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aesopsharpmybeloved · 4 months

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Echoes of Yuletide

A look into the life of Aesop Sharp, his family, friends, and the Christmas he spent with and without them. And, of course the love that brought back his ✨spark✨.

I would be desperately lost without my consultant, partner in crime, and brilliant friend @tea-withjamandbread

Yay, I managed to finish the Christmas fic before actual Christmas!

Echoes of Yuletide (10k words)

tw: parent death, best friend death, mourning/grief, child loss (implied), sexual content (mentioned), past alcohol abuse, teacher-student relationship (reader is an adult)

Aesop Sharp loved Christmas.

That is, he was absolutely crazy about them as a small child. It was never just about the presents (though those were a big plus), but it seemed that time in December was filled with nothing but happiness and cheer. Willow Creek, where he and his parents lived, was normally never as bright as it was during this time. It was a small village, and life there was slow. Nobody was ever in a rush to get anywhere, and there was always time to spare to to chat up the neighbours, as his dad and mum were so fond of doing, there was always time to go check out what the local greengrocer had on stock, ad there was always time to take a walk through the village green, to sit and just watch as life around happened, leisurely and calmly.

During the time of Yuletide, however, the whole village lit up in a flurry of colours and cheer, and everybody was rushing. Rushing to see as many people, to sing carols at as many houses as possible. It was a pleasant kind of rush. People decorated not only their homes, but the entire hamlet as well, and once the sun had set in the afternoon, Aesop always marvelled at the brilliant sight. There were candles and oil lamps burning with coloured flames upon every house, a wreath on every door, and some people even had fairies suspended around garlands for their ethereal multicoloured glow.

“Are they charmed? To stay where they are, I mean.” Aesop would ask his mother, as he didn’t think he himself would be too thrilled about the prospect of just standing or fluttering around, stuck in one place outside in the cold of winter. “No, dear,” Magdala Sharp would answer, “fairies are very vain little creatures, they enjoy being used as decorations, as they get to be looked at and admired.”

Aesop soon decided the fairies indeed were quite full of themselves, as when he offered one of them a crumb from his gingerbread man, the fairy did eat it, but then proceeded to stick its tongue out at him and blow him a raspberry.

The Sharp household was always much jollier than usual too. That is, it was always jolly - his father’s little jokes never failed to leave him giggling, and even his mum, who always rolled eyes at her husband good-naturedly, offered a chuckle from time to time at the puns Theodore Sharp said. During Christmas, however, his father was the most cheerful Aesop had seen him, and his enthusiasm was more than a little contagious. His mum wore beautiful dresses and jumpers every day, and made Aesop hot cocoa whenever he asked for it. His dad would show him how to sneakily pinch the freshly baked Christmas biscuits, and how to quickly dodge the spatula if caught in the act. His parents would dance around the living room together to the rhythm of whatever carol Theodore sang.

“Easy on the mead and eggnog, dear, we wouldn’t want you to take down the tree because you were a bit too frivolous in spinning me!” Aesop’s mum would warn, but the Muggle always only laughed harder and spun her faster.

It seemed like normal life actually stopped during this time - there was only the smell of vanilla and cinnamon, combined with the earthy scent of their Christmas tree, beautifully decorated by his parents and him without magic. There were slow evenings spent by the fire in their living room, where he’d roast apples or chestnuts to snack on, while his parents lay curled up together on the sofa, talking among themselves so softly, Aesop barely heard them.

And then, when he’d wake up on Christmas morning, it was still a little dark outside as the excitement wouldn’t let him sleep a minute longer than necessary. He’d run down the stairs to find a neat pile of presents wrapped in colourful paper and bound with strings and ribbons left under the tree. He’d return up the stairs, and quietly enter his parents bedroom to crawl between their sleeping forms on the bed. “Mummy,” he’d whisper in his high little voice barely able to contain his joy, “Daddy! Wake up, Father Christmas was here!”

His mum would wake up quicker than his father, but both would eventually indulge him and go downstairs to see what they’ve been given, but not before taking turns tickling the child for having woken them up so early. And as Aesop cheerfully played with his new toys, he was faintly aware of his parents watching him with content smiles on their faces, huddled together on dad’s large armchair, drinking their morning tea and trying not to succumb to the seductive pull of slumber.

If he knew it would be the last Christmas they spent like this, Aesop wouldn't have woken them when he came into their room. No, he’d cuddle up to his dad, and he would just hold him while he slept, because eight months later, his father was stabbed while at work by a robber trying to escape, and left for dead.

Hearing his mother’s anguished cries when she was told the news would haunt him for the rest of his life.

And yet, after that first night, which he too spent sobbing uncontrollably into his pillow, he never saw his mother cry for dad again. That is, he knew she cried at the Funeral, but she made little to no sound, and her tears weren’t visible behind the black weil she wore over her face.

Aesop cried a lot, and he cried often, and Magdala would hold him close to her, shush him, and comfort him, but she wouldn’t tear up. And even then, Aesop understood that it wasn’t because she wasn’t sad about losing dad, but rather because she didn’t want her son to be even sadder than he already was. Aesop knew she was suffering like he - she lost weight and grew pale, and she’d sigh more than he ever heard her sigh, and wistfully look at the places her husband would sit, as well as the unfinished tree house he began building for Aesop. Aesop would often come into his parents bedroom at night to sleep next to his mother, and breathe in his father’s smell that lingered upon the pillows and the blankets. He even snuck a few of father’s shirts into his room.

The bedroom next to his own used to have a crib and a rocking chair in it, and he used to see mum going there quite often before dad passed. Shortly after the funeral, the room became empty, and Aesop never saw his mother come near it anymore.

Aesop Sharp, once a happy, cheerful, delightfully mischievous young child now spent the majority of his days silent under the crushing weight of his father’s death.

He knew justice was served in the end, but it offered him little comfort.

“Sweetheart?” Magala said one day. Aesop didn’t answer, but looked up at his mother from the book he was practising his reading on, “The man who hurt your daddy confessed to what he did. And he was punished for it.” He didn’t say anything. In a way, he was glad the man would be punished, but in the end, no punishment would ever bring his father back.

It was the first time he regretted his father wasn’t a wizard - his mother would always say that it didn’t matter whether a person was a wizard or a muggle, because all that mattered was if they were a good one, and his dad was the best man Aesop ever knew. But if he had been a wizard, he surely wouldn't have died, Aesop was sure of it.

For the first time in his life, Aesop wasn’t looking forward to the colourful lights, nor the jolly wreaths, not even the rude but pretty fairies. They had no tree, Magdala baked no biscuits, nobody sang carols. He didn’t even want cocoa. He still found a few presents in their living room after he woke up on the 25th, but instead of playing with the soft stuffed Niffler, or the new set of Gobstones, he just took the new throw blanket he recognised as his mum’s knitting project, and once again curled up in dad’s spot on his parents’ bed to sleep some more.

The one gift he wanted he knew he could never have.

—

The young boy was grateful for the change of scenery that summer. The coolness of Gwydir forest calmed him, its utter peace helping quiet down the storm inside his heart. For the first time, he wasn’t looking forward to their neighbour’s children coming back from Hogwarts in hopes they’d play with him, despite being quite older than him. He mostly just wanted to be alone.

But then he met Ashley.

One sunny July day, Apollonia Chadwick, whom he called ‘aunt Chaddy’ even though she wasn’t a sister of either of his parents, came back from the small village nearby followed by a girl, who looked to be the same age as Aesop. She had straw coloured hair and azure eyes that seemed to be sparkling a little bit. She and Aesop shook hands awkwardly, and she offered to show him around, share with him the secret adventuring spots she discovered in the woods.

