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duelistkingdom · 3 years

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you’d come back to me

chapter fifteen: romance

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Summary: Seto Kaiba has been presumed dead for four years after the events of Dark Side of Dimensions. His return causes both unresolved feelings of grief to be brought to the surface and the past to be dragged right back up. In hopes of helping Seto move on and reintegrate back into society at large, Mokuba asks Yugi to work on Spherium II with Seto. Never one to leave a friend hanging, Yugi agrees. Over the course of the project, Seto and Yugi both come to terms with their mutual grief and grow towards a better understanding of each other.

Rating: T

Ships: Yugi Mutou/Seto Kaiba, Mokuba Kaiba/Rebecca Hopkins, Katusya Jonouchi/Mai Kujaku

Warnings: aged up characters, grief, references to suicide

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Seto had never really had time for romance before. He’d always had some sort of project and some reason to put it off. It had been easier to avoid dating when no one ever really appealed as someone to have around Mokuba. Between his duty to Kaiba Corp and Mokuba, Seto had dozens of reasons to not date. Now he had none of those reasons. He was starting to find that he actually liked going on dates with Yugi. Most of the time Yugi would take him to dinner. This time, Yugi had asked him to go to a concert with him. Seto had been tempted to turn down the offer simply because the idea of being near people in a standing only capacity gave him hives. Yugi, however, had predicted this and said they had seats.

On the day of the concert, however, Yugi had abruptly said that he needed to get his camera from his childhood bedroom. “Why didn’t you get it before?”

“Forgot about it til now,” Yugi said with a shrug as they entered the Kame Game Shop. Instead of Suguroko, a woman was there with an apron on. “Hi, mom. This is my boyfriend, Seto. Seto, my mom, Yui Mutou. Mom, I thought grandpa was supposed to be working today?”

Seto would have expected that this was a ruse to introduce him to his mother if it wasn’t for that last sentence. Regardless, Seto stiffened as Yui’s eyes went wide. “He was,” she said as she stepped out from behind the counter. It struck Seto how almost everyone in the Mutou family was short. This woman could not have been more than 5’5”. “I wish I’d known you boys were coming over! I would’ve had snacks!”

“There’s no need,” Seto said as Yugi bound up the stairs, leaving Seto behind to fumble with Yui on his own. “We are merely here to pick up a camera from Yugi’s room.”

“Oh,” Yui exclaimed, looking a little embarrassed. “You should probably go tell Yugi that his grandfather took it for repairs. I’ll find another camera for him to use. Oh, also, you two absolutely have to come over again tomorrow. I’ll make dinner and we can get to know each other! I’ll make sure Shogi is here so he can meet you as well.”

Seo was grateful for the excuse to follow Yugi up the stairs, not bothering to wonder who Shogi might be. He supposed in addition to telling Yugi about the camera, he should tell Yugi that his mother wanted the two of them over for dinner. Following Yugi up the stairs of the Kame Game shop felt strange. Partly because he’d never been this far in the shop and partly because it was so much smaller than he’d expected. His head almost grazed the top of the staircase. It was as if he was unwelcome in this home.

It was hitting Kaiba that he’d never actually been in this room. He was too tall for this room designed for someone who was under six foot. The bed looked as if it could barely contain Yugi now that he’d gotten taller than 5’5” and it was neatly made. Yugi turned to him, a raised brow and a look that Kaiba could finally read: vulnerability. “Sorry it’s not much,” Yugi said as he shrugged. “We only need to be here for a moment, anyway. I just… needed to get my camera before we go to the concert.”

Kaiba noted the photos of his friends on the pinboard. Anzu was the most prominent featured across all the photos and the second most prominent was Jonouchi. He noted that the youngest photo of Yugi featured Anzu and Yugi at some sort of playground that Kaiba was certain no longer existed. The photos where Anzu appeared to be about thirteen had Yugi starting to blush around her and Kaiba felt a stab of jealousy. He knew that Yugi had a crush on Anzu at one point but it was strange to see the proof in the photos. Jonouchi did not show up until Anzu appeared to be sixteen while Yugi still looked rather young.

In fact, the only way to date the photos was by how old Anzu was until the year the Pharaoh had left. “I didn’t realize you’d have so many photos in your room.”

Yugi shrugged as he looked around. “I guess I do have a lot of photos,” Yugi remarked, frowning as he stared at one that was clearly taken before the Pharaoh left. “It’s nice to hold memories to your chest, I guess.”

A stabbing ache entered his chest as he thought of the memories he had. Very few of them he’d considered worth preserving on a bedroom wall like this. “Interesting.” Then he remembered what he was here for. “Your mother said your grandfather took your camera for repairs. She’s getting you another camera to borrow.”

Yugi stopped looking through the draw and slammed it shut. “Wish she’d told me that before I started looking for that,” Yugi remarked. “Alright, then let’s go downstairs. Anything else I should know?”

Seto shifted awkwardly. “She also wants us to come over for dinner tomorrow.”

Yugi had explained that Shogi was the name of his father. Seto supposed he should have known that. Yugi had scoffed when Seto showed up to his apartment in pressed slacks and a button down shirt, remarking that he looked like a dork. Seto would have been more annoyed if it hadn’t led to Yugi reaching out to unbutton his shirt. “You’re just meeting my parents, not pitching a new Duel Disk,” Yugi said and it took everything Seto had to focus on what Yugi was saying. “You don’t need to dress for a board meeting.”

The shirt came off and Yugi handed Seto one of his black turtlenecks that he’d left here. “Isn’t this dirty?”

“Don’t worry, I made sure the clothes you left here got dry cleaned,” Yugi said as he tossed Seto a pair of pants that he’d left behind. “The ones that survived, anyway.”

A blush crept across his cheeks at the mere mention of what tended to happen to his clothes whenever he came over to Yugi’s place. Rather than comment, he instead shuffled off to change as Yugi called out that Seto could’ve changed in the living room. Absolutely not. It gave Seto a chance to think over what he was going to say and do when he met Yugi’s parents. How much of their past did they know? What did they know of the Millennium Puzzle and who had occupied it? He supposed the only way to know those answers would be to ask Yugi directly about it. He exited the bedroom, feeling rather dressed down to meet his boyfriend’s parents. “What do they know about the Puzzle, anyway?”

“Not much,” Yugi said with a shrug as he grabbed his wallet and keys. “They know that you’re why grandpa doesn’t have his Blue Eyes card anymore and they know that I did tournament circuits in high school. They also know grandpa and I went to Cairo in my senior year but they never asked why. I think they think that grandpa was just sharing his love of Egypt with me.”

“They don’t know anything about the Pharaoh?”

Yugi shook his head. “Never bothered to tell them,” he admitted as he led Seto back to his car. Despite everything, Yugi still insisted on driving himself instead of letting Isono drive. “I think they suspected that something was up… after Atem left but they’re under the impression it was simply a break up.”

A break up. Seto supposed it made sense that on top of what little he knew about Yugi that of course his relationship with the Pharaoh had been different from what he thought. He’d assumed Yugi had been irrelevant in the equation, that Yugi had merely been a vessel for the Pharaoh. The more Yugi talked about the Pharaoh, the more Seto realized that Yugi had been more involved than he’d previously thought. “I see.”

“I doubt it’ll come up,” Yugi said with a shrug as the car started. “You don’t have to worry about anything with my parents, I promise.”

Regardless, Seto remained nervous as they arrived at the Kame Game Shop. Instead of going in through the game shop part of the home, Yugi led him through a backdoor that opened into a tiled entryway. The two of them took off their shoes and Seto noted that none of the house slippers would fit him. The pair that apparently were used by Jonouchi was still just a bit too small, leaving his feet still hanging off. Once again, the home’s size was rather small and felt like it was trying to reject him.

The walls were constantly too close and he found himself bumping his elbows against a lot of things. It shouldn’t have been surprising to discover that Shogi Mutou was also short. In fact, Yugi was taller than his father. Shogi, for his part, seemed surprised to see Seto standing in front of him. “I see,” Shogi remarked. “When you said Seto, Yui, I wasn’t expecting it to be Seto Kaiba.”

Yui nudged Shogi with a roll of her eyes as the group sat down at the table. Seto didn’t bother to comment that he wasn’t bothered by Shogi’s reaction. It was entirely possible that most people did not expect a formerly dead CEO to be their son’s date. “Dad, please,” Yugi said and it struck Seto how much Yugi sounded as if he was still a teenager whenever he was around his parents. Was this the impact of parents? Did they make someone act younger? “Don’t embarrass me in front of my boyfriend.”

“Fine,” Shogi said with a grin and Seto saw exactly where Yugi got his smile from. “So you’re still working for Kaiba Corp, right? I heard your brother wouldn’t give you back the CEO position when you came back.”

Seto wasn’t expecting an immediate question on his line of work. “Mokuba felt that I was not yet prepared to return to work at full capacity,” Seto responded, figuring it would be better to not lie to Yugi’s parents. “Instead, he asked me to work with Yugi on Spherium II. I suppose it was to see how I could handle any level of workload.”

“You say that as if you didn’t attempt to stay late several days to work on Spherium II,” Yugi remarked and Seto noted the food in front of them. As Yui promised, it was clearly home cooked and Seto realized that Yugi must have learned to cook from her. He took an experimental bite. It was delicious. “And before you ask, dad, it’s in the beta phase. We’re hoping it’ll be ready for general public release next year. Mokuba and I have been talking about making sure that the Kame Game Shop gets exclusive first launch rights.”

“I’m sure our franchisers will be grateful to have access to such an exclusive launch,” Shogi remarked. “Have you talked to your grandfather about the display?”

“How many times do I have to tell you and Yugi no shop talk at dinner,” Yui said, sounding rather fond instead of truly angry. “Where’s Mokuba, by the way? I was hoping to see him again.”

“He’s having a date night with Rebecca,” Yugi remarked. “I’ll invite him and Rebbeca next time.”

Next time? As in, Yugi expected Seto to come to dinner with his parents again at some point in the future? Seto didn’t understand why Yugi would just assume that this was going to end well. Seto still wasn’t sure that this dinner wouldn’t go south. “Oh, good,” Yui said, looking rather pleased. “I’m glad Rebecca and Mokuba are still together. How is Rebecca’s studies going?”

“She’s hit a wall in her dissertation and has been talking it over with her postgrad supervisor,” Seto answered before Yugi could. “I don’t know why she’s so concerned about the contents of it, however. She’s concerned that the discussion of the AI that Duel Links runs might have been a topic someone else sniped. As if anyone else could understand it the way Rebecca and I do. Aside from that, she’s doing fine.”

If this was news to Yugi, he didn’t show it. “You’ve been helping her, then,” Yui asked. “That’s nice.”

Yugi rolled his eyes in response to that. “Well, Seto did build the entire AI for Duel Links,” Yugi remarked and for a minute, Seto thought he might bring up the AI version of the Pharaoh. Instead, Yugi had a grin on his face. “Makes sense that he’d be able to help Rebecca write a paper on the subject.”

It was strange how this conversation seemed on surface level to be rather low stakes. Nothing either Shogi nor Yui asked ever felt like it was out to get him. Despite this, Seto felt like he was being tested on something he had not prepared for. If Yugi’s parents didn’t like him, would Yugi break up with him? He had to impress Yugi’s parents, if not for the sake of his relationship with Yugi. His entire future with Yugi was at stake. Everything seemed to be going well until Suguroku showed up halfway through. “Sorry about being late,” he remarked, looking rather jovial. “You know how I get caught up with the slots at the casino.”

“Dad, you know how I feel about that joke,” Yui responded, her exasperated sounding voice not pairing right with the fond expression in her wide, soft eyes. “You should know better than to go to the casino.”

“Ah, it’s not gambling if I win,” Suguroku said, eyeing Seto with a twinkle in his eyes. Seto instantly thought back to how Suguroku had wiped the floor with Seto when playing poker. If there was anyone that could win at a casino, Seto would imagine it would have to be Suguroku. “Isn’t that right, Seto?”

Yugi looked embarrassed. “Grandpa, don’t tell me you swindled Seto out of his money.”

“Dad,” Yui said, looking shocked. “Did you play poker with Seto?”

“He’s a fantastic poker player,” Seto said, figuring that there was no point in hiding that Suguroku had indeed pulled one over on him. “I wasn’t expecting him to be that much of a challenge.”

“If you want another challenge, you know where to find me,” Suguroku said, looking rather gleeful. Seto was surprised to find that he did, in fact, want to try to beat Sugoroku again at his own game. “Don’t worry, Yui. I won’t ruin dinner by schooling Seto in the art of poker.”

“And yet no one seems to ever learn,” Shogi remarked. “You know, Seto, when I first met Suguroku, he immediately took all the money I was planning on using for my date with Yui in a game of poker. Instead of taking her to the movies as I planned, I wound up taking her to the park for a walk.”

Suguroku laughed as if this was a funny story. “Well, at least it proves you were good at thinking on your feet,” he added on. “Besides, Yui thought it was sweet!”

“I thought it was charming and unique,” Yui said, a fond look in her eyes. “I wouldn’t trade that first date for anything. Besides, you made up for it with the next date. He took me to this wonderful restaurant that served the best crab legs you’ll ever have.”

“See,” Suguroku said with a wink at Seto. “Always a second chance to make a better impression.”

There was something buried in that and Seto couldn’t understand it. Was Suguroku still angry with him for what had happened? No, that couldn’t be it. It was very clear that Suguroku was well past everything that had happened all those years ago. “This is true,” Shogi said. “Not only that, you might find that it’s for the best that things happened the way they did.”

“Though I do have to ask,” Suguroku said, looking mischievous. “When are you planning on making an honest man out of my grandson?”

“Dad,” Yui exclaimed, looking mortified. “Sorry, he did that to Shogi too,” she said, sounding as if she was trying to smooth things over. Despite Yui and Yugi’s mortified expression, Seto couldn’t relax. The concept was overwhelming and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Yugi said in a rush, a bright red flush appearing across his cheeks. “Seriously, grandpa, there’s no need to pressure anyone here.”

Despite the assurances from Yugi and his parents, Seto started to wonder when that would be expected of him. Was he ready for that? Seto did want a future with Yugi. That was all he knew. He didn’t know what marriage would mean here, nor did he know what that would feel like. What he knew as of right now was that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Yugi. What was marriage if not a promise of that? Still, it was not something he wanted to discuss with Yugi’s parents as of yet. Not until he knew for sure that he was ready.

In fact, he was certain that if he wanted to be worthy of marrying Yugi, there were still a few more things he needed to do before he could reach that point. Seto could only hope that Yugi would be willing to wait for Seto to be certain that he could provide a stable future for the two of them. And as the night went on, Seto started to realize that perhaps he could settle into having a family again. It was strange to feel so welcome.

At the end of the night, Yui grabbed him by the cheeks, pulling him down so she could press a kiss to his forehead. She shoved leftovers in his hands, fretting about how he was simply too skinny. No matter how much he stammered that he was fine, she insisted on trying to take care of him. Was this what a mother was? She told him that he could come over any time if he needed more food. For some reason, he thought that he might actually take her up on the offer if only because dinner had been fantastic.

Shogi had given Seto a polite bow, telling him that he was often out of the city for work and gave Seto his cell phone number. This came with a demand that Seto use it if he needed to talk to anyone. Seto wasn’t sure what use that would be to him. Shogi had pulled Seto aside after Yui finished fretting over Seto. “I know that you don’t have a father in your life,” Shogi said, sounding concerned. Seto had no idea what this had to do with anything. He hadn’t had a father for years. It was the one thing that he knew for sure about this new world he’d come back to. “But if you’re dating my son, that makes you my son too. That means I’m going to be here for you, Seto.”

Despite the temptation to state that he had no need for a father, he couldn’t bring himself to say that. It was strange how it felt like he wanted to both shove Shogi away and start crying in gratitude for the approval. Instead of doing either of those things, he merely nodded. “I’m glad to have your approval of my relationship with your son,” Seto said softly. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

#rivalshipping #rivalshipping fanfic #myfanfic #fanfic: you'd come back to me #fic: you'd come back to me

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misscrazyfangirl321 · 4 years

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Proving Ourselves

A late contribution to Friends and Family August, because I wanted to finish strong, but writer’s block got in my way. Set in my universe where Sean finds out that he is Trubel’s father.*

*Feel free to message me for full backstory

Fandom: Grimm

Relationships: Theresa Rubel and Sean Renard

Vienna.

He hadn’t been there in years, not since just after his brother’s death, and he honestly never planned to go back. It was over; when his father died, there was hardly a point in the Royals keeping up the fight. (Hardly anyone left to keep fighting.)

But that was where one of the last keys was, and he truly did want to prove himself to this team. He made his choice, finally, but he knew that was only the first step. So he offered to go retrieve the key from the Royals.

At least Trubel wanted to come with him. Granted, it probably had more to do with not trusting him than any desire for father/daughter bonding, but it was something. He’d have to be careful, but if he played his cards right, he might be able to win her over a little.

“I’ll get us a couple of tickets,” he announced, and she gave a slow nod. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through websites until he found a good deal, and was just about to order them when she peered over his shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. First class?” She shook her head. “No way I can afford that.”

He waved her off. “I’ve got it.” Frankly, it sounded like a wonderful chance to spoil her a little. Clearly, she hadn’t had that enough in her life, and he had every intention of changing that.

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Seriously? What, you think you buy me lots of nice things, and it’ll convince me that you’re a good guy now? Nah. That’s easy. You want to prove something? Prove you really care?” She fixed him with a cold stare. “Fly in the back of the plane. Absolute worst seats. No fancy service, no nice chairs…” She looked him over pointedly. “No leg room.”

And that was… Well. Not an altogether pleasant idea, although he’d definitely done things more uncomfortable than that. Trudging through sewers in Vienna, for one.

Still, though. For his daughter, anything.

“Consider it done.”

Two hours into the flight, and Sean was really starting to miss first class. He shifted a little in his seat, legs aching. Trubel didn’t turn back, just kept staring at her hands, but she must have seen out of the corner of her eyes; her lips twitched, just a little. And that made it all worth it.

… Probably.

Making a mental note to take some pain meds as soon as he landed, he glanced at his watch. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much later than it was the last time he checked. Or the time before that.

Ridiculous.

“Hey, uh-” It was the first time Trubel had spoken since boarding the flight, and he turned to her, maybe a bit too eager. So sue him; he wanted to talk to his daughter (and have something-anything-to focus on besides the growing cramp in his leg). But after a moment, she shook her head. “Forget it.”

“What is it?” He was trying not to push, truly, but she started this.

“I was just… Thinking about Mom.”

Oh. He drew in a breath, tilting his head to the side. “What about her?” Purposefully gentle, trying not to spook her. Trubel was one of the bravest people he’d ever known when it came to fights, but when it came to emotions, one false move could send her scurrying back inside herself. She gets that from me, he mused wryly, although it probably wasn’t fair to credit himself with anything she’d become.

She shrugged, clearly trying (and failing) to feign nonchalance. “Just… She was, like… Peaceful. Bake bread, make tea, smile at people… That kind of thing, right?”

“Right…?” He raised a brow, wondering if she was trying to make sense of his and Rebecca’s relationship. If so, he wished her luck. Many had tried, and all had failed.

“Think she’d be… Disappointed in me, or something?”

Oh, sweetheart. The endearment felt natural in his mind, but he managed-barely-to bite it back; he rather liked having his head attached, after all. “No,” he replied simply. “Definitely not.” Hopefully that would be enough.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Right. I don’t even know why I asked you. You didn’t even know that she was a G-” She caught herself, glancing around to see if anyone was listening. Everyone seemed distracted in their own stuff, but she still only mouthed the end of the sentence: “Grimm.”

His gut twisted, and in spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t quite hide his flinch. It was true, of course; Rebecca kept that from him, and even though there was a lot he didn’t tell her, it ached, knowing that she didn’t trust him enough to tell him. The pot and the kettle, he supposed.

Trubel hesitated, maybe realizing that she’d struck a nerve. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I-”

“No,” he interrupted, forcing himself to exhale, to let the pain drift to the background. This was not about him. “You’re right; I didn’t. But I know how she thought.” He reached for her, hand lingering in the air between them, but didn’t dare close the gap.

She turned, finally facing him properly, and he let his hand fall to his knee. She said nothing, but her head was tilted to the side; at least she was listening.

“Rebecca believed in peace. But she always said it took two kinds of people to keep it: people who made it, and people who defended it. Artists, teachers… People like her. They make peace. But it’s up to people like you-” and me, he almost said, but he doubted she’d appreciate the parallel. “-to keep it.”

It had been more than twenty years since he’d last heard that spiel, but he could still remember every word of it. When things got to be too much-when he was drowning in guilt from his first shooting, no matter how many lives it saved-she gathered him up in her arms, stroking his hair, whispering the reassurances on a loop.

Trubel swallowed, watching him with wide eyes, but said nothing. He took that as his cue to continue.

“Believe me when I say that your mother would be so incredibly proud of the woman you’ve become. And-” his throat was a little too tight-there was that fear- “I know it probably doesn’t mean much to you right now, but… I am too.”

She turned away sharply, and for a horrifying moment he thought he’d crossed a line. He had no right to be proud, he had nothing to do with it, with how incredible she was, and now she was shutting him out, and-

A shudder ran through her, and he stopped short, panic giving way to realization: she was crying. Dabbing fiercely at her eyes with the edges of her sleeve, wrapping her other arm tightly around herself. Trying desperately to keep it in.

Should he just pretend he didn’t notice? Probably. But his heart ached at the thought of his little girl inches away from him, crying her eyes out all alone.

After a moment’s debate, he reached into his pocket, retrieving a handkerchief, and set it on her leg.

She froze, then looked down, and snorted. She lifted it up, wiping away her tears, wiping her nose, and taking deep breaths. Finally, she gave him a wry look. “You’re not getting this back.”

“I have more.” A ridiculous number, in fact. His father, for all his flaws, always went out of his way to send a handkerchief for Christmas. (Or at the very least, someone on his staff did. Privately, Sean always suspected the cook, Milly; she was always kind to him and his mother, after all.)

“Of course you do.”

The lapsed into silence, and he let his thoughts drift: first to Milly, then to his mother, and finally to Rebecca.

“What’cha thinking about?” Trubel asked, and he swallowed, grateful that she was reaching out but wishing she’d chosen any other time to do it.

Still, he wasn’t going to lie to her. “Just... I got to thinking about what your mother would say if she could see me now.”

Working with Black Claw? Kidnapping Kelly? Killing Meisner? Oh, she’d hate him now, wouldn’t she? Would the fact that he was trying now-that he was doing the best he could-for their daughter, for Diana, for Nick-outweigh the things he’d done? Hard to say. Not likely.

“She’d…” Trubel hesitated, offering him a shaky smile. “She’d say you got old?”

It took a few moments for him to register the tentative olive branch, but when he did, he couldn’t help but laugh. A nameless sort of relief washed over him, as if he’d been waiting for this all along and hadn’t realized it.

“Now, I’ll take a lot of accusations,” he shot back. “Frankly, most of them are probably true. But if you’re saying I’ve lost my dashing good looks… That I won’t take.”

“Gross!” She laughed, shoving his shoulder, and he couldn’t stop the ridiculous smile spreading across his face. And just for a moment, he knew that it didn’t matter what happened next: with the keys, the team, or even the Jabberwocky.

Everything was going to be okay.

#theresa rubel #sean renard #grimm #6it #my fics #my writing #my works #mine #grimm nbc #faf august

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concealeddarkness13 · 3 years

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WHG Post Games Boat Heist Part 2

Tagging my collaborators: @ratracechronicler (also thanks for Elvira, Rebecca, Captain Skeates, and Chaudhary!), @maple-writes (also thanks for Cirrus and Asher!), and @pen-of-roses (also thanks for Rowan!)

