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viking-raider · 3 years

Text

The Immortal Sky - Part VII *Mature*

Summary: It’s a battle to survive and not everyone will make it.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 17,431

Rating: M - Dystopian!AU, Futuristic!AU, Language, Dark Themes: Severe Angst, Violence, Torture, Kidnapping, Traumatic Death, Blood, Life Threatening Injures, Severe Trauma, Life Changing Events, Hurt/Comfort, and a teeny bit of Fluff

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a futuristic fic!

Author’s Note: This is the final official Chapter of The Immortal Sky, I will be doing a short Epilogue to round things out though. I hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for all the love, comments and support! A super thanks to @wondersofdreaming for being a great support, listening to my crazy thoughts, giving me amazing suggestions and ideas, and just being an all around amazing friend!

You gasped, sitting up on your elbows, heart pounding and drenched in a cold sweat as the nightmare continued to dig its claws into your waking moments.

“Henry?” You called out, instinctively, before remembering he wasn't there.

Still.

Letting out a hard and shaky breath, you dropped back onto the mattress, damp from your sweat. You stared up at the ceiling, gripping the blankets in shaking fists as hot and furious tears dripped over your temples and into your hair.

“He isn't coming back.” You choked on your own snot. “They've captured and killed him, I just know it. He's died trying to protect me and there's nothing I can do to stop it. To make up for it, so his pain and death weren't in vain.” You took gasping breaths and only choked more on your tears. “I'm so sorry Henry. Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You wailed, crying without abandon.

You beat your fists on the mattress, outraged at your negativity and ease of giving up on him. Henry wouldn't have given up on you, he would have stayed strong and came for you, like he had when you ran away from him in London. Jerking up, you sat on the edge of the bed, the springs of the mattress creaking under your shifting weight.

“He's still alive.” You forced yourself to say out loud. “Henry is still alive, and I will find him.”

Resolved to this conviction, you stood up and dressed, pressing his shirt to your face and took a deep breath, inhaling his earthy and masculine scent, fortifying you, before slipping it on over your own shirt and finished tying your shoelaces. You weren't completely sure what to do or how to go about finding, and potentially saving, Henry. You weren't the amazing and seasoned High Marshal Henry was, is. You tried putting yourself in his shoes, hard as it was to fill size eleven boots. So, you started in the only place that made sense to you, the Black Bone pub, where your brother and his handler were known to frequent. So, locking your room, you trekked the six blocks from the hotel to the dingy pub, heart pounding in your throat as you entered.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked you as you approached the counter.

“Um,” You looked at the stained menu taped to the bar top. “A Virgin Mojito, please.”

The bartender lifted a brow at you, shrugged his shoulders and turned away from you. A minute later, he set the tall glass in front of you and held out his hand, wanting payment. Sighing, you dug out the meager change you had and slapped it into his hand, picked up your drink and took a seat in the corner, the same corner you occupied with Henry the day before.

You tried your best to look as inconspicuous as you possibly could, keeping your eyes on the tv, like Henry had, swirling your drink with the thin black straw inside of it and checking out everyone in the room from the corner of your vision. It was slightly more busy than it had been the morning before, but there was no sign of your brother, Knox or Henry. What your inexperienced eye failed to notice, was the bartender keeping his eye on you, for several minutes, before going to the back of the store room and making a phone call.

“Yeah, Ashe. It's me, Bruce, the owner of the Black Bone. You asked me to keep an eye out for a lady.” He rattled off your description. “Told me to call if I saw her around.”

“And?” Ashe replied, staring at the black, web-like, 3-D printed cast on the hand he busted in his fight with Henry.

“She's back.” Bruce told him, stepping out of the store room and peeking around the corner, to make sure you were still there, clearly ignoring your drink. “Sitting in a booth, right now.”

“Excellent.” Ashe grinned, wolfishly. “I'll be right over, let me know if she leaves.”

Bruce hung up with Ashe and moved back to serve his new customers, keeping his eye on you the whole time. You finally took a sip of your drink, the mint was refreshing to your taste-buds with the slight twinge of the lime's tartness, when the door of the pub chimed as it opened and from the corner of your eye you saw who entered, making your blood run cold, the man from the day before, who had given Henry the creeps and chased you both down the alleyway. Your hands shook as he glanced in your direction, a faint smirk on his thin lips, you noticed the cast on his arm and drew conclusions; knowing he and Henry must have gotten into a fight. Wishing you had the bartender put the rum into your drink after all, you gulped it down and tried to get up as casually and calmly as possible, eyes darting to the lopsided and hand written sign above the bathroom door and headed that direction.

The bathroom was big enough for a discolored and filthy toilet and a teeny window above that. Locking the bathroom door, you climbed top of the toilet, wobbling on the unstable tank to peek out the cloudy windowpane. There was another alleyway behind the pub, but you couldn't see where either end of it led out too, but you weren't going back out into the bar area with Ashe there, waiting to pounce on you. The window was wedged into the frame, sticking it into place from years of hard rains and freezing winters, swelling and warping the wood. Biting your lip, you started bashing it with the heel of your hand, the wood protesting and squeaking with each blow, until it suddenly flew open.

Glancing over your shoulder to the latched door as the dented handle started to rattle, you wasted no time, jumping and diving halfway through the window, legs flailing and kicking the dingy wall. Scrambling to get a footing and wiggle the rest of the way through the window, the rough wood scraping and cutting up your sides and ripping holes into your jacket. The bathroom door started to shake, a shoulder driving into it, you knew it wouldn't be long before Ashe busted through and hauled you out of the bathroom. Growling in frustration, you kicked hard at the wall, breaking through the crumbling drywall and used it to boost yourself up more. Punching more and more holes into the wall with your feet to you wiggle and shimmy through the window.