And Aesop was sad to go home when summer ended, as he didn’t want to leave the girl who became his best friend over the two months.

Ashley lost her mum a year ago, mum and a baby sister, and the two children bonded over their shared grief in losing someone so vital in their lives. They spent the summer running through the woods together and having their own little adventures. Aesop found a true friend in her, found himself gravitating to the young girl who, even under the weight of her sorrow, was one of the most brilliant, and contagiously energetic people he ever met.

“At least the bad man was punished, isn’t that good?” she’d ask one afternoon as they sat in his aunt’s little garden, snacking on fresh strawberries Magdala brought them earlier. “I suppose…” Aesop would reply, not really knowing whether it was good or bad.

“I think people should be punished when they’re bad… aren’t you punished after you’ve been bad?”

“I am. Mum sits me down and asks me to think about why what I did was wrong.” “And bad people should be too. They especially.” “That’s what dad did, you know,” Aesop confessed. He didn’t truly speak about his father that often, not even with mum. It was just too painful a topic. It was a little easier with Ashley. He actually felt a little better, talking about it. “He’d catch bad people so that they’d be punished, and he’d protect the good.” “I want to do that too when I grow up,” she grinned at him proudly, standing up to further prove her point. “You want to be a policewoman?”

“A poli-what? Oh, right, that’s the Muggle job!” Ashley said, and Aesop flushed. He forgot Ashley was from an entirely wizard family. “No, I want to be an Auror. So yes, pol-... pole-... whatever you said, but with magic. Don’t you?” “D-don’t I what?”

“Don’t you want to be an Auror? Catch bad people and help the good. Like your dad, except using spells.” “I-... I don’t know. Maybe?” Aesop thought. It never once occurred to him. He was too little, he’d have to wait and grow up before he could become an Auror. Would he want to become an Auror? He admired his father, and thought the world of him for trying to make the world a safer place. Would he be proud of Aesop, if he decided to follow in his footsteps, though in magical settings? Aesop liked helping people, it wouldn’t be exactly a bad thing to have helping and protecting people as his job.

“You have to be really tough to be an Auror though, I don’t know if you have what it takes…” “Of course I have what it takes to be an Auror!” Aesop looked at her offendedly, finding the girl’s eyes sparkling more than he ever saw them. He didn’t even know why he was so offended, seeing as he only just now found out that he could one day do what his pa did, but he didn’t like the tone of Ashley’s voice, like she didn't believe that Aesop was tough enough to be able to be a wizarding world policeman.

“Oh, really?” she asked with a wild grin, her voice still awfully smug and teasing. The lad puffed out his chest: “I have what it takes to be a brilliant Auror. Just wait, you’ll see!”

—

He and Ashley would write each other letters throughout the entire year, with the help from their respective parents of course. The art of masterfully wielding a quill still escaped Aesop somewhat, but his reading was getting better and better. And when possible, Ahsley’s father would bring her round to spend the weekend over at Sharps’.

“This place is huge!” she’d say the first time she visited, eyes as big as saucers. Aesop was giving her a tour while his mum and Mr Montgomery talked in the dining room over a cup of tea. “ I mean, our house isn’t small, but this place is really something else, like you could live here with your grandparents and there’d still be enough room. Do you really live here with your mum alone?” Aesop only shrugged. He didn’t have grandparents. That is, he knew his mum did have a mum and a dad of her own, but they never visited or spoke much. Mum said her parents didn’t agree on her marrying a Muggle as a pure-blood witch. Dad didn’t talk about his parents much as they both passed before Aesop was born. He only told the young lad that Grandma Sharp was kind, and knew how to make the perfect risotto, and that Grandpa Sharp used to be a gamekeeper, but that was about it. It was a large house, but only now Aesop realised just how large it truly was. And how empty.

“Yes. I was supposed to have a baby brother or sister, though.”

Ashley thought for a little bit.

“I was supposed to have a little sister too, I told you that. I was looking forward to her too, even though I didn’t know if it would be a boy or girl back then, dad only told me after… I was just happy someone would play with me,,” Aesop wanted to hug his friend. He knew she was very strong, but whenever she spoke about her family, the light in her eyes would dim. He hated seeing it. “Maybe we could pretend that you’re my brother and I’m your sister,” she offered, a sparkle returning to those eyes momentarily, and her voice was slightly hopeful.

Aesop didn’t understand how that’d be possible, considering they lived hundreds of miles away from each other, and his mother and her dad weren’t particularly close. But as he watched his friend’s growingly excited expression, saw the gleam in her pretty eyes, he found himself smiling back at her: “Alright. I’ll be your brother.”

“Then it’s a deal!”

—

Aesop was surprised to find a colourful garland adorning his windowsill one morning in December. Snow descended softly upon the prickly fir needles and the elegant, silky red ribbons. Soon, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled his nostrils and he sighed. In a way, he was happy, he missed the lovely smell and the pretty colours, but deep within his chest a dull ache remained. In just his nightshirt, he made his way to the kitchen, where his mother was only just pulling out a tray of gingerbread men out of the oven.

“Hello, my sweet,” she’d chirp at him with a small smile, quickly followed by a good-natured click of her tongue. “Go get changed, Aesop, it’s quite chilly here. We wouldn’t want you catching a cold and spending Christmas troubled by fever, would we? You can have a few of these after they've cooled down a little.”

And so the young boy changed into his warm clothes, and once more joined his mother downstairs. They shared a breakfast of hot chocolate and the slightly cooled down biscuits. “Mr Pruitt was so nice to bring a Christmas tree for us. It’s outside in the garden, we can bring it in and decorate it later,” Magdala spoke between sips. Aesop knew her cheerful voice was not entirely real, knew that she was hurting just like him.

But she was trying so hard for him. It was only fair that he tried for her too.

So he smiled at her softly: “Alright, mum.”

The Christmas they had wasn’t the same as it was when dad was there. There was no dancing, and he and mum sang their carols quietly. Aunt Chaddy came around, bringing Ashley with her for a few days. The house smelled heavenly, and Magdala made hot cocoa for Aesop and Ashley whenever they asked for it. The two children helped her and Chaddy bake more cookies, cook meals and even offered to cut some wood for the hearth. Unsurprisingly however, his mother wasn’t too keen on letting six year olds swing around with an axe. Still, in a way, it was a nice time. They walked around the village, admired the lights, and Aesop fed some more gingerbread crumbs to the fairies, though only one of them gave him a smile instead of sticking its tongue out at him or making a rude face.

He and Ashley played every day she was there, and Aesop was actually excited to show her his own adventuring spots. She’d call Aesop her brother when nobody could hear, like it was some big secret nobody could ever find out about. It amused him greatly, but he had to admit that he truly loved Ashley as if she was a part of his family, as if she really was his sister.

Chaddy stayed with them the entire holidays, and Aesop was actually glad to hear her and mum talking late into the night all the way from his bedroom. It’s not that he wasn’t happy to be with just his mum, but ever since Ashley pointed out just how large the house truly was, Aesop was unable to ignore it. The sound of his mum’s and aunt’s muted laughter was infinitely better than the complete silence.

