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translations-by-aiimee · 2 years

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Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 46

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 46

The girl simply pulled up a chair and sat down, and said inexplicably: "There are other things. Grandma said that before I was born, many people from Beijing went to the tomb and hired people from the town. And then I don't know what happened but they dispersed without a result, and the people who came back were so frightened that they said. . ." The girl pretended to be mysterious and approached Lin Yan's ear, lowering her voice, "It's haunted."

"Yo, it's not far away, you're not haunted, are you?" Yin Zhou teased her.

The little girl rolled her eyes in disdain: "Our store has good feng shui, otherwise why would you rush to come here?"

The girl babbled and talked a lot. Whose children met zombies in the wild, whose house was haunted by weasels*, which man came back from work and was tortured by ghostly things all night. Everything she mentioned, Lin Yan heard. He always suspected that Xiao Yu was a village official who had been conscientiously frightening ignorant people for decades.

*(T/N: In China, it is considered bad luck to kill a weasel, as they're said to be wandering spirits (shen) that can steal and replace people's souls; killing them brings bad luck or death to the killer and their family.)

The wild cat on the roof let out a cry. The night was getting deeper and deeper. These people weren't in the mood to listen to her nonsense anymore and went back to their rooms to sleep.

The room was on the second floor. Its layout was simple. The door smelled musty. The place wasn't big; there was only the bed, wardrobe and a TV that who knows how many years old it was. There were beer cans on the window sill. The window pane is wooden, painted with green paint, and a faded ribbon wind chime is hanging on it. Lin Yan opened the window for ventilation, and the brass bell was blown by the wind, clattering.

The white porcelain basin in the bathroom had not been used for a long time and is caked with a layer of scale.

"The place is broken, can you make do with it?" Lin Yan asked.

"All I need is you here with me."

Lin Yan nodded tiredly and turned off the lamp.

"Go to sleep. I'll unpack my things tomorrow. I'm tired from running around all day."

The mountains were damp, and the damp quilt was heavy on his body. In the little moonlight, the mildew on the walls looked like a group of large moths. Lin Yan tossed and turned and couldn't sleep. He got up and leaned on the bed to smoke, one hand casually ruffling Xiao Yu's hair. The ghost's eyes were closed. His black hair flowed behind him, his skin showing a sickly bluish white.

Lin Yan looked at his face, and suddenly a thought flashed in his mind. What did he look like when he died? Wearing a white scholar's uniform, blood pouring out, his face gradually losing its colour, his lips turning purple. He was lying in the coffin alone, his skin grew corpse spots, rotting, and oozing thick yellow corpse fluid, and the bones were vividly visible.

He shuddered at his own imagination.

The room was so quiet that you could hear the wind whistling through the mountains, and the water tank in the courtyard was bubbling. Xiao Yu caught Lin Yan's hand and said softly: "What she talked about, I didn't do it."

Lin Yan smiled: "I know, my nobleman's son is a ghost with modesty."

Xiao Yu dragged him under the blanket. Lin Yan snuffed out the cigarette in his hand and turned back to kiss the ghost's lips. Their legs were entwined and rubbed against each other, and the kiss was so urgent that he couldn't control it.

Something hard pressed against Lin Yan's legs, and Xiao Yu stared at him in the dark like his eyes were on fire.

"Do you want to?"

Xiao Yu asked Lin Yan to turn his back to him. He clasped his waist with both hands, burying his cheeks in his neck, moaning and then he stopped moving.

Lin Yan stroked along his fingers: "Just one time."

"That won't be enough."

The two looked at each other and smiled helplessly. They calmed down after a while, hugged each other and slowly fell asleep.

It was cloudy and raining. The dog that was lurking somewhere was barking desperately. Lin Yan broke out of Xiao Yu's arms and pulled his shoes to open the door to go downstairs. There was no one on duty at the service counter on the first floor. A short distance across the street was the wilderness. The mountains in the distance were dark, the moon couldn't be seen at all, and there were unknown little white flowers blooming everywhere.

Lin Yan walked forward unconsciously. He always felt that someone was waiting for him in front of him. As he walked, a lone light appeared in the wilderness. It was a lonely house. The old-fashioned windows were covered with white paper, revealing a long dark shadow, resembling a man with drooping shoulders, hung from the window lattice and looked out.

He immediately remembered the girl's words and quickened his pace to go around. When he reached the door of the bungalow, the door suddenly opened. A rural couple came out and slowly waved to Lin Yan. The woman's hair was twisted into braids and the man was thin and tall. Their faces were extraordinarily pale, and their movements were slower than normal. Lin Yan didn't dare to stop, so he lowered his head and trotted up.

Surrounded by mountains, the shadow of the town could no longer be seen. There was no one around.

The wormwood grass was getting higher and higher, and the road became difficult to walk on. Lin Yan broke a branch and held it in his hand. He crossed a large field of wild sorghum and came to a flat wasteland. Right in front of him, there was a large coffin more than half a person tall. The coffin, soaked in rain, reflected the wet white light.

He knew this black coffin, sealed with 64 copper nails, made of golden silk, and immortalized for thousands of years.

A strike of lightning flashed. The coffin suddenly opened, and a figure sat up silently, wearing a bright red and purple burial costume, black hair drooping, and a pair of malicious eyes staring straight at Lin Yan.

It was Xiao Yu.

Lin Yan couldn't help taking a deep breath. Why was Xiao Yu here? He thought in confusion while picking up his pace by a few strides, could it be that he saw him going out and waited here on purpose? Or. . . was he simply calling him here?

The face of the person in the coffin was pale as if it had been painted with powder, but his lips were a sickly red, and his blue-white fingers tightly grasped the sides of the coffin. Seeing Lin Yan step forward, the corners of his mouth pulled upwards, revealing a strange smile.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time. . ." His voice was raspy and slow. Every word he said was accompanied by a strange hissing sound as if there was a leak somewhere.

Lin Yan used his sleeve to wipe the rain from Xiao Yu's face and heartily gathered the soaked black hair together.

"I'm here, aren't I? Let's go. Come back with me."

Xiao Yu smiled grimly in the night. His cold hands clasped Lin Yan's neck like a metal claw. He suddenly felt that something was wrong, but the hands on his neck tightened even more.

"Look at me, Lin Yan. Look at what I really look like."

Lin Yan's eyes widened in horror. The ghost's face slowly changed. Green corpse spots began to grow and his lips began to rot, revealing white teeth. Because the muscles at the corners of his mouth were atrophied, he seemed to be smiling all the time. Strands of hair hung down, and his skin was heated like wax and began to drip down.

A soft object fell in Lin Yan's hand, and when he looked down, he saw it was an eyeball.

His skin felt like it was being stabbed by thousands of needles. Lin Yan wanted to push Xiao Yu away, but when his hand touched his shoulder, he slid away. His muscles were like rotten soap, soft and slippery. Just a touch would sink in. . .

Lin Yan shouted loudly, shouting Xiao Yu's name indiscriminately and struggling hard. The hand on his neck had become a withered bone, but his strength was unbelievably strong. The skeleton approached him, and his voice became high-pitched: "See what I really look like!"

"Go away. . . go. . ." Lin Yan gritted his teeth. His chest felt stuffy, like a sack of rice was pressed against it, and he couldn't move.

"Lin Yan, wake up!"

Someone was shaking his shoulder hard.

Lin Yan struggled to open his eyes. What he thought was a shout was just a mindless murmur. The light of the lamp was warm. Xiao Yu's face came into view up close, his eyes concerned. The image of the skeleton in the dream world came to the surface. Lin Yan jerked up and rolled backwards, cowering in a ball against the head of the bed.

"Go away." He said aggressively. The nightmare was really unlike anything he'd had before. His clothes were wet with cold sweat, and they clung to him coldly.

Xiao Yu pulled Lin Yan's arm from around his knees and held him in his arms despite the resistance. He soothingly kissed the side of his face. It took a while for the man in his arms to stop shaking. He still lowered his head, not daring to look at him

"A nightmare?"

Lin Yan nodded and said hoarsely: "I. . . I dreamed of a coffin, and you, you. . ."

"What I looked like after death." Xiao Yu calmly said.

"How did you know?"

Xiao Yu was silent for a moment then said softly, "Lin Yan, you're very afraid of me. You often show that expression, as if I would suddenly become an evil demon mandrill, the god of plague, or something else."

"If you don't want to see it tomorrow, don't go. I became a pile of bones long ago. After watching this, I don't know how many nightmares you'll have again."

"I didn't mean that. Don't think too much about it. . ." Lin Yan awkwardly tried to hug Xiao Yu, but he quietly avoided it.

The two lay side by side on the bed, each thinking about their own thoughts. Lin Yan stared at the ceiling. The mildew on the wall seemed to be magnified in the darkness. He heard Xiao Yu sigh, but he didn't know what to say to comfort him. The old-fashioned window frame couldn't close tightly, and the wind got in through the crack of the window, making a rustling sound.

"Are you asleep?"

"No."

"Let me tell you a story."

The ghost didn't answer. Lin Yan said softly to himself: "It's a famous ghost story about a couple climbing a mountain with their friends. Halfway up the mountain, the girl couldn't walk and decided to let the rest go up the mountain first. She stayed at the camp and waited. Unexpectedly, an avalanche occurred soon after everyone left. The girl waited for seven days with fear and trepidation. When she thought there was no hope, she suddenly saw a group of people returning from the blizzard. It was her friends, but among the group of people, the only thing missing was the girl's boyfriend."

"The friends told the girl that her boyfriend had died in the avalanche. The girl was heartbroken. Three days later, everyone gathered around the campfire to keep warm. A man with blood on his face suddenly rushed out of the mountain. It was the girl's boyfriend. As soon as he grabbed the girl's hand, he said: 'We encountered an avalanche on the mountain. Everyone else died. I'm the only one who survived.'"

"Tell me, who is the one who died?"

Xiao Yu turned his back to Lin Yan and continued: "What do you think?"

"I don't know." Lin Yan sighed. "But if it were us instead, I'd go with you."

The ghost didn't answer. Lin Yan rested the side of his face on Xiao Yu's back. This time he didn't hide and let him hold him.

"I don't know what will happen this time, but no matter what the circumstances are, let me choose, and I will choose you." Lin Yan grabbed Xiao Yu's shoulder and whispered embarrassedly: "Turn around and sleep. I'm a little bit afraid of you. . . But when I can't see your face, I'm even more afraid."

Xiao Yu chuckled. He turned around and pressed his forehead against Lin Yan's. He reached out his hand and pinched his face: "Wait and see what you do when you turn into a skeleton."

"Boil a big pot of bone broth." Lin Yan put his chin on Xiao Yu's shoulder with a smile. "Nurturing and nourishing. . ."

Before he could finish speaking, the smile on his face suddenly froze.

There was a face outside the window. A white and blue face was quietly staring at them. It was round, wearing an empty earthy yellow robe, and its head was tilted to one side. Seeing Lin Yan looking at him, the corners of his mouth were pulled upward in a strange smile. It disappeared in a flash.

Outside the window, only the ink-like night and the whistling wind remained.

Lin Yan pointed out the window and was speechless for a long time. Xiao Yu frowned. He couldn't help the thumping in his heart.

Ten minutes later, Yin Zhou, the little Daoist priest and Lin Yan gathered on the dirt road in front of the hotel and looked around. The group was drowsy. Yin Zhou was dragged from the bed by Lin Yan and took a dagger from under his pillow. He was only wearing shorts at the moment, standing on the empty street looking a little dazed.

"Brother Lin Yan, did you fall asleep and get confused?" A-Yan asked suspiciously.

Lin Yan shook his head: "I haven't slept at all."

Yin Zhou changed his usual confusion and suddenly said, "Lin, what did you see?"

"The temple master. I'm sure it was his face. he found us." Lin Yan said. "We have to be careful. . ."

"No way." Yin Zhou stared at Lin Yan's face, "Think about it. You're staying on the second floor."

Lin Yan froze. After a while, he took off the slippers on his feet, glanced at the soles of the shoes, and said solemnly: "I had a nightmare just now. I dreamt that I went into the wilderness and saw a coffin. . . The problem is that these disposable slippers are from the hotel. I've never worn them before going out. How can there be mud and weeds on the soles?"

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #dig a grave to dig out a ghost #bl novel #chinese novel #english translation #chinese bl #danmei #danmei novel #yaoi smut #yaoi novel #yaoi

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vodkassassin · 3 years

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Hellooooo I heard that you are taking prompts!! May I propose crossdressing SQH? For the sect's mission or sth like that =))) and he pulls a very convincing disguise, with his knowledge as an author. Bonus if he can dance/sing/play instruments cuz I know he has it in him, being an overachiever he is (sorry for the rambling I just. Rly love him)

Don’t apologize! I love SQH too, so feel free to ramble away. My inbox is always open, even if you just want to gush about Shang Qinghua!

—

“Everything is set up correctly?” Yue Qingyuan frets.

And it really is fretting, the way that the man hovers over the group of peak lords that have gathered around the meeting table, almost like a hungry hummingbird scoping out its next meal. The man is normally much more composed than this, a bastion of calm amidst any crisis, and it’s making everyone else high strung as well, now that he’s slipped.

“For the last time, Sect Leader,” Shen Qingqiu grouses tiredly from where he sits, as slouched as he’ll ever get, fan open and so close to his face that it’s pressed against his cheek and causing his words to slur slightly. “We have gone over every possible contingency. Shang-shidi will be as safe as if he is still within our very own sect.”

“Yes, I know,” Yue Qingyuan murmurs, still gazing concernedly down at the multiple shafts of papers that they’ve got spread out across the entirety of the table. There’s a crease in between his brows, and Shen Qingqiu doesn’t really blame the man for being so worried, not really.

It’s a big operation, what they’ve got going on here. Complex, precarious, and it’s so incredibly important that they get every minute detail correct in their handling of the situation, or all of Shang Qinghua’s hard work, years worth of it, will go down the drain faster than someone can snap their fingers.

Despite carrying himself with the calm distance of an immortal master, leader of one of the greatest sects in all of China, Yue Qingyuan is the most ardent Big Brother Type that Shen Yuan has ever met in either of his lives. The man obviously cares about each and every one of his martial siblings, and it’s very apparent in the way that he gets anxious like this whenever one of them is put into a dangerous situation.

Given what the situation entails — and what exactly they’re dealing with here — Shen Qingqiu definitely doesn’t blame him for his hovering.

But, by the heavens, he’s ready to grab him by the shoulders and force him into a chair. He is fully prepared to sit on the man himself just to get Yue Qingyuan to be still for five seconds.

“Shang Qinghua is not new to work like this,” Mu Qingfang says soothingly. His calming demeanor is only broken by the way the doctor reaches out a second later to redundantly adjust the placement of one of the papers that litter the table. A nervous tick. “Out of us all, it’s him who has the highest chance of success. That’s why we chose him.”

“I know,” Yue Qingyuan says again, more firmly this time. He folds his hands behind his back and stands straight, gazing down at the table between them all. “However, given the matter at hand, your shixiong believes it prudent to ensure that every possible avenue of failure be closely examined.”

“More than we already have?” Ju Qingsong complains. He’s slumped entirely over the table, and has been for the last two hours. “Zhangmen-shixiong, this lord thinks that you’re really being a mother hen, here. Shang-shixiong’s done this sort of thing before. He’ll be fine!”

“It’s Shang-shijie now, Qingsong,” Qi Qingqi slyly announces, pulling the door to the meeting room open with a flourish. “And look, our martial sister! She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

“I still don’t see why it couldn’t have been you doing this,” Shang Qinghua grouches as he troops into the room behind her. “You’ve done stuff like this before, as much as I have, and you’re actually a girl.”

Shen Qingqiu turns away from the table, a word of good-nature’s ribbing ready at the top of his tongue, but he finds that he can’t deploy it. Not when his bro is standing right there and looking like a real, dainty and dignified young maiden of a noble, xianxia family.

The robes are what’s most shocking, at first, like a full frontal assault to what Shen Qingqiu has become used to in regards to his friend. Shang Qinghua prefers dark blues, indigos, and blacks, all in a durable and solid weave — so, to see him decked out in flowing silks of soft pastels and light trims and embroidery, is certainly a shock to the senses.

His hair is next on the list of differences, usually pinned up entirely in braids and a bun held together with sharp silver needles. Today, half of it falls down his back in a gentle wave, while the top half of it is carefully twisted up into a delicate looking hair ornament that sparkles subtly in the light of the night pearls that decorate the meeting hall’s ceiling.

All of this, paired with the tasteful arrangement of jewelry — earrings that accentuate his jaw in a way that makes it appear a softer line than it actually is, artful golden clasps around the crown of his head, with gemmed beads that hang on carefully positioned wires to frame the fall of his hair and make it look like a tumbling waterfall of golden waters — Shang Qinghua makes for a beautiful young mistress.

“Damn, bro,” he says, unable to stop himself.

Shang Qinghua turns and raises an eyebrow at him, and all Shen Qingqiu finds himself able to do is shoot his friend a thumbs up.

“Damn is right,” Ju Qingsong gives a low whistle, pushing himself up from the table. Both of his eyebrows have risen up to meet his hairline, and a large grin adorns his face. “Shang-shijie! You’re breathtaking! Isn’t she gorgeous, Qingsheng?”

Rong Qingsheng doesn’t answer the man. He’s too busy staring at Shang Qinghua with silent and intense eyes. Knowing what he does of the lord of the agricultural peak, Shen Qingqiu figures he’s busy cataloguing every minute detail of their martial brother’s — er, sister’s — new look.

Honestly, he doesn’t blame him at all. Shang Qinghua makes for a show-stopping beauty.

Seriously, what the hell?

“Didn’t I do such a good job?” Qi Qingqi preens. She reaches over and, with careful fingers, tucks a stray strand of hair behind Shang Qinghua’s ear.

The man ducks his head, slowly in mindfulness of his intricate up-do, but Shen Qingqiu is too busy having heart palpitations to make fun of him for it. From the way that his fellow martial brothers’ eyes have all widened imperceptibly, they’re having similar struggles.

Liu Qingge stands up from the table rather abruptly.

“Qi-shijie needs to go instead,” he demands, a scowl curving his brows downward.

Shang Qinghua lets out an exasperated puff of air and tilts his head back, chin rising up almost stubbornly, and it’s likely because he’s still not used to the added weight of the hair ornaments. What it does, though, is expose the curve of his neck, and Shen Qingqiu turns away from the sight of his bro entirely just to shoot their sect leader a look of trepidation. The man himself seems like his earlier anxieties have doubled.

“That’s what I said earlier!” Shang Qinghua complains, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s pouting, and oh god it makes the picture of him look all the more delicate. Has Airplane even seen himself in a mirror yet?! He needs to stop with the cute actions!

“I said ‘Qi-shimei is actually a girl! Like, we have an actual female peak lord, who doesn’t have to crossdress in order to sneak into the human trafficking ring to find their financial books!’” Shang Qinghua re-enacts, pout becoming even more pronounced. Shen Qingqiu is pretty sure that Liu Qingge’s grip on the table has just cracked the wood. “And you all were like, ‘But Shang Qinghua! You have more undercover experience!’ And I was like, ‘That’s bullshit!’ because you all know that Qi Qingqi’s peak actually specializes in espionage! Like, why is it always me that has to go undercover?! I’m An Ding! I deal with information networks, not field work!”

“Except, you do deal in fieldwork,” Mu Qingfang points out, gently. He sounds like someone has punched him in the gut. “Very often, in fact…. Zhangmen-shixiong, I-I don’t think—”

“That’s because you guys always make me go!” Shang Qinghua interrupts him, clearly needing to complain a bit more. “I mean, there are plenty of times I do it myself, sure, but that’s just because I know the job will be done right that way! But all the other times! Like now! Seriously, you guys, Qi Qingi is right there!”

“And we definitely should have listened to you, you’re right,” Shen Qingqiu says weakly, waving his fam in front of his face in the hopes that it’ll help with the faint flush he can feel assaulting his cheeks.

“It’s too late for second guessing,” Qi Qingqi says flippantly, shaking her loose hair behind her shoulders. “If we change things up now, the entire operation will have to be reworked from the ground up, and that’s just not possible with the time frame we have. If we want to take advantage of the opening we’ve been given to take down this trafficking ring, then we must proceed as planned.”

“I hate that I have to agree with you,” Shang Qinghua grumbles.

He takes a step forward, toward the table, and then stops, staring at his own chair with a complicated expression on his face. After a few moments, he sighs and looks up.

“All these layers are even more complicated than my peak lord formal attire,” he says, forlorn. “I… I have no idea how to sit down in them…. Shijie, help.”

Qi Qingqi cackles, loudly, before going forward and pulling the man’s chair out for him. She waves her hand at the seat and instructs Shang Qinghua on how to adjust his robes as he sits, and then goes on to comment that they will have to practice so that Shang Qinghua will be able to make the motions look flawless and befitting of the young noble lady that he will be impersonating.

None of the other peak lords move. They’re too busy looking anywhere but at the two shijie currently chatting away on the other side of the table. Well, Rong Qingsheng is studying them rather carefully, but that’s a given. Ju Qingsong is watching his friend with an amused (if wistful) expression, himself.

Shen Qingqiu shuts his fan with a flick of his wrist and lays his head down on the table, pillowing his eyes into his crossed forearms.

He supposes that he will have to resign himself to the unfortunate fate of actually worrying about his best friend while the other is gone, for the entirety of the mission. Airplane is just too pretty for his own good! It’s Shen Yuan’s job, as his bro, to be absolutely and wholeheartedly concerned about what might happen to him out there, especially in the situation he will be descending into.

Man, he really relates to Yue Qingyuan, now. Had the sect leader known just how pretty Shang Qinghua would be? Is that why he’d been so visibly apprehensive even from the beginning?

Shen Qingqiu thinks he might need a drink. He glances across the table, at Shui Qingyu, and finds that the brewery peak lord appears to be thinking the same. Their eyes meet, their expressions of dread nearly identical, and they share a nod.

Later tonight, they’re going to get drunk.