You gasped as your hips passed through the window frame and scrambled to get a footing on the other side, before you fell face first into a pile of two week old trash. You had just managed to flip yourself as you fell out of the window, landing on your butt on top of the overstuffed black plastic bags with a grunt. The eruption of Ashe charging through the bathroom door exploded above you, followed by his flurry of curses as his head popped through the window, the only thing small enough to fit through it.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared, pushing an arm through the window with his head to try and grab at you.

You struggled to your feet and stumbled away from Ashe and the window, out of breath and bleeding. Knowing he wasn't going to get through the window, Ashe jerked back inside and stormed out of the bathroom, shoving and knocking people aside as they came to see what all the commotion was about. Not waiting around for Ashe to reach you, you bolted down the alleyway, slipping on the slimy pavement and tripping over trash, just making it to the end, when two shadows blocked the way. Startled, you tried twisting around to run the other way, but they were faster than you were, grabbing the hood of your jacket and yanked you back, making you choke in the process.

“You ain't going anywhere.” One of them huffed as you were slammed chest first into the wall, scraping the side of your face on the rough surface.

Your arms were harshly yanked behind you and hands slipped through the loops of thick black cuffs, before your captor pressed a button on the handle connecting the cuffs and they automatically tightened around your wrists, painfully cutting off circulation and into your skin. They jerked you off the wall and faced you out of the alleyway, one of them clamped a hand down on your shoulder, making you whimper in pain and try to shrink away from him, only to be struck in the side.

“You should have stayed in London.” Ashe's angry voice growled as he approached the three of you, pinching your chin between his fingers. “Or just not have been born at all.” He hissed, letting go of your head with a jerk. “Get her in the van.” He ordered the two men, hitching a thumb over his shoulder, to the van parked at the curb, its back sliding door open and waiting.

You looked up and down the sidewalk as they pushed and shoved you towards the van, frantically hoping someone would see the four of you and rush to help you, stop them for kidnapping you. But, as you looked at the full street, you noticed everyone looking everywhere but at you, not wanting to get involved, knowing doing so would land them in the same hot water you were finding yourself in. But, to your utter shock, one face did look back at you, just as stunned to see you as you were to see them.

“Michail.” You mouthed, blinking like it was just a fragment of your frantic mind. “Mikey!” You screamed out, realizing it wasn't your mind toying with you, before you were thrown into the van and the door was slammed shut behind you.

“Let's go grab a pint.” Knox said, throwing on his jacket. “Come on, Keagan, one pint won't kill you. We have a load of time before your first big run.”

Michail sighed and rubbed at his face, his back ached from hunching over the map of his first run as an Adjutant Runner for Quinn. He had been staring at it non-stop for two weeks and the run was due to happen in three days. But, Knox was right, an hour's break to enjoy a frothy pint at the pub would do him and his brain some good. So, stiffly raising from his chair, he grabbed his own jacket and followed Knox to the lift and down the four floors to the ground floor and out onto the street. They chatted about the run as they walked down to the Black Bone, Knox's usual establishment for a good pint, hammering out more details and clearing up any misunderstanding about what was to go down, once it did happen.

But, they were interrupted by a small scuffle ahead of them, near the pub.

Looking away from each other and to the altercation, they saw three sizable men roughly handling a woman, her hands tied behind her back. Michail felt the breath in his lungs freeze and his heart drop out into his stomach as he met the woman's eye, watching her mouth his name, before yelling it out.

“Mikey!”

“Issy?” He whispered back, too stunned to manage anything louder before you were manhandled into the van.

“You know that woman, Mike?” Knox asked, his eyes panning between the speeding away van and him.

“She's my sister.” Mikey replied, his mouth hanging open, shocked and speechless to not only find you in Bristol, but being carted away by those ruffians. “But, she should be back in London.” He blinked, slowly regaining himself. “What the hell is she doing here in Bristol? Do you know who those guys were?” He asked, looking at Knox.

“Only one of them.” Knox replied, narrowing his eyes. “The blond is Ashe James, he works as a free agent, working several different jobs in every Sector.”

“Why would he take my sister like that?” Mikey asked himself, deeply troubled.

“We'll find out later, let's get that pint.” Knox answered, clasping Mikey on the back and pushed him towards the pub.

Henry spit nothing, but blood, as Emilio gave him another crack punch to the face; which was multicolored and inflamed. A cut high on the bridge of his bloody nose and upper lip, his bottom lip was split and bleeding as well, blood caked in his beard and curls, as well as his chest; soaking into the fabric of his jeans. His eyes burned from the unyielding and bright lights illuminating the room. He was spent and exhausted, leaning forward with his head lulling and eyes half rolled and swollen shut. A forest of marks and box cutter cuts littered his body, partiality around the surgical site of his artificial kidney. He was more than sure every one of his ribs were broken or cracked, making him wheeze and hiss with every breath he took.

Henry wasn't sure how much more of he could take, but that didn't mean he would break.

“I don't think you have much more blood in you, mate?” Emilio huffed, shaking his throbbing hand, his fingers puffy and bruised from hitting Henry so many times. “Usually, the people I—set straight—have given up by now. But, no. Not you, you're tough. I respect that.” He said, shrugging his sore shoulders.

“To a point.” He chuckled, slapping Henry in the back of the head, making him whimper. “Why don't you tell my boss where the girl is? Then, we can let you off. But, if you don't, you'll just end up dying here.”