Nesri

We all met up back in our room a few hours later, and I forced thoughts of Churi out of my head. Some of us (me mainly) had already exchanged information, but we’d be able to really figure out what everyone found out. We all squeezed into the room and sat down in a circle.

Rowan looked over at Zenith. “I hope your end went better than mine?”

He grimaced. “I found where Evie, Alastair, and Poli are staying, but Evie somehow saw both me and Alastair wearing Peacekeeper uniforms, and she’s scared to get close to us.”

They sighed. “Lynn didn’t buy, or at least didn’t say the Peacekeeper story, but he seemed convinced that I wasn’t real somehow. Either it wasn’t me, someone was pretending to be me, or…I don’t even know but it’s not looking good.” Well, shit. This was worse than I thought it would be.

Asher nodded. “The Capitol suspected we might be here. I heard they have plans to stop us.”

“Is that why Lynn looked at me like a rotten fish carcass and not a knight in shining armor?” Rebecca winced. “Great.”

“She looked at you and thought you were wearing Peacekeeper uniforms or thought she’d seen you in them at some earlier time?” Elvira asked, looking at Zenith.

“She asked me why I was wearing a Peacekeeper uniform. But she didn’t seem particularly surprised. The Capitol must have already been lying to her.” He frowned. “We might want to change our plans a little. We won’t be able to rescue them tonight.”

Triel sighed dramatically. “And after I went through all that trouble to book an appointment with Snow tonight.”

“We will rescue them though, right?” Rowan looked a little panicked.

Zenith, ever the serious and calm one, nodded. “We just need to figure out what the Capitol is doing. Hopefully, we can still rescue them during this party.”

“Appointment?” Rebecca frowned at Triel.

She nodded. “I’ve been pretending to be a Capitol reporter for a few weeks, and I’ve even published some interviews with the stylists and a few mentors. I built up that persona so I could get close to Snow without too much suspicion. I asked to interview him tonight, but the appointment really was for his dunk in the lake.”

Rowan spoke slowly. “The appointment could still be good though. Get a better insight into tomorrow’s events maybe? Or learn about the ship, or…”

She nodded again. “I might need the help of my lovely assistant, however.” She smirked over at Elvira.

“How about two or five?”

Triel cocked her head, looking genuinely confused. “If anyone else in the gang shows up, he’ll probably recognize them from the Games.”

Cirrus grinned, taking a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “If you need someone he wouldn’t see, I might have someone.” He handed the paper to Triel. “Her name’s Amy, one of the avoxes on board. She wrote this out for me earlier and seems in on the plan.”

Triel’s eyes shined as she read the paper. “Perfect. I’ll make sure to recruit her to the president overboard gang.”

Elvira looked surprised. “Oh. I actually met some of my old friends—they’re national thieves and pirates at large and unknown to the government. They’re here to rob the place. I struck up an accord with them. One in particular would very much favor a…bit of a ruckus. But Amy works too.”

“At the very least she could get you in,” Cirrus said. “I haven’t spoken to her about actually pushing anyone.” He paused with a sigh. “She was on stage with Lynne. I don’t want her to get hurt again.”

I winced, and Zenith and Triel did the same. Yes, we definitely needed to help her escape too. Triel nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to Elvira. “I do think I would need some more assistants, especially if they are our mutual friends.”

“Captain Skeates will gladly help defy the Capitol, especially if I ask, and the others will follow her lead. She’s a genius, as you likely know, Quartermaster Chaudhary has the guns, and Mirabel has the gadgets. Tell me what you need us to do.”

Triel grinned. “Oh, I simply must have more assistants. I haven’t seen them in a year.”

“Whatever you do, try and push him off the right side of the boat,” Asher added. “I convinced—” His eyes flickered to Zenith. “Some security, to move some safety equipment away from the area.”

“You mean the starboard side?” Rebecca asked loudly.

“I don’t know whether to be happy that worked or even more irritated with them that they moved it,” Rowan scoffed.

“I don’t know, I just told them the right side,” Asher mumbled.

Zenith eyed Asher suspiciously but didn’t comment. And it was finally time for me to interject with my own discovery. “I found an old friend, and he’s invited us to meet the captain. He says they will help. And he’s a horrible liar, so I trust him.” Rebecca mouthed my last sentence to herself, eyebrows bunched, pointing as if she was doing some calculations, so I laughed and clarified. “I’m just saying, I’d know when he’s lying, so he wasn’t when he said he wanted to help us.”

Elvira nodded in understanding.

I clapped my hands when there were no objections. “So, if that’s all we need to talk about, how about we go and meet this captain? Maybe they’ll know more about what’s going on with the captured tributes. They’re supposed to know everything about the ship anyway, right?”

“Ooh, yeah!” Rebecca said. “Let’s kinda leave at different times and go different routes so we don’t draw attention to us all as a group, right? The captain’s at the bridge, I’m assuming? That raised bit kinda near the back of the yacht up on top with the windows?”

I nodded. “That sounds great! I’m with grumpy!” I grabbed Zenith’s arm, and he grumbled.

Triel eyed Elvira. “Could we walk together and discuss our plans more?”

“Gladly.” She smiled a little.

Asher looked grateful as he nodded. “Meet in ten minutes?”

Rowan nodded. “Ten minutes.”

As Zenith and I walked to the bridge, I eyed him. He was serious, as always, but at least that meant he was reliable. I forced myself to smile. “So, you might want to be on the lookout for shady individuals.”

He frowned over at me. “What are you talking about?”

I made sure to sound nonchalant. “Oh, I don’t know. Any Peacekeepers who are more suspicious than the usual Peacekeepers. Something like that.”

He sighed. “Nesri, is Churi here?”

I flinched. “Damn. Am I that obvious? I need to practice in front of a mirror so I don’t give it away to anyone else.”

Zenith stopped and put a hand on my shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “He hasn’t bothered you, has he?”

I laughed it off, and I actually sounded genuine even to myself. “Nah. I’ve avoided him. Don’t worry.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “And you’ll let one of us know before you decide to do something stupid, right?”

“Of course. Thanks, Zenith. Just keep an eye out for him.” I kept walking, forcing the smile to stay on my lips. Zenith would watch to make sure that he didn’t bother any of my gang, and I would confront him tonight when Triel was busy to make sure he didn’t approach anyone else.

Triel

“What’s your plan then?” Elvira eyed me as we walked to the bridge.

I grinned, but my mind was still focusing on Nora. She was here. I could see her again. But, right, the plan. “I was thinking, since I am pretending to be an interviewer, I convince the Peacekeepers to give us some space, and I ask some truly scandalous questions, like how he can live with all the children’s deaths on his conscience while my lovely assistant dunks the Peacekeepers in the water oh so subtly. Then, when he’s good and angry, both of us work together to dunk the president. But now, with more assistants, the Peacekeepers won’t be as much of a problem, and neither will the president.”

Elvira nodded. “We can arrange for something suspicious to happen a bit out at ‘sea’ to draw the Peacekeeper’s attention and ensure they’re all within easy pushing distance from the railing. Good of you to think of them. How many assistants do you think you’ll need?”

“The president might take more than two of us, so at least two, including you, but there are about eight Peacekeepers around him, overkill if you ask me, so probably five total assistants, if you think five assistants can knock eight Peacekeepers overboard and then knock the president overboard. Is Chaudhary here? She could probably take three at least herself.”

“She probably could.” Elvira beamed. “Let me see…I know Mirabel and Sid are in.” She paused. “I don’t personally know who else she’s hired lately, but there’ll likely be enough to suit the need.” She raised an eyebrow. “The captain probably wouldn’t push someone in by herself, but I might be able to convince her to join us in, say, taking Snow out of the forecast.” She winced to herself at her pun.

Nora. I grinned when Elvira mentioned her. “That sounds wonderful! Tell me, is Nora still wearing a ravishing hat? If so, I simply must steal it from her!”

“Ah, which one?” Elvira groaned in understanding.

“She probably got a new one just for the occasion. Which means she’s not as attached to it yet. Maybe I could actually steal it…”

Elvira suppressed chortles, and I eyed her. “We should meet up with Nora and her crew before this happens to discuss the plan together.” I paused. It would be so good to see her. “And to catch up,” I mumbled. I spoke up. “Anyway, the schedule has changed, so it won’t happen tonight most likely.”

“I see. I think this will work rather well.” She paused. “…She speaks highly of you. I thought you should know.”

Shit. Damn emotions. I wiped away any evidence of tears as we kept walking in silence.

Zenith

We met up outside the bridge, and Nesri grinned at the guy that must have been Kiryth. He let us in, and I frowned at the captain. They wore eyepatches on both of their eyes, and they wore a pristine naval uniform. The parrot perched on their shoulder also had a tiny pristine naval uniform. Kiryth waved at them. “Hello, Captain Reeves! I wanted to introduce you to some people who aren’t Capitol puppets.”

The parrot looked over at us, and I tensed. It looked angry. “Yo ho ho!” it squawked.

The captain turned to us with a frown. “You brought rebels in here?” They paused. “Brilliant! What do they need help with?”

Asher looked between the captain and the parrot, looking completely confused.

“Understanding the multiple eyepatches?” Rebecca muttered to herself.

Triel was trying not to laugh, and Nesri was failing. This was…odd. But nothing I couldn’t handle. “Do you know anything about the guests being forced to see other guests differently than they should, Captain Reeves?”

The captain burst out laughing. “The parrot doesn’t know anything about navigation!” Wait. What? They gestured at the parrot. “She’s Captain Reeves, and my name is Smith! Now, about what you asked, I do have a machine that sends some data to a place on the mainland. But I have no access to the data.”

“Does, does Reeves have access?” Asher looked nervous.

“Or do you know anyone who does?” Elvira asked.

Smith shook their head. “Neither of us have access. Don’t know if you meddling with the machine would do you any good anyway. But…” They paused. “I did hear some idiot Peacekeeper talking about how this big machine—” They gestured at a machine off to the side. “gets data from these small machines that were integrated into the shockers that the tributes wear. If you could figure out how to disable those smaller machines, you’d be able to stop them from seeing things you don’t want.”

“Yo ho ho,” Captain Reeves agreed.

Nesri started texting, probably to Shine, while Rebecca glared at the parrot. She took a deep breath. “Perfect. Thanks, Capt—er…Helms…person Smith.”

Nesri spoke up. “Shine says their disablers might work, but it’s a long shot. Is there any way we can try it before we can try it on them?”

We decided on trying it out on Laurel tonight, but I wasn’t part of the group, so there wasn’t anything to do tonight. Just sit and watch for suspicious...Peacekeepers.

Triel

After we met with the interesting captain, Elvira and I wandered off to find Nora. Knowing her, she would probably be sampling the drinks.

Sure enough, there she was, sitting next to Chaudhary and swirling her drink in the most nonchalant and dramatic way at the same time. I grinned. It was good to see her again.

She made eye contact with us as we walked up, and all I wanted to do was hug her and ask her how she was doing, but we were here on business first, so I just sat down next to her. Nora touched her hat in salutations, and my eyes lingered on it. That was a ravishing hat.

I tore my eyes away and started my proposal. “I have a plan, and I would greatly appreciate your help, Nora. We’re planning on pushing the president and his Peacekeepers into the water for a distraction, but I would need help to make that go smoothly. We were hoping for that to happen tonight, but something came up, and we had to move our plans back a day. I will be meeting with the dear president soon to change the time of our meeting. I was wondering if you would be willing to let me borrow some of your crew to help out in this plan.”

Nora didn’t speak for a little bit, just watching, but then a smile slowly broke across her face. “Well, hello to you, too, Sparrow. My, but you are in the thick of it, aren’t you.” She paused, sipping her drink. “…How many do you need, and what do we need to know? Just say the word.”

I grinned. I had missed her so much! “Thank you. I should only need four other assistants, since Elvira also agreed to help. I am posing as a Capitol reporter wanting to interview Snow, and while I’m ‘interviewing’ him, the assistants will throw the Peacekeepers overboard. Then we’ll proceed to throw the dear president overboard.”

“I’ve seen the reports, and I’d wondered what you were up to. I believe you really did learn a thing or two from your stay on my ship. You’ve grown since then.” She added the last sentence almost distractedly, but it still made me swell with pride.

Chaudhary grinned over at me. “Four should be no problem. We have half that right here.”

I grinned back at her. “Are you volunteering Nora? I didn’t think she’d want to get her hands dirty throwing someone else overboard.”

Chaudhary grinned at Nora. “What do you say, love? Get your hands dirty?”

She daintily examined her fingernails. “I’ll wear gloves.”

Business was over, so I could tease now. I smiled at Nora. “Then we have an agreement. Thank you! But I must say, that hat of yours is simply gorgeous. I might have to add it to my own collection.” I ran my finger over the tip of my own hat.

“Yours is marvelous.” She beamed. “Touch mine, and you forfeit your fingers.”

Damn, I missed her. “But a sparrow doesn’t have fingers…”

“Touché.” She held up her drink in toast. “It’s good to see you again, Sparrow…Good to see you’ve spread your wings.”

Lynne

That night, I was supposed to dance with Aster, and I was supposed to look happy, but that Peacekeeper uniform meant I didn’t want to look at him. He was frowning at me.

“Ev,” I flinched at the nickname. “are you okay? What are you seeing right now?”

I swallowed hard. “You in a Peacekeeper uniform. They—they did something to make you work for them. You might not even be aware of it. I don’t know how the magic they mentioned works. And it’s all because of me. I am so sorry.”

He squeezed my hand. “It’s not like that at all. They’re lying to you, Ev. I’m not working for them.”

I couldn’t believe that. Not after the video. Not after seeing all my friends in Peacekeeper uniforms. Of course they would want them to tell me that they were fine, just to hurt me worse later.

His voice came out as a whisper. “Please, Ev. Please. Believe me. I want to help you. Please.”

“I can’t believe you, Aster. I’m sorry. They’re using you against me, and this will just hurt worse if I believe you. I have to escape and help you once I have enough resources to do that.”

The dance ended, and I walked off. I was not obligated to stay. I had to find Lynn and start escaping.

#writeblr hunger games #whg #writeblr

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years

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Running if You Call My Name || Blanche and Kaden

TIMING: After the mime bombing and APPARENTLY after Nora was shot whoops PARTIES: @harlowhaunted and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Blanche called a hunter to come pick her up from a haunted house

The second Blanche called him crying, Kaden was out the door. Well, to be honest, he had already been out the door walking Abel, but he turned around and marched right to his car with the dog at his heels all the same. He may have ran through a stop sign or two on his way to Misery Manor. Why the fuck she was there at that stupid haunt, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. He was burning rubber to go get her. And to get answers to what happened. He couldn’t make out what she said through the blubbering. To be fair, he wasn't convinced he could have followed it without her tears. It didn’t matter. She was hurt. She called. He drove. When he pulled up to the entrance of the haunted house, Abel hopped over to the passenger’s side window and barked for Blanche. She looked so sad and broken. Whoever did this was going to pay, he knew that much. He got out of the car and Abel followed behind him. “What happened?”

Blanche told the employee that helped her sorry ass back to the front entrance to the haunted to please leave her alone and that yes someone was coming to get her and no she wasn’t planning on filing a complaint on their website. She was so relieved and even a little surprised that Kaden agreed to come get her. He had been the first person she thought to call and he was mad at her. But still, he said he was coming. She was still sniffling when Kaden pulled up, hurriedly trying to wipe her eyes. But it was too late, all the stress, anxiety, and exhaustion had burst out of her and it apparently had no plans of stopping any time soon. Rebecca’s betrayal - that thing’s betrayal? - stung, and the embarrassment of being tricked hung over her. “Abel?” was the first thing she said when Kaden came up to her. Her eyes immediately started watering again and she shook her head. “It - Rebecca. She’s - “ She swallowed back a sob and got up, hissing when she put weight on her twisted ankle. “She’s possessed.” Blanche said. “And it tricked me! And -” Uh oh. Blanche hurriedly wiped her eyes again. “Can we - Can we just get in the car? Please. I just want to get out of here.”

Abel bounded over to Blanche and probably thought the salty tears all over her face were great because he immediately went to lick her. “Abel, come on, cut it out.” Kaden knew he wouldn’t listen but if Blanche wanted him away, she could easily push him off. “Would you fucking wait?” he said as she went to stand up on her very clearly swollen ankle. Putain, he wasn’t sure how she could be that fucking stubborn. He put his arm around her to help stabilize her. “Stop walking on that foot, you’ll make it worse.” He almost missed what she was saying, he was too busy trying to keep her from hurting herself even more as he led her to the car. “Possessed? Does she know you’re a medium?” Fuck, his mind started to race through what could have gone on that night that led to this and, she mentioned telekinesis earlier right? “Why were you even here?” Thankfully, for all of Abel’s failure as a hunting dog, he was loyal and overall good enough to follow his owner and one of his newer best friends to the car, waiting for Kaden to open the door to the car. And he hopped onto the passenger seat as soon as he could. “Abel, move!” The dog just looked at him, tongue out, smiling, sitting there.

She was actually happy to have the dog slobber all over her, if only because she got to pet him before Kaden went to help her to the car. Damn it she could walk herself! Or, well, actually, no she couldn’t. That stupid Misery Manor employee had half carried her back around here. “Rebecca knows. That thing knows too,” Blanche said sniffed. “It was just supposed to be a haunted house - you know? For some quick and easy adrenaline pumping fun so I could stop having a - god. It probably just fed me a bunch of bullshit,” Blanche groaned, watching as Kaden opened the door, only for her seat to be taken by an adorable dog. Blanche stared, before she gave a watery laugh. She was still exhausted, but Abel had successfully beaten her rotten mood. “Abel, can I sit? Can I sit? Down boy!” Blanche cooed, making the hand gesture. Of course, Abel listened to her, and she shuffled into the seat herself, wincing, before looking up at Kaden as she reached down to pet him. She took a deep breath, just so she could get something useful before she started a new round of tears. “Rebeca’s an exorcist,” Blanche said. “And she’s - it took me in the house. The house gave me a panic attack -” she winced slightly, “I fell down. She - it… was nasty.” Hearing the words pathetic child in her head made her scowl. “I figured it out. I should have figured it out sooner - I can sense them, I just -” Blanche swung her legs into the car, and patted her lap for Abel to join her. “I threw her into a wall. With my head. She got too close and I - I didn’t even mean too. And now I feel like used JELL-O.”

Every single new thing Kaden heard about this incident made him hate it more. “What happened to not getting into trouble?” he grumbled as he waited for her to take a seat next to the dog that was about half her size. A traitor dog that listened to everyone else before him. All he could do was rub his forehead and then run his hands through his hair, letting out a sigh. There was a lot to take in and he was just stressed. This could have been a lot worse. It sounded like it was about to get a lot worse. He shook his head before closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side. “Panic attack. Exorcist. Possession. More telekinesis. Putain.” He sighed and sat in the seat a moment before turning the keys in the ignition. “Used jell-o though? Really?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a trouble thing!” Blanche said, flatly. She wiped her eyes again, focusing on making sure Abel was getting the best kind of pets. Blanche was grateful Kaden had come to get her, even after their argument about Granny the other day. She looked over at Kaden, “Alright. I feel like I ran a marathon. Twice. Or I haven’t slept in three days. And my ankle hurts. And I feel like that sixth sense I have that lets me see dead people has been set fire. Is that better for you? Or can I go back to used jell-o?” Blanche said, slumping in her seat. After a moment, she closed her eyes, settling into the seat before she let out a low sigh. “Thank you. For coming to pick me up. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

He clenched his jaw listening to her. The fact that this kept happening, that people kept letting this happen to her under their lack of fucking supervision, he could feel his blood boiling. “You can be jell-o if you want.” Kaden kept an eye out for her in his peripheral vision as he drove. His knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. He didn’t really understand what exactly happened or who Rebecca was or what was fucking possessing her but he was ready to go find her or the ghost or whatever it fucking was and punch it. He was so sick of seeing people he cared about like this. Just sad. And hurt. Fucking hated it. “Of course I picked you up,” he said simply, eyes still fixed on the road in front of him. He wasn’t sure how to help or make it better but at least Abel was there. Shitty hunting dog; good comfort dog at least. “We’re going to urgent care, by the way.” He wasn’t posing this as a question. That was fucking happening.

“Oh thanks, I’ll try to be the red kind rather than the green,” Blanche muttered. The would-be sarcastic comment lacked fuel, and she was getting too tired to really argue now that she knew she was safe again. It was weird that she felt safe here, with the stupid hunter and his dog, but she was too exhausted to question it. She glanced over at him, tearing up again at his affirmation that he wouldn’t have just left her there. Shit. Don’t make it weird. Blanche sniffed slightly, once again using her sleeves to wipe her eyes, her cheeks raw from the repeated movement. But she let out a groan when he said urgent care. “Do we have too?” Blanche asked, looking at him. “Can’t you just take me home? I’ll ice it and elevate it, I promise and I’ll have my housemate or Nell take me tomorrow. Please?? I just want to go to bed.”

Just when Kaden thought he could go a full day without having to fucking wallow in worry, here she was. She barely sounded like herself. There was no bite or sarcasm behind her words. They were hollow and tired. Seeing her cry like this felt like a kick to the gut. A problem he couldn’t solve. “They’re all sad. So it doesn’t matter.” He sighed at the same time as Abel whose head was settled in her lap. Kaden knew damn well she should go see a doctor. But a quick look over to her and he couldn’t. She looked so exhausted and broken. He didn’t fucking trust her to actually se a doctor but putting her through all the waiting that came with medical care right now felt cruel. “You’d better fucking promise to go see a doctor. Someone who’s not Regan.” He changed direction and started driving towards the mcmurder mansion she lived in.

“Red is significantly less sad than green. Or yellow. Yellow is the worst.” Blanche mumbles, absentmindedly petting Abel on the head. She would have to see a doctor or get Nell’s mom to look at it, but she really could not handle a trip to the emergency room right now. Too many factors, let alone the wait times and the potential dealing with her father when she was like this… Not fucking worth it. “I promise to go see a doctor,” Blanche said, settling up against the car door, head leaning against the window. She wondered if it had been whatever magic she used to throw Rebecca against the wall that made her this tired or if it was the overall lack of sleep. Blanche drove Remmy and others insane about that… “And get 8 hours and all that…” She mumbled something else - something along the lines of Regan having cold doctor hands - before she was out cold, one hand comfortably resting on Abel’s head.

Kaden had no fucking clue what she was talking about anymore. He was pretty sure it didn’t matter, she was nodding off, no doubt about it. It’s fine, they were close to her home by now. He shook his head and pulled up to the driveway. She was mumbling something about getting out by herself and didn’t move. He sighed and stopped the car and went to get her out of the seat. He told Abel to stay in the car and, despite a couple of protesting whines, he listened for once. He had a feeling he’d be helping her inside no matter what but carrying her up the stairs past fucking snakes and spiders wasn’t really what he expected. Thankfully she was conked out enough not to protest, but awake enough to mumble where the hell her (master?) bedroom was. He’d save the questions on her living choices later. Her room looked normal enough and she was safe in her bed. One scribbled note with “Go to the fucking doctor,” later and he closed the door and left to go back to his apartment, maybe finish that walk he promised Abel.

#wickedswriting #writing #chatzy #running if you call my name #blanche #harlowhaunted

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writingamongtheroses-archive · 4 years

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Showtime, Chapter 12

(I finally wrote that vent scene I once told @andiwriteunderthemoon about! Warning for audio violence and there is some Spanish in this. @h-faith-marr-writeblr.)