#svsss prompts #scum villain's self saving system #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #yue qingyuan #peak lords #Qi qingqi #crossdressing #going undercover #spywork #vodka answers #vodkassassin fanfiction #alicebaskerville stuff

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eggytranslations · 3 years

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Volume 1, Chapter 9-Family

Quick notes: I'm switching to one update every two weeks for now (sorry my schedule is really busy with new job) and will update on my twitter if I cannot make the biweekly Friday updates...o-(-( trying to rope another translator in, so we shall see how that goes! Chapter 10 and 11 are both pretty short so I think we should be good for those chapters. Okay on to the main course: enjoy!

Content warnings: n/a

For three straight days, the mountain villa became unusually lively yet again; it was all because the elder Young Master Shen had come back from the gates of death.

In the midst of this clamoring noise, Shen Qingxuan was as calm as usual. Dressed in a crescent white robe, he sat on the chair with a smile and easily accepted the concern that came from all directions. He nodded and listened attentively in a modest and well-mannered way while maintaining a cultured and refined manner.

This stirred another wave of pitying voices that all said, Such a good kid, and yet fate would tease in such a way.

Shen Qingxuan had already perfected an entire body of copper skin and iron bones towards these pitying words, so when he heard them, naturally, they did not hurt or itch. Yet these words stirred the thoughts of Mother Shen who was next to him. She shed tears several times, and yet she feared that Shen Qingxuan would be even more upset once he saw her, so she swiftly hid her face by turning away to wipe her tears.

How could these actions of hers hide from Shen Qingxuan’s sharp eyes. With the affinity between a mother and a child, Shen Qingxuan knew what she was thinking, so he also pretended that he did not see her and shifted his gaze onto other people.

When the banquet opened, Shen Qingxuan had the servant girl push him from the table to leave. Everyone knew that Shen Qingxuan’s body was frail and could not drink wine, simultaneously, he was still recovering from a serious illness so he could not accompany the guests and tax his mind. Thus, one after another, they urged him to rest well and waited for Shen Qingxuan to leave before they started toasting and drinking wine to their fill.

Shen Qingxuan returned to his room and listened briefly to the outside noise through his window lattice before he laughed bitterly to himself. Who knows how many times these kinds of banquets had been held, and who knows how many more times they will be held in the future. Who knows?

Even if Yi Mo helped him, and allowed him to be no different from any other person after this year, he, however, still did not know what hardships he would suffer in the future.

Feng shui fluctuated and worldly affairs were fickle.

Ever since he was resuscitated from the ice cave, Shen Qingxuan finally understood the meaning of these eight words that his father constantly uttered from his mouth.

Who could have expected that the gentle and mild beauty from a humble family, who had bashfully and timidly married into the Shen family for three years—his second mother, who previously cared for him extremely well, would employ someone to almost take his life?

He had never even considered it.

Even remembering it now, after so many years coolly observing as a bystander, the pain was just as fresh.

Right as he was lost in thought, there came the sound of a set of hurried footsteps from the courtyard. The footsteps were quite brisk and carried impatience as well as the unique heavy sound of an official’s boots. Shen Qingxuan’s gloomy eyes lit up slightly, the smile he always wore on his face also showed some sincerity.

“Gege!” The doors were suddenly pushed open, stirring up bits of dust. The sun shone in from the outside and revealed a clean-cut face in between the dancing dust particles. Because it was a meeting with family, that heroic and spirited face carried some of the rashness of a child.

When he saw his elder brother sitting on the chair and looking at him with an expression full of smiles, the young man was embarrassed all of a sudden. He quickly drew back his hand, and recovered a degree of steadiness before he said in greeting, “Gege.”

Shen Qingxuan beckoned with his hand, calling the man over to his side. Then he grabbed the man’s hand to pull down that tall body, flicked the man’s forehead with his finger out of habit, and said silently, I thought you had made some progress, how are you still this reckless.

Ever since childhood, Shen Zhen has been able to read his elder brother’s lips. He hastily used a hand to massage his unscathed forehead and harrumphed, “I wanted to be more reserved, but I was worried I would scare you into not recognizing me as your very own didi.”

Hearing this, Shen Qingxuan smiled while he stroked his brother’s neatly bound hair piece

, and asked, How did you have time to come see me today?

“Gege just recovered from a serious illness, how could I not come?” Shen Zhen squatted down with one hand propped on his elder brother’s leg and moved in front of him to act like a spoiled child, just like when they were children. His eyes were full of faith and dependence only possible between one’s flesh and blood, a bond thicker than water. Shen Qingxuan looked at this face that was remarkably similar to his second mother’s face, and could only feel tranquility in his heart. Towards this face that had stuck to his side from childhood, he really could not summon any hatred.

Even if he knew full well that he was reduced to this sorry state today all because of this person.

The second son of the Shen family, who had just turned one year old that year.

Master Shen had once held his eldest son with one arm and with his other arm, he cradled his second son who was still in his swaddling clothes, sucking on his thumb and quietly sleeping. Then he turned to his two wives and said, full of pride, “In the future, this eldest son of mine will bring honor to our Shen family and receive noble titles. When we get old in the future, the matters of our support and burials will depend on this little guy. In this way, the Shen family is basically perfect."

All the expectations in his words fell on Shen Qingxuan who was merely seven years old.

He only saw his eldest son’s intelligence and considered the Shen family status, but he never saw the smiles of his two wives who were standing in front of him, and how much reluctance and grievance was hidden in the smile on one of the two faces.

Why? Just because he was the second son, so he could only end up with a captive-at-home, mediocre, and nameless future for the rest of his life?

The woman was narrow-minded, and at the time, did not consider that each person had their own fate. If indeed her son worked hard, how could Master Shen disregard his son’s future? It was nothing more than careless words said in a moment of joy. Yet she took it seriously. She developed malicious intentions and harmed Shen Qingxuan for the rest of his life.

When she finally understood this, the transgression had already been committed.

With a pat on the back of the youth who laid on his knees, Shen Qingxuan looked at him as he said, After becoming an official, you have probably fallen behind on the sword and spear, no?

Shen Zhen shook his head at once. “There is no such thing. If gege does not believe it, we can go to the courtyard and I will perform for you.”

Shen Qingxuan laughed as he nodded, and Shen Zhen promptly got up to push him. The two brothers went out the doors of the room, stopping in the spacious area in the middle of the courtyard.

Shen Zhen retrieved a long staff, flashed a showy move, and said while holding the staff, “Gege look closely, didi is showing off the staff for you.”

Shen Qingxuan was still smiling a smile without restraint.

Seeing this, Shen Zhen also grinned. The wooden staff in his hand started to move around like a nimble snake. As he brandished the staff, it swept up a whistling wind, stirring dust in every which way and blurring light and shadow. When he struck the ground, it reverberated with a heavy sound, and with a great force, trenches appeared in the sandy yellow soil.

Shen Qingxuan watched closely, enthralled until a set of staff exercises were completed and he promptly clapped his hands, not at all hiding his desire to praise him.

After receiving his eldest brother’s praise, Shen Zhen became even more pleased with himself. He tossed aside the staff, picked up a spear, and flaunted another set of spear exercises for Shen Qingxuan to watch. It was slightly inferior to his staff technique, yet it still gave a vigorous feeling of strength.

The two brothers were in the courtyard, one person performing for the other to watch. They played until the red sun set into the evening, then Shen Qingxuan indicated for him to stop and called for a servant to bring over a wet cloth and hot tea.

Shen Zhen noisily downed a cup of tea, wiped the sweat from his face, then moved closer towards Shen Qingxuan again, and said, “Gege, do you have any advice?”

Shen Qingxuan cast a sidelong glance at him, What advice do I have for you?

Shen Zhen laughed mischievously, “Gege come on, dad said when you were little you liked to brandish spears and play with sticks. You even secretly took the martial arts teacher’s polearm to poke a bird’s nest and made the master really angry, do you dare deny this?”

Hearing this, Shen Qingxuan thought back and vaguely recalled some pieces, but could not remember more concrete details.

These old affairs from years ago, if Shen Zhen had not mentioned them, Shen Qingxuan could not have thought of them. Even though Shen Zhen mentioned them now, he still could not remember.

Occasionally, there were fragments that floated and flashed across his mind, but he did not think those things had happened to him.

Those past events felt faintly like a previous life, or perhaps an even more distant time ago, that was soaked by the yellowing of time into a sheet of brittle and thin paper, breaking with just one touch.

Fragmented and incomplete.

Shen Qingxuan’s expression slightly dimmed into gloominess.

Shen Zhen realized he misspoke and changed the topic at once. He tugged the hand Shen Qingxuan was resting on his knee, and said eagerly, “Gege, I get to visit the mountains for once, and you made me work this half-day. How about you play a board of chess with me?”

Shen Qingxuan roused his spirits and asked, What happens if you lose?

Shen Zhen rubbed his temples, then whispered near his elder brother’s ear, “Like old times?”

Shen Qingxuan became happier too and nodded in agreement as the two men went back inside.

They let the serving boys send the tea and pastries into the room. After everything was prepared in order, Shen Zhen fastened the doors and windows tightly and checked again if they were secure or not. It was like he was deeply afraid of someone discovering something and had the guilty expression of an uneasy thief. Watching this, Shen Qingxuan could not stop his muffled laughter.

The cushioned mat was spread out on the daybed and the two of them sat opposite each other. Shen Qingxuan wiped the chessboard again then took out the black and white pieces and asked, Like old times?

Shen Zhen nodded his head immediately, as if he was afraid that he would back out, and snatched the black pieces, putting down a piece first, then another piece, and then another piece again.

As soon as the chess game started, he snatched the black pieces and put down three of them.

Shen Qingxuan raised his brow and looked at him for a long moment, soundlessly chiding, You really have not grown at all.

Shen Zhen quickly countered, “You are the elder brother and older than me by seven years so you should actually have let me by seven pieces. Now it is only three pieces, my progress is already not small at all.”

Shen Qingxuan held the white piece as he put one down and ignored him.

Shen Zhen quieted down as well, observing the match and beginning to play seriously.

Shen Zhen took the advantage at the beginning, and in the time of one stick of incense, he had killed the game into a treacherous and hard to predict match. With sharp moves, he encircled a portion of Shen Qingxuan’s white pieces, feeling rather pleased with himself.

However, Shen Qingxuan did not even lift his head, and solely focused on placing his pieces. When the match had gone on for a period of two sticks of incense, Shen Zhen’s sharp peaks and edges were all chopped off to nothingness, not one was spared. Furthermore, White was like a dragon entrenched in a mountain range, biding its time to act, just waiting for a command so that it could seize the land in this game within an instant.

“Gege.” Shen Zhen wiped the cold sweat that did not actually exist from his forehead and said hastily, “Gege’s opening and closing were well considered with an impressive performance this match……” how about you spare didi this time?

He had not finished speaking before Shen Qingxuan, with a smile in his eyes, had already turned around to take the pen that was placed to the side. He filled the pen with ink and unhurriedly wrote: Do not flatter me. Lift your face up.

Shen Zhen instantly shut his mouth and handed over his face with misery.

A moment later, a big, crawling tortoise had been added to that handsome face.

Shen Zhen jumped down from the daybed and grabbed a mirror to look at his face. He moaned and groaned, “The more I flatter, the more lifelike this tortoise gets. So it is clear that this flattery still needs to be flattered, especially gege’s flattery.”

Shen Qingxuan impatiently patted the chessboard, saying, Again.

Shen Zhen had no choice but to return to his seat. He also carefully checked the windows to see if there were cracks so as to prevent any other people from seeing him. That would be so embarrassing.

Up until dinner time, the two of them still had the doors and windows tightly shut, unwilling to come out. All the servants waited outside because the people inside still had not allowed them to set up the dinner. This finally alarmed Master Shen.

When Master Shen heard that his sons refused to take their meals, he rushed over at once and stood outside the doors as he asked, “What kind of mishap have you two gotten into?”

Only after a moment did Shen Zhen’s voice come from the room, “Dad, I am playing chess with xiong zhang.”

At first, Master Shen was baffled, and then his face held back a strange expression. He stood for a minute before he waved away the crowd of servants. “You all go on first, keep the dishes warm, and bring them again in a double-hour.”

After he sent them all away, Master Shen leaned on the door as he said in a low voice, “Xuan’er, let dad come in and take a look.”

Immediately, sounds of frantic commotion came from behind the doors. Master Shen waited without a worry, and sure enough, his youngest son was no match for his eldest son. Shen Qingxuan pushed his wheelchair over and opened the door.

After he came inside and looked around, Master Shen headed towards the screen

, still using a benevolent voice, “Come out and let dad have a look.”

There was absolute silence from behind the screen.

“Do not be like a girl, come out and let dad see.” Master Shen continued to coax him.

Shen Zhen refused to come out.

Shen Qingxuan closed the door once again, wheeled over, and pushed down the screen. Shen Zhen did not expect his brother to do this, and had no chance to hide. On instinct, he held up the screen that almost fell and ducked out of the way.

In this split second, Master Shen had already seen the scene he wanted to see. He let out a “pft,” then immediately held it in again until his beard was shaking.

Shen Qingxuan also lowered his face while his shoulders could not stop quaking. Clearly, he was holding back quite desperately.

Shen Zhen stood there with his whole face covered in tortoises that either crawled or stood or rolled, not even his ears were spared. Each of his earlobes had their own tiny tortoise that stretched out their necks and kicked their legs.

Master Shen held his stomach as he pointed at Shen Qingxuan with a shaking finger and said breathlessly, “Y-you……your elder brother, is truly, i-im-im……proper.”

Shen Qingxuan raised his head immediately, and with his bright, black eyes, he stared unblinking at his diedie.

Father and son looked at each other for a minute, and then suddenly turned away from each other without warning. One of them gaped his mouth as he roared with laughter silently while the other man laughed until he nearly lost his breath.

At first, Shen Zhen was indignant and yelled at the two of them to stop laughing. Then he saw that neither of them could stop. They were bent down and clutching their chest as they laughed until they could not breathe, which frightened him into ignoring his own mortification. He quickly ran over to pat their backs with one hand each, and helped them catch their breath. He was deeply afraid that these two would laugh until they were sick.

But he did not realize that his elder brother and father, as soon as they turned their heads and saw that painted face with anxiety written all over it, were unable to stop even if they wanted to stop.

Furthermore, Shen Qingxuan almost laughed out loud several times, and could only bite his tongue as he swallowed down the sound that had risen to his larynx yet again.

His joy was also a joy of extreme difficulty.

In these twenty years, there has never been a time that was not burdensome.

#a snake encounter #yu she #su he #danmei #tl #eggytranslations

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yentotajaan · 3 years

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Prison Break

Yen’to was not feeling particularly enthusiastic about this latest job as he stood stewing in a cramped prison cell with four other compatriots. Khan’s latest caper involved getting arrested under false identities and crimes in order to break someone important out of prison. Why in Eorzea did I sign up for this, again? It might be easier to find someone who can grow a gil tree. Khan, in the guise of a guard, had overseen their processing; yet it had still not been particularly pleasant. Letting out a grunt of annoyance, Yen’to glanced around to take stock of the other fools who had been desperate enough to sign up. There were two who had helped with the castrum fiasco job: Strega and Aly. Well... I know they are capable. Strange, but capable. The other two were familiar but unknown: Fiona and Victor, associates of Aly in some manner. One is a patron at the bistro she works at and the other is a cook and waitress... Twelve help us.

As they discussed amongst themselves what the job might entail, Khan finally entered the holding area. According to him, they would be transported to a loosely run prison to find someone named the Jungle Broker. It seemed he was getting a bit too powerful for the comfort of some, and they wanted him out so they could find out what he knew. Or eliminate him? Whatever, our only concern will be to get him out or the information he has. They would need to rely on their wits to get this mission accomplished, since they were going in with nothing but the shoddy clothes on their backs. At least I thought ahead to change my hair and face paint. There is no way I am going to end up on a guild wanted poster and have Fable after me.

Now fully briefed, Khan escorted the ragtag group to the prison proper. It was unlike anything Yen’to had seen or heard of. The guards maintained a presence only at the tops of enormous walls, while the interior was nothing but crumbling buildings and criminals left to their own devices. In the time it took Yen’to to collect his thoughts, two prisoners had already been stabbed. Criminals policing themselves... wonderful. He warned the others to stick together as they tried to find their first contact. They did not have to wait long, since soon a very peculiar yet expected whistling tune caught their attention from nearby.

They cautiously made their way over to the source, which turned out to be a group of three women who were weaving. A sea wolf roegadyn spoke up, identifying herself as Khan’s contact. This feels almost too easy. Much to Yen’to’s annoyance, it quickly became clear that she did not know their target firsthand. Instead, she knew someone who did and directed them to a highlander male further in the prison who more assuredly would know where the Jungle Broker was. She claimed that he would not give up the information willingly, and that they would need to... coax it out of him. For Twelve’s sake - I knew this was too good to be true!

Off they went, armed with a new goal but little else. That soon changed, however, since the ground was littered with debris that could be used as makeshift weapons. Most of the frustratingly merry band picked up various bits of wood to use as makeshift clubs. Yen’to ignored the bounty and stayed weaponless; with his souring mood, he wanted to feel the impact if he had to go to the trouble of beating information out of someone. As they approached, the man in question stopped whatever he was doing and began to speak up - but he barely got the chance before Fiona was upon him, landing a hard blow with her board. The idiot! She is going to start a fight we might not have needed! The man reeled, his eyes bulging as if going into a rage. Unexpectedly, he instead burst into tears. Calls rang out among his friends who were observing from nearby, clamoring to defend whom they referred to as ‘Gentle Paul’. “Come on boys - let’s get ‘em!” Seriously?!

They fought off their attackers as best they could, some doing better than others. Yen’to had limited training in hand-to-hand combat training, but was disciplined enough to know when to fight with restraint. His opponent did not, and Yen’to easily ducked underneath a flailing fist to land a solid blow on the man’s groin in retaliation. The others in the group held their own well enough; Fiona was terrifying in her brutality, and Yen’to swore the prisoner about to hit Strega backed off with just a look. Gentle Paul’s friends limped away to leave the blubbering highlander to fend for hismelf. Yen’to could make out the sea wolf bellowing in the distance “And that is for turning me down!” Did we just... get used as revenge for spurned advances?

Yen’to felt a twitch in his eye - he hated being someone else’s unwitting pawn. His anger simmered further as Gentle Paul informed them that he did not know who the Jungle Broker was, but very certainly knew someone who likely knew someone else who knew who it was. Someone is going to end up with broken bones before we leave, I swear to the Twelve. With a heavy sigh, Yen’to and the others trudged off to the next obstacle who was supposed to be able to help them - which turned out to be a collection of rough looking adolescents.

Yen’to did not even bother trying to figure out why children would be in such a dangerous prison. It quickly became apparent, however, once one of the kids began bragging about all of the shanking he had doled out while introductions bizarrely proceeded. Is this really happening? Is this a nightmare? The kids claimed that they knew where the Jungle Broker was, but demanded a dance for their entertainment before they would give up the information. Deep breath.... they are just kids. Just do what they say so we can move on with this farce. Yen’to struggled to keep his anger in check as he and the rest were soon bobbing back and forth with their best attempts to comply - with mixed and awkward results.

After what seemed like an eternity, the youths seemed pleased and duly informed Yen’to’s group that they did not know who the Jungle Broker was, but knew someone who knew how to know where to find someone who would know. Did they... but we just - gods damn it! Gritting his teeth, Yen’to stormed off after the others in the appointed direction. Down some dark alleyway, they heard the voice of an old man calling out for them to come closer. Yent’to sensed a trap, but only Strega held back with him as the others blundered towards the source of the sound. You know what, they can go be idiot meat shields and then Strega and I can finish this up while they are bleeding out from stupidity.

From a second story window, an ancient Doman man named Shen hollered greetings down to them in a heavy accent. He said he had the information they required, but in return they would have to indulge in a review of a book he had written. Does everything here have a price? At least we have yet to be stabbed. The Doman lowered it down in a basket, and one by one they each read a passage from the book to give him their opinions.

Aly was as bubbly and positive as could be expected. I do not think she could be mean if her life depended on it. Strega was... confusingly technical, but so far it did not seem like it was that bad. I have no idea what she just said, but... good, I think? Victor’s reaction gave Yen’to pause, since he struggled to provide any sort of meaningful compliment. Someone only tries so hard to be technically correct when there is something to hide. Once it was Fiona’s turn, Yen’to watched in slowly dawning horror as she furiously called out the others for lying, following with a scathing review of how horrible the book was and how horrible everyone was for humoring the daft Doman; Strega was almost in tears for being called a liar. I see those giant ears of her take up all of the space in her head normally reserved for thinking. In a rage, the Doman demanded Yen’to finish the book and that he better have something good to say.

The last portion, as was the whole book, was absolutely horrendous. It took all of Yen’to’s remaining willpower to keep his expression neutral. A drunk goblin child could come up with something more coherent than this! He hated lying, so he copied Victor’s tactic, “Uh... the twist ending where the hero gets everything was perfect?” The Doman seemed pleased, and gleefully sent them on their way for what hopefully was the last hoop to jump through. If this is not the Jungle Broker, then someone is going to end up broken.

Rounding a corner, they came upon a highlander lounging on some crates. He looked highly amused as the group approached, and inquired mirthfully, “Why did you not just turn left from the gates? Would've taken you straight here!” Yen’to was not amused - his eye twitched again. Hold it together... we still need him alive. Although no one said about unhurt. The Broker affirmed that he was the one whom Khan had sent them to find, and that he also had prepared a plan for breaking out. Much to Yen’to’s chagrin, said plan involved starting a full blown riot. Upon the Broker’s signal, some prisoners began a fight which quickly flared into a maelstrom of shouting, fighting, and more than a few stabbings. If I die here, I am going to kill Khan!

The group struggled to make their way through the chaos with their escort in tow, fighting off guards and prisoners alike as they made a bee-line to the front gates. Making good on his promise from earlier, Yen’to managed to sidestep an incoming punch while grabbing the prisoner’s arm before jamming his knee up into the elbow to break the offending appendage - the prisoner howled and scrambled away. Completely done with this nonsense, Yen’to simply squared his shoulder and charged through the mass of bodies. Fiona battered her way through with her makeshift club, while Aly deftly used the thick skulls of the prisoners and guards as launching pads to get through to the gate. Victor used what looked like a combination of lightning and wind aspected aether to lift himself over the fray, and Strega.... had somehow charmed a prisoner to shank a path clear for her.