Henry remained quiet, he had run out of witty and smart-ass comments hours before. So, he kept his mouth shut and reserved his energy and strength to withstand their assault on him. The one saving light was the thought of you safe and sound in your room. He knew, by now, you were freaking out and panicking. There were no clocks and only one mirror that Henry knew, without a doubt, was a two way, but he could catch a glimpse of Emilio's expensive watch. He had been in the room for nearly twelve hours, all night and most of the morning.

He sighed, grimacing as he swallowed another mouthful of blood that was pooling in his mouth from his bloody nose, cut lip and the cuts on the inside of his cheeks; his stomach cramped and twisted as he swallowed it down, adding to his discomfort. His mind started to wonder, his pain was beginning to numb his battered nerve-endings, he wondered how much longer he would survive, what blow would potentially kill him.

He counted each blow.

One.

Two.

Three.

The door came flying open and Benji waltzed in, the door slamming closed behind him, as he grinned and looked chipper after getting a good night's rest, having left not long after Henry's torture started. But, he seemed overly happy, too happy, for Henry to be comfortable with, he knew something. That's when Henry's fear finally spiked and his abused body tensed and his bloodshot, blue orbs widened with panic, showing that growing ounce of fear outwardly for the first time.

“Well, Mr. Cavill, I see that you are still alive!” Benji quipped with an amused smile, grabbing the back of Henry's sweaty and bloody curls, and jerked his head back, roughly. “I am quite impressed by your stamina. I bet the ladies love it.” He teased, lowering himself to meet Henry's gaze.

“I have a surprise for you, Henry.” He cooed, menacingly, his brown eyes darkening to a black hole of evil and danger. “I'm quite sure you'll be relieved to see it.” He said softly, running a finger over the freshly bleeding cut on Henry's brow, making him hiss as heavy beads of sweat mixed into it, then straightened up.

“Bring it in!” He yelled, moving away from Henry and turned towards the two way mirror.

The door swung open again, revealing Ashe, who pressed his back against it, to keep it open, and motion into the hall for someone to come forward. Henry's shoulders fell with his face, the last bit of his strength he had draining out of him as you were shoved into the room, stumbling and almost falling if Ashe hadn't grabbed the handle of your zip cuffs and steadied you.

Your mouth dropped open seeing the pitiful and terrifying condition Henry was in, covered in blood, bruises, cuts and god knows what else. You struggled to swallow down your throbbing heart and blinked back the searing tears that burned your eyes, biting hard into your lip to keep yourself from falling apart. Henry licked his split and chapped lips and blinked slowly at you, trying to keep himself together, but not to cry, but to not lose his temper, his muscles flexing as his anger flared and surged beneath his blue and purple, blood covered skin, straining in his restraints, like a bull seeing red.

“Two very different reactions.” Benji commented, watching the pair of you through the two-way mirror. “Interesting.” He hummed, turning on the heels of his expensive dress shoes. “I've been looking for you.” He said, stepping closer to you. “Thank you for making it so easy to find and get a hold of you.”

He smiled, touching the tip of his finger to your cheek and drew a smiley face on it.

In Henry's blood.

“Release her hands.” He ordered, snapping his fingers.

“Boss, is that a good idea?” Ashe asked, hesitating with the key to your cuffs. “She's pretty cunning.”

Benji's cool broke and slapped Ashe across the face, ripping the key out of his hand and releasing the cuffs from around your wrists. “I know what she is, you moron. But, what is she going to do? They're in my house, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of my men. Even if, they managed to get out of this room, they wouldn't make it out of the hall, before we either killed or incapacitated them. So,” He smirked at you, giving you a sour taste in your mouth.

“Let's leave them be.” He chuckled, making a motion with his hand and cleared the room, other than you and Henry.

You stood frozen for several moments, unable to move as you and Henry stared at each other, your silent tears finally escaping down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Henry.” You sniffled, gulping thickly.

Henry closed his eyes and sighed, groaning and gently shaking his head. He knew, he knew you had left the room to come look for him, the guilt and evidence of it was all over your face. “It's all right.” He finally replied, his voice dry and raspy. “I know you were scared.”

“I was worried.” You whimpered, slowly approaching him. “I still am.” You told him, dropping to your knees before him, looking over his battered body. “I'm sorry, Henry. I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me. Least of all, you.”

Your emotions started to overwhelm you, reaching out to gently cup his face in your shaking palms and pushed up on your toes to touch your forehead to his temple. Henry frowned and nudged your face with his, trying to give you what comfort he could, while still tied to the chair. Your wet cheek smeared more blood on the both of you, as you wrapped your arms loosely around his bare waist.

“I told you to wait for me.” He whispered, meeting your damp eyes.

“I tried.” You protested, pulling back from him. “But, I-” You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“I told you, I'd come back for you.”

“How?” You snapped, incredulous. “You're tied to a fucking chair and practically bleeding to death!”

Henry narrowed his eyes at you. “I'll be fine, I just needed more time. I've done this before.” He told you, shaking his head, then regretting it.

“That doesn't make me feel any better or convince me, Henry.” You replied with a huff. “How are we going to get out of here?” You asked, lowering your voice, sure they were eavesdropping.

“I'll think of something.” Henry answered, looking around the room, but there was very little to aid you in that endeavor. “Just stay strong for me.” He added, turning his face into yours, his chapped lips brushing your ear.

“Nugget.”