Liza stared up at the darkness of the vent.

"...are you sure this is the best way?"

"Well, if the door is locked and since none of us know how to pick locks, then, aye. This will be the best option lass."

She turned from the vent to stare at Bun. She raised a brow. "You're a pirate and you don't know how to pick locks?" The bunny nodded. "I thought- oh, never mind." The duo stood in the kitchen, where Bun had taken off the cover of the main vent in the ceiling.

"Ted knows how to pick locks!" Kitty chirped, busy rolling out a circle of pizza dough on the next table.

Liza raised a brow. "Why does he...?"

Instead of answering the question, the cat put aside her rolling pin to join them. She peeked up into the vent. Her face matched Liza's own. "Yuck. Doll told me once that there's a bunch of spiders." Bun knocked her shoulder in a clear warning for the younger. Kitty was quick to backtrack. "But it's not that bad!"

"Yeah, no, I don't think this will work. Sorry girls." Liza turned away, trying to think of another way. "Maybe..."

"Oh sure, Ted! I definitely know Liza's hiding in here!" The sudden boom of Rex's voice just in front of the kitchen doors made her start. "What?! Puppet says we can stuff her? Okay!" A minute later, Rex poked his head in. He was met with the girls' unimpressed stares. "I thought that would get you going."

Liza raised a brow. "...Thanks for that, I guess?" An idea popped into her head. She snapped her fingers. "I got it! I can just unscrew-"

"You say something, Rex?"

That voice made Liza freeze. The sound of footsteps approaching and Rex pulling his head back out forced her into action. She hopped onto the counter, grabbing the vent and yanking herself up. The vent was big enough that she could comfortably turn to try and grab the grate. Kitty and Bun were already shoving it up. She froze when the kitchen door opened and she heard Ted walk in. Bun aimed a look that said only one thing.

Don't move.

Ted raised a brow at the sight of the two holding up the grate of the closed vent. "What are you doing?" he said, one brow raising.

"Um...the cover fell off!" Kitty said quickly. "Bun was just helping me get it secure!"

"Why don't you ask Liza to fix it?" Rex asked, poking his head over Ted's shoulder. The resulting glare from his twin made his ears flatten against his head.

"Has anybody seen Miss Dorado? I saw her come in, but she's not in her office."

"I think the lass might be cleaning. Somewhere. Not here, in this space. In particular." Bun seemed to shrink as everyone stared at her. She immediately stepped back from the grate, assured that it was either steady or Liza could grab it. "C'mon, let's go look for her!"

Liza saw it as the escape it was. When the kitchen doors swung close, she immediately turned and started crawling.

Surprisingly, Liza fit in the vents.

They were built for someone much bigger than her slender build and it was easy to crawl on hands and knees, one hand holding the office flashlight. Her light bobbed in the darkness ahead of her. She nearly missed the gold and had to pause and back up to look at it.

It was a small drawing of Ted's head, done in golden paint. It looked carefully done, despite the mere childish energy it seemed to give off. Liza dismissed it as a weird thing a construction worker had done until she turned a corner to find another drawing. She found two more in different corridors before starting to think it over. The other possibility, besides a random construction worker doing it before the vents were installed, was that someone had spent hours in the vents with a paintbrush and golden paint, carefully sketching Ted out in random places.

"Doll?"

"Hm?" Her voice was lazy in the back of Liza's mind. She shivered- she was never going to get used to that, now that she knew about the ghost.

She aimed the flashlight at the latest Ted drawing she had found. "Did you do these drawings of Ted?"

"Wha- Huh. Oh, yeah, that. Yeah, that was me, back when I was alive."

"Why?"

"To see through them. And they're not Ted, they're Goldie. Of course, you can't tell the difference with the style...why are you in the vents anyway?"

Liza rolled her eyes at the quizzical answer. "Bun and I were trying to break into Mr. Calworth's office, but the door was locked. Bun suggested that I try the vents but the nearest one was in the kitchen." She looked around. "Do you...know where I am?"

"Um...let me see..." The 'Goldie' head lit up in gold. Liza yelped, staring at it in surprise. Now that it was lit up, she noticed something off. The eyes were simply empty sockets, with no sign of pupil or iris to be seen. As soon as the golden glow came, it left. "Take the next right and you should get there in a few feet."

"Thank you."

Liza continued on her way, took the next right, and found a grate a few feet, as Doll had predicted. She adjusted herself to kick it down. There was a loud bang when it hit the floor after a few good hard kicks. She turned off the flashlight and tucked it into the pocket of her overalls. Then she hoisted herself through, wincing when her work boots hit the grate with another clang. That was way too loud.

Now freed from the vents, Liza unlocked the office door. Captain Bun was waiting outside. She couldn't resist giving a little "Ta-da!" Her smile faded when the animatronic let out a noise like she was stifling laughter. "What?"

"Ye got cobwebs in yer hair, lass."

Liza made a face as she undid her braid to run her fingers through it, pulling out the grey strands and wiping them off, redoing it when she was done. Bun chuckled as she turned on the light. The sudden brightness revealed Mr. Calworth's computer, lying open. The two of them stared at it.

"...well, that was easy."

Liza slid into the seat and started poking on the computer. Bun started to carefully look around the desk. She pulled up a few papers, raising a brow. "Lass, I found something about you."

"And I found out why this office was locked. Mr. Calworth doesn't have a password on his work laptop."

"Were ye really in a coma for an entire month?"

Liza nodded, distracted by poking around the desktop. "Yeah. When I woke up, no memories and couldn't understand a single word of English. Oh yeah, also had a lovely phobia of the dark for some reason. This job just keeps stabbing at it- ooh! Found something!"

It was an audio recording, which must've been hooked to the recorder. Liza pressed PLAY.

"Hello, hello!" She blinked in startled surprise- it was the recording guy. Elijah. "Hey, hey, wow. Night six. I know you could do it." His voice sounded strained, unlike the first night. "Hey, listen. I might not be around to send you a message tomorrow-" Loud, familiar banging in the background made Liza pale. Bun had gone still. "It- It's been a rough night. To be honest, I'm kinda glad I recorded my messages. Hey! Do me a favor and call, um..." There was the crinkle of a paper. "Elizabeth Dorado." Liza fell out of her seat, scrambling to her feet to flatten herself against the wall.

"Tell her...tell her I'm sorry I couldn't do better. She'll be confused, but she deserves to be told that. I'm going to try and hold out to do it myself but if I don't, at least she'll know." There was a nervous chuckle before a music box started to play. "Oh no."

There was a hideous, loud screech, and then the recording came to an end.

Liza stared at the computer. "Elijah?" she asked very quietly. She sank into the chair, staring at the recording. "Wha- What happened?" she said, staring at Bun. "What happened to him?"

The rabbit looked away, simply holding out a piece of paper. Liza took it. "Found it while ye were pokin' around, lass." the pirate said. She was clearly avoiding the question, but she took it. "Looks like a list of goods."

Liza took it. Under an official-looking logo, MENTIRA stared at her. "It is." She said, looking it over. "But, this doesn't make sense. This is a list of parts, not equipment." There wasn't even a list of past orders or related equipment.

"What is he doing?" She wondered. There was no answer. "Bun?" She looked up, seeing the rabbit staring at the doorway. Liza glanced at the doorway and froze.

Ted stood there, glaring at Liza. She stiffened, papers slipping from her grip when she recognized the murderous, black pit stare. Like the night before, her mind started to feel detached from her body. Doll- she was almost certain it was Doll doing this- shrunk in place with a hiss, like a cornered cat.

Doll reached out, intent on warning Rebecca to back off. Only...there was nothing. The ghost wasn't the one doing this.

"Lassie."

Liza blinked, suddenly in control again.

"Run."

Ted ran just as Liza did, but Bun was already there to intercept him. “This ain’t the time for one o’ yer malfunctions! Come to yer senses, Captain, before ye something ye'll regret—" Liza resisted a whimper as she sprinted down the hallway. Then she ran into something big, covered in orange and lavender fur.

She couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as she tried to talk to the cat at the same time "Kitty! Kit- Kitty, something's wrong with Ted, he's..." She froze when she saw the open plate, a red light twinkling at her mockingly. Why was her endoskeleton exposed like that? "Malfunctioning."

Kitty turned, revealing the same dark pits as Ted had.

Once again, Liza felt weightless as Doll took hold. The ghost child, just like Ted's, wasn't the one doing this. Her boy-Rex- was scared out of his wits, actually. Doll scrambled to Liza's feet, managing to dodge out of the way when Kitty let out a loud, screechy hiss and swung. Her claws raked across the wall, shredding the paper and sent wall dust scattering into the air.

They took the chance and ran for the office, ducking inside. The Puppet looked up at her knowingly. Doll grabbed the remote and shut both doors with relieving clangs, but it was Liza who collapsed into the office chair.

She grabbed the tablet and furiously scrolled through the cameras. She stopped on the outside hallway's feed. Rex was there, glaring up at her with dark pits of his own. Static disrupted the feed. When it cleared, the hallway was empty.

Something was wrong with the animatronics, the entire restaurant.

And the pieces were starting to come together.

Liza made a distressed noise into her hands, torn between terror and sympathy for them all. She ignored the loud banging that was starting up at her door.

"I'm...Dios. Voy a arreglar esto. De alguna manera."

#heartbeat #heartbeat series #writblr community #writeblr community #writblr #writeblr #wip

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kemetic-dreams · 5 years

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Ibrahima & Abdoulaye Barry Written by Deborah BachAudio by Sara Lerner

How a new alphabet is helping an ancient people write its own future

When they were 10 and 14, brothers Abdoulaye and Ibrahima Barry set out to invent an alphabet for their native language, Fulfulde, which had been spoken by millions of people for centuries but never had its own writing system. While their friends were out playing in the neighborhood, Ibrahima, the older brother, and Abdoulaye would shut themselves in their room in the family’s house in Nzérékoré, Guinea, close their eyes and draw shapes on paper.

When one of them called stop they’d open their eyes, choose the shapes they liked and decide what sound of the language they matched best. Before long, they’d created a writing system that eventually became known as ADLaM.

The brothers couldn’t have known the challenges that lay ahead. They couldn’t have imagined the decades-long journey to bring their writing system into widespread use, one that would eventually lead them to Microsoft. They wouldn’t have dreamed that the script they invented would change lives and open the door to literacy for millions of people around the world.

They didn’t know any of that back in 1989. They were just two kids with a naïve sense of purpose.

“We just wanted people to be able to write correctly in their own language, but we didn’t know what that meant. We didn’t know how much work it would be,” said Abdoulaye Barry, now 39 and living in Portland, Oregon.

“If we knew everything we would have to go through, I don’t think we would have done it.”

ADLaM is an acronym that translates to 'the alphabet that will prevent a people from being lost.'

A new writing system takes shape

The Fulbhe, or Fulani, people were originally nomadic pastoralists who dispersed across West Africa, settling in countries stretching from Sudan to Senegal and along the coast of the Red Sea. More than 40 million people speak Fulfulde — some estimates put the number at between 50 and 60 million — in around 20 African countries. But the Fulbhe people never developed a script for their language, instead using Arabic and sometimes Latin characters to write in their native tongue, also known as Fulani, Pular and Fula. Many sounds in Fulfulde can’t be represented by either alphabet, so Fulfulde speakers improvised as they wrote, with varying results that often led to muddled communications.

The Barry brothers’ father, Isshaga Barry, who knew Arabic, would decipher letters for friends and family who brought them to the house. When he was busy or tired, young Abdoulaye and Ibrahima would help out.

“They were very hard to read, those letters,” Abdoulaye recalled. “People would use the most approximate Arabic sound to represent a sound that doesn’t exist in Arabic. You had to be somebody who knows how to read Arabic letters well and also knows the Fulfulde language to be able to decipher those letters.”

Abdoulaye asked his father why their people didn’t have their own writing system. Isshaga replied that the only alphabet they had was Arabic, and Abdoulaye promised to create one for Fulfulde.

“At a basic level, that’s how the whole idea of ADLaM started,” Abdoulaye said. “We saw that there was a need for something and we thought maybe we could fix it.”

The brothers developed an alphabet with 28 letters and 10 numerals written right to left, later adding six more letters for other African languages and borrowed words. They first taught it to their younger sister, then began teaching people at local markets, asking each student to teach at least three more people. They transcribed books and produced their own handwritten books and pamphlets in ADLaM, focusing on practical topics such as infant care and water filtration.

While attending university in Conakry, Guinea’s capital city, the brothers started a group called Winden Jangen — Fulfulde for “writing and reading” — and continued developing ADLaM. Abdoulaye left Guinea in 2003, moving to Portland with his wife and studying finance. Ibrahima stayed behind, completing a civil engineering degree, and continued working on ADLaM. He wrote more books and started a newspaper, translating news stories from the radio and television from French to Fulfulde. Isshaga, a shopkeeper, photocopied the newspapers and Ibrahima handed them out to Fulbhe people, who were so grateful they sometimes wept.

But not everyone was pleased by the brothers’ work. Some objected to their efforts to spread ADLaM, saying Fulbhe people should learn French, English or Arabic instead. In 2002, military officers raided a Winden Jangen meeting, arrested Ibrahima and imprisoned him for three months. He was not charged with anything or ever told why he was arrested, Abdoulaye said. Undeterred, Ibrahima moved to Portland in 2007 and continued writing books while studying civil engineering and mathematics.

ADLaM, meanwhile, was spreading beyond Guinea. A palm oil dealer, a woman the brothers’ mother knew, was teaching ADLaM to people in Senegal, Gambia and Sierra Leone. A man from Senegal told Ibrahima that after learning ADLaM, he felt so strongly about the need to share what he’d learned that he left his auto repair business behind and went to Nigeria and Ghana to teach others.

“He said, ‘This is changing people’s lives,’” said Ibrahima, now 43. “We realized this is something people want.”

ADLaM comes online

The brothers also understood that to fully tap ADLaM’s potential, they needed to get it onto computers. They made inquiries about getting ADLaM encoded in Unicode, the global computing industry standard for text, but got no response. After working and saving for close to a year, the brothers had enough money to hire a Seattle company to create a keyboard and font for ADLaM. Since their script wasn’t supported by Unicode, they layered it on top of the Arabic alphabet. But without the encoding, any text they typed just came through as random groupings of Arabic letters unless the recipients had the font installed on their computers.

Following that setback, Ibrahima made a fateful decision. Wanting to refine the letters the Seattle font designer developed, which he wasn’t happy with, he enrolled in a calligraphy class at Portland Community College. The instructor, Rebecca Wild, asked students at the start of each course why they were taking her class. Some needed an art credit; others wanted to decorate cakes or become tattoo artists. The explanation from the quiet African man with the French accent stunned Wild.

“It was mind-blowing when I heard the story of why he was doing this,” said Wild, who lives in Port Townsend, Washington. “It’s so remarkable. I think they deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for what they’re doing. What a difference they’ve made on this planet, and they’re these two humble brothers.”

Wild was struck by Ibrahima’s focus and assiduousness in class. “He was always a star student,” she said. “He had this skill set and unending patience. He worked and worked and worked in class on the assignments, but at the same time, he was taking all this stuff he was learning in class back to ADLaM.”

Wild helped Ibrahima get a scholarship to a calligraphy conference at Reed College in Portland, where he met Randall Hasson, a calligraphy artist and painter. Hasson was seated at a table one afternoon, giving a lettering demonstration with another instructor, and Ibrahima came over. A book about African alphabets rested on the table. Ibrahima picked it up, commented that the scripts in the book weren’t the only African alphabets and offhandedly mentioned that he and his brother had invented an alphabet.

Hasson, who has extensively researched ancient alphabets, assumed Ibrahima meant that he and his brother had somehow modified an alphabet.

“I said, ‘You mean you adapted an alphabet?’” Hasson recalled. “I had to ask him three times to be sure he had actually invented one.”

After hearing Ibrahima’s story, Hasson suggested teaming up for a talk on ADLaM at a calligraphy conference in Colorado the following year. The audience sat rapt as Hasson told Ibrahima’s story, giving him a standing ovation as he walked to the stage. During a break earlier in the day, Ibrahima asked Hasson to come and meet a few people. They were four Fulbhe men who had driven almost 1,800 miles from New York just to hear Ibrahima’s talk, hoping it would finally help get ADLaM the connections they sought.

Hasson was so moved after speaking with them that he walked away, sat down in an empty stairwell and cried.

“At that moment,” he said, “I began to understand how important this talk was to these people.”

Ibrahima made connections at the conference that got him introduced to Michael Everson, one of the editors of the Unicode Standard. It was the break the brothers needed. With help from Everson, Ibrahima and Abdoulaye put together a proposal for ADLaM to be added to Unicode.

Andrew Glass is a senior program manager at Microsoft who works on font and keyboard technology and provides expertise to the Unicode Technical Committee. The ADLaM proposal and the Barry brothers’ pending visit to the Unicode Consortium generated much interest and excitement among Glass and other committee members, most of whom have linguistics backgrounds. Glass’s graduate studies focused on writing systems that are around 2,000 years old, and like other linguists he uses a methodological, technical approach to analyze and understand writing systems.

But here were two brothers with no training in linguistics, who developed an alphabet through a natural, organic approach — and when they were children, no less. New writing systems aren’t created very often, and the chance to actually talk with the inventors of one was rare.

“You come across things in these old writing systems and you wonder why it’s the way it is, and there’s nobody to ask,” Glass said. “This was a unique opportunity to say, ‘Why is it like this? Did they think about doing things differently? Why are the letters ordered this way?’ and things like that.”

Microsoft worked with designers to develop a font for Windows and Office called Ebrima that supports ADLaM and several other African writing systems.

It was during the Unicode process that ADLaM got its new name. The brothers originally called their alphabet Bindi Pular, meaning “Pular script,” but had always wanted a more meaningful name. Some people in Guinea who’d been teaching the script suggested ADLaM, an acronym using the first four letters of the script for a phrase that translates to “the alphabet that will prevent a people from being lost.” The Unicode Technical Committee approved ADLaM in 2014 and the alphabet was included in Unicode 9.0, released in June 2016. The brothers were elated.

“It was very exciting for us,” Abdoulaye said. “Once we got encoded, we thought, ‘This is it.’”

But they soon realized there were other, possibly even more challenging hurdles ahead. For ADLaM to be usable on computers, it had to be supported on desktop and mobile operating systems, and with fonts and keyboards. To make it broadly accessible, it also needed to be integrated on social networking sites.

The brothers’ script found a champion in Glass, who had developed Windows keyboards for several languages and worked on supporting various writing systems in Microsoft technology. Glass told others at Microsoft about ADLaM and helped connect the Barry brothers to the right people at the company. He developed keyboard layouts for ADLaM, initially as a project during Microsoft’s annual companywide employee hackathon.

Judy Safran-Aasen, a program manager for Microsoft’s Windows design group, also saw the importance of incorporating ADLaM into Microsoft products. Safran-Aasen wrote a business plan for adding ADLaM to Windows and pushed the work forward with various Microsoft teams.

“It was a shoestring collaboration of a few people who were really interested in seeing this happen,” she said. “It’s a powerful human interest story, and if you tell the story you can get people onboard.

“This is going to have an impact on literacy throughout that community and enable people to be part of the Windows ecosystem, where before that just wasn’t available to them,” Safran-Aasen said. “I’m really excited that we can make this happen.”

ADLaM creators Ibrahima and Abdoulaye Barry in Portland, Oregon.

Microsoft worked with two type designers in Maine, Mark Jamra and Neil Patel, to develop an ADLaM component for Windows and Office within Microsoft’s existing Ebrima font, which also supports other African writing systems. ADLaM support is included in the Windows 10 May 2019 update, allowing users to type and see ADLaM in Windows, including in Word and other Office apps.

Microsoft’s support for ADLaM, Abdoulaye said, “is going to be a huge jump for us.”

ADLaM is also supported by the Kigelia typeface system developed by Jamra and Patel, which includes eight African scripts and is being added to Office later this year. The designers wanted to create a type system for a region of the world lacking in typeface development, where they say existing fonts tend to be oversimplified and poorly researched. They consulted extensively with Ibrahima and Abdoulaye to refine ADLaM’s forms, painstakingly working to execute on the brothers’ vision within the boundaries of font technology.

“This was their life’s work that they started when they were kids,” Patel said. “To get it right is a big deal.”

And to many Africans, Jamra said, a script is more than just an alphabet. ”These writing systems are cultural icons,” he said. “It’s not like the Latin script. They really are symbols of ethnic identity for many of these communities.”

They’re also a means of preserving and advancing a culture. Without a writing system it’s difficult for people to record their history, to share perspective and knowledge across generations, even to engage in the basic communications that facilitate commerce and daily activities. There is greater interest in recent years in establishing writing systems for languages that didn’t have them, Glass said, to help ensure those languages remain relevant and don’t disappear. He pointed to the Osage script, created by an elder in 2006 to preserve and revitalize the language, as an example.

“There is a big push among language communities to develop writing systems,” Glass said. “And when they get them, they are such a powerful tool to put identity around that community, and also empower that community to learn and become educated.

“I think ADLaM has tremendous potential to change circumstances and improve people’s lives. That’s one of the things that’s really exciting about this.”

Keeping a culture alive

Ibrahima and Abdoulaye don’t know how many people around the world have learned ADLaM. It could be hundreds of thousands, maybe more. As many as 24 countries have been represented at ADLaM’s annual conference in Guinea, and there are ADLaM learning centers in Africa, Europe and the U.S. On a recent trip to Brussels, Ibrahima discovered that four learning centers had opened there and others have started in the Netherlands.

“I was really surprised. I couldn’t imagine that ADLaM has reached so many people outside of Africa,” he said.

Abdoulaye “Bobody” Barry (no relation to ADLaM’s creator) lives in Harlem, New York and is part of Winden Jangen, now a nonprofit organization based in New York City. He learned ADLaM a decade ago and has taught it to hundreds of people, first at mosques and then through messaging applications using an Android app. The script has enabled Fulbhe people, many of whom never learned to read and write in English or French, to connect around the world and has fostered a sense of sense of cultural pride, Barry said.

“This is part of our blood. It came from our culture,” he said. “This is not from the French people or the Arabic people. This is ours. This is our culture. That’s why people get so excited.”

Suwadu Jallow emigrated to the U.S. from Gambia in 2012 and took an ADLaM class the Barry brothers taught at Portland Community College. ADLaM is easy for Fulfulde speakers to learn, she said, and will help sustain the language, particularly among the African diaspora.

“Now I can teach this language to someone and have the sense of my tribe being here for years and years to come without the language dying off,” said Jallow, who lives in Seattle. “Having this writing system, you can teach kids how to speak (Fulfulde) just like you teach them to speak English. It will help preserve the language and let people be creative and innovative.”

Jallow is pursuing a master’s in accounting at the University of Washington and hopes to develop an inventory-tracking system in ADLaM after she graduates. She got the idea after helping out in her mother’s baby clothing shop in Gambia as a child and seeing that her mother, who understood little English and Arabic, could not properly record and track expenses. ADLaM, she said, can empower people like her mother who are fluent in Fulfulde and just need a way to write it.

“It’s going to increase literacy,” she said. “I believe knowledge is power, and if you’re able to read and write, that’s a very powerful tool to have. You can do a lot of things that you weren’t able to do.”

The Fulbhe people in Guinea historically produced a considerable volume of books and manuscripts, Abdoulaye Barry said, using Arabic to write in their language. Most households traditionally had a handwritten personal book detailing the family’s ancestry and the history of the Fulbhe people. But the books weren’t shared outside the home, and Fulbhe people largely stopped writing during French colonization, when the government mandated teaching in French and the use of Arabic was limited primarily to learning the Koran.

