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marvinswriting · 4 years

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rouge

hurt/comfort(/hurt?) fic four :0 GENERALIZED TW: death (fear of it, mentioned, and/or, actual death); cursing; blood (mention, description, thought) mg borrower (roommates) au

Rouge borrowers are a thing. When I described them to Damian, he pointed out that they're the equivalent of a homeless person.

I told him all borrowers are technically homeless.

You won't catch me paying taxes.

Rouge borrowers are more like travelers. Never stay in one place too long, never settle down. They're left to their own devices at a younger age too. They have a different culture and borrowing technique than a stationary borrower. They're more reckless, more violent.

They travel alone most of the time. Each man for himself.

My father would tell stories of rouge borrowers that kill off humans if they get caught.

They travel to houses but don't stay for long.

There's a good chance a borrower has shared their house with a rouge without even knowing.

Houses are big.

But- I never thought I'd face one.

"What are you doing here." He called out. He was holding a meticulously sharpened rock as a knife.

I was on the kitchen counter just trying to grab food. Kevin was across the kitchen getting water, frozen in place as he watched the rouge approach me. Gretchen had slipped away before he saw her. I fucking hope she had enough common sense to get Damian.

I put my hands up in defense.

"I live here."

He raises his weapon. "You two are stationary borrowers?"

"Yes." I say.

"Take me to your hideout. I want your supplies."

"What?! No!" I step back, but the rouge just steps closer again.

"Hey, dude-" Kevin steps over. "What's your name. Maybe we can work this out- without the kife?"

"Shane." The borrower says, but he doesn't lower his weapon.

"Hey, Shane. I'm Janis, this is my roommate Kevin. I agree I think we can talk civilly without-" I gasp, taking a step backward as Shane gabs his knife at me.

Kevin's arm wraps around my shoulders pulling me close to him.

"Hey! No stabbing the girl!" He says, pushing me a little behind him.

Normally I would object to needing to be protected, but Shane looks strong as fuck for a rouge borrower and has shown he has no hesitation to fucking stab us.

"There's another one of you." Shane deadpans. "Where did she go."

"I don't know," Kevin says calmly.

"Where did she go?!" Kevin steps back so he's next to me. Shane is swinging around his sharp rock-knife-weapon-murder-dagger, like a mad man.

"We don't know!" I say. "Honest truth!"

She could be hiding in her room like a baby, or getting Damian. Or maybe she fell off the counter and fucking died. Beats me I guess.

Shane steps forward again. He gets to closer for comfort. "Are you sure."

"Yes!" My hands are still up by my ears. My tool bag as fallen by my feet, our week's supply of granola tucked beneath it all. I hope he doesn't fucking take it-

"I don't believe you. Take me to your house."

"You're in it buddy." I say. Kevin kicks the back of my leg. Yeah, I should cut down on the sarcastic quips since this dude could kill me at any moment.

"Where you store your supplies. In the walls dumbass. I take it you're not wandering around after befriending the humans."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong." I grin.

Shane seems momentarily frightened by the idea that we have a giant ally but decides I must be bluffing.

He shoves me. "Your supplies. Now!"

Woah woah woah this is getting violent fast what the fuck?

I stumble backward, trying to grasp something to stop myself from falling. I yank Kevin's shoulder but just end up bringing him down with me.

"What the fuck, Janis?" He whines as we both land on our butts.

"Sorry!" I groan, standing up. "What's your damage dude?" I ask Shane.

"My damage is I need fucking food."

"Then get your own! Not in this house!"

"Not when you have easy access to food in your storage."

"Our storage is empty!" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "Why do you think we're borrowing!"

Both Shane and I are very close to each other. I may not have a knife but momma didn't raise no bitch. I can throw a punch when needed.

"Then shows me where you normally get food."

"Fucking starve." I spit.

"Janis-" Kevin tried to pull me backward but I'm livid.

Does this boy think he can come into our area and take out resources? Hell no.

Anger flashes in Shane's eyes as his arm thrusts forward.

I don't even feel the pain at first. It's only when he withdraws his arm- his stone-sword-weapon-bitch-thing covered in blood when my mind makes the connection.

Holy fucking shit.

That's my blood.

Kevin gasps as Shane steps back.

The pain hits like a wave of nausea as I double over, my hands shooting to my side.

Oh, fuck?

Fuck.

"Where's your food?" Shane's voice is calm like he thinks the answer will change now that he's made his point.

I grit my teeth, standing up. My shirt is turning red but I close my jacket to hide it.

Out of sight, out of mind. I've got ass to kick.

"We. Don't. Have. Shit. For. You."

The kitchen light flicks on and I smile, watching the color drain from Shane's face.

"Human." He whispers.

"Mhmm."

Damian stood in the doorway, Gretchen on his shoulder. On the outside, he looked pissed, but I could see by the way his shoulders tensed that he was worried as fuck.

I step forward, trying to ignore the pain in my side and the way the world spins.

"What's going on here?" Damian asks. The bubbliness in his voice is gone. Its enough to make me a little nervous. Shane's eyes widened. "Nothing I just-"

"He attacked us." I say. I feel like a child tattle tailing on their sibling.

"I'd leave if I were you." Damian says, walking over to the counter. He places Gretchen down without removing his eyes from the rouge borrower.

Shane doesn't need to be told twice.

Fucking pussy.

He turns to run and I don't care where he goes because the world is spinning slightly.

Extremely slightly.

Its actually not slightly at all.

But who cares. It's only a bit of blood loss. The rouge borrower is gone.

I turn back to Kevin, big grin on my face. He eyes where my hand is pressed to my jacket but doesn't say anything.

"You guys okay?" Damian asks.