Khan was already waiting outside with a veritable flock of chocobos, all while prisoners spilled out all around them. The Jungle Broker quickly left with Khan, while the rest of the group grabbed the nearest available chocobo and fled in different directions.

Another mission complete. Hmph, despite the ‘help’ from the others. Well, except maybe Strega... who was somehow even more effective than the others despite not fighting. How does she do that? They had somehow managed to blunder their way to success, and that was all that really mattered.

@tough-bit-of-fluff

#ffxiv #rp #balmung #shenanigans #khaaaaaan #prison break

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out-of-context-charlie · 4 years

Text

(this is the first fic i have ever published so like it is totally self-indulgent and probably garbage but whatever here we are)

It was a rainy day in Dragon City.

On the darkened sidewalk, a pair of expensive shoes walked with purpose under a dark blue umbrella. Anybody else stupid enough to be out in the downpour steered clear of the man wearing them, hiding within their overcoats and hats to avoid his piercing glare. Eventually he stopped at a clunky brownstone at the edge of town. He looked up at it and then back down at the scrawl on the piece of paper in his hand to make sure he had the right place.

Zhao Yunlan wished he had not given up smoking. There was a certain beauty to watching smoke rise and curl in the dark gray light that a storm cast into his office. The sucker did not offer the same satisfaction and only added to his boredom.

He looked absently at his scuffed shoes propped up on the desk, streaking mud over the various “important” documents he was supposed to be going over. Under his heel was yet another letter from his father cursing him out for getting fired from the DCPD, or rather quitting in an extravagant fashion. He caused quite the scandal, the only son of Police Commissioner Zhao blowing the whistle on a cover-up involving a dirty cop.

Now here Zhao Yunlan sat in a converted shoe factory, the chief of his own dysfunctional precinct. Alongside him was a ratty bunch of investigators: one convict, a runaway, a crackpot scientist, and a street urchin who believed he could talk to cats. His secretaries couldn’t even read for shit. Some days he thought the only one qualified to be in this line of work was Old Li, the janitor. Not to mention taking cases for whatever street scum needed a favor that day.

There had been a whole host of characters who’d crawled through his door and if they could pay, he would shine their shoes. Like yesterday, he had finished up a case involving a prize fighter wanting to expose a murderous boss. Then he also had the better clients, like the businessman whose daughter and her fiance went missing. He paid well, even if the culprit mysteriously disappeared.

“Old Zhao!” Da Qing crashed through the door, looking as clueless and alarmed as usual.

Zhao Yunlan pulled the sucker out of his mouth with a smack and waved it at him. “Speak.”

Da Qing stood up straighter and attempted to smooth down his shirt but only succeeded in getting more dirt on it. He cleared his throat. “Ah, there’s someone here. A very well-dressed someone who says he needs urgent help.” And to add to Zhao Yulan’s headache, he winked.

Zhao Yunlan rolled his eyes. A few years ago, Da Qing began talking in code to make the clients feel more at ease, or to make the department itself look more interesting and mysterious. The only one in said department who humored him was Old Li, but that was just because the old man felt parental toward him. “So somebody very rich is very desperate, got it. Just send him in.”

With a pout, Da Qing retreated through the door and Zhao Yunlan slid his feet off the desk and half-heartedly put the cluttered papers into a stack. Normally he would just leave it since seeing the disorganization put people at ease. But if the client was higher class then it was actually the complete opposite. The more it looked organized and official, the more they felt they were not stooping down to another level. Then again, it was also very fun to watch a man in a suit squirm.

The door opened again and a man walked through it. This time, Zhao Yunlan was the one squirming.

Instead of some fat, sweaty businessman, the client standing before him was incredibly handsome. A professionally tailed blue pinstripe clung to a tall frame, accenting the rigid muscles beneath. He wore a matching fedora low on his head and round glasses that glinted in the low light.

The client moved respectfully to the side, clasping his hands in front of him as Da Qing stumbled in. “Old Zhao, this is Professor Shen Wei. Professor, Detective -- ah, ex-detective -- I, mean.” He paused and collected his bearings. He started again, calmly. “Professor, Zhao Yunlan. He is the leader around here.”

A professor? That was a new one. Zhao Yunlan popped the sucker back in his mouth and looked at Da Qing. “You can leave now, Fatty. Also, tell Zhu Hong that if I don’t have the files on the Crow murders by two today, I'll break her legs.” Da Qing nodded and backed out quickly. When the door closed, Zhao Yunlan gestured to the seat in front of him. “Professor Shen, please sit down.”

Shen Wei cleared his throat and sat down neatly, placing his hat on the table in front of him. “Is it really appropriate to call your subordinate ‘Fatty?” He asked in a smooth, deep voice that made Zhao Yunlan momentarily forget he was supposed to be a professional PI.

“If you saw how much it costs to feed him, you’d know that ‘Fatty’ is being extremely generous. But we are not here to talk about him..” Said Zhao Yunlan quickly, leaning back in his chair. He schooled his face into the usual business casual (slightly annoyed yet still charismatic) and waved a finger at him. “You have a problem, Professor Shen. Tell me.”

Shen Wei’s lips tightened into what may have been considered an attempt to smile and he folded his hands neatly in his lap. “I heard that you are who to call when you need somebody found.”

Zhao Yunlan grinned. “I have been known to catch a stray or two, yes.”

“Do you know of a girl by the name of Li Qian?”

“Mm. Nineteen year old female found dead at the docks two nights ago.”

“She was one of my brightest students.” The professor's jaw clenched and a shadow passed over his eyes. “She took care of her grandmother, the owner of a store known for priceless antiques. One of which Li Qian wore around her neck everywhere she went. There-”

Zhao Yunlan interrupted him with a large sigh and put his hands behind his head. “Professor Shen, as much as I love listening to you speak, you really came down here to talk to me about a suicide? Or you did. In that case, I’ve solved it!” He suddenly leaned forward and threw his arms out. “Li Qian was the killer.”

The shadow flickered again and Shen Wei looked like he was biting his tongue. “Please do not joke about her death, Detective.” Even though his face remained passive, there was a large amount of venom in his words.

“Ex-detective, actually.” Zhao Yunlan corrected him. “But like I said, those at the scene ruled it a suicide. She drowned.”

“I know that.” Professor Shen pushed up his glasses and shifted slightly. “I talked to the police myself and asked about the circumstances. Those circumstances make me believe they made the wrong call.”

“You think she was murdered?”

Although he had not been at the scene, Zhao Yunlan still had friends in the department who would occasionally let him peek at cases. The girl was found in the harbor with sea water in her lungs. Not a scrap of evidence suggesting otherwise. As far as he could tell, the poor kid flung herself off one of the bridges and ended up there for the fisherman to find.

“Why?” Zhao Yunlan asked, cocking his head.

Shen Wei pushed up his glasses again. “Her necklace was missing. Zhao Yunlan, this is not an arbitrary fact. Her grandmother is extremely ill and does not have access to proper care, so she does not have much time left. Not once did I see my student without that necklace around her neck. She clung to it like it was a piece of her soul and I’m fairly certain if she did plan on killing herself, she would have had it with her. Also being such a valuable piece, I’m sure if a criminal saw a vulnerable young woman walking down the street in the dead of night, they would also see an opportunity.”

His words made Zhao Yunlan pause. When he still worked at the DCPD, he did plenty of interrogations. Most criminals were so nervous they were practically wetting their pants, but others were as calm as Shen Wei in front of him. He was not accusing the professor of anything yet. However, the darkness hiding behind the man’s dark brown eyes suggested he knew more than he was letting on to. In any case, his detective senses were alive and alert.

“So you are asking me to find the necklace and bring in the people you believe murdered her?”

Shen Wei shook his head. “I am asking you to assist me in my own investigation.”

Zhao Yunlan sucked in a breath. “Ah, with all due respect, professor. I do not assist. I catch criminals with the assistance of others. Plus, this is really not a job for academics such as yourself.

The professor eyed him and reached into his suit. Zhao Yunlan’s eyes bugged when a large stack of cash made an appearance. He hastily began counting the bills all while Shen Wei watched him intently. “Is this enough?”

Humming, Zhao Yunlan moved his head from side-to-side. “I might need something else.”

“Name your price.”

Zhao Yunlan grinned. “Smile for me?”

To his pleasure, Shen Wei’s face became a deep shade of red. Zhao Yunlan laughed and waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, I’m kidding! I’ll make you smile on my own eventually.”

Shen Wei’s lips tightened again and he dropped his head. “We shall see.”

Zhao Yunlan’s heart fluttered. “Challenge accepted, my dear professor Shen.” He grabbed his pistol from underneath his desk. He set it on the table next to the cash and smiled widely up at Shen Wei.

“Now, let’s go find that girl’s necklace.”

#weilan #weilan fic #guardian #guardian fic #zhao yunlan #shen wei #film noir au #charlie writes stuff #and then they went on gay ol' adventures and nobody died #also i love my dumb ass cat boy Da Qing so shout out #like i said please know this is totally not proofread or written coherently

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shaenanigans · 5 years

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Wedding Bells (Guardian/SCI/Trapped Xover) Drabble

The wedding invitation had been sitting on Zhao Zi’s desk for at least three days. Shao Fei was not a nosy person by nature, regardless of his obsession with the then bane of his existence, now boyfriend Tang Yi. What he felt was more along the lines of worry for his junior. Zhao Li An had been moping. Not even bribes of food from Jack could make him smile, mouth seemingly carved into a permanent pout.

Shao Fei was there when the invitation arrived in the mail. He’d seen the exact moment Zhao Zi’s eyes lit up when he read the wedding card, exclaiming about his awesome Yunlan-Gege and his upcoming marriage. But then there’d been the letter with the Zhao family crest and he went pale.

The Zhao family is well off. Elite even. But Zhao Zi’s father gave up all his inheritance to elope with his mom, who was not of their stature. When his parents died, his grandfather didn’t want anything to do with him and forbade any contact with the family. He had to stay with his grandmother from his mom’s side. When his grandfather died and his uncle became the new head, Zhao Zi was invited back but he chose to stay with his grandma. To make amends, his uncle made sure he didn’t get kicked out of the police academy. Though being a police officer was his dream and clearly something that ran in the blood of Zhao men, Zhao Zi was too naïve and innocent for the gritty job of a cop, sheltered as he was under his grandmother's coddling . If he wasn’t a natural technological genius with strong family connections, he would have been in danger of not graduating.

Last Shao Fei heard, though Zhao Li An’s relationship with his uncle was civil, familial obligation at best, he was close with his cousin Zhao Yunlan, who coincidentally was also Shao Fei’s senior at the police academy. So there should be absolutely no reason for Zhao Zi to sulk the way he’s been doing. It’s a happy occasion after all. And going by what he knew of his senior, Zhao Yunlan didn’t seem like the type to settle down. He used to flirt with anything that moved as if he was in perpetual search for the one. Shao Fei remembers a particular scandalous affair Zhao Yunlan had with the only son from another family of elites, the Bai clan. It caused quite the ruckus back at the academy because they were constantly at each other's throats. Which was true anyway, just not entirely in the way everybody thought.

This Shen Wei must be very special indeed to put an end to Zhao Yunlan's flirting ways. Shao Fei is of the belief that finally finding the love of one's life is definitely something that needs to be celebrated.

“Uncle Xinci had a near death experience." Zhao Zi explains later that night when Shao Fei has had enough with the moping and decided to confront his junior about his mood. "Some kind of underground gang got to the family. Yunlan-Gege was held hostage and nearly died. His fiancé was presumed dead for a time. I mean, I get it. He probably thinks someone might come after me that’s why he wants me to stay at the main Zhao family house where he could keep an eye out. He wants me transferred and work under Yunlan-Gege. But Meng Shao Fei, I have a life here and and…” he trails off in his rant, head bent down. There's no mistaking the slight pink on his cheeks. “Jack’s here too.” He groans, shooting Bambi eyes at Shao Fei and his ever present pout, the kind that never fails to make the people around him trip all over themselves to try and cater to his needs. Tang Yi’s right hand man being the biggest casualty of all. “Uncle Xinci is going to be livid if he finds out my boyfriend is a gangster.”

“He’s just your uncle. He can’t dictate who you should or shouldn't date.” Shao Fei says, hands clamped on the younger man’s shoulder, very gently pushing him down the couch. “And don’t forget. Xing Tian Meng is not going to be a gang for long. Tang Yi’s making sure that they’re going to be clean as a whistle.”

“I know that, but I also know Uncle. It’s not going to matter. He’ll see mercenary on Jack’s background sheet and say no.” That pout’s really getting more miserable by the second. “I don’t want to leave you guys and grandma’s house. I’ve lived here all my life. I don’t even know the first thing about Dragon City.”

“Don’t you think maybe you’re overthinking this?” Shao Fei asks, handing over the koala plushie from the side of the couch to join the Teddy Bear Zhao Li An’s already suffocating against his chest. The younger man turns to him, nearly knocking Shao Fei over when he stubbornly plants his face on his shoulder. Shao Fei sighs and wraps an arm around the distraught police officer.

“Meng Shao Fei, I don’t want to break up with Jack.” Zhao Zi laments, voice muffled.

“You’re not going to.” Shao Fei assures, fingers raking through his hair soothingly. He smiles, rubbing his face against the mop of dark hair. “You’ll go to the wedding, congratulate your cousin and tell your uncle that you’re not going anywhere, and that will be the end of that. I’ll even accompany you when you reason with him if you want while Jack and Tang Yi can look devastatingly handsome at a distance.”

Zhao Zi pulls away from the half-hug and directs Shao Fei with wide, worshipful eyes. “You’re coming with me? Even Jack and Tang Yi?” he asks incredulously, and then with his expression falling, he adds. “But the wedding invitation didn’t say anything about bringing guests. Is that going to be okay?”

Shao Fei knows Jack will definitely want to come with, and well, if Shao Fei is going, then Tang Yi will undoubtedly want to come too. After the fourth time he got hurt in the hands of Tang Yi's enemies, he’s become quite overbearing lately, always watching him like a hawk. Not that he doesn’t appreciate his boyfriend's overprotectiveness, but he’s a grown adult and can take care of himself thanks.

“It’s a garden wedding, not a closed doors court ruling.” Shao Fei shakes his head, knuckling Zhao Zi gently on the forehead. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine.”

“Ai-yah, that hurt.” Zhao Zi says pouting, backing away from his hand.

“I didn’t even put pressure in it. Stop exaggerating, Zhao Li An.” Shao Fei says with an eyeroll, then pulling him closer, he asks in a conspirational tone, “So, have you met this Shen Wei that Zhao-senior is marrying?”

Zhao Zi blinks, then nodding, he grins happily. “I did facetime with Yunlan-Gege once and I saw him in the background cooking. He was only in a black T-shirt. He had really nice muscles, Meng Shao Fei! His arms were very toned and his chest! He’s also very pretty. Prettier than Hong Ye I think. But don’t tell her I said that. Hey, do you think Yunlan-Gege is going to get mad if I felt up his fiance’s muscles when we get there?” Beaming, he adds. “I need someone to compare Jack’s muscles with.”

Shao Fei snorts. “Of course you’d focus on some unsuspecting guy's muscles.” he says sighing, looking up to the heavens in silent prayer, hoping that the wedding would commence with no casualties, no jealous other halves potentially losing limbs or vital organs.

More later...

-----

I fee too inadequate to try and write this. I should have just prompted someone else hahahaha. But at the same time this is something fun to do.

#crossover #weilan #tangfei #tongyao #s.c.i mystery drama #guardian #zhenhun #history3 #trapped #zhao zi and zhao yunlan as cousins #police academy bros #writing process #experiment #weilan marriage #jack x zhao zi

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mathiaskillmaster · 5 years

Text

Rebirth of the Dragon (Daenerys Targaryen / After GOT) Part 15

Westeros, The Neck

_ "Go, run, they are getting closer!" Brienne ordered in a state of real panic, pushing as far as possible Samwell and Tyrion in front of her to force them to run faster. But the marshy mossy and muddy soil of the Neck region made all progress more difficult, and the many trees around them rendered visibility almost nil in greyish darkness. The trio could have escaped from King's Landing in prey to chaos and death and had galloped without stopping for several, to the point of having killed their horses of exhaustion and being forced to continue on foot.

Unfortunately, death was starting to catch up with them. Lively grunts were heard and the silhouettes of four wights, dressed in rags of peasants or damaged leather armors, appeared out of the shadows, and like rabid dogs rushed towards the trio of humans to reduce them into pieces. Although slowed down by the sticky mud, the wights continued to get closer and closer. One of them found his leg stuck in a moving sand, but still stubbornly wanted to move forward. His rotten leg came apart in a crunch of flesh and bone.

Sword in hand, Brienne, her face sweating, constantly glanced back, seeing the dead creatures come closer to them, snapping their foul jaws and shouting their wild grunts.

After a stumble into a mud pool, Samwell fell backwards into a huge splash of water and slush, and struggling with panic, had Tyrion help him. Samwell continued to cling forcefully to the bag containing the precious grimoires he had taken from his library, which completely escaped Tyrion's logic.

_ "Sam, let those fucking books, they slow you down too much!!" the dwarf snapped in the stress generated by the situation. Samwell shook his head vigorously at this suggestion.

_ "Stop talking, keep running!!" shouted Brienne, slapping Sam's back to force him forward. One of the wights managed to reach them, throwing himself on the nearest person, Brienne. Thrown to the ground despite her size by the weight of the creature, Brienne struggled in hand to hand against the undead in the dripping water and mud, the latter having tightened his hands on her throat and trying to bite her face with his moldy teeth. While holding the thing and trying to breathe, Brienne with her other hand, struggled to grab her sword fallen to the ground next to her. She then saw Sam rush, grab the sword in his hands and pierce the skull with the tip of the blade. The latter froze, then fell lifeless. Brienne pushed the body away from her, helped by Sam and Tyrion to get up.

A gaunt hand then grabs Tyrion's leg, knocking him down in the mud. Another wight, the one who had lost his leg in the shifting sands and crawled now, was bent on pulling Tyrion toward him. The dwarf struggled with all the strength he could, held by the hand by Sam and Brienne.

_ "Hold on, my lord!" Samwell said frightened.

_"Easy to say!!" replied Tyrion, as he tried to kick the wight's face several times. The other two remaining dead had also come close, armed with old rusty swords, and were about to hit Brienne and Sam.

A stealthy whistle sounded suddenly in the air, and an arrow hit one of the undead in the head, piercing his temple and killing him instantly. A few seconds later, a second similar arrow killed the second undead, between the two eyes. Tyrion, Brienne, and Sam remained frozen in astonishment. Opening wide eyes, they saw this human figure, small and fast, run on the big branch of a tree and in a most agile leap, threw a grapple connected to a rope to slide to the foot of the trunk with a large speed. The stranger seized his bow, barking a new arrow and without the least pressure, fired. The projectile passed right next to Tyrion's cheek, the latter having almost felt the friction of the air, and saw the last wight crumpled, shot down in the forehead.

Once the undead were eliminated, Brienne and Sam were able to help Tyrion get back on his feet, while the mysterious person who had just rescued them, examined the corpses of the undead cautiously, kicking them, making sure that they were really out of order.

_ "Are you okay, sir?" Samwell asked as he looked at Tyrion to see if he was hurt. Out of breath and covered with water and mud, the dwarf just nodded in response. Brienne turned to their mysterious savior. Whoever he was, he was rather small, dressed in strange clothes looking like furs, old greenish brown leather, and even natural elements like woven leaves. His face was hidden by a hood and a scarf. He was well armed, in addition to his bow and arrows, possessed a dagger and a short sword at his belt.

_ "I don't know who you are, sir, but thank you." said Brienne sincerely as a good knight. Tyrion and Samwell, though saying nothing, joined her on this point. The stranger says nothing in the first place, just staring at them, one by one. Then, with a nonchalant gesture, he removed his hood, revealing black, semi-long and curly hair, as well as severe eyes. He then removed his scarf to reveal the bottom of his face. Brienne, Tyrion and Sam were surprised at the moment. He was not a man, but a young woman. Her hardened eyes showed she was used to fighting. She advanced a few steps towards them, crushing under her boot the skull of a wight, and in a rather reserved and neutral tone, presented herself to them.

_ "My name is Meera of house Reed."

Volantis, Essos Yara remained pensive for a long time. After washing her body and her hair, the young Queen of the Iron Islands was now looking herself naked in the glass of the small mirror of the room. Looking at her still wet brown hair, as well as the few remaining drops of water on her skin, Yara said nothing, just looking at her figure. For the last few days she had been thinking more and more about Queen Daenerys. She had followed her to the far reaches of the known world, in the lands of Asshai ... she had witnessed phenomena impossible to conceive for an average mind ..... she had been able to see the full power of the symbol that embodied Daenerys stormborn of house Targaryen .... a symbol for the oppressed, the heat of fire would crush those who claim to be the undisputed masters of all life belonging to them without any impunity ....

Although she belonged to a people who had committed many heinous acts in the past, such as looting and rape, Yara was ready to always follow her queen of dragons. She had already sworn to her, swearing to stop the looting and rape, and would be ready to swear anew if she had to .... At the thought of Daenerys in her mind, Yara's heart fell to beat faster and she was surprised to see herself blush a little .... But very quickly, she took the senses of reality, shaking her head nonchalantly in front of the mirror and grabbing his clothes ....

_ "My poor Yara, you must stop taking your dreams for realities." she says to herself. Basically, although her feelings for Queen Daenerys were more than obvious, she could not bring herself to believe it. After what the queen dragon had undergone, could she be able to once again trust a great love?

After wearing her clothes and her iron queen armor, Yara opened the door to leave the room, but was surprised to see Shen-zoan stand in front of her, and just about to knock on the door.

_ "Ah, Yara, I was looking for you." said the man of Yi-Ti, in a friendly tone. "Queen Daenerys sends me to fetch you, she reunites the council."

_ "A council meeting today?" Yara raised an eyebrow. Shen nodded with a smile and invited her to follow him.

_ "I prefer to warn you, she's a little upset." Shen warns, further emphasizing the ironborn queen's curiosity.