“Everything else was basically discounted and no longer had the value that it had before the French came,” Abdoulaye said.

Having ADLaM on phones and computers creates infinite possibilities — Fulbhe people around the world will be able to text each other, surf the internet, produce written materials in their own language. But even before ADLaM’s entry into the digital world, Fulfulde speakers in numerous countries have been using the script to write books. Ibrahima mentions a man in Guinea who never went to school and has written more than 30 books in ADLaM, and a high school girl, also in Guinea, who wrote a book about geography and another about how to succeed on exams. The president of Winden Jangen, Abdoulaye Barry (also no relation to Ibrahima’s brother), said many older Fulbhe people who weren’t formally educated are now writing about Fulbhe history and traditions.

“Now, everybody can read that and understand the culture,” he said. “The only way to keep a culture alive is if you read and write in your own language.”

‘The kids are the future’

Though ADLaM has spread over several continents, Ibrahima and Abdoulaye aren’t slowing down their work. Both spend much of their spare time promoting the script, traveling to conferences and continuing to write. Ibrahima, who sleeps a maximum of four hours a night, recently finished the first book of ADLaM grammar and hopes to build a learning academy in Guinea.

On a chilly recent day in Abdoulaye’s home in Portland, the brothers offer tea and patiently answer questions about ADLaM. They are unfailingly gracious, gamely agreeing to drive to a scenic spot on the Willamette River for photos after a long day of talking. They’re also quick to deflect praise for what they have accomplished. Ibrahima, who sometimes wakes up to hundreds of email and text messages from grateful ADLaM learners, said simply that he’s “very happy” with how the script has progressed. For his brother, the response to ADLaM can be overwhelming.

Having this writing system, you can teach kids how to speak Fulani just like you teach them to speak English. It will help preserve the language and let people be creative and innovative.

“It’s very emotional sometimes,” Abdoulaye said. “I feel like people are grateful beyond what we deserve.”

The brothers want ADLaM to be a tool for combating illiteracy, one as lasting and important to their people as the world’s most well-known alphabets are to cultures that use them. They have a particular goal of ADLaM being used to educate African women, who they said are more impacted by illiteracy than men and are typically the parent who teaches children to read.

“If we educate women we can help a lot of people in the community, because they are the foundation of our community,” Abdoulaye said. “I think ADLaM is the best way to educate people because they don’t need to learn a whole new language that’s only used at school. If we switched to this, it would make education a lot easier.”

That hasn’t happened yet, but ADLaM has fostered a grassroots learning movement fueled largely through social media. There are several ADLaM pages on Facebook, and groups with hundreds of members are learning together on messaging apps. Abdoulaye said he and Ibrahima used to hear mostly about adults learning ADLaM, but increasingly it’s now children. Those children will grow up with ADLaM, using the script Abdoulaye and Ibrahima invented all those years ago in their bedroom.

“That makes us believe ADLaM is going to live,” Abdoulaye said. “It’s now settled into the community because it’s in the kids, and the kids are the future.”

Originally published on 7/29/2019 / Photos by Brian Smale / © Microsoft

#fulani #african writing #african writing systems #abdoulaye #adlam #kemetic dreams

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cursed-ice-spirits · 5 years

Text

Rebecca’s First Year: Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Scheme

Prev: Chapter 4

First: Chapter 1

Next: Chapter 6

“Nothin’?! But yeh coulda died in there — if Diego hadn’t gotten me like he did, I dunno what would happen!”

“Drop it, Hagrid — I don’t care anymore. I’m done with this school.”

“What the bloody hell happened to you?!”

A shout pulled her out of her thoughts as she stepped inside the Common Room. Jane was on her like a hawk. Hands on her hips and eyes narrowed, it was the last thing Rebecca wanted to see after being attacked by a Devil’s Snare.

And great, everyone’s attention is on her too, marvelous.

She doesn’t fault them for thinking that. She’s a mess, her robes were all ripped up, and her hair was messy. But she also likes to not be stared at. Heavens knows she needs to knock out after this. Again.

Jane frowned at her when she didn’t answer. “I thought you were going to get a witness — you looked as though you’ve been run over with a truck!”

“I’ve been attacked by the devil,” Rebecca said dryly. In the corner of her eye, she spots the boy that was with Hagrid when she got out of the closet. Back then, she was too preoccupied with… something else but… now she’s worried if he babbled about what happened to her but with how her housemates are looking at her, she doubts that.

She’s somewhat grateful. Without a doubt, they’ll mock her for being weak and tell her that she deserves it. She doesn’t need that.

“Wow,” she hears Meadows whisper. “No wonder the rumors say she’s mad. She is mad.”

Rebecca’s eye twitched.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Don’t punch her.

She feels her eyes burn with tears but she stands her ground.

She will not cry. Not now. Not in front of them. It’s weak. They’ll laugh and mock her for being weak weak weak—

“I’m not mad,” she finds herself snapping. The stares — she can’t fucking handle it!! “There’s something called sarcasm, moron. Maybe you should learn what it is before calling me mad. Or, better yet, learn to think before you speak. Maybe you’ll be quieter.”

To her delight, Meadows flushes and she opens her mouth to respond, but Rebecca cuts across her.

“Just leave me alone. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Rebecca turned on her heel and stormed up the stairs, ignoring any calls of her name.

Chiara was already there when she arrives. She takes one look at Rebecca’s ruined robes and opens the brunette’s trunk, taking out one of her robes and holding it out to her with a smile.

“You look like you need this,” she says.

Thank you, Chiara.

You are the only person I like so far.

“Thank you,” Rebecca mutters as she takes the robe and pulls off her ruined one, replacing it with the new one.

“You’re welcome. The least I can do.” Footsteps approached her and a hand was placed on her shoulder, making her stiffen. “If you need anything, you’re free to go to me.”

Rebecca pursed her lips and peeled her shoulder away. “I’ll think about it.”

She turned her back and quickly left the dorm again, racing out of the Common Room before she can be stopped and be pushed around. She can tell, the moment she was back down, a third-year was opening his mouth, a sneer on his face before she yanked the door open and rushed out.

—————

“Hey, Loner Lordy! Out of the closet?”

FUCK.

Rebecca didn’t turn around and just sped up…

And proceeded to crash into a solid wall.

“Son of a--” she swore as she stumbled back. A hand grabbed her shoulder firmly and stopped her from falling and she blinked, raising her eyes.

Turns out the wall wasn’t a wall. It was a very familiar Gryffindor with red hair.

Bill Weasley.

Bill frowned down at her and placed his hand on her other shoulder, straightening her up. “You seem like you’re in a hurry.”

Rebecca glanced nervously at his hands and then back over her shoulder. “Yeah, that’s a bit of an understatement.”

“I got you now L—oh, uh, Weasley!” Lockwood began, only to skip to a stop when he saw Bill. “Uh, hey! How are you, man?”

“Samuel,” Bill greeted even as he pushed Rebecca slightly behind him. “I’m doing good. Are you bothering Rebecca by any chance?”

Lockwood glanced nervously at her. “Uh, no! We’re buds, best buds! I just wanna talk to her, is all. Right L— Rebecca?”

Is he really that stupid to think I’ll play along? Rebecca raised her eyebrow. “You called me the equivalent of a slut.”

She started when Bill’s face darkened with a scowl, even as he growled out. “Samuel—“

“It was just playing around!” Lockwood protested sweating profusely. “I didn’t mean it, really—“

“Calling me a slur wasn’t playing around,” She told him, taking great delight in his panicked face. “I was more than a little hurt you know.”

“I think I’ve heard enough,” Bill said sharply, his eyes steel even as he turned on Lockwood and his lackeys. “You should be ashamed of yourselves — name-calling is one thing, throwing around slurs is another! This type of bullying is not tolerated. Go on now! Scram! Or else I’m going to let the head of house know and they’re not going to take this lightly!”

That... was a bit of a surprise. She didn’t expect Bill to defend her. She watches them run off.

Rebecca waited until they were gone to open her mouth, whatever to say thank you or to throw another insult at Lockwood, she didn’t get a chance to. The sounds of clapping prevented her from doing so.

“Well well well,” a slight Spanish accent said in amusement, an accent that struck her as familiar. And apparently, Bill did too because he stiffened and pushed her behind him even more, much to her disgruntlement. “I did not expect you to be so harsh on members of your own house, Weasley.”

It was Veronica. The one who gave her her father’s gift.

“I don’t tolerate bullying, Da Rosa,” Bill said through gritted teeth. It kinda surprised Rebecca, because he seemed chill before Lockwood came around. Seems like he had some buff with Veronica somehow. “You know this.”

“Potato, potahto,” Veronica waved it off, smiling. Rebecca noted interestingly that her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Anyway, I am not here to banter with you, I’m here to speak to Lord. Preferably alone.”

Bill’s eyebrows raised to his hairline. “What? Hell no — why should I trust someone who is an associate of the Black Market of all things?”

Associate of the Black Market? Huh, interesting. Rebecca frowned as she continued to listen, keeping silent.

A spark of irritation comes to life in the other redhead’s dark blue eyes. Veronica squares her shoulders and her accent became more pronounced. “RRRatherrr interrresting of you to say when you jhang arrrount someone who jhas rrrumorrrs cirrrculating jherrr just as much as myself.”

She put her hands behind her head and stared challengingly at Bill. “I am not judging you forrr jhelping jherrr out — Lockwoot is berrry difficult — but… if I dit not know any betterrr, I woult say you arrre a jhypocrrrite.”

It was obvious she was irritated. If she didn’t have an accent before, she has it now.

Oh heavens, Rebecca thought, annoyed as she watched Bill bristle up. She wonders if she has time to escape but Bill’s hand is still on her shoulder so he’ll probably notice if she tries to sneak away.

Guess it’s time to get some popcorn.

Bill’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Hypocrite?!” He crosses his arms, glaring at the shorter girl. “If you’re so innocent, you wouldn’t be such a bully. Sure there are rumors about Rebecca, but at least she doesn’t go around being an arsehole to everyone.”

Kinda true but when you think about all the things she snapped at Meadows, you’ll think otherwise. Then again, that harpy deserved it. Rebecca’s eyes wander to the piece of paper in Veronica’s left hand and she squints at it. Huh, why does that handwriting look so…?

—Bring me a jar of Pickled Slugs from the Potions Storeroom, and I will consider restoring your House Points, Snape.

She blinks and cuts in as Veronica’s wand spits out fiery sparks. “Is that my letter from Snape? Where did you get it?”

Veronica blinked and the sparks disappeared.

That was close. Any later, she would have hexed him.

Veronica glanced at her and her English turned more clear and precise. “Nicked it from Snape of course. Apparently he figured out who forged his signature but all she got was a slap on the wrist.”

“So a Slytherin.”

“Si.” Veronica said. “And this is what I want to talk to you about. I am going to let this go since you are going to need all the help you can get but in the future, I need you to do a little favor for me whatever you ask for information,” she points out. “Does not have to be immediately. I will let you know when I need that favor..”

Bill’s eye twitched. “Don’t do it,” He warned her. “I have no doubt those favors will screw you over.”

She can’t screw me over more than I already am, she thought, but said nothing.

“Depends on what the favor is and it’s not like I won’t be getting information from other sources,” Rebecca said instead, stepping from behind Bill. “Tell me.”

Veronica wasn’t fazed at all by what she requested nor by the reference to other sources. “Very well. I would prefer it if Weasley were not here but…” She gave Bill a side-eye and smirked, a strange glint entering her eyes. “He can stay. It is a bit of a wild ride. The Slytherin who forged Snape’s signature is Merula Synde—“

Rebecca raised an eyebrow and cuts in. “The very same Synde who parades around, bragging about being the greatest witch to have ever come to Hogwarts?”

“Si si,” Veronica nodded. “She struck a deal with one Samuel Lockwood to team up and get rid of you. She was all on board when she finds out you were the one who soaked her in water, indirectly as it is, and formed a plan with Lockwood. They were not the best at being discreet, mind you. They left their plan on the table at the library.”

“Ah, so they’re dumb enough that they have to write the plan down, interesting.”

Veronica snorted. “My thoughts. Anyway, the plan.”

She held up a finger as she continued, and more as she goes. “Step 1) Murray purposely sabotages Synde’s potion and blames it on you. Step 2) Synde forges a letter from Snape telling you to bring him a jar of Pickled Slugs and direct you to what seems like the Potions Storeroom. Step 3) Sanders delivers the letter and gets the gullible Meadows to bring it to you. Step 4) Wait until you get in position, shove you inside, and lock the door. If all fails, wait until you are alone so they can corner you and bring you to position themselves, where you wrestle with a Devil’s Snare.”

Why am I so surprised? Rebecca sighed as she rubbed her face. “And why are they doing this?” She asked tiredly. Bill was silent. For what reason, she didn’t care.

Veronica shrugged. “They think you are a danger to Hogwarts just like your brother, and that none of us will be safe until you are gone.”

Rebecca didn’t have glance up to see that Bill’s face was contorted with rage, turning so red it clashed with his hair. A hand darted out and grabbed his arm before he can run off and give Lockwood and co a piece of his mind.

“Whatever you’re going to do, it’s not worth it,” she said. “I doubt they’re going to do something as drastic as before. Hagrid knows and you know and from what I’ve seen, they’re scared of you, enough that they will be discouraged from doing anything else. They’ll probably settle on simple irritating things, things that I can handle on my own.”

“She’s right, you know,” Veronica said, giving her infamous smirk that never reached her eyes. “You should be focusing on your studies instead of chasing after a few random idiots in your house, which is nothing new.”

“Shut up, Da Rosa,” Bill said, but it has no bite and it didn’t make her smirk fall off. In fact, it just made it widen.

“You know I’m right, Weasley,” Veronica said, still smirking. “Now,” she whips out a folder and brandishes it to Rebecca. “This is all the info I dug up on Snyde and others. You will need it. I am going to let you off for now but the next time you ask for information, I need you to do a favor for me.” She brushed past, purposely bumping her shoulder roughly against Bill’s. “Later.”

“...Is she always like this?” Rebecca asked slowly, looking up at him.

“You have no idea,” Bill grumbled as he rubbed his shoulder and glared after Veronica. “I don’t know why she’s helping you out, but every move she does has ulterior motives. It’ll be best if you watch yourself around her. She can’t be trusted.”

“I will,” she says. It may be a lie, it may not, but she has him convinced.

He smiles and ruffles her hair, making her freeze up. “That’s all I ask. Now, I should be heading back to the common room — my brother is probably worried, but if you need anything, give a shout.”

“Don’t do anything.”

“Who says I’m going to?” He gives her an innocent smile, before leaving. She touches her head slightly and sighs to herself. It’s been a while since she’s been touched without harmful intentions. Sure her mum did but…

Won’t be long before a bad day comes along.

Rebecca shakes her head and fingers through the folder, sharp eyes scanning page after page of her tormentors.

….oh.

How… interesting.

A slow smile spread over her face.

A daughter of two Death Eaters. A son of a crime lord. The other four are otherwise uninteresting but there’s info she can use anyway.

Problem is, how can she use it?

More importantly, where can she plan? Not just her revenge, but her brother’s disappearance and the Cursed Vaults. Maybe even her curse.

She can’t plan her revenge in the common room, Meadows is too nosy and Jane will notice immediately. Not to mention, she doubts Snyde and Lockwood are the first ones to think she’s a danger. Her housemates will probably get on her case.

There has to be something she can plan without anyone disturbing her…

She fingered through the folder again and feels a headache coming through,

Another thing to deal with all alone.

...

She glances over her shoulder, at Bill Weasley’s retreating figure, then to the whispering voices in her head and around her.

Maybe not so alone.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #rebecca lord #hphm mc #jacob's sibling #hphm fanfic #hphm fic #hphm fanfiction #first year #year 1 #samuel lockwood #lilith meadows #jane court #chiara lobosca #bill weasley #veronica da rosa #hhh another chapter I struggled with dsfsdkfsdf

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notbang · 5 years

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r/n + unconventional sleep aid

also on ao3

“I need to see you in my office. Now.”

Rebecca frowns, tucking her phone between her ear and shoulder in order to resume wiping down her countertop. “And good evening to you, too. Also, I don’t work for you anymore. Also, it’s 7 p.m.”

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” Nathaniel concedes. “Good evening, Rebecca—hope you’re well. I need to see you in my office. Now. Please.”

The call is terminated before she has time to come back with a witty rejoinder.

“Ugh, fine,” she says, tossing her washcloth in the direction of the back counter. “I’ll bite.”

She rolls her eyes as she steps into the elevator.

“I know we don’t see each other so much anymore, but dude. You still could’ve mentioned to me at some point that you adopted a baby.”

She’s not entirely sure what she expected from her gruff summons to the Mountaintop office, but Nathaniel with a small child balanced on his hip definitely wasn’t remotely in the zip code of it.

He shoots her a withering look in response. “This isn’t my baby,” he says. “This is your baby, so I’m going to need you to take her.”

Rebecca takes a pointed step backward when he moves towards her, angling his cargo away from his body and very clearly telegraphing his intentions to pass it over.

“Whoa, nuh-uh,” she says, holding up her hands to reject the transfer. “That is not my baby and you know it.”

“You helped make it,” he accuses.

“Hey, Heather carried it around in her Easy-Bake for nine months. If you’re going to play that particular card, you can call her.”

His expression shifts so quickly from pleading to miserable that she has to swallow back a laugh. Apparently resigning himself to his fate, he readjusts his awkward hold and checks his watch with an irritated flick of his wrist.

Rebecca finally steps out of the doorway, crossing the threshold into the office proper. It feels strange, being back here, and the hour and the lighting isn’t making it any easier. She surveys the room—there’s a portable cot half-kicked under Nathaniel’s desk, his phone still face up on the glass where he’d barked at her on speaker. Nothing that provides any real insight into what exactly is going on.

“So how did you get stuck with my strictly-biological offspring, anyway?”

Nathaniel’s body is making intermittent jerking motions that Rebecca isn’t entirely convinced he’s conscious of; when she realises it’s his absent attempt at rocking Hebby, she has to bite back her grin.

“I’m not entirely sure. Darryl rushed out of here—something about his other daughter and an unfortunate incident on the monkey bars—and since I’m the only person around here capable of putting in a little overtime without coercion—”

“The only one without a life,” Rebecca corrects. “Carry on.”

“—somehow, being the last person left in the office was all the babysitting qualifications required.”

“Well, I’m not sure what you need me for. It seems like you’re doing perfectly fine on your own.”

Nathaniel blinks. “You don’t understand. It won’t stop crying.”

“What are you talking about? She hasn’t made a peep the entire time I’ve been here.”

“Because I picked her up,” he says, like it’s an obvious issue. “As soon as I put her back in her little carrier thing, it’ll be back to uncontrollable wailing. She’s a baby—what does she even have to wail about? She’s too young to have problems.” He gestures at his chest with his free hand. “I have problems. They just got rid of the ChargePoint on Azusa. I’m the one that should be uncontrollably wailing.”

“I mean, have you tried again? She seems pretty settled to me.”

In lieu of a response, Nathaniel switches his hold on Hebby to a two-handed, under-arm grip. True to his word, the second she leaves the comfort of the crook of his arm she starts to fuss. By the time he’s depositing her in the tiny bassinet it’s progressed to what Rebecca has to concede is indeed a full-blown wail.

“You know, I spent a lot of time in this office,” Rebecca crouches in front of the carrier to whisper conspiratorially, “and I gotta say. I can relate.”

When she glances back up Nathaniel’s looking at her with something too much like eight months of memories in his eyes and she clears her throat, suddenly oddly grateful to have a baby as a buffer between them to fend them off.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll just…”

She dips to scoop up the wriggling, wauling mass of tear-streaked pink skin, fitting her to her shoulder in a way that feels slightly less unnatural than it did the last time, one hand wrapping around the back of the tiny, curly head on some kind of hesitant autopilot. Hebby gives the illusion of settling for approximately a millisecond before she’s squirming, her cries ascending in pitch until they’re bordering on a scream, arms extended to make uncoordinated grabby hands in Nathaniel’s general direction. More amused than perturbed, Rebecca holds her out towards him.

His smug look fades, and he only resists a moment before reluctantly taking back his charge.

It’s almost comical, the way Hebby claws her way up Nathaniel’s chest, clutching at the fabric of his clothes with frustrated, clenching fingers, as if she’s mad at him for setting her down to begin with, and she wants him to know it. But then she wipes her snotty face on the breast of his jacket and falls quiet, her plump rosy cheek pressed firm against his shoulder.

When she’s not busy being the one terrified at the prospect of caring for an infant, Rebecca supposes she can admit on some objective level that parenthood isn’t as entirely off-putting as she’d like to pretend. Or perhaps objectivity isn’t exactly something she can claim right now, given the treacherous flutter of endearment she’s currently experiencing in the face of another one of her former lovers looking distractingly paternal with a tiny human cradled in their arms.

Between the exhaustion, her ovaries and her overly complicated daddy issues, it’s like she barely stood a chance.

“Wow. The whole Mr Mom look kind of suits you.”

Nathaniel rolls his head away from her, dismissive and embarrassed. “I’m not… Kids aren’t my thing,” he says, clearing his throat.

“Well, neither. But Hebby here says you’re a liar.”

Figures, she thinks, remembering the way Greg had so similarly easily mollified her. Not everything is about the guys, girl, she feels like she’s going to need to caution, just as soon as the kid’s language skills are underway.

“She likes you,” is what she ends up saying aloud, softly, begrudgingly charmed by the chubby hand weakly fisting in Nathaniel’s burgundy tie.

“Well, she definitely didn’t get that from you,” he says, tone vaguely self-deprecating. He must catch something she wasn’t quick enough to conceal in her face because he immediately opens his mouth to backtrack. “I was just—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. Her teeth sink into her lower lip. “Actually, while I’m here, I kind of owe you an apology.”

His eyebrows crease up his forehead. “For what?”

It’s the first time they’ve properly seen each other since her recent spectacular nosedive, outside of tight smiles and lingering looks in the lobby. Now that they’re in an enclosed space together the metaphorical elephant in the room seems to be looming twice as high.

“For the other night. Thank you, for sending me home,” she says, with all the unnerving sincerity she can summon.

Nathaniel looks stricken, sucking in a steadying breath. “Oh. You don’t have to—”

“No, listen. My acting out could have played out so much worse if it weren’t for you and Josh, and I know it’s a low bar to set for basic human decency, but I also know what spiralling Rebecca can be like, and it’s not pretty—she’s kind of a manipulative bitch. You were trying to move on and me turning up on your doorstep was so far outside the realm of okay, Nathaniel—I am so sorry. Honestly.”

“Oh,” he says. “Okay. I appreciate it. Did you…” He trails off, wetting his lips, changing tracks mid-sentence from what she can sense he really wants to ask. “Did you get a good night’s sleep, at least?”

She thinks of the bench outside the outpatient centre, the crick in her back and the stiffness deep in her bones when she woke to Dr Shin shimmering in front of her like some kind of mirage. A lifesaver, coming to buoy her back to shore. “Yes,” she says, consoling herself with the sliver of truth behind the lie. “You saw how much I’d had to drink. Slept like a baby.”

Her gaze slides over the sleepy droop of Hebby’s own eyelids, and she can’t help but think of how much she doesn’t want any of this mess for her.

“Do you ever get sick of apologies?” she wonders out loud. “I kind of keep waiting for everyone to get tired of my broken record. I know I do.”