"Yup!" I grin. Kevin just looks away.

"Kevin?" Damian tilts his head. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"No," Kevin says dryly. "I'm okay. It's J-"

"Our food is safe!" I cut of Kevin with a grin, scooping up my tool bag, granola still stashed away.

Damian and Gretchen smile warmly both of them visibly relaxing. I almost feel guilty. But hey, I'll be fine. It's not that deep.

"I was freaking out when Gretchen came into my room," Damian explains. "Normally only Janis stops by. I'm glad you guys are safe."

"Yeah! You're okay!" Gretchen cheers running over to Kevin and me. She pulls me into a tight hug and I grit my teeth. Ow. Fucking-

"Gretch. Stop."

Gretchen pulls back, eyes wide. "Janis-"

Her hand has blood on it.

My blood.

There's a lot of it.

Damian gasps.

Kevin is mumbling something.

Gretchen's got tears in her eyes?

Bitch I'm the one who got stabbed. Why are you crying?

The world is spinning a lot now.

"Oh- heh." I laugh but there's no humor. "That's a lot of blood."

"Janis!" Gretchen gasps. "What happened?!"

"I got fucking stabbed its not hard to tell."

Hmm, I'm starting to think sarcasm might be my way to cover up fear.

Fun.

Kevin is oddly quiet. He always has some sort of remark for my attitude.

Damian is frozen too.

Probably because I'm dying.

I'm dying.

Shit.

"Well." I laugh softly, my hand pressed to my side. "This was fun."

"Don't talk like that." Kevin mumbles. The stern tone is gone though. "You're gonna be okay. Just- sit down. I'm going to go grab medical shit."

"Don't lie to her, Kev. She dying. Shes-" Gretchen is full crying at this point.

"No, she's not!" Kevin snaps. "No- no shes not. I- I'll be right back."

I am dying, though.

I don't say it out loud. I don't want it to be true either.

I sit on the ground. My legs feel weak. My eyes feel tired. My side is burning yet ice cold at the same time.

Blood is sticky.

That’s a fact I would live without knowing.

"Jan, no." There's high panic in Damian's voice. "You need to stay awake."

Kinda forgot Damian was there. I don't want him to see me die. That's too sad.

Gretchen kneels in front of me. Her hand pushed down on my side above my hands. I cry out in pain but I know shes trying to stop the blood. "C'mon Janis. Kevin will be back. You need to stay awake."

Despite everything Gretchen is telling me I let myself fall backward, staring up at the ceiling.

I was losing blood fucking fast I guess. I went from 10/10 hiding it to laying on the ground staring at the ceiling in seconds.

Of all the ways a borrower can die, I get stabbed. I had family members drown in sinks, eaten by pets, starved from unpredictable human schedules- and I’m killed off my another borrower.

Fucking great.

"Janis." There's panic in Damian's voice. "Please. Sit up. Stay awake."

It's too hard.

I’m tired.

I can’t.

"Janis!" Gretchen is full sobbing.

I'm sorry, Gretch. Sorry for being a bitch ass roomate. My bad.

Everything sounds muffled. I think I can hear Kevin returning. There are more hands.

Everything hurts.

I don't have enough energy to push them off.

"Jan, Love. You need to stay awake."

Damian.

Thanks for telling me all about your world. They were fun stories to hear.

Love you.

"C'mon Janis. You're stronger than this. You really gonna let one rouge borrower take you down?"

It appears I am, Kevin.

Sorry guys.

If I were to quote bear, oops. Lol. Tags! @realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @sourishlemons @smallsoysauce

#hurt/comfort(/hurt?)#borrower janis #borrower gretchen #borrower kevin #BORROWER SHANE?#w h a t #giant damian

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rebellect-writes · 4 years

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[SIZE=1][b]Name:[/b] Jess. [b]Age:[/b] 20. [b]How did you find us?:[/b] I hate this question. [b]How did this happen?:[/b] Chase and Fallon refused to kill him.

[b]Name:[/b] Nathan Eliot Travis. [b]Nicknames & Aliases:[/b][LIST] [*] Nickname: Nat. (Earns some responses at times.) [*] Nickname: Nate. (Earns less responses than Nat.) [*] Nickname: Travis. (Responds to this!) [*] Alias: Nathan Reese. [/LIST][b]Age:[/b] 42. [b]Date of Birth:[/b] July 31st 1969. [b]Gender:[/b] Male, defiantly a male. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Straight. He’s not exactly looking right though. [b]Occupation:[/b] Works at Resurrect-R-Us.

[b]Nightly Raising Limit:[/b] 2 on his own, 3 with help from another animator. [b]Standing Rising Kit:[/b][LIST] [*] A sacrifice. Which is usually a chicken, sometimes a goat, or even his own blood. [*] A ceremonial knife. His knife is a simple hunting knife. [*] A jar of ointment. Which is basically blended Rosemary, Cloves, Sage, Thyme and graveyard mould. [*] Salt. [/LIST]

[b]Powers:[/b] [LIST]Nathan is an animator. Which means he was born with the power to raise the dead from their graves prior to the deceased soul leaving its body and moving on into the next life. It’s not as easy as it sounds either, there’s no waving a magic wand and saying a few words and hey presto, a zombie appears. An animator’s job is more ritualistic than that. – Nathan: Which is probably why it pays as much as it does. – Unless they mess up that is, but nine times out of ten, nothing bad happens.