_"And for what reason?"

_ "A message from the slave masters of Meereen."

The atmosphere was already heavy when Shen and Yara entered the council room. Around a large stone table on which had been unfolded from side to side a very detailed map of the Slaver's Bay and its main cities, the other members of the council welcomed the last two comers, inviting them to join them. Grey Worm, Ser Cade, Shen-zoan, Yara Greyjoy, the Red High Priest, and of course Queen Daenerys, all were now present for this new council meeting.

The young dragon queen, dressed in her long white dress, was pacing, looking gloomily, holding in her hands a parchment unrolled which she was gradually crushing between her fingers. Around the table, everyone watched without anyone daring to say a word, until Yara, somewhat annoyed by this silence, decided:

_ "My queen ..... what are the news?"

Daenerys paused and turned to her ironborn friend before reaching the end of the table, abruptly placing her hands on the map, sighing heavily. Grey Worm then proposed to clear up Yara's question and spoke.

_ "A message from Meereen. The masters took the city by force, slavery is once again practiced, and a group of very influential masters now lead the city, making themselves known as the" Harpy Lords."

Daenerys bit his lip just to hear again the news having on her mind like the effect of a painful poison. Just at the thought of these men, women and children in need that she had saved, chained again, beaten, starved, killed for pleasure ..... and she had abandoned them, for her futile quest for the Iron Throne ..... Daenerys could probably never forgive herself, but all she could do now was fix her mistake once and for all. However, she raised another very important detail concerning the current situation of Meereen.

_ "They did not just take over the city ..." Daenerys explained, in a very morose tone, her throat knotted ".... they ..... they took Daario Naharis...."

_"Who?" Yara asked.

_ "He used to be a member of the second sons, and then joined me to serve me. A very devoted, competent man .... I had entrusted to him the regency of Meereen in my absence ...."

Every word that came out of her mouth was accompanied by that feeling of anxiety more than palpable. Daenerys then took in her hands a small wooden box bearing on its surface the golden symbol of the harpy. A gift sent by the masters with the message. Daenerys swallowed and opened it hesitantly, before showing the contents to others. All were more or less surprised, even disgusted. An eye, still bloody, was inside. On the box had been hung a little message, that Daenerys read aloud:

_ "This is a gift for the silver-haired whore - the eye of her godly commander who is so brave and dedicated - one eye to start, but more pieces will follow until there is nothing left. The dragon has fallen, and once again the harpy reigns over the Meereen sky, as it should be."

After reading this sharp message to her, Daenerys squashed it bluntly between her fingers, before letting the crumpled paper ball fall to her feet. Although she tried to remain calm, the others could see without problem that Daenerys was fuming inside, her fists clenching on the wood of the table and her eyes becoming darker than ever. Although angry, Daenerys was also worried. Was Daario simply still alive or had the masters made him their toy, inflicting the worst possible tortures while keeping him alive?

_ "They take the cities that I freed from their tyranny ... they kill children ... they tear the eye of Daario and dare to send me with an insulting message ...." she sighed with anger. Grey Worm stepped forward, joining his queen.

_ "We must make the masters pay, majesty, kill them to the last one." said the leader of the unsullied without hesitation. Although having given up the idea of killing, Shen-zoan had to admit that this time, faced with such individuals deprived of humanity, other solutions would not be possible. Ser Cade, too, seemed to agree with Grey Worm. Yara, too, joined the others.

_ "However ...." Shen commented, trying to stay rational "... if the masters are not stupid, they will surely use the thousands of slaves present in the city as a human shield ... If we launch a frontal assault, it will be a real carnage, hundreds of innocent people will be killed."

Daenerys listened and agreed with her friend from Yi-Ti. She remembered the drama in King's Landing with shame, and would never want to reproduce such an error. She was a liberator, not a destroyer. Feeling somewhat tired with all the stress of the past few days, the dragon queen ran her hand over her face, blowing heavily.

_ "I ... I have to stay alone a few moments, my friends .... we will resume this meeting later ...." she said, before turning on her heels and leaving the room, followed by her maid Mira. All around the table, in the greatest silence, the others gave the same cautious glances, but understanding in what state of reflection their queen was.

Refugee in her quarters in one of the towers of the temple of Volantis, Daenerys took a few moments to breathe calmly, and walked to the small bronze table to serve a glass of wine. While taking a first sip, feeling the fresh drink pouring down her throat and doing her good, she thought about how to free Meereen without having to massacre the people she came to save. Not to mention Daario .... the masters would surely use him as a means of pressure on her to prevent her from taking over the city .... Daenerys gave herself a headache by thinking all of this. What a situation!

She then heard the door open and close.

_ "Mira, I had asked that I not be disturbed ...." Daenerys said turning around, thinking to see her young servant, but it was Yara who showed up at the door of the room.

_ "Yara? What do you want? I told you that we will resume the council meeting later ..." said the dragon queen, somewhat annoyed when she went to sit on the sheets of her bed, the glass of wine in her hand.

_ "I know ..." replied the ironborn queen, approaching the bed with a nonchalant step "... but I wanted to make sure that you're fine. I'm worried about you."

Without looking at her, Daenerys listened to the young woman, feeling very well the sincere tone in her voice. Dropping another sip of wine, she turned to her friend and with her hand, pointed to the place on the bed next to her.

_"Come."

Yara smiled slightly and obeyed, coming to sit on the comfortable silk sheets, right next to Queen Targaryen.

_ "Your concern touches me, Yara, really, but I assure you, I'm fine."

_ "It's not true," Yara retorted, looking straight into her eyes, "I can see it. You can hardly sleep at night, you moan in your sleep, and sometimes you shout. You don't eat much and you seem exhausted all the time... "

_ "You don't have to interfere with this! It is not your concern, understood?!" Daenerys suddenly got excited, surprising Yara at the moment. Realizing very quickly her mistake of being so stupid and unfair to her friend who worries about her, Daenerys sighed, putting her drink on the little bedside table and came to take Yara's hand in her own.

_ "Forgive me, I should not have spoken to you that way. It was silly."

_ "It's nothing, your grace ..." Yara told her to reassure her, perfectly understanding "... and then, you're the queen."

_ "You too are queen ..." Daenerys reminded her with a little smile "... and as such, I must respect you as you do with me. Between queens, we must help each other."

The two women exchanged a small laugh together, relaxing a little the heavy atmosphere that reigned. Yara looked at the dragon queen again, unable to stop herself from finding her so beautiful and attractive, feeling the softness of the skin of her hand in hers, her fine fingers intertwining hers ....

Without thinking and unable to hold back, Yara approached, leaning her head forward and delicately put her lips on those of Daenerys, in a very short kiss, but marked with a sincerity more than obvious. Pulling back her head after the kiss, Yara remained silent. Daenerys did the same, and showed a face somewhat caught off guard, but not outraged.

_ "I ..... forgive me, I should not have ...." Yara said very embarrassed and beating heart, cheeks red and without adding a word, got up to leave hastily from the room, leaving the Targaryen young woman alone. Daenerys sat there, brushing her lips with her fingertips, glancing over her shoulder, but seeing that Yara had already left.

#daenerys targaryen #queen daenerys #daenerys deserved better #game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #yara greyjoy #shen-zoan #grey worm #house targaryen #Tyrion Lannister #meera reed

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tanyavvvvvvf-blog · 6 years

Text

Guardian Novel Bonus Chapter Four, by Priest, finished on 07/30/2018-P4

(IIII)

When Zhao Yunlan calmed down from shocking, he still held that short candle in his hand, the flickering light was about pea size. He tried to move a little, shockingly found something unusual. His gaze moved down slowly on his right foot, he, sprained the right ankle.

As God KunLun's incarnation, after Zhao Yunlan regained the divine soul, he never got sick, he was invulnerable. He almost forgot what a mosquito bite looks like, sure didn't expect his ankle would be sprained at the South China Sea today!

He grined, found it interesting. He touched his ankle, looks like the bone was not injured. He carefully moved it for a while and stood up leaned against the wall. Immediatly, he found out that his hands and feet were heavy like they were weighed down, as if they weren't his own. KunLun's astonishing abilities of capable in crushing the Triple Realm and flying beyond the clouds weren't inside of him anymore.

Not only that, his watch - "Discriminator" stopped working. The remained half dozen of spells in his wallet became ordinary paper, showed no reaction at all. The long whip could not be summoned, even the blood-bounded Soul Suppression Amulet became a piece of tree bark, lying silently in his palm.

Zhao Yunlan rose up Snake Four's Life-Lamp, checking the surrounding. A scene of desolation and ruin showed in his eyes, the street lights were out, not even a flickering one, abandoned houses on both sides of the street, he can smell the floating dust in the air.

Was it a historical remain?

Limply walked for about two steps, he had to stop and poured out the sand in his shoes. He felt some needle pain when he inhaled and exhaled, tightness in his heart, he suffered with shortness of breath and chest pain. He was very healthy when he was a mortal human, sure had no sign of above symptoms, was it because he forgot about the feeling of being a human?

He walked with his heavy body, looked around the street, no cellphone signals, he checked the time.

20:45.

He had some ham for dinner, but not enough to makeup his energy consumption. After sprained ankle, check pain, the human body recalled his memory of stomachache.

At this moment, "meow", Zhao Yunlan looked up, a black cat sleeked out from some dead tree branches, jumped onto the house. The cat gently stepped on the broken and tattered wall, its tail was held up high, elegant and graceful. So much like young Qing, when he was still a cub, when he was slim, when you could tell the differences between his neck and his waist, what a wonderful age.

Zhao Yunlan likes to amuse cats and dogs, he whistled to the cat, and when the cat turned around looking at him with green eyes, he saw a spell in its mouth. Not until he had a clear look, the world span. The cat was no longer there, the street was fasting twisted, Zhao Yunlan missed his foot, fell down on the ground, the right ankle was sprained again.

He cursed, and then he realized, he was back again at the very spot he woke up in the beginning.

Once again he supported himself on the wall, once again he stood up, he stepped out and he felt the sand he poured out was back in his shoes.

His eyes shrank slightly, finally figure out something, pulled out his cellphone, he checked the time again, it was 20:35.

He was back to 10 minutes ago!

Zhao Yunlan fast paced crossed the street, he pulled out his cellphone and counted the time. Ten minutes later, that black cat showed again, jumped onto the house in the same position. But this time, he didn't go near the cat, he observed in the dark corner.

The cat holding the spell in its mouth, lifted its paws, after it walked five steps, the dazzling spinning feel came back to Zhao Yunlan.

The same thing happened for two to three times, Zhao Yunlan gave up of standing up, those shoes were not easy to take off.

He got it, this presented world was like a looping single, for about 10 minutes long, limited space, and him, was stuck in this 10 minutes, repeatedly.

Zhao Yunlan rubbed the wall next to him, he recalled the bubbles when he and Shen Wei were torn apart.

Bubbles....... The looping time-trap.....

Suddenly, Zhao Yunlan supported himself to stand up again, once again he dumped the sand in his shoes. He ran through the ruined street. At the moment the cat showed, he held the candle in his mouth, with a few steps of run-up, he grasped on the edge of the house, stamped on the retained wall and jumped onto the roof, grabbed the frightened black cat, yanked the spell out of its month, and then turned back, straighted down to the ground. Before his feet touched the ground, he realized the time resetting point was coming close, he quickly lighted the spell with the Life-Lamp, the spell burned. Meanwhile, he heard something popped beside his ears, something cracked, the black cat in his hands vanished.

Zhao Yunlan stood firmly in a few steps, looked up and found that he had not been reset to the starting point. The street view in front of him was slightly different, one of the street lights was on, the air felt less dusty, the tree was not spiritless, although there were only a few more leaves, it showed life and energy.

He put out the dust on his clothes, "That's what it is. I thought it would be some unrevealed treasure. Turned out to be a big trouble."

As we all know, time is a linear, like a river flowing from the past towards the future, one person can't leap back and forth on his time line. Under the same dimension, the track of events won't be changed. 【Interpreter Notes：The writer wants to tell, destiny is written, fate is unshakeable. In the book, KunLun had to die to guard the barrier. Shen Wei had to die to bridge the reincarnation. These were all written in their destinies.】

Before KunLun's soul back to his body, Zhao Yunlan experienced something the same. He "leaped" back to 11 years ago, but that was not a real time travel. That time, God ShenNong planted a 11-year time-loop inside the snake-scale of NUWA . That time-loop was a mini-world moulded by ShenNong, an instance copy of the real world, but was not part of the real world, last time Zhao Yunlan had a quite trip in that time-loop. 【Interpreter Notes: NUWA, Goodness of Sky-patching, woman body with a snake tale. In ancient Chinese stories, she moulded human from mud. NUWA, ShenNong, and KunLun, these are all ancient gods in flooding era.】

When Snake Four passed that scale of NUWA to him, Zhao Yunlan stepped into that instance copy mini-world without knowing it. The timing in the instance copy ran to the end, was just to be reset to 11 years ago, so Zhao Yunlan who was inside that world, took a ride, flashed back to 11 years ago as well ...... until Shen Wei cleaved it from outside and pulled him back to reality.

The bubbles that torn him and Shen Wei apart must be the same thing as that 11-year instance copy mini-world, each of the bubbles was an endless loop with limited time frame.

It could be a 10 minutes loop with rough and shabby stage, or it could be a loop that need tens of thousands of years to get to the resetting point. It would be such an almost genuine, almost perfect mini- world.

So, it was not a divine object or magic key, it was a mistake. An experimental failure made by the ancient gods. They kept it sealed in the South China Sea. First, it was accidentally irritated by the trace of Ghost Lord, and then the barrier was intruded by a supreme monster-spirit, that was how this failure came to life.

Zhao Yunlan looked up at the street light, complained, "I knew it! You guys won't leave any legacy to me. You left me nothing but garbage to clean."

Cannot located Shen Wei's position, so it was not wise to expecting his to crack from outside. These tiny looping mini-world, can only be cracked from inside.

It was not a hard job, each loop had a connecting point with the reality, through this connection point, Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei were shipped in here. Find it, crack it, the loop would lose the dependence, then it would be destructed.

For instance, that 11-year loop had a connecting point too, that was the mysterious book named <Ancient bizarrerie>.

At that time, in the reality, Zhao Yunlan had one with him, in the loop there was another "one" too. As he walked into the loop, two identical <Ancient Bizarrerie> overlapped with each other, the loop and the reality were connected, the mirage crossed over into the reality.

At then, Zhao Yunlan was seeking what Shen Wei was hiding from him, he was pursuing the truth using that book, never thought about to destroy it. If he had burned the "book" the moment he found it in the loop, the karma in the loop would be deviated from the karma in the reality, the loop would be destructed, Shen Wei wouldn't need to save him from outside.

And if he had burned the "book" in the loop, when he came back to reality, the book would be still with him, not being left in the loop forever, waiting to be reset. 【Interpreter note: In Chapter 88-89，Zhao Yunlan went to the Hell to seek the story about the book, Shen Wei's brother attacked him, somehow triggered Zhao falling into the loop. He learned the truth about the book, and finally found out Shen Wei had contact with his father. He threw the book in the River Lethe - river in the Hell. But soon realized he didn't want to disrupt the reality, he went to buy the "book" again. And sneaked into the bedroom of the younger vision of him, hided it under the bed. Later, Shen Wei slashed the loop from outside and pulled him out.】

Here and now, these loops paved layer upon layer like bubbles. The image of Zhao Yunlan projected and reflected on them, every loop would replicate one item from him, to be the connecting points between the loop and the reality. They were the stopped watch, the useless spell, the downgraded Token of Soul Suppression, the long whip couldn't be summoned...... and even the super-nature power of his.

He would't know which could be the corresponding connection point in that loop, he had to watch and try, every time he destroyed one item in the loop, he would successfully destructed that loop, that item would still be available in the reality afterwards.

"So much trouble." Zhao Yunlan gasped, "Should have agreed with the written test, wouldn't need to come here and go through all these."

Freaking stupid Aquatic, he definitely wanted to have a feast of seafood when he leave here.

---- Continue w/ P5 ----

View in full on my wattpad: https://my.w.tt/0G7fXKu3pP

#guardian #zhenhun #shenwei #zhaoyunlan #weilan #镇魂 #priest #沈巍 #赵云澜 #keep reading #keepreading

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msdoctorwho · 6 years

Text

Fire Meet Gasoline, Ch. 9

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461255/chapters/34141604

But it's a bad bet, certain death But I want what I want and I gotta get it When the fire dies, darkened skies Hot ash, dead match, only smoke is left -Sia

In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity. -Sun Tzu, “The Art of War”

As hurt, scared, and angry as she was, Bulma had a hard time blaming him for leaving. He’d only just started to let himself be comfortable with her, to settle into a new life, to figure out who he was away from a dead planet and a nightmare tyrant. How else could she expect him to act, blindsided with the overwhelming responsibility for another life, fearing a distraction that could rob him of the achievement on which he’d staked his entire significance?

While she obviously hadn’t gotten knocked up all by herself, they both knew if she hadn’t pursued him so relentlessly, they’d still just be sort-of-friends.

That was the worst bit -- she missed him, she missed the easy company of their fledgling friendship, and hated that it might be gone, forever. Sometimes she wished it could all go back to the way it had been before, too.

But there was no use dwelling on that -- she needed to move forward, and there was work to do.

With her child’s father in space, potentially never to return, the possibility of wishing back Nappa and Raditz had become a certainty for Bulma. She needed to know more about them. She wanted more for her child than a lost, dead, heritage.

And the feeling that they deserved the same second chance as Vegeta had been nagging at her ever since she’d spoken with him about it. Now, he wasn’t here to fight her on it.

Or give a fuck what she did with the rest of her life on Earth.

It was easy enough to collect the dragon balls again on her own. She took them to the middle of nowhere to avoid inconvenient questions from nosy friends.

She hadn't counted on stumbling into Gohan, who, from the look on his face, was also hoping to be alone and escape the notice of anyone he knew.

“Hey, Bulma,” he said, looking surprised and guilty.

“What’s up, kid?” Bulma asked, calculating whether or not to lie to him.

“Dad thinks I’m doing homework, and Mom thinks I’m training.” He paused. “I just needed a break.”

“You’ve got a lot of expectations on you, kid. It’s not really fair.” She ruffled his hair, embarrassing him with the childish gesture. “But if anyone can live up to them, it’s you.”

Hand to the back of his head, he looked bashful and changed the subject. “What are you doing out here, with the Dragon Balls? Can I help?”

She looked at him for a long time, and then looked away. “You’re not really a kid anymore, Gohan. What I want to do isn’t necessarily smart, and it isn’t safe, but it’s what I feel in my heart is right.”

She went on, looking out over the jagged cliffs of rust-colored rock, baking in the afternoon sun. “If I let you stay, I’d have to ask you not to tell your parents and I don’t want to put you in that position.”

He thought for a moment. “I think Dad would want me to help you even if it meant lying to him. And Mom...well, I’m going to be in trouble with her today either way,” he laughed uneasily.

Bulma nodded, and began to summon a dragon.

The majesty of Shen-lon never got old -- a vast creature that seemed to touch the sky, booming voice echoing in her ears. This time, she felt like he was eyeing her a bit in judgment.

She worded her wish carefully. “I wish for Nappa and Raditz to be alive again, but unable to harm me or anyone I care about.”

If she played her cards right they’d never uncover that failsafe.

In an instant, they towered over her, blinking and disoriented. Raditz recovered first. “I remember you, little human,” he hissed.

Nappa’s eyes narrowed in recognition.

She didn’t cower, budge, or lose eye contact. “Aren’t you at all curious about why you’re no longer dead?”

At this they looked uncertain. Suddenly coming back to life was a lot to handle, even for them.

“Vegeta asked me to find the Dragon Balls and bring you back,” she lied.

Nappa snorted. “Prince Vegeta doesn’t ask anyone to do anything.”

She had to smile at that. “True enough, but fortunately for him I agreed with the idea.”

“Why, little earthling, would you ever do that?” Nappa’s soft growl was much more intimidating than Raditz’s brash, insulting tone, as he stepped closer.

“Stay away from her!” Gohan warned, his forward motion cut short by Bulma’s quick gesture to stay put.

“Nephew!” Raditz’ surprise was evident, but there was nothing warm in it. “Come to greet your uncle?”

He cracked his knuckles, and even Bulma could feel the auras flaring to life around her. The Gohan who had cowered from these aliens was long gone, replaced by a young man eager for a fight. She’d bet her airship that Piccolo was monitoring them from somewhere, as well.

Bulma needed control of the situation now.

“Stop this at once!” she commanded, in their own language. “Power down, and show more control than a green cadet.” Translated more accurately as, “Stop jerking off instead of thinking.” Her tone was haughty, arrogant, and scathing.

The two Saiyans, all three of them actually, gaped at her open-mouthed. She imagined they could not have been more surprised than if Vegeta himself had unzipped her skin like a suit and stepped out to reprimand them. Their collective gathered power fizzled out in shock.

“A lot has changed while you’ve been gone, assholes.” she said, ignoring them to brush non-existent lint away from her clothing, an arrogant display of confidence.

“Clearly,” Nappa replied, gruff, and suspicious, regarding her like a talking cockroach.

“The short version is: Gohan is with me because Kakarot recognized Vegeta as his Prince, became a Super Saiyan, and killed Frieza to avenge your planet.” Mostly killed, she amended, in her head.

Gohan couldn’t follow the conversation, but he heard his name, and his father’s, and Frieza’s. The Saiyans seemed to be listening attentively, so he let himself relax.

Bulma continued, “Vegeta is on a training mission to ascend, as we’ve been warned about a new threat to Earth.”

“And why would Prince Vegeta give a shit about a threat to this pathetic ball of mud?” Raditz challenged.

“Is there a reason needed to fight, Saiyan, beyond glory, blood and victory?” she replied coolly. It was a very Vegeta, very Saiyan answer. The implied Saiyan subtext was a bit more like “Is that not enough to get it up for you?”

“...the brass balls on this bitch,” muttered Raditz, cowed enough to do it under his breath.

“What is Prince Vegeta to you, woman?” Unlike Vegeta, when Nappa used this form of address, it was distant but respectful. His eyes were curious.