“I’ve never been big on them until recently,” Nathaniel says, offering her a small smile. “The novelty hasn’t worn off for me yet.”

He moves to lean against the edge of his desk, snapping ramrod straight again when Hebby immediately grizzles her protest. The minute he’s properly upright she makes a contented snuffling sound and he hitches her a bit further up on his chest, hesitating. “Can I just…”

“What?”

“I know you were hurting,” he says, swallowing hard, “when you came to my apartment. I know it wasn’t about me, or even Greg, really. I know that, I do. But I—”

“You want to know if I meant any of what I said,” she finishes for him.

She’s gotten stuck on that a few times, too. She isn’t sure she has a satisfying explanation for either of them.

“I was not in a good place. I felt rejected, and when I feel that way I lash out. And I go looking for that attention elsewhere. So I went to you, because I thought, ‘here’s a sucker that’s chosen me, every single time I’ve given him half the chance’.”

He exhales hard at that. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. Like I said—she’s a bitch. But as for what you’re wondering—the answer’s messy.” She tilts her head at him, giving him a sad smile. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about you.”

His palm is rubbing back and forth across Hebby’s baby blue romper in broad, firm strokes, and if he wasn’t otherwise occupied she imagines he’d be subjecting the back of his neck to the same motion. They’ve spent enough time in the company of each other’s bodies to know their tics and tells.

“I’m starting to realise that life is made up of loose threads, and maybe I need to accept that I can’t untangle all of them. I just gotta let some of them dangle, and kind of catch on things until they fall out.”

He lets out a wry chuckle. “The knots on this one run pretty deep, huh?”

“I’ve got a couple of those,” she admits. “And the stab wounds to show for trying to stitch them back together. Sometimes I feel like I quit because it’s hard, but it’s only because I’m scared of it becoming a different kind of hard, you know?”

She needs to focus on something that isn’t Nathaniel’s imploring face, so she turns her attention to lightly stroking the back of Hebby’s squishy fist, unable to stifle the coo that comes out of her mouth unbidden when five tiny fingers wrap themselves around her pinky on unconscious reflex. The only thing she failed to consider was how much closer she’s brought herself to Nathaniel in the process.

“Hey, look at that—out like a light. You’ve got the magic touch.” She carefully extracts her finger and steps away, crossing her arms and regarding the now-fast asleep Hebecca with amusement. “I think,” she begins, grinning because she knows exactly how much he’s going to hate it, “that maybe, you remind her of Darryl.”

She doesn’t bother to tell him that she only meant it height-wise—the excessively put-upon sigh he makes a show of heaving in her direction is everything she’d hoped for and more.

Rebecca jolts awake to a stimulus she can’t remember, but she thinks it might have been someone calling her name.

She hadn’t meant to doze off, but politely turning away when Nathaniel had started humming self-consciously into the crown of a hiccuping Hebecca’s head had led to stretching out across his leather couch, and stretching out had led to closing her eyes for just a moment, and… well. At least one of them had been lulled into placation by his lullaby.

“No naps,” she mumbles with insistence. “I’m not napping.”

She pulls herself into some approximation of upright against the arm of the couch, and it’s only the motion of it slipping down that draws her attention to Nathaniel’s suit jacket and the way he’s draped it over her shoulders while she was sleeping. Wrapping her fingers around the dark blue wool of the lapel, she tugs it back into position, resisting the heady impulse to inhale.

Its owner is perched on the edge of the desk in front of her, exposed shirtsleeves haphazardly rolled up to his elbows, his face radiating a flattering fusion of exhaustion and warmth, and she has to actively tamp down on the burst of fondness that sets itself free in her chest at the sight of him.

“Hey,” she says, still groggy. “Where’s Hebby?”

“Darryl just left. He said to tell you thank you.”

“Who, me? I barely did anything. Except fall asleep, apparently.” She looks up at him, sheepish. “I’ve started some new medication, and… yeah. Inconvenient side effects.”

“Ah.” He smiles. “Well, I appreciated the moral support. Even if it was entirely lacking. Pleasant dreams?”

“Beat a park bench, that’s for sure.”

Ignoring his funny look and dragging herself to her feet with extreme reluctance, she holds his jacket in front of her like some kind of shield that will help her keep her messy feelings in check. “I guess I should, um…” She gestures towards the door.

“I think about you too,” he blurts out, then runs a hand over his face. “Not… I mean, I do, but that’s not what I’m trying to say. There’s a voice in my head, now, telling me to be better. And it kind of sounds like you.”

A giddy sense of pride effervesces in her bloodstream at that—for all their dysfunction, it’s encouraging to know there was some kind of positive takeaway.

“I’m honoured. Really. And it may not seem like it right now,” she says, nose wrinkling as she gifts him a tiny smile, “but the best part is when the voice doesn’t sound like anyone anymore. It just becomes… you.”

It’s too quiet, too intimate; the lamplight too invitingly low, and she needs to leave before she starts to unspool. She steps closer to him as if she’s moving through liquid, sure to come just short of invading his personal space, and when she presses the jacket back into his hands, she’s careful to not quite let their fingers brush.

“Goodnight, Nathaniel,” she says gently.

She stops herself from letting her gaze linger over her shoulder at him as she leaves.

mini fic prompt meme.

#crazy ex girlfriend #rebecca x nathaniel #hebecca whitefeather #my fic #mini fic prompt meme #catty-words #replies #when i first set out to write this i imagined it would be funnier #but it just ended up gooey #anyway i've been super burnt out on my wips lately and needed to pump out something else #so have at it #set in some kind of post-4x12 pre-4x14 space i guess

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sidehugsnsideblogs · 5 years

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The Happiest Helpmeet #31-Raychel’s Wedding

Hello Everyone! Here we are- The Big Day! My eldest daughter is GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The house was abuzz with excitement the moment we opened our eyes. I was the first awake with terrible morning sickness. This pregnancy has left me feeling so ILL and WORN OUT though I am STILL grateful to be a vessel for new life!

Ray and I spent the morning reminiscing about the early years of our marriage-all the TRIUMPHS and TRIALS! We are so excited for our little girl to be experiencing everything for herself!

As the girls started waking up, they truly realized that this is their last morning all together FOREVER. It was bittersweet listening to them share stories and secrets as they readied themselves for what awaits them.

Raychel has taught Raylene EVERYTHING she knows about FEMININITY! She has taken our muddy little tomboy and painstakingly showed her how to act like a LADY.

Rayanne has always looked up to Raychel as a second mother. It will be hard for her to adjust to Raychel’s absence but at least she’s old enough to understand that this a GOOD TRANSITION and that this is what she should aspire to!

Rayna, now a toddler, doesn’t really understand what’s going on. I do hope she’ll be able to remember the LOVE and JOY that Raychel brought to the house. Right now, she just wants one more airplane ride with her big sister.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Raychel’s departure will be hardest on Rayvin. Not just because Rayvin will be shouldering more responsibility in running the household but because Raychel and Rayvin are BEST FRIENDS. They have been since the day Rayvin was born. Apart from my twins they’re the closest in age and are utterly inseparable. Rayvin has already been looking pouty while Raychel was shopping and wedding planning but she’s been trying to put on a brave face.

Once all the HAPPY TEARS were shed, we began to get ready. The bridesmaids gowns that Raychel chose were too short for my tastes but Rayvin and Raylene looked lovely, albeit a little sluttish. Raychel, of course, looked STUNNING!

Once hair and make-up were finished (it saves money to do it yourself!) We all headed over to the church. Raychel and Travis had the notion to have an OUTDOOR wedding but Ray and I had to put our feet down. We have a church so why not use it????

The guests started streaming into the church for the wedding. It looks like Sadia has an announcement of her own!

Ray opened the ceremony with a speech and a prayer for the couple, just as he had for Ray and Sadia. He asked all to pray for the young couple to CLEAVE unto each other and weather all the STORMS of MATRIMONY.

Unbeknownst to us, Travis was so nervous while getting ready that broke out in HIVES! We had no idea until he sent Rayman to the pharmacy to pick up some Benedryl. That cleared everything right up.

Once the hives subsided Travis walked to the front of the chapel, the bridesmaids filed in after him. In liew of live music the sound system played a DUET that Raychel and Travis recorded together the previous week. SO SWEET. I could not help but cry!

Raymond walked Raychel down the aisle! He was fighting back tears as he gave his BABY GIRL away to ANOTHER MAN! Ray Jr’s wedding was PURE JOY because we gained a daughter but this one was bittersweet because we’re LOSING one of our own!

Travis took her by the hands and launched into his VOWS. He promised to always seek GOD in his decisions, to always ask for Raychel’s input as a partner, to love her even when she cannot love herself and to lead her in good faith.

Raychel promised to JOYFULLY SUBMIT herself to him, now and FOREVER. To raise up his children in a RIGHTEOUS way, and to keep him safe from himself and basic WEAKNESSES of men.

He slid a VERY EXPENSIVE looking ring onto Raychel’s finger and just like that! She became his WIFE and no longer our DAUGHTER! Tears streamed down my face. I’m going to miss my BIGGEST HELPER!

He kissed her hand as he placed the ring, dipping her slightly. I almost swooned! How suave! Raymond and I should take a couple’s vacation this Love Day after the baby is born!

Raychel straightened herself and in a very immodest display, if I do say so myself, pulled her new husband in for a real kiss BY THE WAIST! No wonder their engagement was so short! These lovebirds can’t keep their hands off each other!

The newlywed couple then sprinted into the hall to where their cake was waiting for them. We guests filed out too to watch!

Raychel, already such a TALENTED homemaker, baked her own WEDDING CAKE. A white cake with vanilla buttercream icing, fresh, wild mint and syrup made from the berries in Travis’ garden!

In true Strickmann fashion we quickly added some birthday candles to the cake so we could age up Rayson and send him off to camp with his brothers. Happy Birthday Rayson! We will see you again in a few months!

Then it was time to CUT the CAKE! The last part of the wedding. All the children were sent home to bed. Only teens and up are allowed sugar after 7pm!

Raychel and Travis cut the first slice and shared it. Raychel said she was more worried about poking him in the face with a FORK than she was about having her first KISS! If she knew what ELSE her wedding night could entail I’m sure she’d be most NERVOUS about that!

Raymond and I were VERY careful to GUARD Raychel’s PURITY for the entire time she lived under our roof. She understands the IDEA of marital intimacy but we purposefully kept her (and all our children) in the dark about the LOGISTICS!

But I’m sure they’ll figure it out ;)

Goodnight and Godbless Mr. and Mrs Travis Scott

-Rebecca

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#the happiest helpmeet #fundie sims

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douxreviews · 5 years

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Star Trek: Discovery - ‘Such Sweet Sorrow’ Review

Pike: "Sometimes we know the role we play, sometimes we don't. I'm not sure which is better, to be honest."

By nature I love brevity: A fine piece of build-up. This show has filler, transitional episodes down to a science.

The aptly named 'Such Sweet Sorrow' is filled with goodbyes, framed around the countdown until the big event of the finale. On the one hand, I'm pleased with most of the emotional beats 'Sorrow' hits, and there are a lot of them. On the other, this is almost entirely set-up and build-up, and it gets a little tiresome when you know you'll have to wait a whole week for the resolution.

But, as I said, the emotional scenes are mostly well-realized, so let me unpack them. Probably the most disappointing of them was between Tyler and Burnham. It had to be done, and I expect the show is only passing him off to Michelle Yeoh's Section 31 series, but I continue to be thoroughly underwhelmed by Shazad Latif. I didn't mind him so much in the first season, but all throughout this one he's been delivering poor performance after poor performance, and his character has been of precious little use. I won't miss him here, but I have hope that he'll fare better on the Section 31 series as his interactions with Yeoh's Georgiou are easily the best the character has.

Next in line we have the unfinished, unresolved feel of Stamets and Culber's bumbling goodbye. I very strongly doubt the show is done with their relationship, so I don't believe for a second that it's going to end this way. Their conversation, too, was awkward and cut short, and that leaves the audience feeling that something isn't right, and it's still unsettled. If the show vaults the Disco into the future as it promises to, I expect that either Stamets and Culber will both be aboard, or they will both leave the show together. But their conversation does have value, as the discussion of 'forward motion' seems to be a promise about the series more than it is about the two of them. If the show ends up making the jump to somewhere in the future, that would be a huge step of forward motion. Fans have widely decried Discovery's status as a prequel, and a time jump would certainly at least begrudgingly placate some of them.

One emotional farewell seemed particularly out of place for plot reasons, and this was the surprise visit of Sarek and Amanda. These two have been a large part of the series so far, and it seemed fitting that James Frain and Mia Kirschner be brought back one last time. It's the method of doing this that didn't work. The purpose of the episode's numerous countdown timers is to give the plot a sense of urgency, and that was heightened for most of it by a sense of loneliness. The Disco and the Enterprise are supposed to be without reinforcements and without aid, but the arrival of Sarek and Amanda on a Vulcan ship that then just kind of left completely shattered this. If Sarek and Amanda had time to get there, surely at least a few Vulcan ships could've gotten to that spot. And what about the ship that Georgiou must have used to get there? They said she 'arrived,' but gave absolutely no explanation of how. These kinds of questions are raised by the nature of Sarek and Amanda's farewell, and I wish they had gone with something less in-person for that reason.

I absolutely loved the sequences that involved the larger crew. The first of these, of course, was the touching recording of goodbye messages to everyone's families and friends. It was a nice look into Owosekun and Detmer's lives in particular, to see who they cared most about. The second nice, touching scene was the farewell to Captain Pike. Though he will of course be in the finale, he will almost certainly not be interacting with the Disco crew before they leave for times unknown, so it was good to send him off with the appropriate flair. I thought the scene relied perhaps too heavily on dialogue, but the moment at the end where they all stood as he left the bridge was well-deserved.

Notable by their absences are the departures of Spock and Georgiou. These, of course, are being saved for the second part. Spock must leave because he cannot exit the timeline according to canon, and Georgiou must leave because she will have to head up the Section 31 series. That they're saving these two farewells for later means there is something important planned regarding them, and I certainly hope they will be worth the wait.

Two characters made unexpected appearances here, and I'll be interested to see what happens to them in the finale. First is Reno, who is finally starting to have a role worthy of the fanfare her character received. Reno finishes the episode by staring into the time crystal, seeing all manner of horrible things. I wonder if this is leading up to a sacrifice in the end, or if she will be left broken or insane by the visions of the future. Also making her presence felt is Queen Po, whose existence can be explained by the Short Trek 'Runaway.' Yadira Guevara-Prip is clearly far more comfortable in her role here than she was in 'Runaway,' and I would almost say she is now too comfortable. Po's casual couldn't-care-less attitude is at times refreshing, but at other times it feels off and out of place. She is still on board at the end of the episode because reasons, so I wonder what role she will have to play in the final events of the season.

Oh yeah, and... THE ENTERPRISE! The bridge! The hand grips in the turbolift! The little grate things in the hallway! Useless blinking lights everywhere (courtesy of superfan James Cawley, whose recreation of the TOS sets is something any Trek fan should go see)! I absolutely loved the look of the ship's interior, and I'm very well impressed by the attention to detail and homage to Robert Jeffries' incredible original designs. This fan is happy with it, very much so.

Strange New Worlds:

The ship visited Po's home world of Xahea, but we never went down to the surface. It's now an extremely politically relevant planet, we're told, due to Po's scientific discoveries.

New Life and New Civilizations:

No new species or cultures here, or even any exploration of previous ones. I guess we're down to the plot now, and there isn't any time to explore.

Pensees:

-Rebecca Romijn's Number One makes a very brief appearance in this episode, but I thought she worked better here than she did in 'An Obol for Charon' earlier this season.

-Disco's auto-destruct system uses handprint recognition rather than voice identification and codes.

-The sound design of the Enterprise scenes was great, with classic noises for everything from door whooshes to torpedo fire.

-The teaser for this episode was 13, almost 14 minutes long. That's nearly a third of the episode's runtime!

-Georgiou doesn't like ice cream. Add that to the list of her bad-guy cliches.

-I don't like the way the Captaincy discussion was set aside. Saru's glance at Burnham when he said there were many things to consider made it seem like Burnham will be made Captain over Saru. Please don't actually let that happen, writers. Please?

-Dear Mr. Osunsamni, Please stop spinning. Sincerely, Everyone.

-Further evidence to support the still quite unlikely theory that CBS is planning a series set on Pike's Enterprise: The Enterprise sets, which were built fresh rather than redressed from the Disco bridge; the minor bridge characters on the Enterprise who had distinctive characteristics and were given names despite appearing for less than five minutes.

Quotes:

Georgiou: "I thought there were no bad ideas." Pike: "That's a lie." Cornwell, at the same time: "That's a bad one."

Po: "You look taller in your photos." Burnham: "Thank you?"

Po: "I don't have to listen to any snark. I made it an actual law."

Georgiou: "You flinging yourself into the future like some galactic rubber band with a martyr complex."

4 out of 6 truly bad ideas.

CoramDeo has never painted daisies on a big red rubber ball.

#Star Trek #Star Trek Discovery #Michael Burnham #Christopher Pike #Saru #Spock #Sylvia Tilly #Paul Stamets #Star Trek Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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annaisu · 5 years

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Silent Invasion - Chapter 8

This story was last updated back in 2015, so here’s a quick recap: Ann anxious little SI just woke up in the body of Desmond Miles, with no clue of what in the world was going on. She-turned-he was captured and brought to Abstergo, and put through the Animus. Things have basically gone according to the game so far, and she just finished living through the siege of Masyaf. Now it’s time for her to get up and begin the dance of prisoner and sympathetic captor.

—

I couldn’t move.

Images, thoughts, feelings, emotions, pains – everything was racing through my mind, too quick and chaotic for me to grasp ahold of. All that I could capture was the feeling of hurt, betrayal, agony- I tried to anchor myself in the physical world, but there was only the overwhelming stench of blood and death of battle, the sticky sensation of sweat, the pain of being gutted through-

Agonizingly slowly, I dragged a hand up to my abdomen, feeling the unbroken flesh and fabric beneath my hand as words slowly broke through my haze. “He’s experiencing a far better adoption rate than the other subjects!” That voice didn’t match with what I was feeling, wasn’t the master I had disappointed…

“I’m still pulling him out; he’s been in their way too long.” Another voice, this time too soft for the pain I could feel. Slowly, too slowly, I began to recollect myself. That was Lucy, which meant the other voice must be Vidic… which meant I was just coming out of the animus. God, my head was spinning, and I could still hear the cries of battle…

“No, not yet!” Vidic exclaimed. “We’re still so far from where we need to be!” I needed to wake up to my own skin – no matter how unfamiliar it was, Desmond’s body was still far more real and present than Altaïr’s. I sucked in a slow breath, focusing on my diaphragm, feeling the way my stomach rose and yet didn’t pull against any broken skin.

“We shouldn’t risk it.” Lucy-lu, the angel of reason. We were just starting, and I needed to at least get used to coming out of the Animus and back into my own skin. This was only day one. I could feel my mind starting to settle back into normal, back into my own head, but I still felt vaguely trippy. Like I had just climbed a set of stairs back into my own head and I had reached the landing, only I was still trying to take an extra step that wasn’t there and falling through empty air.

“What’s another hour or two?” Vidic said, a frustrated tone to his voice. He didn’t sound desperate yet, though, so that was good. I wasn’t doing too badly then, otherwise he probably would have sounded worse.

“Why don’t we discuss this in the conference room?” Lucy offered. “Give Desmond a minute to stretch his legs.” I blinked slowly at the sound of ‘my’ name, and the blurry figure above me resolved itself into a stern old man. Ugh. Could that face go back to being blurry, please?

The man turned back towards me, pointedly muttering. “I really don’t see the need-” The screen above me went blank as it turned off, and it slowly started retracting.

“Warren! Please.” Lucy clearly did see the need, and I could hear the clicking of her heels as she walked away.

“Fine,” Vidic added curtly as he began to follow Lucy. I watched his back as the screen was fully retracted and dropped my hand back to my side. I slowly levered myself up into a sitting position, holding a hand up to my forehead as the room seemed to sway. Still, I didn’t have time to waste. I stood up, my legs surprisingly steady, just in time to see Warren walk through the conference room door.

As I walked over to the room, I could see through the glass wall that Lucy was leading Warren into a corner of the room, far from any door. It just so happened that the corner she chose was nearest my bathroom, and had a handy vent just above her that led directly into a room I had easy access to. I paused for a moment by the window, just out of sight, trying to hear anything they were saying. I caught muffled bits of speech, but nothing else, so I pulled back and went through the open door to the side.

I barely paid any attention to the room first room, following the source of the voice, pausing at the door only long enough to give it a quick once over. Lock, cabinet, door to bathroom, camera, exposed piping, bed, desk and chair, all drab and grey. I resumed walking on the tiled floor, noting how their voices were slowly becoming more distinct as I headed to the bathroom. Finally, I reached the sink counter – and the vent connected to the conference room.

I quietly clambered up onto the counter, standing tall and getting my ear as close to the air vent as I could. The air was cold, just like the rest of this sterile facility. The wall was even colder when I braced myself against it, but it was worth it when I could finally hear the two of my prison guards speaking. “I don’t appreciate you questioning my authority in front of the prisoner!” Way to drive the point home, Warren. “There’s a word for that – I believe it’s called insubordination.”

Lucy’s voice was tinny and distorted when she spoke. “And I don’t appreciate you trying to kill him! There’s a word for that too – I believe it’s called stupid.” Lucy sounded so indignant and I had to muffle a snort. Questionable loyalties aside, Lucy was pretty awesome and very quick on the draw. I felt a burst of affection for her warm in my chest, despite knowing what I did.

“Lucy.” Vidic’s voice was sharp, and I couldn’t hide a wince. “This isn’t my decision; I don’t set the deadlines, but I’m smart enough not to challenge them.” Who did make the decisions? Who was the Templar Grandmaster in this time? I couldn’t remember, if I had ever known. “Do you want to end up like Leila?”

I bit my lip as Lucy responded, “I know the accident has everyone on edge.” The accident had been an Apple blowing up one of Abstergo’s facilities, right? That was why they were so desperate to find more apples, and any other First Civ technology.

“Which is why there’s no time to coddle him,” Vidic said. I grimaced, uncomfortable at my position. If this was coddling, I didn’t want to know what Warren’s idea of strenuous pacing was.

“If you push him too hard, he’ll shut down, and then we’ll have nothing.” Oh yeah, I actually did know. It was Animus sessions until you went absolutely insane and started painting the walls with your blood. I let my head rest against the wall for a moment, savoring the support and the cool sensation, before lifting it to listen again.

“We have nothing now!” Thanks, Vidic. I appreciate your ego boost so much, how could I ever feel worthless with you around.

“But we do,” Lucy said, voice suddenly coy and conspiring. She continued on, softly. “We just need to have a little faith.” Dang it, Lucy, how come you have to be so likeable? Seeing her and hearing her in person was so different than watching and listening to cutscenes, so much more real. She seemed so genuine, and I had to wonder how much of this was really her, and how much of this was just playing a role for me to sympathize with and rely on. God, I wish I knew how much of Lucy in the coming days would be real, how much was really her and how much was just a ploy.

“Fine! But I want you thinking of ways to improve his staying power. We can’t afford to stop every time the man breaks a sweat.” Oh for the love of – I had just been stabbed! Give me a freaking break about being a sweaty mess over that. I’d like to see him recover so quickly from betrayal and a gutting – and I wouldn’t mind being on the delivering side of the gutting!