While he was born with the power in him, he still needs some tools for the trade. Those include, and I kid you not, chickens or goats and at times he’s even needed a pig, as the summoning involves a sacrifice. The older the zombie, the bigger the sacrifice, and since he doesn’t like ruining his jeep with farm yard animals, Nathan tries to keep it to chickens and the odd goat. Nathan also needs the zombie’s name in the ritual, the full name is best but if he’s pushed then the given birth name will do. During the ritual, Nathan circles the grave with the blood of the sacrifice, ‘drawing’ a circle of power. Now, normally he’s the only person in that circle when he raises someone, but at times relatives of the deceased want to do things or ask things so Nathan makes them stand behind the grave marker before feeding the zombie blood and then giving the other person a chance to ask what they want. As a newly raised zombie has no memory and needs blood fed to them to regain their knowledge of their former life, Nathan gets through the basics first and hopes to God that anyone else inside the circle with him would be ballsy enough to disrupt the ritual.

So, he circles the grave with blood and power by picturing a glowing circle in his mind, it’s a double edged sword. Dead things can’t get out and dead things can’t get into it without him breaking the circle. With that done he dabs the blood of the sacrifice on his forehead, cheeks and heart, then repeats the motion with the ointment before smearing the headstone with both blood and ointment. The chant he then has to say is pretty basic [i]“Hear us, (corpse name). We call you from your grave. By blood, magic and steel, we call you. Arise, (corpse name), come to us, come to us. (corpse name X2) come to us. Waken, (corpse name), arise and come to us.”[/i] With that done, the dead literally rise as the earth covering the zombie rolls away allowing it to rise to Nathan’s command. Since the zombie’s just a zombie, Nathan must then prick his finger and let the zombie taste blood to bring back its memories and give him total control. Insta-zombie! – Nathan: Hey! They have feelings now you know. – Questions can be asked and then he can send the zombie back to its resting place with salt and the chant to release them. Then its just a matter of going back to the car and cleaning up.

He also has the minor ability to sense the dead, and occasionally see human souls and ghosts that haven’t moved on. They’re nothing more than shades really, and so he doesn’t give them much attention. Everyone knows if you give ghosts attention, they’ll come back for more and more of it. [/LIST]

[b]Face Claim:[/b] Simon Baker. [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://i54.tinypic.com/33o7790.jpg[/IMG][LIST]Nathan? A remarkably stunning male that needs to be in a fashion magazine? Never! He is however 5 feet and 10 inches tall and of average build, though – Nathan: I work out....Sometimes. – he looks a bit bigger than his 160lbs in weight. He can hold his own in a fight though for a time, and I suppose that’s what counts in the end right? Well, he’s also got blonde hair that can be mistaken for mousy brown when it’s wet or under certain lighting, and stunning green eyes and that’s about it.

Oh! You want more, ok. His hands are rough with small scars from his work; those scars turn a little bigger and more pronounced against his skin as you move up to the wrists. Suicidal, psh, never, but it’s often mistaken for such. Tattoos, piercings and Nathan don’t belong in the same sentence. Nathan has nothing in the way of ink work or metal work and has never shown interest in getting things like that done and likely won’t anytime in the future. While he may not have any work done himself, he does take an interest in stuff like that at times. – Nathan: its art, of course it’s interesting. –

Nathan tends to wear suits more than casual clothes like jeans and t-shirts but he won’t rule them out. A nice suit can promote maturity and professionalism, and that seems to calm down distraught clients. Of course, there’s that and the fact that suits are cool. He won’t rule out t-shirts and jeans though, he tends to wear them more when he’s spending time at home or on his day off. [/LIST]

[b]Special Skills:[/b] [LIST] [*] Has a degree in preternatural biology. [*] Has helped in multiple RPIT cases stateside and brought in four killers. [*] A good listener when people need a shoulder to cry on. [*] Can summon a zombie up to 130 years old. [*] Giving blood. Yes, this means he’ll feed vampires in a pinch as well. [*] He’s good with a knife but he won’t ever use it against anyone. [*] Screw your weapons; he has logic on his side. [*] Knows a bit of Spanish, just enough to get by really. [/LIST] [b]Personality:[/b] [LIST]Nathan isn’t a generally moody person, he likes to see the positive side of things rather than the negative and often remains open minded about things around him. Some would say that he’s blunt and cocky at times, but that’s more because when he sees things, he doesn’t always think about what he’s saying until he’s actually said it and getting weird looks from people. When he’s thinking about the situation before him, Nathan can be the polite charmer that can pick up on other people’s emotions and body language quiet well, and will often manipulate people into emotional situations that suit them all. He doesn’t do it to be malicious, he does it to give people a piece of mind because really, he doesn’t like people to be all about the doom and gloom in their lives. – Nathan: I refuse to be that one emo guy in the corner; I won’t let others suffer either! –

So he’s the token smiler and the charmer, and a bit of an odd ball for apparently caring. – Nathan: You forgot impudent, annoying and clever, my dear. Opportunistic at times as well.– You’ve got to earn respect to get it, Nathan’s a fond believer of that and while people may cower and cringe around angry supernatural’s he won’t do it without due course to do so, say like, he’s being paid to do it and only then would he cower like a struck dog. Since his boss signs the pay check, he has to be nice to them, and will often swing from being a fake to a cheeky flirt. –Nathan: The last time I did that, I ended up with knee to the groin. Please don’t paint me out to be something I’m not most of the time. – Nathan will often feel bad for victims of supernatural violence, be it a lycanthrope mauling or a vampire killing, or anything else and if he’s called into help on a RPIT case, he’ll do his best to help and once it’s solved, sink into oblivion with a nice bottle of alcohol.