And on Christmas morning he’d descend the stairs to find a pile of presents under their pretty fir tree. He patiently waited for his mother and aunt to wake and come downstairs as well before opening them, though, save for a single one he recognised as a gift from Ashley. The girl sent him a very obviously self-made Auror badge (which actually spelled AUЯOЯ), but it brought a huge grin to Aesop’s face anyway. Having talked more about it, the lad decided that he really did want to become one, so that he could protect people and catch the bad guys. Like his dad.

He showed it to his mother after she finally joined him in the living room, but the dark-eyed woman didn’t comment on it, only smiled at him a little sadly.

The next Christmases were quite similar, except they’d go to his aunt’s house to celebrate them, so that Aesop and Ashley could play more. His mother was more than happy to do so, as taking care of the two young troublemakers left her with nearly no time to think about Theodore. The house wasn’t quiet when the little rascals were around and she was glad for it. As years flew by, the children’s adventures became more daring, and they owled another every other day they weren’t together, and would openly address each other as brother and sister in their letters, now written solely by them.

Aesop helped his mother as best as he could, he aided in decorating the tree, and he tried his best to wrap the few small presents he had for his family and friends as nicely as he could.

And even though their Christmases were lovely, filled with delicious food and drinks, illuminated by bright, colourful lights, and full of the sounds of jingle bells and faintly sung carols, there was just something missing. The ‘spark’ that the holidays once held was gone. The memory of a world bathed in golden light, sparkling in its brilliance served as a constant reminder to Aesop that he’ll never again hear the sound of his father’s laughter as he spins his mother around the living room and kitchen, or tells another horrible joke.

And as he and Ashley began attending Hogwarts, he made peace with the fact that Christmas will never again be his happiest time of the year. He was still fond of it, though, and he always looked forward to going home for the break, to enjoy his mother’s delectable turkey and sugary Christmas pudding. The thought of staying at the castle for Christmas he didn’t even dare to entertain, as much as he loved Hogwarts in winter, draped in its elegant snowy coat.

—

And then, only a few years after he finished his education and set out to finally begin his career as an Auror along with Ashley, his present for Christmas left him gaping at his mother.

“W-what do you mean you ‘wrote the house on me’?” the Auror in training stuttered. “I meant what I said, child. I have grown rather tired of the two of you sneaking about like I don’t know Dinah comes by to spend the night,” Magdala Sharp replied, calmly sipping on her tea. Dinah Hecat wasn’t one to blush easily, but even she wasn’t completely resistant to the Sharp matron’s unabashed words. The two of them had been seeing each other romantically for several years now, their relationship having begun when both of them were still at school. Dinah was his match in both wit and power, and Aesop was absolutely mad for her.

“I have simply decided that it’s time to get myself something a little smaller, and leave the house in your care. I was sure you’d jump at the prospect of more privacy…” “Well, yes, but not by kicking you out of your own home!” “Nobody is kicking me out, dear,” His mother let out a long-suffering sigh, as if Aesop was the one who was behaving foolishly now. He wasn’t, was he? His mother just told him she’d be leaving the house where she spent half of her life, and leaving him there. “I am going on my own… I know you were looking into flats and houses for rent, I understand you want to become independent, and I wish you well in the endeavour. But this house truly is too big for one person, especially an ageing person like myself.” Aesop however heard what his mother didn’t say. She didn’t want to stay all alone in the house, husband dead and son someplace far. The emptiness would eat her alive. Aesop, however, could live here with Dinah. “This house holds many happy old memories,” she said then, as if reading his thoughts, “It’s time for it to get some new ones too, I think. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be at the other end of the world, the flat I bought is quite a short way from here.”

Aesop blinked. “You already BOUGHT a flat? How- When-”

“Oh dear, you really should grow more observant, you won’t be a very good Auror like this…”

—

The next several years were possibly the happiest in Aesop's life since his father passed. He became a fully fledged Auror, and he was making a name for himself as one of the most capable ones too. He was ecstatic to find that Ashley would be his partner - they did it. They made their childhood dream too. Ashley actually completed the recruitment programme before Aesop, and never failed to find an opportunity to tease him about it. And while everyone else saw her laughing at his morose face after she poked at his pride some more, nobody saw her embracing him with the words ‘Congratulations, brother.’

Dinah meanwhile was climbing the ministry ladder with all the elegance and ease of a cat. She truly did move in with him shortly after the house fully became Aesop’s own, and they were rather successful in learning to run their little household. The couple grew fairly proficient in balancing their jobs, their home life and their social life. Aesop met up with his buddies and colleagues at a pub every now and then, and Dinah would occasionally spend an evening out with her friends. Ashley would come around often for a free dinner. That is, she'd pay for the dinner by checking up on the plants the couple had in their garden - neither Dinah nor Aesop have ever been overly proficient in Herbology.

And during Christmas time, the house was lively as Aesop never saw it. Friends gathered over to spend the holidays with the young couple, his mother and her family would come for lunch on the 26th, and they’d go out to visit people as well. And then, when the two of them were finally left to their own devices, Dinah would convince her sweetheart to leave the mess and dirty dishes the way they were, and follow her to bed - he still had a present to unwrap, after all.

For a few years, Aesop felt like the ‘spark’ was back. He looked forward to Christmas. He looked forward to taking some time away from work, to taking his sweetheart shopping in London, to eating out in fine restaurants when they didn't want to cook. He looked forward to seeing her when he woke up, and he looked forward to seeing her when he came home from work.

Life was good.

—

And then it wasn't.

Aesop had been worried Dinah was going to give him the boot for some time now, but when she finally did… He found himself torn. He still loved her a lot, and he was feeling utterly miserable after she told him that she didn’t want to be his sweetheart anymore. However, a part of him deep down knew that she was right.

They barely had any time for each other these days… No, that was a lie. They both worked as much as they worked two years ago, maybe even less, actually. The problem was that they stopped making time for the two of them. Dinah didn’t indicate that she’d like him to ask for her hand in marriage, and Aesop never did so. Instead of going home after work, Aesop would pop into a pub with a colleague or two, and Di would spend long extra hours in her job doing extra research nobody asked her for. When one of them came home, the other was usually long asleep. They still kissed and they made love, and that was lovely, but other than that… other than that it felt like they were roommates, rather than a couple. The picnic basket they readied on the kitchen counter in May still stood there in September, because there simply ‘wasn’t the time’.

Both of them cried the evening they decided to separate, and they were both nearly ready to take it all back after that first night. The Auror had no idea how the pair of them managed to resist the want to just go back to how things were. It seemed so much better than the anxiety of the unknown. He himself didn’t know what adult life was like without Dinah, and it scared him.

Yet, Aesop insisted on being a gentleman and let the young woman have the bed while he slept on the couch until she found a new place to live. He actually even offered to vacate the house entirely, but Dinah insisted she was not going to throw him out of his own home.

Several nights in the row, the Auror was woken by his now former lover in the middle of the night to find her unsure and doubtful. Both of them knew that they craved the comfort of one another’s arms, but at the same time realised that stepping onto the sinking ship would mean to drown.

It got a little easier after she finally found her own flat.

He made her keep the key - she was still one of his closest friends, his home was hers whenever she needed it. It was the longest time they hadn’t seen each other. Ashley was there for Aesop during the entire time, offering kind glances and comforting touches, but also horrible jokes that made her partner roll his eyes. The few times he met Dinah during this time, be it passing one another at the Ministry, or accidentally bumping into each other at Diagon Alley, were a little awkward, but the pair always gave each other a smile and a soft greeting, and that was that. It wasn’t until the Christmas ball of the Ministry of Magic did they truly talk to one another again, but surrounded by so many other people, some friends included, things got less and less awkward, and they started meeting up more after that, this time only as friends.

