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ballorawan740 · 3 years

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SCP Scenarios: When their kids swear at them (REQUESTED)

Requested by: @Astro_KeySimp

WARNING: Swearing (sorta)

Ok so I kinda made the reader into the child since don't remember if you wanted the reader to be a child or not, so if it wasn't to your liking, then I'm sorry, but I can make a separate version on where the reader isn't the child

It kinda became more of the SCPs and doctors being dads than their reaction to their kids swearing

SCP 073 (Cain)

Cain was walking around with you since you were bored and there wasn't anything to do

Being unaware of what some of the staff were saying, ye went over to grab you some food for later in case you got hungry

Once you both went back, he watched you play with some Legos and was talking as if it was your Lego friends talking to you

Cain looked away for just 10 seconds and heard you shout out "Wow! He said that her baby's such a bi-" which shocked him as he heard it

Cain looked around and made sure that nobody was around the room and was somewhat surprised that you was the one saying this

Being a good dad he is, Cain explained to you carefuly that you shouldn't say that word because it's bad

And being a sweet shy child, you obliged and stopped saying the word

Til this day, Cain had no idea about where and who you've heard the word from and is very much more self-aware

SCP 076-2 (Abel)

Abel is that type of dad who would teach you all the bad words and encourages you to say them

It's the researchers who had to teach you top not to say those words

One time, Dr Glass came in to examine you and had rewarded you as usual since you were so cooperative

You drew a picture of you and Abel talking in a garden with bright coloured flowers

Simon asked if he could see your drawing and saw that the conversation you and your dad had was those of swearing

This surprised Simon since you knew so many at such a young age but wasn't totally shocked since he knew that you were Abel's child

And knowing him, he wouldn't teach you to be nice, so Simon took the job as a mother hen and taught you to not use those words around people

SCP 999 (Tickle Monster)

Ok, so I'll keep this SCP short since I, again, don't know what I should write for this adorable, squicky, neon-orange, bubby blob

Another SCP who doesn't cuss

This adorable squishy boi here was about to have a heart attack when he heard you swear fir the first time

He had to ask you worryingly where you heard that phrase and you just said some guy wearing a white jacket

999 sighed knowing that you'll grow and couldn't do anything to stop it

He did, however, mention that you should try and avoid saying those things to anyone and that they'd most likely have a heart attack since you were his child and you won the genetic lottery for being the cutest and outgoing child in the world

The only other person who knew of this was Dr Glass (sucks to be him ngl, he do be a mother to everyone) and he had to help poor 999 with teaching you better words

SCP 682 (Hard to Destroy Reptile)

YAY! Another SCP who would teach their kid to swear

682 has such a dirty mouth like 076 and would 100% teach you all the words he knows

Similarly to what happened with Abel, you were taken for an interview with Dr Sophia Light since she was assigned to you

She's such a sweet and kind doctor to be around and would teach you anything and everything you would probably need to know all the while keeping an eye on you in case you become overly aggressive like 682

You were just eating some sweets Lights had given you for good behaviour and overheard some researchers swear

Remembering what your dad had taught you, you just repeated those curse words while clapping at your achievement

This had shocked Sophia and that researcher since you were known to be a moderately shy and quiet child who normally wouldn't say those things despite being 682's child

Sophia had to ask if you understood the meaning of those words and shook your head as an indicator for no

She had to carefully find her words and told you to never speak of those words again and took you back to 682's cell

You went and hugged your dad and told him that you learnt from the doctor that those curse words were bad and neither of you should say them

682 had a headache after that

SCP 049 (Plague Doctor)

I have a hard time thinking that 049 would teach his child to cuss and would avoid swearing in front of them at all cost

Like, he barely swears anyways but he wants to stay classy and sassy for his innocent child

Just like the other day, his kiddo, you, was curious about the whole surgery thingy he does on the dead bodies, so you asked him to teach you and so he did (like the good father we nevah had)

So you learnt some new, yet difficult, words (cuz we all have a nonexistent pea-sized brain) and somehow, you managed to fit in a curse word

This did surprise 049 as he had remembered that he didn't teach you those foul words

He had to give you a talk about using such words and you teared up since you thought that people used them to express their affection to others

Unsurprisingly, 049 took his sweet time looking for the guy who 'taught' you this and wanted to use him as a case study for your future lessons

SCP 035 (Possessive Mask)

Another parent with such an amazing influence on children

035 would teach and enable you to use swearing as a form of expression

So you were free to say whatever you want as long as they aren't directed to our mask here, especially if it's in a negative way

Otherwise, you'd be punished (No not like that! He'll just ground you from your favourite TV show/movie)

The researchers were surprised, not about you swearing, but how you use them through expression

Except for this poor guy who was new to the foundation and bumped into you by accident

This rookie found himself listening to you cursing like a sailor (maybe not that much but more or less on the same level as Samuel L Jackson)

Word got out and everybody laughed at the poor rookie and told him more about your background and how you love to swear (apparently swearing will prolong your life, so you'll basically be immortal here)

035 was impressed by the whole ordeal and rewarded you with more shows to watch whenever you're both free

SCP 105 (Iris)

Iris would accidentally swear in front of you and whenever she realises it, she would tell you to not swear at people since it wasn't very nice

So she would use words to replace the swearing like "oh fudging hell not now" and "no sugar honey ice tea"

The foundation felt that it was slightly unnecessary but went with it anyways

They'd even go as far as saying that it's ridiculous, but who are they to judge?

Iris was your mother and she's a single mum too, so she felt the need to be overly beating but would occasionally let you decide on your own since you were only 12

The foundation members did tell her that you will eventually grow and more of these words will be used but she just hesitates

As a teen, you did begin to use foul words more often and Iris would argue about how you're using them, especially towards her, your own mother

Needless to say, you both felt bad and made up

SCP 106 (Old Man)

Now this old man right here doesn't exactly speak, or at least very rarely

And if he does, he'll most likely be talking to you or the foundation staff if he needed some help finding you

He'll most likely be able to understand what the researchers are saying, even if they aren't speaking English

My own personal hc is that 106 understands English, German, Spanish, French, Chinese, Arabic and Indonesian and probably many others

Every now and again, somebody would come in and teach you new words and give other lessons like maths and poetry (our favourite)

You came back home to tell him all the things you've learnt as he watched you in awe as he braided your hair

You've even used some new phrases, including swear words while talking and 106 was pretty impressed

I feel that he's quite neutral with swear words since words are words and are used as a form of verbal communication

So I don't think they'll be much change in his behaviour to whether you're swearing or not

SCP 096 (Shy Guy)

Now with 096, all he does is scream

So basically, somebody else would have to teach you some words

It's not to say that 096 is a dumb animalistic creature with no soul and just kills people who look at his face

He isn't stupid since he manages to find anyone who looked at his face from the other side of the globe

And he seems to understand what the researchers are saying, or at least on a more intermediate to moderate level

You'll learn about swear words from the other researchers, whether they'll be teaching it to you intentionally or you've overheard them

The foundation could really care less, but would at least prefer that you chill a bit if you got carried away

096 would act all cheery when you learn more new things as it's not like the foundation would let him out anyway, so he'll be living the outside world life from you (How relatable, but more with babysitting and dating, cuz I'm too pretty for anyone to date XD)

Like with 106, I don't think 096 would have any special reaction towards swearing, but would probably be screaming internally for a bit since he knows that it isn't a nice word

Dr Jack bright

This mf right here is one of those parents who would be kind but firm

Bright would most definitely give in to your curiosity and teach you whatever you want to learn but would warn you of the dangers

Depending on what it is, he would even go as far as giving you your own personal guard who would stay with you and train you

And unfortunately, this guard has such a foul mouth, so you're constantly exposed to such words

Luckily for the both of you, Jack Bright doesn't really care about swearing as long as you're not being extremely inappropriate if you were to work

He would even joke around with you sometimes and would even start the conversation with swearing

For instance, he'd just surprise you with a "Yeet his mf outta my sheithole"

And yes, you did laugh at his antics

Some would even say that you're an exact clone of him but more stable (for now)

Well, Bright is an amazing dad, but I'd say just below Dr Glass

Or maybe even on par with him

Like Bright is a goofy dad that has all the terrible dad jokes and Glass would be the type of dad to look out for his kid

Dr Simon Glass

Dr Glass would most definitely avoid using swear words, especially if you were under 15

Even if you were over 15, he'd still avoid swearing unless he wants to make a joke or 2

So most of the time, you'd learn all the swearing from other people and SCPs

Sometimes you would swear by accident and Glass would just look at you, slightly disappointed

I'd say he doesn't exactly care about you swearing per see, but would rather you avoid it

It's cuz Simon is the best dad a dad could ever dad and nobody could prove me wrong here

He's also one of the top best dads compared to the others on the list

He's basically your best friend so he'd let you vent and its the 1 time he'd let you swear to show your emotions

Simon would 100% know your thoughts and behaviour

He's just that good at reading people, especially you - almost to the point where people would say he's an SCP cuz I swear he's just empathic and telepathic

As mentioned before, Glass would be the type of dad to care for your mental health

It's not that the others don't, it's just that Glass is a top their God of Psychology and would come to you before you even know you have depression

He would even crack a joke sometimes

So every so often, he would shout out "LANGUAGE!!!" from across the room before you could even bat an eye and say anything

Dr Alto Clef

Another top tier dad, but swearing addition

Your godfather would literally be Jack Bright

Then it's Kondraki and Glass

He would let you swear on a daily basis and would join you

Sometimes you be looking at your Oppas/Noonas and be like: "Oh fxxk me!" and Clef, who's in the next room, be like: "Yeah, fxxk me too!" (Yes but no sis! No incest pls!)

Other times, you would be in the same room as Clef and Bright and you'd join them in being chaotic

And poor Kondraki is just there at the back trying to do his work peacefully

One time, Kondraki had to grab a Simon Glass to help stop the chaotic trio

And OML did it end so well

You were easy to manage tbh, with the exception of you swearing

Clef and Bright would most definitely encourage you to swear more

Especially Clef since he does have a twisted sense of humour

Dr Benjamin Kondraki

Kondraki is totally the type of person who would tell their kid to mind their own language

But he secretly doesn't care and his child knows it

His style of parenting is similar to Simon's

And yes, Simon is your #1 godfather/uncle

You'd go to him for emotional support since Kondraki sucks at that

Sometimes you'd swear at him and he'd get mad though

So yeah, running to Glass is a wonderful idea

And we all know that Kondraki doesn't mean what he said

He's just extremely introverted, but he's rather sensible - Usually...

Anyways, he would ask Simon on tips and advice on how to get you to stop swearing so much and he just gave Benjamin a parenting book (Like fr guys, let Glass have some rest, he's tired of babysitting over 100 dozens of pets in the zoo and all the other babies who work in it)

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

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Something Wicked

part 10

masterlist

Jin had become a little less volatile in the following days, but he had become almost unbearably smothering when he wasn’t disappearing into his office to take mysterious phone calls. He always seemed to be touching her, kissing her. The man was practically glowing with excitement, and his excitement never boded well for her. She tried at least to enjoy the relative peace while it lasted. He hadn’t tried to initiate anything either. It was a relief for her. There was a lot she could put up with, mostly because she had to, but that was not something she wanted to give to Jin.

She had never like Kim Seokjin. He was not a good man, even before this, but now, she firmly believed that he was the devil. What else could he be? He was the subject of nightmares, the creature that mothers warn their children about. He was the monster her parents had warned her about. She should have gotten away when she’d had the chance. She should have quit all those years ago when she first realized how horrible he was to work with. None of this ever would have happened if she’d taken the job in the first place.

Her father had always taught her to try to find the good in any situation, but she couldn’t find any here. There was no good to be found in Kim Seokjin. In a way she was glad that her father was dead. She would have hated for him to see how far she had fallen. He’d always wanted a good life for her. Maybe if Jin wasn’t psychotic, and they had met in a different life one where Jin had wooed her like a normal man, he could have provided that for her. There was no chance of that now though. Jin had taken everything from her. He’d taken her freedom, her dignity. She had a sneaking suspicion that he had been behind Minseok’s demise. And now, he was going to permanently tie them together.

Jin had presented her with a ring as gaudy as he was, happily slipping it onto her finger gripping her hand a little too tightly for the gesture to be sweet. The large diamond was prominently sat in the middle of a platinum band with two smaller baguette diamonds on either side of the central emerald cut stone. It was a hard piece of jewelry to ignore. Every time she moved it caught the light drawing her eye down to the horrid thing. Jin was so proud of it. He declared it worthy of the future Mrs. Kim, but she detested it. Every time she looked at it, it made her stomach turn. She wanted to chuck it over the balcony and down to the busy streets below, but she refrained too frightened of what Jin would do to her if she did so.

He’d brought in a team of ladies to primp and poke her into the image of Kim Seokjin’s wife, as well as a team to groom poor Jinnie, but not before thoroughly threatening her. Jin couldn’t risk her asking for help. He couldn’t risk his image as Seoul’s golden boy. He was perfect, and his future wife had to be too.

Every time she thought of his dead eyed smile as he’d spoken to her, as he’d threated to kill Jinnie, to hurt her, a shudder went down her spine. It had been a struggle for her to keep quiet when the ladies had been there fixing her hair and doing her nails. Even if she had wanted to speak up, Jin was always there leisurely seated a few feet away giving instructions to the ladies. He wanted her to be perfect, his version of perfect. Her hair was styled to his specifications. Her nails were shaped and painted in a demure neutral color, because the wife of Kim Seokjin was to be a perfectly demure lady, and she hated it. She had never been a very vibrant woman. She’d always been a little softer, a little more neutral, but something about that fact that it was now being dictated to her made her hate it.

She was filled with the urge to take a pair of kitchen scissors and cut off all of her hair. She wanted to paint her nails a violent shade of pink just to spite him, but how could she? He was always there, always hovering over her shoulder. He was so thrilled with the idea of their wedding, and she had never dreaded anything more.

He was almost manic in his excitement. He was constantly bringing her wedding magazines forcing her to choose between preapproved flowers, colors, food. There was nothing that wasn’t already Jin’s choice, not that she really wanted to be involved in wedding planning. She knew what would happen once the wedding took place. She’d be legally tied to Jin in the eyes of the law and the eyes of the public. There would be no escape for her, not that there was much chance now.

She’d learned a lot about Jin during her captivity. She’d always known him to be meticulous, a perfectionist, but there was something about seeing him in all his psychotic glory that stripped her of all hope. He was almost obsessive, no, he was obsessive. Every detail of her captivity was planned just as every detail of their wedding was planned. There was nothing she could do to fight against him, not when he held all the cards.

“Hello, my darling.” Jin greeted her placing a kiss to her forehead. She was getting better at accepting his displays of affection, or she was had been well trained. Any rejection of Jin was met with violence so she kept herself calm. She kept herself gentle and passive just as Jin wanted her.

“How has your day been?” He asked sinking down to sit next to her.

“It’s been fine.” She smiled setting her book aside. She wasn’t allowed to do other things when Jin wanted her attention. Her focus was always to be on him. He was a narcissist at heart. Everything had to be about Jin. “Do you have anything you want me to look over?” She asked. Jin wanted her active and excited in the wedding planning, so she pasted on a smile and pretended as best she could if only to keep him calm.

“No, darling.” He cooed smiling gently as he played with her hair. “Not right now, we have almost everything decided. It won’t be long now.”

A thought she dreaded. Marriage to Jin was the last thing she wanted, but it wasn’t as though he was giving her a choice.

“What’s that?” She asked looking at the file resting on his other side. If he’d brought it instead of taking it directly to the office, it had to have something to do with her.

He smiled picking up the file and opening it up. “This? This is your medical file, darling.”

She froze dread filling her. What could he possibly want with her medical records? How had he even gotten them? She wasn’t sure who to be more upset with, Jin or her doctor, but the likelihood of her ever seeing the doctor of her choice again was slim. It would probably be Jin’s choice from now on. He was an overbearing bastard.

“We’ll have to get your IUD removed.” He mused flipping through the pages. “We’ll be needing an heir, and that pesky little thing will get in the way.” He looked back at her gently brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “But we can take care of that after the wedding. I want to enjoy you before we have a son.” He leaned in nipping at her ear.

“A baby?” She whimpered doing her best not to flinch away from him.

“Of course, darling.” He chuckled trailing light kisses down her neck. “Mother and father are anxious for grandchildren as well. Seokjung won’t be much help to them in that regard.”

She stiffened even more at the mention of his brother. It was rare for Jin to bring him up. Not many people even knew the fate of the older Kim brother, but she had been working with Seokjin for years. She’d even met the man a few times, quite the feat considering how the family kept him away from the eyes of the public. The poor man wasn’t even mentioned with the rest of the family, not since the accident.

Kim Seokjung was set to inherit the company until there was a skiing accident when the brothers were in high school. Seokjung had ended up paralyzed from the waist down and had become effectively useless in the eyes of his upper crust family. He received the best of care, but his life was essentially over. Seokjin had risen as the only son and heir of the Kim family.

Of the two, Seokjung was definitely her favorite. He was a pleasant man, far more pleasant than the rest of his family and surprisingly optimistic considering the life he’s been thrust into. Assistants had no place in private family matters, but Jin had insisted on bringing her to the family home on more than one occasion, and that was where she had met Seokjung.

She first encountered him in the kitchen in the family home. To say that both of them had been surprised would have been an understatement. She had only been working for Seokjin for a year, and she had never heard mention of a brother, but they’d quickly settled into conversation seated at the little breakfast nook in the vast kitchen with a cup of tea that Seokjung had made for them himself. There wasn’t much for him to keep himself occupied now that he was effectively under house arrest by his own family, but he was excellent at making tea. He was also an amateur chef. She loved talking to him. The few times she had met him were the highlight of her time working with Jin.

One thing that never made sense to her was the accident. Both Seokjin and Seokjung were very athletic back in the day. Seokjin was still athletic. One of the things that the Kim family excelled at was winter sports. Seokjin preferred to snow board, but from what she had heard, Seokjung was quite the accomplished skier. They’d been to that resort hundreds of times. He’d skied those hills all his life. The conditions hadn’t even been bad on that fateful day, but something had gone wrong, so wrong that Seokjung no longer had the use of his legs. Now knowing Jin more, she now had to wonder if he had had something to do with the accident. She wouldn’t put it past him, not now.

“Wouldn’t that be nice, darling?” Jin cooed bringing her back to the present as he nuzzled into her neck. “A little son.”

“I don’t… I’m not…” He breath hitched as Jin nipped at her neck more harshly.

“You’re not what, darling?”

“I’m not ready for children.” She whispered trembling as she waited for Jin’s reaction.

Jin pulled away staring her down before a grin stretched across his features. “Not to worry, darling. We can wait a little before we start our family. I want to enjoy you first.” He purred nipping her neck again.

“No, Jin.” She whispered pushing him away gently. “I don’t want children.”

She had always been on the fence about kids. It was the biggest fight that she and Minseok had ever had. He’d wanted a houseful of them. She wasn’t even sure she wanted them. She’d never had siblings, and she’d cared for two ailing parents in her life. Kids had never really crossed her mind, but she knew she definitely didn’t want them with Jin. She doubted she had much choice on that either, but she had to try.

Jin frowned before pasting on an indulgent smile. “Two I think. Two boys. Doesn’t that sound nice, darling?”

“I don’t…”

Jin cut her off his smile becoming more strained, his eyes darkening. “You don’t know what you want, darling. That’s why you have me.” He pet her hair his tone taking on a condescending air.

“Jin…”

“My poor stupid darling.” He cooed pulling her up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “How did you ever survive without me?” She grit her teeth restraining herself from snipping at him. She’d gain nothing from upsetting him even more than she already had. “Don’t worry, darling. By this time next week, we’ll be married, and you’ll never have to worry again. Daddy will take care of you.”

Yes, that was exactly what she was afraid of.

part 11

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts jin #yandere seokjin #ceo seokjin #bts seokjin #seokjin x reader #jin #jin x reader #yandere jin #ceo jin #ceo #ceo au #dark romance #something wicked #fanfic #bts fanfic

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geekys-corner · 3 years

Note

Mind listing the OCs/personas and a couple facts about them? (Might help with questions lol)

Sure! I’ve written 16 below lmao *sticks in a read more*

Anthony - Originally my version of Anti, he’s now a sweet bean who really likes plants. In his backstory and the start of his story, he was found in a tiny pocket dimension inside his old apartment while he and the place around him fell into disrepair with the only thing truly alive being his plants. After losing his entire family, he was very fragile and hurt himself quite a bit, but my other characters rescued him and nursed him back to health and stability!

Onyx - My angsty punk dude who I adore. He is on the autistic spectrum and is mostly non-verbal, once going 4 months without speaking before breaking the silence to tell his best friend that Viggo Mortenson broke his toe in that one scene in Lord of the Rings. They have a twin sister who is 13 minutes older and a firm witch while he is a firm nonbeliever. Sometimes he goes to the junkyard with a baseball bat to let out their anger.

Leon - His backstory is very dark so I won’t get into it, but he’s a very shy bean with one arm and a love for sewing. He has the fluffiest light pink hair, and is just the embodiment of pastel.

Kyle - The older brother of the duo! He’s friends with Onyx and also has a punk look with spiked blue hair, but he’s an absolute sweetheart! He’s eight years older than his brother, and ran away with him when he was a newborn to escape their abusive mother. He raised Joey on his own in the streets, escaping care systems that would split them apart and shove them in to foster homes, and grew up to be completely independent, albeit unaware of what it is like to have a loving family besides his brother. He may be quick to resort to fight or flight to protect his brother and grumpy to strangers, but he’s built them a good life!

Joseph - The little brother! Joey is a smart little kid, (ranging from 10 - 14 depending) with very bright ginger hair and freckles. He’s on the far side of the autistic spectrum and is completely nonverbal, but he’s very expressive, spunky, and loving whenever he’s able to. He adores peanut butter and milkshakes, and would very happily have them six times a day. While he can’t speak, he will send Kyle countless facts from astronomy or marine life through text at any time of day or night. He’s always seen in his blue skateboarding frog hoodie, a beetle backpack filled with his supplies, and his headphones and tablet. He loves to draw and he’s great at it, and always draws sharks, especially whale sharks.

Caelan - Another punk, but this time in bird form. He is a griffin, and in some AUs a dude with prosthetic feet. He has messy blond hair covering his eyes and is based around an Egyptian falcon. He’s very quick witted and very annoying to people who don’t know him, but would go to hell and back for his family.

Marioma - The model of a modern major general- this dude is the only one like him, meaning he has no AU counterparts! He’s different from my other characters since he’s technically self-aware, and acts in my stories if and when I want him to! He’s a grumpy, determined dude who’s trying to quit smoking per request of his boyfriend, Arthur. Before him, he was a sly, hardened, and cunning man who needed someone to rely on who wouldn’t die on him.

Arthur - Foster fails: 5. He owns a bookstore in the universe he inhabits and, just like Mari, he’s one of a kind! He lives the ideal rainy city aesthetic, with an apartment above his store with open windows, plants, cosy blankets and homemade food, handmade clothing, and animals. He’s got curly hair and his scarf is his comfort item, and he takes in animals if and when he can. He and Mari just live a comfortable life :’)

Clyde - A duo with Anthony, he was originally a version of Henrik, but is now completely different. This boy is a classic OC and therefore my teenage angst punching bag. He’s a doctor in his husband Lucas’ mafia, and is very strong-willed and the biggest sweetheart. He has water powers that I always forget about, and could very easily drown someone if he wanted to. Besides that, he does cry a lot over small things, and Lucas has walked in on him crying over their cat in a business-tie.

Levi - If he and Clyde fused, they’d make Henrik. He’s my 55 year old doctor who just the embodiment of grumpy cat and expresso. He’s very lanky and has joint problems after trauma in his late 20s, and sometimes you can hear his bones cracking as he walks. He has, can, and will slap the sense into Clyde when he needs to and hated him to begin with, but warmed up to him. But, he’s completely different to his husband Sage, and in the end, is a very caring guy who won’t take any shit. He’s also therapist, and gives sessions to most of my OCs- (he’s also the doctor at the end of Don’t Leave! Dr Allison!)

Tyrell (Cloak) - So I split the same OC into two halves, essentially from two AUs but in one? They’re not twins, they’re the same guy with separate families but they’re the same. They’re both POC with the same face, hair texture etc. Cloak-Ty is very grumpy, and is called Cloak because of the cloak he wears in his fantasy-based AUs! He wears an eye patch and lost his eye depending on the AU, and went through a lot. You can tell he’s angsty because half of his hair is buzzed off. He tried to push away his now-husband Demitri, but luckily he’s an absolute himbo who doesn’t know when to quit, and eventually melted through the icy layer to a loving, sarcastic, hard-working man.

Tyrell (Ponytail) - Same as above description wise! He’s taller and buff with a ponytail. He went through the same backstory, but was found by Daniel who took him to Lucas’ mafia where they recovered together and eventually fell in love. Half of his face is badly burned and the eye has pin-hole vision, but it doesn’t stop him from being the best sniper on the team. When at home, he loves tea, hanging with his family, and painting. He’s amazing at watercolour and earns money on the side from selling his work! Sometimes he and Dan team up and draw together!

Bloodbranded:

Wayde - He lives in the Winter Forest Region and hunts for his family with his exceptional archery skills. He’s witty and pretty spontaneous, making him good under pressure, but incredibly reckless. He has a bad claw scar across his right eye which cuts into his hair, but he can see just fine! He has beautiful green eyes with central heterochromia, so they turn brown in the centre. While he may be annoying and hot-headed, he cares a whole bunch and grows as a person to fall in love with Milo. He’s a hopeless romantic and protective as all hell, even when Milo can handle himself just fine.

Felicity - She wasn’t born in the WFR like Wayde, she was adopted by her two mothers and is Wayde’s cousin! She’s a POC with beautiful dark skin, and her parents style her hair in unique braids that are decorated by gold rings. She’s a magic user and a very skilled one at that, even when she’d just started out, and wishes to revive the old form of magic that had been taken over by the modern, corrupted magic form that’s based entirely on nepotism. She uses a staff and a book, and is clumsy to start out, but soon becomes a mage to be admired, or feared if you’re an enemy!

Milo - Unlike Felicity and Wayde, he was born in the desert region, and ends up in the WFR by mistake (which is a vast change in temperature for him). Because of the contrast in temperature, he’s always wrapped up in winter clothes, even in places where the others are sleeveless, just because he’s spent his whole life in the heat! When he’s at home, he lives with his Mother and goes out to collect lightning glass after the nightly storms to sell and turn into jewellery or windows etc. Milo was born deaf and uses sign language to communicate. He’s smart, energetic, and excited to see new things, but can handle himself with ease, and knows how to take care of himself through quick thinking and fighting skills from living in the desert. When he and Wayde start dating, he likes coming up behind him and cuddling him or giving him quick kisses!

Prism - Much like their name, they are very colourful. They are a dragon hybrid and live in a kingdom of others like them, but unlike any other dragon, their scales are - like their name - prisms. They gradient between rainbows across their body, but each scale has a rainbow shimmer when they move. Their wings are like stained glass, and their hair (as of now, it might change) is like labradorite! Prism is mute and doesn’t express much, usually communicating through eye rolls. They live as the King’s new heir after he took them in as he believes Prism is the symbol of their kingdom and species’ beauty. Because of this, they are completely untouched by any blade and don’t have a single blemish or scar as to preserve them. Many guards have died to prevent them from obtaining even the slightest scratch. Beyond their anxiety, they join the crew and act as the voice/sign of reason! Even if they are assigned to their kingdom, they soon learn that their friends truly care about them more than their appearance.