Benji stood in the room adjoined to the interrogation room you and Henry were held in, watching the two of you interact and talk, when a phone started to ring. Flexing his hands, Benji turned on his men, glaring each of them in the eyes until one of them shied away from his gaze.

“Answer it, Luis.” He hissed at the smaller man. “Now!” He roared, making everyone flinch.

Luis slipped a shaking hand into his pocket and pulled out his mobile, flipping it open and answering it. “Hello?” He squeaked, his voice high pitched with fright. “Um,--” He shuttered, eyes glued to Benji. “It's Monroe, Sir. He's asking about the girl, why she was nabbed this morning.” He explained, holding his phone out to Benji.

“Knox!” Benji roared into the receiver. “Why are you asking about the girl?” He demanded.

“My new Runner, they know each other.” Knox replied, cool as ice, he was used to Benji's outbursts. “We saw Ashe and the boys dragging her out of the Black Bone, she saw us too, and called out Keagan's name. When I asked how she knew him, he answered that she was his sister.”

“Her brother?” Benji said slowly, turning back to the mirror and staring at you as you huddled close to Henry. “Bring him to me, I want you here within the hour.”

“You got it, boss.” Knox replied, hanging up.

“The bubble of intrigue just keeps growing around this girl.” He said, studying you. “I love it.”

“I just got a call from headquarters.” Knox said as he approached Mikey at their table. “We need to go in, they're having a Runner meeting we need to attend to get the new details on our run in a couple days.” He explained.

“All right.” Mikey nodded, wiping the foam off his upper lip as he finished off his pint. “Are we going straight there?” He asked, standing up.

“Yep.” Knox nodded, clapping him on the back and directing him to the door, waving to the bartender as they left.

They hailed a cab to the Hernandez building, it was the tallest building in all of Bristol, showing the power, presence and money they had, running their empire of drugs and violence. The twenty minute ride there was quiet, and Knox almost felt bad for Mikey, knowing the kid had zero clue what was about to happen to him, but he wasn't sorry for the fact he was related to you, who could possibly bring down the business that kept him employed and out of the Slums.

“Mr. Hernandez is expecting us.” Knox told the receptionist at the front desk.

Nodding her head, the receptionist picked up her phone, dialed a number and waited for it to pick up. “Mr. Monroe to see you, sir.” She said, then hung up. “He'll meet you at lift number three.” She told Knox, then returned to her paperwork.

“Come on, Keagan.” Knox called, motioning Mikey to follow him.

Mikey followed him, unaware and naive to what was about to happen to him, to what was waiting for him, as the lift doors slid open and revealed Benji and Ashe. It was seeing Benji and Ashe that Mikey got a strange feeling in his stomach, but he ignored it, figuring it was just nervous jitters from meeting the most powerful man in Bristol.

“Knox.” Benji smiled at his prized Runner, then settled his cold eyes on Mikey. “Mr. Keagan, how nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much.”

“All good, I hope.” Mikey gulped.

“Of course.” Benji chuckled, motioning for the two men to step into the lift with them. “Let's go to my office to speak.” He suggested.

The ride in the lift was silent and stiff, no one speaking or moving, not even making eye contact for the several minutes the ride took, until the ding announced their arrival to the floor and the sleek metal doors slid open. Benji stepped off first, followed by Knox and Mikey, with Ashe bringing up the rear. They walked down a long hallway and Benji stopped beside a door, scanned a key card and pushed it open, motioning for Mikey to go in first, wanting to see his reaction as he entered.

Biting his lip, Mikey did as he was told, a nervous sweat breaking out on his brow as he moved into the dark room, noticing the wall length window to one side. He stopped in front of it, looking through the two way mirror and felt his jaw and heart hit the floor.

“Issy.” He gasped, seeing you pacing the bright room, then noticed the large and beaten male tied to the chair in the room as well.

His shoulders slumped as it all clicked in his head, he had been lied to too and was now as much a prisoner as you and Henry were. A cold sweat broke out all over his body and his hands started to shake, gulping several times to try and keep his composure.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked, eyes snapping to Benji as he watched Ashe lock and block the door, leaving Knox in the hallway.

“Who is that girl to you?” Benji asked, lightly tapping the glass of the mirror. “And answer truthfully.”

Mikey steeled himself. “I don't know.” He huffed, puffing out his chest.

Benji rolled his jaw and banged on the mirror, grabbing Emilio's attention. Smirking, Emilio pushed himself off the door he had been leaning against and strode over to you, startling you and making you stubble away from him.

“NO!” Henry and Mikey both screamed at the same time as Emilio grabbed you roughly by the hair, yanking your head backward and making you cry out as he shoved you closer to the mirror.

“Who is she to you?” Benji asked again, slowly.

“A friend.” Mikey whimpered, clenching his fists together as he felt and saw your pain.

Benji knocked on the window again. This time, Emilio twisted you around by the hair and slammed your back up against the mirror and wrapped his meaty hand around your slender neck. Henry jerked and squirmed in his chair, roaring with madness and cursing loudly as Emilio choked you, trying desperately to break free and pull him off of you, before it was too late.

“Stop!” Henry roared, letting his anger and frustration out in a violent scream. “Let her go! Do it to me!” He begged Emilio. “Let her be!”

Mikey doubled over, his hands braced on his thighs as he gasped for air, like a goldfish out of it's tank. “Please, stop this.” He begged Benji, in a wheeze.