Aesop spent the holidays on his own that year. There was no large feast, no turkey nor Christmas pudding, but it was alright. Aesop had himself a light, solitary dinner at his undecorated home, followed by a few drinks, and he was asleep before midnight. He stopped by his mum’s flat the next day, and also Ashley’s home. It was the first year she and her girlfriend spent the holidays together, and Aesop had the rare opportunity to tease his best friend about being a sappy, sentimental sod. When Christina wasn’t looking, Ash gave him the two finger salute, making him snort with amusement.

Aesop actually felt quite alright to spend some time on his own, his previous relationship having left him quite unwilling to give his heart to somebody else so soon. However, that didn’t mean his bed was always empty. After all, he was young and not entirely bad looking, and an Auror on top of that. There was always a pretty young lady wanting to make his acquaintance a bit more intimately, and who was he to say no to that. Ashley didn’t really comment on his short, little affairs, only occasionally inquiring whether he didn’t think to give at least one of those girls more of a chance to get to know him.

“The ginger one, with the wide-set hips, she seemed nice.” “She was very nice.” “Will you meet her again?” “Possibly. London is not that big, it’d be strange if I never saw her in my life again.”

Ashley rolled her eyes and huffed.

—

The young Auror was called into St Mungo’s one day to find a woman he almost didn’t recognise at first. But as he looked into her brown eyes, took in her hairstyle and the features of her wrinkled face, there was no doubt.

“What the bloody hell happened, Di?” he breathed out, sinking to sit on the bed at her feet. The beautiful brunette, a year his junior, looked like an older lady of at least 60 years, her once chestnut hair dark grey, her once smooth cheeks riddled by lines, her hands, once so soft and youthful, were ones of an old woman.

He held his past lover to him as she cried her poor eyes out, and when the time came for her to be dismissed from the wizarding hospital, there was absolutely no doubt as to where Dinah would be staying for the foreseeable future. Aesop just took it as a done thing, and she didn’t argue. She refused to let him stay home with her the whole day, however.

“I am old, Aesop, not an invalid. I can take care of myself for a few hours.” “I don’t want you to be alone…” Dinah would be quiet for the longest time.

“Did you… did you tell your mother?”

“I did.” “Then I doubt I’ll be alone for long…” She was right of course. Magdala Sharp arrived mere minutes before he left for the office, to be there for her former potential daughter-in-law. The two of them always got on like a house on fire, and were a little too willing to poke fun at him together. Today, however, Aesop was happy about it, as his mother’s words finally brought a genuine smile to the Unspeakable’s face.

“He’s coddling you and refuses to leave you alone, isn’t he. As you can see, dear, we’re two grown up ladies here, you may be on your merry way.”

He knew his mother was long gone when he came back, despite the fact that he left work earlier than he had in months. Dinah was curled up on the sofa, reading one of his silly Muggle detective books, an empty teacup on the little table. Noiselessly, Aesop kneeled next to the sofa and laid a hand upon her knee, just holding it there. Neither of them spoke for a long time, but then.

“You know you can stay here, right? Stay with me, I’d take care of you. I’d marry you too, gladly. It doesn’t matter what you look like, I still think you’re beautiful,” Aesop said quietly, bringing his friend’s hand to his lips for emphasis. Dinah merely clicked her tongue at him: “Stop being an idiot, Aesop. Just because you haven’t been seriously seeing anyone for a while doesn’t matter that your dreams changed. I know you want someone to start a family with, have children… I didn’t want them before, but now I most likely can’t even have them. I don’t want you to tie yourself to me out of pity, or, Merlin forbid, because you feel like you have to. I am not your responsibility and you don’t owe me anything - I knew all sorts of things could happen when I took the job, and it was a risk I took..”

“I want to help you. Not out of pity, but because I love you.” “And I love you, dear. But there’s nothing you can do. I am grateful to you for letting me stay. I am not going to lie and insult your intelligence by saying I’m not glad not to have to bear this on my own, but do you know me as someone who wouldn’t get back up after having been put down?”

“No…” Aesop sighed, “no, not you.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll get used to it. And you - you will find a lovely girl and make her your wife. And I’ll be there to poke fun at you in front of her and the children you’ll have with her.”

“Sounds… sounds great.”

—

Dinah stayed with him for a few weeks, and Aesop was amazed how well they still worked together, though they were no longer lovers. Aesop conjured up a large, comfortable bed for her in one of the empty rooms upstairs, he cooked for the two of them, or just brought home some sandwiches from this and that bakehouse he currently frequented, while Dinah stayed home and made sure he only ever walked around in clean clothes, and that the house was tidy. They’d spend their evenings in the living room, reading and sharing a few glasses of something strong, before retiring to their own rooms to sleep.

Aesop was quite sad to see her go, but the former Unspeakable insisted that despite her ailment, she just wasn’t able to stop working and enjoy the ministry pension just yet. Once more, Aesop was alone in the large house. Dinah still visited, and so did Ashley and her now fiancée, as well as some other friends, not to mention his mother, but at night Aesop was all alone, falling asleep to the empty house settling.

—

And then he met Mary.

She started out as one of his one-night acquaintances, but soon it became obvious she was not going to let the Auror go so easily. After a few more meetings and a few more nights spent with her, Aesop decided that she was a pretty alright woman, and he supposed that it wasn’t exactly a punishment to be with her. He didn’t really court her the way he courted Dinah, he wasn’t being terribly romantic. He did take her out to eat, and he got her the occasional flower, and that was enough for her. She warmed his bed proficiently, if not his heart, and he didn’t mind letting her tag along with him whenever he attended some sort of formal gathering.

It was quite an on-and-off relationship, though. There were some evenings Aesop wanted to spend by himself and she was rather quick to take offence. He never tried to stop her from walking out on him, but found himself sending a box of chocolates or a bouquet of flowers to her work the very next week, which was enough to placate her and get her back into his arms.

He didn’t want to spend Christmas with her either, which was something she took rather harshly every year. It was nothing against her, really, she was pleasant enough, but after the several beautiful years he spent with Dinah, he knew he’d be comparing the two ladies, and neither of them deserved that. It wasn't even like he was doing anything special either. He sent a few presents to friends and colleagues, a bottle of some strong liquor to his boss, and several cards. Like the past few years, he spent Christmas Eve by himself, eating a simple dinner and drinking a glass (or four) of Firewhisky, turned in early, then visited his mum and friends on Christmas day. And then, on the 27th, he’d send Mary some lovely present, a piece of jewellery or a smart accessory, something nice that’d convince her to forgive him, and spend New Years’ with him.

It wasn’t love, but it was alright.

—

And then his entire life changed.

On a cold, dreary day in January, he and Ashley found themselves in a harbour in Scarborough, and neither of them knew that they wouldn't be leaving. Not on their own at least.

Aesop cried rivers at the funeral, his throat sore from all the uncontrollable sobbing he’d done in the previous days. He wasn’t even able to stand and honour the girl who had been his best friend for almost twenty five fucking years. His sister. He wasn’t able to look her wife and son in the eye. Christina touched his shoulder, she tried to embrace him, tried telling him that she doesn’t hold it against him. That she knew he did his best.

But he had not.