That’s most of my OCs, this is already super long so I don’t want to drag it on! If anyone is interested in any OC, feel free to drop an ask, I’d love to write one shots or answer questions! <3 ^^

#geekyfox1's ocs #oc #oc list #bloodbranded #bloodbranded development #oc description

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earnmysong · 3 years

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won’t you pick the pieces up (don’t let me keep on walking on broken glass) [for my dearest @pasmonblog! an entirely overboard fulfillment of winterwitch; kiss by a campfire; *vague references to wandavision, the first episode of falcon and the winter soldier, and schitt’s creek*]

Part II of my Wanda-centric series i’ll have a cup of tea (and tell you of my dreaming)

and what if i could live like this - but not forever and what if you could move the needle to a more forgiving song and what if this was never really broken all along but - for tonight - i'm sleeping with my television on

television | jack's mannequin

...

There's a story here, there’s always a story. This story starts with the good doctor’s helpful suggestion that a machine that cycles through soothing sounds might help with the nightmares. You know, the ones Bucky doesn’t have? Actually, she recommends an app he can download, but his phone needs to age a couple decades to be able to support the damn thing.

He's standing at the check-out of Atlantic Avenue’s Best Buy with three different types, already planning to chuck every single one in the garbage. A tropical rainforest is going to work miracles that the city’s constantly blaring siren soundtrack can’t?

A hand reaches from behind to tap one of his boxes, as a pleasant lilt he can almost place warns: ‘If you leave this running all night, it dies after a week.’

‘Thanks. You use either of these?’ He turns, holding the two that are still contenders out to his informant. And grinning like an idiot because he recognizes her. Her hair and her affect are both less fiery than they’d been when he’d met her in Wakanda - her messy bun’s edging toward brown and her eyes have painful memories crammed behind them. But her expression’s warm, slightly guilty, when she shakes her head.

‘I have this’ - Wanda touches number two - ‘but it’s still in the box.’ He wants to ask if she’s okay, if there’s an ass that needs kicking – not that he’s supposed to engage in that extracurricular anymore, and she sure as shit can take care of herself; he’s caught the news coverage, though – but she keeps going. ‘My therapist tells me this only hinders my recovery, but - ’ She shrugs, passes him a plastic case with what looks like a family and a misspelled curse on its front ‘- I love it. It’s comforting.’

‘Has to work better than whatever crap I was about to buy.’

‘I think so. You're welcome to judge for yourself. I’m happy to start at the beginning again.’

They trade numbers on the sidewalk out front, he brings lattes to her apartment two nights later, and David drives out of town in Roland’s truck as the sun rises.

…

Wanda's totally right, the doc lectures him about media immersion simply blocking his negative thoughts rather than eliminating them. He smiles serenely at her, says ‘But I have two whole friends now! Aren’t you excited?’ and leaves Wanda a voicemail on his walk home: ‘Whenever we do season two, food’s on me. Mental health should not, actually, be entertainment-dependent and Raynor’s not any happier about our combined coping skills than your guy.’

He knows she’s got class at Fordham until seven-thirty, but she’ll call when she gets out.

…

They finish the series right as the semester’s ending.

He hen-pecks his way through Wanda’s dictation of the final paragraph of her unit plan for her Educational Methods class.

[She'd started crying so hard at David’s ‘I am continuously impressed by you’ compliment to Alexis that there was no way in hell she could see her screen and he’d been afraid her laptop might end up with water damage, erasing all of her efforts in a flash.]

Once she’s hiccupped one last citation at him and he’s saved her paper in four different places, he glances over at her. ‘The doc’s still bugging me about finding more sustainable sleep aids. She fails to understand the medicinal properties of the Rose family. And I basically filibustered her ass on the subject last week. Nothing.’ Wanda laughs through her tears. ‘Anyway. I'm thinking of trying out the up close and personal version of ambient noise. You want to come camping this weekend?’

Wanda’s nose scrunches in disgust and her head slides from side to side, answering for her on its own. But what she offers next is a surprise: ‘I'm only coming because you can’t afford to lose any other limbs, and I can’t say that won’t happen if you’re alone.’

‘We’ll start another show as soon as we get back,’ he promises.

…

Camping blows.

Which, judging by Wanda’s expression underneath her soggy hood, is a secret that she really wants to let him in on. Like he isn’t already fully aware.

The fire’s somehow soldiering on despite the downpour, but they’ve got maybe five minutes before it gutters. ‘Should we admit defeat? Stay city couch commandos forever?’

Wanda’s entire being lights up at his suggestion, and she’d probably take flight right now if he wasn’t around. ‘Thank you’ she says instead, leaning over to frame his face between her wet palms and pressing her mouth to his.

‘Molniya, if you were dying to go home that badly, all you had to do was say so. I can take a hint,” he tells her after they’ve spent several minutes otherwise occupied.

‘That, sir - ’ she smirks ‘ - was for everything but this brilliant disaster of yours.’

And she might levitate a little on the way to the car.

Also on AO3: HERE!

#myfic #MCU #mcu fic #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #wanda x bucky #otp: my waves meet your shore #winterwitch #winterwitch fic #headcanon #affinities - i have them!#faces colliding!#winterwitch moodboard #moodboard #my edit #for #pasmonblog #NATurally fantastic

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queercapwriting · 3 years

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“I Will Never Forgive You” (Fitz x Daisy, ft. Jemma, post 5x14 + 5x22)

It took a few months for either of them to start sleeping again. After Fitz died.

And anyway, space was big. All of these proverbial waters were uncharted, and Jemma wanted to make sure she could tell Fitz all the details of all the new things she’d learned once she found him.

Because they would find him.

He’d found her - the last time she was in space. He’d found her across the galaxy. Surely, it would be easy enough to find him across time.

They all but lived in the command center, for a few months. If they retreated to their bunks, it was to physically collapse for an hour or two. Never really more than that.

Jemma woke up screaming for Fitz.

Daisy woke up just screaming from Fitz.

The first time Jemma heard Daisy’s nightmare, she was standing over Davis’s shoulder, looking out at the vastness of it all. She hadn’t had this kind of luxury last time she was in space.

And Fitz had found her, even though she was all but dead.

She’d find him, now, even though he is all but dead.

Sort of.

She was fiddling with his ring - Daisy had thought she’d want to have it, and Jemma spent so many nights wondering if it had been Daisy herself, or Mack, or May, or some medic whose name she would never know, who’d taken it off of her dead husband’s finger.

She was fiddling with his ring, and staring out at the infinity she was crossing for him, when she startled from the pitch of Daisy’s scream.

Piper and Jemma both whipped out their sidearms - she only vaguely remembered when she was some kid with no tactical training on the bus - and Davis flipped the ship into emergency mode.

But it was Jemma who started sprinting first.

She ripped the door open to Daisy’s bunk, ready to destroy anything and anyone that had somehow gotten in and threatened her, hurt her, but Daisy...

Daisy was just asleep. Having a nightmare.

And it was only then that Jemma heard her words.

“What are you doing? Fitz, I am begging you. No no no no no. Fitz, please. Fitz, no no no no no.”

The scream that followed, that had called her into the room to begin with, was agony more emotional than physical - though Jemma could not even begin to imagine the physical (and she could imagine quite a lot. Ward was... creative, in his torture tactics).

Piper’s eyes went wide, like she had seen and heard something indecent. Because really, she had.

“Ma’am,” she whispered, like a salute, like an apology, and scurried off to tell Davis to stand down emergency mode.

Jemma was alone with Daisy, and Daisy’s screams.

Her gun clattered to the ground and her hands were on Daisy before she could even think of what to do, what to say, or think, or feel.

She went for her wrists, first. Because Daisy was bound, in her nightmare. Jemma knew, because she’d been present, for her nightmare. So she brought her hands to Daisy’s wrists, caressed them once, twice, firm, like she was wiping away her bindings. Then her ankles, quick, efficient.

She didn’t realize she was cooing Daisy’s name until she brought her hands to Daisy’s stomach, her torso, her cheeks.

“Daisy. Daisy, wake up, you’re safe. I’m here, you’re safe.”

Daisy woke with a jolt, sitting bolt upright and immediately checking to see that she was unbound, immediately bringing her hand up to the scar behind her ear - the one she’d refused to do anything to minimize.

“Fitz,” she whispered, staring around her bunk until her gaze fell to Jemma.

“You’re safe, Daisy. He’s gone. You’re safe.”

She didn’t know if she was talking about the Doctor, or Fitz being dead but not dead but the version of him that did that to Daisy was dead... She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to know.

But she did know that her voice didn’t quake when she said it. Everything had to be steady right now. For Daisy.

Daisy stared for a long moment at her. It took everything in her to not look away.

Jemma didn’t understand, if she was honest with herself, why Daisy was still by her side. Why Daisy didn’t hate her because she’d had the audacity to defend him. Because she’d brought him tea and because she’d stayed married to him. Because she still loved him.

She didn’t understand what Daisy was doing in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of outer space, with no backup, no resources, no allies, and practically no hope.

The least she could do was have the courage to look Daisy in the eyes. It was hard. It felt almost impossible. But it was the least she could do.

“We’re going to find him, Jemma,” Daisy eventually said. Her voice was still ragged, from the yelling. The screaming that she let herself do in her dream, that she hadn’t given the Doctor - Fitz - the Doctor... Fitz. - the satisfaction of hearing in real life. In his past life. Daisy’s always life.

Jemma blinked. She’d said he was gone to comfort Daisy, not to...

“You don’t have to comfort me, Daisy. Not... not right now.”

Daisy squeezed her eyes shut, the way she often did when she needed to shut out her laptop after spending hours hunched over, working herself past exhaustion some problem or another.

No, now wasn’t the time to think about how very similar Daisy was to her husband.

“You really don’t know why I’m here, do you?” Daisy asked. Her voice was still ripped, and if it wasn’t for the reason why, it might have lit Jemma’s body up. The way Daisy’s voice would get extra low sometimes, maybe, perhaps, especially when she was talking to women, to Jemma... No, no, no, no, no, absolutely not.

Fitz would understand - Fitz had understood, they’d talked about it, about her, he had... but he was gone, now. No use in fantasizing in all that. He was gone, now, and finding him was complicated enough without... without all of that.

“Aside from Fitz, you’re my best friend, Daisy. And I’m grateful that you’re here with me, every day. I -”

“But you don’t understand why.” Daisy was waking up, now, regaining some of her amused cockiness, her devil-may-care, her swagger. Exaggerated ever so slightly, deeply adorably, by still being somewhat asleep.

Jemma looked away.

“He hurt you, Daisy. He... he tortured you. He tortured you, he violated you, and he never even apologized, and -”

“He didn’t have to, Jemma.”

“Daisy.”

“No.” Daisy’s face, her voice, was serious now, sincere and genuine and intense. Like she was when she promised Jemma she would beat them, all of them, the LMDs, the entire world, everything. To get Jemma back to Fitz. Just like she was doing now.

Except back then, before the Framework, Fitz hadn’t...

Oh, Fitz.

“No,” Daisy said again. “He seriously screwed up, yes. It was unforgiveable, yes. It was. I meant it when I said that I will never forgive him.”

Jemma searched for the anger in Daisy’s words, her face. She couldn’t find any. Daisy took Jemma’s hands into her own. Jemma gulped.

“But I don’t need to forgive him to love him. I have done my share of unforgiveable things -”

“You’ve never done anything like what he did to you, Daisy -”

“I did. Yes, I did. I could have quaked him against the wall and walked away. I didn’t. I strangled him, Jemma. I strangled him.”

“You didn’t know what you were -”

“Yes. Yes, I did know what I was doing. I wanted to do it. Just like Fitz. I almost killed Mack, Jemma. He was out of commission, he couldn’t have fought back. I kept beating him, Jemma, over and over and over again. I was not out of my mind. Mack is my brother and I almost beat him to death. I was not out of my mind. I know you don’t believe me. But you know who does? You know who’s the only person who really understands that I did those terrible things because they were inside me?”

“Daisy -”

“Fitz. Fitz is the only person who understands. It. Was. Me. I did those things. And I didn’t have to, Jemma, I wasn’t saving the world. Fitz tortured me, he terrified me, he violated me. Yeah. And I can’t forgive him. But he did it to save the world. I tortured Mack with my own hands, and for what? For what? To prove a point? Mack couldn’t have stopped me. Fitz couldn’t have stopped me. I felt your husband’s windpipe closing and I felt Mack’s bones breaking and I didn’t. Stop. Fitz did a horrible thing, but he was trying to save the world. That doesn’t excuse him, but he is the only one who understands that I can love him and not forgive him. And I do. Love him. And I love you. And I will never abandon either of you. Do you understand me?”

“Daisy -”

“Do you understand me, Jemma?”

She squeezed Jemma’s hands tighter. Jemma squeezed back.

“Yes, Daisy. I understand.”

“Good.”

Daisy nodded like that settled it. She looked around her bunk, brow slightly furrowed.

“Do you think Piper and Davis would want pancakes?”

“I think pancakes would be good, yes.”

“Pancakes in deep space, huh? We’re going to have some stories to tell Fitz.”

“Yes,” Jemma said, watching Daisy spill out of bed, trying not to stare as she tugged on a pair of black pants she’d apparently just taken off and left on the floor. “Yes, we will.”

#fitzskimmons #fitzdaisy #bioquake #aos 5x14 #agents of shield #i am in so much pain #why did i do this to myself

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dreamingabouttaron · 3 years

Text

History Repeating - Part 3

Trigger Warning - Mentions of Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy and Vomit.

It took a couple of weeks for the tension in the Egerton household to cool down. Little sparks to arguments would abrupt out of nowhere due to the added stress that had been piled onto the family. Everyone tried to pretend everything was normal. You tried the hardest. Distracting yourself with school, homework, spending time with friends— you really tried. You had too. Even half-assing your attempt at normalcy would be enough to stop your emotions from crushing you. You felt like you were on a constant battle with your anxiety, which wasn’t helping your nausea.

You slowly walked down the stairs to find Taron sprawled out on the sofa. He was absentmindedly staring at the background on his phone, which you knew was an old throwback photo of the three of you, it was one he hadn’t changed for years. The picture always made him smile. As you stood silently watching, you felt your stomach lurch and bile rise up into your throat. Holding a hand firmly to your mouth, you stumbled your way back up the stairs, and hurry to the nearest toilet. Even though the distance between the stairs and the bathroom wasn’t very long, you barely made it to the toilet before you start vomiting. And it was probably the most intense vomiting session you’d ever had.

It only took a few minutes before you felt your dads calming presence by your side. He quickly grabbed your hair and hushed gentle words of support in your ear. Just like he had every single time you got sick. Just like he had with Lily. He ran his hand smoothly across your back making you instantly feel better. Once you finally finished, and were no longer dry heaving, you leant back on your knees. You try to catch your breath, brushing some tiny strands of hair from your sweaty face.

“Better?” Taron asked as you finally opened your eyes. You slowly nod your hair, not wanting to make any rapid movements incase they brought on another round of vomiting. Your dad had been there every step of the way, just like he had promised you. “Here, drink this.” He said as he pressed a cold glass to your lips. You took small sips of the water, washing the taste from your mouth. “Let me go and make you a green tea, you can sip on it in the car on the way to your appointment.”

You were thankful he was going to be there with you at your first appointment that afternoon. You didn’t think you could manage it on your own. While you were excited to go, you also felt nervous. What if something goes wrong? You can’t help but wonder — worry — that something will go horribly wrong and you’re not ready to deal with that. Certainly not on your own.

When you arrived for your appointment, you went over and signed in before relaxing into the waiting room with your dad. You looked around at all the other expectant parents. You could feel Taron stiffen as he looked around too. He was nervous for you. He wasn’t ready to become a grandparent in his late 30’s. Hell he thought his wife was pregnant not his daughter. But if he hadn’t got Lily pregnant so early, he wouldn’t be in this situation. Yet, he wouldn’t change it for the world. You were his world.

Fifteen minutes later your name was called and you both followed a tall thin lady into a room. You sat on the edge of the bed as you swung your feet back and forth looking at all the posters on the walls that talked about pregnancy, cervical dilation, and menstrual cycles. A few moments later; gentle knock on the door makes you flinch, your eyes snapping to the door as you watched it open. An older woman, with grey dark hair and a kind face, comes in and looks at you and Taron.

“Hi,” she says. “Grace?” You nod, she gives a warm smile, closes the door and sits across from you. “Hello, I’m Mary, I will be your ultrasound technician today. And this is…” She slowed her speech down as she looked to Taron with thin eyes.

“Hello, I’m her dad. I’m here for moral support.” He said as he replied with a short sharp smile.

“Wonderful.” She replied before turning back to you. She explained everything that was going to happen. It had been worked out that you were about 9-10 weeks pregnant. You sat and listened, trying to take in everything that she was saying. She instructs you to lie back against the bed. You lift your shirt up and flinch from the cold gel as it makes contact with your skin. You gulp with anxiety. Your eyes dart across the white clinical ceiling. Taron got up from his chair and went to the side of the bed, grabbing hold of his daughters hand before raising to place a gentle kiss on the back of it.

You both sat in silence watching every move the technician made on your flat stomach. It took you a moment to realise that you were holding your breath. You closed your eyes and tried to relax into the moment the best you could. You kept them closed until you heard your dad release a little audible gasp. You opened your eyes and looked at the tiny form on the screen.

“That’s it right?” You questioned with a slight shake in your voice.

“Yep, that’s your baby.” She replied with a smile on her face. As you stared at the screen, it filled you with such joy, you couldn’t even begin to put it into words.

“Can we hear the heartbeat?” Taron asked, as he squeezed your hand.

“Sure. Let me just…” Mary pushed a button and within seconds the sounds of the baby’s heart beating echo around the room. “That sounds like a very strong heartbeat to me.”

“Wow.” Was all you could say. You felt tears forming in your eyes. You had made that. That was your baby. Yours.

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Taron asked whilst rubbing the top of your hand. “I remember when I heard your heartbeat for the first time.”

“Tan, are you okay?” Lily whispered turning to Taron who was loudly tapping his foot on the squeaky floor.

“Oh, um, yeah, everything's fine. All good. Are you okay?”

The second those words escaped his lips, he couldn't help but feel guilty. He wasn’t even sure why. It's not like he was lying. But he was feeling nervous. Really nervous. But that was normal right? Because according to the books he'd been reading, first time parents - or any parents actually - felt nervous for this. To be fair, it was more like a 'good' nervous; where he's happy and eager, but still getting butterflies in his stomach.

But the bottom line was that he's happy and excited. And why wouldn't he be? It's the first time he was going to see his baby, and he has been looking forward to this day ever since learning about Lily’s pregnancy. It's still weird to him - they're having a baby. A baby! A tiny little version of them.

Thats when it hit them - the sound they've been waiting to hear. Taron and Lily both had that classic excited-but-nervous expression on their faces. There's one moment when they try to laugh, but then they immediately go back to being serious. They just listen to the pattern - dum-dum-dum-dum-dum…

“I-Is that…?” Taron started. His face must have been a picture.

“That’s your baby's heartbeat,” the doctor answered with a smile, already anticipating the question. “And that, right there, is your baby.”

They both turned their attention to the monitor in front of them, the doctor pointing at a particular spot. To put it simply, there's a little blob that seems to be moving infrequently and producing the sound that is reverberating off the walls in the room. But that blob and that sound was Lily and Taron's world. That was the product of their love for each other. The start of their life together.

“That's the baby?” Lily says gently. It wasn't intended as a question, but that's way it came out because she can't believe it either. There's a baby!

“That's right. And so far everything looks good and healthy... I'll give you two some time alone.” They silently thanked the doctor as she left them alone, with the image of their baby still on the screen. The parents still in awe. They didn’t blink once. Not wanting the image to suddenly disappear. They'd read books on pregnancy, and they'd watched shows with a pregnancy plot line, and they'd been told by their own mothers how it feels. But none of those were able to compete with this feeling that they had. The warmth, the love. Lily was barely able to hold it all together, letting the happy tears stream down her cheeks the moment the couple are alone. “That’s our baby T,' Lily whispered while trying to compose herself.

But Taron didn’t respond. He was transfixed on the monitor. Not showing any emotion either, which wasn't like him. “That’s our baby…” He murmured in disbelief.

You and Taron got to see and hear the baby for a few more minutes as the technician took photographs for you to keep. A few moments later the technician turned off the machine and handed you a paper towel to wipe the gel off your stomach. “Everything looks good.” She hands you a line of ultrasound pictures, and you feel a whirlwind of emotions inside you. Taron smiles at you as get sit back up on the bed, “You’ll have another appointment in a few weeks time, in the meantime I want you to start taking these prenatal vitamins, these with help with the development of the baby as well as your health during the pregnancy.”

“Okay. Thank you.” You say as you jump off the bed and collect your belongings.

“No problem. I’ll see you guys soon. Have a good rest of the day.” She guides you out of the room. You thank her and leave the room with the Ultrasound pictures in your trembling hands.

You and your dad walk silently back to the car. You climb into the passenger side, still staring down at the pictures of your little blob. You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You couldn’t believe it. Taron turned the engine of the car on and turned to look at you before driving off. He leant over and placed a little kiss on the top of your head.

“Come on. Let’s go and show your mum.” You looked over at him and smiled. You couldn’t have done this without him.

Tag list -

@writingformany

#taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton #taron x reader #i love taron #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton fanfic #Angst #Fanfiction #taron egerton fluff #fluff #Pregnant #teen pregnancy #ultrasound

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angelhummel · 3 years

Text

Sharing my personal headcanons about the Glee girls and what dolls they had as kids (and beyond) bc I like Glee and I like dolls and I wanna talk about both. Play along at home by guessing which parts of all these are me projecting things from my own childhood

Tina - For starters, Tina wasn’t very into dolls as a kid. Her older sister had a lot of Barbies but was quick to outgrow them, and Tina didn’t want them, so her younger sister got them and loved them. Tina only played with them when she was playing with her younger sister. Though when she’d “play” by herself it usually involved cutting off the dolls’ hair or drawing on them or creating crazy storylines where they have to kill one of the dolls in a ritualistic cult sacrifice. #JustGirlyThings. Of course her parents noticed and were like okay, no more dolls for you then. Besides, Tina was getting older and wasn’t really interested in dolls or toys in any capacity then. But then when Monster High came out, Tina was suddenly interested in dolls. It didn’t matter that she was a teenager and in high school, it just mattered that the dolls were creepy and awesome. She started snatching those up and amassed quite the collection. Draculaura is of course her favorite (she even dressed as her for Halloween once!) but she has at least one doll of every character. She and Artie even used them for several stop motion short films that he directed (and some glee clubbers lent their voices to the project, of course!)

Marley - Marley’s mom always tried to provide for her the things she thought every little girl should have. Of course that included dolls. Most of the time it was those knock off Barbies that aren’t as well made, and the heads come off way too easily, but Marley didn’t care. She loved them all the same and was always making up stories with them to entertain herself and her mom. Then one birthday, Millie got one of those Our Generation dolls for Marley and Marley was over the moon. She thought it was a real American Girl doll and excitedly gushed about to her classmates. At least until one of them rudely pointed out that it didn’t have the name of any American Girl doll she’d ever heard of, and it must be one of the cheaper versions. But Marley didn’t care, and she still loved it. Millie couldn’t get a lot of extra outfits or accessories either, mostly stuck to one for birthday and one for Christmas. So when Marley was a little older, she started making her own clothes for her doll. Using cheap squares of fabric to make dresses, then buying yarn to knit or crochet with. It’s part of what lead to her being so creative and thrifty and eventually making clothes for herself

Rachel - Of course Rachel was spoiled with every kind of toy you could ask for, but she wasn’t big on typical “play time”. Most of the time she would line up her dolls and stuffed animals as her audience while she performed for them. Or she would use her dolls to act out scenes from her favorite musicals. So she had enough Barbie dolls to fill out a cast as big as, say, Les Mis or Into The Woods, and enough outfits and costumes to make the dolls look as close to the various characters as possible. But she was more into stuffed animals than dolls anyway since they’re softer and easier to cuddle

Quinn - She had a huge collection of Barbie dolls as a kid. But her mom was the “keep them in the box for display” type so Quinn hardly got to play with any of them. Though she still had hand me downs from Frannie. So most of the only dolls she got to play with were the vibrant late 80s ones. And of course she had a couple of American Girl dolls for tea parties and such. Quinn was big on tea parties, following her mom’s midcentury housewife lead and helping her with lots of baking in the kitchen. She also had lots of dollhouses and played house with her dolls, even if she wasn’t always into it.

Santana - She was a Bratz girl 100%. She liked that they started out with characters that looked more like her. And of course the clothes were a hundred times cooler than anything Barbie was doing at the time. She also had some My Scene dolls for similar reasons, but did add a few Barbies to the collection later on. She was also a little more intense in her play times, mostly reenacting crazy scenes from telenovelas that she watched with her mom and Alma. The first time Brittany came to her house, she found the dolls hidden in a box in the closet and stole her Yasmin doll bc it reminded her of Santana. Hence the Bratz doll in Brittany’s Barbie dollhouse. And the only blonde haired blue eyed doll she has in her collection is a Barbie from Brittany, because Brittany wanted them to be even and that doll represented her

Brittany - Britt had every type of doll imaginable. Especially the slightly more obscure options like Polly Pocket and Betty Spaghetti. Tiny rubber clothes and weird little doll parts everywhere. But of course she has her Barbies too. She has her dollhouse with plenty of dolls to live there. As a kid she was very into making up stories with them, and even still did that into her teens. But as she got older she was also into giving the dolls makeovers. Finding old and forgotten dolls at yard sales, Goodwill, eBay, wherever else, and getting them for cheap, cleaning them up and washing and styling their hair good as new again. It was almost therapeutic for her, and something fun and simple to focus on when things were getting too difficult in the rest of her life. The whole glee club even got in on it. If they ever happened upon some dolls that looked like they’d been through a lot, they took them to Brittany for her to make over. And she’d sometimes give back the made over ones as presents. Including a My Little Pony for Kurt, and a Barbie head for Finn bc she was redoing the hair and lost the rest of the body

Kitty - Between her and her sisters, Kitty had every type of doll imaginable. They had a huge playroom with dollhouses and other sets lining the walls, and shelves full of dolls and furniture galore. And most of the dolls reflected the blonde hair, blue eyed aesthetic of the rest of the family. Occasionally with a brunette or redhead thrown in for diversity. Kitty always felt too young to play with her older sisters, and too old to play with her younger sisters, so she was usually playing by herself. Using her dolls to reenact moments from her real life when someone at school annoyed her, as a way to get her anger and frustration out. Her mom eventually found two girl dolls in bed together, and all the boy dolls tied up and thrown into the basement, and Kitty didn’t understand why she wasn’t allowed to play with them anymore. But now she has a Monster High Gooliope doll from Tina that she keeps next to her similarly colored puppet from Blaine, and cherishes her weird dolls from her weirder friends

Mercedes - Her parents were more strict and practical, so Cedes didn’t get a lot of fashion-centric toys as a kid. She was more relegated to learning toys, and things like doctor’s kits and puzzles and things to build with. Her parents did get her one of the My Twin dolls so at least Mercedes would have a toy that looked like her. But she was still interested in Barbies just because of how much she loved the fashion. So her parents tried to compromise by getting her a doctor doll and a teacher doll. Which just irritated Mercedes more because they didn’t even have cool outfits. So that lead to her trying to make her own clothes for them so they could look as fashionable as she wanted them to. It took a while for her to get the hang of it, but it’s also what lead to her being interested in making her own clothes. And even as an adult she still has a good little collection of the more diverse dolls they’re making these days

#glee #glee headcanon #glee girls #tina cohen chang #mercedes jones #rachel berry #kitty wilde #santana lopez #marley rose #brittany pierce #quinn fabray #my headcanons #mine #my thoughts #im not reading this twice so i hope everything makes sense

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that-one-girl-behind-you · 4 years

Text

Illicio 19/?