Yeah, he doesn’t instantly trust anyone either. He may appear like it but he’s always on his guard until he decides that he doesn’t need to hide behind the fake smile, and cryptic puzzle loving mind. Nathan can be impulsive at times, often doing things without telling anyone until he needs help or after the fact because he’s a bit of a masochist that way. He doesn’t often accept help, either in day to day life or working life, but when he does, he obviously feels a need to have it. Nathan tends to keep a lot of emotions bottled up at time, it’s nothing intentional on his part, he just does it unconsciously for reasons spanning back years. Doing this has gifted him with the inability to sleep properly on a night, instead of getting the recommended eight hours; Nathan rarely gets more than four at a push.

He does have a bit of a bad side though and you can tell the difference if you know him well enough. He withdraws into himself and often keeps his thoughts to himself, even when asked to share he won’t do it. He’s the type of person that likes pushing buttons and playing mind games with people so this is a startling difference in his person. He doesn’t get violent and smack people about like some thug on an ego trip, but some of his snappy growled comments will often leave marks that he will try and fix later on when he’s calmed down if he’s presented with the opportune moment to do so. He doesn’t like being angry, isn’t naturally angry, so there’s no real need to leave things fester just to be cruel.

Nathan’s an excommunicated catholic – Nathan: If God loves all, then the Pope is an idiot for excommunicating all animators and necromancers because they can summon the dead. – So he doesn’t have faith like most people that he knows does, thus a Holy item won’t protect him. He’s an Atheist and proud of it. He just doesn’t believe in a higher power because it’s illogical and he won’t believe until there’s proof of said power before his very eyes. However, saying that, you could also label him as Agnostic because if vampires and other supernatural creatures exist, then why shouldn’t a “God”? Now, his views on the supernatural community are a little more logical. Well, since he’s a part of it he can’t complain much about it. He won’t put himself in the middle of angry vampires or lycanthropes because he knows that they have a system of their own. He will however, step in and try and diffuse the situation if there are other humans involved between other beings because it’s only natural for him to help the underdog. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b][LIST] [*] Puzzles and challenges. [*] Relaxing after a long day with a puzzle book. [*] A nice glass of red wine, or a cup of tea. [*] Risings that go to plan. [*] Walks on the beach. [*] Sleep when he can get it. [*] Helping people out to the best of his ability. [*] Going for a walk if he’s restless. [*] Appearing professional in everything he does. [*] A home cooked meal over fast food. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b][LIST] [*] Sunrises. It means he’s worked all night long. [*] Ankle biting dogs. Have you ever been bitten by one of them? He has! [*] Vampires that thing they’re all that. [*] People that take no badly. [*] Noisy criers. Zombie rising is hard work without the distraction as it is. [*] People that think being ‘supernatural’ is a crime against God. [*] Killing goats for work. He likes to make do with chickens. [*] When his computer doesn’t work, because he has no idea how to fix it. [*] Types of people that spoil movies or books before he reads or watches. [*] A promising challenge turning into a dud. [/LIST][b]Strengths:[/b][LIST] [*] Will be polite if he’s with civil people. [*] Can follow orders, in his own way. [*] Is professional when it comes to his work. [*] Doesn’t drink through the week, that’s saved for the weekends. [*] He’s got a good mind; he just over uses it to the point of abuse. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b][LIST] [*] He’s anyone’s for a nice cup of tea. [*] Victims of supernatural crime, particularly children. [*] Isn’t that technological advanced. [*] Attitude and trust problems. [*] Bull-headed reckless streak. [*] Can be pretty oblivious to things at time. [/LIST][b]Fears:[/b][LIST] [*] Claustrophobia: He’s tried to get help for this, but there’s nothing to be done. It’s an irrational phobia that makes him terrified of confined spaces. [*] Belonephobia: He’s afraid of needles and will faint if they’re used on him. He’s fine if he doesn’t look but this phobia’s what’s pushed him to avoid many medical experiences than he cares to mention. [*] Being the cause of an out of control zombie of any kind. [*] Being tricked into raising a murder victim from the grave. [/LIST][b]Family:[/b][LIST] [*] Janet Reese: mother : alive. [*] Elliot Travis: father : unknown. [*] Ines Reese: grandmother : alive. [*] Jonas Reese: grandfather : dead. [/LIST][b]History:[/b] [LIST]Nathan Elliot Travis was born in downtown San Diego, California way back in July 1969. He was the surprise – Nathan: More like unwanted but mother never was to hurt people’s feelings. - Birth of female police officer, Janet Reese who before she had found out about the pregnancy, had recently changed her name back to her maiden name after a long year of family and relationship drama that she wanted to put behind her. Nathan was simply the product of a very brief fling with her former husband Elliot Travis and she didn’t know about their child until it was too late and she was screaming blue murder and cursing all males within a thirty mile radius of her. Now, as an unwanted child, you’d think that his childhood would’ve been one full of heartache and misery but it really wasn’t. His mother loved him with every breath in her body and even though she’d given up her badge without thinking about it when he’d been born, she never once let people put her down or her son for that matter. So what if his Grandparents where old fashioned and thought that he should’ve been put into the foster system because his mother couldn’t cope! She would be twice as mean back and just as stubborn as them and prove that she could. Since she was a single mom though, things were hard on her. If Nathan got sick, she would go without sleep and food just to make sure that he was better. If he outgrew any clothes, she would go without stuff for him all the more. The stubborn streak was what cost Janet the semi support of her parents by the time Nathan was three years old, and brought into the young man’s life something that Janet had never wanted. His father.