He left Ashley there by herself, chasing after their suspect when he should’ve stayed glued to her bloody side. He should’ve protected her. He should’ve saved her. It was so unfair, if anything, he should’ve been the one to die. Ashley had a wife, and she had a child, she should’ve lived, she should’ve remained around to be there for her family. And because of Aesop, she was lying in her coffin, looking like a lot of things, but definitely not asleep. She looked dead. Her cheeks sunk in, and her skin was ashen. Her eyes were closed. She was dead, and Aesop knew it was his fault.

It served him right to be in so much physical pain he couldn’t even sleep.

They wheeled him straight back to St Mungo’s after the funeral.

People came by to see him. His mother. Dinah. Abraham Ronen too, whom Aesop hasnt seen for a few years at that point. A few colleagues, and even his boss. Mary. She cried, sitting by his side. She wasn’t the only one who cried as they sat next to him. Mother alone cried harder than he ever really saw her. She cried harder than she cried at dad’s funeral, that he knew. Mary’s crying had been the most uncomfortable one, though. He asked the healers not to let her in again.

And when she’d show up at his house after they released him weak and limping, seeing him off with a ‘We apologise, Mr Sharp, but we cannot heal your leg, not at the moment at least’, Aesop didn’t open the door for her. She pleaded, and cried, and begged, and threatened, and Aesop didn’t even wheel himself to that bloody front door. He actually thought he was doing her a service. What would she even do with him? He was in so much pain, he couldn’t even… One of the reasons he liked having her in his life was that he liked having her in his bed, and he was pretty fucking certain that was something he was unable to do now, maybe not ever again.

After some time, she stopped coming.

And he started drinking.

It didn’t matter what it was, as long as it packed a punch. He’d drink until he passed out, actually preferring the godawful hangover the next day, as it distracted him from the pain in his leg, in his face… In his broken fucking heart. He was filthy, drunk and half mad when he made an attempt at his life. Dinah’s wrath at his actions descended upon him, and while she screamed at him, furious and fuming and worried to death, in Aesop’s eyes she was an angel on Earth.

He quit drinking, and he finally started using his two bloody feet to get around. It wasn’t easy, his leg still hurt like hell, but Aesop decided to take it as a challenge. Ashley would kick his sorry arse if he never even made an attempt to walk again. Ashley would give him verbal thrashing he’d remember until his dying moment. What would she think if she met looking like he did before Dinah made the decision to pester him until he got better. She wouldn’t even want to be his friend, and definitely not his sister.

Every day he worked so that he could at least pretend that he was someone Ash would waste her time with.

Christina wrote him a card and Aesop considered throwing it out without even reading it, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was ashamed of it, but he was happy Christina and the lad would be leaving to stay with her family in America. He did not celebrate Christmas that year. He actually wanted to drink himself under the table and forget there even was something like Christmas. Dinah was watching him like a hawk though, and actually convinced Abraham and his mother to babysit him whenever she didn’t have time to do it herself, and he was never allowed more than two glasses. He complained about being treated like a child, and while Abraham appeared genuinely apologetic, mum and Dinah would bicker back that he truly was acting like an irresponsible teenager.

However, Aesop was glad in a way. They cared. Despite all that happened, they didn’t give up on him. Aesop wouldn’t have blamed them if they did. But no, one of them was always there with him, willingly listening to his grumpy comments and his self-deprecating tirades. Even though Dinah had her own worries, her own pains, she was absolutely ready to apparate to his house every single day if it meant saving him from drowning himself in booze. So he promised to be good. Abraham was worse, on some days he actually made him laugh. The first time it happened, the sound felt almost unknown to Aesop’s ears. It was most curious…

He asked to be left alone for the holidays, but to no avail. His mother had him stay at her flat. She didn’t decorate, there was no tree, nor Christmas cookies. No turkey and no carols. Aesop felt both glad and sad. Glad not to have been reminded that only a year prior, he was over at Ahsley’s and watched her son open the gift he brought him. However, he was also sad because he knew his mum liked Christmas a lot, and chose not to indulge in them this year on his behalf. Unlike him, she was able to move on. She found her ‘spark’ again. Aesop envied her.

He didn’t even buy her a present. He didn’t buy presents for anybody. And yet he got one from her and from his friends as well. He didn’t open them until next year’s Christmas.

—

It was 1882, and he was the new potions professor at Hogwarts. He walked using his cane, but there were days he felt stable enough to leave it in his rooms. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but there being dozens of trouble-stirring teenagers around him at nearly all times actually helped him. He didn’t have time to think about Ashley, not to mention her family, when he was busy making sure the students didn't accidentally off themselves inside or outside his class. He suddenly understood why his mother was always so happy to have Ashley there with him. He was kept busy, and he was glad. And whenever he had some time to spare, he spent it deep in the library books, trying to come up with the cure for his leg. His childhood friend would want him to be healthy, Aesop knew that now. Before he realised it, the first snowflakes began falling outside the castle’s windows, and Christmas decorations started appearing throughout the halls.

Has Hogwarts been this festive when he was a student? He could hardly remember. It was difficult to be bitter when the entire school seemed to be sparkling, when the house elves were seemingly intent on making him not fit into his trousers and shirts before the year was done, and when his colleagues were actually being rather brilliant. Well, the Herbology teacher was quite sour. And he decided fairly early on that Headmaster Black was an utter tosser, an opinion that seemed to be shared by the majority of staff. Come to think of it, he was already a tosser when Aesop attended Hogwarts. Di confirmed it for him.

He was glad Dinah was there. And he felt like she was glad he was there too.

The deputy headmistress, he actually reckoned he met at the ministry once, and he absolutely remembered Binns from when he was a student himself, but otherwise it was an entirely new group of people for the former Auror. He got on with Bai Howin quite well, and Chiyo Kogawa, while a little over-obsessed with Quidditch proved to be a quite good conversation partner as well. The magical theory teacher, Eleazar Fig, actually surprised him with his knowledge of the inner goings at the ministry, even offered some information Aesop himself didn’t know, and they’d occasionally share a pint together at the Three Broomsticks.

The holidays were alright. Aesop wasn’t as jolly as he used to be before, but he was able to enjoy himself. He opened his presents from the previous year, and actually sent out his own, only to the few friends he had left. And mother, obviously. When a few colleagues invited him out to the Three Broomsticks, he politely turned them down though. His Christmas Eve was spent in Dinah’s company and the warmth of Firewhiskey. Dinah let him have three glasses now. He’d sometimes indulge more on his own, but she didn’t need to know that. However, as Aesop knew her, she absolutely knew it.

“A little peaky aren’t we today? I certainly hope you’re not coming down with something, dear,” she’d comment on the mornings when it was clearly visible he’d had more than three glasses the previous evening. Otherwise, though, she let him off the hook. He didn’t teach while drunk, and he didn’t cause any further scenes. He also didn’t drink every single day.

The next year, Aesop began exercising more. Despite the many many stairs in the castle, there was a bit more meat on him than he was used to. He discussed with the nurse some exercises safe for him, and was glad to see his metabolism hadn’t turned to complete bollocks over the past few years. He wasn’t as chiselled as he used to be as an Auror, more sinewy and slim now, but he felt strong enough. Despite his bad leg, he felt quite content in his body. He kept himself busy, and more or less healthy, and that was enough of a win for him And it got even better when Abraham joined them.

Aesop found a strange sort of mundane, everyday peace. He’d still have nightmares often during the night, and some days were just plain fucking bad. His leg still hurt like hell, and especially so when he was cold. But he had a routine now, and it kept him functional.

He stopped rejecting his colleagues when they invited him out to the pub, and found the private room there truly wasn’t a bad place to spend an evening in. Especially in his friends’ company.