Part 18

CWs for this chapter: -Depression -Parental neglect -Past implied suicidal ideation (These are present in the very first POV, and are related to Martin's past. Please feel free to skip it if the topics make you uncomfortable) -Canon character death

----

Gerry's never been to the Lonely before, though he's felt its grip on him many times in his life.

It has loomed over him ever since he was a child, alone and confused and fearing and craving his mother's hugs in equal measure. Back when he first started learning about the fears he did wonder why it never struck, why it never pulled him in to devour him whole. It was only later that he understood what made him so resistant to this particular fear.

You defeat the Lonely with love, and Gerry has never been short of that.

XIX

Martin is seven years old the first time he realizes how utterly and completely alone he is. Back then he still goes by a name that isn't his, and he doesn't yet have the words to describe why it feels wrong.

He looks around at all the children in his classroom; their clothes look clean and smell good, and their mothers not only pick them up from school, but they look happy when doing so. He asks mum once why she never smiles, does something hurt? Maybe the doctor can give her more pills?

Mum doesn't respond. She merely gives Martin that long, serious look that always makes Martin think he said something dumb, and goes to her room, leaving Martin alone with his cold supper and a slow gathering fog that he can't see.

Martin is fourteen years old when he first understands he's unwanted. He's begun to figure out who he is, and his clothes are ill-fitting, just like he himself is, bouncing around between groups of people that aren't really his peers, and merely accept his presence like one would any other part of the scenery.

Mum is no longer subtle, and the look isn't serious as much as it is distasteful, no matter how hard Martin tries. He would like to tell someone about this, but when he thinks of reaching out he remembers the only messages in his old school notebooks are those of well-meaning teachers, wishing him luck and praising a potential that Martin knows isn't there.

He's sixteen years old, when Martin comes to the conclusion that he's perhaps meant to be alone forever. Mum's illness has gotten so bad that Martin has to drop off school to work and care for her. She doesn't look at him anymore, not even when Martin finally shows up looking like he's always wanted to. He doesn't know exactly how to feel about this, because as much as he didn't want a fight, it's yet another proof that his existence is irrelevant in her life.

He tries to tell himself this is just his poor self esteem. Of course his mother loves him, she's his mother. She kept him alive, she cared for him, she's just... ill. And she's always been strong-willed. To a child it might've looked like irritation, but Martin is an adult now and he's learned life is not at all like in Hallmark movies, and if he sat down to cry every time mum didn't say 'I love you' back, he'd seldom have time to do anything else.

Martin is twenty two when he accepts he's exhausted. Of this life, of his mother, of himself. He wants to do something about it, but the pill bottles behind the bathroom mirror scare him just as much as the University pamphlets he hides under his pillow.

He strides up to the imposing looking building by the river with his forged CV in hand because he doesn't know what else to do. He gets the job, but as the Head of the Institute shakes his hand to dismiss him, Martin looks at Elias Bouchard's bright green eyes, and knows that he knows. That somehow this man has realized he's an impostor, that he's gotten this far only by convincing people he's far more capable than he actually is.

But he needs the money, and this job is far less demanding than anything else he could've gotten with his lack of credentials. He signs the contract, and he doesn't notice the jealous cling of the fog around him, as the Eye turns its gaze on him.

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

"What is this place?" Tim asks when they come into the cavernous chamber.

Basira looks around, nailed in place by the unsettling feeling of relief she's experiencing. The cells are empty behind their rusted bars, but Basira can See the outlines of the prisoners where they died when they were Known by a power they couldn't even begin to understand.

"It's- it's a place of Beholding," she mutters. She hates it here, hates how comfortable she feels in this place that's so permeated with death. It's another reminder of what she is, of all the shit she let pass; it's a bit of a bad joke, that after looking the other way for so long she's now become something that can't look away. "Jon's up there. And Martin too."

"What about Gerry?" Tim asks.

"I dropped him there. Not sure where he went after." They whip around at the new voice, and sure enough the entrance to the passageway they came through is now a very large version of Helen's door, with the Distortion herself swinging too-long legs as she sits on an enlarged doorknob. "He was in quite a fit about Martin, though."

"Well, better late than never, I guess." Tim grunts.

Basira rolls her eyes, because of course Tim has been so lost on his personal drama of whether or not he wants to forgive Jon that he hasn't noticed anything else. Still, her mouth twitches; it's a good distraction from the constant wondering about Daisy. She cups her hands around her mouth, taking a tentative step forward.

"Jon? Did you find them?" she calls out. No one responds, and Basira gets a muted pang of surprise at the way her stomach drops with worry. Maybe she did care after all. "Get ready. Elias was here. And Lukas too."

"That's comforting," she hears Tim grumble behind her as he follows her lead. It feels... it's different.

It's not Daisy. It will probably never be Daisy again, but it feels good to have a team at her back.

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

The Lonely smells like tears.

It's a deceptively simple smell, building up like bad memories and a knot at the back of your throat.

Much like in the Dark, there's no colors here. Unlike the Dark, there is nothing here, not even fear, or the certainty that there is something waiting for you to give up and consume you.

The Lonely doesn't care about you.

No one does, or you wouldn't have ended here. Do you care about this? You have always cared so much. It was exhausting, and it did nothing but cause trouble to you and the ones you thought you loved.

Isn't this a lot easier? You don't have to feel anything, here. You can't hurt anyone here.

"-on? Can you hear me?"

The scent of lavender hits softly like a memory, and Jon blinks until he can distinguish between the cold inside him and the cold around him.

"Gerry?" he asks, but his hand closes around nothing.

"-m here." Gerry's voice reaches him from far away, even though Jon is sure they were holding on to each other when they entered.

"I- I can't see you."

"-ou feel me?"

He can, Jon finds. A thread of white-hot steel pulling at the left side of his chest, the ghastly feeling of lips on his own.

"Yes. Yes, I can." A love that is felt but not seen, just like-

"-ind Martin," Gerry says from his corner of the Lonely, which could be an inch or a mile away. "-ocus on that."

That- that makes sense. Martin is still human, he's the most at risk here. Once they find him, they can get out, and the other will follow. Should follow.

"Okay, I- be careful." Jon tries to add something else, but the words that Gerry uttered so easily on the kitchen floor that night feel impossible to push out.

"-ove you," Gerry whispers, before his presence fades away.

'Me too,' Jon thinks fiercely, desperately and futilely. 'Me too, and I will find the two of you if I have to Know every inch of the Lonely, until it can't keep you from me.'

The Beholding purrs in delight at the declaration. It doesn't care why the Archivist uses it as long as he does. Jon should probably care about that a little more than he does, but the only thing in his mind now is Martin, and the need to get him out of here before he can't distinguish between it and himself.

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

"Can you see the entry?" Tim asks, stepping away from the dry corpse in the center of the room.

"Not really," Basira shrugs. "I can see where their trails end, but- we can't go in, Tim."

And that's that, he supposes. She says it with such finality, with such certainty, that Tim has no choice but to accept it as fact.

Martin is gone.

Martin, the last of them, the only one untouched by all this shit. Martin who brewed them tea and pretended he wasn't making cow eyes at Jon even though he behaved like an absolute ass. Martin who found Tim at his living room with fire in his veins and offered him the same unconditional friendship they'd shared before everything began to go south.

He warned them about this. He warned both of them and the worst part is he can't even be angry at Jon about it, because Jon is gone too, and because he himself wasn't able to keep Martin here, he wasn't enough.

This is- he's the only one left. They're all gone, and they slipped through his fingers even after he got a second chance, one after the other, Danny, Sasha, J-

"I wouldn't touch him right now if I were you," Helen says somewhere in the room, and it's only when he opens them that Tim realizes he's shut his eyes; he looks in time to see Basira's hand retreating from his shoulder, as Helen speaks again. "Should I go get Melanie?"

"No," Basira says immediately. "She's out. We don't- we don't go to Melanie unless there's no other choice. We have to-"

"We have to what?" Tim snaps. He's so tired of this, of losing people- he liked it much better when he'd just woken up and all he could feel was rage. "Let's just pop your eyes out too, so I can blow the fucking place up." And himself too, if he's lucky.

"Could you stop moping around already?!" Basira whips around to face him. Her eyes are burning with intensity, and her fists are clenched and shaking by her sides. "You've seen him walk from worse, you've walked from worse. Now- now we have to- I don't know what happened here, but if Elias walked out of jail exactly today, then it's got to have something to do with Martin, or-"

"Or Jon's marks." The answer hits Tim like a slap to the face.

'You're just missing one, aren't you?'

'The Lonely, yes.'

'How convenient isn't it? Martin's sudden promotion.'

'I'm well aware it's my fault, Tim, thank you.'

What else could it be? Whatever Elias is planning-

He turns to her, and in her eyes he finds the same understanding, the same clicking of pieces he just went through. The fourteen marks were deliberate, orchestrated; Annabelle Cane's statement was nothing short of a confession.

It doesn't change anything, not really, everything that happened, everything Jon did is still there, a wound that scarred badly and that still aches when pulled at, but-

"We have to get them away," Basira says.

But at least for now, Tim has a purpose again.

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

Gerry's never been to the Lonely before, though he's felt its grip on him many times in his life.

You defeat the Lonely with love, and Gerry has never been short of that.

Whether or not it's been paid in kind is another matter entirely, but he loved his mother, and he loved Gertrude, and he loved every soul he helped save from a fate worse than death. It has to be enough now, and if it isn't... well, Gerry's always been good at making round pegs fit into square holes, and this won't be the exception. He won't let Martin be the exception.

He wanders across the Lonely for what feels like hours, when he spies a figure hunched on the floor. There's no heart to race in his chest, but Gerry hurries his steps when he recognizes the muted black of Martin's hair, the tired curve to his shoulders.

"Martin? Martin!" Gerry exclaims, falling to his knees across from him, and swatting away at the thick fog that lays around the man like a cloak. "Fuck, I- it's so good to see you. What the hell were you thinking?!"

Martin doesn't look at him, doesn't even look up, and when Gerry lays his hands on his shoulders there's a thin layer of cool dampness that he wipes away hurriedly.

"Huh. I didn't expect you'd be here," Martin's voice echoes oddly, like it's carrying across water. "I thought they'd stop if I let them put me here. Did they send you here too?"

"I- n- no, Martin." Gerry tries to crouch lower to enter his field of vision, before he carefully lays a hand on Martin's round cheek to softly pull his face up. "No, we- Jon brought me in. We came here for you.

"Jon." Martin's grey eyed focus on him, and Gerry feels like he's been punched in the gut. He can't taste the emotion in Martin's voice like he can with Jon's, but he doesn't need to. He's heard the kind of sorrow poured in those three letters.

"Yes, he- he's here too. Now that I got you, we just need to-"

"You should go to him."

"I mean, yes, we both need to-"

"I think it's better if I stay here, Gerry."

"...What?" Gerry scowls, then feels his eyes widening in terror when his hand starts going through Martin's cheek. "Shit- Martin no! We need-"

"I really loved him, you know?" Martin's silhouette is growing harder to see, like a mirror fogging up.

"Of course I know, you- Martin you pretty much only tolerated me because of him, I know you love him."

Martin lets out a chuckle; it's a low, sad sound that makes Gerry's stomach churn.

"At first, I suppose." He shrugs, and his contour grows a bit fainter. The only thing Gerry can see clearly is his sad little smile, like some twisted version of the Cheshire cat. "I was sad at first that you- but you turned out to be so amazing, in the end. I was happy he found you."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck- Gerry tries to grab at him again, but his hand just goes clean through.

"Martin, it's- it's not over. We're not done, he wants you, he still-"

"I think it's time to go now-"

"Martin Blackwood you're not going anywhere," Gerry snaps. This can't- this is not going to end like this. He won't let it. They were supposed to sit down and talk about the future, there was going to be a future to talk about, for fuck's sake! "I will follow you to the end of the Lonely if I have to, you're not going to shake me off this easily."

"I really liked that about you too. You made me feel wanted."

"That's because I do, you idiot!"

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

"They're safe, see? At least for now." The voice is insidious, frustrating. It gives off the feeling of practiced politeness, empty pleasantries that mean even less than cold, uncaring silence. "It's very heartwarming, if ultimately futile, of course."

"I take it you're the reason I can't reach them?" Jon asks coldly. He can feel the Forsaken rearranging itself as they speak, the space between his and the two silhouettes hunched over in the distance growing wider and wider, so that every step he takes towards then moves him ten steps back.

"Does it really matter?" Peter asks. "They don't need you there, and it's only a matter of time before they give up."

"I will find them first," Jon says simply; there is no other choice, no scenario where they don't come out of this together. He'll make sure of it.

Peter laughs, and the sound echoes oddly around Jon, like only the ghost of it was reaching his ears.

"I doubt so. But you're welcome to keep trying."

"Why don't you come speak face to face, Lukas?" The fog around him takes on a sickly green hue where the glow of his eyes illuminate it, and the Lonely curls more thickly around him, hiding Peter from his Sight, from his reach. "Afraid of being seen?"

"I've dealt with your kind before, Archivist."

"So that's a yes, then."

"Fooling around with that toy of yours really have you some undeserved bravado, didn't it?" He sounds a bit disgruntled now, Jon notices with a muted, dark amusement. "Since he's not human, I'm not sure if he can even be consumed here, you know? I wonder if he'll just walk around forever until he shuts down."

"I'm not his only anchor," Jon scowls. That much is true, isn't it? Melanie-

"Please. Do you really believe he'll walk away without you? Both of you? Anchors are very effective, Archivist, as long as you aren't tied to a sinking one." Peter's smirk is palpable in his voice, and Jon grits his teeth. That's- it's not entirely wrong. Gerry's far too selfless, far too dedicated to putting others before himself.

"He'll do it for Martin," Jon says with far more vigour than he feels. That was the plan, and Gerry's not stupid in the least. Out of the three of them, Jon's the one that has a highest chance of survival here. If he has a chance to at least pull Martin out-

"Oh, but Martin doesn't want to go." Peter chuckles. "You let him fly too close, Archivist. This is his place now."

Silence stretches over them for a moment, the echo of Jon's breathing the only sound for miles.

"...You brought him in here, though." That's what Gerry said, what the Eye confirmed. Martin chose to come willingly, but it was Peter who opened the door. "You can kick him out. Both of them."

Peter doesn't respond immediately, and Jon focuses on the two silhouettes that he can see, but will never reach, not as long as the Lonely keeps pushing them apart.

"I could. For a price."

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

It feels like his words resonate around them for an eternity, before the odd dissonance of the Lonely takes it away completely.

Martin is still there, barely visible and barely tangible under his bruising grip, the only sound between them is Gerry's agitated breathing.

"Martin?" Gerry asks carefully. While Martin has stopped fading away into the fog, he doesn't seem to be getting better either. But if his words kept him here, then- then maybe there's still a chance. "I'm- I know I'm not Jon, but- but I came here for you, alright? I wanted to come for you."

But it doesn't work that way, does it? You can be the most desired, the most loved person in the world and still be alone.

"Why?" Martin asks. His eyes fix on Gerry's, grey and empty of any and all emotion, but it has to mean something, that he hasn't left, that he still wants to know.

"We need you," Gerry answers truthfully. He doesn't know too well what it means, but it's been a while since this was just about Jon.

"You know that's a lie, Gerry." The corner of Martin's lips twitches into a humorless smile.

"It's not, it's-"

"I think I want to stay. Nothing hurts in here. It feels... quiet. We can all be happy, like this." There's a longing in his voice when he says it, a soft wistfulness that Gerry doesn't trust right now.

"Martin, I'm- listen to me," Gerry asks, nearly begs. He shouldn't have been the one to find him, he realizes with a start. It has to be someone he loves, he remembers telling Melanie so long ago. And still the fact remains that Gerry's the only one here, and if he's not enough, then he'll have to remind him of the one who might just be. "Think of why you did this, think-

"...What?"

"Martin, who is your reason?"

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

"You want me to stay in their place." Jon says quietly, clenching a fist in the fabric of his jumper as the realization dawns on him. "Why?"

Peter stalks around him, watching him under the cover provided by his patron. He can feel the Eye searching for him, but its intensity is growing fainter by the second, as the Archivist begins to bend under the weight of his own doubt.

"Trust me, Jon, the Eye has given me plenty of reasons. But I must admit I'm simply not too happy with Elias at the moment and I'm very curious to see what he'll do if you don't make it out of here." Bit of an understatement, honestly.

"I-"

"That's the offer," Peter interrupts. "What do you say, Archivist?"

The desolate questioning in Jon's face is an absolute delight to behold.

"Take your time. Though I feel like the choice should be easy. Or are you hesitating because your pet undead will die without you anyways? You can't have everything, Jon." Peter tuts consolingly. "Either he dies out there, or the three of you stay in here."

"You said- you know Elias is planning something. He-"

"Oh, he'll try to get you back of course." Too much invested in this one, years of orchestrating his marks and survival. Elias won't just start over, Peter isn't even sure he could start over, without the Mother's webs that drape over this one's shoulder as a blessing. "Granted, I'm not sure how much of you there'll be left by the time he works his way back into my good graces.But that's not necessarily a bad thing in your books, is it?"

"...It isn't." The thrum of the Eye in the air fades a little more, when Jon lets his head drop.

Peter isn't terribly surprised. He might not be Martin, whose entire core calls to the Forsaken like they are one and the same, bit Jonathan Sims is still am incredibly lonely man.

It's about regret, in his case. Peter can feel all the mistimed connections that haunt him, when he reached out only to find it was far too late and he'd pushed way too far. The memory of waking up alone in a hospital room, and knowing he was neither expected nor wanted back.

"I thought so. Your friends will be much safer without you, Jon. You know that." He's not sure how much more convincing Jon actually needs, but it can't hurt to double down, he decides as he stops his pacing by his side and leans in to whisper in his ear. "You can't hurt anyone here."

"I... I suppose so."

"You know so." And Peter does too. Won't it be poetic, to keep Elias' pet in here as revenge for his own sabotaged ritual? Not much he can do, if there's no one to wear the crown. "It's all up to you, Jon. What do you want?"

Peter has dealt with beholders before, far more than he should, actually. He knows how they work, how for all they preach omniscience, they home in on a purpose, and become blind to everything else. Gertrude wanted war, Elias wants power, and this sad, broken man wishes uselessly for redemption, and if he can't have it, he'll have immolation.

"So? What will it be?" he asks.

Jon's head tilts up slowly, and Peter freezes at the intense neon green of his eyes, and the downward curve of his tightly pressed lips.

"A statement, I think," he says, and all around him the Watcher's eyes burn holes through the fog, pinning Peter in place like stakes, their focus so heavy it stings.

He tries to remain calm, to keep his fear from the Eye. This is his domain, and he can't be harmed here, not even by Elias' trained dog-

"Peter Lukas, you will give me your story."

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

His reason.

Did he have one?

Was it saving the world, or did he just want to look good while killing himself? Was it revenge against these things that took all the ones he loved, or spite at not being taken himself?

This place makes it hard to think. All you can do is sit and feel the emptiness inside you, smell the tears and listen to the silence. Was that his reason, finding a place to escape to? Maybe he just wanted to rest, for once, forever.

He's so tired.

There's a man before him. His hands are heavy on Martin's shoulder and face, but so careful, like he's made of glass or secrets. The man's eyes are beautiful, desperate mix of greens and blues, and his lips curl around words that barely reach him, words Martin doesn't know if he wants to hear.

He did have a reason, didn't he? It had a name and a face, a lopsided smile and eyes swimming with sadness.

Didn't he hate Martin? That's what they had in common, isn't it? Before the worms, before the fear.

Where is he now?

Martin remembers him, dead in all but name, laid on a hospital bed like a broken doll. His hand is limp in Martin's own, l and every time he presses it to his lips Martin swears it's grown colder.

Was that his reason? What was he more afraid back then, the thought that he wouldn't wake up, or that he might?

The man before him speaks again, and his hands on him feel heavier, warmer.

He doesn't like him, Martin remembers. How easily he stepped into the Archives, how well they fit together. Martin looks at him, and he doesn't know if he wants to tell him to go away or ask him what took him so long, why couldn't he have come before Martin gave up on his future for a chance at saving Jon's?

Martin tries to recall the man's name; maybe it'll help him figure out why he's here. It's a good name, he's sure, because he's a good man. A simple name, the kind you say with a smile. An incredibly, absolutely, undeniably mulish and irritating name, what on Earth is he doing here?!

Martin came here to keep him safe, because even knowing this was a trap for Jon, it was the only way to get Elias to stop hurting him, why would this idiot follow him in?!

Now all the work he did will be for nothing, because Martin knows as sure as the sky is blue that Gerry won't go away, won't let him fade into the grey. He'll find Martin again and again and again, until he answers his question, or the Lonely consumes them both.

This was a gamble he took to try and protect him, and now both of them are here and Jon is lost in here too, and Martin wants to scream at the absurdity of it all.

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

"Did you pack-"

"I packed the first things I saw, Basira, if they don't like it they're going to have to suck it up."

"That's fair."

"Where are they going?"

"North. Daisy had- she has a place. A cottage on the countryside."

"Oh, Martin will eat that stuff right up."

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

"-tin come on." Gerry tries again. Martin is still there, still tangible under his hands, but he still won't talk, won't look at him, the only sign of life to him is the slight furrowing of his brow. "Think- think of him, he's coming for you, we both did. Tim would've come too if he'd been there I'm sure, he's a prick but he loves you. So many people care, Martin, but we need you to care too, we-"

It's alright, he tells himself with just the slightest edge of panic. He's got time, and he'll keep going until the Lonely steals his last breath from his lungs, they are not going to lose Martin.

"Just- you have to- Martin I know you have what you need to break it, but you need to remember it yourself. You need-"

"I need you-" Martin's voice rings out clear and firm, without the ringing of the Lonely, and Gerry freezes. Martin's eyes are bright and green and burning with righteous indignation as he scowls down at him. "-to stop being so incredibly infuriating!"

And then Martin is collapsing against him, and it's all Gerry can do to hold him steady as a wave of relief washes over him.

"I'm- sorry?" He asks, his voice tinged with confusion.

"No you're not," comes Martin's sullen voice, muffled against his shoulder.

Gerry lets out a bark of somewhat hysterical laughter, tightening his grip around Martin's frame. He feels solid, and growing warmer by the second, and Gerry feels a little like he did when Jon opened his eyes after so much begging.

"No, I'm not."

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

The man gasps in exhaustion and pain, as the last of his tale tumbles out of his lips.

The Archivist watches, adds the story to his archive with the same delight with which one would enjoy a feast.

It's a pathetic, hilarious joke that Peter Lukas ultimately dies protecting the Pupil's secrets, when the Archivist demands the truth.

The Eye hums in delight, and the Forsaken shies away from its unblinking gaze, from the power of its chosen, from the future this promises.

It knows with glorious certainty that when the Archive speaks next, the world will listen.

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

Martin feels the Lonely break around them like something being ripped from his chest.

He misses it immediately, the pungent smell of salt and humidity, and the emptiness inside him. The arms around his shoulders, the scent of lavender and ink under his nose, the warmth of another body pressed tightly against his is overwhelming.

"-'re back!" He hears Basira scream somewhere, and the sound of echoing steps coming closer.

"Hey there," Gerry whispers somewhere close to his ear. "I have someone for you."

And Martin's heart drops, because he knows who that is, and he knows what he said the last time he saw him. How could he forgive him for that? For turning him away when he came to him with a promise of freedom, of a future together? Of-

"Martin?" Jon says his name like a prayer, like he doesn't know if he's more afraid of his silence or his response, and when Martin lifts his face from Gerry's shoulder, he finds that he looks much the same, his teeth worrying nervously at his bottom lip as his dark eyes search Martin's face for... for what?

"Jon." Martin's own voice is a pitiful, exhausted thing, but the name sounds just right in his lips, like a memory, like an answer to a question he can't bear to think right now.

It's like Jon's strings have been cut, and he goes down on his knees by their side, slotting himself right under the arm Gerry lifts for him. Martin has a spare second to think of how well they fit together, before Jon buries his face in his chest and it hits Martin that he's here too, held between them like he belongs, like they were waiting for him.

"I'm sorry I didn't find you," Jon whispers into his chest. He feels nothing like Martin imagined, and is somehow much more real for that. "I'm sorry I let it get this far."

What could he possibly say to that? That it's not Jon's fault that Martin wanted to die? That he's sorry too, because now Jon has all the marks and nobody knows what that means, but it can't be good?

Objectively speaking, Martin knows it would've been much better for them -maybe even for the whole world, who knows what Elias is thinking?- if they'd let him in the Lonely.

It's tough to voice that aloud however, with Gerry's arms around him and Jon tucked so perfectly under his chin. Their presence hurts, but Martin hasn't felt this much like himself ever since Tim first came, and he knows he needs them here precisely for this reason. Without the Lonely's overbearing, suffocating presence all around him, it's all too easy to see just how close he came to losing himself.

"...I've missed you," Martin says in the end, probably long past the time they've stopped waiting for an answer. Still, it's the truth, and Martin's spent so long denying it that it feels almost like another lie. He tightens his arms around Jon, partly to check if he's allowed, but mostly to confirm he's actually real and there.

Gerry clears his throat a little. "Would you like me to leave you two alone?" he asks quietly.

'You found me,' Martin wants to say. 'You found me, and you didn't let go, why would I want you to leave?'

Words are still difficult though, especially with the fog still trying to pull at him, yelling at him from all sides that he doesn't matter, that they saved him out of some misguided sense of heroism, and not any particular interest for him. That it is he who is intruding, that they could've lost each other, and it would've been his fault.

Martin shakes his head and shifts to lean a bit more comfortably on his shoulder. His neck is already starting to smart from bending down, but even the pain is a blessing, a reminder that he's alive, that he's human and can feel things, good and bad.

The faint scent of lavender drifting up from Gerry's hair and Jon's comforting weight in his arms are grounding. Soothing.

"Martin?!" Tim's arrival is heralded by the room growing warmer, as if to chase away the remnants of the fog that clings to Martin's tired bones. "Fuck. You're- are you alright?"

"Right as rain," Martin rasps out, cracking an eye open -when did he close them?- to look up at him. Even splashed in blood and dirt, Tim's a sight for sore eyes, the concern in his gaze so simple and sincere not even the Lonely can twist it into loathing. "What are the bags for?"

"Management said you had too many vacation days saved up," Tim croaks with a laugh just this side of hysterical. "We booked you a holiday."

And Martin would like to respond to the joke, he really would, but his eyelids are growing heavy with exhaustion, and it's all he can do to aim a smile -who knew he could still do that?- his way, before he lets go.

"You have to get away before he comes back-" is the last he hears Basira say.

It's not over, he remembers, they're not done. But for the time being, they're all together and they're safe, and Martin is here because they want him to; it still feels like a lie, but nothing else makes sense and he has to allow the tentative, absurd hope that it might be true.

Martin decides that, maybe for once, the rest can wait.

#vit writes #jongerrymartin #jgm #illicio

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soprano193 · 4 years

Text

Not a Couple

Chapter 9

Maura:

Waking in Paris without Jane was expected. A day earlier, Maura would have thought Jane would wake her, and they'd share a tearful goodbye as she took a taxi to the airport for her early flight. She hadn't expected the turn their last night would take, the way the light reflected off Jane's skin making her glow, her smile warm and inviting. If Maura could have stopped everything at that moment, she would have. Instead, she had kissed Jane, making her run away. Her closest friend ignored her pleas to come back, her hand covering her mouth as she backed away. In the hotel room she slept, her head under the blankets, so Maura couldn't see her face. And in the morning Maura awoke to a note on the pillow. I hope you can forget this someday. It was cryptic. Much with Jane was sometimes hard to understand at first. But now Maura didn't know if she could reach out and get the explanation. She was left feeling lost. She repeated those seven words like a mantra, trying to figure her friend out. In the taxi to the airport. I hope you can forget this someday. While sitting next to the snoring man in the window seat. I hope you can forget this someday. In the silent cab ride to her house. I hope you can forget this someday. And as she unpacked, finding Jane's worn Garciaparra t-shirt wrapped up in her laundry. I hope you can forget this someday. Sitting on her bed, Jane's Red Sox shirt in her hand, Maura let her tears fall. She didn't want to forget.