Elliot Travis was a manipulator, he wooed his mother for months after finding out that he had a son by her and almost a year later, he was back in her bed and in her body as well as her mind. Nathan didn’t like this man from day one and while most children wanted to be like their father and impress them, Nathan did not because at the end of the day there was only enough room in the house for two people. His father had to go. – Nathan: You make it sound so malicious than it actually was at the time. – Nathan started to plot little things at first, typically childish stuff like dumping his father’s wallet into the bin or tossing his car keys out of the window and into the garden hoping and praying that someone would find them or that they’d get buried under garden refuse. He even went as far as switching the setting on the washing machine to shrink Elliot’s clothes. Poor Nathan, he got the shock of his life when his father found him red handed pouring paint on all of Elliot’s clothes just after his eighth birthday, his plan had been to blame the decorators that Elliot had hired to redo the ‘marital room’ – Nathan: Oh lovely, I think I’ve just been sick in my mouth. - If it ever came about. Elliot beat Nathan into submission both physically and also mentally. He swore that if Nathan played anymore tricks, that Nathan would be made to watch Elliot hurt his mother and that alone put Nathan back in his place for many years to come. Of course the occasional beating that was brushed off as accidents helped Elliot control Nathan, as well as the threats towards Janet’s safety and wellbeing. It all stopped by the time he was fourteen thankfully, but it would be one of those memories that Nathan would keep for the rest of his life.

He’d been suffering at school, insomnia during the night and headaches and nausea, the inability to hold down food for more than five minutes before running to the bathroom, had affected his grades and performance on a whole as well as his life. His mother was worried, almost frantic that something was seriously wrong with her son, but Elliot didn’t care. He tried to calm Janet down but she had none of that and called in the grandparents. Nathan had an alright relationship with them, they neither loved him or hated him and defiantly didn’t try to beat him like Elliot did. His grandmother took an interest immediately when she found out that he hadn’t been sleeping or eating. Granny Ines put her foot down so hard when Nathan complained that he wasn’t hungry or lied when he said that he was going to try and sleep. Sure it made her angry but what really infuriated the dear old soul was the time when she’d come to give Nathan some clothes to put in his wardrobe – Nathan: I remember that night. Mom was on a date and they were babysitting. - And saw the bruises on his ribs and back. Nathan broke and told her every single detail, and at fourteen years of age, it was hard to ignore [i]the look[/i].

By the time Elliot and Janet returned, Nathans Grandfather Jonas was waiting. Jonas at the time knew everything – Nathan: Well, not everything. I didn’t tell them about me trying to get rid of Elliot in the first place – and just like Ines, he was furious and simply set the big old German shepherd dogs he kept around the back of the house on Eliot to scare the live out of him. Hex and Hooligan did their job, but what was worse, Ines told Janet the whole sordid tale and Nathan’s mother saw red. In the following days, Nathan enjoyed peace. Elliot was out of his life – Nathan: Go, go gadget restraining order! - And in an amusing turn of events, Nathan had his grandparents around in his life more often and his mother had her parents back. All was well, until a year or so later when Jonas suffered a heart attack which proved too much for the seventy two year old and slowly killed him. Nathan shouldn’t have been listening in on the brief conversation between his grandparents, but the talk of being brought back and his grandmother agreeing had caught and held his attention in its poisonous grasp and still weighed heavily on his thoughts throughout the following day into the next until Ines informed him and his mother that Jonas had passed away. The look that she gave Nathan though, removed any idea that he’d not been caught spying and listening in.

After Jonas’ funeral, his grandmother drew him aside. She explained...things to him. She was a long retired vaudun priestess, having left her religious beliefs behind when she’d found her true love and could bring the dead back for brief periods of time. Monsters from fairytales and movies were real and lurking in the shadows preying on people and the world was in for a very big wakeup call someday. Instead of brushing her off as a distraught widow, Nathan believed her, he could sense something about Ines now that he hadn’t been able to sense before, and he begged her to train him as her apprentice and seeing something in the young one, his grandmother agreed. Thus, at the age of sixteen, Nathan Travis’ mind was opened to a world bigger than the one that he thought he knew. Oh, Ines poked and prodded that spark in Nathan and helped him grow in his power and never gave him a break. She wasn’t the best mentor – Nathan: Her words, not mine. She said them repeatedly. – But she wasn’t exactly the same as Nathan was. He’d been born with this power, but she couldn’t work out how he’d got it since Janet hadn’t been born with it. However, they rarely sat down and brooded about things in the past because there was always something new that she could teach him and by the time he was twenty one, he’d brought back his first zombie on his own and Ines declared that there was nothing else to teach him.

What could a young animator do in a world that didn’t accept the supernatural? Vampires and were-creatures? He knew that they were there thanks to his grandmothers training and her lessons. He could now make out the souls of recently dead and lingering ghosts if he focused hard enough. He was at a loss, and even though he knew things that not many did, he hid away. Got on with life and moved to New York, then when he got bored with New York, he tried his luck in New Orleans a few years after in 1995, bouncing back to San Diego three times a year to see his mother and Ines when he could. It was great. For awhile he forgot that he could bring back the dead, for awhile he was normal. Then the supernatural world came out of hiding in 1997 and everything changed. Vampires where hunted, lycanthropes where run out of jobs and lynched in the streets, supposed “psychics” and other people that worked with magic where arrested. It was bad times for everyone and people where scared but in 2000 supernatural became legal. It still didn’t stop people from being scared and angry. – Nathan: They had a right to be as well. I’d have been scared if I hadn’t known before hand. -

That was eleven years ago, in that time Nathan’s moved from New Orleans to San Francisco, from there to Atlantic City, and to Toronto plying his trade as a freelance consultant for RPIT teams and anyone needing their formerly alive loved ones returned for a little while, never really running with the ‘’big dogs’’ in reanimation until 2006. By that time he was in trouble, up to his eyeballs in debt and needed the money that a proper position in an animation firm could get him as well as signing himself up as a stable retainer for the Toronto RPIT teams. It took him nearly five years to dig himself out of debt and save up for another move. Outside of San Diego growing up as a kid, five years was the longest time that he’d ever stayed in one place and it was starting to get to him.