…okay, no, I actually would mind, I admitted to myself. Killing in the animus had already been hard enough, I didn’t want to think about murdering people in real life. Then again, I might be changing my tune about killing Warren after all that he would put me through, and after countless time in the Animus. “Bad enough we already have to trace through these useless memories.” Yeah, no, I was super grateful for the memories Warren deemed worthless, so he could just put up with them for as long as I could drag them out.

“I’ll do what I can,” Lucy promised. With that, their conversation ended, and I slid off the counter. I faux-causally hurried out of the bathroom and back to the main room, trying to be back in there before the two could make it out of the room. I didn’t know how much the cameras caught of me spying on them in the bathroom, but I had to assume Abstergo could see everything and tailor my movements towards that.

How aware should I act? I would try to be as circumspect as possible, but I didn’t want to look completely useless. But then, I didn’t want to be too blatant either – despite having run away for years, Desmond had been trained as an Assassin. Ugh – I needed to stop thinking about the ideal version of what I should do, and focus on what I could actually do instead. I may be in Desmond’s body now, but that didn’t mean I had access to his training or knowhow.

I stayed away from the doors, instead going to inspect the animus servers in the corner. Air was drifting up from the floor in wisps of steam, visible despite it being barely what I would consider ‘room temperature’. The rest of the air was absolutely freezing, no doubt to keep the hordes of computer equipment running at peak efficiency. Good Lord above, was there a lot of electronics. How in the world had Rebecca managed to compress all of this into her relatively tiny workstation in comparison? There was circuitry in the walls and the floor below me, all intended to keep the Animus running at peak proficiency – I assumed, at least, but then what else could it be for?

I felt a presence come up behind me and turned around to see the sullen face of Warren Vidic. “We’re done for today, Mr. Miles.” Lucy passed behind him on the way to her work station as he spoke. “I suggest you return to your room and get some rest.” I snorted quietly as he began walking towards me and the door. Quality rest was certainly not something I expected to be getting tonight.

I eyed him as he approached the wide double doors, not moving any closer, but not moving away either. What were the chances that I could rush past him and fight my way out? I flexed my hand, hearing my knuckled crack quietly. Warren didn’t pause, didn’t even stop to look at me as he continued on his way out. The metal doors slid open automatically with a quiet hiss of hydraulics, and I caught a slight glimpse of people standing guard outside before they slid closed once more.

I grit my teeth and walked over to the exit, knowing it was futile to try, but still wanting to see anything that might help me escape. The doors were solidly shut, and there was no real window to peer through. There was a weird pattern of glass perforating the door in a cross shaped pattern, but it was too small and thing to really see through. There was no visible keypad or anything to signal how the doors were opened for Vidic. I knew that the little glowing pen he carried was basically a password for his computer; was it also keyed into this door? That seemed pretty careless, as it was well within pickpocketing range – once I gained the skill, that was.

Temporarily giving up getting out as a bad job, I turned back towards the main room. Lucy had stayed behind, and she was industriously working at her computer in front of the Animus. Her tapping at the keyboard became louder as I walked over, but she stopped at about the same time as I reached her. She looked down at her tablet for a moment, but then she turned her focus on me.

I didn’t know what I should say, but Lucy only hesitated a moment longer before starting up the conversation. “So, you’re really an assassin?” She asked cautiously “Like Altaïr?” I desperately grasped at my memories of how this conversation was supposed to go – no way this wasn’t an important talk, and I really didn’t want to screw it up.

She was looking up at me expectantly, her face hopeful, yet carefully guarded. It was hard to refuse that face. “Yes and no,” I began slowly, trailing off and focusing on not biting my lip in nervousness. I flexed my hands again instead, and sent out a quick prayer.

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked, seemingly taken off guard by my noncommittal answer.

“Well, I was supposed to be one,” I began slowly. Aaand that was about as far as my memory of this conversation extended. “That’s what my parents were training me to be, before I ran away from the Farm.” Curse it, I was supposed to mention being a teen somewhere in there.

Lucy responded quietly, leadingly. “The Farm?”

I took in a deep breath. I needed to give her enough info that I seemed like a good mark, but not enough that I could possibly endanger any Assassins. “That’s where I grew up, the Farm. It was a small community – kinda like Masyaf, I guess, only less… creepy.” I didn’t get what was so creepy about Masyaf, but I did remember Desmond calling it that. “We all lived out in the middle of nowhere, off of the grid.” Was I doing alright?

Lucy’s calm tone was reassuring, even though it probably shouldn’t be. “Why?”

Why what? Live off the grid? “I didn’t know what was going on back then. I thought my parents were just crazy, constantly on the lookout for attacks that weren’t there. My father was always going on about our enemies, how they were looking for us. He kept telling me to be prepared – but no one ever came. Nothing ever happened.” That felt… far more accurate to the script than I thought I had remembered.

She didn’t look like she understood – or at least, she pretended not to. She had met Bill Miles after all. “Why’d you run away?”

This, I knew. “I could never leave the compound.” I gestured to the room around me, aware of the irony in my present circumstances mirroring Desmond’s past situation. “I was trapped, kept in my father’s little world. Do you know what it’s like being stuck, knowing there’s a whole world full of things you’ll never be able to see?” I looked at her somewhat pleadingly, hoping for understanding.

She didn’t give it. “Don’t you miss your parents?”

I went still, thinking of my own family. My mother, my sister and brother, even my father- “No,” I lied. Damnit. I drew in a breath and centered myself, remembering my own fractured relationship with my father, remembered watching Desmond’s and his father’s interaction, remembered looking for any mention of Desmond’s mom and never actually finding anything. “They had another job that came long before being my parents – being my wardens.”

“It sounds like the only wanted to protect you.” Lucy was very carefully trying not to sound judging, but I still read censure into her words. I turned and took several steps away, keeping Lucy in my sights but not focusing on her.

The walls of my prison were cold and harsh. “Maybe you’re right,” I admitted slowly. “With all of this…” I trailed off and shrugged, not sure how to continue. “I don’t know.”

Finally, Lucy softened again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up the past.”

I turned back to face her properly and tried to offer her a smile. It came out a bit weaker than I intended, but that was alright. “It’s fine. I guess it gives me something to think about tonight – more than whatever the hell went on in that thing.” I nodded towards the Animus.

Lucy smiled in return. “Just don’t think to hard – take a few minutes to rest. Food should be here soon.”

I couldn’t help it – I immediately perked up. “Food?”

Laughing softly, she responded. “Don’t get too excited – it’ll probably just be sandwiches or something else that’s easy to put together and deliver. Go wait over there somewhere; I need to get back to work.” She gestured to the room at large, already turning back to her computer. Moments later, she was typing once more.

I lingered by her side instead, peering over her shoulder to see the screen. I needn’t have bothered – she was flashing through tabs and windows at a ridiculously fast pace, pausing to type in nonsense code, and then lingering over seemingly random images of maps, coordinates, memory fragments, and DNA strands. Lucy didn’t wave me off or impede my view in any way, so I just stood there awkwardly, trying to understand what was going on without interrupting her.

I made sure there was enough distance between us to be less uncomfortable and to make sure we both had our personal bubbles intact, but that made it harder to view the screen. Eventually I gave it up as a bad job, but by that point, I guessed that this might have something to do with the flags that popped up in the Animus? Or at least, part of what she was doing was related. Vidic did ask her to increase my ‘Staying Power’, after all.

It was about then that the exit beeped, opening to let a tray be pushed in, before closing again. It happened far to fast for me to do anything, and I barely caught a glimpse of the hallway outside before my view was cut off once more. Abstergo certainly had no plans to make escape easy for me – at least, not yet.

Though at least they did seem to plan to feed me. I eyed the tray dubiously, but there wasn’t really that much to take in. There was a plate of sandwiches, a carton of milk, and an apple. “Did I go back to being on the free lunch program when I wasn’t looking?” I muttered to myself. The sandwiches were even wrapped up in plastic, with little condiment packets to the side. I ignored the undesired mayo and mustard and left them on the trolley, but took the tray with me as I thought about where to sit.

My first instinct was to just plop down on the stairs elevating the machinery, but then I had a more devious idea. Why sit on the floor when there was a perfectly good chair with a fantastic view? I was only a few feet into my plan to spite Vidic when I finally noticed the two chairs on either side of the Animus. One was clearly for Lucy, being placed right next to her computer – and hadn’t she sat there when the two were first explaining things? – and I decided to claim the other seat as my own.

Lucy looked up as I plopped down, but she quickly returned to her work as I began to eat. I paused only long enough to say a quick, silent grace before I was tearing off the plastic packet. Several minutes passed in relative silence, only the quiet tap-tap-tapping of Lucy’s pen and keyboard and my chewing breaking the quiet. If I concentrated, I could hear the fans gently whirring, pumping out freezing air.

By the time I’d finished my first sandwich – on white bread, ugh – I was finally ready to speak. “So, Lucy,” I began. “I’ve got a question for you.”

She paused her work and looked up with a smile. “Sure.”

“How did Abstergo find me?” I asked. I already knew the answer, but really – it was utterly ridiculous. “I haven’t been anywhere near the assassins in years.”

Lucy didn’t even pause before she started reeling off options. “Did you use your real name?”

The misleading and lying driver’s license that I was still sore over very clearly stated, “Nope. Not before today.”

“Credit cards?” Now that I’d proven I wasn’t a complete moron, Lucy looked a little more invested in the conversation.

Recent receipts said no, even if I hadn’t remembered as much from the game. “Cash only,” I said in a somewhat pleased tone. How did Desmond even manage that, in today’s society?”

“Telephone number?” Lucy rapidly responded , as if reading from a mental list.

I wryly shrugged this suggestion off as well. “No one to call.”

“Driver’s license?” Was her next guess, and I closed my eyes. Yup, there we go.

I let the answer drag out of me. “Motorcycle.” I opened my eyes and looked back at Lucy with a sheepish smile. “Guilty pleasure.”

She nodded, pointed and satisfied. “There’s your answer. Photo, fingerprints.”

“Oh, come on,” I complained disbelievingly. “This is a drug company! What does Abstergo have to do with the DMV?”

The teasing look fell away from Lucy’s face. “Desmond, these guys are everywhere. They-“ She cut herself off, making a slight motion with her head. “I… I’m sorry,” she stuttered, nervously darting her gaze towards one of the numerous cameras recording us before hastily looking back down at her work. “I really can’t talk about it.”

Lucy kept her head ducked down and applied her full focus back onto her work, clearly signaling the end of our conversation. I finished off the last of my meal in complete silence, the food weighing heavy in my stomach. This was going to be my new life now, huh?

As I brought my empty plate back to the cart, I gave the room another lookover. There were cameras freaking everywhere, leaving no square inch unwatched. “Why don’t you go on ahead to bed?” Lucy called out from across the room.

What time even was it? The light outside seemed a little dim but not dark – maybe a bit before dusk? Even if I wasn’t sure of the time, I did know that I was tired, and in far more ways than just one. “…Alright,” I called back. I gave one last look around the main room before heading deeper into my prison cell – I mean, into my bedroom.

As soon as I entered, the door slid shut behind me and locked itself with a beep and a whir. I turned around to see that the light above it was now glowing a soft red, matching the keypad on the nearby wall. “Damn, they locked the door,” I muttered facetiously. Turning back around, I counted at least 2 obvious cameras in my room. Did they record audio as well as visuals?

The bathroom wasn’t any better. One camera was aimed at the sink, and had no doubt caught my earlier eavesdropping. The other… was getting a front row view of the toilet and the shower. Ugh.

Repressing a shiver of revulsion, I began to scan the room in greater detail. A sink with a water glass and towels folded neatly to the side… a toilet with unused toilet paper rolls hung beside it… and an open glass shower, right in prime view of the camera.

“Abstergo really doesn’t understand the concept of privacy, do they?” I bitterly commented. Curse it, I wasn’t comfortable with my new mode of releasing myself, and now I’d have to do it on camera. Talk about performance anxiety.

Trying desperately not to think of all the people who would review these tapes at one time or another, I relieved myself, and instantly tried to forget it ever happened while I went to wash my hands. At least I could do… it… with my back facing the camera, which was something I wouldn’t have been able to do before, as someone of the female persuasion. “What the heck even is my life.”

But it wasn’t my life that was important, now was it? It was Desmond’s, and Altaïr’s, and Ezio’s, and Connor’s – but mostly Desmond’s. I wasn’t anywhere on that list. I felt tears start to well up in the corner of my eyes, and I bowed my head over the sink so that the cameras wouldn’t see.

I was exhausted, emotionally overwhelmed, in physical pain from being knocked out earlier, feeling the phantom ache of a lethal stabbing, and stressed out beyond belief from worry and anxiety. I let the emotions roil through me, not fighting them as they escaped. I don’t know how long I stayed there, painful thoughts and feelings whirring away until I was more exhausted than emotional.

Finally, I wiped my eyes, washed my face, and stood up. I felt drained and wrung out, but I still needed to think. I had somehow managed to make it through this first day, but I still had at least five more that I needed to get through. Or was it six? Groaning, I dragged myself back into the bedroom and plopped down at the desk, pulling the book on it over to me.

I didn’t actually plan on writing anything real down, but desks just made everything feel a bit more productive. I also didn’t want to risk sitting down on the bed and falling asleep before I figured things out. I pulled the three-ring binder properly before me and flipped it open. The book was full of empty pages, and several pens were tucked inside an inner pocket.

I went ahead and pulled out a pen, hovered above the blank page, and… began idly scribbling as I thought. Wobbly, criss-crossing circles formed on the page as I brought my attention to bear.

Was it possible to glean any recollections of the real Desmond’s memories? Futilely I reached back through my mind, struggling to prod up recollections that weren’t mine. I concentrated on whatever I thought he would remember most clearly – the bar, the farm, escaping… and yet all I could get were vague shadows and hints of feelings.

The bar was the most recent, and I had actually been there, so I could even properly picture the place. Desmond had been… content there, if stifled. He enjoyed the freedom it offered, but as time passed, he wanted something… more. More real? More exciting, more lasting, more meaningful? I couldn’t tell.

I discovered even less about the farm. It just made me feel small inside, trapped and berated and weak. I imagined a tall man standing over me, angry and terrifying with it, but I couldn’t tell if that was William Miles or my own father. The escape and what followed was no more clear, and all I could sense was Desmond’s terror and excitement.

Giving up remembering Desmond’s past as a bad job, I flipped to the next empty page. This time, I drew a continuous line, all sharp angles and jagged edges. I would have to rely on my own memories. I grimaced as I focused – my memory wasn’t exactly something I was well known for, except for in very specific scenarios.

I could nearly recite the scene that surrounded Desmond’s awakening in Abstergo nearly word for word, but I couldn’t remember the actual number of days he was in there. I could remember a guard calling out to Altaïr in gratitude, but I couldn’t remember which side of the library the flag would be on. I could remember meeting Shawn and Rebecca, their strong reactions to certain stuff – “This stuff Desmond, oh, this stuff is nothing special really, this stuff is just the stuff that keeps our organization from falling apart, really.” A smile cracked across my face as Shaun’s British tones sarcasmed their way through my mind.

“…sitting in a hospital ward, drooling and chewing on your tongue.” My pencil and smile dropped, and I buried my face in my hands. Damnit. Damn it, damn this, what even was happening with me. I wasn’t actually insane, right? This was real, wasn’t it? Would all this being real even be preferable to being a psychotic mess of a breakdown?

FOCUS.

It didn’t matter.

But the quote from Clay and breakdowns did lead me to another thought – my room, and it’s charming décor. I spun around in my chair, furrowing my brow as I strained to see what wasn’t actually there. I focused above the headboard, knowing what I should see, what I would one day see –

My eyes started to burn and blur, and I gave up for the moment. No eagle vision for me yet. So, what else was there for me to do? A horrible, awful, no good evil thought hit me. Exercise.

I needed to train, to get stronger, to prepare for the future trials ahead of me. And that meant exercising. Grumbling to myself, I scanned the room, trying to find the least observed spot. Nowhere really seemed to stand out, so I decided to just go ahead and work out on the other side of the bed from where I was.

Stretching came first, then body weight exercises, then cooling down. I started out with just my memories of failed exercise programs, but slowly muscle memory and more vague recollections that weren’t my own kicked in. There was no way it was Altaïr’s routine, not with so little time spent in his head yet, so it had to be Desmond’s.

It was easier working out in Desmond’s body than it was in my own. He was stronger, more flexible, and the body responded more quickly than my own sometimes did. He even had muscle memory built up that assisted in my workout, so I guessed that Desmond had kept up at least a little of his fitness regime.

Working out made me more viscerally aware of Desmond’s body. The muscles shifting and moving, each limb stretching and extending, tension ebbing and flowing… It was odd. In my own life, I’d never been really… attached to my body. I had a poor sense of spatial awareness, frequently bumping into walls and objects without realizing I was too close to them, and tripping when I moved to fast. I never felt truly attached to my body, as if my awareness was merely loosely anchored to a physical being under my control.

Maybe that was why it wasn’t so bad being in Desmond’s body? In a horrible way, he almost felt more real than I did. This wasn’t my body originally, but I had been anchored into it quite firmly. I might have been sharing this body with someone else, and other bodies would be projected into my mind, but… this really wasn’t that bad a fit.

Speaking of fitting, now that I was done exercising, I went over to try out the wardrobe. I’d worked up a decent sweat, and I hoped that Abstergo might have provided me with some pjs or something.

Nope. “I can’t even change my clothes.” Instead, I went into the bathroom and used one of the towels to get up as much sweat as I could. I wasn’t taking a shower – I wasn’t that desperate, yet. I went ahead and took off my hoodie, and then after some trepidation, my shirt as well. I looked down to see a flat chest, with a light sprinkling of hair and muscles.

My head spun, and I immediately jerked my gaze back up. Nope, what the hell, that was weird, nope. I shuddered, and the feeling of dysphoria finally hit me. This really wasn’t my body.

Awkwardly and uncomfortably, I used the washcloth and sink to rinse off a little bit. As soon as I could, I slid Desmond’s admittedly kinda gross shirt back on, but I left the sweater off. Instead, I took it with me, and headed to bed.

I slid under the covers on the side of the bed nearest the bathroom, and placed my hoodie on top of the sheets beside me. I didn’t even bother trying to find and turn off the lights after not noticing it earlier – the exhaustion was back and hitting me full force now that I’d given in and laid down.

Earlier, I hadn’t thought I would be able to fall asleep, but within moments

I was out.

#my writing #my stuff #Assassin's Creed #Silent Invasion #Lucy Stillman #I'll add the links tonight #and post it on AO3 and ffnet #but I also need to go back and fix older chapters at least a little bit #the first third of this is actually from at least 2 years ago