The next morning, after another fitful night of sleep, she made her way downstairs. Before she had time to process it, she was wrapped in the arms of her pseudo-mother, the Italian woman laughing as she tightened her grip. "Oh Maura, I missed you girls so much!" She pressed a loud kiss to Maura's cheek, making the Doctor smile.

Despite knowing the care behind the gesture, Maura couldn't help but stiffen. She wasn't quite upset enough for the touch to make her skin crawl, but the woman's embrace was enough to make Maura uncomfortable. When Angela let go, Maura felt like she could breathe again. "Hello, Angela! I've missed you, too." Her response was careful, just cheery enough to make Angela happy and not ask any questions.

The older woman beckoned her over to the island, where Maura saw a plate and steaming cup ready. "I made you breakfast and some tea." Sitting, Maura noticed Angela had made her famous bunny pancake, its face complete with a smile that was unnatural for the species, but adorable on a pancake. Angela leaned on the counter across from Maura, watching her with anticipation. Although Maura wasn't interested in eating, she took a bite off the ear, faking a smile in the other woman's direction. Angela seemed to take the bait, relaxing, and wiping the counter. "It's not a fresh croissant with jam, but I thought it was better than nothing."

"Thank you." Maura took another bite and sipped her tea. She tossed another smile at Angela, hoping she looked natural. "Did Jane text you? Did she make it home alright?"

"She didn't tell you?"

Maura's palms began to perspire. That was the wrong question to ask. Thinking on her feet, Maura began to talk. "Well, I was flying when she landed, so I'm sure she wasn't thinking about me."

It took a moment, but Angela began to nod at the explanation. "Makes sense." Maura breathed out as she spoke, thankful for the simple explanation, thankful that she didn't need to get into the longer explanation. Abandoning the towel, Angela leaned forward, the corners of her mouth pulled upward. "So tell me. How was Paris?"

It was the one question she knew was going to come up, but didn't want to answer. Her mind wandered back to Paris, catching Jane's face in the hall of mirrors, or the way her eyes shone in the lights of the Tower at night, laughing with her in the catacombs, and the little moments alone together in their room. Then she heard those words in the back of her mind. I hope you can forget this someday. Looking down at the pancake she didn't want to eat, she answered. "Paris was really fun. Jane told me she sent you pictures."

"Well she did, but she didn't say much."

Sighing, Maura took one last bite of her pancake before pushing her chair back. "Well, I can tell you more later tonight. Right now, I need to head to work. I have to check in with Dr. Drake, and catch up on some of my more official business."

"But you just got home. Can't you take a day to relax?" Maura could hear the dejection in the older woman's voice. As much as she wanted to talk about her vacation with Jane, the memories were so potent and too painful.

"I relaxed for a month. I need to get back to work." Feeling sorry, Maura offered Angela a short hug, trying not to make it feel stiff. "We'll talk later."

True to her word, Maura dressed for work, picking out a blue and white patterned skirt and a navy blouse with ruffles down the front. Saying a final goodbye to her tenant, Maura rushed out the door and headed to her car.

Kent had been efficient in her absence. Their caseload was manageable, the techs had done adequate work, and Maura found only a few instances of speculation. Even her office looked untouched, everything exactly as she remembered it before she left. It bothered her that it brought her comfort. She started by familiarizing herself with the cases she had missed. Listening to Kent's autopsy and going over the evidence presented by Detectives helped her feel like she had actually been there.

She had been listening for an hour when Dr. Drake made his appearance, knocking softly at her door. Waving, he came to stand in front of her desk. "You're back! I thought you'd take a day to reset your internal clock."

"Well, jet lag is easier to overcome when flying west, so I don't think it will be a big deal." She gestured to the couch, feeling more comfortable when both were sitting. "It looks like things went well here. There isn't much I need to address." At his nod, Maura continued. "Thank you for running things to my standards."

"Of course." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So, how was Paris?"

"I kissed Jane." She blurted it out before she could stop it, watching the look on his face as she spoke. Excitement, followed by confusion, the same emotions she felt by the whole event. Placing her hands in the middle on her forehead, she slowly moved them outward, slowing her thoughts and grounding her to the present. "I'm sorry for dumping this on you."

"No, it's fine. You don't need to apologize." His words made her sigh out in relief, her posture relaxing. "I'm guessing Jane didn't react well?"

"Jane ran away. I tried to give her space, but she was sleeping when I got back to the room." Or pretending to. Her breathing wasn't as deep as it was when she slept. Maura hadn't pushed it, wanting to give her time to process her thoughts. Pushing would have only made things worse.

"I have to admit, that's not the reaction I thought Jane would have." At Maura's puzzled look, he continued. "I didn't think your feelings were one-sided, just not realized by either party."

"For a few days, I thought the same thing." She remembered all the times she'd caught Jane looking at her over their trip. The hairs on her arm stood up as she remembered her friend calling her gorgeous before their outing to Notre Dame. "I saw the look on her face in the hall of mirrors, her eyes sad, but there was something else there. She didn't take her eyes off me either like she was afraid I was leaving. And I swear, while looking at the stained glass at Notre Dame, she was looking at me when she said it was beautiful." She could still feel Jane's gaze now, boring a hole into her cheek. "But I've never been good with social cues. I must have missed something."

Leaning back into the couch, Kent let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Maura."

She chuckled. "No need to apologize. It's not your fault." She traced the design in her skirt with her finger. "I was thinking. Whenever I don't know what to do in a social situation, I consult Jane. She doesn't judge me, and she explains things in a way I'll understand. This is the one situation where I couldn't consult her, so I'm not surprised that I've messed things up."

Kent's voice was soft, even, his attempt at keeping her calm. "Have you talked to her?" As Maura shook her head, he continued. "Well, you need to. The bond you two share is special. Even if I'm wrong and she doesn't feel the same, I believe you two can work past this."

Maura sat with his words, thinking about them as he stood. Thinking back to Paris, how domestic it had been, how normal their proximity felt, Maura wasn't sure she wanted to go back to just friendship. But considering the alternative led to the absence of Jane in her life, friendship was something she could settle on. Nodding, she addressed Kent as he left her office. "Thank you."

Back at home, she tried to return to some version of normalcy. With a plate of Angela's leftover risotto and a glass of wine, Maura settled at the table to read a medical journal. The only indication of the time changing was the steady emptying of her wine glass, and she was surprised when she heard the door open and close, signaling the end of Angela's shift. "Good! You're still awake!" She dropped her purse on the island and wrapped Maura in another tight embrace. Considering her chat earlier with Kent, Maura was feeling a bit better than she had been that morning and welcomed the contact with more ease.

"Would you like a glass? I've already had one." Maura pointed to the open bottle of wine still on the counter.

"No thanks. I'm meeting Ron for breakfast tomorrow." She did however get herself a glass of water, facing Maura from across the island. "So, tell me more about Paris. Did you two go to the Louvre?"

Maura swallowed, taking a moment to push her feelings for Jane to the side. She then smiled, remembering the artwork. "We did. I always seem to find something new that I like there each visit. This time I fell in love with the Lamassu."

Before she could start talking about the sheer age and condition of the statues, Angela interrupted, severing Maura's train of thought. "Did you see the Mona Lisa? Or the statue with no arms? I was so surprised that the Mona Lisa was so small."

Maura laughed. "We did. And Jane deduced that the Venus de Milo might have been dancing the hula."

This got Angela laughing. "Did she now?" So Maura decided to pull out her phone and look for the picture. She realized at once it was a bad idea. Scrolling through all those photos of Jane made compartmentalization much more difficult. When she found the picture, she passed the phone to Angela, who chuckled, her eyes tearing up. "I miss her." She began to flip through more pictures, and Maura was relieved that the last few they took were on Jane's phone and not hers. "It looks like you two had fun." She said it as she passed the phone back to Maura, her eyes searching the Doctor's face like she could see what Maura was hiding. It made her uncomfortable.

"We did." Standing with her plate and empty wine glass, she began to clean up her mess. "I hate to rush out on you again, but you have an early morning, and my body still doesn't know what time it is, so I'm finding myself tired."

Angela put her glass down, taking Maura's plate and shooing her away. "Don't worry, honey, I've got this. You go get some rest."

"Thank you. See you in the morning." Maura waited for the older woman's soft smile before leaving the room, walking up to her bedroom. Before changing, she sat on her bed and opened her phone, clicking on the familiar contact and typing out a quick message. Your Mom told me you arrived home safely. I hope things go well at Quantico. She placed her phone on the nightstand and changed into Jane's Red Sox shirt, climbing between the covers when done. Her phone chimed. Sorry I didn't let you know. I'm glad you're home safe. It was distant still, but it made Maura hopeful. Hopeful that they would again speak like they used to.

Maura was awoken early by a call to a crime scene. In a way, it was a relief that she wouldn't have to face Angela again in the morning. She also enjoyed the return to some sort of normalcy after a month away. The familiar hustle of a crime scene was oddly comforting. As she was let past the red tape, she took a cursory look as to what was inside. A woman, maybe thirty years of age, lying facedown on the living room floor, a large red puddle underneath her. About twenty feet away marked with a yellow placard, lay a handgun. Another young woman with dark hair cried in the corners near while talking to a uniformed officer. Nodding at them both, Maura knelt beside the victim. Brushing her dark hair aside, she saw bruising on the sides of her neck. Moving her shirt, she noticed the marks went down her back. Her heart fell as the story started to piece together.

"Detective Rizzoli." Someone said it in greeting, and Maura felt her breath hitch as she looked for the curly-haired woman. It shouldn't have surprised her to see Frankie instead, a redhead in plainclothes following right behind him. Pushing her disappointment to the side, Maura smiled and waved at the confidant man entering the crime scene.

"Maura! You're back!" He grinned, touching her shoulder as she remained crouched. "How was Paris?"

"Beautiful, as always." It was the answer she had rehearsed the whole way over, She stood, shedding her gloves and offering the man a hug. "How have things been here in Boston?"

"Business as usual." Turning, he waved his hand, urging the redhead closer. "Dr. Isles, this is my new partner, Detective Hyde."

She reached forward and grasped Maura's hand, her grip firm. "It's nice to meet you, Dr, Isles. Frank and Nina have told me all about you."

"Please, call me Maura. It's nice to meet you too, Detective Hyde."

The woman smiled, warmth shining through her bright blue eyes. "Linn. Short for Linnet."

Letting go of Linn's hand, Maura pulled out two new gloves from her pockets. "Pretty name, Welsh I believe?" The woman nodded, a knowing grin on her face. "It suits you." She bent down again, feeling the joints and examining the body. As she made her observations, she addressed the more senior detective. "Have you started wedding planning?"

Frankie chuckled at that, pulling out his phone. "Nina and her sisters have all that covered. They even made me a checklist, see?" He scrolled through an exhausting number of tasks to complete. "Nina wants to wait for Thanksgiving to go dress shopping. She wants to give Jane the chance to join."

"That's nice." Her answer was short. If Frankie realized, he didn't say anything or just thought she was busy with her observations.

"Don't tell her, but Nina wants her to be a bridesmaid."

For a moment, Maura pictured Jane standing next to Nina, a burgundy red dress hugging her curves, her hair in neat curls hanging by her shoulders. Maura had to fight to push the daydream away, reminding herself that she had a job to do. She looked up at Frankie, flashing him a reassuring look. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

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Work brought Maura a sense of relief. After a month off, she had a lot of managerial tasks and business to attend to, things Kent was not able to handle in his position. And it may have been wrong, but Maura began using work as a way to stay away from Angela. After a few days of dodging every question about Paris she asked, Maura found it was easier to work late on Angela's nights off or go to bed early when the older woman came home, citing an early day the next morning. This bought her a few more days avoiding questions. Now she only hoped that the interest would wear off.

After a week of being back, one day after work Maura fired up her fireplace and settled on the couch with a medical journal on her iPad and a cup of tea on the side table. Angela, who wasn't supposed to be home until late into the night, surprised her by plopping onto the couch next to her, holding out an envelope. "For you."

Her pseudo-mother looked serious, her face stoic, piquing the Doctor's interest. Inside she found two checks for nine-hundred dollars. She felt her eyebrows pull closer, and she studied the brunette sitting beside her. "Why are you giving me two months' worth of rent?"

"Ron's taking me on a road trip. I wanted to make sure you had next month's rent before I leave."

Shaking her head, Maura handed back one of the checks. "Angela, if you aren't going to be here, you don't need to pay."

"Nonsense." Angela was firm, placing the check back in Maura's lap. "Any other apartment would still charge me rent."

Maura held the check in her hand, her thumb spinning in circles at the top corner. Angela wanted to do this. She had almost left because she wanted to do this, to feel like she was self-sufficient. So swallowing her worry, Maura accepted the check, placing it back in the envelope with its twin. Looking back at the older woman, who was now beaming, Maura offered her a smile. "So, when do you leave?"

"In the morning. He won't tell me the destination, but he promised that we could spend time in DC so I could visit with Jane." If she noticed the stiffening of the Doctor at the mention of her best friend, she didn't say anything. "I actually can't chat for long, I have to finish packing." She gestured to the door behind her.

Nodding, Maura closed the cover of her iPad. "I should go to bed soon anyway. I have to drive to Worcester in the morning to interview candidates for Dr. Pike's position."

"You finally fired that guy?" Angela laughed, standing from the couch.

"Goodness, no. I can't stand him, but I had no reason to fire him." Maura stood, following her housemate to the door. "His wife got her dream job in Oklahoma, so they're moving."

"Well, I hope you find someone good."

"Me too." She opened the door. "Have a nice trip, Angela, I'll see you when you get back."

The woman surprised her again, wrapping her up in her arms, squeezing tight, her mouth right next to Maura's ear. "You know I love you, right?" At Maura's affirmative answer, her arms resting lightly around the woman's waist, she continued. "And you can talk to me about anything, even when I'm not here. Whenever you're ready."

At those words, Maura felt tears stinging in her eyes which she fought to keep from falling. Somehow she knew. This wasn't a surprise, but it helped to know that Angela didn't think any less of her. "I know. Thank you." Before pulling away, Angela pressed a kiss to Maura's cheek, the move maternal and completely natural to her. She offered a small smile before leaving through the door, allowing Maura to close it behind her.

Sitting on her bed, Maura sent another text. Your mother is leaving for a road trip tomorrow. She says she's going to visit you. As she changed into her own pajamas, Jane's shirt folded on top of her dresser, her phone chimed, alerting her to a response. Yeah. It will be nice to see a familiar face. Resting her head on her pillow, she typed, erased, and typed again until she figured out how to say best what she wanted to. I can always make time for a video chat if you need to see a familiar face. Satisfied, she sent it, putting her phone on her nightstand and rolling over, letting herself drift off to sleep.

The next morning she awoke, seeing a response from the previous night. I know, Maura. I'll keep that in mind.

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After another week of catching up, Maura's backed up work began to subside and she started seeing patients at MEND again. It was more work that she was grateful for, as it kept her out of her quiet apartment, and kept her mind occupied. More often, she was opting out of the nightly meet up at The Dirty Robber with the crew, and instead found herself examining increasingly difficult cases for the patients at MEND.

After a week of double duty, she was thrilled one day when they could wrap a case early and she could unwind at home. Saying goodbye to the Detectives, and forwarding her final report, she took a moment to enjoy the crisp air before making her way inside her home. Once inside, for the first time since returning from her trip, she found herself perusing her manuscript. Sitting at the island with a bottle of water, she refamiliarized herself with the story, and what she planned to do to improve it. Soon, Maura began to write, expanding her universe and trying to give her characters more depth.

It wasn't long before a knock at her front door interrupted her work. Maura glanced down at her phone, looking for a clue as to whom it could be. Closing the laptop, she went to answer the door. "Nina! What a lovely surprise." The Detective was still dressed for work, her badge hooked to her hip. She carried with her a pink box about the size of a shoebox. Moving aside, Maura allowed her friend to enter.

"Sorry for dropping by unannounced." She moved to lean against the island, depositing the box on the counter beside her. "I feel like I don't see you anymore."

With a guilty grimace, Maura clasped her hands in front of her. "I had a lot to catch up on after my trip. And MEND needs more help, especially with Hope overseeing the shortage of providers overseas, but when things calm down I'll…"

"Maura! It's okay, we understand." The younger woman's voice was forceful, stopping Maura's rambling. "I didn't mean to send you spiraling." She traced her fingers over the pink box. "I've just had this in my car for the last two weeks, waiting for the right time to give it to you."

Pointing, hesitant, Maura inched closer. "That's for me?"

Nina edged the box toward the Doctor. "Open it." Though confused, Maura closed the space between herself and the box and opened it. Pink tissue paper filled the empty space. Inside she found a small bottle of champagne, a silver necklace with a high-heeled shoe charm, and a glass candle jar, silver-grey lettering spelling out the word, 'bridesmaid'. Nina's smile was wide as Maura examined each item, unsure of what to say. The younger woman, thankfully, knew how to break the silence as Maura looked between her and the box. "So I'll take that as a yes?"

"Of course!" Maura leaned in at that moment, wrapping the shorter woman in her arms, delighted when she reciprocated. "I'm so honored you thought of me."

Pulling away, dark eyes met Maura's, their tone serious, but her face joyful. "Please, Maura. You welcomed me into your life with open arms. You made Boston feel like home." She giggled. "Plus, you're my karaoke buddy."

"Oh, I don't think I want to do that again. I'm not sure of the efficacy it had on my neural pathways."

Laughing, Nina pulled away from the counter, making Maura turn to face her. "You have to do it at least once!"

"I don't think I have to."

Nina pushed her lip out, pouting. "Not even for the bride?"

Maura hadn't been in a lot of weddings. In fact, she hadn't been in one. But she knew that historically, what the bride asked for, the bride got. With a shocked gasp, she cried out, "That's not fair!"

"I know!" Nina's laughter could only be described as maniacal, cackling as she walked toward the door. Maura moved with her, to see her out. Before Maura opened the door, Nina turned to look at her, face now serious, dark eyes kind. "You know, you need to maintain a healthy work/life balance. I understand needing to catch up, or fill in while Dr. Martin is away. But please, join us at the Dirty Robber at some point. We know that none of us are Jane, but we can still have fun."

Maura knew that her words intended to comfort her, but instead, they stung. Nina had seen through the charade. Hanging out with her friends meant acknowledging that things had changed. Maura didn't adapt well to change. With a reserved nod at the Detective, Maura opened the door to see her out. "I will try to make an appearance as soon as Hope is back in the states."

"I'd like that. Take care, Maura."

Maura waved before closing the door behind her friend. Checking the time, she took a moment to put the bottle of champagne away. Before leaving, she smelled the candle, an interesting mix of lavender and wild ginger, put her computer away, and attempted to push the image of both her and Jane standing up at the altar together out of her mind.

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It was a few days later during one of her rare days off that her birth mother's face flashed on her screen. "Hello?"

"Maura! How are you? How was your vacation?"

"I'm good. It was nice." Almost a month later, and the sting of the last few hours was still harsh. But it was easier to ignore as she thought back on happier memories. "How is Morocco?"

"Busy. I must admit, that is why I'm calling."

"Go on."

"Well, there's still a shortage of providers, and a nasty outbreak of influenza keeps us fully booked each day. It looks like I need to delay my trip home another two weeks."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Maura sat at her island, a notepad handy. "How can I help?"

"It's a bit of an odd request, I'm afraid." Maura could hear background noise decrease, as if Hope had stepped into an office. "Do you remember me mentioning opening another clinic in the United States in DC?" At Maura's hum of acknowledgment, she continued. "This great property just opened up. I planned to go see the site on Saturday when I returned. But now I'm stuck here, and I'm worried someone else will make an offer before I even get back to the States."

It took Maura a minute to register what she was asking. "So you want me to meet with the realtor?"

"Could you? Do you have the time? The only other person I trust is Cailin, and she's busy with class. I know you wouldn't steer me wrong. I can pay for your hotel, and get your ticket."

"I have miles. You don't need to buy my ticket."

Hope let out a sigh on the other end of the phone. "Maura, I can't thank you enough for doing this."

"It's no problem. I needed an excuse to go to DC anyway." Her mind drifted to Jane's t-shirt, still folded on top of her dresser.

"Thank you. I'll email you all the details, along with a list of questions to ask, feel free to ask your own if you think of any." Maura heard muffled voices in the background. "I need to go now, my next appointment is here."

"Okay. Stay safe, and I'll see you when you get home." When the call ended, Maura stopped what she was doing and went upstairs to pack. She wouldn't let a last-minute trip leave her unprepared. She planned on three days, pulling out outfits for each day. She grabbed her smaller suitcase, one suitable for the overhead bins, and placed it on the bed. The first thing she packed was Jane's Garciaparra shirt. It gave her a reason to visit, hopefully showing Jane that life was better off when they were on speaking terms.

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Her flight on Saturday left at eight in the morning, getting her in the Capital around 10. After waiting around for her rental car, she had only a few minutes to refresh in her hotel room before rushing out to meet the realtor.

The property was nice, a square building with plenty of parking surrounding it. Maura noticed several bus stops along the way that meant it would be accessible to people who relied on public transportation. She parked in a spot behind the two cars, figuring one was the realtor. The other car was idling. Upon exiting her vehicle, the voice she heard made her eyes go wide. "Ma, just get in the car! You can tell me all about the turtle or tortoise later!" Unable to believe what she was hearing, Maura walked in front of her vehicle to glance between the two that she was parked behind. Angela leaned against the white car, her eyes looking down at her phone. Jane, with her curls pulled back into a loose ponytail, stood at the door of the idling car, her hand on the handle.

"Angela? Jane? What are you guys doing here?" Maura could feel her eyebrows furrowing as she took in the sight before her.

Angela reacted fast, her mouth dropping open, as she moved to hug the Doctor. "Maura! What are you doing here?" She wrapped the blonde in a tight grip, her face now hidden from view. But Maura was more interested in Jane's reaction.

Jane watched her Mother, her eyes flickering with anger, her mouth slightly ajar. She thought something was up. But as she looked at Maura, her expression softened, anger was replaced with worry. She flashed a shy smile that made Maura's stomach flip. "Hi, Maur. Fancy meeting you here. In this random parking lot."

Maura stepped back, making Angela pull away. Gesturing toward the empty building, Maura addressed the older woman first. "Hope sent me here. She wants me to look at this office, and determine if it's a good spot for another MEND clinic." Turning to address Jane, she continued. "I was going to call you after my showing."

"You don't have to explain yourself."

"It's not an explanation, it's the truth." While others may have been surprised by Maura's blunt reply, Jane didn't blink, and answered with a nod. Encouraged by this, Maura continued. "My plane landed two hours ago. Hope called me just a few days ago. None of this was well planned, so I wanted to call you when I was settled."

The brunette nodded, shoulders relaxing. "I believe you. Sorry."

Next to her, Angela typed away at her phone, typing in an address to her phone's GPS. "Jane! Ron said he found a store with a new GPS. It's straight down this road, I can't miss it." She put her phone in her pocket and walked over to her daughter, wrapping her in a hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Jane pulled away from the contact, her face scrunched and her eyes narrowed as her mother made her escape. "I need to go get it, he said there's only one left and I don't want someone else to buy it first."

"Ma, I drove here to get you. You're just gonna leave me?" Jane held her hands open, waiting for an explanation.

"You're not alone! You have Maura!" She opened her door. "We can get dinner, and I can see your new apartment tomorrow."

Jane sighed, crossing her arms. "Okay. Drive safe, Ma."

As Angela began to pull out of the parking lot, a red SUV pulled in. Maura gestured to it. "That's probably my guy."

Jane hesitated for a moment as if deciding what to say. "Yeah. So you're busy. Maybe we can do something tomorrow." She reached for her handle again.

"Jane, wait." The last time Maura had said those words, Jane ran. This time, she stopped, turning once more to face the Doctor. "Why don't you come in with me. I can't see this taking long, and I would love to grab lunch after. You know the good places to eat around here."

"What makes you think that?" Her tone was hesitant, but she wore a faint smile on the corner of her lips. Maura longed to turn the faint smile into an overt one, even just for a moment.

"Please. It's been a month. Your fridge ratio is probably seventy-thirty take out containers to fresh food."

This made the Instructor laugh, and Maura could feel some of the tension between them release. "You still know me so well."

Maura laughed along with her, letting the tension clear and relishing in the sound. It had been too long. "Of course I do. We haven't changed." She hoped the message was clear. Nothing had to change.

Whether Jane found it comforting was unclear. The taller woman nodded, eyes downcast. "I guess we haven't." She reached for the car door again, this time opening it, leaning in, and turning the car off. She pocketed her keys and gave the Doctor a curt nod. With a wave of her arms, she gestured toward the building and the waiting man. "After you."

The man was shorter in stature, dark skin, and black hair, but he seemed friendly enough as they approached. "Dr. Isles?" At her nod, he continued, thrusting out his hand. "Dave Ganem, it's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. This is my friend, Jane. She's going to join us for the viewing. Do you mind if I record this? It will make things easier when I have to send my recommendations to my M… To Dr. Martin." She wondered if he caught the label she almost dropped, one she still wasn't sure how she felt about Hope using. A glance in Jane's direction told her she had caught on, her eyes soft with a dimpled grin. It made Maura's stomach flip again, and she tried to remember if she'd had this reaction every time Jane had given her that same look.

Mr. Ganem's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Of course not. Feel free to take videos and photographs, too." Pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked the doors and led them inside. "Let's get started."

The building must have been used once already for medical purposes. There were fifteen dedicated exam rooms, a few rooms large enough for some imaging equipment, and three dedicated office spaces. Maura discovered that they were a twenty-minute drive away from a hospital, that the previous owners had decided to retire, and that the area received a lot of foot traffic. She had Jane and Mr. Ganem have a conversation in one exam room while trying to listen from the other room, noting that she could not make it out. Considering how loud she knew her friend could be, this was a pro in her mind. Aside from the electrical issue with the fan in the bathroom, all the building needed was a fresh coat of paint.

"Thank you, Mr. Ganem. I will have Dr. Martin review all of this, but I'm sure she'll be in touch." She shook his hand and offered him a warm smile.

"I look forward to it. It was so nice to meet you both." While shaking hands with Jane, he gave her a knowing look. "The Yankees are going all the way this year."

Jane chuckled, and Maura imagined she squeezed his hand a little harder. "In your dreams, pal."

They both laughed as they pulled away from each other, Jane's head shaking as she turned to walk toward their cars. Her hand fell to the small of Maura's back as they walked, the touch sending shivers up Maura's spine. She longed to lean back into it, to reciprocate somehow, but words started flashing in her head. I hope you can forget this someday. Afraid to scare Jane as she was becoming more comfortable, Maura opted to continue as if she hadn't noticed. "Of course you two discussed sports."

"Well, you put me in a room with a guy I don't know and ask me to talk to him about something. What did you expect?"

"I guess you have a point." Maura giggled, shaking her head. As they walked, her stomach let out an audible growl. "I haven't eaten since I had that Danish at Logan."

Stopping at her car, Jane dropped her hand from Maura's back and started playing with her keys in her other hand. "Okay. We're right down the road from Black Market." Maura couldn't help but imagine a dark alley with people selling food dressed in trenchcoats. Jane must have registered the puzzled expression because she clarified with a snort. "It's a bar, Maur. It reminds me of home."