Nathan would’ve ended up in another city if he hadn’t heard from an English vampire about this quaint little city England. Jackford. He was told that it was one of England’s supernatural hotspots, and surprised that it wasn’t London, or Cardiff or any of the more commonly known places. Since it was overseas, Nathan had to wait another year to sort through paperwork and stuff to move overseas, while researching Jackford and in February of 2011, early he actually made it to England! Well, London really but close enough to his final destination. –Nat: Now I’ve just got to secure a job and a home and not be stuck in a hotel for the rest of my time here. – It’s now early March, he’s finally made it to Jackford and he has no idea what’s going to happen next. [/LIST][/SIZE]

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 6 years

Text

Lena & Maura: Safe House, Pt. 2

A month after Lena's disappearance, Jane enters the morgue at a dead run. "Maura! Maura, turn on the news, quick!"

Maura scrambles for her laptop, and when she tunes into CatCo News, shaky on-scene footage of a crime scene greets her.

"Oh my god." No, no, no....

"Wait," Jame urges. Soon the flashing emergency lights give way to a strip of crime scene tape, and then suddenly she spots a gurney emerging from an old, grungy building, flanked by medics.

Jane reaches for her hand, and Maura clutches tightly. She can hardly breathe, can hardly hear the newscaster over her heart thudding in her ears.

"Authorities are reporting that National City's resident tech magnate Lena Luthor has been located in Washington State," the disembodied voice informs them. "Details are still rolling in, but representatives from Mercy West Hospital in Seattle have confirmed that a woman matching Lena Luthor's description has been admitted and is currently in stable condition."

As the gurney is lifted into the waiting ambulance onscreen, Maura sees a flash of pale skin and dark hair, she knows, she knows it's Lena. A sob of relief pops out of her, and then Jane's arms around her.

"Miss Luthor was reported missing over a month ago, last seen entering her vehicle following her departure from well-known National City hot spot Paca's. Since her disappearance--"

Jane turns the computer off with one hand, without releasing Maura. They already know the lack of details they're reporting-- since her disappearance, there was no ransom, no sightings, no remains. Just-- nothing. L-Corp reportedly continued to run smoothly, but National City had collectively held its breath, waiting for news with equal amounts of hope and dread.

"She's alive--" Maura chokes on the lump in her throat.

Jane pulls her closer. "Yeah, they found her. She's okay..." She nods against the top of Maura's head. "She's going to be okay."

(more under the cut)

It’s almost a week before Maura's phone rings with Lena's ID on the screen. She scrambles for the phone, despite being halfway through a briefing with Jane and Korsak.

"Lena?! Lena, hi. Are you okay?" Silence travels over the line, making Maura wince. "Sorry, that was a stupid question."

Jane nudges her partner out the door, and closes the door behind them. In the quiet that follows, Maura can hear Lena's faint sigh.

"No, it's okay," she says. "I just wanted to call and, um... just to let you know I'm home, and..."

She trails off, and Maura almost starts crying right there. Lena has never, never been at a loss for words.

"Oh, Lena, I'm just so relieved." Maura's breath turns audibly sharp, and she has to swallow the sob back down. Her hands shook, and she pressed the hand not holding her phone tight against her chest. "We've been so worried."

"Thanks, I know. A lot of people were... More than I expected, actually." The scoff that follows sounds hard in Maura's ear, and a rustle of movement drifts through the speaker as Lena adjusts. "I almost can't stand it."

"Stand what?"

Maybe it's the fact Maura is on the other side of the country; maybe it's because it's a phone call and not a face to face conversation; or maybe it's that Lena trusts Maura just enough.

"The looks," Lena responds. Her voice is thick with emotion, and honesty. She sniffles wetly. "The murmurs that stop when I enter the room. I can't even leave my apartment without having to face the gauntlet of reporters outside my building. It's too much-- I'd rather have just..."

She doesn't finish, and Maura doesn't want to imagine just what Lena would have rathered. "Come to Boston."

A ragged inhalation answers first, but the expected refusal isn't what follows.

"Are... are you sure?"

Lena's voice sounds so, so small.

"God, yes!" Maura expels, tears and strained laughter in a single breath. "Get on that goddamn jet you have and get over here."

After a long beat of silence, Lena clears her throat. "Okay."

Jane supports Maura's offer, but with a single warning.

"Just, be careful Maur."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jane lifts her hands innocently. "Just that you're a healer--"

"I work with dead people."

"But you want to save people," Jane reminds her, rubbing her hands along Maura's arms. "And I love that about you, but babe-- think about it. In National City she has her partner, her friends, her business... but she's coming here instead."

Maura bristles. "I already told you--"

"I know what you said." Jane remains soft, and gentle. "And I’m just saying, she's running from something. And that something might be the kind of help you wanna give her."

Sighing, Maura rests her head on Jane's shoulder. "You're saying we should be what she wants-- not what she needs."

Jane nods. Her arms wrap around Maura, holding her close. "Yeah. I'm not saying we can't be both, but we just gotta be careful about it. Okay?"

"Okay."

It's easier said than done, when Lena shows up on her doorstep the next morning. In leggings and a fluffy oversized sweater, she looks nothing like the high-powered executive Maura has slowly become familiar with. Still, she hides her eyes behind large sunglasses to further discourage from any curious gazes that might find her here in Boston.

"Lena!" Maura moves in for a hug, but catches herself. "Can I--?"

Lena's faint nod gives consent, but not enthusiastically, so Maura keeps the embrace brief. She tries not to notice the way Lena's hands barely touch against her back to return the squeeze. Lena always gave the best hugs.