For the first time her composure flickered. “I’m his...” she paused, searching for a Saiyan label that commanded more respect than “baby mama,” and coming up wanting.

“I’m his earthling paramour,” she finally ground out, her eyes daring them to comment. It implied higher status than “whore” or “concubine”, but not by much.

Nappa’s head was spinning. She spoke like a soldier, with the rude, direct structure of the barracks, none of the bullshit equivocation of the aristocracy. Her flawless accent, though, and her tone -- that belonged to a queen. The clear ring of command belonged to a general.

She sounded like Vegeta.

She sounded like Vegeta, with a cultivated fondness for creative vulgarity and a habit of using and discarding feminine pronouns like she could only be bothered to use them when she felt like it.

She was a fascinating and infuriating creature, and he could see all too well what Vegeta’s interest in her might have been.

Raditz only laughed though, almost to the point of tears. “As if! The Prince never eats local cuisine!” Literally: “never fucks cannon fodder.”

She grew more and more still, the longer he went on, and Nappa felt he had seen warmer light reflected off of glaciers, compared to the icy glint of her gaze.

“Put your useless, lowborn brain to work, you unwashed troglodyte, and use your enhanced senses to figure it out.” She opened her arms, daring him to do it.

Raditz approached her with caution, though it was clear by now her only weapon was her tongue. He lifted her hair, curiously, and then dropped to his knees to investigate her scent, his nose practically in her crotch. Her face flamed, but she didn’t move.

His expression was suddenly a lot less smug. “It’s faint, but she does smell like him.” He stared at her with a lot more curiosity now, which inexplicably made her feel shy. She ignored it.

Nappa rolled his eyes and stepped up to her, looking for more important tells. She watched him, warily, but allowed him to pull her sweater off her shoulder, exposing her neck.

Raditz gave a low whistle. “Well, someone’s been biting --” Literally: “Looks like he bit off more than he could--”

Nappa cut him off with a wave of his hand. If she’d had any idea what a mark like that meant, she wouldn’t have introduced herself as only his lover. Nappa had long ago given up trying to figure out how his Prince’s mind worked, but this was a next-level mess.

And…

His hand drifted lower, respectfully, hovering over her lower belly, searching. He dropped to his knees without thinking, automatically, and punched Raditz in the calf.

“Kneel, idiot, she is mother to the next heir of Vegetasei,” he said only. He wasn’t a kind man, but it seemed cruel even to him to add the rest when it was obviously unknown to her.

And the claimed mate of your Prince.

Which is how Bulma found herself with two loyal if somewhat feral Saiyan subjects, however much she tried to convince them otherwise.

Her parents were used to her “taking in strays” at this point. Her mother was delighted to host “friends of Vegeta” and her dad greeted them warmly with only a little grumbling about moving up the R&D on his food replication tech with two more Saiyans to feed.

She convinced them without too much trouble not to blast her parents or anyone else into oblivion for neglecting to use Vegeta’s title, telling them that since he’d been living on Earth he had stopped using it.

Raditz was insufferably pleased that the first legendary to arise in millennia was from his own direct bloodline. He was desperate to find out more, convinced that he himself should be able to do it, too. At her insistence he agreed to wait to visit Goku until she could break the news herself, but he wouldn’t wait long.

That was going to be a fun conversation with Chichi.

Turns out, the two of them were indeed better conversationalists than Vegeta when it came to Saiyan culture, though the comparison wasn’t entirely fair. Nappa reminded her that all of Vegeta’s knowledge came from what he’d learned as a young child, or from a book, or his elders. He’d experienced none of Vegetasei’s culture or society as an adult himself.

She was ashamed of not having figured that out herself, as it should have been obvious.

“If he was insufferable, that was my doing,” Nappa told her, one night when they were sitting alone over coffee, the first and only Saiyan to take to the bitter Earth beverage. “He was a boy, tormented by a monster, told he was a Prince. Fortifying his pride and his power was all I could do for him.”

“He would hate that you’re telling me this,” Bulma said.

“Which one of us is going to tell him?” Nappa asked.

She sighed. “Either of us, if he asked.”

He grunted, pleased with the loyalty in her answer, however difficult it might make life for them both.

If he ever comes back, Bulma thought.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her, however hard he tried.

He trained to utter exhaustion, in the most extreme conditions he could produce, and still she haunted him.

Unexpectedly, there was a monitor in the ship connected to a camera in her lab, an old feed that had never been disconnected. There was a fearful symmetry in the way he watched her now, the same way she had observed him in the beginning.

She didn’t spend much time at her desk, but he would catch her, now and then, eating instant noodles, drawing schematics, engine grease smeared on her cheek, in her hair. Sometimes he saw the remnant of tears, or dark circles from lack of sleep, but in general she looked like she was doing well, doing better than him.

The curve of her belly appeared overnight as if from nowhere, and he watched it increase with growing dread. No matter what he had said to her or himself, he kept thinking desperately that she was alone, unprotected, it was his duty to be close, to make sure both she and the child were safe. The way he had never been safe.

He was not the kind of man who should have offspring. He knew nothing of fatherhood other than the distant man who’d made a feckless bargain to save himself by giving his son over for certain abuse.

He should not be a father, he had never wanted to be. But it was happening whether he’d willed it or not, and suddenly the terror that he’d never ascend wasn’t only about himself anymore. The androids were coming -- had already come, the boy had said, and Earth had been crushed beneath them.

He had to ascend, he had to, and for once Kakarot wasn’t in his thoughts at all.

In his nightmares of failure, he didn’t dream of his own death anymore.

Only hers.

#vegebul fanfiction #vegebul #vegeta #vegeta x bulma #bulma

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one-that-had-to · 6 years

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Exequy

“Who the hell thought it was a good idea to have an underground base?!” Bradford looks up at the sound of a woman’s voice echoing throughout the upper portions of the base, then looks down at his daemon. “I think our Commander’s just arrived,” the wolfdog says. He nods. “Let’s go say hi.”

Despite the shouting, he can’t imagine how having the base underground could be and issue. He assumes the Council had taken the various natures of the senior staff into account when they built it, and it seemed they hadn’t done too bad a job. He and Verena felt right at home in enclosed spaces. A small pool had been installed in Engineering that Doctor Shen’s otter could use. The labs were even spacious enough that Vahlen’s little shrike could fly around with ease. The Council had, apparently, not taken into consideration their Commander. One of the Council’s lackeys approaches them, a woman dressed to the nines with a sparrowhawk sitting on her shoulder following him. “Officer Bradford!” he says, clearly relieved to be able to rid himself of the woman. “This is Commander Tatiana Mercier. Commander Mercier, Central Officer John Bradford.” The Commander’s glare softens when she turns to him and she manages to force a smile onto her face. “Look forward to working with you. Please don’t mind the first impression, I haven’t slept in nearly thirty hours,” she says, shaking his hand. The moment they break it, she turns back to the representative, her fury returning to her expression. “Which, by the way, the Council fucking owes me. I had to get on the first flight out? They couldn’t have waited a day? Or at least nine hours? Honestly!” The sparrowhawk screeches in agreement. The representative offers her a shaky smile and points her towards the hallway to the staff’s quarters. “I’ll let the Council know about your complaints, Commander. Your quarters are down that hall, on the right, if you’d like to get some rest. Unless you think she’ll be needed, Officer?” he asks turning back to Bradford. He shakes his head, seemingly to the relief of both of them. “I can handle duties for the rest of the day,” he assures. “You’re my hero already,” the Commander says, flashing him a more genuine smile. Without waiting another moment, she grabs the keys from the representative and stalks off. The lackey sighs, exhausted. “Do you know if your comms device can reach the surface?” he asks, turning back to Bradford. “I don’t believe it can.” “You’ll likely have to fetch her from the surface fairly often, then. I’d see if Doctor Shen can rig up a solution for you.” The representative turns to leave, rubbing his forehead. Verena presses against his leg, dragging his attention back to reality. “She seems… interesting,” she says. He reaches down to scratch behind her ears appreciatively. “Hopefully she keeps that aggression aimed at the aliens.”

He finds her on the surface one evening after a particularly brutal terror attack, watching Přemysl swoop and soar in the distance, a bottle of beer in one hand. “You alright?” he asks, leaning against the wall beside her. Verena takes the opportunity to stretch her legs as well, pacing within range of Bradford. “Depends on how you define ‘alright,’” she says casually. “However you define it.” “No, I’m not alright. Too many people are dead already, I nearly lose my voice screaming at the council daily, and I get the feeling that this is just the beginning.” She whistles and raises her arm up. Like a flash of lightning, her daemon dives and lands on her arm, blood welling where talons meet flesh. He flinches, but it does not seem to faze the Commander. “I always had the feeling I’d die underground. Thought it might have been part of the reason Přemek settled on a bird,” she muses. The sparrowhawk hops up her arm to settle on her shoulder again. She glances over at him. “How about you? Verena looks nervous, to say the least.” “We’ve been better,” he admits. “I’ve been trying to look on the bright side of things, but it gets harder every day.” She nods in agreement and takes a swig of beer. “Better take happiness where you can find it, now. Technically we saved enough civilians to keep the Council happy, so there’s that. And we might all be able to get one full night’s rest before another attack happens.” He hesitates for a heartbeat. Now is not the time, but it is never the time. At least here, in this moment, he knows no one will interrupt them - not the council, not their soldiers, not the aliens. “The best thing to come of all this might be meeting you.” The admission takes her aback, almost choking on her beer. When she recovers and turns to look at him again, some of the bright burning passion from earlier has worked its way back into her eyes. “Finally,” she grumbles, reaching out to grab his tie and drag him into a kiss.

He sees the muton crack the Commander’s skull open and he thinks maybe, just maybe, she had a good reason to believe she’d die underground.

Verena searches the clinic while he breaks the tank open. The suit has no room for a sparrowhawk inside it as well, she they know he must be around somewhere. He refuses to even consider the other alternative. He hoists the suit over his shoulder as Kelly blows open a portion of the wall. He turns to find Verena approaching him, empty handed. “He’s not here. Not even his scent,” she says, a look of worry in her eye. Alien shouts grow closer. “We don’t have time, we have to move.” They all run to evac.

Tygan’s surgery goes better than expected, but she sleeps for three days afterwards. Bradford feels it a curse, but he recognizes that she has a long road to recovery before her. Regardless, whenever he isn’t needed elsewhere on the ship, he keeps vigil. She is visibly disoriented when she wakes. She looks at him blankly and tries not to let his hurt show. It’s not until she spots his daemon that everything starts to click. “Verena?” she interrupts, voice rough from disuse. “John? What the fuck happened?” Like ripping a bandage off, he thinks. “It’s been twenty years. A lot’s changed without you, and the archives will probably be more help with that than I am,” he explains. She nods weakly and glances around the quarters. “Where’s Přemek?” Silence stretches between them like the river Styx. “Where’s Přemek?” “He wasn’t at the clinic where you were held,” Verena answers. She rests her chin on Bradford’s knee to look at her apologetically. Tatiana collapses back into bed and throws an arm over her eyes. She looks worse than when they’d pried her from the suit, and that thought makes him feel sick. “It doesn’t hurt. He has to be nearby, the army didn’t make us stretch that far,” she mumbles. “We’ll find him,” he assures quietly, squeezing her hand. He hopes to any god that’ll listen that they will.

Shen gets the Avenger up into the sky, a miracle in of itself. When he’d first heard about the commandeered ship Bradford had been skeptical, but not without hope. If he were honest, he’d admit that his first thought was about the Commander and her distaste for being underground. A flying base should have delighted her, but without Přemysl at her side nothing seemed to matter anymore. They touch down near the Reaper’s headquarters safely, to the relief of the crew. The Commander, meanwhile, clings to the railing of the geoscape, trembling. “I don’t feel anything,” she whispers for only him to hear. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and he can feel Verena lingering just a hair’s breadth away from her as well. “He has to be somewhere. Maybe stasis separated you completely,” he suggests. “No, I don’t feel anything. I don’t- I think- He’s not-” He drags her into a hug so she doesn’t have to face her thoughts.

The Commander stiffens when Volk boards the ship. A great golden eagle sits on his shoulder, just barely finding the space to perch. She keeps her focus on the man, and not the daemon. “So you’re the Commander I’ve heard so much about,” he says, offering his hand. “John couldn’t stop going on about you over the years.” “Pleased to meet you. Central’s told me much already,” she says. She shakes his hand and smiles, though it does not reach her eyes. Volk runs his gaze over her, down then up then back down to settle on her exposed forearm. Almost immediately he pulls his hand back, as though he touched a hot stove. “Where’s your daemon?” he demands. He brings his hand up to rub his eagle’s chest, comforting her. “I recognize those scars, you should have an eagle, too, or a hawk.” The Commander’s shoulders slump and she crosses her arms. “I don’t know,” she says. Bradford can tell she’s trying to sound like the Commander he’s told stories about and not the broken woman she is now. He hopes that no one else can catch the effort she’s putting in to sound normal. “The aliens must have done something to him, to us.” “You’re no better than those ADVENT bastards,” he snaps, stepping back. “Volk,” Bradford warns lowly. Verena growls as well, causing Volk’s daemon to flutter her wings. “Daemon or not, she’s our only hope to fight back. Trust me.” “I trust you, John, I don’t trust daemon-less monsters.” The Commander does not react. “I’ll contact you when I think you’ve proven yourselves trustworthy. Until then, don’t expect any help from the Reapers.” With that, Volk turns and stalks out of the quarters and out of the Avenger, muttering under his breath the whole way. “Hopefully the crew doesn’t hear him. It’s best if they think I have something small hidden away,” the Commander muses. “No one’s going to try to get you to leave. I won’t allow it.” She shrugs and takes a seat on a sofa, then starts to flick through her tablet. “They’d have every right to want me gone.”

Despite their best efforts, rumors spread quickly through the Avenger. The soldiers see the scars that line the Commander’s arms while she trains them and things only grow worse from there. She works hard to earn their trust otherwise, and the squad returning from successful mission after successful mission seems to do the trick. No one outright calls for her removal, but that doesn’t mean they are comfortable with her. Bradford can almost see the relief on the Commander’s face when they finally make contact with the Skirmishers. Betos welcomes her with open arms, not even considering the absence of a daemon something to fret over. To them, there is nothing wrong with her. They talk long into the night about horrors that he has no hope of understanding, but the relief on the Commander’s face is obvious so he leaves them be and goes to bed alone that night. In the morning they get word of a retaliation strike in western Africa that they must deal with, cutting any more talk short. “We’ll be back soon, surely,” the Commander says apologetically as they see Betos off the ship. “We understand. You have a duty to your people that cannot wait,” Betos says with a faint smile. “By the time you return, I hope to have some information regarding your request.” They both shake hands with Betos and watch as she returns to her base. Bradford turns to glance at the Commander. He can see the tension has creeped back into her shoulders already. “Request?” “Personal favor. Don’t know if anything will come of it,” she answers, shrugging. She turns and heads back into the ship to prepare. Verena presses against his leg and whines, urging him to head back inside as well.

At their next meeting, Betos hands the Commander a datapad wordlessly. The Commander smiles and thanks her, then tucks it into her coat and continues as though nothing happened. Even when they’ve retired for the night, the Commander does not look at the datapad, but likewise does not let it out of arm’s reach. Whatever it could possibly contain terrifies her, he knows her well enough to be sure of this. Verena lays half atop her when they go to sleep, as if she could hope to be enough to replace what she’s lost. He wakes not to an alarm indicating another attack, nor to any of their comms devices begging for their attention, but instead to Tatiana awake in the middle of the night, sitting against the headboard and watching something on the datapad repeatedly. It’s a reaction he’s come to know so well over their time together. She repeatedly watches footage from battle when they lose a soldier, to improve her tactics and to mourn. “Tanya?” he mumbles. “It’s late.” She doesn’t react other than to restart the video. Verena whines and wriggles back into her lap. That, at least, urges her to lay a hand on her head and scratch behind her ear. He pushes himself up and leans against her shoulder to watch the video with her. On the screen is the cursed stasis suit that he’d so come to hate lying on a table. A thin man comes in from off screen, half dragging Tatiana in with one arm and Přemysl tucked under the other. The vacant look in her eyes tells him all he needs to know: mind controlled. He knows he should grab the datapad and throw it against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes off of it. The thin man dumps Přemysl onto the table in an unceremonious heap of feathers and goes to help Tatiana into the suit. He sees Přemysl push himself up and screech at the alien, but he can’t seem to do much more. One of his wings sticks out to the side awkwardly and he thinks he can see a dark patch on his belly that can only be blood. The moment the stasis suit is sealed, Přemysl collapses into a pile of dust and dissipates into the air. Tatiana restarts the video without a word.

#xcom #daemon au #tatiana mercier #bradford #one shot #volk #betos

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raywritesthings · 6 years

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Lost in Translation 8/?

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: In a universe where people are born with the name of the person destined for them displayed on their skin, intergalactic soulmates can be rather difficult to navigate. AO3 link

Donna woke half-curled up on her side on top of the covers and with her phone still plastered to her cheek. Her mother had kept her up most of the night talking and eventually she’d laid down only interjecting with the occasional “Yeah” or “Mm-hm”, and she must have drifted off at some point.

She was still wearing the shift she’d been given by the Puritans before they’d decided to have her executed. She’d struggled out of the top layers of the dress before nodding off. Donna stood and undid the ties on it, allowing the garment to join its fellows in a crumpled heap on the floor. She continued on to her en suite and started the water for a bath. She deserved it after the day she’d had yesterday.

Donna sank into the bath with a sigh, her body relaxing even if her mind didn’t. Because once she left the relative safety of her room, she’d have to face what almost happened last night.

She slid down until just her nose poked out over the water. What had she been thinking? Get rid of the mark, then make the move. Not, well, that.

He hadn’t been helping, of course, what with those brown eyes and soft words and holding her just as long. Did he not get she was in a crisis here?

Would the Doctor be expecting them to pick up right where they’d left off before her mum rang? Donna couldn’t put him off — and didn’t want to — without making it seem like she wasn’t interested. Then she would miss her chance. But if things moved too quickly, she wouldn’t have a chance to get her mark removed.

Then again, she knew the Doctor would never pressure her for more than she was prepared to give. He just wasn’t the sort. As long as Donna didn’t lose her head, they could start this whatever it was now, then she could find someplace to have the removal done, and afterwards they could move things forward at whatever pace suited them.

Relief swept through her at having solved things. Maybe she was a little brilliant like he said. Donna washed up, then hurried back into her room to get dressed. She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or nerves that had her so eager to find her Spaceman, but she didn’t want to give the doubt even a moment to creep in.

Locating the Doctor proved to be easier said than done. He wasn’t in the console room, for a start, and when Donna took the corridor leading to the library, she didn’t find him either.

“Doctor?” Had he gone off to sleep somewhere? She’d never gotten an answer to where his room was. That was changing.

But she heard the kettle whistle as she passed the kitchen. Poking her head in, she spotted the Doctor at the stove. “Been looking for you.”

He turned around, grinning. Donna had to bite her lip to keep from doing so as well. God, and she’d thought she could wait. “Good morning! Breakfast won’t be a minute.”

He’d set everything up as if just waiting for her arrival to begin. Donna could get rather used to that. Soon enough there were eggs sizzling and toast popping out of toaster, both of which he served to her on a plate.

“Bit on the light side. Don’t want to spoil your appetite.” The Doctor hadn’t even made anything for himself, and instead took the skillet over to the sink to start the washing up. She wondered if he just couldn’t sit still.

“And why not?”

“I’ve got just the trip for you today,” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Yep. Called the Shan Shen market. Brilliant place! Booths all up and down the main streets selling anything you can imagine. And the food! Oh, you’re gonna love it.”

He went on babbling about their upcoming trip just like any morning. Was that it? They weren’t even going to talk about what had happened? Did he think she didn’t want to because she’d run off? Or did he not want to? Was he trying to pretend it hadn’t happened?

“Finished your tea?” He was stood by her chair all of a sudden, and she blinked.

“Sure. You haven’t even touched yours.” Donna prodded at the second mug she had prepared across from hers.

“I’ll get something there,” he dismissed, then took both of her hands to pull her up from the chair. “Off we go, then. Allons-y!”

It was hard not to get swept up in his enthusiasm even if Donna had about a million questions flying through her head, and it was even harder once they’d exited the TARDIS into a totally new world. There were cars flying hundreds of feet in the air!

They made their way through the small crowd of people milling about the booths, and Donna thought she’d lost him for a moment before the Doctor returned to her side with two foaming mugs. He looked practically giddy as he passed one to her.

Donna tried to beg off. “I’d rather have a water.”

“You are going to love it,” he insisted. “One, two, three.” They both raised the mugs to their lips and took a gulp. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it was sort of sweet with just a hint of spice.

“Lovely!” Donna couldn’t help a laugh, both at the surprise of how delicious the drink was and the foam that had gotten on his upper lip.

They finished their drinks while they walked along. Donna wouldn’t mind a couple passes back and forth; there was just so much to see!

“You have to get something while we’re here,” he insisted, steering her towards one of the booths. “Nobody ever leaves Shan Shen without a souvenir.”

“Didn’t know you bought into that sort of thing,” she remarked but dutifully began scanning the items on display. This particular vendor looked to specialize in jewelry. Donna browsed through the necklaces and picked up one to examine. It was a simple cord with something round and smooth like a pearl on the end, about the size of a golfball. It was a sort of blueish color with a dark center.

“That’s not a bad pick.” The Doctor placed his hand over hers and began tilting it and the necklace she held. “They call it the sunflower stone, because if it catches the light just right…”

“Oh!” The edge around the darkened center shone bright gold. Donna looked round to find him smiling at her.

“Good, isn’t it? Excuse me,” he called to the merchant manning this particular booth, who looked to be finishing up a sale.

“Are we interested in buying something today?”

“Yes, how much for the necklace?”

The merchant held out a hand and Donna obligingly passed the it over. “This? Ah yes, the hidden beauty. Found it at the bottom of the ocean, polished by the waves and sand for thousands of years before that. A very good choice for the lady, sir. I will not part with it for less than five-hundred.”

“Five-hundred?” The Doctor made a face but reached into his coat. Donna’s eyes went wide as she grabbed at his arm.

“No, no, you are not spending that much on me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “No?”