Benji tilted his head as he watched Mikey, watching his distress as it mirrored your own. Curiously, he banged on the mirror again and Emilio, still choking you with one hand, drove the fist of his other into your stomach, making you yelp around his hand, incapable of more as you struggled for air. Mikey stumbled back into a shelf behind him, nearly losing his footing. Benji's fingers caught the underside of Mikey's chin and jerked his head back, thick strings of drool on his lips and chin.

“Tell me who she is to you?” He hissed in his face.

“Please.” Mikey begged him, weakly.

“Tell me, and I'll make him stop.” Benji told him, his face twisted with smug malice.

Mikey whimpered, hearing you struggling and Henry's desperate protests. “She's my sister.” He broke. “My twin sister.” He admitted, weakly.

“Your twin?” Benji echoed, intrigued. “So, you feel what she feels. Does she feel what you do, I wonder.” He let go of Mikey and knocked on the mirror twice, signaling Emilio to release you, which he did, causing you to collapse to the floor. “Ashe, go in there and tell me if she feels anything from him.” He ordered, keeping his eyes on Mikey.

Nodding, Ashe left the room and entered yours and Henry's, nodding at the mirror, so Benji knew he was in position. Smiling, Benji promptly drove his knee into Mikey's stomach and looked behind him and saw Ashe smirking and chuckling to himself.

“The connection between twins.” Benji laughed, amused to all ends. “I love it. Let's have a proper little family reunion, shall we!” He declared and motioned to Luis to grab Mikey. “Bring him.” He ordered, marching out of the room. “Good news everybody!” He declared, bursting into the room with you and Henry.

“It's family time!” He laughed, as Luis shoved Mikey into the room with the two of you.

“Mikey.” You coughed and rasped, holding your bruised neck.

“Issy.” He rasped back, crawling over to you. “Where have you been?” He asked, cupping your face in his shaking hands. “We thought you were dead.”

“I went looking for you, to try and patch things up with our parents, after the fight.” You explained, fresh tears dripping down your face. “But, I was caught by the Traffickers and was held by them. Henry,” You looked up at him, still straining in the chair, his blue eyes wild. “he saved me and I've been with him the whole time.”

Mikey blinked up at Henry, then narrowed his eyes at him. “Saved you?” He echoed your words, but not your sentiments and appreciation. “The only reason a person goes into a Trafficker's warehouse, if they're not merchandise, is to buy.” He hissed, his face darkening. “You bought my sister from a fucking Trafficker. Typical Upper, buying and enslaving us just because we were born in a lower Sector than you.”

“Mikey, it wasn't like that?” You panted, shaking your head at him, desperate for him to understand.

“How can you fucking defend him!” Mikey barked, gritting his teeth at you. “Unless he's already brainwashed you, convinced you that owning you didn't make you any different than him.”

“I don't own her.” Henry growled, low in his throat.

“Is that so!”

“It is!” You barked back, regaining yourself. “He never registered me for an Ownership Bracelet. Henry's never treated me like a Slave, or even a Slummer, for that matter. He's been good to me, Mikey.” You told him, cupping his tense neck in your hands and pressed your forehead to his. “He's been helping me to find you.” You whispered to him, holding his eyes.

“He's been protecting me.” You said quieter.

“I was originally meant to follow her until you were found, then bring you both back to London.” Henry added, his eyes on you. “So, she could testify against him.” He jerked his chin at Benji. “and to turn you in for your part in the Running business. But,” He paused and sighed. “But, I changed my mind and decided to just help her bring you back home, safely. Make up some story about why I didn't bring you in, then once she testified, I was going to release her to go back home to your family.” He explained.

Mikey opened his mouth to ask why a High Marshal would bother to do something like that, when he finally felt it, a warmth that came from you, and met your eyes and saw the cause of your warmth, towards Henry. You were in love with the High Marshal, and looking to Henry, he could tell that Henry felt just as strongly about you.

“I've been a complete brainless prick.” Mikey sighed, feeling guilty, if he hadn't decided to become a Runner, then none of this would have happened, the two of you and Henry would still be safe and sound in London, going about your lives as should be.

“I'm sorry, Issy.”

“Well, you're just a stupid boy, what do you know anyway.” You huffed, smiling softly and shrugging it off.

“Well, isn't this all well and sweet.” Benji huffed pushing off the wall.

“But, we all have an issue. The three of you are a threat to my business.” He said, folding his arms. “You, High Marshal, are on the case that threatens my business. You,” He looked at Mikey. “Being a Runner, know the routes and procedures of my business, and you,” He settled his eyes on you. “Are the witness to my operations and hold the key to ruining my business in London and putting away one of my best Traffickers.”

“I can't let you live.” He said, looking at the three of you. “So, we're going to play a fun little game.” He smirked, greedy and giddy, as he rubbed his hands together. “Luis, your gun.” He ordered, holding his hand out to the other man. “Ashe draw yours as well, and Emilio, why don't you untie Mr. Cavill over there, we do out number them with people and firearms, so I doubt either of them will be stupid enough to try something.” He said, motioning Emilio towards Henry.

Obeying, Emilio removed the key to Henry's bonds from his front pocket, while Ashe had his gun trained on him, anticipating any attempt Henry, you or Mikey might make to try and be a savior. Emilio unlocked the ties around Henry's chaffed ankles, then his wrists. Henry let out a relieved sigh as the strain and tension of his shoulders and arms released, almost slumping out of the chair.

“Henry!” You gasped, dashing forward to try and catch him.

“Ah, no!” Benji barked, stopping you in your tracks. “Leave him be.” He hissed at you. “Get up, Cavill.” He demanded of Henry. “Now, or I'll start putting holes in her!”