"Oh! That makes sense. Okay, I'll follow you."

They parked next to each other at the bar. Maura took a moment to shoot Hope a text, saying to jump on the place, and that more info would come later. Jane waited by the car until she was done, and then led the way up the walkway and into the building.

Maura understood why Black Market reminded Jane of home. The set up was very similar to the Dirty Robber. The lighting was dim, booths were set up along the windows, the bar itself was long. Instead of nautical decorations, the ones here seemed to be focused on police and FBI memorabilia. Jane picked the seat that would have been their booth back home. As Maura looked over the menu, Jane ordered their drinks. "It's a nice place."

"It's far enough away from campus that I don't usually see recruits here."

"It's more than that." She put down the menu, having decided what to eat, and took the opportunity to look Jane in the eye. "It's familiar. I mean, you chose our spot."

Jane's mouth perked up on one side at that comment. "You noticed."

"How could I miss it?" It seemed like Jane wasn't sure what to say, as she played with the napkin that wrapped up her silverware. So Maura decided to pull the conversation along. "How is Quantico?"

"I like it a lot more than I thought I would." They paused to order food, and for Maura to butter up a bread roll to calm her growling stomach. "Right now I'm mostly observing. Which I'm thankful for, considering I've never taught, but a few instructors have allowed me to teach some modules, and it's amazing."

"You have taught. You taught Frankie everything he knows."

Jane snorted, grabbing a roll and taking a bite before answering. "I taught Frankie a lot. But he was a group effort. How is he doing?"

"He seems to be doing well. His new partner, Hyde, is different."

"Different how?" Jane leaned forward with anticipation.

"She's soft. Her face is soft, her demeanor is warm, she's even soft-spoken." Thinking back to the squad room a few months ago, Linnet Hyde varied in every possible way from the people who had left. "It's not bad per se, but it is amusing to watch her try to play mean cop while Frankie is being nice cop."

"You mean good cop/bad cop?"

With a scoff, Maura took the correction. "Yes. You know what I mean." They continued their conversations through their meal, both skirting around any mention of Paris with apparent ease. Jane reminded Maura to work less and connect with people, showing that she had been in touch with people from back home, and they had talked about her. Maura asked about her new workout routine now that she wasn't chasing down criminals. And Jane filled her in on the few new friends she was making, some instructors and a neighbor. Jane picked up the tab, despite Maura's protestations, and they remained seated, neither ready to leave. "I've missed this." Maura began carefully, testing things out, wondering if Jane was ready for a bigger conversation. "Talking to you, I mean."

"Yeah." Jane's eyes went downward again, the Instructor avoiding the Doctor's gaze. "I think this is the longest we've gone without speaking."

"I think you're right." Their fight after the Doyle shooting had only lasted about ten days and had been agonizing. Things had been said on both sides then, things said in anger, that both were too stubborn to apologize for. Now things needed to be said. Watching as Jane played with the condensation on the outside of her cup, her refusal to meet Maura's eye, Maura backed off. "Let's not let it get like this again." She reached for her friend's hand, making her look up, and Maura flashed her a smile meant to reassure. "Can we agree to at least weekly Skype calls?"

Jane squeezed her hand back, making her stomach flip for the third time that day. "I think I can fit you into my schedule."

Walking back to their cars, Maura prepared herself to say goodbye. But a glimpse at Jane's Red Sox keychain reminded her of the Garciaparra shirt in her bag. "I have something that belongs to you!" She blurted, making Jane's eyes grow wide with amusement. "It's at my hotel."

Glancing at her watch, Jane played with her keys in her hand. "I have time. I'll follow you."

The ride to the hotel took longer, with it situated just outside the city. And Jane parked further away, so Maura had to wait at the door. She didn't seem like she was in a rush, typing on her phone as she walked. As she slipped her phone in her pocket, she followed Maura through the lobby and into the elevator. She was close, as close as they had been leaving the medical office, but this time her hand wasn't in the small of Maura's back. The Doctor began to wonder if it was normal to crave that contact.

Her hotel room was on the fourth floor, two doors down from the elevator, a real convenient spot. She opened the door with her room key and held the door open, inviting Jane in. "It's still in my bag. I think it got mixed in with my laundry in Paris." She began digging through her bag, knowing it was underneath the rest of her belongings. "I was going to return it at Thanksgiving. But this trip presented me with a different option." Grasping the cotton shirt, She turned with a triumphant grin to had it to the waiting Instructor.

Jane's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped as she unfolded it and looked at the number on the back. "Nomah!"

"I don't think that's english."

Jane laughed, a grateful smile gracing her lips as she ran her fingers over the shirt. "No, it's Nomar. His first name, but you have to say it with your most obnoxious Boston accent. It's like a rule or something." Placing the shirt down on the table, she faced Maura and met her eyes, her smile soft and warm. "I've been looking for that shirt. Thank you, Maur." And then Jane pulled her into a hug.

Long arms wrapped around her, and Maura swore she stopped breathing. Jane's hair tickled the side of her face, and Maura had to stop picturing what it would be like to run her fingers through Jane's wild mane. The scent of lavender and honeysuckle brought a sense of warmth that she wasn't anticipating. And yet all she could think of were those words. I hope you can forget this someday. So instead of reciprocating, Maura stiffened.

Jane realized it after about four seconds, backing away, her head down. "Um. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." She allowed Maura to back up, Which she did until her calves met the back of an armchair. Sitting, she took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, wondering when her cheeks had become wet. Jane looked at her when she heard the noise. Maura was nervous she'd run again, or that the progress they'd made earlier would be negated. Instead, Jane sighed, sitting at the foot of the bed. "Maura, I'm sorry. Please don't cry."

She didn't stop. Though she found it ironic that the one person who truly helped her feel better when she cried, was now the cause of it. Taking steadying breaths, she allowed herself to ask the question that had been plaguing her for a month. "What did you want me to forget?"

Brown eyes grew wide with recognition, the grimace in her face and the way she shrunk indicating that she was ashamed. "I didn't mean…"

"I mean, I've been saying those words over and over in my head all month trying to figure it out. Because I don't want to forget Paris. We had so much fun, and did so much laughing, and I felt like our relationship grew in response. And I can't forget you, Jane. You're in most of my happiest memories, you've been there during the worst parts of my life, and you're a person I picture still being around in my future. The thought of forgetting you is unbearable, Jane." That particular interpretation of the note was her biggest fear, the one her mind liked to tell her was most likely.

"I don't want that." Jane's voice sounded small, without it's usual gravitas, but she straightened her shoulders as she spoke. It showed some confidence in her words.

"Well, we went almost a month without communication, you can't blame me for thinking that."

"I know. But that's not what I meant." She looked away, her hands folded on her knees. Taking a deep breath in, and letting it out, she continued. "I wanted you to forget the kiss." The kiss. Maura didn't think she ever would. The lamplight that lit up her face in such a beautiful way, the river lapping in the background, the way they fit together perfectly, the feel of Jane's hands on her hips, how she felt like she was on fire, how suddenly everything made sense. Every moment of that kiss she wanted to remember forever. Jane's voice in the room pulled her back to the present. "I wanted you to forget being ashamed."

This made Maura's eyebrows knot together, her gaze focusing on the profile of Jane's face. "What makes you think I was ashamed?"

Jane's eyes rolled as she met Maura's gaze. "I'm a cop, Maura, I know what shame looks like. You looked down and away from me. You covered part of your face. You were ashamed."

Maura thought back to that night, remembering the immediate aftermath, the disappointed anguish flashing in Jane's eyes. "I wasn't ashamed of you." She met Jane's gaze for those words, hopeful that she would believe them. "I was ashamed of myself."

"Why in the world would you be ashamed of yourself?"

"For a number of reasons. First and foremost, you were romantically linked to someone else."

This made Jane scoff. "You were ashamed because of Davies?" Maura chuckled as she nodded, letting go of the tension in her body. "Let me clear that up for you. Davies texted me once before we left, and then I accidentally ignored him for a month. Toward the end of that month, I realized it wasn't gonna work between the two of us. Which only became more obvious once I locked lips with you."

Maura's stomach twisted in knots. "I didn't want to be the cause of that."

"It would have happened whether we kissed or not. I would have had the same problems with him that I had with Casey. Or Dean."

"Gabriel." Maura had to laugh as Jane cringed. The brunette joined in the laughter, and Maura could feel the unease begin to lift from the air between them. "Can I admit something to you?"

"At this point, I think you can tell me anything." She sat straighter on the edge of the bed, turning to face the blonde, giving her full attention.

Now it was Maura's turn to look away, afraid of how her words would be received. "It was a few months ago that I realized that my feelings for you went deeper than a normal friendship. Paris was harder on me than I thought it would be. Everything we did was so domestic, and it made me start thinking of how things could be all the time." She looked up briefly, finding the Instructor still looking at her, her eyes filled with adoration. Finding it too much, Maura looked away again. "I also realized a few months ago that if I acted on my feelings it would change everything. So that night, when I kissed you, I was ashamed at myself, for going back on my promise, and for working against my own self interests. I didn't want to change anything." She looked up to see Jane biting back her lips, like she was holding something in. Maura offered a shy smile, and began running her finger over the pattern on the armchair. She could hear her heart beating in her ears.

"So I guess it's my turn." The brunette was abrupt, crossing her legs and leaning forward. "At some point in Paris, I realized that things weren't going to work out between between me and Davies because I was falling for you." As Jane spoke, Maura looked at her, her peripheral vision going blank as she focused. "Like, really falling, Maura. I kept getting jealous of the husband you don't have." It was the laughter sob that revealed to Maura that she was crying again as she listened to her best friend speak, and she delighted in the smile that graced the brunette's face. "So when we kissed, I thought things between us were changing, and then when I saw your face, I was upset. And I reacted badly to that. It wasn't fair to you, and I'm sorry for that."

Maura nodded accepting the apology and taking it all in. After a long pause between the two of them, Maura asked the question at the forefront of her mind. "Do you still want things to change between us?"

Brown eyes blinked in disbelief. "Are you being serious?" At Maura's nod, a huge dimpled grin stretched wide across her face. "Yeah, I want things to change. Do you?"

Maura felt her breath hitch. "I would be amenable to that."

It wasn't even all the way out of her mouth before Jane was moving, closing the space between them. She cupped Maura's face in her hands and brought their lips crashing together, her fingers coming up to wipe tears from Maura's face. It was a move laced with such adoration and intimacy that Maura almost added more to her cheeks. Jane moved from her lips, peppering kisses down her jaw and along her cheek. She stopped briefly to whisper in Maura's ear, sending shivers down her spine. "All these years, and I still can't get a simple yes or no?"

Her hands on Jane's waist, she pulled down so she was sitting on her lap. "Yes." She husked into Jane's ear before peppering kisses down into her neck. She used her hands to pull out Jane's ponytail, finally allowing herself to run her fingers through her dark hair. Jane took advantage of her new position to run her fingers over Maura's back. Maura imagined this was what it felt like for every neuron in her body to fire at once. There wasn't an inch of her that wasn't electrified by Jane's touch, buy the brush of Jane's lips, by the sounds she was making as she gave in to her inhibitions.

Maura was upset she had to stop them, saying Jane's name a few times with some force. "I hate to bring this up right now of all times, but aren't you supposed to meet your mother for dinner?"

Jane chuckled, her grin seductive. "I rescheduled in the parking lot. Told her we were catching up." Her hands slid under Maura's blouse, touching bare skin and sending a new wave of pleasure through her body. "I did not tell her that we were catching up on eight years of missed opportunity."

"That's probably wise." Maura chuckled, launching back at Jane's lips.

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Maura woke to a languid kiss, a hand caressing her bare hip. Reaching for her lover, she was disappointed to find her clothed. "Where are you off to?"

"Breakfast with my Mother and Ron. And I have to bring her by the apartment."

Maura sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. "Give me a minute, I can get dressed."

But Jane sat on the bed, taking her hands and drawing all Maura's attention to her. "Not this time, Maura." She must have seen the hurt that she tried to hide, because a hand came up to her cheek, running down it in a soothing motion. "Not that I'm ashamed. I'm not. I just wanna keep this between us for a bit. It's special."

"It is." Maura agreed, yawning. "But I can keep it a secret."

Jane smiled, that big dopey smile that made Maura's heart melt. "It's not you I'm worried about. It's me." She leaned in, landing another slow yet hungry kiss. She pulled away, biting her lip. "I'm not sure I can keep my hands off you."

"That could be revealing." Maura laughed, the sound breathy as she allowed herself to wake, adjusting to her new reality. She pulled Jane in again, reveling in the pull in her gut as their lips met, Jane's moan setting her aflame. But she soon pulled away, muttering apologies, her hand lingering on Maura's face longer than necessary.

"I'll text you when I'm done. You can come over, we can order takeout, it will be like old times."

Maura grinned. "No. It'll be better."

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"Jane, is Thanksgiving really the best day to make this announcement?" They were lying in Maura's bed, naked, Jane typing away at her phone, seemingly oblivious to Maura's gaze.

"Thanksgiving is the day that we tell people what we're thankful for. What better day is there to say that I am thankful for my brilliant and incredibly gorgeous girlfriend?" She looked over then, her grin dimpled as she studied Maura's face.

"And you want to do it like this? A Facebook post to reveal the secret we've been keeping for the last five weeks?"

She thought about it for a moment, searching Maura's face like she was gauging her reaction. "I figured why not? Just rip off the Band-aid."

Looking her girlfriend over, she pulled away the covers, searching for something that had been unseen. "What Band-aid? Jane, what did you do?"

Instead of the answer she was looking for, the body in front of her began to shake with laughter. "Babe, it's an expression. I don't have a Band-aid." Maura couldn't help but laugh along with her, climbing back up to cuddle beside her. "It means that I think we should get it all done at once, instead of telling people sporadically."

"Oh." Her hands traced circles in Jane's toned stomach, her head rested on her shoulder.

"Is that okay with you?"

Maura went through the people in her life that needed to know. Most of them were connected to Jane in some way or another. The only ones who weren't were her parents. Her Mother was in Italy, working with someone on her next installation, and her Father was back in Africa, doing research on more indigenous tribes. It wasn't fair to put off the announcement so she could tell them in person. Grabbing her phone, She nodded. "Yes. As long as it's what you want."

Jane grinned, hitting the button to change their status, and Maura accepted the notification on her end. Jane took that time to change her profile picture. Maura had never seen it. The picture they took on the bridge, with Jane looking at the camera, but Maura looking adoringly at her face. "You were right, the lighting and everything that night made for a gorgeous photo."

"That wasn't the only reason I thought it would be gorgeous." Jane shot back, flashing that lopsided grin.

Their phones buzzed, the first comment from Frankie. Fucking finally! They shared a laugh at that, Jane shooting back with, Language, Francesco!

Dropping her phone on the nightstand, Jane rolled over, pulling the Doctor closer. Pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, she grinned. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving." Maura relished this, just being together. It was a long weekend, which meant Jane could visit longer, but she would still have her job to return to Monday morning. Maura was finding herself growing tired of the back and forth, but was hopeful that their plan would be put into action soon. With just a few loose ends to tie up today, she hoped the day when they could lie together like this every morning would come soon.

It wasn't long before their bliss was interrupted. She heard the door slam downstairs, Angela's hurried footsteps pounding on the floor. She stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Girls! Get down here, you have some explaining to do!"

Beside her, Jane giggled. "That took longer than I expected." She pulled herself from Maura's grip, rummaging in the suitcase she hadn't unpacked. While Maura found a pair of sensible silk pajamas to put on, Jane yanked on an FBI t-shirt and a pair of BPD sweatpants. Maura couldn't help but laugh at the pair of them. Yin and Yang, different as could be, but so perfect together. "You ready to face the music?"

She went up on her toes to press a kiss to the brunette's lips. "We can get through this."

"And if it gets bad, we have wine." This made them both laugh, holding hands as Jane turned toward the door.

It was then that Maura noticed the three words on the back of the shirt, the one purchased at the airport months ago. Female Boob Inspector. "Jane!" She hissed. "You can't wear that shirt downstairs!"

With a devilish grin, Jane shrugged her shoulders. "Well, it's kinda true now." Without waiting for a response, the brunette opened the door and rushed down the hall, shouting, "coming, Ma!"

Maura was definitely going to need wine.

#Rizzles #rizzles fanfic #not a couple #my fic #rizzoli and isles

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imjustthemechanic · 3 years

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The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome

Captain America’s return is big news, which meant that it will not be a surprise to Daniel.

Takeoff the next morning was delayed a little longer, as Howard said he needed to go see a man about some dogs. This turned out not to be a euphemism – he had purchased a team of sled dogs to send to Resolute and replace the ones the army had shot. That was fine with Peggy, because it gave her a moment to figure out what she was going to do next.

When they got to Los Angeles, the SSR would doubtless be there to meet them. Daniel was probably frantic, both because he was about to meet Steve in flesh and because he doubtless wanted to know how that would relate to his future with Peggy. Masters would probably have doctors lined up to give Steve another physical, since he would want to extract as much information as he could from the living man. That would give Peggy a moment to take Daniel aside, tell him an abbreviated version of the story, and perhaps give him some reassurance that she wasn’t going to run off with Steve.

Not immediately, anyway.

The problem was deciding exactly what she was going to say. As the plane roared through the sky, she was happy to let Steve, Howard, and Jason play cards with Kay, while she took some time to think. She would need to let Daniel know what Kay had told them… that she was a Soviet defector from the future. She would need to let him know that whether that was true or just an excuse, the woman did seem to know what she was talking about. And she would have to explain the proposed next step.

Peggy had enough faith in Daniel to be sure that he would want to do the right thing, even if he were worried about what Steve’s return might mean. He wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. Neither was Steve, thank heavens. She could count on both of them.

That would only last so long, however. Kay’s quest would be a distraction for a while, but eventually Peggy would have to make a decision about her own future.

“Okay, show me your cards,” said Steve in an accusing voice.

Peggy looked up to see Kay beam as she turned her hand around to display all four queens. She hadn’t been paying much attention to the game, but Peggy was pretty sure the woman had an entire extra deck secreted about her person.

“You’ve been cheating this whole time!” Steve said, reaching for the pile of cigarettes they’d been using as chips. Kay snatched them away.

“She has?” asked Jason. He and Howard were both trying to play through their hangovers, and neither had noticed.

“Is this all part of your master plan to make us trust you?” Peggy asked.

Kay’s only reply was to take one boot off and pull four more queens out of it. The men groaned and tossed their cards on the floor as she laughed at them.

“You shouldn’t smoke anyway,” said Kay, tucking the cigarettes into her coat. “It’s bad for you.”

Steve, who had been prescribed tobacco for his asthma as a teenager, looked at her suspiciously. “Is it really?”

“Gives you cancer,” said Kay. “That is bona fide knowledge from the future that you will all thank me for someday.”

Everybody got rid of their coats and boots as the plane came in for a landing in Los Angeles. They’d been able to wash and change their clothing at the hotel in Nome, but Peggy was still looking very much forward to a long, hot bath. She would talk to Daniel first, of course, but by tomorrow Steve’s return would be in all the papers and the press might want to talk to her. Now that she’d healed from Kay’s spray attack, she had no intention of facing them without makeup on.

Unfortunately, that choice was very much made for her. As the army’s plane taxied towards its hangar, Peggy looked out the window to see there was a crowd gathered. The hangar was decked out in red, white, and blue bunting, and expensive cars were pulled up. When they came to a stop and the back of the plane opened to let them out, somebody was there to unroll an actual red carpet for the passengers to walk along.

Masters straightened his tie before heading down the ramp to address the crowd with a smile on his face.

“Governor Warren, Mayor Bowron, ladies and gentlemen of the press,” he began. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and I am here to tell you that those rumors are…”

Peggy could almost hear the collective breath being held as Masters held the pause for dramatic effect.

“… absolutely true!” He beamed. “Captain America is alive and well!”

Steve knew that was his cue. He sighed and heaved himself out of his seat. “You’d think being dead would earn you some vacation time,” he muttered, but went to stand next to Masters and wave to the ground. Flash bulbs popped and a brass band began playing America the Beautiful. Howard, never one to miss out on the spotlight, hurried up to stand on Steve’s other side and join in as the Mayor of Los Angeles and the Governor of California, with their wives, came up to be introduced. Right behind them was a figure in a tan suit, leaning on a crutch… Daniel. Peggy closed her eyes and wondered what he must be thinking right now.

“I can make it look like an accident,” Kay offered.

“No, thank you,” sighed Peggy. “If anybody’s going to kill Vernon Masters I prefer to do it myself.”

“I’m not joking,” Kay told her.

“I’m not entirely sure I am,” Peggy replied.

One of the soldiers came running up to hand Steve his shield – they’d ruined his uniform cutting it off him in preparation for the autopsy, but the shield they’d saved – and Steve held it up to wild applause. The politicians led him to a red convertible that was waiting, also hung with patriotic fabric and with a flag flying from the back, and police vehicles gathered around for an escort.

“Are they going to have an actual parade?” Jason asked, watching this motorcade drive off. The brass band was climbing into a bus to follow.

“Looks that way,” said Peggy.

“Car accident?” Kay suggested. “Heart attack? I’ve got several things that can induce a heart attack. Fall down the stairs?”

“I’ll think about it,” Peggy said.

The crowd began to disperse, the flash bulbs stopped, and the soldiers who’d accompanied them started to troop off the plane. Peggy took this to mean that she and the other plebes could leave as well, and grabbed her things to head down to the tarmac with Kay and Jason. By this time, somebody had already come to take the red carpet away.

Among the few people who stayed behind was the contingent from the SSR. Daniel was waiting there nervously, and did not approach as Peggy walked down the ramp. Something pulled in side her heart. She knew that if Steve had come back as a corpse, Daniel would have been right there to hold her and help her to deal with it. Steve coming back alive was something he was no more prepared for than she had been.

“Hello, Daniel,” she said.

“Hi, Peggy,” he replied.

Plainly he was not going to take the initiative, so it was Peggy who went up and put her arms around him. “That was horrid,” she said.

“Yeah.” He hugged her back… and was it her imagination, or was it a little tighter than usual, as if he were afraid of her vanishing? “I guess you probably need to go and…”

“And what? Join the parade?” Peggy stepped back. “Look at me, Daniel, I’m hardly fit to be seen in public. All I want right now is a cup of tea and a good night’s sleep, but I need to tell you what happened up there.”

Daniel nodded. “Masters intercepted Dr. Wilkes’ request for backup from Stark Industries,” he said. “And…”

“No, no,” Peggy told him. “There’s ever so much more to it than that.” She looked over her shoulder, and found somewhat to her surprise that Kay was still there. It didn’t seem beyond her to vanish into the first crowd she found and never be seen again. “I don’t think you two were properly introduced…”

Kay came up and offered a hand. “Chief Sousa,” she said.

“This is Katerina Lachkova, Katherine Lake,” Peggy said, having decided for now to keep Kay’s real name to herself. She had no proof that Natalia Romanova was less of a pseudonym than any other this woman had used. Katerina Lachkova would get the point across. “She claims to be a Soviet defector, and has more information for us than just Steve’s location.”

Unsurprisingly, Daniel looked skeptical.

“I know,” said Kay. “I wouldn’t trust me. I cheat at cards.”

“She does, but I cannot deny that at least one thing she’s told us is entirely true,” Peggy sighed.

Daniel pressed his lips together for a moment. “Okay. You ladies go get cleaned up, and we’ll talk.”

He squeezed Peggy’s shoulders and then stepped back to let the women get in one of the cars. Peggy felt as if something inside her were being torn to pieces. He was trying to look like it wasn’t affecting him, but he desperately needed to be reassured. What reassurance could she give him when she didn’t know, herself?

Peggy didn’t know if it were a good idea or not, but she pressed a quick kiss to Daniel’s cheek before getting in the car. Kay got in and sat down next to her, feeling around on the seat beside her for a moment before sitting back and scowling.

“What are you looking for?” Peggy asked her.

“Nothing,” said Kay. “Force of habit.”

Daniel went in a different car. Peggy watched him get in, then looked away from the window as their own vehicle started to move.

“Sorry,” Kay said.

“Hardly your fault,” Peggy assured her.

“Actually, yes, it is,” said Kay. “Like I told you, if I weren’t here, nobody would have found Steve until 2012. You’d have been married to Daniel until 1955, when he was shot by an undercover HYDRA operative.”

Peggy blinked, and then covered her mouth in horror at the mental image. “So… if we aren’t married, will he not…”

“I have no idea. I doubt it would have made a difference,” said Kay. “Anyway, if I manage to get my to-do list done, that will never happen anyway.” She sighed. “But I’m sorry for putting you in this situation. I’m not very good at having emotions, but I’m good at reading them. I figured you’d be happy to see… Captain Rogers, because I knew he always wished you two had gotten your happy ending. I didn’t stop to think about you making your own happy ending after he was gone. Now I’ve ruined it.”

Peggy didn’t know how to reply to that. If she’d gone into this knowing everything Kay had just told her, would she have done anything differently? No… no, she would not, because there were so many ways in which this was not about Peggy. Steve deserved to live. Sergeant Barnes deserved to be rescued. Howard deserved to feel like he’d brought some good into the world. Peggy’s personal problems were nothing next to that.

“I suppose I’ll just have to figure it out all over again,” said Peggy.

“I can’t even tell you what should happen, because I’m flying blind from here,” Kay admitted. “Free will, isn’t it great?”

“Are you so very sure that changing the future is a good idea?” Peggy asked her. “Isn’t there always the possibility you might make things worse?”

“Too late to worry about it now,” said Kay. “I can’t skip ahead and check and then come back and tweak it. I’m just here… making it up as I go along.” She offered Peggy a weak smile. “Just like everybody else.”

“Well, you do have a few…” Peggy tried to find a better metaphor, but was forced to fall back on the unfortunately obvious. “A few more cards up your sleeve, let’s say, than a normal person.”

“Don’t worry,” Kay replied. “I’m going to play every single one of them.”

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy #fix it fic

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

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Fic: Forged Through Fire (13/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

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Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [Twelve] [AO3]

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Forged Through Fire

Epilogue

“Have you noticed that everything seems so much lighter after you leave the city?”

Roy looked out of the window in the same direction as Riza, looking at the sun shining brightly over the green hills as the train sped out of Eastern City along the branch line, stopping at all the small country towns on the way. They’d left Central in the early hours of the morning whilst it was still dark, and it was still a while to go before they reached Resembool.

Riza yawned, but she couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes and try to sleep, not when the countryside was looking so beautiful. She couldn’t believe that in all her life, she’d never been this far out of the metropolis. It was like a whole other world out here, a place where she could almost imagine that the horrors of the Amestrian regime had never existed.

Things still weren’t good yet. There was a long way to go before the damage from Bradley’s Fuhrership would be rectified, but at least the country was slowly making its way towards a democracy again. General Grumman, drafted in to pick up the pieces in the wake of Bradley’s death, seemed to be a reasonable man, but then again, when one’s definition of ‘reasonable’ was as broad as ‘not completely insane’, the bar was set pretty low. At least Grumman didn’t appear to be obsessed with making himself immortal. Well, not yet, and Roy was close enough to him to hopefully be able to spot the warning signs.

Still, in the last year and a half since the regime had been unceremoniously decapitated in very dramatic fashion, things had been moving steadily in the right direction. The draconian laws were being repealed little by little. Madam Christmas was no longer operating out of the back of a bookshop and whilst the regulations on alchemy use were still tight, Riza no longer lived in fear of being shot for her tattoo.

All in all, she had hope for the future now, not just hope for the country but hope for her own future as well, and that was something that so many people had lost over the past couple of decades.

She glanced over at Roy across the train carriage from her, staring out of the window still and completely oblivious to her looking at him. Their relationship was moving steadily in the right direction as well, and every version of the future that Riza was hoping for included him in some shape or form.