"Please come in," Maura urges, opening the door wider to admit both Lena and her single mid-size suitcase. Lena steps inside, slowly reaching up to remove her shades. Maura's breath catches in her chest. "Oh, Lena..."

The sunglasses might have obscured her identity, but they'd also served to hide the wide, blackening bruise surrounding her left eye, its edges only just now starting to yellow. And what Maura had at first glance taken for a smudge of lipstick on her lower lip she now recognizes a deep cut scabbed over.

"I'm okay," Lena tells her softly.

Maura nods, wrapping her arms around herself to keep from reaching out and tilting Lena's chin to get a better look, and confirm for herself that the injuries were healing well. "You've gotten checked out, though? I know one of the directors at Mercy West, and--"

"They didn't treat me there," Lena blurts. "I was admitted, but they moved me to another facility for security. I promise, I got the best medical care. I'm fine."

Lena offers no other details, and Maura distracts herself from asking by showing Lena to the guest room. Once she's shown Lena around, pointed out the clean towels and fresh soap, Maura leaves her to settle in.

"Thank you, Maura," Lena says softly, fingers gently brushing the back of Maura's hand. "For... everything."

Maura, who has so far managed to keep herself under control, feels her expression lose the fight and start to crumble. She wraps Lena in a hug, holding her tight as tears pinched from the corners of her eyes.��

"I'm so glad you're okay."

This time, Lena tucks her chin and burrows into Maura's shoulder. She doesn't say a word, but the tremble in the hands that press against Maura's back speaks volumes.

Jane and Maura both have to ask Angela to keep her distance, dancing the line between Italian pride and Lena's comfort.

"It's not about you, Ma," Jane tries to explain at the cafe the next morning.

"No, I get it..." Angela waves them off. "She's a classy lady, and I'm not--"

"No, Angela, please," Maura steps in. "You have to understand... Lena is very sensitive, and the only way she'll feel truly comfortable at the house is if she feels that she hasn't disrupted anyone's lives. I've managed to convince her that her visit isn't an imposition, but that won't hold if she knows how often you come over."

"And that's all we want, Ma-- for Lena to feel comfortable. It's why she's here."

Angela sighs. "I get that," she assures them, "I do." Jane and Maura share a glance, and a mutual sigh of relief as Angela seems to let it go.

"But--"

"Ma!!"

"I could bring over some of my famous chicken soup, or my lasagna!! That's sure to help her feel better!"

"Oh my god..."

"No." The edge in Maura's voice makes Angela pause where Jane's enduring exasperation does not. "You are a good mother, Angela, and a natural nurturer. I understand that you want to help, but please believe me when I say that a good mother is the last thing Lena needs right now."

"Everyone should have a good mother--"

"But Lena doesn't! And that ship has unfortunately sailed, which means that any reminder of a good thing Lena didn't get to have is only going to make her feel worse, so please-- please do not come to the house."

Maura can't help the tears that come to her eyes, or the way her voice shakes. And finally, it's enough to appease Angela.

"Okay, sweetheart. I'll give you guys some space."

Lena stays quiet, and continues to favor long, fluffy sweaters despite the comfortable temperature inside the house. She seems to sleep most of the day, and emerges from the guest room in the late afternoon to cook dinner. Maura tells her that isn't necessary, but lets it go when Lena confesses she finds it soothing-- like chemistry, but with a lower brain power threshold.

So it goes, for days, never asking questions, not giving Lena any reason to withdraw more than she has. Until one night, Maura is late coming home, and passes the guestroom just as a voice sounds within.

"Please, please don't--!"

"Lena?!" Maura pushes into the room with her heart in her throat and a hand reaching for the pepper spray she keeps in her purse.

The room inside is dark, and devoid of intruders. As Maura's eyes quickly adjust to the shadows, she finds that the only lump on the bed is Lena, and she's thrashing against sheets that have gotten twisted around her.

"No, no, no, no..."

Maura knows waking a victim of night terrors is a bad idea. But all reason is eclipsed by the need to help, pressing more urgently with every frightened moan.

"Lena..." Maura discards her purse by the door, and sits on the edge of the bed opposite Lena. She reaches out, and tentatively touches Lena's wrist-- she doesn't grab, or press... just enough contact to let her know she was there. "Lena, it's oka--"

The moment her fingers touch skin, Lena flings her arm away, narrowly missing Maura as she dodges. She bolts upright with a cry, eyes wide and unfocused as she recoils from Maura in the dark.

"No, don't-- get away--"

Maura surges towards the nearest lamp, and Lena dives for the edge of the bed. It comes sooner than she expects, and hits the floor on her back with one leg still trapped in the bed sheets.

"Lena!!" Maura flicks on the overhead light as she comes around the end of the bed. Lena sobs, clawing at the sheet roped around her leg. Rather than adding her hands to desperate chaos, Maura untucks the sheet completely.

Freed, Lena scrambles upright and presses herself into the corner, where the bedside table met the wall. Approaching slowly, Maura lifts both hands where Lena can see them.

"Stay-- stay back--" Lena chokes, blinking in the suddenly light. "Don't, please--"

"Lena, it's okay, it's me-- It's Maura. You're safe. I won't come any closer." She kneels where she stands, still more than an arms-breadth away. "It's okay. It's Maura. You're safe."

Finally, Lena's eyes focus, scanning the room as her breath comes sharp and fast. Then she looks at Maura, and recognizes her.

"Maur-- Maura?"

"Yes, it's me. You're in my house, in Boston. Do you remember?"

Lena nods jerkily. "I-- Did I hurt you?"

"Sweetie, no... no, of course not. We're both fine." Maura inches closer as Lena silently starts to cry. "It's okay..."