Groaning, Henry forced himself to stand, swaying on his throbbing and injured legs and almost falling, but caught himself on the back of the chair. Assured that Henry would be able to reasonably stand, then took the gun Luis was still holding out to him, Benji removed the clip from the firearm, checking how many rounds it had, reloaded the clip and cocked the slide, securing a bullet into the chamber.

“Take it.” He snapped, holding it out to you.

“No.” You whimpered, shaking your head and taking a step away from him.

“You either take it, or I kill all three of you now, starting with the High Marshal, then your dear brother and you last, so you can watch as your brother and the man you love, die.” He threatened, with an eerie calm.

Taking a shuddering breath, you stepped forward again and, with a shaky hand, took the heavy weapon from Benji's hand. You looked at Henry and Mikey with wide and frightened eyes, visibly shaking with terror. They both looked back at you with the same fright and worry.

“So, this is our game.” Benji grinned, licking his lips, like an evil serpent. “You get to choose who dies first, and get the honor of killing them.” He told you, grinning sinisterly.

“No.” You whimpered, slowly shaking your head. “No, I can't. Please, I can't.” You begged him, trembling, and staring down at the gun, like you expected it to swallow you.

“None of you are going to leave this room alive. So, you might as well put each other out of your own misery.” Benji tried to reason with you. “Do you want them to suffer because of your selfishness?”

“Don't listen to him.” Henry snapped, drawing your attention. “You don't need to do this, just give me the gun.” He told you, reaching out a hand to you.

“He's right, Issy. You don't.” Mikey agreed, holding his own hand out. “Just give it to one of us, we'll figure this out.”

Both Henry and Mikey knew why Benji had given you the gun. You would never have considered hurting anyone, with or without the firearm; unlike Henry and Mikey, who would.

Your eyes darted back and forth between them, unsure who to give it to. What would Henry do, if you were to give him the gun? Would he manage to kill Benji, Ashe, Luis and Emilio before they could do any real damage to the three of you? What about Mikey? Did your brother even know how to use a gun? What would he do once he had it? Should you even give it to them? What if one of them turned on the other, what if Henry turned on Mikey? He had originally been sent after you to bring you back to testify and take care of Mikey, because of his involvement with Benji and Bristol. Would Mikey try to kill Henry, because he was a High Marshal, maybe try to save face and show Benji he could be trusted, to save himself, and maybe you too.

You knew neither of them would turn on you or harm you in any way. You weren't afraid of them; you were afraid for them, and what they might do if they had the gun themselves.

It took all you had not to throw up, then and there. Everyone was staring at you waiting for your decision, but you couldn't decide, you wouldn't decide. You loved Henry and you loved your brother, you would rather kill yourself than one of them; and it was as if they sensed your mind go in that direction, for both Henry and Mikey jerked towards you, startling you.

“No!” Henry hissed, his eyes wide with panic. “Don't you dare.” He panted heavily, spots in his eyes as his advanced blood loss started to take its toll on him, on top of everything else going on. “Don't you dare turn that gun on yourself.” He whispered, half begging and half ordering you.

“Listen to him, Issy.” Mikey agreed, nodding his head. “Don't harm yourself. We can figure this out.” He said, eyeballing Benji over your shoulder.

Tears dripped down your face, like a waterfall after a heavy rain, it was too much, it was all too overwhelming for you to take. Mikey looked between you and Henry, he saw the absolute terror and worry in Henry's eyes, his pupils eating away the cobalt blue and speck of brown of his irises. Your own blown out pupils doing the same as you started back at him. It was something that Mikey wasn't used to. When things became scary and too much, it had always been him that you looked to in those moments, but this time, it was Henry you were seeking comfort and protection from.

“You fucking prick!” Mikey growled, trying to lung at Benji.

“Ah ah!” Benji barked back, grabbing Luis's wrist and forcing him to point his gun at you. “If either of you try and act a hero, Luis will kill her, out right.” He warned, meeting Mikey and Henry's eyes.

Biting his lip, Mikey took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, Benji had the three of you cornered. He was forcing you to kill one of the men you loved with your own life, while stopping Henry and Mikey from trying to save the day, by threatening to kill you, knowing they both would die to keep you safe.

What a twisted and poisonous web that was being weaved in the room. But, sooner or later, the strings of that web would start to snap and unravel, taking all of you with it.

Mikey took a hesitating step forward, his heart pounding and choked inside of his throat, his eyes daring between you, Benji and Luis. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, feeling the weight of the gun you held in that hand. The pounding pulse in your wrist drummed against Mikey's fingers, and he felt his own heart become attuned with yours. From the day the two of you came into the world, you several minutes before him, the pair of you were in sync, but as you grew older, you became less so. You had taken the right path, following the law, doing the job assigned to you, making the best of the life you had been dealt, without a complaint. While Mikey rebelled and became restless, wanting to be more, wanting the people he loved to be and have more than you already did, failing to see the wealth he already had, in you, your parents and little brother.

It was too late now to go back and fix those things, to see and cherish them properly, like Mikey now realized he should have.

The two of you synced together, heart beats the same steady, but pounding rate, breathing heavy and as one, flowing in a way that only twins could. You read his face, like it was the page of an open book and knew what he was doing. Your hand grasped the grip of the gun tighter, eyes widening and head softly shaking.

It's all right, Issy. His face and eyes said to you.

No. Your eyes begged back, blinded by collecting tears. Not like this. Don't do this. I can't live without you, Mikey.

You'll be fine, Sis.