In a way she was glad that she had not followed him into the military now, as much as she had wanted to at the time. The anti-fraternisation regulations weren’t one of the things that would be going away in a hurry and they would have made things very difficult. She wondered if Roy was thinking the same thing about where their relationship was going; if he too couldn’t imagine a future without her in it. They had spoken about the nebulous future so many times over the last few months, always optimistic and full of fire, always full of grand plans about what would happen next, but for some reason, the next stage of their own lives together had never really come up.

Presently, Roy caught her eye looking at him, and he smiled.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“I was wondering how difficult it’ll be to find Hohenheim and Trisha once we get there. She said it’s a small community that protects their own; I’m a little concerned that we’ll be run out of town if we say we’re looking for them.” He paused. “And I was thinking about you, too.”

The rest of the journey continued in silence, the same easy silence that they had always shared since they had first met in the Hawkeye house all those years ago, and eventually Riza drifted off into a doze as the early start caught up with her, only waking to Roy’s gentle shake of her shoulder and soft kiss on her cheek.

“Come on, we’re here.”

Resembool was a small town, and at first glance it appeared that sheep outnumbered people six to one, but Roy’s fears of being hounded back onto the first outbound train were quelled when the locals seemed happy enough to direct them towards Trisha. She and Hohenheim had made their home on the very outskirts of the town, a small white house on the top of a hill overlooking the rest of Resembool.

“I’m beginning to see why people were happy to let us have directions,” Roy said as they made their way up the hill, which was deceptively steep. “I think anyone wanting to kidnap Hohenheim again would definitely think twice if they had to tackle this hill.”

Riza just laughed, but by the time they reached the hand-painted wooden sign reading Elric Herbal Dispensary at the gate, she too needed to get her breath back. From this angle she could see the massive glasshouse that took up most of the yard space, and she spied Trisha coming out carrying armfuls of herbs.

“Well, this is an unexpected surprise.” She put down the plants and came over to open the gate for them; Riza could smell the aloe vera and tea tree on her. “Come on in; you’ll need something to fortify you after the walk up the hill.”

They followed her up the path as she ran on ahead, leaning in through the open window. “We’ve got visitors!”

A minute or so later, the front door opened, revealing Hohenheim with a toddler who could only be described as a mini-Hohenheim on his hip. The child had his golden eyes and hair, and as he regarded Riza and Roy with the scrutiny only a nearly-one-year-old could give, Riza could definitely see the beginnings of the death glare as well.

Hohenheim smiled. “Hello Roy, Riza. This is an unexpected surprise.”

“It’s good to see you. This must be Edward.” Roy braved the boy’s scrutiny, solemnly holding out a hand to him. Edward just continued to stare dubiously, as if he’d been offered a poisonous snake.

“Yes.” Trisha came over and tickled her son, immediately breaking the tension as he burst into giggles. “And you two might as well be the first to know that his brother or sister is on the way as well.” She patted her stomach, still flat to the unedified observer. “Come on in. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen anyone from the city; you’ll have to give us all the news.”

They entered the house and Trisha set about making tea, Edward returning to the far more important task of building block towers.

“So, it seems you’ve been busy since you’ve been here,” Roy began. Hohenheim and Trisha looked at each other and then down at Trisha’s belly, and Roy gave a squawk of alarm.

“That’s not what I meant! I was talking about the greenhouse!” He looked across at Riza for help, and she shook her head.

“You got yourself into that hole, you can get yourself out.”

Trisha laughed and took pity on him. “Yes, it was quite easy to get set up in the end. My family was always in the traditional medicine line before I went to the city, so the Elric name is trusted in these parts. It’s been good to get back into it with more space than a broom closet. As for Van, everyone knows he’s an alchemist and he gets requests for help with fixing things sometimes, but since our closest neighbours are proper doctors and we don’t get all that many stabbings and less than legal activities in Resembool, he’s been enjoying being a house-husband. I never knew he could bake.”

“According to your summation of the carrot cake yesterday, I still can’t,” Hohenheim said.

“Well, some of your attempts come out better than others. I think it’s the fact you try to apply science to it all.”

Riza watched the interplay between the two of them fondly. It was good to see them happy and safe after everything that had happened, and the amount of adversity that they had overcome and still been able to settle down into a normal family life gave her fresh hope for her and Roy. Riza would be the first to admit that her life thus far had not been at all normal in any sense of the word, but she knew that she had the chance to find that normality.

The talk soon turned to their friends in Central and how everyone was getting on. Fuery and Breda were still working tirelessly with Roy. Falman had been sent on secondment to Briggs fortress for six months and had come home with a Drachman fiancée as well as the vodka shipment. Hughes wouldn’t stop talking about new-born Elysia for more than five minutes straight, during which he was talking about Gracia instead. Havoc and Rebecca seemed to be going strong, and Madam Christmas’s business was flourishing even more now that it was out in the open.

Eventually, Roy started to talk about alchemy and the new licensing plans with Hohenheim, and Riza found herself following Trisha back out to the greenhouse to retrieve the dropped plants from earlier. They were gathering up bundles of tea tree together when Trisha asked the question.

“What’s eating you, Riza? You’ve been very quiet all afternoon.”

Riza sighed. “I don’t know. I guess… How did you know that Hohenheim was the one? How did you know that he was your future and you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him?”

“Hmm.” Trisha sat down on the little bench outside the greenhouse, sorting the bundles in her lap, and Riza perched next to her. “I think, in a way, it was more that he knew. Van’s lived a long time and he’s met so many people, but he’s always said that I was the first person he ever wanted to share his story with. It wasn’t just a question of trusting me with the knowledge, although that was a large part of it. It was more wanting me to know the truth and wanting to open up. For me…” Her hand came to her stomach again. “I’ve always wanted to be a mother, and he was the one I could see myself raising children with.”

“It doesn’t bother you, the fact he’s going to outlive you and the children?”

“No. I’ve made peace with it. I know he’s still going to love me when I’m eighty. Van’s not quite as accepting; he’s looking for a way to reverse what happened to him so that he can start aging again and die a natural death, but for now we’re just enjoying the time that we have. Life is short – for most of us, at least – so we need to make the most of it.”

It was such a simple truth, and yet it hit close to home for Riza. So much of her life had been spent in the shadows. Yes, part of that had been by design whilst she had been living at the bookshop and helping the others who spent their lives in the shadows, but even then, she had been on the edges of that life looking in. She had gone from being shut up in her own home to shutting herself up in a new home, and it was only during the last couple of years, helping Amestris get back on its feet in the best way she could, that she had really stepped out into the light. It was time to make the most of the life she now had, and in Riza’s mind, that included sharing it with Roy.

Roy stuck his head out of the kitchen window. Speak of the devil.

“Hohenheim’s making dinner,” he said. “I’ve been tasked with keeping Edward away from the stove, but I really don’t think he likes me.”

Riza rolled her eyes as Trisha burst out laughing.

“Oh Roy. What are we going to do with you?”

They made their way back inside to the kitchen, where Roy and Edward appeared to be engaged in a staring contest. Hohenheim was obviously trying very hard not to laugh and failing miserably.

“Roy, he’s strapped into his high-chair, he’s not likely to make a run for it,” Trisha pointed out.

“I know, but children are tricky things. I keep thinking that if I turn my back for a moment I’ll find him swinging from the lampshade or something.”

Trisha sighed. “You’re a brilliant alchemist and an excellent military tactician but you’re absolutely hopeless with children, you know that?”

“We can’t all be good at everything.”

Riza continued to watch the interplay between Roy and Edward for a while. She was not particularly maternal, not in the way that Trisha had always wanted to have kids, and there was a small part of her that was afraid of repeating the same mistakes that her father had made and perpetuating the cycle. All the same, when she thought of a nebulous future that included children, it was Roy that she could see in the picture; still just as hopeless as he was now but with more than enough love to make up for it.

Trisha caught her eye and gave a knowing smile, and Riza looked away, embarrassed at the train her thoughts were taking. Still, the notion of that permanent future wouldn’t leave her mind. Not the children yet, but the future that was inextricably linked with Roy.

It was a shame when the evening came to a close and they had to leave Trisha and Hohenheim to go back to the little inn by the railway station that they’d booked into for the night. It had been so good to see them thriving out here, with Hohenheim finally finding some form of peace. They left them with the promise to come back and meet the new baby when he or she arrived next year and the knowledge that they were always welcome at any time, and they made their way back down the hill as the sun began to go down.

“I’m so glad they’re ok, you have no idea. I know that Trisha would have found some way to let us know if anything had happened, but it’s been praying on my mind. I feel a little guilty that we didn’t come to check in on them sooner.”

Riza reached out and found Roy’s hand in the dim dusk light. “I think that might have done more harm than good. They needed the time to get themselves settled and to disappear into the community. And we know that they’re all right now. Honestly, I don’t think that there’s ever been a couple more determined to stick together through thick and thin.”

“I don’t know.” Roy squeezed her hand. “I think we do pretty well on that score.”

“Yeah.” Riza paused, trying to work out the best way of wording what she was about to say and deciding to just go ahead and say it. “Roy, I’ve been thinking. About the future.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t imagine a future without you in it. Well, I can, but I don’t want to. And I was thinking about making that future permanent.”

“Getting married and starting a family, you mean?”

“Yes. Not necessarily the starting a family part. I’ve not gone broody from meeting Edward. But the getting married and being a family of two part. In the future, of course, once everything’s more stable…” She trailed off her rapid justifications as Roy stopped in his tracks.

“Why wait till the future?” he asked.

“What?”

“Why wait till the future and everything being more stable? That might take a very long time; Bradley did a lot of damage in a short space of time and it’s going to take a while to unpick. It might be years before things are better again. I don’t want to wait that long.”

“You don’t mean right now?”

“No, of course not. We’ll need some time to plan it. Although we are absolutely under no circumstances allowing Hughes to get involved in planning, you saw what he was like when he and Gracia were getting married.”

“He might be less exuberant if it’s not his own wedding.”

“Don’t bet on it. But I don’t see why we should wait to make it official when it’s what we both want.”

“Are you sure it’s what we both want?”

Roy took her other hand, and Riza could see the earnestness in his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about anything. Right now, with all this upheaval going on around us, it’s probably the only thing that I’m sure about. I can get down on one knee and do it properly if you want.”

“No, no, it’s ok… Roy, get back up, you silly man!” She tried to pull him back up onto his feet.

“I’m down now, I might as well do it. Riza Hawkeye, will you marry me? Soon? At a definitive point within the next few months, not a vague date in the future?”

“Yes! Yes, of course I will, now get up before someone sees us!”

“There’s no one around for miles except Trisha and Hohenheim and they’d probably be cheering us on.”

Nevertheless, he got to his feet again, brushing the dust off his trousers before pulling Riza in for a kiss.

It was one of those moments that she never wanted to end, and by the time they broke away, the sun was well and truly setting, the lights of the town below starting to twinkle in the darkness as they continued to make their way down hand in hand.

As much as she wanted to think about the future rather than the past, Riza couldn’t help looking back. A few years ago, she had accepted that her life would be a completely solitary one, never to be shared with anyone.

She was so glad that she had turned out to be wrong in that respect, and that the future she had never thought possible was materialising itself right in front of her, that it was literally here in her hands.

She glanced at Roy, returning his smile and squeezing his hand. It was time to let go of the shadows of the past that had haunted her for so long.

It was time to live in true freedom at last.

#FMA:Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Royai #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Fic: Forged Through Fire

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dimigex · 3 years

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Healing Hands, Chapter Seven

New chapter is up and I’m so excited to say it’s a start of the new arc!

You can find it on Fanfiction and Archive (linked for your convenience). But, here’s a snippet. The full chapter was over 8k words, so please find it on one of the other sites if you want to read the rest!

After nearly a month of careful inquiries, disappointing viewings, and unreasonable prices, Sakura found an apartment. The process had been about what she'd expected, though the selection left a lot to be desired. Sakura had wanted somewhere closer to the hospital than her parents house, but in a different building from Kazuko's. She'd formed an uneasy truce with the man over the past few weeks by ignoring what happened between them. There had been no more dinners or mixed-up, alcohol-fueled kisses in the dark, only professionalism.

Sakura found it easy to shift from budding friendship to simple coworkers, and Kazuko didn't question it. She was thankful for that much at least, because, regardless of their extracurricular problems, Sakura and Kazuko worked well together at the hospital. She didn't depend on him as much as she might have before things changed, but at least it wasn't awkward any longer.

The majority of Sakura's free time had been spent looking for an apartment, then getting her life in Konoha settled. She had taken Naruto out for ramen one night and was surprised to find that the boy had matured in the time they'd spent apart. He'd been busy with missions in an attempt to bolster his number of completed missions. Naruto needed to catch up if he wanted to be considered for Hokage in a few years when Kakashi retired. It was nice to know that his dream hadn't faded, especially when so many other things had changed.

Naruto and Sakura's conversation had turned to Sasuke at one point during dinner, but Naruto read the situation and dropped it after a couple of awkward questions. The night had gone better than Sakura thought it would, and they'd agreed to meet up every few weeks to stay in touch. Naruto spent a lot of time in and out of the village with missions these days, but he promised to make an effort to see Sakura, especially if it involved ramen. Some things would never change.

Smiling to herself, Sakura fussed over the pillows on the couch. They weren't the color that she would have chosen, but they complemented the rest of the room. Mebuki had picked them out on their latest shopping trip. Her mother's touch was obvious in each of the rooms, but Sakura hadn't resisted, even when she disagreed. Mebuki needed to feel like she still had a place in Sakura's life and the colors didn't bother her that much. Besides, she could "lose" the pillows later if she wanted to.

A knock on the door drew Sakura away from her contemplations. Taking a deep breath, she finished adjusting the cushions and went to answer. Sakura was both looking forward to having Ino over, and nervous about it at the same time. The girls had talked only a couple of times over the past few weeks, mostly commiserating about how hard being an adult was. Then, they'd laughed about being considered adults. Rebuilding her friendship with Ino felt natural, normal even.

When Sakura opened the door, Ino stepped into the tiny space and looked around with a telling curl on her lips. When her gaze came back to Sakura's face, however, the blond's smile was falsely bright. "It's cute."

Sakura groaned at the fake optimism and closed the door. "Is it bad?"

Ino didn't answer for a long moment, looking around the room with a calculating expression. Then, she nodded as if she'd reached some decision. "Are you allowed to paint?"

"I think so," Sakura answered, raising her shoulders in a shrug. "I'll have to check the lease."

True to her promise, Mebuki had helped Sakura decorate when she moved in two days ago. Candles, photographs, and trinkets filled the space in a way that Sakura never would have considered on her own. It almost felt like a home, or would soon enough. Only a few hours before Ino arrived, Mebuki had appeared with half a dozen bags in hand. The new throw pillows on the couch and the towels in the bathroom were a reminder of her mother's attention to detail.

It wasn't until Sakura moved her things into the larger space that she realized how few personal items she'd accumulated over the years. Thankfully, the apartment had basic furniture; Sakura didn't own any. A picture of her much younger self and the rest of Team Seven grinned at Sakura from a table beside the door. Half a dozen other snapshots surrounded it. Medical textbooks that Tsunade had gifted to her were tucked into a basket beside the couch. A bowl of bright fruit sat on the table.

"We can fix it," Ino declared, placing her bags beside the couch. After a moment, the blond turned to face Sakura, a devious grin sliding onto her lips. "So, who is he?"

Frowning, Sakura tried to follow the mental leap from talking about the apartment to whatever this was. "Who is who?"

Ino reached into one of the bags and pulled out a bottle of wine and matching glasses. As she walked toward the kitchen, she called over her shoulder. "It's not Sasuke again, is it? He wasn't good for you the first time, and he won't be any better the second."

Once Sakura finally caught up to Ino's reasoning, she rolled her eyes and followed her friend to the kitchen. "What makes you think there is even a him to begin with?"

Affecting a gasp, Ino covered her mouth and waggled her eyebrows in Sakura's direction. "Well then, who is she?"

Ino's question ended in a strangled gasp when Sakura smacked her with one of the questionably colored tea towels that Mebuki had selected. The girls dissolved in a fit of laughter that left them with red faces and aching sides. Still chuckling, Ino poured two glasses of wine, then followed Sakura back to the living room. As they settled on opposite sides of the creaky couch, Ino tipped her head to the side to study Sakura. "Seriously though, why the sudden urge to move out if it wasn't to get a little action? You said it's been months since you got some. How do you stand it?"

Sakura tried not to let herself flush at the memory of the almost dalliance with Kazuko as she shrugged. "There are more important things than sex. Besides, work keeps me busy."

"Riveting." Ino mimed a yawn, then her lips contorted into a wicked smile. "Speaking of work, I've heard that there's a good-looking, young doctor at the hospital these days. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Sakura grinned, forcing the thoughts of Kazuko as far from her mind as possible. "I am pretty cute."

"Ha ha, very funny." Ino rolled her eyes then tossed a pillow at Sakura. "You know, I also heard that this handsome young medic had dinner with a certain pink haired kunoichi who you might also know."

Fighting down the blush that threatened to stain her cheeks, Sakura kept her expression neutral. She had already started to regret going to eat with Kazuko for fear of the rumors it could spawn. If she had to deal with it from Ino as well, Sakura wasn't sure that she'd make it. "Don't you have better things to do than gossip?"

The blond laughed. "I am Head of Intelligence in Konoha. It's pretty much my job to know everything."

"You don't have to be so good at it," Sakura grumbled, realizing that she'd been beaten before her mouth opened. Ino probably knew more about Kazuko than Sakura did. Though, maybe not, since he wasn't a shinobi. Accepting that Ino wouldn't leave it alone, Sakura settled on a version of the truth to feed the woman's curiosity. "We'd had a shitty day and were just decompressing."

"Together." Ino drew out the word with a suggestive flair, eyebrows waggling.

Huffing out an annoyed breath, Sakura nodded. "Yes, together, and that's all there is to it. He's a civilian."

Ino hummed under her breath, considering the words from multiple angles before speaking. "Does that mean you have to go on a certain number of dates before you can fuck him? I can never remember."

Laughter burst out of Sakura before she could stop it. "I don't think so, but it wasn't an issue. What about you? Who are you sleeping with these days?"

For the first time in a long time, the color on Ino's cheeks had nothing to do with makeup. Sakura's mouth fell open at the unexpected reaction. "Oh my god, who is it?"

"Nobody," Ino answered, draining the remainder of her wine in one long pull. "I think it's time for a refill. It's hardly a housewarming party without a little alcohol."

Narrowing her eyes at her best friend, Sakura held out her glass. Perhaps the drink would loosen Ino's tongue about whomever it was that made her blush like a little girl again. And if not, Sakura had sources too. Ino wasn't the only person who could dig up a little gossip.

----------BREAK-----------

Moving into her own apartment had given Sakura a modicum of freedom that she hadn't known she'd been missing. At least, in some respects. On the first night that Sakura worked, Mebuki had brought dinner by, and there had been enough leftovers to last several days. When those were finished, Sakura realized that she'd have to add a grocery trip and meal preparation to her routine, not to mention laundry. She hadn't recognized how much her mother still helped her until she had to do everything herself.

Even so, Sakura was thankful to have a place to call her own. She could have the occasional glass of wine without her mother's disapproving looks, sleep late on her days off, and have people over whenever she wanted. Not that Sakura had many opportunities for the latter. Apparently everyone else was busy doing adult things too.

Sakura hadn't found the time to take Naruto out for ramen a second time. Their schedules made it difficult, but she hadn't put as much effort into it as she should have. Sakura simply didn't have time to do everything that she wanted to do with all of her responsibilities. Not to mention, constantly being on alert for Anbu who might need her. Over the past week, she'd only treated one shinobi, a genin who'd gotten over enthusiastic with his shuriken training.

The situation with Kazuko had settled down, though Sakura hadn't talked to him about anything. They had gone their separate ways like adults, working together when necessary and separately when possible. She thought that time would eventually smooth it over. Now, if she could learn to control the blush that crept in whenever an unwanted memory sprung up in her mind.. Maybe Ino was right. Sakura just needed to get laid.

Not much chance of that, Sakura mused as she settled in bed after a long day. Her shift at the hospital hadn't been so bad, it was the running around after work that did her in. But, at least she had enough fresh vegetables to make food for the next several days. Contemplating which dishes she wanted to try her hand at first, Sakura drifted to sleep..

The onions were too large to be considered diced, and Sakura couldn't get her eyes to stop watering long enough to correct her mistake. She grumbled under her breath and continued to chop the pesky vegetables. A pan bubbled and hissed; steam rose in tantalizing waves that wafted the scent of meat and garlic across the room. Sakura nodded to herself, shoved the onions into a smaller bowl, and moved back to the stove.

Focused on the food, Sakura didn't hear the soft footfalls behind her until arms snaked around her middle. She squeaked and suppressed the urge to lash out with chakra. Soft kisses burned a trail along the shell of her ear as she swatted the hands. She tried to complain that she was too busy for the man's attention, but they both knew it was a lie.

When Sakura turned, the man's face was indistinct, a face that she could have seen hundreds of times during her day. She didn't have long to study his features before warm kisses made her forget everything else. Nimble fingers worked at the apron that Sakura had secured around her midsection; his hands drifted lower as the string came loose.

Beep, beep, beep. Sakura squeezed her eyes shut as the hands pulled her closer in a dizzying rush. The kisses along her neck were gaining heat, burning through her attention span. "Don't you need to get that," an unfamiliar voice husked by her ear. Beep, beep, beep. Sakura reached for the oven behind her, frowning at the numbers slowly ticking down. Beep, beep, beep.

The buzzing of Sakura's pager drew her from the warm confines of sleep. She blinked, trying to capture the remnants of her dream, but the urgency of the noise drove them from her mind. Sakura peered at the tiny digits indicating the time, then groaned. Why couldn't Anbu have emergencies during normal business hours?

Throwing off the blankets, Sakura climbed out of bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She stripped off the oversized t-shirt and reached for standard issue jonin blues. Sakura couldn't be bothered with the complicated snaps and buttons of her normal attire while half asleep. Tying off the pants, she grabbed a bag that held everything she'd need for an emergency consultation from beside the night stand and headed toward the door.

The streets of Konoha were eerily quiet in the deepest hours of the night, deserted except for the occasional flicker of unseen protectors at the corner of Sakura's vision. The fluorescent lights of the hospital glowed in the darkness, drawing Sakura like a moth. When she stepped through the doors, the same blanket of silence that cloaked the village enveloped the reception area.

Sakura turned away from the serenity, preparing for chaos. She'd barely reached the shinobi wing before Chiasa hurried toward her. Blood splattered the woman's scrubs as she indicated one of the rooms. "This way, Haruno-sensei."

Chiasa had already attached monitors to the patient while awaiting Sakura's arrival. The machines beeped an urgent rhythm that forced the last vestiges of sleep from Sakura's mind. Her eyes darted to the heart rate, lips pulling into a frown. The number was higher than Sakura wanted to see for someone as physically fit as an Anbu.

A flash of silver caught Sakura's eye; armor littered the floor. A chest plate tilted haphazardly against the leg of a chair. Metal arm guards and black compression gloves piled in a corner. Streaks of mud brown and dappled crimson looked like a macabre art display against the crispness of the bed's sheets.

Shaking her head to clear the image, Sakura moved closer to the bed. She noticed the man lying on it for the first time. Familiar brown hair stuck up in a dozen directions, pushed there by the faceplate and mask that lay beside his hand. Despite the chaos of the scene around them, Yamato's face looked markedly untouched by whatever injuries had brought him to the hospital.

The man's black compression shirt had been cut away, baring Yamato's chest to the light. Minor cuts and gashes decorated his arms and shoulders, each one in various states of healing. On his left side, a bloody bandage clung to the skin, mud and dirt covering it. The edges were too saturated to bond well; it had reopened at some point, allowing debris into the wound.

Sakura dropped her bag into a chair and dug out the tools she needed. One hand came up with a stethoscope that she draped around her neck, and the other held a pen light. Sakura thumbed open Yamato's eyes to check his pupil's reaction and was surprised to feel the burn of fever beneath her fingers. "Yamato? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"

When the man didn't answer, Sakura tucked the light into her pocket and turned to Chiasa. "What do we know? Do we have any information? Where is his team?"

Chiasa glanced down at the notes, though Sakura knew the woman hadn't forgotten any of the information from the intake. The nurse nodded to herself. "A member of his team brought him in while he was unconscious. The girl didn't stay around to check on his status."

Sakura frowned at that addition, wondering if friendships in the black ops meant so little and who the girl was. She didn't have time to answer that question now. Chiasa offered a shrug as if she could read Sakura's thoughts, then continued. "I was told that I don't have clearance for the details of the mission, so your guess is as good as mine on what happened."

A flash of fury burst in Sakura's chest at the words, but she forced it away. With a sharp dip of her head, she moved closer to Yamato and sighed. "I wish I had the time to be gentle."

Bracing her hands against Yamato's shoulders, Sakura pushed her chakra through his semi-conscious defenses. The man arched, a soft growl ripping free from his throat as she probed the injuries. As she'd expected, a dozen or more smaller wounds vied for her attention. They were minor compared to the one on Yamato's side. Another significant cut crossed his thigh, undoubtedly wrapped and hidden by the fabric of his pants, but that would need attention as well.

Ignoring the inconsequential details, Sakura focused on the most threatening injuries. Both the chest and leg were infected. She eased chakra into the wounds, lessening the body's strain to heal itself. A sluggish pulse of blood caught her attention; a tiny laceration on Yamato's liver. Sakura's forehead knit together in concentration as she pushed healing energy around the wound, forcing the body to speed its repair. She spent as much chakra as she dared, but the infection presented another problem.

Sakura lifted her hands away from Yamato's warm skin and wiped them down the front of her pants. It was only then that she realized that she hadn't bothered to don her lab coat, another detail that hardly mattered. She turned back to Chiasa. "Let's start with a broad spectrum antibiotic. Has he been coherent since they brought him in?"

Chiasa shook her head as she turned to the medicine cabinet to find the items needed to start an IV line. Sakura tapped her fingers against her thigh as she chewed her lower lip, mumbling to herself. "Where is your team? Why didn't they stay? And, what the hell happened?"

Grumbling under her breath, Sakura swiped her hair away from her neck in a messy ponytail as she considered the options. Trying to purge infection was trickier than poison; it was a body's response to stimuli instead of foreign invaders that she could isolate. It would be better to clean the wounds with traditional medicine and drain the infections, especially since Sakura wasn't sure what she was dealing with yet.

Sakura released her chakra when Chiasa appeared at her side, holding out the medicine. She nodded and made the notation in Yamato's chart. The page was empty except for Chiasa's intake notes. Sakura resisted the urge to throw the file against the wall as she checked the numbers. Yamato's blood pressure and heart rate were higher than she wanted them to be, especially after healing. Had she missed something?

Kneeling, Sakura picked up the discarded chest plate that she'd noticed earlier. A puncture in the side correlated with the injury to Yamato's chest. Whatever hit him had to have been moving at incredible speed to crumple the armor that way. Sakura placed the item on the chair, then collected the arm guards to join it. She reached for his mask, brushing her fingers over the green and red stripes on the cat's cheeks that had kept his features free of wounds. Sakura wondered if the animal had been assigned, or if Yamato had picked it himself.

After placing the mask with the rest of the armor, Sakura crossed the room to pull a blanket from the cabinet. Since the rest of Yamato's team hadn't stuck around long enough to see how he was doing, she had no idea what to do with it. The man had essentially been abandoned, and it infuriated Sakura. Was that the way that all Anbu treated each other? She couldn't imagine bringing Naruto or Sasuke to the hospital in this condition and leaving them there.