Most teachers met there on Christmas Eve, talking quietly among themselves, sharing a little toast and wishes for an even better next year. Abraham and Eleazar would depart from them first, both men eager to go home to their wives, then more and more people would retire to either go back to Hogwarts, or apparate to wherever they lived. Moon and Howin would be there the longest, and Moon seldom left on his own two legs. In the end, it’d be just Aesop and Dinah. They’d exchange one last ‘Happy Christmas’ and tip back their drinks, before leaning against one another in pursuit of the nearest Floo flame. It reminded Aesop how it used to be before all this, when both of them were young, when they were healthy.

In his mind, the image of two young, giggling, drunk people formed. They used to be so carefree, so easy to smile and laugh. They’d snog each other senseless, uncaring that they were barely able to keep standing without losing their balance. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Before they’d depart for their own chambers, Aesop would give Dinah a quick, platonic peck on the lips, and she never commented on it.

His hangover the next day forced him to not even go to the Great Hall to eat, and not even Wiggenweld seemed able to fix the damage. He’d only ever emerge to use the loo, and he wouldn’t even bother changing out of his sleeping clothes. The potions master unwrapped his gifts, and hoped the ones he got for his friends and mother would be liked. Like everything else, Christmas became a routine. It wasn’t bad, and there were definitely bright moments, but the one thing missing, that ‘spark’ the holiday held for him when he was a small boy was gone. And Aesop was convinced that it would stay that way. He didn’t mind all that much. Life was alright.

—

Another change happened though…

The change came in the form of a young woman, a Ravenclaw that started her education in Hogwarts as a Fifth-year. Most unusual. But then again, the entire year turned out to be most unusual.

If Aesop never had to attend another funeral, it would be too soon.

He knew this thought was silly. Everyone dies at some point. A thought that both frightened and strangely comforted Aesop. Eleazar hadn’t been a young man, and Aesop knew the teacher had been heart-broken over his wife’s death, understandably so. And yet, as he stood there in his dark robes and watched his colleague being lowered into the ground in a coffin, he allowed himself a few tears. Eleazar Fig was a good man, and while Aesop only just began uncovering what truly transpired between him and the Ravenclaw and whole-heartedly disagreed on several choices Fig made, the truth was that he was still far better than many people Aesop ever met.

Fig’s protege definitely seemed to think so, as she quietly sobbed her poor eyes out. It occurred to Aesop that she maybe felt like he felt when his father died. Which was a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone, truly.

He never expected how close the two of them would grow when he reached out to her.

And close they grew.

—

The very next year, the teacher was frankly surprised to find an extra present for him at the foot of his bed. He was once again miserably hungover and deeply regretting the amount of drinks he had the previous night. It was even worse than last year. Maybe he was just getting old. Next to the little parcels he recognised were from his mum, from Abe, and from Di, stood another one. It was wrapped in simple brown paper, tied up with strings, and decorated with a small twig from a pine tree and a few holly berries. Aesop had a suspicion as to who was the sender, but he struggled to believe it.

Students didn’t often send gifts to their teachers, not even the popular ones like Mirabel or Abraham himself. And yet, it would seem Aesop was a recipient of one this year. How curious. It was only fair, he supposed, given the fact that he sent her a present as well… He still didn’t know just why he did so… except he kind of did.

She was the first person in many years to whom he opened up, actually opened up. His colleagues knew him to a certain degree, but he was never comfortable discussing something too deep with them. He’d be careful about difficult subjects even with Dinah. And yet, here came this young woman, and he felt comfortable telling her things he hadn’t spoken of out loud for years. Or was it a decade already? Aesop didn't know. The Ravenclaw was… she was his friend. She was kind and brilliant. And she understood. She didn’t judge him, and she never once walked out on him. And he in turn supported her. He’d be there whenever he knew she felt troubled, and he was certain he was also the one she opened up to the most. It felt nice.

He grinned when he unveiled his gift.

It was a set of inks of various colours, inks meant for drawing. Aesop showed her his little workshop, and she seemed genuinely fascinated with his interest in art. She commented on many of his pieces, and the teacher honestly felt proud to be a recipient of her praise. It was a thoughtful gift and he was grateful. He only hoped she would like the journal he bought for her. A warm emotion spread within his core, and his heart sped up a little bit, as if fearful to admit it was even there. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on the feeling too much, as it was scary and it was new. Not entirely new. But Aesop hadn’t felt it in so long, it might as well have been the first ever time.

He didn’t stay in his chambers the whole day like he usually would.

Strengthened by a couple of Wiggenwelds and a long shower to wash the stench of booze away, he managed to make himself presentable and actually made it to the Great Hall for lunch. He still felt like shit, and he stumbled slightly more than normally, but it was worth it for him in the end.

The moment she saw him, the Ravenclaw beamed, stood up and approached him.

“Hello, sir. Happy Christmas,” she extended her right hand for him to take, and Aesop did so with a smile, shaking it softly, yet with a firm grip. “Happy Christmas, Miss. I hope my present didn’t make you uncomfortable.” She shook her head vehemently: “Of course not, sir. It's very lovely and thoughtful, and I adore the drawing you did. It’s one of my most favourite places in the castle.”

“I remember you mentioning so. I’m glad you like it. I am very grateful for the set of inks, I’ll certainly use them often. Although I implore you not to waste so much money on your potions master.”

“It’s not money wasted in my opinion, sir. If the gift made you happy, it’s money I was glad to spend…” she got quiet for a little while and so did Aesop. They looked at each other quietly for a few moments, and the professor didn’t notice his heart beating slightly faster. She finally cleared her throat: “I’m sorry, sir, I mustn’t keep you from your lunch, you are surely hungry.” She’d give him a small wave and a smile, and go back to her seat while he made his way over to the High table.

Dinah would be sitting there, definitely quite peaky. He’d give her a teasing grin, one that she wouldn’t return.

“Look at you. One would think you had a glass too many last night, Di,” he teased.

“I feel better about how I look, now that I see you,” she bit back, making Aesop chuckle genuinely.

“Happy Christmas, Dinah.” “Happy Christmas, dear.”

—

Aesop Sharp, a former Auror and a potions master known for his quick wit, that was as sharp as his name, sat in his chair gaping like a stuffed squirrel. The young woman with whom he grew so close over the last two years looked at him nervously.

She just confessed her love for him.

Aesop’s been in love with her for months, he felt he was slowly going mad from how much he longed for her, how much he yearned to close his arms around her and kiss her silly, but he never once allowed himself to hope that she’d ever return his feelings. And yet here she was, saying those three words he was desperate to hear from her lips for so long. It felt surreal. It was Christmas Eve of 1893, and Aesop was considering pinching himself, fully expecting to wake up in his bed, alone.

He looked deep into her eyes, searching for any hint that she wasn’t being truthful, but he found none. He stood up swiftly, startling the poor girl. His heart beat hard and fast, and he was aware of his cheeks warming up under the weight of her revelation, but he felt determined not to keep her waiting for her answer.

“Aesop,” he blurted out instead.

“I’m sorry?” “I-I should have asked you to call me Aesop ages ago,” he admitted, his hand moving to her soft cheek on its own accord.

“Darling girl…”

A sound made him look up. Above the two of them, a few twigs of mistletoe swirled into existence.