“No,” she repeated.

The Doctor nodded, but, rather than leave, he turned back to the merchant. “You heard the lady. You’re asking too much. Why not halve it?”

“Half? Absolutely not,” the man said.

“Well, we’ve got a problem, then, because — do you see her eyes?” Donna pressed her lips together and hoped to God she wasn’t blushing as the Doctor gestured to her. “Rings of gold just the same. They’re a perfect match. I mean, you can’t imagine finding someone more suited for it, can you?” He gave an exaggerated shrug. “You see the problem? I just have to have it for her.”

There was a pause as the merchant clearly considered, then bit out, “450.”

The Doctor was already shaking his head. “Oh, come on! 300.”

Donna walked on as the Doctor continued to haggle. She wasn’t sure she’d survive hearing him go on about her eyes twice in a row. Truth be told she couldn’t believe he’d just done it a first time!

This was...this was a date, wasn’t it? Maybe neither of them had said it, but that’s what they were doing. Here, at the beach, even Agatha Christie and the 20s had started out this same way. Only now there was an energy, an intent that hadn’t been there before that near-kiss last night.

Donna had worried he was trying to let her down, and it turned out he was just trying to do this properly. She looked back at him haggling away and allowed a full find smile to spread across her face.

Tonight, she’d tell him how she felt — or maybe he would; who knew what he had planned next? — and the first chance she got she’d ask to visit home. Donna knew she could count on Gramps to keep her Spaceman occupied while she pretended to run an errand for her mum. She’d have to call ahead, and she had a bit of money saved up — not like she was using it traveling the universe — and she could have the removal done and put that whole mess behind her. Her future was with the Doctor, and Donna wasn’t about to lose that for anything. With a determined nod, Donna walked on.

A woman called out to her, a fortune teller. “Your life predicted, the future foretold.”

“Oh, no thanks,” said Donna.

“Don't you want to know if you're going to be happy?”

“I'm happy right now, thanks.”

The woman wouldn’t let up, though, and when she offered to do it for free Donna relented. Maybe she was hoping to drum up some business, and it’d be a new experience at the least.

For being on a totally different planet, it seemed fortune telling worked pretty similarly to Earth. There was the little round table, the cloth draped over everything, and the first thing the woman did was take her hand and start reading her palm. About the only thing missing was the crystal ball.

“I can see...a man.”

Donna couldn’t help a scoff. Typical. At least she hadn’t paid anything!

“The most remarkable man,” the fortune teller continued. “For a most remarkable woman. Two halves coming together, drawn by fate—”

“Yeah, we’re not actually soulmates,” Donna decided to help her out.

“Then how did you meet him?”

“You’re supposed to tell me.”

The fortune teller looked up from her palm. “I see the future. Tell me the past. When did your lives cross?”

“It’s sort of complicated,” said Donna. “I don’t know anything about fate, but I ended up in a spaceship on my wedding day. Long story.”

“But what led you to that meeting?” The woman pressed.

Donna shrugged. “All sorts of things. But my job, I suppose. It was on Earth, this planet called Earth, miles away. But I had this job as a temp. I was a secretary at a place called HC Clements.”

It was like suddenly she was at HC Clements again, sitting at that old desk and Lance across the way, pointing at the coffee machine. Donna swayed and came back to herself in the tent.

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s the incense,” the fortune teller told her. “Just breathe deep. This job of yours? What choices led you there?”

“There was a choice, six months before,” she said, and she could see it again. Her and her mum sitting in the car nattering on about Mr. Chowdry and his photocopy business. Only she could hear the fortune teller, too.

“Your life could have gone one way or the other. What made you decide?”

“I just did.” Donna didn’t like this much anymore. Something felt off. Why was she being so insistent? Why did it matter how she’d met the Doctor?

“But when was the moment? When did you choose?”

She couldn’t focus properly. It was like there were two conversations happening at once, her mum in the car and the fortune teller both urging her to turn right. “Stop it,” Donna said, not sure to whom she said it to.

Something latched onto her shirt. “What’s that?” She asked, trying to turn around, but the woman wouldn’t let go of her hands. “What’s on my back?”

“Make the choice again, Donna Noble, and change your mind,” the fortune teller commanded. “Turn right.”

Donna didn’t know what had come over her. There was something on her back, but she couldn’t see it, and she couldn’t remember why she hadn’t turned right anymore. She heard herself speak. “I’m turning…”

—-

Donna sat in the car wondering why she’d even offered her mum a lift on the way to the agency. Probably because it was her mum’s car. She really needed to look into getting one of her own. Maybe a Smart?

Her idle wondering couldn’t completely drown out her mother’s tirade, of course. Donna was pretty sure nothing could.

“Well, let me tell you, sweetheart. City executives don't need temps, except for practice,” said her mother. “Your time’ll be up soon as they’ve met their soulmate, then the job will be over, too.”

Did she always have to remind her? It wasn’t her fault she didn’t have someone’s name she could expect to run into someday. A little fun here and there was all she reasonably aim for.

But was that what she wanted? Her forties were fast approaching, as her mum also liked to bring up constantly. Fooling around would have to stop eventually. And if she couldn’t hope for a husband, than she might as well have a career to point to whenever someone asked what she was doing with her life.

“Yeah,” Donna sighed. “Suppose you’re right.” She switched the turn signal and made the right towards Griffin’s Parade and Mr. Chowdry’s.

She actually landed the job at his photocopy place and before six months was up had been promoted to personal assistant. Her mum really had been right after all! It was nice not having her calling up nagging all the time, nice not worrying about how she was going to cover the rent once her time at this or that office was up. She had roots, if not in a personal life then in a professional one.

Donna went out with some mates on Christmas Eve. What, just because she didn’t much like the holidays didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a good drink! It was a good bit of fun; Nerys couldn’t make it, and Donna even surprised herself with her goodwill by buying a couple rounds for their table.

She couldn’t help noticing Alice acting a bit funny, though. “What's wrong? What is it?” Alice blinked. “Sorry?”

“Did someone spill a drink on me?” “Why?” Asked Alice, as if she had know idea what Donna was talking about. “Why do you keep looking at my shoulder? What's wrong?” “I don't know.” Donna rolled her eyes. “Oh, don't tell me you're getting all spooky again. It was bad enough when you saw the ghost of Earl Mountbatten at the boat show. What are you looking at? What is it?” “It's like,” Alice struggled for a moment, then continued, “it's like there's something I can't see.”

Then a man burst into the pub shouting about a Christmas star, so of course they all had to go see what he was on about or if he was just drunk.

But sure enough, there was a something. It was huge and silver, just hanging in the air above them. Donna wasn’t sure if that was tinsel supposed to be covering it. It looked more like webbing. Regardless, it was incredible and impossible...and Donna felt like she’d seen it before. Was it from some movie?

“That's not a star. That's a web,” she stated with a confidence she didn’t know she had. “It's heading east. Middle of the City.”

Then electricity began shooting from the star and Donna found herself in a movie. Part of the faceless crowd getting killed, that figured.

She was about to run for cover like all the rest, but when she looked over her shoulder Alice was staring at her again. “Alice! There's a great big web star thing shooting at people, and you're looking at me?”

Alice met her eyes, looking horrified. “There is something on your back.” Then she ran for it.

Donna watched her go, then looked back at the star. What was going on? Why did she feel like she’d been through this before? She began to walk, unheeding of Veena’s calls for her to come back.

Her feet led her down to Canary Wharf. There were soldiers in red berets and tanks and a barricade. They fired on the star, and it finally stopped shooting electricity. Donna walked all the way to the edge of the barricade. People were being warned to keep back, but she didn’t listen like the rest of them. She snuck around the back of a truck and watched as one of the soldiers spoke into a radio.

“From the evidence, I'd say he managed to stop the creature. Some sort of red spider. Blew up the base underneath the barrier, flooded the whole thing. Over.” “And where is he now? Over.” “We found a body, sir. Over.” “Is it him? Over.” “I think so. He just didn't make it out in time.”

There was a stretcher being wheeled out that they’d laid a sheet over. As it was jerked to a halt in order to be lifted, a man’s arm fell out from under the sheet, a strange little pen that had been in his hand clattering to the ground.

“The Doctor is dead.” The soldier on the radio said some other things, but Donna found she wasn’t really listening. She could only stare until the body had been loaded into the back of the ambulance and the doors had slammed shut. Then she backed away from the horrible sight.

Why had she come out here? Anything could have happened to her. She could have died. But something had drawn her just as it was now repelling her.

She was so lost in thought she nearly didn’t notice the woman running towards her until she was upon her.

“What happened? What did they find?” She stopped just a few paces beyond Donna. “I'm sorry, did they find someone?” “I don't know,” said Donna, still in a bit of a daze. “A bloke called the Doctor, or something.”

“Well, where is he?” The woman demanded. She was young and blonde, Donna noted. “They took him away. He's dead.” The look on the other woman’s face had her asking, “I'm sorry, did you know him? I mean, they didn't say his name. Could be any doctor.” “I came so far.” “It- it could be anyone,” Donna tried to reassure her again.

The woman seemed to be trying to shake it off. “What's your name?” “Donna. And you?” “Oh, I was just passing by. I shouldn't even be here. This is wrong. This is so wrong.” Donna couldn’t help agreeing with her, though she said nothing aloud. She’d just noticed the woman kept trying to glance over her shoulder. “Sorry, what was it? Donna what?” “Why do you keep looking at my back?” “I'm not,” the blonde immediately insisted, even as she continued to do so.

“Yes, you are. You keep looking behind me. You're doing it now. What is it? What's there? Did someone put something on my back?”

She turned her head to check herself and when she looked back the blonde woman was gone. Donna hadn’t even heard her walk away.

When she finally made it back to her parents’ home it was late, but she found them both awake watching the news.

“There she is.” Her dad stood and wrapped her in a hug. “Your mum’s been worrying.”

Barely had he let her go when her mum started right up. “Veena phoned. Said you ran down to the wharf. What were you thinking? You could’ve been hurt. ”

“That was all done by the time I got there. I don’t know why I had to,” Donna confessed. “Guess I just wanted to see.”

“Well it wasn’t safe,” Her mother chided. “They’re saying the Thames has completely drained.”

“I know. There was a man they pulled out. He- he drowned — sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying about it all of a sudden.” Her dad had passed her his handkerchief, and she dabbed at her eyes. “Must have just hit me.”

“It’s a dreadful thing,” her father said as he patted her arm. “Drowned. Well he must have been caught up in it too fast to get himself out, poor fellow.”

It was the strangest thing. Donna couldn’t explain how, but for a brief second she wasn’t at home with her parents. Instead she was standing in some room made of concrete while water poured all around her, shouting up at someone, “Doctor! You can stop now!”

She came back to herself with a shake of the head. What had that been about?

“Donna, love, you alright?”

“Yeah, dad. Just tired. I think I’ll turn in early.”

Donna had the strangest dream that night. There was a man she’d never seen before standing in front of her and holding her hands. His eyes had been brown and full of warmth, but his smile had seemed sad all the same.

“Thank you, Donna Noble. It’s been brilliant. You’ve- you’ve saved my life in so many ways.”

There’d been the same soldiers in red berets standing behind him, and before she’d been able to ask, his hands had slipped out of hers, and he’d begun walking away.

“Hang on, what do you mean? Who are you? Where are you going?”

She’d watched him climb into the back of an ambulance and the soldiers drive him away, and it had felt wrong. Donna hadn’t been able to shake the thought that she was supposed to be there, too, wherever he was going. How was she supposed to save him if he up and left?

Of course upon waking up crying, Donna realized how ridiculous the whole thing was. She must have been all worked up from what she’d seen the night before. When had she ever done anything important, much less saved someone’s life?

She wiped at her eyes and splashed cold water on her face before heading downstairs for Christmas morning. There wasn’t much special about it; with Gramps stuck in hospital across the river there wasn’t really anyone to get them all in the spirit. They phoned him, of course, and passed presents around the table, and that was that. Same old life. Why had she expected that to change all of a sudden?

“There’s been nothing on the news about him,” Donna said a few days later. “That man they pulled out. I thought maybe I’d go to the service.” Maybe that blonde woman would be there and Donna could get her name and ask why she’d been staring at her back funny.

“He might’ve been homeless,” her mother suggested.

“I don’t think so. They called him a doctor.”

“Who did?”

“The soldiers that pulled him out.”

“Well how’d they know him?”

“How should I know?” Donna shrugged. “Not like I knew him.”

Donna soon forgot about him when her father’s diagnosis came back terminal. They tried treatments, of course, but though Donna tried to keep a positive attitude she just somehow knew. She was going to lose her dad.

Eventually, they simply brought him home from hospital and tried to make him comfy. Her mum hardly left his side, and once Donna heard him say, “That’s all I need, Sylvie.”

She took time off to make the funeral arrangements and stood with her mother all through the service and after at the grave. “Is it...worse?” She couldn’t help asking, despite something telling her she already knew the answer. “Knowing you were…?”

“I wouldn’t change a minute,” said her mother, eyes fixed on the headstone. Then she turned and left without another word.

Donna supposed her mother was right. After all, her father had had his soulmate and the family they’d built together with him to the very end. Could she ever hope to have that whenever it was her turn? Her job wasn’t about to hold her hand through it all.

It took ages for her to get to sleep that night, too caught up in grief and her own morbid wonderings. The pillow she cried into morphed into a man’s chest in her dreams, and the soothing beat of his heart with its strange rhythm finally let her drift off to a restful sleep. When she woke up without an arm wrapped around her or a hand rubbing her back in comfort, she felt lonelier than ever. She chalked it up to the mourning process and tried to forget about it.

Turned out her job wasn’t even going to hold her hand through next year. Donna barely got back into her routine before Mr. Chowdry was giving her the news she was being let go. She didn’t bother making a graceful exit — not like she’d be seeing any of those useless idiots ever again — and made sure to pack up whatever fit into the box she was given to collect her things.

She’d moved back home to help with her dad and now it seemed she’d be staying there a good while longer. Donna didn’t know how to feel about her mother’s apathy towards the whole situation, but she supposed she ought to be grateful it wasn’t causing a row.

Her Gramps didn’t seem to even register she’d been sacked; he was too engrossed in the news report about that hospital that had supposedly vanished and then came back. Aliens was his theory of course, which she and her mother both shot down.

“I am telling you it is getting worse, these past few years,” he insisted. “It's like, all of a sudden, they suddenly know all about us, and there's keen eyes up there and they're watching us, and they're not friendly.”

Donna volunteered to go out for chips just for something to do. Before she could make it very far, there was a flash of light and a loud noise up ahead, and a woman came running out in front of her. “Blimey! Are you alright? What was that, fireworks or—?”

She stopped, unable to believe her eyes for a minute. It was the same blonde woman from Christmas Eve!

She hardly seemed all that surprised to see Donna, asking her how she was and her eyes immediately drifting to her shoulder again.

“You’re doing it again,” Donna decided to tell her.

Things only proceeded to get weirder. The woman wanted to know what she was doing for Christmas, then suggested a getaway for her and her family.

“Can’t afford it,” Donna said bluntly.

“Well, no, you got that raffle ticket.”

Donna stiffened. “How do you know about that?”

“First prize, luxury weekend break. Use it, Donna Noble.”

“Why won’t you tell me your name?” Donna asked instead. The woman wouldn’t answer. “I think you should leave me alone,” she said, then turned and walked away.

Donna went back home and tried to put the whole strange meeting out of her mind. It must have been a lucky guess, her knowing about the raffle. It wasn’t like Donna had seen her following her around or anything. It was nothing.

She had a dream that night that Gramps met an alien and shook his hand. He kept showing it to her with a look of sheer wonder on his face. When Donna woke up, she tried to put that out of her mind, too.

In the end, Donna took the blonde’s advice. Not because she was worried or anything. Just that a luxury weekend break sounded nice. They could use that, the year they were having.

The hotel was brilliant. Their room was a bit of a squeeze, and poor Gramps ended up on the sofa, but it was a nice break away from home. She woke up early on Christmas morning, a first since she was a very young girl, and was getting ready for the day before either he or her mum had even woken up. She didn’t know why she was in such a good mood on Christmas of all days; maybe it was just that nice dream she’d had where some strange man had made it snow for her.

Her family had roused enough by the time the maid knocked with their breakfast, and she asked grandad to get the door while she finished fixing her hair.

The maid wheeled a whole cart in for them while her mum was going on about whatever program she had on the telly.

“Because I thought, nice early breakfast, and then we'll go for a walk. People always say that at Christmas. Oh, we all went for a walk. I've always wanted to do that. So, walk first, presents later, yeah?” She smiled at the thought, though none of her family appeared to have listened at all. Typical.

“Tienes algo en tu espalda.”

Donna turned around. “What?” Their maid was standing in the open doorway of the bathroom.

“Donna, look at the telly,” said her mother.

“Tienes algo en tu espalda,” the maid repeated. She was staring at Donna with the same kind of horror as Alice last Christmas.

“What does that mean? I don’t know what you’re saying,” she tried to explain.

“Tienes algo en tu espalda!” The maid shouted again, then turned and ran from the room. Donna could only stare.

“For God’s sake, Donna,” her mum said. “Don’t just stand there, come and look.”

“The object is falling on Central London. I repeat, this is not a hoax. A replica of the Titanic is falling out of the sky, and it's heading for Buckingham Palace. We're getting this footage from the Guinevere range of satellites.”

“Is that a film or something?” Donna asked. How could it possibly be real?

“The Royal Air Force has declared an emerg—” The broadcast cut off abruptly and seconds later the whole room shook.

They went outside with everyone else, and there was a towering cloud of smoke rising in the distance. Donna couldn’t believe it.

“I was supposed to be out there selling papers,” Gramps was saying. “I should have been there. We all should. We'd be dead.” “That's everyone. Every single person we know. The whole city,” said her mum. Donna shook her head. “Can't be.” “But it is. It's gone. London's gone.” Her Gramps looked at her. “If you hadn't won that raffle.”

The only reason she’d even entered it was because of that blonde...how had she known? Why had she warned her? When Donna looked over her shoulder, she saw the same maid from before staring right at her and pointing at her back.

Eventually, people began going back into their hotel rooms. Her family trailed in, still in a daze. Her mum began desperately calling up anybody she could get a hold of while her Gramps sat and watched the news with tears in his eyes. Donna didn’t know what to do with herself. London was a mushroom cloud, and all that maid had been able to do was stare at her. Just what did that mean?

People kept saying things, looking at her back odd. The only strange thing Donna could think of on her back was that stupid old mark — oh God, had people been catching sight of that? She’d thought for sure all her shirts and sweaters covered it up completely.

Donna retreated into the bathroom and stood facing away from the mirror, her hair tossed over one shoulder. She craned her neck to try and get a look, but her mark was definitely covered up. Donna tugged down on the hem of her sweater to see if maybe that was the problem, but—

“That’s not right,” she murmured. Donna hurriedly yanked the sweater over her head to get a proper look. Her mark was still there, but not all of it. Even if she had no bloody clue what it meant she’d had it long enough to know what it looked like. Some of the top circles were either totally or partially missing.

“Gramps?” She called, and the note of panic in her voice had him hurrying through the door.

“What is it, love?”

“Take a look at this. My mark, it’s not right. I mean less than usual.”

“Eh?” He stepped closer, peering at the strange symbols. “Looks smaller.”

“Yeah, some of it’s missing. Just gone. I don’t know when, but- but that’s not supposed to happen, is it? What’s it mean?”

Her grandad shrugged, at a loss. “Well, I don’t know, sweetheart. Never heard of that sort of thing before.”

Donna turned again to stare at it in the mirror. “But why’s it happening now? I mean what’s changed?”

Their stay at the hotel felt entirely short lived, even more so than it might have knowing they had nothing to return to. They were bundled instead into a hostel, overcrowded and grimy with barely enough food to go around. People were being put in queues for relocation, but it was longer for families that didn’t want to split up. The days seemed to drag on, with no one to talk to and nothing to do. Even if she hadn’t lost her job at poor Mr. Chowdry’s office, she’d have nowhere to work now. What were they going to do for money? The housing office didn’t seem to care; everybody knew the jobs were up in Glasgow, but where did they get sent? Bloody Leeds.

When they arrived in Leeds, they discovered they weren’t even to have a house to themselves. Practically another hostel. Rocco Colasantos introduced them all to his family and the Merchandanis with a cheer that might have grated on her were she not so exhausted. It said a lot that she was simply grateful to be able put her things down, even in their kitchen-turned-bedroom.

The narrow bathroom they were all going to share had a mirror at least. Donna shrugged out of her coat and examined her mark for the first time since they’d left the hotel. Even more of it had vanished into nothing, like it’d just been drawn in marker this whole time and was finally washing off. Donna reached back and touched the edge of it with her fingertips.

“Where are you going?” She wondered.

“Donna, I need the toilet.” Her mother knocked on the door causing it to swing open since she hadn’t shut it properly. “Are you still looking at that thing? What for?”

“Well it keeps disappearing, mum, look.”

Her mother didn’t bother, instead muttering, “Good riddance, if you ask me.”

“Yes, thank you mum,” said Donna, straightening out her shirt and pulling her coat on before she squeezed past her out of the bathroom.

“It’s just,” Donna whispered later in the darkened kitchen, her mother’s feet by her head as she laid on her stomach to face her Gramps. “I’ve lost my job, my home, everyone we know. I guess I figured I couldn’t lose anything else, but this...it feels like a part of me is just slipping away, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“I thought you weren’t interested in marks and all that. You said that stuff couldn’t be for you,” he reminded her.

“I know, but maybe I was wrong. I mean, something has to be making this happen.” A thought occurred to her. “You don’t think it’s cos he’s dead, do you? I don’t know when my mark started going away, but he could’ve been in London when that Titanic crashed.”

“Never known it to work that way, sweetheart. Look here.” He sat up, and Donna got onto her knees in order to see as he yanked down the collar of his shirt.

She smiled at the familiar letters. “Gran.”

“Same as ever.” Her grandad shuffled back around to look at her. “See, your grandmother passing on doesn’t change what she meant to me. If you let it, that person changes your whole world. You might pass them on the street and never know it unless you take that chance.”

Donna thought that over. “So you think I’ve lost my chance?”