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rilesandlucas · 7 years

Text

SAFE|HAND HOLDING|RUCAS WEEK

Day 2 So I'm really quite sick, while my headache has gone down I will write!!! But I hallucinated last night so if this is shit I have an excuse. Riley arrived at school very happy, the sun was shining and it was Spring, so the flowers were blooming. She skipped her way over to her best friend Maya and saw her roll her eyes at her friends happiness. She sighed slamming her locker and was a little confused when there was absolutely no scream from the other Side. She was a little concerned but realising Riley was happy she brushed it off, maybe a staff meeting she thought. 'Hey Riley what's got you so happy.' Maya groaned grabbing her history book. She pulled out her black pencil case, calculator and a book. She hid her phone in between the book and pencil case. Riley trotted over to her locker spinning along the way and opened her locker. She stared at all the pictures of the sunset, some pink and purple, some blue and orange. Riley absolutely adored the sunset, every sunset felt like a message from God that he would protect us in our sleep. She also liked the sunrise but Riley was afraid her happy mood would tarnish if she had to wake up so early. She pulled out her brightly coloured books and her rainbow pencil case. She secured her phone in her locker not wanting to get into any trouble. Once she grabbed her stuff she grabbed Maya's hand and pulled her over to the concrete seat in the middle of the hall. She always wondered why the middle school halls weren't more, fun, but Riley didn't mind at all. She would make her own happiness. 'So let me guess, flowers sunset blah blah.' Maya droned her eyes rolling even more. Riley beamed at the thought of last nights reddened sunset, it scared her a little but the fact that the sun came up in the morning made her happy. 'Yep. Why are you so, uhh bored.' Riley questioned a little scared that Maya would snap her head off. Maya moved a little closer and Riley moved back. Her back hit a body like force and she turned around giving herself whiplash. 'Ow.' She groaned and the figure looked down at her in concern. 'Are you ok ma'am.' The young boy asks in a Texas accent. She laughed a little bit hearing that in real life, it was really quite odd. 'Yeah just a little whiplash. I'm sorry but I don't know you, are you new?' She asked looking at the tall, very pretty boy in front of her. 'Yes huckleberry moved here about 1 week ago or something.' Maya flattened and picked at her nails. 'Sorry about her she's just a little madder than usual I guess, and huckleberry, what .' She asked confused turning to Maya. Maya looked up for her moment and shrugged her shoulders, Texas, breakfast at tiffanys, what a combination. 'So anyway uhh Texas guy. How are you liking New York.' Riley pondered and Lucas laughed holding out his hand. 'It's Lucas.' He spoke still a thick accent peaking through. Riley's smile widened when she thought about his name, Riley and Lucas, it sounded nice. 'I'm Riley. ' she retorted taking his hand in hers and shaking it. Lucas offered her a smile and sat down beside her on the bench. Maya rolled her eyes so hard Riley feared her eyes would fall out. 'And my first week in New York. Well it started off horribly when I missed the subway, but my mum drove me and I ended up earlier. So I sat in the back. My favourite teacher so far has been mr Matthews.' He splattered and Riley raised her eyebrows. 'Oh well mr Matthews is my dad.' She spoke with a little worry in her voice. 'I'm glad you like him. I don't a lot of them time.' She continued honestly and Lucas' smile turned to a frown. 'I know you're just joking Riley but you should love him. Anyone could be gone in an instant. We aren't promised anything.' He ranted and Riley looked down a little saddened at the reality of his speech. 'You're right I'm really sorry. Just teenage, first world problems I guess.' She looked down ashamed. Lucas put her thumb under her chin and lifted it up so she could look at him. 'Hey don't worry. I've just had a passionate feeling all morning. I don't really know what it was.' Lucas contemplated and Riley nodded her head. She completely understood that feeling and today she was feeling extra grateful. 'Yeah we get it. I hate to say this though , but class.' Maya yelled and stood up stomping Over to the door. Riley was instantly confused about why Maya was in a really bad mood, but if she was being honest, she was kind of scared to ask. She shrugged her shoulders at Lucas and skipped her way into class. As they walked in it took Riley quite a while to realise that it wasn't her father that was out the front. She had already got her book and pencil out by the time Maya had snapped her fingers in front of her face. She looked up and saw a young man looking at her suspiciously. 'Are you Miss Matthews.' He asked nervously. Riley nodded a little and he handed her a small green slip. 'You are wanted at the office. Grab your books please.' He quivered and Riley hesitantly picked up her books. She looked back at Maya, Farkle and Lucas who were all looking at her weirdly, expecting an answer. She trotted out of her classroom and saw the office lady in view. She smiled seeing one of her favourite people but stopped when she noticed her sad aura. 'Hello Rebecca what can I do for you.' She beamed and Rebecca flinched a little seeing the bright girl. 'Ummm well miss Matthews I hate to tell you this. But your father. He has been in an accident, he's alive but-' Rebecca continued but Riley had zoned out. Her father, someone she saw just this morning, was being taken away from her. Subconsciously she fell to the ground her hands covering her face. Her body moved in sob movements but nothing was coming out of her eyes, why was nothing coming out of her eyes. She let out a belting scream and lied down on the floor, she just wanted to sleep forever. She felt someone's arms wrap around her and her vision came back a little. 'Lucas. Is that you.' She whispered and she saw him nod. Riley felt her self rise and even though she had just met the guy, her head instinctively moved into his chest. Hot tears finally escaped her eyes and she found her self feeling a little refreshed, she couldn't tell if it was from Lucas or the tears. She could hear Maya and Farkle's voice but her eyes shut closed. She looked into the little lights and drifted off to sleep. Lucas put the sleepy Riley down in the backseat of a lady named Katy's car. He shuffled in next to her and placed her head on his lap. Farkle jumped in the back of the car and smiled at the sleepy Riley and the Texan boy. Lucas and Farkle had become quite close over the past week and from the minute he met him, Farkle knew he would be perfect for Riley. That was a hard thing for Farkle to admit, even though he knew that he was going to have to give them up eventually, he had to make sure it was for the right person. Lights zipped by and Lucas watched the skyline move around as they sped through the streets. He felt the car come to an abrupt stop and he flinched forward slightly. Lucas heard Katy groan in frustration and he peeked his head forward to see what was going on. Instantly he was Met with lots of cars and a line of people. His eyes widened and he couldn't help but be amazed by the hussle and bustle of New York. Not that he lived in the city but he couldn't imagine so many people and cars in one space, if he was honest he was feeling kind of claustrophobic. But not the Santa Claus kind of fear spongebob tricked him to believe. He honestly had thought for about five years that claustrophobic meant afriaid of Santa Claus. So whenever his class was walking and someone would mention they're claustrophobic he'd yell "but it's not even close to December". After he figured out what it really meant he understood why everyone would always laugh at him. He went home that day and told his mum sorry for bagging his outfits. He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a loud honk come from the front. The pretty girl lying on his lap moved a little but didn't wake up. Lucas then snapped his head forward again and looked at the groaning young lady. 'What's wrong mum.' Maya asked fidgety, she seemed desperate to get to the hospital and Lucas couldn't blame her. 'Well we can't get out, and we can't get in. We are well and truly stuck.' Katy yelled slamming her fist on the wheel. Lucas then realised that even though it was fairly annoying, she was just acting on emotion. The anger and sadness of someone being so easily taken away, And even though he wasn't taken away all together. He had come so close, he almost was ripped away, and it was very normal for people to be shocked and saddened by that. Katy winded down her window and stuck her head out of her window. She screamed at the police officers and the protesters that she needed them to move. He cops started walking over to the car, batons in hand and all the protesters starting screaming something about not caring about the ozone layer. Farkle was getting giddy and leaned out the window. He looked at the protesters and pulled up a book. He waved his textbook around at them and laughed rather loudly. 'Biology and I do all other sciences. I probably know more about the ozone layer than all of you people, combined. So move back for backwards let those cars through, let us get to hospital and then continue.' He ranted, for one second it was silent, like they cared. Then they started screening things like nerd, turtle neck guy. The loudness went on for so long Lucas couldn't take it anymore. He delicately placed Riley's head on Farkle's lap and opened his door. He was met with three police officers and he stood in front of them as tall as can be. 'Please sir.' He begged the tall police officer before him. The police officer sighed and moved out of his way. Lucas strutted over to the barrier and put his hand up to all the hippies before hi. 'Hippies. I know all about you, and I respect you. But I have a girl in there that I just met. About 5 minutes ago. And for some reason I care about her, I don't know why, but you guys are supposed to care and want people to be united and love each other. I am empathetic, they are empathetic. Their great friend and dad is in hospital. They don't know what's going to happen. They just know he could be gone and they won't have done anything. That's what is happening to earth. So you out of all people should understand to know what it's like to Almost someone, and when you try to help people move you back. So I say this with all the southern hospitality I can muster. Would you all please take a few steps back, move these barriers back, and let out car get through the to the god damn hospital.' Lucas yelled his voice croaking at the end. Everyone screamed back and somehow, all moved. Lucas cheered and ran back to the car. Katy slammed the accelerator not wanting anyone to second guess and move forward. They continued there speed through the streets and heard people cheering Lucas' name as They drove passed. Maya had her mouth agape as she was in shock for what Lucas just did. Lucas barely even knew Maya and Riley and he was willing to risk himself just for them. She turned slightly and saw Lucas, Riley's head on his lap. She smiled slightly, for the first time all day. Lucas looked up and saw Maya staring at him, he flinched a little and noticed that she was smiling, something he had never seen her do before. He smiled back and saw her about to speak. 'Look huckleberry. I don't do well with new people. Especially guys. Call me misandrist, I do not care. You though, I like you. You can stay around. Farkle.' She yelled and instantly Farkle was sitting up straight. 'Yes ma'am. ' he saluted and Lucas couldn't help but laugh. 'Lucas is Maya approved, and by the looks of it I think he's Riley approved. But that's not hard at all.' Maya praddled as Katy parked the car. Three of them jumped out and Lucas stayed there to help Riley out. He slowly lifted her up and carried her towards the hospital. She groaned a little but barely moved as he carried her to the waiting room. There he saw an older lady that looked similar to Riley, she had ombré hair and a little curly haired boy tucked in her arm. When she saw Riley in his arms she darted up and moved towards her. The curly haired boy smiled tiredly and moved his head over to a boy that not looked a little older than him. 'Riley oh dear. Oh and you must be Lucas. Look I heard what you did Thank you, thank you so much for all you've done. Oh we don't even know you, but we will, we will young boy. Thank you for everything you've done for us already. We will repay you.' She cried wrapping her arms around a sleepy Riley and himself. Lucas couldn't help but tear up as he gently placed Riley on the lounge. 'You don't owe me anything Topanga. I'm so sorry to intrude on your situation. I am happy to leave.' He spoke formally and Topanga grabbed his hands. 'You will stay here with us. Whether you think I'm crazy or not, you are now and forever a part of this family. Whenever you need something you can always come to us.' She choked and Lucas wrapped her up in another hug. Topanga openly cried into his shirt and instantly scolded her self for it. 'Why do you just make people seem so god damn comfortable. ' she joked whacking his chest slightly. Lucas laughed a little and sat down next to Riley. ------------- After an hour or so everyone was practically asleep. Even though it was the middle of the day, they were all so emotionally exhausted. Lucas continued reading the magazine when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked down slightly and saw a puffy eyes Riley looking back up at him. 'New friend Lucas.' She Croaked and Lucas laughed helping her sit up. She pried her eyes open again and sighed still feeling so exhausted. 'Does it get better Lucas. ' she asked her eye tearing up a little bit. Lucas sighed looked down at his lap. 'I don't know Riley. I really don't know. But I've known mr Matthews, what a whole Week and I already know he's a fighter. All I can really tell you is to have hope Riley. You can't fix this, I can't fix this and I think you know this as well. But if we hope, I think someone who can fix this might be listening and they might just help us. Who that is again, I do not know. I've offered you all I know.' He spoke honestly. His hand was at his side scratching his leg. Riley let out a weak smile and looked Lucas in the eye. 'You know one day, you're gonna be a great dad.' She sighed and instantly regretted it. She face palmed her self and Lucas pulled her hand off. 'I hope to be a dad one day.' He whispered and Riley smiled. 'I hope you are too.' 'So how you liking me so far?' Riley joked dashing her hands down her body and fake frowning. 'Well I mean you seem like an awesome, happy girl. What about me?' He asked pulling a pose. 'Well you. Deal really well with drama and have so much compassion it could honestly be your middle name. I mean other than old people not many people would do this. Ditching school, helping a girl you don't know and I heard your speech to that pack of protesters. I mean damn you should be a writer you got an amazing way with words boy. I was basically asleep and I was wanting to move back. Plus I don't know if you've ever spoken with hippies but for someone who wants world peace, they play rough. I mean they do support bunnies though so I can't not like them. I'm just scared of them.' She finished her rant and laughed lightly and looked down. Lucas smiled slightly and thanked her. 'Lucas. I'm really scared. ' she spoke a little quieter. The fear was becoming to much for her to bare and she didn't know what to do. Lucas raised his hand and placed it in hers. She instantly felt warmer and safer from his presence. Hesitantly he pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it. He had never felt something like this before. It was comfort, butterflies, warmth, happiness and love all at once. Just as Riley was about to speak a doctor walked out in scrubs. Everyone seemed to dart awake at that moment and stare at him. He waited for a moment before he uttered those words everyone hoped to hear. 'He's ok.' And Riley knew she was gonna be too. A/n I honestly feel like I have to bullshit so much when I write 3,000 and they end up so long so I apologise for only a little bit of rucas I guess. XXXX a very sick bay.

#rucasficweek2017 #rucas #riley x lucas #riley and lucas #riley matthews #lucasfriar #rucas fanfiction #rucas fanfic #rucas story #rucas oneshot #I can't believe

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writemetohell · 6 years

Text

And We Fight for Roses Too- Chapter 3 (rejected version)

For Katherine, the plan was simple: Go undercover at one of Manhattan’s many illegal sweatshops and write the expose that’ll finally kick start her career as a big time reporter.

The one thing she could’ve never planned for was a certain factory worker by the name of Sarah Jacobs.

“So... what do you think?”

Denton was giving Katherine That Look. That sad, nervous, puppy dog eyes look that asked, ‘You’re not mad at me, right?’. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he was rocking slightly on the balls of his feet, a habit he always fell back into whenever he was nervous. Katherine sighed and rubbed his shoulder affectionately.

“The apartment’s wonderful, Bryan. Really”

And technically, it was. It was certainly a step up from the glove factory. It was clean, for one thing. And it didn’t smell like dust and armpit sweat. Sure, it was small, but not small enough for two adults to live there somewhat comfortably, especially since there were two rooms. Well, technically one doubled as the kitchen, but there were two beds so that she and Denton wouldn’t have to share, and-

It was bizarre, Katherine realized, how much she was defending this shitty tenement apartment in the one of the seedier neighborhoods of Lower Manhattan. It was amazing what a few days in a sweatshop could do to your standard of living.

Her mind was still in a blur. The last three days had been miserably interchangeable; Katherine got up too early, went to bed too late, and in the interim dealt with backbreaking work along with the reserved kindness of Sarah and the aloof silence of the other girls. Payday couldn't come soon enough. And when it did, it was like leaning in for a kiss only to be struck with a slap.

“Forty-five cents! I’ve put in over nearly fifty hours of work for them and all they give me is forty-five lousy cents!”

“Calm down Katie, you’ve been here less than a week.” This was Rachel, of course, rolling her eyes for what must have been the fiftieth time that day. “You started Tuesday, of course they’re not going to pay you the full amount.”

“Not to mention you broke that needle on your first day, they probably took away money for that too.” Rebecca piped in.

“How could I forget.” Katherine mumbled to herself, rubbing her stinging, bandaged fingers.

Her new situation was not helped by the fact she had been squatting at Denton’s apartment since the experiment began. Staying at her own place on Park Avenue would really raise suspicions to a whole other level. But it was still a thirty minute trek to get from his place to the factory, and Katherine knew the girls were going to start talking soon if she didn’t show up with a legit address of her own.

So Denton started apartment hunting for the two of them. Their search had been quick, limiting themselves to places with running water and at least two rooms, and finally settled on a fourth floor residence of an only somewhat shabby tenement building in the center of the Lower East Side. The fact that it seemed to house mostly families there too seemed to comfort Katherine. For a girl who had never been downtown for more than a half hour at a time Katherine clung onto anything for comfort.

By early Friday evening she had almost finished unpacking. Denton was off for the night, covering a late-night politicians’ summit on the current Manhattan water supply. For the first time in what felt like ages, Katherine found herself completely alone; no Bryan, no chatty seamstresses, no creepy foreman. Just her and her thoughts (and the shouts of the people in the streets below). She took a deep breath and exhaled, rubbing her temples as she slid into a nearby chair. Maybe she could sit here for the rest of the night. Or maybe for all entirety. However long it took to make her feel like a real human being again. Eating, bathing, unpacking; all that could come later. She had a good twelve hours until her next shift, it wouldn’t hurt just to sit here and doze…

There was a sharp knock on the door. Katherine jumped out of her seat in surprise, knocking over her chair and banging her head on a light fixture in the process.

"Hello? Is anyone home?”

Crap. More Yiddish. She should have brought a dictionary before coming here.

“I’m your new neighbor, I came to say hello.”

The voice sounded young. And girlish. That was comforting at least. Katherine weighed her options- if she ignored the knocking, her neighbors would only grow suspicious. But if she answered she’d have to deal with a fluent Yiddish speaker, who was probably expecting the same of her. That would also raise suspicions.

The knocking wouldn’t stop. Finally, Katherine made a split-second decision and headed towards the door. She may have been completely unequipped for this situation, but if finishing school taught her anything, it was that rudeness was a lot worse than any language barrier. She was so caught up in her own thoughts, she almost jumped back in surprise when she finally opened the door.

There was Sarah Jacobs, hair free from its bun and flowing down her back, holding a ceramic container to her chest. Her fist was still in mid knock.

“Hello- Katie? What are you doing here?”

Katherine shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. “I... live here.”

“Oh right… I should’ve figured that.”

There was an unsettling pause wherein the two girls stared at each other, unsure of what say next. Sarah ducked her head and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She looked

different with her hair down. Softer, younger. There was a small stream of late afternoon sunlight coming through the one dingy apartment window, and it fell gently onto the side of Sarah’s face. It was a nice effect, Katherine thought. She almost looks like a figure in a renaissance painting….

Katherine quickly shook the thought from her head. She did not need unnecessary emotions like this. Especially now.

“So, um...what do you have there?”

“Oh, this? My mom made it, it’s kugel. She got all excited when she found out someone finally moved into the old Feinstein place. Don’t worry, it’s kosher if you’re strict about those kinds of things. Mom decided it play it safe, cause, I mean, we only do it on holidays, it can get so expensive, you know? But there’s always extra for special occasions and things like that...I’m sorry, am I talking to much?”

Sarah blushed when she got embarrassed. It was very cute.

“Oh, no Sarah, you’re fine. I’m a little startled, I guess. Please, come in.”

Right now their apartment was pretty bare- Denton got two second hand chairs and a small table for the main area. Two cots were shoved into the second room along with an old metal frame washbasin (Katherine did not want to think about how she was going to have a full body bath). A small stove was shoved into the left-hand corner of the main room, the one piece of furniture that came with the apartment. Katherine had only made a few halfhearted attempts to light it. The rest were crates, holding clothes and books.

“Wow, you did a really good job of cleaning this place! It was crazy when the Feinstein’s were living here, they had nine kids, and I’m pretty sure the grandmother was staying with them too before she died.”

Katherine shrugged. “It wasn’t too bad when we moved in. We were mostly cleaning up dust.”

“Is your family nearby? I’d love to meet them.” Sarah put the kugel on the kitchen table and stretched out in one of the chairs.

“It’s just me and my cousin right now.” Think quick Katherine, think quick. “Everyone else...is in Cincinnati. They moved there a couple weeks ago.”

To Katherine’s relief, Sarah only nodded. “Oh yeah, Cincinnati. There’s a lot of work out there. That’s gotta be tough though, leaving you all alone.”

Katherine shrugged. “I like my freedom. And there’s a lot room to breathe when it’s just me and him sharing a space.”

“Ugh, don’t I know that feeling. It’s tough enough trying to fit five people into two rooms. How many siblings do you got?”

“Six.” Godamnit. She was giving herself away more and more every day. Katherine jutted her eyes around the room, trying to think of an excuse to get Sarah to leave. Not that she wanted her to leave. But being around Sarah felt riskier and riskier by the moment. What was it about this girl that made Katherine want to blab her entire life story?

Sarah gave an easy laugh. “Wow, you win. I think people should get some kind of award if you’ve had to deal with over five. I know my mom really wanted a big family for a while, but…that really wasn’t in the cards for us. And honestly, I’m kind of grateful things worked out that way. I can barely deal with two brothers as it is.”

Katherine shrugged. “I think people just adapt to what they’re given. I feel like if I had only two brothers six would be intimidating to me too. Sort of like when I see families of twelve.”

Sarah raised her eyebrow and gave a little grin. “Ooo, that’s very wise of you, Miss Siegel. I’m impressed. Hey, wait-! Is that a Twain?” She pointed to one of Denton’s half opened crates.

Katherine peered over the table. “Oh! Um, I’m not sure. All that stuff’s my cousin’s. He’s, uh…going to night school. Sometimes. When he’s not working. Which he is. Right now.”

Sarah thankfully seemed to be too distracted to hear what Katherine was saying.

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Oh, I guess.” Where’s the harm in that, right?

“Thanks.” Sarah darted over to the crate and began to dig through it. She picked up a Twain volume and began to flip through its pages. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this, it’s so hard to find good books to read these days. Most of the second-hand stuff they sell around here is in Yiddish, and I can only half read that. But Mark Twain, he’s the best! Everyone talks about the ones he wrote with the boys and the whitewashing and stuff, but his travel books are really the best. Especially the ones where he goes Europe.”

Katherine’s interest peaked. “When did you read Twain?”

Sarah didn’t look up from the book. “Back when I was in school. I know he’s written more recent stuff, I just can’t get my hands on it.” She closed the volume and gave a small laugh.

“When David started high school, I tried to convince him to steal some for me. I even bribed him with my allowance. He wouldn’t budge though. Said that stealing was wrong, something about his permanent record.” She rolled her eyes. “As if the school would ever notice if one or two of their paperbacks go missing. Schools have plenty of books, he’d be doing a favor by taking a few of them off their hands.”

It never occurred to Katherine before that Sarah had had a life before the factory. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long were you in school for?”

Sarah gave a small sigh and put the book back in the crate. She walked back over to the table and flopped in the open seat beside Katherine. “I was fourteen. It was inevitable, most of the girls in my class were gone by that point. And there weren’t too many options for high school. There are what, two religious schools? And of course they’re all boys. David actually goes to the next district over for high school. It was…tough for a while, watching him leave every morning.”

She began to trace the outline of the table with her finger. “My parents argued over it a lot. It all came down to money at the end of the day. We needed it, and if was between me and my brother, well…” She gave a small shrug. “My dad gave this whole explanation about men’s colleges and how they wouldn’t accept gaps in education the way a women’s would but… I knew. I knew. So I did lacework with my mom ‘til I got sick of being inside all day, and then got the job at the factory. I honestly thought taking that job would give me more freedom but…yeah. It hasn’t really turned out the way I expected. How old were you when you left?”

The question took Katherine aback. “Oh, me? Um, same as you. I was fourteen too.” Her insides twisted together the moment she told the lie.

Sarah reached across the table and squeezed Katherine’s hand. “It’s tough sometimes, huh? You feel trapped, like you’re stuck doing the same thing every day and it’s never gonna get better.”

Sarah let go and stretched her arms over her head, leaning back in her seat. “Or one day you’ll get married and you’ll be stuck doing the same thing every day, only now with a bunch of kids hanging on your skirts. Makes you wish you were man sometimes, you know?”

“My life would be ten times easier if I were a man.” That came out sounding a lot angrier than Katherine had intended it to. She quickly rescinded in her seat, blushing deeply.

That was the most honest thing she told Sarah all evening.

Sarah leaned forward. “How so?”

“When I see Den- my cousin, I mean, doing something I that I know I could do…. hell, something I know I could do better than he could, I get so bitter. And I don’t mean too, I know I should feel happy for him…but it hurts. I just know if I was a man, I’d be getting the same opportunities as him. Maybe even better. It just…it frustrates me.”

There was a moment of silence between the two girls, where they each wanted to say something but weren’t sure how to begin. The quiet palpitated between them. Then Sarah spoke.

“Wait, your cousin? You said he’s working tonight, right?”

“…Yes?”

“So you’re here all alone?”

Katherine sat up a little straighter. “Oh, well, I guess…”

Sarah jumped out of her seat, almost knocking the chair back. “Why don’t you come eat with my family? We’d be happy to have you!”

“What? Oh no, I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Katie, it’s not a problem at all. Mom always makes extra in case someone visits. Just put your kugel in the ice box and come with me. We live right under you.”

Katherine’s gut gave another twist. “Are you sure?”

“Come one, we’re neighbors now. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

There was a good twenty-five seconds of pure panic that ran through Katherine’s mind as she followed Sarah down the rickety stairs. She was supposed to be keeping a low profile; doing the bare minimum at work, giving out as little information as possible, and in general keep people off her back. A week into the job and she had managed to fail all three of these rules.

Now she was going to meet Sarah’s family. At this rate the whole neighborhood was going to know her face.

“You don’t need to worry about introducing yourself, I’ve already told them all about you. Mom will probably ask how your fingers are doing- Oh! we’ve got extra gauze if you need it!”

The two of them stopped at the second to last door in the hallway, marked by a copper mezuzah tilted sideways on the door frame. Sarah kissed her pointer and index fingers together and held them gently up to the case. Then she pushed through the door, with Katherine following sheepishly behind her.

“Mama, you’ll never guess who our new neighbor is!”

“Sholem Aleichem? President McKinley? I would like clues, please.” The responding voice had a lilt to it that Katherine now recognized as Polish. Almost like Shayna’s. It belonged petite woman stood by the stove, her curly dark blonde hair coiled into a thick braid and positioned into a bun at the nape of her neck. She looked up from the large pot she was stirring.

“Are you the new neighbors? Where’s the rest of you?”

Sarah put a reassuring arm on Katherine’s shoulder. “It’s just Katie, Mama. She’s by herself, I thought she could eat with us tonight.”

Mrs. Jacobs raised an eyebrow. “Katie? The one with the fingers?”

Katherine held up her right hand somewhat apologetically and gave what she hoped was a winning grin. “Uh… That’s me.”

Mrs. Jacobs’ face instantly softened. “Oh, you poor thing! Yes, yes, of course you can eat with us. I’ll add another onion to pot, we’ll need some more water, David-?”

Katherine noticed a teenage boy sitting at the kitchen table. He held a thick textbook in his hand, and two more were towering beside him, fighting for space on the small surface with several long strands of unfinished lacework. He looked up from his book with an expression of half surprise, half pure anxiety.

“Yes Mama?”

“Get some water from the hallway, I need to warm it up so it can be added to the soup.”

David grabbed a bucket that sat at the foot of the stove. He gave a slight nod to Katherine and Sarah as he maneuvered his way around them and several chairs, making his way to the door.

“And say hello to our guest! I raised a gentleman, yes? Act like one please.”

A slight blush crept onto David’s cheeks. He paused and gave another nod to Katherine.

“Hello.”

Katherine tried to give another smile. “Hi, I’m Katie.”

David looked like he was about to respond, then thought better of it and jutted through the door.

Sarah turned to Katherine. “Don’t mind David, he’s just forgotten how to be social. He’s stuck in that goy school all day, reading these tombs.” She gave the textbook stack a hollow knock.

Mrs. Jacobs looked up from the onion she was chopping. “Don’t make fun. Your brother works very hard at school.”

“Yeah, and it’s turning him into a hermit.”

Taking in the Jacobs’ apartment, Katherine realized that they essentially had the same layout as the one she had upstairs. Two rooms, one slightly smaller than the other, and a small stove stationed at the side. But the Jacobs’ place was obviously more lived in; along with the table and several chairs, a neatly made bed sat by the window. Katherine could see a stack of dime novels shoved underneath it, along with a ratty baseball glove and several pairs of worn shoes. Dishes and other kitchenware were stacked above the stove, and a large metal basin was placed covertly beside it. Katherine wondered if they used to take baths. Maybe they’d let her borrow it if she asked…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sarah’s voice

“Where’s Les?”

Mrs. Jacobs was now gathering up the lace pieces and putting them in the hamper. “He’s outside playing. You should probably call him in soon, I don’t want him all worked up at the table.”