“There is nothing more I’d wish than to have you by my side,” he said truthfully as he gathered the young woman into his embrace. And then she kissed him, and Aesop’s brain gave out. There was nothing but her at that moment. Nothing but the feeling of her slight body against his own, nothing but her intoxicating scent, nothing but the sweetness of wine upon her lips, and underneath that was the taste of her, and Aesop knew at that moment that he was desperately addicted to it.

And then, the world exploded into a flurry of lights and colours. Life lit up behind Aesop's eyelids, brighter than any Christmas lights he ever saw, and at that exact moment he felt it. He finally felt the spark that he felt was lost forever. It was right there, within his tender hold, and it shone, and sparkled, and it burned, warming his entire body up.

He moaned quietly into her mouth and pulled her even closer.

Her hands were in his hair and her body trembled in his hold under the weight of their emotions, and the culmination of their hidden longing.

A tear rolled out of his closed eye and ran down his weathered cheek, and Aesop Sharp succumbed fully to the happiness that seemed to be bursting through his veins, filling him up entirely. He was home, exactly where he was supposed to be.

Aesop Sharp loved Christmas.

Hello, and thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little story, and if you did, I'll be very grateful for your feedback. You can also check this story and all of my other stories over at my AO3 ❤

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ajgrey9647 · 2 months

Note

Self-soothing prompts: Wrapping themself in a large blanket that makes them feel small and safe. + Coinless Zack?

Pain in Multiples/No One Can Save You But You

His life had changed so dramatically and rapidly that Zack had no time to process the traumatic events as they unfolded. The Black Ranger had stubbornly held on to the big picture once his initial shellshock in the aftermath of Drakkon’s birth had receded. There hadn’t been a choice, really.

The survivors needed him to get his head together, to keep them safe, to formulate some kind of plan to defeat the monster. However, everything he came up with amounted to a suicide mission, their chances of success well in the negative percentile. Which Billy claimed wasn’t empirically possible as his mind scrambled for tight control of whatever it could find and, of course, mathematics and its precise outcomes fit the bill nicely.

Zack barely kept himself from the flashpoint of rage at the silly, pedantic statement, his hand smacking sharply against the assortment of scribbled papers littering the rickety table.

“Obviously, I don’t literally mean we have a -1000% of defeating Lord Drakkon, Billy!” he snapped, hating himself for his irritation even as the words tumbled forth. “I just don’t care for the words ‘certain death’, alright?”

The Blue Ranger retreated back to his tiny cot in the stark, barren room of the abandoned nursing facility like a scolded puppy.

“Oh God, Billy! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” the black-clad teen sighed, following his friend’s retreat.

He nestled on the lumpy piece of furniture next to where the blonde genius huddled under a ragged scrap of a blanket, only the wispy top of his golden locks visible.

“No, Zack. I’m the one who should be apologizing… I should have been able to determine a quicker way to infuse Jason with the White Tiger powers. Or invented a way to help fortify the Command Center against breaches. If I had, then Zordon, Alpha, and Jason would still be here,” he sobbed brokenly. “This is all my fault!”

Placing a shaky hand over the tightly bundled fabric, the Black Ranger hissed forcefully.

“That’s not true, man! If anything is anyone’s fault…well, I could have tried harder or looked longer to find Tommy before that son of a bitch hitched himself back with Rita! I could have convinced him his place was with us! Then there would have no need for new powers or any of that other shit!”

Of course, words were hollow in moments such as these.

The icy fingers of blame stretched far and wide, ensnared deep in the darkest parts of each Ranger’s heart. No amount of countering could convince any of them that they did not have a direct hand in the terrible emergence of this homicidal, superpowered dickhead.

Zack already knew full well where Kimberly Hart stood on her role in this nightmarish clusterfuck. Their conversation had gone no better than the one he’d had with the Blue Ranger. Full of rage and vengeance in addition to her bitter tears, the Pink Ranger spit fire as she insisted upon her failure.

“And if I pressed harder on my suspicion that Tommy was the Green Ranger way back before we finally found out, maybe that would have changed things, given us more time, I don’t know! Or if I had been able to get through to him when I confronted him in the Youth Center before the Sword of Darkness was destroyed…” she yelled, kicking violently at a haphazard stack of old wooden crates outside the kitchen.

The tiny girl had been profoundly changed the moment Drakkon’s deadly hands held forth Jason’s blood streaked red Tyranno helmet with its shattered visor. Something broke inside her at seeing the graphic evidence of her beloved big brother’s murder.

Kimberly often awoke in the wee hours of the night, screaming a heartbroken wail that echoed easily down the tiled corridors where the remaining citizens secreted themselves from Drakkon’s Red Sentry army.

“I miss him, Zack! I don’t know how to live without him here, to protect us, guide us… I’d give anything for one more of his big teddy bear hugs right now!” she moaned, her knees giving out and dropping her to the ground. “To hear his voice…”

From a battered canvas bag she kept guarded on her person at all times, her trembling hands pulled out a small, velvety plush dinosaur, it’s black plastic eyes seemingly gazing into their souls, the two small front legs adorned with soft, felt claws.

“Rexy…” Zack gasped in wonderment. “How the hell did you get that? And when? Drakkon’s goons…”

Kim cuddled the T Rex tightly to her chest in defiance.

“Don’t worry about it,” she retorted. “It’s one piece of Jason that motherfucker won’t ever get!”

She breathed deeply of the top of Rexy’s head.

“It still has his smell. I’m afraid of the day that it will be gone too.”

“Kim…”

But the Pink Ranger turned her head away.

“Just leave me alone, Zack… Please…”

As for Trini, she didn’t speak much for quite awhile after the events of Ascension Day, merely staring into space and only doing anything when guided physically by another person to do so. Usually that person was the Black Ranger. Caring for the catatonic girl was one concrete thing he could do to help anything in this godforsaken hellhole.

With his diligence, he’d finally coaxed the start of a few small words from the Yellow Ranger as they sat nibbling a stale piece of bread covered with a swath of crunchy peanut butter to disguise its brittleness.

“Evil won,” she whispered. “Rita…won..”

Zack couldn’t stomach hearing that sentiment.

“No, she didn’t. We’re still here, girl! And we’ll find a way to beat them! Just like we always do!”

But she shook her head, long dark swishing her upper arms.

“Not this time. There’s no going back. He killed them…”

Damn, but those early days were rough. Days? Hell, months to be more accurate.

They were all fortunate to have some time to regroup and rest within the confines of the crumbling facility Bulk had led them to before they’d been flushed out like a nest of fledgling mice into the night. More people were lost in the confusion and chaos… there was no to prevent that with the might of the jackal-like Sentries.

He, along with Kimberly, Billy, Trini, Bulk, and Skull, had managed to herd whoever he could to safety, delivering a series of satisfying blows to the marauders as he did so. Morphing into their respective suits was eerie and horrible without Jason there to call out in his deep, authoritative yell, ‘It’s Morphin’ Time!’ or ‘Tyrannosaurus!’

It was salt in their still fresh wound.

But once again, Zack was unable to take the time to properly mourn or grieve or fully appreciate the gravity of their new rebellious resistance. It felt like a movie or a nightmare or a really bad bout with alcohol… anything but reality. He always half expected to wake up in his bed before school or in the Command Center with his head bandaged or being given some elixir to reverse a spell… only to be depressingly disappointed.

The Black Ranger had not one spare minute, not when there were issues to address such as procuring food, medical equipment, weapons, clothing, or other supplies, finding safe places to hide out, or constructing their new Coinless leadership. Trini seemed to come back to life when this was going on, drawing on tremendous inner strength and determination in their fallen friends’ honor.