Her Gramps shrugged. “I’ve no idea what to think.”

Donna kept track of her mark every day now. She wished she’d been paying attention to it before. Little by little it kept going away, like it was eroding. She sat down once with a spare bit of paper and tried to draw the whole thing, so she had some kind of record of it. It was clear in her mind, but the circles and whatnot were all nonsense to her and didn’t come out right whenever she tried to write it down.

“Ah, soulmates,” said Rocco with a knowing smile as he watched her failed attempts. Gramps had told him all about her problem to see if he had any ideas or heard of anything similar. He hadn’t, which Donna wasn’t much surprised by, but had begun asking around all their neighbors to see if anybody had a Donna on their back.

“Back home, you name means lady,” he told her one evening over the scraps they’d all managed to put together for dinner. “Beautiful lady! So, we find you a lord, yes?”

Donna shook her head with a wan smile. “Not sure there’s many lords walking around these days.” That radiation poisoning in the south probably got most.

At night, she didn’t dream of any lords. Instead, there was that same stranger holding her hand or folding her into the kind of warm, safe hug she craved during the day. She would laugh with him, run with him, and very nearly manage to kiss him before being woken by the shouts of the Merchandani children or an army jeep rolling past the house. Donna found herself missing a friend she’d never had more than the ones she’d actually lost.

The promised aid from America never came. Instead, Donna sat with the others and watched alien fat fly up into a spaceship, the fat of sixty million people. The bizarre urge to wave nearly came over her. Donna retreated to the kitchen.

She couldn’t help privately wondering if her mother was right; nothing was ever going to get better. It all felt so pointless, like all they could do was watch and wait for the next disaster.

The whole house pulled together that night, trying to forget for a moment with a bit of singing, only for shots to ring out just outside. Donna followed closely behind her Gramps and Rocco to see a soldier firing on his own jeep as a thick cloud of gas spewed from the exhaust pipe. They couldn’t get it to stop, not even by turning the vehicle off.

Then one of the soldiers look at her with wide eyes. “You, lady. Turn round! Turn around now!”

He pointed his gun at her, and Donna froze. What had she done?

Everyone was shouting; the soldier, her Gramps and Rocco, her mum. He kept pointing his gun. Slowly, Donna turned to show him her back as he kept demanding, her eyes squeezed shut and her arms raised above her head.

“Sorry,” said the soldier. “I thought I saw…” He trailed off, at a loss.

Her grandad started to rip into him for that. It was about the angriest she’d ever seen him.

She might have stuck around to watch, but a familiar flash of light appeared at the bottom of the street. Donna left them all and walked down to it, paying no attention to her mother’s cries for her to come back. Around the corner, she found the blonde.

They walked a bit and sat on a bench, far enough away from any of the army jeeps to be able to breathe just a little easier. The woman explained about the ATMOS devices in the cars and that someone was about to take care of it. Then the sky lit up in flames before clearing completely, the gas gone.

“That was the Torchwood team,” the woman told her. “Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones, they gave their lives. And Captain Jack Harkness has been transported to the Sontaran home world. There's no one left.” Donna didn’t like to think about that. This was them when they still had defense? “You're always wearing the same clothes. Why won't you tell me your name?” “None of this was meant to happen,” was the blonde’s non-answer. “There was a man. This wonderful man, and he stopped it. The Titanic, the Adipose, the ATMOS, he stopped them all from happening. Donna thought about it. There was only one man they sort of had in common, by a very loose interpretation. “That Doctor?” “You knew him.” Donna looked at her. “Did I? When?” “I think you dream about him sometimes. It's a man in a suit. Tall, thin man. Great hair,” She remarked. “Some really great hair.”

Donna frowned. How did the woman know what she was dreaming about?

“You've travelled with him, Donna. You've travelled with the Doctor in a different world.” “I never met him, and he's dead.” “He died underneath the Thames on Christmas Eve, but you were meant to be there. He needed someone to stop him, and that was you,” the woman said. “You made him leave. You saved his life.”

Donna had that same sudden flash of memory, the water raining down all around her in a wedding dress. “Doctor, you can stop now!” She could see the man more clearly now, great hair plastered to his forehead and water soaking his suit as he blinked down at her, like she’d broken him from some terrible trance.

She didn’t understand. She’d been meant to meet him? Like...destiny?

But they weren’t meant to meet. He’d died. Donna had seen it. This woman wasn’t making any sense. She stood from the bench with the heels of her hands pressed to her temples. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave me alone.”

“Something’s coming, Donna. Something worse.”

She went on about other universes, and needing the Doctor even though he was dead, and something called the darkness, and it was all just nonsense to her. As incomprehensible as what little remained of her mark.

“Well, what do you keep telling me for?” She finally burst out. “What am I supposed to do? I'm nothing special. I mean, I'm- I'm not. I'm nothing special. I'm a temp. I'm not even that. I'm nothing.” The woman grinned at her, like this was all just some fun game they were playing. “Donna Noble, you're the most important woman in the whole of creation.” Donna shook her head, a nasty sort of smile twisting her lips. “Oh, don't. Just don't. I'm tired. I'm so tired.”

“I need you to come with me,” the blonde insisted.

“Yeah, but it’s not really about me, though, is it?”

That got a frown.

“Cause I figured it out,” Donna continued. “The ‘something on my back’. There isn’t anything.”

The woman leaned slightly to the side. “No,” she said, “not sure what you mean.”

“But it’s disappearing. And that’s what’s different about me, that’s what makes me special or whatever, cause that’s not supposed to happen. Just take a look,” she demanded, pulling at the collar of her coat.

The blonde circled around behind her, slow and sort of wary, then peered down her shirt. “Hold on. This is your mark?”

“Used to be bigger,” Donna told her. “More circles. I could never figure out what they meant, cause they’re nothing like an alphabet.”

“I don’t think they’re even human,” the woman murmured.

“Wait, are you saying my mark’s in alien? Like all those things that have been coming here?” With her luck, her soulmate was one of the ones made out of fat.

“I didn’t know this could happen,” said the blonde, and when Donna looked back the other woman was blinking heavily, as if to stave off tears. “I thought it translated. It has to.”

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” the woman said quickly. Then she turned and began hurrying away. “Uh, three weeks, Donna!” She called back in reminder. Before Donna could say anything else, she faded away right in front of her. Like she’d never been there.

Donna couldn’t understand it. She’d thought she had figured out why this lady kept after her, only it turned out her vanishing mark had nothing to do with it.

Three weeks later they took the Colasantos away. Donna thought the image of them in that truck, so resigned and hopeless as it drove off faster than she could run, would never leave her. Nor would her grandfather’s tears. They’d been innocent people, what did it matter that they weren’t English enough for some?

Donna knew it wouldn’t stop there, either. Hadn’t they gotten this spot because the last family missed a payment? They needed money. But the representative she spoke with at the army said she wasn’t qualified and sent her on her way.

She told her mother, who barely left her bed anymore, as much when she got back to the house. “You were right. You said I should’ve worked harder at school. I suppose I’ve always been a disappointment.”

If anything could get her up and in spirits, it had to be that, right? Donna knew her mum could never resist having a go at her, particularly when she knew she was right.

But she didn’t even turn around. “Yeah.”

She found her grandfather out back with his telescope, one of the few possessions they’d managed to hang onto. If there was any benefit to all this, he didn’t need to climb a hill to stargaze; there wasn’t much light pollution in Britain anymore.

He didn’t ask about her job hunt; he could probably already tell by the look on her face.

“How’s your mark?”

“Almost gone,” she sighed. “Figures. He must have seen where my life was going and said ‘No thanks’. Not like I can do anything right, anyway.” She looked at him as he fiddled with the telescope. “I always imagined, your old age, I'd have put a bit of money by. Make you comfy. Never did. I'm just useless.”

He didn’t reply.

Donna narrowed her eyes. “You're supposed to say, no you're not.”

“Ha, it must be the alignment.” He kept fiddling with the telescope, growing increasingly agitated.

“What’s wrong?”

He had her look through the lens, but all Donna could see was darkness even as her Gramps insisted he’d had it pointed at Orion.

“It was there. An entire constellation. Your mark’s not the only thing going missing.” He sat back and gaped up at the dark sky. “Oh, my God! Donna, look. The stars are going out.”

She didn’t have to search very far for the blonde woman. When she found her, all Donna said was, “I’m ready.”

She was lead to a Land Rover, and they were driven away from Leeds. The whole journey to wherever they were going, the blonde kept sneaking glances at her.

“What?” Donna asked when her patience inevitably snapped.

“Sorry, it’s just. I should say sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re coming with me, Donna, and sorry, so sorry, but you’re going to die.”

They arrived at a warehouse. It was filled with more of those soldiers in their red berets and some scientists in lab coats. There was a circle of mirrors and a few feet behind that some blue box that Donna couldn’t seem to stop looking at, even when a woman stepped forward and saluted the blonde at her side.

“Ma’am.”

The woman dismissed the officer’s — Captain Erisa Magambo — formality, though it turned out the reason for the captain’s address was that she didn’t know the blonde’s name either. Apparently that was because of not wanting to wreck things with realities by saying too much, though Donna didn’t get why she’d told her so much about a dead Doctor she was supposed to have met, then.

The blonde and Captain Magambo started discussing whether something was awake. That turned out to be the blue box. There were a bunch of wires and cables running out of the doors and to the circle of mirrors which Donna thought she ought not to touch, but the blonde told her to go inside the box anyway.

Donna did. “No way.”

She couldn’t believe it, and had to dart in and out a few times just to confirm what she was seeing. How did that huge room fit inside that little box? It was too weird!

Donna had another flash of memory; this time the man in the suit was walking along at her side and saying, “It’s bigger on the inside, that’s all.”

Had she really done this before?

The blonde woman told her about the ship, that it had belonged to the Doctor and was dying without him. The whole world seemed to be dying without him, and Donna still couldn’t quite wrap her head around someone like that needing someone like her.

“Do you want to see it?” The blonde asked her, nodding to her back.

“No,” was her first answer. But she’d come all this way, and for whatever reason everything was going to get worse if she didn’t go through with it. “Oh, go on.”

She was led into the circle of mirrors and told to stand there as they activated it. For a moment Donna was blinded by the lights, but as she blinked the spots away she caught sight of her reflection — and the giant insect hanging onto her back.

Her breathing picked up, and she tried to hold back the panic as the woman explained.

“It feeds off time by changing time. By making someone's life take a different turn, like er, meetings never made, children never born, a life never loved. But with you, it's—”

“But I never did anything important.”

“Yeah, you did. One day, that thing made you turn right instead of left.”

Donna tried to think. Turning right? How many times had she done that? “When was that?”

“Oh, you wouldn't remember. It was the most ordinary day in the world. But by turning right, you never met the Doctor, and the whole world just changed around you.”

For some reason, Gramps’ words came back to her: “If you let it, that person changes your whole world. You might pass them on the street and never know it unless you take that chance.”

“I didn’t lose my chance,” she realized.

The blonde looked up. “What?”

“I didn’t lose my chance,” she repeated. “I didn’t miss it. It got taken from me. By this—this thing.” Donna gestured at her back. “That’s why my mark’s disappeared, cos my whole life changed. I never met him.”

“There’s a lot of people you were supposed to meet on your travels, Donna,” the blonde told her.

“This is not relevant to the mission,” said Captain Magambo.

“But I don’t get it,” said Donna, ignoring her.“You said I was meant to meet him.” She stared at the blonde, a horrible realization coming over her. “Were you lying? You just needed me for this, to be some kind of host?”

“No. No, Donna, I was wrong. You’re not just a host. We’re getting separate readings from you, and they’ve been there since you were born. I thought it was just the Doctor we needed, but it’s the both of you. The Doctor and Donna Noble, together—but to stop the stars from going out, not anything to do with marks.”

Donna felt overwhelmed. The woman had kept saying she was meant to be with this Doctor. Were they soulmates or weren’t they? She couldn’t concentrate while she could see the bug; it was just too horrible. “Turn it off, please.”

The captain did so.

“It’s still there, though,” she said. The blonde nodded. “What can I do to get rid of it?”

“You’re going to travel in time.”

Donna was kitted out with a jacket that weighed about half what she did with all the wires attached to it, a fancy watch of some kind, and a glass of water.

“Just remember, when you get to the junction, change the car's direction by one minute past ten.”

Their rudimentary machine was beginning to power up. Donna tried to prepare herself; she had no idea what time travel would be like, even though she’d apparently done it in another life. And would do it again, once she’d fixed everything.

She tried to recall those brief flashes from her dreams and memories of the man the blonde had claimed was the Doctor. She’d said he thought Donna was special. What did Donna think of him? Was it really worth risking everything on a time travel stunt none of these people were sure would work, just to get back to a world where they were together?

The only answer she could find within herself was yes.

“I’m ready,” Donna said aloud.

“One minute past ten,” the woman reminded her.

“Because I understand now,” Donna continued. “You said I was going to die, but you mean this whole world is going to blink out of existence. But that's not dying, because a better world takes its place. The Doctor's world. And I'm still alive.”

The blonde said nothing.

“That's right, isn't it? I don't die. If I change things, I don't die. That's- that's right, isn't it?” The pitying smile that came to the woman’s face made Donna‘s heart plummet. “I'm sorry.”

“But I can't die. I've got a future. With the Doctor. You told me!”

“Activate!” Shouted the captain. Sparks flew, and then Donna felt as though she was being pulled across an impossible distance in an unimaginably short time. The air left her lungs and she fell forward onto hands and knees.

The first thing Donna was aware of was the sounds around her. People walking and talking, cars driving, music from radios and speakers. A city. Her home, as if it had never been destroyed.

Donna could only gasp with joy for a brief moment before she realized something—this was Sutton Court. She was meant to be on Little Sutton Street. “I’m half a mile away. I’m half a mile away!”

She checked the watch she’d been given and felt another jolt of panic.

“Four minutes? Oh, my God.”

Donna leapt to her feet and started running. She couldn’t miss this, she just couldn’t. She didn’t even know what would happen if she did. But she had to stop herself turning right to ensure the survival of London, to keep the world from going to hell, and to save a man from drowning.

She ran until her leg muscles were burning, and the air was stabbing her lungs. It was 9:59 and she had only just made it to the end of Ealing Road. There was nothing left in her. She couldn’t run anymore.

“I’m not going to get there.”

Donna remembered the blonde’s words: “You’re going to die.”

A truck was trundling down the road towards her, and Donna finally understood what the plan had been all along. She closed her eyes and stepped off the pavement.

There were screeching brakes, then she was flying through the air and hitting the ground. Maybe it was shock, but she couldn’t quite feel the pain. There were people all around, and she didn’t know when they’d gotten there or what they were saying. She couldn’t even move.

Then through the crowd came the blonde. The woman leaned over her, face impassive. Donna wondered how she’d gotten here.

“Tell him this. Two words.”

Just as Donna’s eyes closed, the blonde whispered in her ear.

“Bad Wolf.”

Over that, she could hear her own voice. “I’m going left...left...left…”

Everything hurt, and nothing made sense. She was dead, but she wasn’t, and Donna screamed as time rewound and reformed.

The street and the blonde were gone, and she was sitting back in the fortune teller’s tent, everything coming back to her in a rush. Turning left, the job at HC Clements, meeting Lance, the wedding, the Doctor. It all made so much sense, and she was alive, and the universe felt right again.

Something fell off her, and Donna stood to see it was that same huge bug, it’s legs writhing for a moment before they stilled.

“What the hell is that?”

You were so strong,” said the woman. She was looking at Donna with a kind of terror. “What are you? What will you be? What will you be?!”

Before Donna could say anything, the fortune teller fled out the back.

Donna spun back around as the tent flap at the front was pushed up, revealing the Doctor. “Everything alright?”

He must have been looking for her. He was alive and safe and smiling and Donna had never felt such a relief before.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, almost stumbling as she came forward and threw her arms around him.

The Doctor returned her hug, though when she pulled back asked, “What was that for?”

How could she really explain? That she’d lived through nearly two years without him, and it had been awful and cold and lonely? That she hadn’t known what she was missing, only that it was so important? That she loved him?

Donna merely shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said, and hugged him again. In his arms, it all just felt like some horrible nightmare, and even now Donna was having trouble remembering it all.

“Hold on,” said the Doctor, stepping back but leaving his hands on her waist as he stared at something on the ground behind her. “What’s this?”

Donna looked over her shoulder and shuddered. Right, the bug. “That woman put it on my back, I think.”

He moved around her and crouched down to examine the thing. “It’s dead. How’d that happen?”

“I don’t know.” Donna watched him pick it up and move to the little table. He grabbed one of the incense sticks and began prodding at it. “It was strange. She was going on about me turning right instead of left and changing my life or whatever, only it all went sort of wrong.”

“Wrong?”

Donna took the unoccupied chair. “Well all these horrible things kept happening, aliens and whatnot, and no one could stop them because—well, you’d died.”

The Doctor stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. “Because you turned right?”

“I turned right and took this different job my mum wanted me to and cause I never went to HC Clements—”

“You never appeared in the TARDIS,” he finished for her. “Ah.” He nodded to himself, as if it made perfect sense that he’d died.

Donna reached out hesitantly and placed a hand on his arm. “Doctor—”

“The real question is, if I died, how can we be having this conversation? See, this thing is one of the Trickster’s Brigade.” He prodded at the beetle again. “Changes a life in tiny little ways. Most times, the universe just compensates around it, but with you? Great big parallel world. Funny thing is, seems to be happening a lot to you.”

Donna took her hand away. “How do you mean?”

“Well, the Library and then this. The fact you can even remember so much about this is something, even.”

“I remembered stuff from here when I was there,” she told him.

The same thing had happened in the Library. Miss Evangelista had pointed it out, that she’d been protected from the integration.

Donna shrugged it off. “Just goes with the job, I suppose.”

“Sometimes I think there's way too much coincidence around you, Donna,” said the Doctor. “I met you once, then I met your grandfather, then I met you again. In the whole wide universe, I met you for a second time.” He was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. “It's like something's binding us together.”

Donna sat back in surprise. That kind of talk people usually reserved for soulmates, and they were hardly— “Oh!”

“Donna?”

Her hand had darted to her back, and Donna tried her best to morph it into some kind of neck massage as the Doctor watched her with worry. But her mark. Had it come back?

Donna couldn’t explain the bubble of anxiety that still dwelled within her at the thought. Hadn’t she been wishing to get rid of it for weeks now? She knew she loved the Doctor, but she couldn’t quite forget the panic in that world as her mark had slowly faded away, like a door closing on her future.

Sure, she’d gotten things mixed up about who her soulmate was—that was one thing she’d never be able to tell him about that parallel world and live it down. But if the life she’d gotten back included a chance of meeting her actual soulmate...could she pass it up?

Somehow, not getting the job at HC Clements and not meeting the Doctor changed her destiny. Changed it so severely she lost her soulmate. That meant he had to be the key, didn't he?

And what if he was? Did she really want to know after all? Donna found she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it was important somehow.

“Look, I need you to do something for me, but before that...I’ve sort of got to come clean about something.”

She hesitated a moment longer. Could she really do this? Her life as it was now, that was what she’d dreamed of and died for in that other world.

The Doctor was watching her with those big brown eyes full of earnest concern. “Donna, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

The date, the necklace, everything—it wouldn’t be right, wouldn’t be fair to him if she wasn’t honest, would it?

“I lied about not having a mark—and I don't want to hear it, cause I already know about yours.”

“What?” The Doctor yelped.

“I’m not upset,” she said, for he’d lost all his color, and if his eyes grew any wider, they might just pop out of his skull. “I’m just saying, there's no reason for either of us to be upset since we both lied.”

“You know,” he repeated. “About my mark. And you're okay with it?”

“Of course I’m okay with it.” What, did he think he needed her permission to have one? “But see, my mark’s in some other language. It’s not from Earth, and the Library didn’t know it. Even the TARDIS won’t translate it for me. But I’m thinking maybe you’d know it or be able to find it if you don’t know what it says.”

The Doctor said nothing. He still seemed thrown by her confession, which she supposed was understandable. Probably wondering why she’d brought it up now after all this time. He had that look where he wasn’t actually seeing what he was staring at.

“Spaceman,” Donna tried again. He blinked and refocused on her. “Would you read it for me?”

His mouth opened, but it took a couple tries for him to form his answer. “Course.”

Donna took a deep breath. This was it. “Okay.” She stood up and turned her back to him, then held her hair to the side as she tugged her shirt collar down.

The silence was absolute save for her breathing. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected; a name rattled off, an exclamation of the language of origin, a sorry? But the moment stretched on...and on...and on. He had to have something by now, right?

“Doctor?” When he still said nothing. Donna turned around.

He was absolutely thunderstruck. She didn’t think he’d ever been so stunned, not even when she’d appeared on his TARDIS or spotted him across the room at Adipose Industries.

A nervous smile rose to her lips. “What’s that look about? What’s it say?”

Something was wrong, had to be.

“Doctor?”

#ten x donna #donna noble #tenth doctor #doctor who #the doctor #my writing

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coloneljamesmoriarty · 7 years

Text

The Xcom Discord Is A Bad Influence, Part Who-The-Hell-Knows-Anymore. Cause none of us would dare hurt an animal in our fics, but we just love suffering so much. Daemon AU.

“Who the hell thought it was a good idea to have an underground base?!”

Bradford looks up at the sound of a woman’s voice echoing throughout the upper portions of the base, then looks down at his daemon.

“I think our Commander’s just arrived,” the wolfdog says.

He nods. “Let’s go say hi.”

Despite her yelling, he can’t imagine how bad an issue having the base underground could be. He assumes the Council had taken the various natures of the senior staff into account when they built it, and it seemed they hadn’t done too bad a job. He and Verena felt right at home in enclosed spaces. A small pool had been installed in Engineering that Doctor Shen’s otter could use. The rooms were even spacious enough that Vahlen’s little shrike could fly around with ease.

The Council had, apparently, not taken into consideration their Commander.

One of the Council’s lackeys approaches them, a woman dressed to the nines with a sparrowhawk sitting on her shoulder following him. “Officer Bradford!” he says, clearly glad to have someone to pass the woman off to. “This is Commander Tatiana Mercier. Commander Mercier, Central Officer John Bradford.”