Sarah nodded, and went over to the large, four pane window. She climbed onto the bed, getting a chagrined “Sarah!” from David, who had just re-entered the room, and opened the window with a single pull. She leaned out onto the fire escape and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“LES! GET IN HERE! SUPPER’S ON!”

“So much yelling, why is there so much yelling? How did I get blessed with children with such healthy lungs?”

A tall middle-aged man now stood in the doorway. His accent denoted foreigner, but his handlebar mustache and bowler hat were quintessentially American. His fist was grasped tight around a brown paper bag, and he smelled of something strong and distinct. Tobacco? Definitely tobacco.

Mrs. Jacobs gave him a quick peck on the lips as she wiped her hands on her apron. “I was hoping they wouldn’t keep you too late.”

“The foreman let us leave early. Probably wanted to get to the salons as soon as they opened. I swear, he could drink a whole army under a table. Men who drown their problems in liquor don’t realize their problems know how to swim! Remember that, David!”

“I’ll remember, Papa.” David was once again at the table, head absorbed in his book. The man turned to put away hat on a nearby hook and almost bumped into Katherine, who was trying to take up as little space as possible on the right side of the room. Expecting him to be angry, Katherine was shocked when instead he looked pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, hello there. Who are you?”

Sarah was now setting up bowls on the other side of the room “This is Katie, Papa. She just moved into the Feinstein place. We work together.”

Mr. Jacobs reached out his hand. “Katie? Fingers Katie?”

Katherine grinned and gingerly shook it. “The one and only.”

Just then she heard another creak coming from the doorway.

“I’M HOOME!” A little boy now rushed into the apartment, causing the energy to wind up in the small room like a tornado. In one hand he held a stick, and in the other a small ball that seemed to be stitched together with several different cloths. He bounded over to David, giving him a quick noogie on the head, then tossed the items underneath the bed, creating a small thud when the stick hit one of the books.

“Les, we have a guest!” Sarah admonished.

Les stuck out his tongue at his sister and turned to Katherine.

“Hi! I hope you don’t eat too much!”

Mrs. Jacobs shot her son a dangerous look. “Les, be a good neighbor. There’s always enough to go around.”

“But I wanna six feet by the time I’m David’s age, and I can’t do that if someone else is hogging all the food!”

“Don’t worry Les, you’ll always be a shrimp. David sucked up all the height genes, you’ll be lucky if you surpass me.” Sarah ruffled her brother’s head and mouthed ‘I’m Sorry’ to Katherine as she passed.

Les’ eyes widened. “That can’t be true. David, tell her it’s not true!”

David was attempting to fit his textbooks underneath the bed. “You won’t know until you’re older Les. I didn’t start growing until I was thirteen.” He gave the books a final shove and pulled himself up onto his feet. “Anyway, you don’t want to get too tall. Growth spurts are the worst, my pants didn’t fit for three years.” Subconsciously he tugged on one of his pant legs and blushed again.

Satisfied with the answer, Les pointed to his father’s hand. “What do you have in the bag, Papa?”

Mayer grinned and unfolded the top, letting Les peek inside. “Challah. I got one of the last loaves before the bakery closed.”

Mrs. Jacobs beamed. “Isn’t that a surprise…wait, what time is it?”

Mr. Jacobs checked his pocket watch. “Nearly 7:15.”

Mrs. Jacobs peaked out the window. “That means we’ll have sundown in a little while. Why don’t I get the candles out? We can make a full Shabbos meal out of it!”

Her husband shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It’s been, what? Three weeks? Four?”

“We did it last spring when Bubbe came over for Mama’s birthday. And before that it was because the Rubin’s were staying with us when their pipe broke.” Sarah was now placing spoons beside each bowl.

“Well, look! We have a guest tonight! Katie, does your family observe the sabbath?”

Katherine felt the air sucked out of her lungs. All eyes were on her. “Oh… well, not too often…my father’s always working, it’s hard enough to eat together as a family most of the time…” She trailed off, hoping that would suffice.

“All the more reason to do it then! It’s your first night in this building, we should make it special.”

Mrs. Jacobs had a smile that reminded Katherine of when her mother was planning a brunch for the Ladies’ Society; enthusiastic, and ready to hurdle any barrier it took to get to her goal. It was hard to say no to a face like that.

David looked out the window. “If we want to do it we better get set up now. The sun’s getting pretty low.”

Esther put two candlesticks down with a sort of definiteness to it. “See! We’re ready to go! Sarah, put the challah on something nice.”

Sarah shrugged and took a folded up blue cloth from the cabinet. She whispered to Katherine as she passed. “Hope you don’t mind. This is really important to my mom, we don’t get to do it too often.”

“Of course, it’s fine.” Katherine wondered what she had just gotten herself into yet again.

The candles were now lit, and Mrs. Jacobs put a bottle of wine and a thick goblet onto the table. Everyone was standing. Katherine held her breath, unsure of what would happen next and terrified she would get something wrong. This was another test, she could just feel it. The best thing she could do right now was stand back and watch; If she messed anything up, she could excuse it with exhaustion from work. Which was partially true.

Mrs. Jacobs’ eyes were closed, and she moved her hands over the candles in a curved, swaying motion. She then cupped her hands over her eyes and began to sing.

This was a different language. Not Polish, but definitely not Yiddish. It took Katherine a moment to realize she was praying. Sing-praying, now there was a novel concept. She was so enthralled by the action she almost didn’t notice the older woman pouring the wine into the goblet and holding it above the table. She then started another prayer. Everyone’s heads were bowed. The silence seemed to weigh on Katherine like a warm blanket, lulling her into a sense of mental comfort. For the first time all week, Katherine was truly relaxed.

The cup was being passed around, and everyone took a sip from it. Then finally Mrs. Jacobs picked up the challah, which Sarah had placed under the blue napkin. She sang one last prayer, and then ripped off a part of the bread and passed it around in a similar manner to the cup. The family began to sit and Sarah gathered the bowls and started pouring soup into each of them with a ladle.

The silence had broken, and Katherine could feel the energy in the room go back to normal.

“So Katie, Sarah tells me your surname is Siegel. That’s a good German name, we don’t get too many of those around here.” Mr. Jacobs was now passing the filled bowls to his left. Katherine took one and gratefully dug in.

“My father’s actually Austrian.” Shit. Why did she let that spill? How many stupid mistakes could she make in one night?

Mr. Jacobs threw his head back and laughed. “Of course! Austrian! How could I have not guessed?”

“Mayer says he can always tell.” Mrs. Jacobs was grinning. “He says he knew I was from Poland the minute he saw me. He was so, pre- what’s that word David?”

“Presumptuous?” David guessed.

“Yes, that one! I got so mad I told him I was Russian, just so he’d be less smug.”

Katherine laughed. “I’m impressed, most people never guess at all.”

“It’s the German in me, I can’t help it. We’re all born snobs, even us Jews. Maybe even especially us, since we’re usually the ones who get judged first. The smallest assumptions used to bother me as a boy, that we’re all peddlers or that we all work in textiles….”

“Some of us do work in textiles, Papa.”

There was an awkward silence at the table. Mr. Jacobs paused to mop his mustache with his napkin then patted Sarah’s hand reassuringly.

“Only for now. Once Broadwell finally gives me that promotion we’ll be set for the next few years. You can go back to school, and your mother- “

“Can finally sleep in?” Mrs. Jacobs was smiling mischievously.

Everyone laughed and the tension was cleared from the room again.

“Broadwell?" Katherine asked, "the cigar company?”

Mr. Jacobs nodded. “That’s the one. I’ve been working there since Les was born.”

“I'm ten!” Les piped in with a proud grin on his face.

Sarah rolled his eyes. “He’s nine.”

“He’ll be ten in two months.” David supplied as he passed the challah to his mother.

"And becomes a bigger pain every day." Les stuck his tongue at his sister for the second time that night.

"You two, no fighting! We have guest, yes? You need to stop- David, what's that word, with an 'A'? Antag-?" Mrs. Jacobs scrunched up her face in recollection.

"Antagonize?"

"Yes! You two need to stop antagonize each other!"

As the evening winded down, Sarah offered to walk Katherine back to her apartment. Mrs. Jacobs had given her a stiff hug along with the rest of the challah and an invitation to come by soon.

"And if you have no one for the high holiday, please, come and join us. You can go to our synagogue."

Katherine had not expected to receive this much generosity on her first day. She also didn't expect to feel so full. She wished she was a bear; stuffed with vegetable soup and challah and ready to sleep for the next six months. Her eyes were heavy and her head kept bobbing over like a broken toy about to snap.

When the two girls got to the upstairs apartment a dull light was peeking out from under the door. Denton must have gotten back a little while ago.

"Oh no, I forgot to leave a note for Bryan. He must be furious right now." Sarah scrunched up her face. "Bryan? What is it with your family and these goy names?"

Katherine was not ready to tell yet another semi lie tonight. "That's gotta be a question for our folks. Speaking of folks, your family's great. I really felt at home tonight."

Sarah gave a small laugh and brushed her hair back. "We try. My mom means it though. If you ever need anything or want to stop by, just let me know. We always need more girls around here." She gave a quick look over to the door. "Bryan is welcome too, of course."

There was a pause, and the two girls found themselves once again standing in silence, a quiet tension palpitating between them. Katherine wanted to reach out to Sarah. To touch her. To be held by her. To kis-

Before Katherine could think any further Sarah had leaned over and given her a quick peck on the cheek. Then, with a shaky wave, she bounded down the stairs, not looking back behind her.

Katherine walked into the apartment in a daze.

"There you are! I was wondering where you ran off to! I was ready to call the police, Katherine!" Denton's hair was askew, and he looked like he had been pacing the floor for some time.

Katherine barely heard what he said. Her body felt like mush, and her mind was spinning like a runaway carousel.

"Well?" Denton was now standing in front of he, very much the disappointed parent, with his hands on his hips. "Where were you? What were you doing tonight?"

"Denton-" Katherine spoke as if she had just discovered her voice for the first time. "You wouldn't believe it even if I told you."

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megairishrose · 7 years

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Recruited chapter 40: Charity Event

Should Amelia have been surprised she was chosen for the charity event? Yes, given her unfortunate ties to the mob and her distaste to be an upper class lady. Had Blue been scoping her out since her night with Dom, how she had danced her way to getting his phone and all the information? Of course, that night she had a partner…

If Killian Jones was going to be her date, she was done with Bow and Arrow. But she had a feeling he wasn't going to be. Blue had a habit of breaking up family members and couples during trainings. Amelia had never had a workshop with Graham.

Nova brought over a dress in a large box a few days before the event. Amelia suddenly felt very fancy. The dress was beautiful, deep purple with small rhinestones. It went down to her ankles, she did wish it was shorter, but she wasn't calling the shots with this mission.

Blue was completely in control, she always seemed to be. Amelia was not a fan of taking orders. But Blue did have good taste, Amelia had to give her that much. She twisted in front of the mirror a few times, just to see the whole picture.

Amelia walked into the living room. "So, how do I look?" She asked Graham. He was planning on spending a quiet evening alone, with his video games.

"Wow, you look amazing. I wonder who you are getting paired with." He stood up and took her hand, twirled her around.

Right, Amelia had no idea which poor soul was going to be partnered with her. "I hope it's not Jones, he annoys me."

"Doubtful, I think the office is pairing us with people we don't have history with." Graham told her.

"Watch its Cassidy. I swear, Blue is trying to hook us up. You saw how she paired us up and I fell into his arms…

"That was a trust fall exercise. And it seemed to have worked."

"Just watch, Bow and Arrow more than a spy organization, they are also a matchmaking company." Amelia huffed.

Graham had to laugh. "They are not interested in your romantic life. Now turn around, let me put this necklace on you…" He held diamond necklace.

"Graham, where did you get that? Did you steal it?" Amelia sounded horrified. They were out of that line of work.

"No, Blue sent it over with the dress and the shoes. She really wants you to look the part." Graham closed the clasp and turned her around. Amelia really did look the part: beautiful, rich and proper. But he knew better, she was capable and dangerous.

"Thanks, what would I do without you?"

He paused to think. "Go off the deep end and make stupid choices." Graham answered honestly.

Amelia looked at him annoyed. "That was a rhetorical question; you weren't supposed to answer it."

Graham opened his mouth to say something but a knock at the door stopped him. He went to open it and Amelia held her breath. Please be David, or even Jefferson.

On the other side of the door stood Neal Cassidy.

"Hey," He greeted Graham then saw Amelia. "Wow, you look amazing… You ready to do this?"

Amelia nodded. While Neal did clean up well in his tux, it didn't stop her from sending Graham an 'I told you' look.

Her brother just rolled his eyes. "Get out of here, the two of you. Go to your mission, party, whatever Blue is calling this. Amelia, don't do anything stupid."

"Since when have I done anything stupid?" Amelia asked halfway out the door.

"As often as you breathe. You two got your mics hidden?" Amelia pointed to her ear, her hair would cover the tiny device. Neal's was camouflaged thanks to Sidney. "Cassidy, have her back." Graham told Neal after he gave Amelia a kiss on the cheek. He watched them walk down the stairs.

Yes, he had told Amelia he was going to play video games all night, but that was a lie. Ruby had informed him that she had hacked into Bow and Arrow's command room. Now any of the members could remotely access it from anywhere. And Bow and Arrow had hacked into the security cameras at the charity event. He was going to watch Amelia's every move.

What could he say? Graham Hunter was an overprotected older brother.

It was held at a large house or small mansion, however one wanted to look at it. Amelia had to force herself not to stare. She was shockingly grateful for Neal's grip on her hand. Why did fancy things turn her into a little girl longing to be a princess?

"You got your story straight?" Neal asked. They had gone over the notes cards in the car. He was Flynn Wilson, brain surgeon at Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center in Los Angeles. She was Rebecca Wilson, his wife, mother of his two children and president of the PTA at their children's school.

"Wish I had a job." That was the least of her concerns about their cover stories.

"You do have a job, it's the most important one, taking care of our children." Neal said, handing their invite to the woman behind the desk.

"We don't have children." She whispered back, looking around. There was security everywhere, both in uniform and not. Amelia quickly counted at least twenty. And there were security cameras pointed in every direction. Cora Mills certainly did not take chances. That or she had something to hide.

"Speaking of kids, Henry has a field trip to the Bronx Zoo and they need chaperones." Came a voice in Amelia's ear.

Thankfully she and Neal were in the back corner of the coat closet. "Who is the hell is in my ear?"

"It's Emma, sorry for scaring you. I have names of everyone at the event. You can start up a conversation with anyone."

"Thanks Emma. And yes, I'll go with the class to the zoo." Neal answered.

"Thank you so much. Now Neal put on your glasses so I can see what you are seeing." Emma told him. He pulled a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket and pushed them onto his face. "Amelia, you look so pretty. Okay, go mingle and let the mission begin."

They exited the coat closet and entered the giant ballroom. Women in fancy dresses, men in sharp suits. Was there a fairy tale convention in town and they didn't get the memo?

"Wow, the head of every major hospital in the country is here. Cora must really have connections. Or talks very highly of her work." Emma said quietly.

"Who do you want to start talking to first?" Neal asked Amelia.

She looked around the room, there were a lot of stuffy old doctors who looked like they still used leeches. Amelia had to grin. She liked these kinds of missions, out among the people, lying a little bit to get what she needed. Though she would rather do them alone, she found she didn't mind Neal. "That one over there, the conversation he is having is boring him half to death."

Amelia and Neal spent the first hour talking to random doctors. Emma kept whispering names and hospitals into their ears. Fake laughs, fake smiles, fake stories, and the doctors believed every word of it.

Finally, about two hours after they arrived, Cora Mills stowed up. She stood tall on the top step, surveying her guests. Like a queen overlooking her domain. "So sorry to keep you all waiting, there was a breakthrough in the lab. And thanks to your generous contributions, there will be more breakthroughs in the name of science. As you all know, this case is very close to my heart. I lost my father and mother to cancer and now for the past ten years, I have made it my life's mission to rid the world of every form of this terrible disease. Thank you all, I lift my glass to you…" She held a glass and waited as servers brought everyone in the room their own glass. They all raised it to Cora.

"Wait, what if everyone in this room is her newest batch of test subjects?" Neal grabbed Amelia's wrist.

Amelia paused and looked around the room. Poison worked fast and so far no one had fallen over. But they weren't going to take chances, they emptied their glasses into the nearest flower pot.

"I want to thank each of your personally, but being there are so many of you, I only hope I can do it. So please, eat drink, and enjoy yourselves and know that you are changing the world."

Face to face, that was good for Amelia and Neal. They needed answers about Cora and who better to ask but Cora herself.

"No, bad idea. No face to face contact with Cora. Find someone who she might be close to." Emma told them.

The music started up and the doctors felt the need to fill the dance floor. An older man came up to Amelia. "May I have this dance?"

Her eye brow shot up and she opened her mouth to refuse.

"Sorry, sir I already asked her for the first dance." Neal saved her and then held out his hand to her. "Shall we?"

Amelia nodded and allowed Neal to lead her to the dance floor. It was a completely different feeling than the last time she was in this kind of situation.

"Do you even want to dance with that guy?" Neal asked after he spun her and brought her back.

"Not a chance. So we have to avoid Cora all night and find someone else to talk to. That can't be that hard." Amelia said, throwing her arms over Neal's shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"Playing the part. Brilliant doctor, beautiful wife, we have to fool everyone here. You going to play along?" A smile played on her lips. Yes, that was a challenge.

Neal paused, they were on the clock, they were partners. Could this be good; they were just pretending after all. He grinned back and dipped her. He looked down at her then his eyes lifted and saw someone he recognized.

He pulled Amelia back up. "Do you want something to drink?" He asked.

That was a sudden change in mood, it left Amelia confused. "Sure, white wine, I don't have a preference on what kind."

Neal nodded and began walking to the bar. But when he knew he was no longer in Amelia's sight, he left the room.

That was odd, something was off with Neal. Yes, because Amelia could now read him after the few hours they spent together. And she was going to need something stronger than wine.

She saw a second less crowded bar and walked over. Sitting on one of the stools was the same woman who had taken their invites. She staring at the drink in her hand.

"That's not going to drink itself you know." Amelia greeted the woman.

"I'm trying to remember how many of these I have had tonight. And wondering how many more before they cut me off." The woman mused.

"Who dragged you here?" Amelia looked around the room, was she the wife of some doctor?

"My job requires it. I used to be better, I used to be Cora's personal assistant. Then she just fired me…" Now the woman knocked back the drink in her hand.

Amelia couldn't help but be impressed. "What, did you get her coffee order wrong one morning?" Cora's former personal assistant, perfect.

"No, now I get coffee. I used to handle her meetings and phone calls, basically her entire life. Then I misplace one file, one file I tell you, and it's like she wants to rip my heart out."

"That's an overreaction on her part. People make mistakes." Amelia had never been this supportive before.

"What about you? Why are you here?" Where are my manners? I'm Zelena Baum." The woman held out her hand.

"Rebecca Wilson, my husband is a doctor. Honestly, this is the only time I get out. We have four kids at home." Amelia went with their cover story.

"Four munchkins, how have you not torn your hair out yet?" Zelena asked.

"I love them and wouldn't change anything about them." Amelia said.

"Well, I should stop drinking, who knows, I might spill company secrets." Zelena stood up, she only faltered slightly.

"Can't have that." Amelia told her and watched her walk away. "Emma, did you get all that?"

"I did, is Neal with you? He turned off his mic and took his glasses off." Emma sounded annoyed and worried.

"No, he went to get me a drink. I'll find him." Amelia said and walked across the room. In the doorway, she scanned the whole room, Neal was nowhere to be found. So she opened the heavy door and entered the hallway.

"Why are you here?" Neal was in a small room and as soon as the door opened, he asked his question. He knew his father had followed him.

Gold closed the door behind him. "Cora is an old friend; I might have donated some money to her cause."

"You mean the woman we are trying to take down because she is making zombies?"

"She is not making zombies, and if she were, she is ten to fifteen years away from reanimation." Gold explained.

"Ten to fifteen, that's comforting. If you are here, why are Amelia and I here? You clearly have an in to talk to Cora while Blue doesn't want us to make contact with her."

"Because Cora will not tell me everything."

"Can't imagine anyone being open and honest with you. You are barely open and honest with yourself." Neal felt the need to sit down. "Are you with her or us? Or are you playing the double agent?" Gold didn't answer right away. "Dad, you need to tell me, are you going to betray me, again?"

"No, I am with Bow and Arrow, I just have to keep up appearances with Cora. Make sure she does not suspect Blue and the missions we are doing on her. I am the distraction."

"Good, keep it that way. Now I have to get back to work. Hopefully Amelia found something good." Neal stood up and headed to the door.

Gold wanted to ask about Henry, his grandson. But maybe now wasn't the best time. He watched Neal leave the room.

Amelia turned down a hall and almost ran into Neal. "Where were you?"

"Turns out my father is a friend of Cora and the distraction. Did you find anything useful?" Neal asked.

"I hung out with Zelena Baum, Cora's former personal assistant. I think we, or someone can get more information out of her. Wait, what? Your father…?"

"Gold." She was the first person he told that to.

"Gold is your father?" Amelia wasn't sure she was hearing him right. But she pushed the rest of her questions out of her head for the time being. "He is here? Why are we here then?"

"I had the same question…"

"Guys," Emma's voice stopped Neal from talking more. "There's chatter that your invites were fake. Three security guards coming your way. I suggest hiding then running for it. There's a car outside. And Neal, if you ever go dark during a mission again, I'll make sure you stay that way. And when you get off later, we need to talk."

"Sorry Emma." Neal turned to Amelia. "Time for the real mission part." He grabbed her hand and ran down the hallway.

They tried four doors before the fifth one opened. They threw themselves inside and waited.

"What if they come in here?" Neal asked.

Amelia heard footsteps coming closer and instantly she knew what to do. "Kiss me."

"What?" He was completely baffled by her request.

"Now." Amelia grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him close. It certainly wasn't soft but Neal made it that way when he finally responded.

The door opened and Amelia raked her fingers through his hair and threw a leg around his waist.

"Sorry." Came a voice from the door and then it was shut.

Amelia took a step back and avoided Neal's eyes. "Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable." She informed him.

His eyes were wide and he gently touched his lips. Well, that was unexpected. Not unwelcomed, just unexpected.

She went to the door and slightly opened it. She saw two security guards go into the room across the hall. Amelia then looked to her left and saw a large stained glass window.

She turned back to Neal. "Do you trust me?" He nodded, still unable to really form words. "Then follow my lead." She quietly walked out of the room and grabbed a chair. She wedged it under the doorknob, trapping the guards inside.

Neal was next to her and she tilted her head to the window. He understood instantly. "Go big or go home." He sighed and took her hand.

They went running to the window and it broke on impact. Glass surrounded them on the way down and they landed on a tent below.

Across the field, a car flashed its lights at them. That had to be their ride out of here. Neal slid off the tent and helped Amelia before shots were being fired at them.

"Emma, a little help would be nice!" Neal yelled.

"On it." And an alarm began to sound from the building. The fire alarm had been activated and now Amelia and Neal were not the only people outside. It was pure madness.

They made it to the car and fell into the back seat.

"So I'm guessing you two don't like staying under the radar?" August asked from the front seat.

"Just drive." Amelia said.

"Thank God you knew the tent was there, that was like a fifteen-foot drop, could have broken a bone…" Neal began to say then stopped. "You didn't know, did you?"

"Nope, that was luck. August, we need to get back to headquarter, I have a person of interest."

#once upon a time #fanfic

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