They would slay the dragon.

But the spiteful prick inflicted more lethal wounds before they even got that far in their day to day considerations, operating from a primal survival mode as they cared for what people remained of Angel Grove.

Rumor spread that Rita was dead, killed by ‘her’ evil Ranger’s dagger. Whispers swirled throughout what remained of the city where a lavish palace was being constructed even as the surrounding landscape slowly regressed, unnoticed in the wake of Drakkon’s coup. Those with firsthand knowledge described Rita’s final moments, screeching at the tyrant about his ‘careless, short-sighted, and impertinent decision’. No one knew to what she was referring but rather than argue, Drakkon turned toward his Empress, smiled beatifically as he declared his entitlement to a ‘prize from his battle’, and casually drove his blade through her torso.

Death and loss followed the asshole like a contagious disease.

Drakkon took Billy from them, as effortlessly as blowing a girlish kiss, his Red Sentry blasting a gory hole through the Blue Ranger as he stood protectively before Trini, her morpher already yanked from her belt and being twirled in the tyrant’s long fingers. Zack had swooped in then, challenging the dictator after knocking the murderous Sentry from the bluffs overlooking the ocean.

“Well, hello again, Zackary…” Drakkon purred, his helmet slowly roving up and down the Black Ranger’s battle-damaged suit. “Tough breaks, hmmm? Looks like you’re down another Ranger. Too bad little Skullovitch wasn’t here to save his precious boytoy this time.”

“Fuck you, you cowardly piece of shit!” Zack screamed, calling forth his axe. “I’m going to send you back to hell where you came from!”

This bluster only made Drakkon laugh wildly.

“Look around, dumbass… We’re already there.”

A white and gold saber appeared in the tyrant’s gloved hand.

“I’m glad we’ve finally gotten the chance to chat again…I never had the opportunity to regale you with my little convergence of the twain… Jason’s agonizing death when he refused to submit…”

“Shut up!” Zack snarled, swinging the heavy weapon in a wide arc that Drakkon deftly dodged with a combat roll.

Giggling, the evil Ranger slashed his blade through the air in an arrogant display.

“I tried to be merciful, Zackary, for what’s it worth… a quick, painless snap of his neck… like a chicken in a barnyard or a bunny rabbit outside its warren. But he just wouldn’t hold still… until I beat that hard head of his like a punching bag.”

Grinning through his lies, Drakkon wished he could see the Black Ranger’s face as he made up the nastiest details he could imagine.

“I destroyed that disgusting red helmet and he still thrashed around like an animal in a snare, covered in piss when he lost control of his bladder and running into things because his eyeballs ruptured under my fists. It looked like raspberry jelly smeared down his cheeks… But I really thought that crack to his neck did the trick when he dropped like a ton of bricks!”

Roaring in fury, Zack charged again, locking his axe with Drakkon’s sword as the tyrant continued to fib.

“I reached down to take his coin, Black Ranger, and that silky little belly was moving up and down. He was still breathing, crying and begging for his ‘mommy’”, he sneered in disdain. “So, I did the kindest thing I could… I hacked him open and field dressed him like a deer, pulling his guts out while he tried to scream…”

His words were cut off when Zack’s fist collided squarely with the hybridized helmet, knocking Drakkon backward toward the drop off to the turbulent ocean below. The Black Ranger was too enraged to question the tyrant about some of the inconsistences in his gruesome tale, namely that if he had gutted Jason, Drakkon should have been painted with his scarlet blood instead of just what dripped from the Tyranno helmet.

“And Zordon got to witness the whole shameful thing!”

Zack’s vision misted over with tears, the vile meanness of what happened to Jason making him want to vomit. And that was when Drakkon ceased his possumy, demure antics and proceeded to maul the Black Ranger like a pit bull, a stunning about-face that left the teen reeling.

His Mastodon coin was savagely yanked from his belt, depowering him in a flash of crackling black light. Only the sudden interference from Kimberly saved him from a deadly blow by Drakkon’s sword, as the Pink Ranger’s arrow struck the tyrant’s leg, dropping him to one knee.

She’d overheard everything, every vile detail he had had spewed and after seeing Trini cuddling Billy’s mangled corpse in her arms, watching Zack’s helpless struggle, she could no longer hold back.

“You son of a bitch! I’m going to kill you! Gut you just like you did Jason, you sick fuck!” Kim screamed.

Reinforcements arriving vibrated the ground they cowered upon and time was up. At least for now.

Trini dashed into the bracken, her blood-soaked shirt clinging to her upper body and Billy’s Triceratops coin hidden in her bra. Zack foolishly snared Kim’s waist and hauled her off into the woods as Drakkon bellowed in pain, pulling himself to his feet.

He glared after the retreating former Rangers, then lifted his hand, waggling his fingers like a toddler.

“See ya later, alligator!”

The Mastodon and Saber tooth Tiger coins were clutched tightly in his palm, perfect additions for those clamoring for the opportunity to serve in his ranks. He grinned, satisfied he’d supplied enough nightmare fuel to keep Kimberly and Zack awake for years to come.

The loss of his coin, forcefully removed from his body instead of transferred to another, left Zack in the throes of physical withdrawal as he adjusted from the enhancements of the Grid back to a mere mortal human. His skin was clammy, drenched in sweat, and he suffered the shakes to the point he couldn’t even feed himself without help.

Not that it mattered much.

He vomited everything he put in his mouth anyway.

So, ultimately all he could do at that point in time was lay upon a pallet in a ramshackle farmer’s barn somewhere in the countryside, listening to the world go on outside its sun-faded red walls. Unable to get up, or sit up, or speak more than a few words at a time, even that was exhausting.

Zack had the distinct privilege of hearing Kimberly’s loud, enraged cursing, swearing, and threatening all manner of violence upon Lord Drakkon, rebuffing all who attempted to calm her down. Skull curled into a ball somewhere near the cow pasture, wailing and wishing death for himself at the loss of Billy as Bulk tried helplessly to protect him from his own hand.

Eventually, both the Pink Ranger and Eugene disappeared into the night some time down the road. Kim returned as the devil’s right hand warrior and Skull not at all, both to Farkas’s immense grief.

Loss after loss after loss after loss. A whole goddamn mountain of them. And Zack was unable to stem the tide. What more were waiting just around the corner? Who else was going to die?

Zack was still a child himself; they all were. He wished Jason were here because he’d know how to handle things. Then thoughts of his deceased leader coalesced into images of his brutal, bloody murder and then the teen couldn’t sleep for fear of closing his eyes.

He didn’t want to be strong, dammit! He wanted someone to comfort him, to take over, to make decisions, to be a fucking adult, to fix things, right all these impossible wrongs…

But there was no one who could mentally or physically extend themselves to another, as all were as depleted as he was.

So, Zack settled for what he could given the circumstances. He pulled a heavy, old blanket from some unknown room from wherever the fuck they’d ended up now and disappeared into the shadows. Wrapping himself snuggly in the scratchy material, he scrunched into as small a ball as he could manage, feeling like an egg in a nest or an infant being swaddled in his mother’s arms.

And from that cocoon of safety, Zack finally allowed himself to release the agonized tears he’d saved up beginning the day that Jason ‘died’.

#boom! comics power rangers #lord drakkon #world of the coinless jason #power rangers #world of the coinless zack taylor #world of the coinless kimberly hart #world of the coinless trini kwan #world of the coinless billy cranston #self soothing #self comfort #being too strong for too long #loss and grief #sadness

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