The Commander’s glare softens when she turns to him and she manages to force a smile onto her face. “Look forward to working with you. Please don’t mind the first impression, I haven’t slept in nearly thirty hours,” she says, shaking his hand. The moment they break it, she turns back to the representative, her fury returning to her expression. “Which, by the way, the Council fucking owes me. I had to get on the first flight out? They couldn’t have waited a day? Or at least nine hours? Honestly!”

The sparrowhawk screeches in agreement.

The representative offers her a shaky smile and points her towards the crew’s quarters. “I’ll let the Council know about your complaints, Commander. Your quarters are down that hall, on the right, if you’d like to get some rest. Unless you think she’ll be needed, Officer?” he asks turning back to Bradford.

He shakes his head, seemingly to the relief of both of them. “I can handle duties for the rest of the day,” he assures.

“You’re my hero already,” the Commander says, flashing a more genuine smile. Without waiting another moment, she grabs the keys from the representative and stalks off towards the quarters.

The lackey sighs, seemingly already exhausted from dealing with her. “Do you know if your comms device can reach the surface?” he asks, turning back to Bradford.

“I don’t believe it can.”

“You’ll likely have to fetch her from the surface fairly often, then. I’d see if Doctor Shen can rig up a solution for you.” The representative turns to leave, rubbing his forehead.

Verena presses against his leg, dragging his attention back to reality. “She seems… interesting,” she says.

He reaches down to scratch behind her ears appreciatively. “Hopefully she keeps that aggression aimed at the aliens and not the rest of the staff.”

He finds her on the surface one evening after a particularly brutal terror attack, watching Přemysl swoop and soar in the distance, a bottle of beer in one hand.

“You alright?” he asks, leaning against the wall beside her. Verena takes the opportunity to stretch her legs as well, pacing within range of Bradford.

“Depends on how you define ‘alright,’” she says casually.

“However you define it.”

“No, I’m not alright. Too many people are dead already, I nearly lose my voice screaming at the council daily, and I get the feeling that this is just the beginning.” She whistles and raises her arm up. Like a flash of lightning, her daemon dives and lands on her arm, blood welling where talons meet flesh.

He flinches, but it does not seem to faze the Commander.

“I always had the feeling I’d die underground. Thought it might have been part of the reason Přemek settled on a bird,” she mused. The sparrowhawk hops up her arm to settle on her shoulder again. She glances over at him. “How about you? Verena looks nervous, to say the least.”

“We’ve been better,” he admits. “I’ve been trying to look on the bright side of things, but it gets harder every day.”

She nods in agreement and takes a swig of beer. “Better take happiness where you can find it, now. Technically we saved enough civilians to keep the Council happy, so there’s that. And we might all be able to get one full night’s rest before another attack happens.”

He hesitates for a moment. Now is not the time, but it is never the time. At least here, in this moment, he knows no one will interrupt them. “The best thing to come of all this might be meeting you.”

The admission takes her aback, almost choking on her beer. When she recovers and turns to look at him again, some of the bright burning passion from earlier has worked its way back into her eyes. “Finally,” she groans, reaching out to grab his tie and drag him into a kiss.

He sees the muton crack the Commander’s skull open and he thinks maybe, just maybe, she had a good reason to believe she’d die underground.

Verena searches the clinic while he breaks the tank open. The suit has no room for a sparrow hawk inside it as well, she he knows he must be around somewhere. He doesn't want to even consider the other alternative.

He hoists the suit over his shoulder as Kelly blows open a portion of the wall. He turns to find Verena approaching him, empty handed.

“He's not here. Not even his scent,” she says, a look of worry in her eye.

Alien shouts grow closer.

“We don't have time, we have to move.”

They all run to evac.

Tygan’s surgery goes better than expected, but the Commander sleeps for three days afterwards. It's a curse to Bradford, but given everything that had happened it was probably for the best. Whenever he wasn't needed elsewhere on the ship, he kept vigil.

When she wakes, she is visibly disoriented. She looks at him with her brow furrowed and it's not until she spots his daemon that things start to click.

“Verena?” she interrupts, voice rough from disuse. *John? What the fuck happened?”

Like ripping a bandage off, he thinks. “It’s been twenty years. A lot's changed without you, and the archives will probably be more help with that than I am,” he explains.

She nods weakly and glances around the quarters. “Where's Přemek?”

Silence stretches between them like the river Styx.

“Where's Přemek?”

“He wasn't at the clinic where you were held,” Verena answers. She rests her chin on Bradford’s knee to look at her apologetically.

The Commander collapses back into bed, looking worse than when they’d pried her from the suit. “It doesn't hurt. He has to be nearby, the army didn't make us stretch that far,” she mumbles.

“We'll find him,” he assures quietly, squeezing her hand. He hopes to any god that'll listen that they will.

Shen gets the Avenger in the air again, and while most of the crew is worried about crashing, he's more worried about the Commander. He’d expect her to be delighted to have a skybound base instead of one buried under the earth, but without Přemysl at her side nothing seems to matter.

They touch down near the Reaper’s headquarters safely, to the relief of the crew. The Commander, meanwhile, clings to the railing of the geoscape, trembling.

“I don't feel anything,” she whispers for only him to hear.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders. “He has to be somewhere. Maybe stasis separated you completely,” he suggests.

“No, I don't feel anything. I don't- I think- He's not-”

He drags her into a hug so she doesn't have to face her thoughts.

The Commander stiffens when Volk boards the ship. A great golden eagle sits on his shoulder, just barely finding the space to perch. She keeps her focus on the man, and not the daemon.

“So you're the Commander I've heard so much about,” he says, offering his hand. “John couldn’t stop going on about you over the years.”

“Pleased to meet you. Central’s told me much already,” she says. She shakes his hand and smiles, though it does not reach her eyes.

Volk runs his gaze over her, down then up then back down to settle on her exposed forearm. Almost immediately he pulls his hand back, as though he touched a hot stove.

“Where’s your daemon?” he demands. He brings his hand up to rub his eagle’s chest, comforting her. “I recognize those scars, you should have an eagle, too, or a hawk.”

The Commander’s shoulders slump and she crosses her arms. “I don’t know,” she says. Bradford can tell she’s trying to sound like the Commander he’s told stories about and not the broken woman she is now. “The aliens must have done something to him, to us.”

“You're no better than those ADVENT bastards,” he snaps, stepping back.

“Volk,” Bradford warns lowly. Verena growls as well, causing Volk’s daemon to flutter her wings. “Daemon or not, she's our only hope to fight back. Trust me.”

“I trust you, John, I don't trust daemon-less monsters.”

The Commander does not react.

“I'll contact you when I think you've proven yourselves trustworthy. Until then, don't expect any help from the Reapers.”

With that, Volk turns and stalks out of the quarters and out of the Avenger, muttering under his breath the whole way.

“Hopefully the crew doesn't hear him. It's best if they think I have something small hidden away,” the Commander muses.

“No one's going to try to get you to leave. I won't allow it.”

She shrugs and takes a seat on a sofa. “They'd have every right to want me gone.”

Despite their best efforts, rumors spread quickly through the Avenger. The soldiers see the scars that line the Commander's arms while she trains them and things only grow worse from there. She works hard to earn their trust otherwise, the squad returning from successful mission after successful mission.

No one outright calls for her removal, but that doesn’t mean they are comfortable with her.

Bradford can almost see the relief on the Commander’s face when they finally make contact with the Skirmishers. Betos welcomes her with open arms, not even considering the absence of a daemon something to fret over. To them, there is nothing wrong with her.

They talk long into the night about horrors that he has no hope of understanding, but the relief on the Commander’s face is obvious so he leaves them be and goes to bed alone that night.

In the morning they get word of a retaliation strike in western Africa that they must deal with, cutting any more talk short.

“We’ll be back soon, surely,” the Commander says apologetically as they see Betos off the ship.

“We understand. You have a duty to your people that cannot wait,” Betos says with a faint smile. “By the time you return, I hope to have some information regarding your request.”

They both shake hands with Betos and watch as she returns to her base. Bradford turns to glance at the Commander.

“Request?”

“Personal favor. Don’t know if anything will come of it,” she answers, shrugging. She turns and heads back into the ship to prepare.

Verena presses against his leg and whines, urging him to head back inside as well.

At their next meeting, Betos hands the Commander a datapad wordlessly. The Commander smiles and thanks her, then tucks it into her coat and continues as though nothing happened.

Even when they’ve retired for the night, the Commander does not look at the datapad, but likewise does not let it out of arm’s reach. Whatever it could possibly contain terrifies her. Verena lays half atop her when they go to sleep, as if she could hope to be enough to replace what she’s lost.

He wakes not to an alarm indicating another attack, nor to any of their comms devices begging for their attention, but instead to the Commander awake in the middle of the night, sitting against the headboard and watching something on the datapad repeatedly. It’s a reaction he’s come to know so well over their time together. She repeatedly watches footage from battle when they lose a soldier, to improve her tactics and to mourn.

“Tanya?” he mumbles. “It’s late.”

She doesn’t react other than to restart the video.

Verena whines and pushes herself back into her lap. That, at least, urges her to lay a hand on her head and scratch behind her ear.

He pushes himself up and leans against her shoulder to watch it. On the screen, is the cursed stasis suit that he’d so come to hate lying on a table. A thin man comes in from off screen, half dragging Tatiana in with him and Přemysl tucked under one arm. There is a vacant look in her eyes that speaks to not only being mind controlled, but also having had her will utterly shattered.

He should grab the datapad and throw it against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes off of it.

The thin man dumps Přemysl onto the table in an unceremonious heap of feathers and goes to help Tatiana into the suit. He sees Přemysl push himself up and screech at the alien, but he can’t seem to do much more. One of his wings sticks out to the side awkwardly and he thinks he can see a dark patch on his belly that can only be blood.

The moment the stasis suit is sealed, Přemysl collapses into a pile of dust and dissipates into the air.

Tatiana restarts the video without a word.

#xcom #my writing #In This House There Is Suffering And You're Gonna Like It

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trbl-will-find-me · 7 years

Text

Every Exit, An Entrance, Part 2/?

There are two (and only two) possibilities: either she led XCOM to victory and they are now engaged in a clean up operation of alien forces, or XCOM was overrun, clearing the way for an alien-controlled puppet government to seize control of the planet.

She’d really like to figure out which it is, but asking hardly seems the prudent option.

There are moments where she almost thinks she’s figured it out. If she stands back and takes stock of the situation, she can almost find where reality jumped the shark. A reclaimed alien ship? An entire world in the thralls of the aliens? Come on.

But is it any more absurd than a global defense force secreted under away under the Kansas cornfields? A reverse engineered UFO?

Invariably, she is forced to concede defeat, accept the double existence, and move on with her day. Or, perhaps more accurately, night.

She tries not to trip on the details.

Really, it should not have come as a surprise. The writing had been on the wall since, well. Since Royston had come out of the psi lab, honestly.

She’s almost impressed Martin waited as long as he did.

The comms have been clear for two weeks, a feat almost unimaginable at the beginning of the month. The common room had almost, almost, recovered from the last fete, the dredges of crumbs and bottle caps all but eradicated from the nooks and crannies of the furniture. The liquor cabinet had been almost, almost completely restocked.

Not any more, she thinks, downing another glass of champagne.

The initial fracas had started in the common room, carried into Mission Control, and then into the Situation Room, interrupting her meeting as the cheering spread.

“What happened?” She’d called, sticking her head out. “Someone beat Central at Civ?”

“Martin popped the question!” Hegarty had shouted, gesturing wildly to the security feed from inside the common room.

Suddenly, addressing the matter of the Council had seemed a lot less pressing.

She is relieved, stupidly relieved, as if it had been her relationship on the line these eight months. There had been moments, moments where she’d doubted either one was coming home free from a body bag. She remembers all too well the sight of Royston, body limp and vitals erratic, after an Ethereal had hurled her against a wall, or the way bile had risen in her throat as the Sectoid Commander had turned Martin on his friends and teammates.

But, Hershel was a damn good medic and had stabilized Royston long enough to make it back to HQ. And, when everyone else had been frozen, paralyzed by some pernicious combination of shock and disbelief, Royston had aimed her rifle, hitting the monster squarely between the eyes, and freeing Martin, who had ensured the bullet had done its job.

They’d earned this.

“He’s been sitting on that ring since the beginning of November,” Bradford remarks from his spot next to her. They’re close enough to be part of the festivities, but far enough back to chat without fear of being overheard.

“Wait, really?” She asks, surprise registering through the alcohol. “How do you know?”

“Because I signed for it a couple days after Halloween. I thought he’d pop the question after Avenger or wait until Christmas.”

She blinks, considering this new information. “Don’t you have some pretty strong feelings about fraternization?”

He shrugs. “Theory and practice.”

She fights the urge to ask if that applies to everyone, or just those outside the senior staff.

Bernard pops another bottle of champagne, letting it run over his fingers as he refills plastic flutes, laughing all the while.

“You think they’ll make it?” She asks.

“Yeah, I do.”

Again, there is a Royston. She is the proverbial spitting image of her parents: her father’s hair and her mother’s eyes.

The Commander can’t look at the girl without vague memories of a makeshift engagement party, smuggled champagne flowing freely in the common room. They’re fleeting, though, a dream, and are quickly supplanted by the weight of loss.

She’d give almost anything for a dose of Martin’s gentle humor or the older Royston’s calm reassurances.

She notes with some curiosity that no one calls this Royston by her surname. She’d chalk it up to a fear of summoning ghosts, but Central’s never been one for superstition.

Finally, she asks.

The girl offers her a sly grin. “Central didn’t mention, huh? Maman tracked him down before. Well. A few months before. She made him promise that, when something happened, he’d look after me.” She shrugs. “In seven years, I’ve only ever been Sally to him, or anyone else.”

“Seven years?”

She nods. “I was a few months shy of eleven. I’ll be eighteen at the end of April.”

“So, you’re only seventeen. That explains why you’re not on the active duty roster.”

She chuckles darkly. “Not exactly.”

The Commander can feel her eyebrows rising toward her hairline. “Not exactly?”

“I went on an … unauthorized field op, and neutralized an ADVENT collaborator operating in the area.”

The Commander lets out a low whistle. “And he doesn’t have you on active duty because …?”

“He didn’t take kindly to the unauthorized bit.”

“Sounds like Central.”

“After I got back, and,” she sighs. “And he sobered up, he grounded me. Bridge or quarters and nowhere else. Kelly managed to talk him into giving me range access at least.”

“Sobered up? What, you went out on a special occasion?”

Again, she shakes her head, but it’s accompanied by an eye roll this time. “He doesn’t need a reason to drink; he just does. If he’s not here, or on the bridge, he’s probably drinking himself into oblivion somewhere.” The edge on her voice is unusually harsh, almost as if it were some kind of personal betrayal.

The Commander may only be a few days out of the tank, but she can see this isn’t an issue to be pushed. “That’s … new,” she says, attempting to find something neutral to say.

The information visibly takes Sally by surprise. “It is?”

“To my frame of reference, yeah.”

“He didn’t do this during the invasion?”

“He didn’t really drink.” Because I thought he knew better than to follow his father, she adds, silently.

Sally’s shoulders sag. “I don’t know why I’m even surprised.”

It’s only then that the Commander notices, as much as she bears her parents’ looks and quirks, Sally’s mannerisms are an almost perfect mirror of Bradford’s.

Oh. --

“Who said anything about the skyranger?”

She’s on the bridge again, in the dark. The banners are still in tatters, but the hologlobe’s stabilized, no doubt thanks to whatever magic Shen worked with the recovered and repaired converter. There’s something she can’t place in Central’s voice, almost like a kid who’s finally learned to get a hand in the cookie jar without being caught.

“Shen,” he says, pressing a finger to the commlink. “Status report: are we ready?”

She quirks her head, trying to catch his eye. She swears there’s the faintest grin, pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Short answer? Yes. But, you might all want to hold onto something.”

She’s never been one to question instructions from a Shen, and she has no intention of starting now. She wraps her fingers around the bar in front of her, leaning her weight forward as the ship begins to hum. There’s the sound of metal folding, retracting, and the unmistakable sensation of lift.

Flight. Actual flight. On an alien ship. She shakes her head, feeling the way the grin spreads across her face in spite of the headache she’s fought since waking up on Tygan’s table a scant few days ago.

She dares a glance over at Bradford, and finds a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

“Shen,” she says, pressing a finger to her own comm, breathless with what might be joy. “This is incredible. Well done.”

“He’d be proud, Lily,” Central offers.

“I’m just glad it worked,” Shen says, but it’s hard to miss the comfort she takes in Central’s comment.

The Commander’s been on planes before, more than she can count, really, but this is different. There is no whine, no sound of whir of jets. Instead, it is a kind of steady thrum, something to be felt, rather than heard. The metal of the grab rail vibrates gently and the whole ship feels as if it’s alive under her fingers.

She thinks, briefly, of liminal spaces, the in-between places that have always been breeding grounds for things beyond rational explanation. Truck stops and bus stations, cemeteries and crossroads: they are all areas where this world and the one beyond bleed together. Here, on this ship, the human world has encroached upon the alien; here, XCOM has stolen something from the ashes. It’s no wonder she feels as if she’s surrounded by ghosts.

Keep us flying, she asks whoever might be listening. Keep us safe.

-- She wakes in the morning, and runs her fingers along the cool metal bulkhead of her bunk. It is lifeless, inert under her touch. She isn’t sure why she expected anything else.

In Mission Control, the Hologlobe has been supplanted by satellite views of a crash site in rural China, the wreckage uncommonly charred.

“I see Dr. Shen’s latest upgrades are performing well,” she offers. “Any life signs?”

Central nods. “Hyperwave says it’s a fairly standard supply complement with a few surprises.”

“Ethereal?”

He nods.

“How long ago did we hit’em?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“How fast can we get a team there?”

“A few hours. Skyranger’s ready to launch on your orders after you’ve secured the team.”

“Strike One!” She calls, pressing a finger to her earpiece. “Let’s go! Rise and shine. Time to take the trash out.”

“Déja? Mais, non, maman.”

“Je ne suis pas ta mère, Bernard. Levez-vous. Les extraterrestres rient à vous.”

“Let’em laugh,” Hershel cuts in. “Molchetti still knocked their ship out of this plane of existence.”

“Let’s just hope she doesn’t have to give us a repeat performance. We’ve got a crashed alien ship. You’re being deployed for mop up.”

“It beats dying, but spontaneously disappearing from point A and reappearing at point B is not something I want to make a habit of,” Molchetti groans. “I had a headache for a week after.”

“Sure that wasn’t the hangover?” Royston asks. “I seem to remember you having quite the party.”

“She kept her clothes on. It’s more than Yan can say,” Martin offers.

“Yan had a goal,” Hershel says. “That goal was getting in Pukkila’s pants. He succeeded.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” Central interjects.

“Enough oversharing, Strike One,” she orders, stifling a laugh. “Time to go before you add to the list of people Central can’t look in the eye right now. Grab your gear and report to the hangar.”

A clean up op isn’t without risks. Nothing is, especially with an Ethereal in the mix. She can still feel the now-familiar mix of nerves and nausea as Strike One straps on their armor and boards the Skyranger.

They’ve survived worse, she tells herself. An alien base. An alien ship. They can handle mop up.

She believes it, too. Her men have seen enough, been through enough. After nine months together, they’ve come to understand one another, to be able to compensate for blind spots and weaknesses. They truly are a team, and she has every ounce of confidence in them.

She still worries.

-- Every team has growing pains. New teams take time to adjust to one another and find a comfortable working relationship. Old teams have to account for changes in the status quo. Gain a member? Lose a member? Saddled with a new problem? There’s bound to be some settling.

That is the only way she can explain Central.

She’s been out almost a week now. She has an op under her belt, an op that went well, an op that netted them a badly needed converter in exchange for a few cuts and bruises. She’s begun to curry favor not only with Tygan and Shen, but with the crew at large. As much as things have changed in the world at large, human nature remains a constant: if she makes herself available, and more importantly, approachable, her men are every bit as curious about her as she is about them.

So, she plays poker. She has beers. She reviews briefings in the bar or the mess hall. She learns that Kelly was born in Ireland and raised in Brooklyn by parents who are still alive, that she joined when she’d managed to lift the datapad off of a suspected ADVENT mole and used its contents to find her way to HQ, that the baseball cap was her mother’s before her and she wears it with pride.

She takes tea with Shen out on the flight deck, ROV-R buzzing nearby, teasing out bits of the young woman’s own story alongside the tale of the ship itself, how they’d found it, and brought it back to life. Lily volunteers nothing about her father’s death, and the Commander does not ask.

Tygan is the mystery, the great question of how anyone pried an ADVENT researcher from the comfort of the city centers and drew him to the comparative wilds of the Avenger. She finds a way to chip at that veneer, however, over conversations about needed supplies and possible avenues for research, and finds a deeply principled man struggling to stake his place among a suspicious crew, as well as the sole human onboard capable of making a decent cup of coffee.

And then, there is Central, who she knows, or maybe, who she knew. Central, who risked it all to steal her back and who now looks at her as if she’s a ghost, some figment of his imagination made real. Central, who only Kelly, Royston, and Shen can keep track of with any accuracy, who spends his free time drunk or disappeared.

Who looks at her with something approaching hurt in his eyes as Tygan explains the chip’s purpose.

“They were using you against us.”

It’s as much an accusation as an acknowledgement, as if she’d had some say in it. She fights back the urge to remind him she didn’t have much say in the matter, that they’d held her down and.

No.

No, she won’t go there.

Silently, she runs her tongue against the raised scar running the width of her soft palette, listening as Tygan presses on.

“I assume you’ve got a plan on how to initiate this hack?” She asks.

Tygan nods, and a schematic appears on the screen. “The skulljack.”

She nods. “We’ll get it built. Shen,”she says, pressing a finger to her earpiece. “When you’ve got a minute, report to the lab.”

“I’ll be on the bridge,” Central says, excusing himself. “Tygan. Commander.”

She settles onto a nearby stool, watching as her second in command makes his way out, willing the lump in her throat to die down.

Adjustment pains, she tells herself. It’s just adjustment pains.

#xcom #fic #commander/central #every exit an entrance

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