Sakura sighed, watching the efficient way that Chiasa worked. The nurse had already gotten an IV line started in Yamato's wrist and was buzzing around the machines connected to his body. Sakura glanced at his heart rate and blood pressure again, frowning. "I want vitals checked by hand every twenty minutes for the next three hours," she decided aloud.

"If there are no changes after that," Sakura glanced at her watch, startled to find the time so late already. "After that, I'll be back on shift and can reevaluate him myself."

Chiasa nodded, familiar with the expectations. "Do you want any blood work?"

"Yeah, let's get a cbc and blood culture to see what we're up against." Sakura paused, then nodded to herself. There was nothing else that she could accomplish tonight. "I'm going to try and catch a couple of hours of sleep in my office. Wake me if there are any changes."

Gathering her bag from beside the bed, Sakura slung it over her shoulder and walked from the room. The silence of the hallways made her uneasy. She was used to the hustle and bustle that predominated day shift, but more emergencies came through the doors at night. Sprains and stuffy noses were replaced with broken bones and heart attacks. Sakura didn't envy the men and women who worked while everyone else slept. She'd done more than her fair share of night shifts when training with Tsunade, mostly because the woman liked sleep more than she liked her student. Or, so Sakura thought.

A ratty couch tucked into one corner of Sakura's office, a new addition for these late night Anbu surprises. It was hardly long enough to stretch out on, even for someone of Sakura's height, but it worked in a pinch. The room was blissfully dark at least. Sakura tossed her bag onto the floor, then tried to get comfortable on the lumpy cushions. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Despite the exhaustion nagging the back of her mind, Sakura's body refused to rest. Sighing, she moved back to the desk and flipped on the light.

A dozen charts waited for Sakura's attention, but she couldn't focus enough to deal with the tiny details that they required. Her mind refused to settle enough for sleep, but wouldn't let her work. Sakura had assumed that the worst missions, the ones that left shinobi broken and battered like Yamato, had become an exception now that the world was at peace. She berated herself for that naivety. The current political situation was tenuous at best, forced by fear or respect for Naruto and Sasuke. Anbu continued to put their lives on the line daily and would do so until something major changed

Sakura's frown deepened as she considered Yamato, still trying to reconcile the fact that he was Anbu. She had wondered why she saw so little of him after the war, but hadn't thought to comment on it. Sai had never mentioned the man in relation to Anbu either, but that wasn't surprising considering the security around them. Sai wasn't one to gossip, anyway. Sakura tapped her fingers against her forearm, then checked her watch, less than an hour had passed.

Giving up on the idea of sleep, Sakura pushed to her feet and left her office behind. The halls were still deserted and silent as she walked back to Yamato's room. Chiasa had gone, dimming the lights before she left to help her patient rest. Beside his bed, the alarm on the monitor flashed, but it had been silenced for being constantly out of normal parameters. Yamato's heart rate and blood pressure remained elevated.

The healing, push of fluids, antibiotics, and rest should have lowered the number by now. Sakura stepped closer and captured Yamato's wrist in her hands. Her fingers pressed against his pulse point, surprised to feel the rapid beat through the skin. She had wondered if the machine was getting a false reading somehow, but her physical count came up with the same number or close enough that it made no difference. Sakura laid his hand back on the bed and frowned. "Why aren't you stabilizing?"

As Sakura expected, Yamato didn't answer. Chiasa had cleared away the tatters of his uniform, then cleaned and wrapped the wounds. Yamato's armor remained beneath the blanket where Sakura had left it. The man looked different without the jonin uniform and usual head protector. She brushed her fingers over his forehead, feeling the warmth of fever. Yamato's temperature was up, but not high enough to force his body to shut down. "Did I miss something," Sakura wondered aloud, mentally cycling through the dozens of medical textbooks that she'd read over the years.

Lowering her hands to hover above Yamato's chest, Sakura eased her chakra into his body. The echo of the man's life force ruled out chakra exhaustion. Sakura had tended to Kakashi after battle enough times to know what that felt like. Yamato's chakra brimmed with energy and life.

Sakura quested deeper, reexamining the injuries and looking for something that she could have missed. It was exactly as she'd seen earlier, minus her healing. Huffing, she broke the connection between herself and Yamato. When Sakura opened her eyes, she was startled to find Chiasa at the end of the bed with a stethoscope in hand. The woman was coming back to get the next set of vitals. Sakura dipped her chin in greeting. "Have we gotten any results yet?"

"Not yet," Chiasa answered, pulling the file from the box at the end of the bed. "We should have part of it back in the next couple of hours, but the culture will take longer."

"Yeah," Sakura agreed, humming thoughtfully. Her eyes swept over Yamato again, then returned to his heart rate. "Draw a tox screen as well, and put a rush on the results."

If Chiasa was surprised by the unusual request, her face didn't reveal it. She nodded and made a notation in the chart. "Anything else, Haruno-sensei?"

Sakura shook her head, wondering if any of the tests would help her fit the pieces together into an image that made some kind of sense. She rested a hand on Yamato's bare shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this soon, I promise."

Don’t miss the rest of the chapter, linked above!

#dimi write #healing hands #YamaSaku #Tenzo/Sakura #Sakura Haruno #Tenzo #Yamato #SLOW Burn

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gusu-emilu · 3 years

Text

Cantatio: Chapter Two

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (POV Lan Zhan)

Summary: Introducing the Wens, a squabble over dorm rooms, and Lan Xichen being my favorite wingman.

Wei Wuxian rubbed his nose and raised his eyebrows at Lan Wangji. His grey eyes sparkled with contentment and only a hint of mischief.

Lan Wangji afforded him a twitch of a smile.

Perhaps Wei Wuxian had a chance of winning his favor.

If he tried harder.

Cloud Recesses Academy AU, Rated T - read on AO3

< Ch. 1 | Ch. 3 > | chapter list

“What?”

“Wens?”

“Is this for real?”

Everyone turned to face the forest path entrance to the central courtyard, where there stood three teenagers in crimson robes. One was a tall, burly young man. In the middle was a much shorter mouse-faced girl, and clutching her robes was a timid boy who looked a few years too young to be attending the academy.

“What are the Wen-dogs doing here?” Jiang Cheng said under his breath.

Nie Mingjue’s deep voiced boomed from the steps of the Main Hall.

“How perplexing. I thought that Wen Ruohan said he would not deign to send his disciples to the inferior Cloud Recesses Academy,” he said with a snarl.

The older boy looked like he was about to retort, until Nie Mingjue marched forward to stand right in front of him. Nie Mingjue towered over the Wen disciples, even the brawny boy, who must have been six feet tall himself.

Nie Mingjue had many reasons to believe that his father was killed by Wen Ruohan’s underhanded techniques. Someone had tampered with his father’s saber before a night hunt, leaving him defenseless at a critical moment in the fight against a monster. He died a slow, agonizing death that left Nie Mingjue fatherless and forced him into the position of clan leader at only twenty years old. His younger brother had been equally shaken by the tragedy.

The Wens were already despised by the cultivation world because of Wen Ruohan’s hunger for power. Since that day, Nie Mingjue had hated them more than anyone else.

The taller Wen boy stammered silently for a few seconds in Nie Mingjue’s shadow, then furrowed his brow, straightened his back, and squared his shoulders in a failed attempt to match his contender’s height. When he spoke, his voice was crass and whiny, the sound of someone who was used to being worshipped by people who feigned blindness to the arrogant mask that shielded his incompetence.

“Our master Clan Leader Wen believes that there are a few things to learn from the other sects.”

“We have nothing that All-Mighty Clan Leader Wen does not know already. I suggest you start early on your way back to the Nightless City.” He spat out each word with disgust, as if he thought that if he said them too politely, they'd crawl back down his throat and poison him.

The boy opened his mouth. Nie Mingjue scared it closed with a single step forward.

To Lan Wangji’s surprise, this time the girl bowed and replied. Her tone was level and respectful, but her eyes could have cut through steel.

“Clan Leader Nie. It is both our duty and an honor to receive instruction from the clan leaders. We request to stay.”

“You must have heard that the commandments of the Cloud Recesses are extremely strict. Malevolent intentions are not welcome.”

“We have heard. Clan Leader Nie, please excuse my presumption, but I have also heard that one such rule states the following: ‘It is prohibited to deny education to promising and willing students without just cause.’ Do you mean to say that we Wens are neither promising nor willing, or that there is just cause for expelling us?”

Murmurs rushed throughout the crowd.

“That Wen Chao is the clan leader’s son, but he looks like a frightened child compared to this girl!"

“I bet she’s the doctor’s apprentice, Wen Qing. I heard that she’ll stick a needle in you if you give her nonsense!"

“Yikes! What nerves, to stand up to Clan Leader Nie, of all people.”

“I’m even scared to do that, and he’s my brother,” Nie Huaisang said.

Lan Wangji sifted through his memory until he landed upon Rule #562. Wen Qing had recited it word-for-word. If she had memorized the entirety of the Gusu Lan Clan rules before arriving at the Cloud Recesses, then surely she was a worthy student, regardless of her surname.

Lan Xichen approached Nie Mingjue and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Lady Wen is right. There is no need to challenge them. Couriers informed the leaders yesterday that the Wen Clan had decided to send disciples.”

“And why was I not informed?”

“Mingjue, the Wen disciples have already made the long journey here. Let what is done, be done.”

Nie Mingjue balled his fists and glowered at the Wen disciples. “It would be wise of you to watch your moves. Or I will be watching them for you.”

He turned around in a huff and stomped into the Main Hall where the rest of the clan leaders were gathered. A distant, muted version of his thick voice could be heard after he entered the building, presumably due to him snapping at the other clan leaders for purposely keeping him in the dark about the Wens’ attendance.

Soon the courtyard was silent. The air of the Cloud Recesses smelled like spring water, flowers, and tea leaves, as it always did, but now it was tainted by a pungent tension. No one dared approach to greet the Wen disciples. The Wen disciples did not advance either. In between the two hostile groups stood Lan Xichen like a leftover droplet of storm water.

A swish of dark grey robes shifted in the crowd of disciples as Wei Wuxian took the smallest step forward, but Jiang Cheng seized his arm to hold him back.

Another long moment of silence followed.

Finally, after Lan Xichen had surveyed the entire courtyard with his gentle gaze, he faced the Wen disciples and bowed. “Welcome to the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan Wangji glided forward to stand next to his brother and mirrored his second bow. This time, Lan Wangji spoke the greeting, but he directed his voice specifically to the young woman.

“Welcome.”

* * *

The tension in the air gradually released. The disciples chatted and milled around once more, although they kept their distance from the Wens after sparing them a reluctant greeting.

Everyone was eager for Lan Qiren to arrive back from his business at the perimeter of the Cloud Recesses. Not because they were hopeful for the strict discipline he would impose on the disciples—only Lan Wangji felt that way—but because he was the last clan leader left to arrive. Once all the clan leaders were present, the welcoming ceremony could begin, and then the disciples would be free to visit their dormitories and explore the grounds.

Lan Wangji and the Wen disciples were the only ones who stood quietly at the fringe of the crowd. Once in a while, Wen Qing would murmur something to the nervous boy at her side, but she never even acknowledged Wen Chao.

When Lan Qiren finally arrived, everyone froze and bowed. He said a gruff hello to a few disciples, scolded a much greater number of them, and then hurried into the Main Hall to meet with the clan leaders. A few moments later, Lan Xichen was called inside. Then he reemerged to summon Wen Chao and Wen Qing. They steeled their expressions and followed the tail of his sapphire shadow into the Main Hall.

The Wen boy was left alone.

He folded his hands and scrunched his shoulders, as if he wished to shrink to the size of one of the pebbles under his disproportionately large feet. His magnetic dark eyes darted around at the disciples, never lingering on one person for more than a few seconds before retreating to the ground.

Two disciples in golden robes and a Nie Clan disciple approached him.

“Aren’t you too little to be here?” one said.

“Yeah, how old are you?” said the Nie disciple in a mocking tone.

“H-H-Hello…I’m Wen Ning, courtesy name Qionglin…I’m fourteen, but I'll be f-f-fifteen soon.” Wen Ning toyed with his fingers as he stuttered.

The two Jin Clan disciples exchanged glances and ruffled their robes, the color of rotten egg yolks billowing at their shins. The one whose anvil-shaped head seemed like it was too heavy for his body was Jin Zixun, cousin of Jin Zixuan.

“Told you he was too little.”

“Shut up, Zixun.”

The three disciples stepped closer to Wen Ning, who shrank his frame even smaller.

“Who does Wen Ruohan think he is, sending a kid to train with us?” said Jin Zixun.

“Yeah, is this some kind of insult? What are you doing here, pipsqueak?”

“I’m just…I’m just here to study with my sister…”

“Oh, that feisty one is his sister.”

“Pah, who's worried about her? These Wens are good-for-nothings.”

Wen Ning was now backing away from the three disciples, but they continued to edge toward him with footsteps that became more and more menacing. Lan Wangji dug his fingernails into his palms as he watched. The balls of his feet itched with the tension of a spring. If they got any closer to the boy, he was ready to shoot between them.

“This mouse isn’t gonna be in sparring class with us, is he?”

“He’s gonna regret it if he is.”

In a flash, Lan Wangji blocked them from closing in on the boy. Before he could speak, he heard a familiar voice at his side, but it sounded much different than before. It was bitter and calculating, rigid with cold, steady anger like the blade of a dagger.

“Back up.”

Wei Wuxian was glaring at Jin Zixun, an eerie darkness spread across his brow. His fists were tight and his shoulders were drawn back. The playful smile that had once seemed plastered on his face was nowhere to be found, replaced by an icy severity that threatened to give its recipient frost burn.

Every pair of eyes in the courtyard was fixed on them.

“We’re just having a chat with the pipsqueak.”

“Now.”

"..."

“Ack, whatever,” Jin Zixun grumbled as the three bullies finally dispersed.

Lan Wangji exhaled in silent relief. He glanced over at Wei Wuxian, who did not smile or make a childish face at him like he expected. He only tightened the corners of his mouth and gave a curt nod, like a soldier who had finished his duty.

Lan Wangji raised his eyebrows and nodded in reply. This was nothing like the imp from earlier. It was like a different person stood before him.

One whom he...respected.

They turned around to face Wen Ning, who seemed to have relaxed, although his shoulders were still scrunched.

“Hey, big guy. Chin up,” said Wei Wuxian.

Wen Ning gazed up in wonder with round, dark eyes so deep they looked like they wanted to pull the two saviors into a tight hug. Then he jerked into a bow. “Thank you, Young Masters.”

Wei Wuxian flashed a cheeky grin. “No thanks needed! Everyone already knows I’m the coolest person in the Cloud Recesses Academy!”

He poked Lan Wangji in the arm several times. “Don’t you think so, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

And just like that, the imp had returned.

“Disciples! Lower your voices! Please organize yourselves! We are starting the opening ceremony. Excuse me, why is your sword in your hand? I don’t care if it’s sheathed, put it away! You there, close that fan!” Lan Qiren barked. He stood on the walkway outside the Main Hall and was flanked on both sides by the other clan leaders.

Everyone filed into the Main Hall and took a seat. Despite the dark brown that dominated the walls and furniture, the room was bright with a sky-blue light that bounced off every hard wooden edge and fed the disciples' energy. The cobalt panels and thriving green potted penjing trees stood out as a tasteful accent. The floor was polished enough that it reflected fuzzy outlines of the five rows of desks and the disciples who were perched on floor cushions behind them. The room buzzed with excitement radiating from the young cultivators. Not even Lan Qiren could quell the lively hum of their chattering until the ceremony began officially.

Lan Wangji sat with perfect posture and attentive ears for the entirety of the ceremony as each clan leader took their turn to speak about tradition, honor, and education. He opened his mind and absorbed the eloquent words of the clan leaders. Lan Wangji’s seat was at the front of the hall, but that didn’t prevent him from noticing when disciples behind him lolled their heads, or whispered to their neighbors, or—in Wei Wuxian’s case—threw paper airplanes. Lan Wangji only squared his jaw and sat a little straighter, striving to set an example and compensate for their disrespect to the professors.

By custom, professors at the Cloud Recesses Academy had always been clan leaders, former clan leaders, or their spouses. This year, Lan Qiren was teaching Ancient Texts, Jiang Fengmian and Nie Mingjue were teaching Swordsmanship & Weaponry (known by the disciples as 'sparring'), Yu Ziyuan was teaching Alchemy & Medicine, Madam Jin was teaching Diplomacy, and Jin Guangshan was teaching History.

However, one of the professors did not introduce himself as a clan leader, and in fact Lan Wangji had never seen or heard of him before. He was a tall man with chiseled features and black robes. His reserved voice hung in the air like icicles. His name was Song Lan, and he would be teaching Beings & Creatures.

Lan Wangji made a mental note to ask his brother about Song Lan later.

Once the opening ceremony concluded, the sun was much lower in the sky. Everyone was led to the dormitories by the senior disciples. They followed a winding path of square grey stones past temples, classrooms, and chambers. The path continued through a patch of woods until it reached a fork. Senior Disciple Jiang Yanli led the girls to the left. The boys turned right to follow Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue, who led them to the boys’ dormitory.

Although Nie Mingjue was a clan leader, he was still completing his graduate studies at the Cloud Recesses Academy. He insisted on fulfilling all the standard duties of a senior disciple in addition to his clan leader responsibilities, even if that meant living next to the boys’ dormitory with Lan Xichen to supervise the rowdy disciples.

As they followed the path, Jin Guangyao moved up to the front of the line until he was behind the two senior disciples. He eagerly started a conversation with Lan Xichen. On his shoulders, he hauled the expensive embroidered luggage of Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun, as well as his own plain cloth bag.

Lan Xichen laughed brightly at whatever Jin Guangyao had told him.

“Hmph. Little suck-up,” Jin Zixun muttered.

“Ah, let him be. The happier he is, the more careful he is with our stuff,” Jin Zixuan said with a pompous wave of his hand.

When they looked at the front of the line again, Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue were each holding half of Jin Guangyao’s luggage.

“Or the less of it he carries, I guess."

The boys’ dormitories were a series of long, squat buildings with brown walls of dried bamboo. A slightly crooked fence of spaciously crisscrossed bamboo stalks enclosed the buildings on all sides. The fence was only interrupted by a gate with a wide, green roof, which like a friendly embrace covered the stone path that led into the dormitory courtyard. On either side of the path stood two twin lanterns. Outside each building were four seats and a dense square table decorated with cloudlike patterns, all carved from the same matte white stone that formed the arch Lan Wangji had walked under just a few hours ago to enter the Cloud Recesses. On the right side of the courtyard grew a knobby tree whose bright green shoots hung over the dormitory roofs, mingling with branches from other trees that grew outside the fence.

The disciples chattered with approval.

“Wow, this is pretty," Wei Wuxian said.

“Duh, dumbass. It’s the Cloud Recesses, what did you expect?” Jiang Cheng shot back. His angry, crinkled brow did not match the obvious admiration in his eyes for the sight before him, but it did suit his apparent displeasure when the same admiration was expressed by his brother.

Lan Xichen stood at the foot of one of the dorms and faced the disciples with a dignified enthusiasm. Next to him was Nie Mingjue, arms folded and face as tense as ever.

“Alright, now that we’re here, it’s time to determine the rooming arrangements,” Lan Xichen said.

The sound of flapping robes filled the enclosure as the young men shifted spots in a hurry, sidling up next to friends or locking arms with a neighbor. Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, and Ouyang-xiong* formed a group immediately. Lan Wangji stood in place. (*Ouyang Zizhen’s father, whose name we don’t know, sadly)

“There is a small issue that we have to settle before you choose roommates,” Lan Xichen said. “As the clan leaders were not expecting the Wen disciples to be joining us until yesterday, we are short of two rooms. There is a duplex a few paces away that can house the two extra disciples, but I’m sorry to say that it has not been used for several decades and has fallen into a state of neglect.”

This was surprising. Every building in the Cloud Recesses was maintained in pristine condition. Why had this one been left to deteriorate?

“Would anyone like to volunteer to stay in the duplex? The rest of you will be sorted into quads,” Lan Xichen said.

Somehow the disciples looked around at everyone and no one at the same time.

“Anybody?”

Silence.

“Put the little Wen in there,” Nie Mingjue said with a bated mixture of satisfaction and disgust.

Wen Ning, who had been spacing out at the edge of the group, jerked his head up. “…D-D-Does Clan Leader Nie mean me?”

Nie Mingjue scoffed.

Lan Xichen wrung his hands. “Young Master Wen, is that okay with you? I must emphasize that there is no pressure for you to accept.”

“Y-Y-Yes.”

After a slight hesitation, Lan Xichen said, “Alright, we need one more. …the Young Heir Wen Chao?”

“Ha! If you try to put me in your worst room, you’ll be hearing from my father tomorrow!

“Insolent br—”

“Mingjue. Let’s see if there’s someone more willing.”

Nie Mingjue flared his nose and crossed his arms into each other even more deeply, like he was digging a trench in which to bury every Wen of the cultivation world.

Wen Ning did not have good prospects for a friendly roommate. If someone volunteered, it would likely be because they wanted a roommate who wouldn’t get in the way and guessed that Wen Ning would be easy to order around and intimidate. If someone were selected by the senior disciples, they would be unhappy about living in the decrepit duplex and even more unhappy about rooming with a Wen instead of their friends.

The majority of the disciples were not shy about their hatred for the Wen Clan. Three had already demonstrated that they had no qualms about bullying the boy.

What would happen to him?

The disciples whispered among themselves. Wei Wuxian and his roommates were having an especially animated conversation. Lan Wangji thought that if anyone was the best choice to live with Wen Ning, it was Wei Wuxian or Nie Huaisang, but neither of them spoke up. In fact, they seemed intent on staying with their quad.

Wen Ning needed a roommate who would keep him safe.

“I am willing,” Lan Wangji said.

Lan Xichen sighed with relief. “Thank you, Wangji.”

“And I’ll take Young Master Wen’s place!”

Wei Wuxian marched forward. He broadened his shoulders and placed his hands on his hips, beaming up at Lan Xichen. He winked at Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji bit the inside of his mouth. That plan backfired.

Wei Wuxian sauntered over and leaned onto Lan Wangji, using his shoulder as an armrest for the second time today. “Hi roomie!”

Lan Wangji’s entire body tensed.

With a nod of his head, Wei Wuxian pointed toward Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, and Ouyang-xiong. Nie Huaisang held a cream-colored fan over the bottom half of his face with one hand and waved with the other. His eyes slimmed into crescents in a bashful smile that was hidden behind the fan. Ouyang-xiong waved slowly. Jiang Cheng was clearly not enthusiastic, but he tried to appear welcoming.

“Wen Qionglin, you’re with them.”

“T-T-Thank you, Young Master Wei! Please, call me Wen Ning.” Then with a timid grin he scurried away toward his new roommates.

Lan Wangji watched him for a few seconds, then turned to Wei Wuxian, who was still leaning on his shoulder like a lazy cat.

“I volunteered in order for Young Master Wen to avoid a roommate who may mistreat him. Now you have put him with three disciples.”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I put him with three friends. Do you think I would volunteer to switch places with Wen Ning without making those buffoons swear to be nice to him? Now the little Wen will have even more buddies to look out for him. And they actually liked the idea a lot! Jiang Cheng was thrilled to get rid of me. Sorry, now you’re the one who has to deal with me, Lan Er-Gege.”

Wei Wuxian rubbed his nose and raised his eyebrows at Lan Wangji. His grey eyes sparkled with contentment and only a hint of mischief.

Lan Wangji afforded him a twitch of a smile.

Perhaps Wei Wuxian had a chance of winning his favor.

If he tried harder.

* * *

“Listen up, everyone. You all follow Lan Xichen to your dorms. These groups come with me,” Nie Mingjue said as he made choppy gestures at the disciples. “You two, wait a moment.”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian waited next to the stone path in the courtyard and watched as the disciples were herded into dormitories in groups of four. Amazingly, their voices amplified tenfold once they were behind the bamboo walls.

“Wow, this is pretty big! There’s even artwork in here.”

“I call this bed!”

“Hey, no fair, you can’t call one yet! I wasn’t ready!”

Lan Xichen filed the last disciple into a dormitory at the end of the courtyard, then glided over to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. There was a momentary glint of pleasure in his eyes.

“I’ll lead you two to your duplex. Mingjue, if any of the disciples want to go exploring, make sure they know the boundaries they should stay in.”

The two roommates followed Lan Xichen past the fence surrounding the dormitories. When they left the stone path, the sound of their footsteps shifted from soft clinks to the swish of dirt and grass. It took less than a minute to arrive at a building that was the same style as the dormitories, but smaller and more worn down.

“Here we are,” Lan Xichen said as he slid open the door.

Objectively, the interior was not in disrepair at all, never mind as dire as Lan Xichen had made it sound earlier. But by the standards of the Cloud Recesses, the state of this dormitory was unacceptable. The wood of the low tea table in the center of the room was soft, the dark green china on top of it was mismatched, the turquoise curtains beside it had frayed ends in some places. The tan floor mats showed a hint of discoloration. However, the beds still appeared to be in pristine condition.

“It used to be a duplex for senior disciples, like the one that Mingjue and I will be living in. It was cleaned earlier today, but little attention has been paid to this building for many years. My apologies for its current state,” Lan Xichen said.

Wei Wuxian stepped inside and spread his arms out comfortably at his sides, spinning in a circle as he admired the interior. “I think it’s great! It has character. And look at this, we don’t just get shelves, we get closets too! This is no downgrade, we hit the jackpot! It looks like there are perks to being secondhand senior disciples, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Xichen entered after them, but at the sound of his younger brother’s birth name, he paused in the doorway and raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, there are some extra features that senior disciples have the privilege of enjoying in their rooms,” he said. “By the way, that reminds me. It seems that you two have gotten to know each other. Wangji, have you decided how Young Master Wei will be reprimanded for breaking the rules?”

Wei Wuxian immediately started whining. “Aiya, Lan Zhan, let’s just forget about all of that. I just got here, and now we’re such good roommates. Don’t ruin that already! Do you want a cranky roommate?”

Wei Wuxian was one of the most expressive people Lan Wangji had ever met. In the span of a few hours, his handsome tan face had worn a look of mischief, concentration, triumph, anger, gentleness, and now the most unbearable one yet—pouting.

But Lan Wangji would not spare a troublemaker this easily.

“I have decided.”

“That you’ll let me off the hook? Please say yes?”

“Copy the Gusu Lan Clan rules one hundred times.”

“Nooooo! That’s so boringgggg! Lan Zhan, how could you do this to meeee?” He tugged at Lan Wangji’s robes and wailed.

Lan Wangji did not enjoy this immature reaction or unwelcome physical contact. He locked his gaze with Lan Xichen and conveyed as much stony displeasure in his expression as possible.

Lan Xichen smirked.

“Alright then. Young Master Wei, after classes are finished tomorrow, you will head straight to the library and begin copying. Wangji will supervise you.”

Supervise?

“Dinner is in an hour. If you want to go out wandering, stay within the boundaries, and remember that curfew is nine o’clock,” Lan Xichen said on his way out.

The person whom these instructions were meant for was clearly not listening. Wei Wuxian still clutched at Lan Wangji’s robes, whining for a different sentence.

“Lan ZHAN, can’t you give me a different punishment? Like just hit me or something?”

Lan Wangji remained rigid in place with his lips slightly parted, staring at the chuckling ghost his brother had left in the doorway, feeling very betrayed.

He had to supervise him, too? Wasn’t being his roommate enough of a burden?

They unpacked their belongings onto the shelves of their respective sides of the room. Wei Wuxian had insisted that Lan Wangji let him choose the side he wanted, since Lan Wangji was being such a mean roommate. Lan Wangji did not care which bed was his and would have let Wei Wuxian choose anyway—a mindset which he thought made him, in fact, a great roommate.