But she wonders, even as she says it, because as she scoots closer, she sees what the fluffy sweaters have been hiding. Lena's tank top exposes a long neck mottled with aging bruises, with matching handprints curling around both biceps in wide bands of yellow and green.

Most alarming, though, are the deep, furrowed scabs circling her wrists, where she had struggled to free herself of bonds... and failed.

"What do you need?" Maura asks when she notices Lena searching the space around her.

"M--my phone," she chokes out. "I need my phone--"

Maura spies it on the bedside table and disconnects it from its charging cord. As soon as it's in Lena's hands she's dialing a number so fast Maura doesn't catch a single digit.

It doesn't ring long.

"It's me--" Lena struggles to get herself back under control and somewhat manages. "I'm fine, I just-- just wanted to h-hear your--" Lena covers her mouth with one hand, pressing her eyes shut.

Maura has to rub her hand over her own mouth, to keep from breaking down herself. In the silence, she hears Kara calling Lena's name.

Lena takes a ragged breath, pulling her hand away to run it through her tangled hair as her features crumple.

"I need you," she whispers. "I need you."

Five minutes later, Jane opens the door to Kara Danvers standing on the stoop in her pajamas and bunny slippers-- complete with floppy ears.

"Hotel?"

Jane had assumed Kara might follow Lena to Boston. It's what she'd do, if Maura had been missing for a month and then decided to skip town. Give her space, but stay on hand...

Already halfway inside before Jane had finished speaking, blue eyes snap sharply to her. "What?" Kara asks distractedly.

"Never mind..."

Kara is already gone, moving swiftly towards the guest room. Jane stares after her, until Maura appears a short moment later.

Her eyes are damp and red, and melts instantly into Jane's embrace. Jane had already been asleep when Maura came home, and only awakened at Lena's sharp shout of alarm. She'd dashed to the guest room and then stood helplessly in the doorway with gun in hand as Lena slowly fell apart.

"It'll be okay," Jane whispers. "She's not alone."

For a shameful moment, Jane is actually envious of the bruised woman sitting in her guest room. She still remembers the nightmares she had after Hoyt, before she and Maura had come together. Before she'd allowed her mother access into her life as a cop, she'd had those nightmares and suffered them alone.

Lena isn't alone. She was accepting comfort in a way Jane never had. Until Maura.

"I love you," she murmurs against Maura's hair, and feels her wife shudder with muffled tears in response.

The next morning, Jane and Maura emerge from their bedroom on the tail end of a conversation between Lena and Kara in the kitchen.

"...if you don’t want to come back, fine. I can stay here," Kara murmurs quietly.

"I won't be what keeps you from National City," Lena counters. "I can’t be what keeps you from that. I'm not ready to go back, but I can't keep you away."

"I want to be here. You need me more than they do--"

"Kara, please."

Kara sighs, just as Jane and Maura join them. "Okay," she accepts. She holds Lena's gaze for a long moment, before finally turning to greet their hosts with a strained smile. "Good morning."

"Morning," Jane returns, eyeing them both.

"How are you both feeling?" Maura asks, though her eyes remain locked on Lena.

Lena nods. "Fine."

"I was just leaving," Kara informs them. "But thank you for letting me crash here last night. And for giving Lena a place to stay while she's here."

"Of course," Maura returns.

Kara turns back back to Lena. "You'll call? If you need anything...?"

"Always."

That seems to be enough for Kara. She glances at her phone. "There's my Uber. I'll call you when I land, okay?"

Lena nods, and allows one last kiss before Kara takes her leave. Before Maura could start in on Lena herself, her cell phone rings in the bedroom.

"I'll be right back," she sighs.

Now it's just Jane and Lena, alone for the first time since Lena had come to them. Lena has yet to pull on a sweater, and the evidence of her abuse is vivid in the light of day.

Jane rubs the scars that mar her own palms, and tries not to stare.

"I'm sorry for the commotion last night," Lena says quietly.

Jane glances up at her, quickly shaking her head. "Oh. No, no, I get it. I get it." An awkward silence follows. Swallowing, Jane takes the plunge. "It gets easier," she promises.

Green eyes flash to her, and then soften as Lena makes the connection, and hears the truth running beneath the words that would be a platitude from anyone who hasn't been a victim themselves.

"And you know, they'll keep looking for whoever did it..."

Lena shakes her head. "I know exactly who took me," she says, voice heavy. "And they won't find a single trace of her."

"What do you mean?" Maura returns at that moment, and zeroes in on Lena like a bloodhound. "The news said--"

"It was my mother," Lena confesses. Maura's protest catches in her throat, even as her hand curls tightly against her phone. "She did this."

"But why would Lillian--"

"Because she's a sociopath. She doesn't care for anything beside her own agenda, or anyone. She wanted me to help her, and when I refused she thought she could encourage me."

Now Jane realizes what Maura meant in the cafe, and what she'd shared with Angela.

"I'm the only one who can stop her."

Jane looks at Lena’s resolute face, and then shares a glance with Maura. Neither of them are strangers to vengeance, or moral responsibility. But something in Lena's voice makes Jane's skin crawl, and she struggles to find something to say that won't invite information she doesn't want to know.

"But not today," she says finally.

Lena smiles, though her eyes remain dark. "No," she agrees. "Not today."

Jane nods, and claps her hands together. "Okay, then. Who wants pancakes?"

#i wrote dis #supercorp #rizzles #lena luthor #maura isles #kara danvers #jane rizzoli #supergirl #rizzoli & isles #in this headcanon angela took janes apartment when jane moved in with maura #i love these girls #my poor babies #i hate myself a little #but i also kinda love me #this is long #so i added a read more (finally)

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