He looked away from you, to Henry, who stood there, supporting himself on the back of the chair he had spent hours being tortured in. Henry looked back at Mikey, confused, just like everyone else in the room to what was transpiring between you, narrowing his eyes and frowning, shaking his head at Mikey, wanting to understand. But, Mikey looked back to you, squeezing your wrist and pressing his free hand to your chest.

You have the High Marshal to care for and protect you now. His eyes said to you. And he'll do a better job at it. He can give you the love, life and protection you need and deserve in life.

You shook your head at him, eyes screaming at him. Don't do this! What about our parents? Our little brother? What will I tell them? They will be crushed.

I'm no good and we both know this. Let me do this, and prove I still have some good left in me.

His hand slowly slipped down yours, gently prying your fingers from around the gun's grip, carefully taking it from you. Your hands shot out, gripping Mikey by the sleeves, one last plea for him to reconsider, to help you and Henry find a different plan and outcome, to give it a chance. But, he shook his head and took your arm in his free hand, leaned in to kiss your cheek, then gently shoved you in Henry's direction. Henry just managed to catch you before you stumbled over your feet, and himself from falling as well, blinking between you and Mikey, starting to realize what was going on.

“Mikey, n--” You started to scream as he raised the muzzle to his temple.

Henry's thick arms wrapped around you, somehow mustering the strength to hold you back as you struggled and thrashed in his embrace, trying desperately to stop what was about to happen.

A loud pop and a high pitched ringing filled your ears, muting out all other sounds that were being made, the sounds of your scream that you only knew was happening by how sore it made your throat, the warm spray of droplets against your face and neck, the world ending sight of your brother crumbling to the ground, the gun falling from his limp hand and slid across the blood covered floor, spinning under the chair at Henry's foot.

But, the chaos didn't stop there.

As Mikey hit the floor, Ashe came to life, using the distraction of Mikey's decision, to pull the gun out of his back waistband, smoothly flipping off the safety with his thumb, cocked and pointed it at Luis. All of it was in slow-motion, ears still screaming, as another pop filled the room, this time taking out Luis. Henry's body tensed up against yours as he watched Luis instinctively pull the trigger of his own weapon, the bullet whizzing towards you both. Henry wrapped his arms completely around you and threw you both down onto the floor; caging you in with his heavy and bloody body, using himself as a human shield as more muffled shots rang out.

You felt Henry's body jerk once against yours and the hot breath of him groaning against your neck, then a searing pain in your thigh, before the room went quiet and dark.

You started to come back around to the sound of Henry yelling your name, above the ringing that was still filling your ears and mind. You shook your throbbing head, feeling him pat your cheeks, trying to get you to open your eyes and respond to him.

“Can you hear me?” Henry asked, blinking down at you.

You blinked back up at him, only catching every other word he said. “A little bit.” You wheezed back, your thigh felt like an overfilled, hot water bottle as it throbbed.

“Good.” He nodded, then looked down the length of your body, just then noticing the slow puddle of blood pooling around your leg and cursed. “You've been hit.” He huffed, wrestling with his body's want to panic, but kept calm.

Spotting the tattered remains of his shirt, that Emilio had cut off, Henry grabbed it. “This is going to hurt, but, I need to control the bleeding before you lose too much.” He explained, carefully bringing your leg up, then wrapping the strip of his shirt around your thigh, just above the bullet wound, and tied it off as tightly as he could without causing any more complications.

You winced and whined as he did, gripping his bicep and digging your nails into his skin. “What happened?” You asked, out of breath, you couldn't see most of the room, Henry's body blocking your view, mostly on purpose.

“It seems, we have a friend.” Henry replied looking over his shoulder to Ashe. “We're going to get out of here.” He told you, fussing over your wound as a thin and steady stream of blood continued to flow from it, tightening his shirt more.

“We can't leave without--” You paused, remembering. “Oh god, Henry!” You gasped, it all rushed back to you.

“I know.” He frowned at you, crushed.

“We have to take him with us.”

“We can't.” Henry whispered, licking his cracked lips. “It'll slow us down.” He told you as carefully as he could. “I'll get him back for you. When we get back to London, I promise you.” He said, helping you sit up.

“Henry--” You sobbed, throwing your arms around his neck and buried your face into his sweaty and sticky chest.

“I know, love. I am so so sorry.” He whimpered in your ear, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed.

“We need to go.” Ashe's rushed voice came from the door. “Now, before the alarms go off.” He said, looking back into the hall.

He felt for you, he really did, never expecting all of this to happen, but now that it had, the three of you needed to put as many kilometers and as much time between you and Bristol as you could, because Benji's men would be coming after you in no time.

“Come on.” Henry grunted, pulling himself up to his feet and taking you with him, wrapping your arm around his neck, to support you out of the room.

Your breath caught in your throat as Henry helped you stand up, seeing Mikey's body laying there in a large pool of blood, but also Luis, Emilio and Benji's bodies as well. In the chaos of Mikey taking his own life to save you and Henry, Ashe had sprung, pulling his weapon and dispatching them in the confusion. Luis and Emilio let off several rounds from their own guns, one of them nicking Henry in the side and another going through your thigh.

“Is he on our side?” You wheezed, as you and Henry followed him down the hall.

“Yeah.” Henry nodded, shifting you against his side as you started to slip. “He's a Alpha Marshal, from London.” He explained to your questioning brow lift

“How did you not know that?” You asked him, frowning, you figured since Henry was a High Marshal, he would know all of the other Marshals.

“He finished Marshal training four years before I went in, and was recruited straight out of it to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and climb the ladder as far as he could. Seems he got as high as being Benji Hernandez's personal enforcer.” He explained, stopping as Ashe secured the hallway around the corner.