“Wow, this closet is so big I could fit inside it! No more folding spare robes for us!” Wei Wuxian said after opening his closet.

Lan Wangji set down his jar of tea leaves in its proper place on the shelf and rose to examine his own closet. He gave the door a slight tug, but it did not open.

Strange. He tugged a bit harder, but to no avail.

Was it jammed?

He tried a third time with enough strength that any door should have flown open. It did not budge.

“Lan Zhan, why so noisy? Is there something wrong with your door?”

“Locked.”

Wei Wuxian furrowed his brow. “How could it be locked? There’s nowhere to put a key. There’s not even a lock mechanism.”

He bounded over and inspected the closet door himself. After a few tugs and some huffing and puffing, he gave up. “That’s really weird. A door like this is built to open easily. Mine works just fine. Hahaha, maybe it just doesn’t like you, Lan Zhan! It knows you’re a big meanie, haha!”

“Boring.”

“Don’t worry, you can just share my closet if you want. There’s way too much room for me to use it all.”

“That is not necessary.”

Wei Wuxian tugged at his arm. “Really, I mean it! We have these nice closets, might as well take advantage of them! Are you telling me you want to fold your robes instead of hanging them up? Come on, just use my closet!”

When Lan Wangji did not answer, Wei Wuxian crouched down, grabbed Lan Wangji’s robes from his luggage, and carried them over to his side of the room.

Lan Wangji watched Wei Wuxian hang his robes in the closet. His motions were fluid and precise. Wei Wuxian’s figure was actually quite pleasing to look at.

That is, if Wei Wuxian was the first thing one saw after staring at a slug for a year. Even that thought was too generous.

They had not walked together to the central square of the Cloud Recesses for dinner, but somehow they ended up sitting together. Wei Wuxian entertained his peers by teasing Lan Wangji about the way he had organized his belongings in the room—“By size, color, and category, like an old man who has nothing better to do than create silly problems for himself to solve! You should’ve seen how concentrated he was. His lips were all pursed like this, and his eyebrows were all angled like this”—narrating the saga with wild, exaggerated body language that aggravated Lan Wangji so much, he stood up and circled all the way to the senior disciples’ end of the seating arrangement to plop down next to Jiang Yanli.

“Don’t pay any mind to Xianxian, he only teases people he likes,” she said with a soft smile.

“What a pity,” Lan Wangji said.

Lan Xichen grazed him over once with laughing eyes, then took an indulgent sip of tea and turned to Nie Mingjue.

That night, Lan Wangji sat in his dorm reading ahead in his history book about obscure martial heroes who lived within a certain two-hundred year period. Lan Wangji did not expect Jin Guangshan to be a good history teacher—he had reached a ripe point in his self-absorbed middle age that made him inclined to narrate his own exaggerated autobiography instead—and therefore Lan Wangji had to ensure he taught himself whatever the clan leader might fail to mention.

Wei Wuxian had not returned to the dorm since after dinner. Nie Huaisang, Jiang Cheng, and Wen Ning had stepped inside for a moment to look around, then exclaimed something about fireflies and ran outside with Wei Wuxian at their heels.

By now it was nearly nine o’clock. For Lan Wangji’s own sake, he hoped that Wei Wuxian would return by curfew. Otherwise he would be forced to increase the number of times that Wei Wuxian had to copy the three thousand Gusu Lan Clan rules, and Lan Wangji did not want to spend any more time with the hyperactive troublemaker than he needed to.

Lan Wangji turned a page in the book, then paused to listen to the crickets singing joyfully outside. The evening had developed a slight chill, but inside the dorm, the air he breathed was warm, sweet, and a bit musky, like a bowl of comforting broth after a long day outside. His heart hummed in tune with the peaceful crickets.

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night.

Lan Wangji leapt to his feet.

It had come from behind him!

He whipped around, but there was nothing there except his own furniture. He grabbed his sword Bichen and sprinted out the door to scour the area surrounding his dorm, but there was no one in sight there, either.

A shiver trembled through Lan Wangji's limbs as he slowly paced back inside and faced his side of the room.

It wasn’t possible for the sound to come from where his instincts told him it had.

But could it be?

The scream came from inside his closet?

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3! New chapters posted every Monday on AO3 and Tuesday on Tumblr.

Ch. 3 > | chapter list

#mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fic #the untamed fanfiction #wangxian fanfiction #the untamed fanfic #wangxian #mdzs #cql #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan zhan #wei ying #cantatio #emilu talks

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thoscheitrashdhawan · 4 years

Text

Love That Burns As Bright As The Fires Of Gallifrey

Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Dhawan!Master and Tenth Doctor x Dhawan!Master

Words: 2733

Summary: The Doctor and the Master crash on Earth, and end up meeting a past version of the Doctor. The Thirteenth Doctor is angry at him about Gallifrey, and the Tenth Doctor is just happy to know that his oldest friend is alive (because he was always the Doctor who would do anything to save his friend, no matter what he'd done.)

A/N: Some fluff, some angst, but it has a happy ending.

It had been an accident. She hadn’t meant to come here - the Doctor had simply landed the first safe place she could find in an attempt to avoid damaging the TARDIS even more than she already had. So when she stepped out of the doors (she would’ve liked to immediately flown away, but the room was filled with smoke and she needed to leave so the TARDIS could clean the air) she was surprised to see not two TARDISes, like she’d been expecting, but three.

Unfortunately, she only had herself to blame for this crash-landing (but she was trying her hardest to blame the Master, too.) She’d been angry, barely paying attention to where she was going, and she’d been determined not to let any other ships get in her way.

It was reckless. It was dangerous. And, more importantly, it was the way that the Master always flew his TARDIS, so it was hardly a surprise that when they crossed paths, they crashed straight into each other.

The Doctor glanced between their two ships, both of them leaking smoke and radiation, and when the Master crawled out of his TARDIS, doubled over and spluttering, she was relieved. (Was relieved the right word? Maybe that was taking it a step too far.) But despite that feeling (whatever it was) she was angry. Angry that he destroyed their planet, and angry that he hadn’t at least had the decency to tell her himself.

Maybe he’d been afraid of what her reaction would be. Good, she thought. Let him be afraid of me.

But although she wouldn’t admit it in the moment that the thought crossed her mind, she didn’t really mean it. If the Master was ever afraid of her, it would hurt. Because the two of them had been friends - after everything he’d done, he was still the man who used to be her best friend. Now, she could hardly look at him without the anger burning hot inside her. (As hot as the fires that he used to burn their planet, maybe.)

The doors to both of their TARDISes slammed themselves shut, and the two Time Lords found themselves staring at each other for a moment, before both of their gazes turned to the third TARDIS. It looked like a police box, so they both instantly knew it was one of hers.

The Doctor was desperate to leave - if she escaped the situation before the other version of herself saw her (would they be past or future - she was dying to know), then maybe she could avoid a paradox. But with the TARDIS trying to clear the radiation, she wouldn’t be able to fly it away, and if she left it here and ran off, then the other version of herself would see it. Before she’d had a chance to decide what to do, the Master was running over to her, rage evident in his eyes as his hand came up to wrap around her throat. Her back hit blue wood, and despite his painful grip, she rolled her eyes.

“Great.” She hissed, glancing to the side. (At least he’d had the decency to shove her against the door that the Doctor barely ever used, so she wouldn’t fall backwards if they opened it.) “Now they’re going to wonder who’s outside.”

As if on cue, the door swung open, and a younger version of the Doctor stepped out. (She should’ve known it would be him - each TARDIS exterior had slight differences that she should’ve recognised.) She didn’t realise how much she’d missed that pinstripe suit until she saw it on him. And she’d really had good hair back then, too.

“Who are you?” He asked, confusion written on his face. But his eyes quickly flicked over to their ships, and he instantly knew that one of them was his. He might’ve taken a little more time to figure out who was who if the Master hadn’t had his hand wrapped around her throat. “Ah.”

The Master’s hand dropped to his side. “Hello, Doctor.” He said, eyes softening as he looked over at the other man. As much as he hated to admit it… he’d missed this Doctor. This was the Doctor who had truly believed that he could be better - who had begged the Master to travel with him, even while he’d been holding him captive. (But he tried to convince himself that most of the reason he’d missed this Doctor was because he was pretty.)

It took the Doctor a moment to realise that he was looking at his old friend. Considering where he was in his timeline… it was painful, for a moment, but it filled him with hope. “Master.” He breathed, before a grin broke out on his face. “You’re alive.”

“Obviously.”

“How? You refused to regenerate, I held you as you died-”

Ah, so that’s where he was from. Well, if he thought this resurrection was a shock, he’d be even more surprised at all the ones that were to come.

“I know. And you cried.” The Master’s eyes sparkled with mischief - he was taunting him, and enjoying it - and the older Doctor rolled her eyes and pushed him back a few steps by a hand on his chest. He seemed to have momentarily forgotten about her, as all his attention was now fixed on the other Doctor. (If only she ever gave him her attention in the way that he gave her his.) But she was glad for the opportunity to move herself away from the doors.

“Of course I did.” The Doctor murmured, and the Master was slightly taken aback by the emotions in his voice. That one sentence alone was so different to the way that his Doctor would have answered, and he’d almost forgotten what felt like to be looked at with such love. He spoke as if it were something obvious - of course he cried, why would the Master even consider that he wouldn’t? And why would he ever assume that it’s something he would be ashamed of? “You’re my oldest friend.”

The Master sucked in a breath and paused as he stared at him, and the older of the two took the opportunity to speak up.

“We crash landed, and now we can’t go anywhere until they clear up the radiation.” She said, and the other Doctor nodded in response.

“You can wait in here. Wasn’t planning on leaving yet anyway.” He took a few steps back to give them room to come in. It was probably a bad idea - you shouldn’t cross your own timestream, they both knew that. It was one of the first things they taught you at the academy. But the female Doctor had done this before - she’d met past versions of herself, and even had thirteen incarnations all converge on Gallifrey, so she had a feeling that simply sitting in the same TARDIS wouldn’t be too big of a deal. But the other Doctor hadn’t done this before, and he didn’t know if it was safe.

But he’d still offered, because getting to see the Master again was worth the risk of ripping the universe apart.

As the two of them walked inside, their faces were graced with fond smiles. They’d both regenerated in this TARDIS, a long time ago, and that meant they were strangely attached to this layout. (Since this wasn’t his own TARDIS, it was considerably stranger for the Master to like it in the way he did.)

“So, I become you? How do I end up like that?” The Doctor asked, gesturing towards her. He was mainly referring to the rainbow, they both knew.

“Don’t know - I just quite liked it.” A pause, and then she smiled and ran her fingers over the lapels of his trenchcoat. “But I missed that coat. Missed it enough that I went and got one that felt similar.” She held the material of her jacket away from her body for a second as she looked down at it. “What do you think?”

He looked her up and down, then put his hands in the pocket of his own coat. “I like mine better.” But he had to admit, she looked good in that one. Though he’d always have a soft spot for this particular outfit.

Meanwhile, the Master had wandered over the back of the room, and was leaning against a doorframe, half in the console room and half in the hallway. “Are neither of you going to offer to make me a cup of tea?” He asked, promptly vanishing down the hallway, and the Doctors instantly ran after him. After all, it wasn't a good idea to let the Master run wild in their TARDIS. (Though hopefully he’d understand that the Doctor’s past was not to be meddled with.) “I made you and your pets tea when you were in my TARDIS.” They may not have known it was a TARDIS at the time, but it still counted.

The Doctor didn’t seem to understand that last comment since he didn’t have any context for it, so he hoped that it meant the two of them were working together. Or that they had worked together, at some point. (Why else would she take her companions into his TARDIS?)

When her younger self glanced at her with that hopeful and ever so optimistic look in his eyes, the Doctor knew exactly what he wanted. Some time alone with the Master would make him feel so much better after having to watch him die, even if he wouldn’t remember it. And who was she to deny a grief stricken man a few minutes of happiness? (Because no matter what happened, this Doctor would always be happy simply to spend time with him.)

“I’ll go make some.” She offered, and she was gone before either of them had a chance to thank her. (Not that the Master would’ve even thought to thank her for anything.)

The Master may have only been on the TARDIS once while it had this layout, but after he’d regenerated he’d taken the time to have a good look around. Now, he was especially glad for that, because he was able to easily locate a room with a comfy looking sofa, a fireplace, a table, and a tv. There was a bookshelf in the back corner of the room, and all of those things put together gave the place a calming atmosphere.

It took the Doctor a few minutes to find them again when she was returning with three cups of tea carefully balanced on a tray, but she really didn’t mind. After all, she was still angry with the Master, and every moment without his presence was a gift. She hated him. (And as soon as she calmed down, she’d go back just hating that she loved him, instead.)

When she walked back into the room, what she saw surprised her. The Master was curled up at one end of the sofa, and the Doctor was hugging him, resting his chin on the top of the other man’s head. At first, she wondered why they were sitting in silence, but when her eyes landed on the Master’s tear stained face, she understood. They’d been talking, she supposed - having a proper heart(s) to heart(s).

Her tenth incarnation had seemed to be the happiest of all of them, though he carried so much pain and regret in hearts. He’d simply learned how to hide it, though he had occasionally let pure anger shine through. When he’d saved the humans on Mars and declared himself the Time Lord Victorious, he’d leaned into the rage; let it fuel his actions, and for a brief moment, he’d felt powerful. It had been the same feeling that had flashed through him when destroying Gallifrey, though he hadn’t wanted to admit it. (It had made him swear to never hurt anyone again, because he knew that inflicting pain could be addictive, and he wasn’t always as strong as he wanted to be.)

So when The Oncoming Storm dropped his usual grin and turned his anger on someone, it would make them run. (He’d use this track record to save Missy one day, and the Doctor could firmly say that was the only good thing to come of it.)

But now, some of that anger was turned towards his future self. “What did you do to him?” He mouthed, fixing her with a death glare that would’ve made anyone else take off running. Instead, she simply gave him an exasperated eye roll.

Whatever the two of them had talked about while she was out of the room, it had obviously been painful, if it had made the Master break into tears so easily. (Although he had always been worse at keeping his emotions in check.) But then, she thought, he had almost looked like he was going to cry on the hologram he left her, so maybe it was easier to make him cry than she’d expected.

Or maybe, said a voice in the back of her head, he told him the secret that had seemed to shake him to his very core. Maybe I knew the secret that forced him to destroy our planet hundreds of years before he even did it.

But the Doctor was still looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer, so she pushed all speculation to the back of her mind and tore her eyes away from the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. Looking at the two of them sitting like that was painful, anyway. (It made her wonder if she could’ve avoided their recent problems by simply sitting him down and offering him a hug.)

“He burned Gallifrey.” She whispered by way of explanation (it wasn’t what he’d asked, but it was meant to prove that he deserved the way she had treated him - the way that she had given up on him.) Her words were quickly followed by a sigh.

Seeing them like this - upset, angry, and finding comfort in each other - made her realise that she truly was the Doctor who gave up. She’d fought for justice where she had needed to, but as soon as the Master had appeared she’d tried to stop him by any means necessary. At least his other incarnations had gotten an inspiring speech about how to be a good person before she’d convinced herself that there was no saving them. Maybe she should’ve tried harder to emotionally connect with him, this time round.

Her younger self didn’t seem surprised by the revelation about their planet, so she assumed that he had already told him.

“So did we.”

Well, he had a point there.

He wasn’t suggesting that the Master was right for what he did, but he was saying that he deserved a second chance. (Though it was more like his twentieth.)

This Doctor had always tried to connect with the Master - he’d taken every opportunity to try and bond with him, even when trapped in a cage - and now that he was finally reciprocating, he’d never been happier. Finally, it felt like he had his friend back, even though he’d used their time apart to do unspeakable things. (Maybe even because of it.)

Now… they had something in common, and it was the rage and pain in their hearts.

A soft clinking sound filled the room as the Doctor placed her tray on the table and came to sit next to them, with her cup of tea in hand. Neither of the other two made a move to reach for the ones she’d brought them, not wanting to break the closeness between them, in case they never had another chance to be like this with one another.

Sipping at her tea, the Doctor watched as her past self slowly stroked the Master’s hair, and she found that even just watching the action was relaxing. After a moment, one hand held the cup steady as she balanced it on her leg, and her other was reaching out to touch the Master; to rub comfortingly at his arm, even as he refused to look at her.

Despite the damage they had caused, she was suddenly glad for their crash landing. If it hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t have had the much needed reminder that, no matter what, the Master was a man who could be saved.

#thirteenth doctor/dhawan!master #dhawan!master #thirteenth doctor #the master (dhawan)#tenth doctor #tenth doctor/dhawan!master #thoschei #spydoc #best enemies #thirster #thirsacha #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #my fic #the doctor x the master #thirteenth doctor x dhawan!master #fan fiction #fic

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crescentmoon223 · 4 years

Text

Chicken Soup for Your Soulmate

It started with a cough and ended with a kiss (aka how Mulder cared for Scully when she was sick)

For the @xfilesfanficexchange Fluffy February exchange, I received a prompt from @gaycrouton, asking for “Scully catches a cold, and Mulder takes care of her.” I hope you enjoy it, Nicole! xx

Set during season 7, shortly after Millennium.

Read it on AO3.

Mulder tapped the tail of his tie against his belt, fidgeting with it to occupy his hands—and his concentration—while Scully turned away, covering her mouth to muffle her cough. Overhead, a tinny voice announced a gate change for a flight to Seattle. All around them, people hurried by, suitcases in tow. Another day. Another airport. Another journey back to DC after making a mess of things in the field.

“You okay, Scully?” he asked.

“Fine, Mulder,” she said, but her voice was hoarse.

He looked at her, noting the slight flush of her cheeks and the glossiness in her eyes. Dammit. No wonder she had been so quiet today. She was coming down with something and being her usual stoic, stubborn self. She hadn’t complained when she had cancer, so of course she wouldn’t make a fuss about a head cold. They’d board soon, and he knew from past experience how miserable it was to fly while congested.

He also knew the withering look he’d receive if he tried to dole out medical advice to his favorite medical doctor. Sometimes with Scully, actions were better received than words.

“Be right back,” he told her. “I’m going to stretch my legs before we board.”

She nodded, pulling a book out of her briefcase.

He made a pit stop in the men’s room before heading to the gift shop. He walked to the selection of travel-sized toiletries and medications along the back wall and grabbed a small box of Sudafed before perusing the snacks. Automatically, he snagged a bag of sunflower seeds for himself. Choosing something for Scully was more difficult. What would sound good to her while she was sick but still be healthy enough that she wouldn’t turn her nose up at it?

Of course, he could have just asked her what she wanted, but he’d wanted to surprise her with a thoughtful gesture. It had been weeks now since their New Year’s Eve kiss. Their first kiss. It had altered the dynamic of their partnership in an unspoken way, like an extra file wedged into the already overflowing cabinet in their basement office, once that announced, “You kissed, and you both liked it” in big, red letters.

So far, neither of them had been bold enough to make the next move, or even to address their millennium kiss. But he was thinking about it almost every time he saw her. Hell, he was thinking about it most nights at home alone in his bed. He’d been thinking about kissing her for years.

He’d been thinking about it that night he walked in on her and Eddie Van Blundht about to make out on her couch. She thought it was me. She would have kissed me. He’d been thinking about it that fateful afternoon in the hallway outside his apartment when their lips had been moments from touching before that damned bee stung her and sent him to Antarctica to save her. She would have kissed me then too. He’d sure as hell been thinking about it when he kissed that alternate version of her onboard the Queen Anne back in 1939. Not knowing if he was about to die, his last wish had been to kiss her.

He selected a cup of fat free honey-flavored yogurt. It wasn’t quite the same as her bee pollen, but hopefully she would like it. Honey was supposed to be soothing on a sore throat, wasn’t it? Two bottles of water completed his purchase.

She’d been more reserved with him since their New Year’s Eve kiss, as if she felt the subtle shift in their relationship as acutely as he did and wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. That made two of them. They were nothing if not masters of tiptoeing around their emotions.

He paid for his purchases and walked back to the row of seats where he’d left her. She sat, black blazer unbuttoned to reveal the gray shirt she wore beneath, focused on her book. As he dropped into the seat beside her, she looked over at him, eyebrows lifting slightly as he held the Sudafed, water, and yogurt in her direction.

“Thanks,” she murmured, putting down her book to accept his offerings.

“Didn’t want to listen to you cough all the way home,” he joked, immediately wanting to smack himself on the forehead, because he’d happily listen to her cough if it meant he was beside her.

She rolled her eyes at him as she popped a pill out of the pack and washed it down with a swig of water before opening the yogurt, and he felt smugly pleased about his purchases.

There was a fine line with Scully, not enough or too much. Over the years, he’d tended to walk on the safe side of that line, but lately, he found himself wanting to cross it.

“Got plans this weekend?” he asked, leaning back in the too-small plastic seat and crossing one leg over the other.

“I imagine my weekend will involve a lot of tea and Sudafed,” she said, holding up the package with a wry smile. She sounded even more congested than she had a few minutes ago. Whatever she’d picked up, it was hitting her hard and fast.

“Any interest in a Twilight Zone marathon?” he asked, imagining them sitting together on her couch, watching his favorite show as he brought her tea and wrapped her in a big, soft blanket.

“Pass,” she said.

“Flight 7921 with nonstop service to Washington DC is now boarding from gate two,” the tinny voice overhead announced.

“That’s us, Mulder.” She tucked the bottle of water and Sudafed into her briefcase before standing to throw away the empty yogurt container.

He rose, resting his hand against the small of her back as they walked to their gate, pondering his next move, just how far over that line he wanted to step once they were back home in DC.

* * *

A knock at the door jarred Scully from a restless, feverish sleep. She groaned as she dragged herself upright on the couch, registering the dull ache in her bones, the heavy pressure in her sinuses, the rawness in her throat as she swallowed.

God, she hated being sick. And she definitely did not want to see one of her neighbors right now. Hopefully there wasn’t a medical emergency in the building, because she wasn’t exactly in top form, but such was the life of a doctor.

She stood, tightening the belt of her robe around her waist as she walked to the door. A quick peek through the peephole revealed the only non-neighbor who had access to her building: Mulder. They’d exchanged keys years ago, a necessity in their constantly upended lives.

She unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Mulder, what are you doing here?”

“Brought chicken soup,” he said, holding up a plastic bag. “And a few other things I thought you might like. I can just drop them off and go if you don’t want company.”

She motioned him in, less annoyed than she would have anticipated about him intruding on her sick day. “What other things?”

With that signature Mulder grin, he walked to her kitchen table and emptied the contents of his shopping bags, revealing a large container of soup, a blue bottle of Gatorade, and a package of popsicles, plus some decongestant and cough drops.

She felt a little pinch in her chest that had nothing to do with the germs currently doing war inside her body and everything to do with the man standing in front of her. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”

“Want me to warm you up a bowl of soup?”

“Actually, that sounds perfect.” She hadn’t eaten much of anything today, mostly dozing on the couch in a miserable stupor.

He shooed her out of the kitchen. “Go sit down. I’ve got this.”

“Okay,” she acquiesced, too tired to argue. As she walked to the couch, he was already putting the popsicles in her freezer, moving effortlessly around her kitchen, a reminder of just how much time they’d spent together over the years.

She curled up on the couch, tucking her feet into her robe, trying to get warm. When was the last time she’d had someone here to take care of her when she was sick? She couldn’t remember. If pressed, she would have insisted she didn’t want to be taken care of. She was perfectly fine on her own, always had been, always would be.

But then there was Mulder, carrying a steaming bowl of soup into the living room, looking so happy to be useful, and really, where was the harm in letting him fuss over her, just this once?

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked as he set the bowl on the table in front of her.

“No, thank you.” She took another dose of the cold medicine she’d left there before reaching for the bowl of soup. “I notice you didn’t bring your Twilight Zone tapes with you.”

“I can take a hint,” he said, sitting in the chair across from her.

“Occasionally,” she said with a smile. She sipped the soup, savoring the warm broth as it slid over her sore throat. “Mm, that’s good.”

“I’m glad.”

She didn’t ask if he’d made it. She knew it was store bought. That wasn’t the point. He’d given up whatever conspiracy chasing he’d had planned on this sunny Saturday to bring her soup.

They made idle conversation as she ate, and then he brought her empty bowl to the sink. His cell phone rang, and he answered it in the kitchen, talking in hushed tones. Probably the Gunmen or someone else with a lead for him to chase. Her eyelids were getting heavy again. She lay down, pulling the throw blanket over herself. Mulder could show himself out after he got off the phone. As she closed her eyes, she realized she felt a bit better with a belly full of warm soup.

She woke to the sound of the television, the sharp blast of a whistle and the cheer of a crowd. She squinted through bleary eyes to find Mulder kicked back in the chair beside the couch, feet on the coffee table as he stared intently at the TV.

“You’re still here?” she croaked before dissolving in a fit of coughing.

“Got nowhere else to be,” he said, transferring that intense gaze from the football game to her.

She sat up, swiping at her eyes as the coughing eased. Somehow, he managed to look perfectly at home on her blue and white striped chair that was way too small for his oversized, lanky frame. He wore a long-sleeved Jets T-shirt with well-worn jeans, and if he looked handsome in a suit and tie, it had nothing on casual weekend Mulder. She had the irrational urge to curl up in his lap and rest her head on his chest, to feel his heart beating against her cheek and the warmth of his arms around her.

Where had that come from? Shaking her head at herself, she stood and went down the hall to the bathroom. When she made it back to the living room, he had a popsicle in each hand.

“Grape or cherry?” he asked.

“Cherry,” she answered, extending a hand.

He handed her the red popsicle, sitting on the couch beside her to eat them. “Feeling any better?”

“Maybe a little,” she said, although it might have more to do with his presence than a lessening of her symptoms.

“Want me to turn that off?” he asked, waving his popsicle in the direction of the TV.

“No, it’s fine.” She shifted closer to him as she ate, sighing gratefully as the icy treat soothed her throat. When she finished, he took the stick from her and leaned forward, setting it with his on a coaster on the table.

“Need anything else?”

She shook her head, suppressing a smile as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Gradually, she relaxed into his embrace, letting her side press against his, warming her through her robe. And then, because she couldn’t quite help herself, she rested her head against his shoulder.

He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, an unusually tender expression on his face. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

Her brow wrinkled. That was an odd thing for him to say.

“Been thinking about this a lot,” he said. “You know, since New Year’s Eve.”

Ah, the kiss they’d been dancing around for weeks now. This wasn’t exactly the best time to bring it up, but she doubted he was about to. They were both familiar with the steps to this dance, side stepping the things they didn’t want to address, instead sharing their feelings without words.

“Me too,” she whispered.

And that was that. He sat and watched football as she dozed on his shoulder, relaxed and comfortable, happier than she’d felt in a while, confident that this roundabout dance would eventually bring them together.

It was late when he finally stood to leave. “Want company again tomorrow?”

“Not particularly,” she told him, feeling the twitch of her lips that belied her words.

He clutched his heart in mock affront. “Your loss.”

“Thanks for today,” she said, gripping his hand in hers.

“Anytime, Scully.” His teasing smile faded as his gaze dropped to her lips, and something warm fluttered to life inside her that had nothing to do with her fever.

If she hadn’t been sick, she would have kissed him. She wanted to so badly. But since she ought to keep her germs to herself, she went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his cheek. His hands landed on her waist, and his face turned, bringing their lips together for a sizzling moment before she stepped backward out of his arms.

“Germs,” she whispered, heart racing and a giddy smile on her face.

“Worth the risk.” He winked, backing toward the door. “So, same time tomorrow?”

Her smile widened. “See you tomorrow.”

#XFFluff2020 #fanfic #xf fanfic #MSR #Fluff #Sickfic

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