“Which is damn lucky for the two of you.” Ashe commented, coming back. “The way is clear, there's a back service lift that goes down to the garage. I have a car there we can use to get the fuck out of Bristol.”

“Let's go.” Henry nodded, antsy.

You looked back down the hall, to the still open door to the room that held all that carnage, and shuttered. Henry looked at you, feeling the shiver and frowned, reaching up to brush your hair out of your sweaty and bloody face. He couldn't understand the level of pain and anguish you must be in, after watching your brother commit suicide to save you. But, he knew that Mikey would want him to protect you and get you the hell out of there, with or without his body, and that's what Henry planned on doing.

“You can do this.” He whispered to you, blood crusted fingertips brushing your cheek. “He would want you too.” He added even softer.

“I know.” You gulped down tears, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “Let's go, before I lose my nerve.” You said, looking away from the door.

Nodding his head, you and Henry supported each other down the hall to the lift, leaning against the wall as it went down to the dark underground garage. Finding Ashe's car, he unlocked it and helped you and Henry get inside, before rushing around to the driver's side, tearing out of the garage and onto the street.

“Here.” You sighed and removed your torn and filthy jacket, revealing Henry's shirt beneath it, and took it off, seeing Henry's shiver.

“Thanks.” Henry whimpered, carefully pulling the shirt on his sore and battered torso. “How are we getting out of here, Ashe?”

“There's a gate out of this Sector that most of Benji's top men use for dealing with business outside of Bristol. I know the guard that works it, he'll let us through and keep his mouth shut.” Ashe explained, keeping his eyes on the road. “From there, I'll drop you both off at the drop location I use for sending my information into London.”

“What Sector is that in?” Henry asked, checking your makeshift tourniquet.

“Three.” Ashe replied, slowing his car down as they approached the gate he spoke about. “Let me do the talking.” He said over his shoulder, rolling his window down as a stocky male with a semi-automatic weapon approached the driver's side.

“James, it's been awhile. How have you been?” He asked, staring through the open driver's window.

“Been all right.” Ashe replied casually, as if nothing was amiss, like the two bleeding people in his backseat. “I need to run an errand outside the city, if you don't mind opening the gate and letting me through.”

“Sure thing.” the guard replied, chipper and oblivious to you and Henry, unable to see through the black tinted windows.

Stepping away from Ashe's car, the guard moved into a small booth beside the gate, turning a key and held down a large red button. The large and scuffed up gate groaned to life, screeching and protesting as it slid out of the way, revealing barren land and an uneven road on the other side. Waving back as the guard waved Ashe through the gate, he drove through, letting out a relieved breath as the gate closed behind you, everything so far going smooth.

“It's a two and half hour drive to your drop off location.” Ashe said, breaking the silence.

“That's fine.” Henry replied. “It took us nearly a week to walk here.” He added with a huff, that felt like a year ago at this point.

“What about you?” You asked Ashe. “What will you do now? Will you not come into London with us?” You inquired, interested, since his life and the long years he spent undercover in Bristol was now blown apart because of you, Henry and Mikey.

“I'm not originally from London.” Ashe replied, stiffly. “I'm from Chester. My father was killed in an accident and my mother couldn't take care of me. So, she had a smuggler bring me to London where I have a wealthy aunt. She took me in, adopted me and raised me as her own son, enabling me to have a better life. With her connections, I was able to attend the Marshal Council Academy, graduated top of my class and was recruited directly out of training to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and the Hernandez family. I've been there ever since, running and doing whatever job Benji and his family tell me too, while sending the information back to London and half of the money I make back to my mum in Chester.”

“I've wanted to return to Chester for a long time, I haven't seen my mother, in person, since I was eight. So, I plan to go back there, after I drop the two of you off.”

“Won't they go looking for you there?” You asked, concerned for him, you had dragged so many people into this mess.

“No, as far as they know, all my family is dead.” He answered, glancing at you in the rear-view mirror. “My backstory was I was orphaned as a baby and raised on the streets of London, where I got in with Runners and came to Bristol to be more big time. So, I don't know who my parents are, let alone, know if I have any other family or where.”

“And they believed that?”

“For more than a decade.” Ashe chuckled, smiling at you.

The rest of the drive was quiet, you and Henry huddled together in the backseat, Henry's heavy head resting on your shoulder. His eyes were closed, but he didn't find any sleep, still too worked up to find it with the state you both were in. You rested your cheek on the top of his head and closed your own eyes, your head still throbbed and your leg was on fire, but had stopped bleeding so much. Both of you were worn, spent and weak, desperately needing proper medical attention and rest after everything that had happened.

“Henry?” You whispered softly into his messy curls.

“Hm?” He hummed back.

“What are we going to say, when we get back to London?” You asked him, biting your lip.

Henry sighed, picking up his head as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed his lips to your temple. That had been brewing in his mind for the last hour, trying to figure out how to explain all your injuries and absence to everyone that asked. The only person that truly knew the nature of your and Henry's disappearance was Reyes, and he didn't know what Reyes would do when the pair of you showed back up in London in the sorry state you were in, and without Mikey.

“We'll cross that road, when we get there, love.” He finally replied, kissing your temple again.

You crossed that road an hour and a half later, when Ashe pulled up to a door that had been built into the wall of Sector Three. He helped you and Henry out of the car and approached the door with you, pointing out an intercom box beside the door.

“The code is 8391, it'll ring whoever is working the door today, they'll come down and ask for credentials, tell them you're a High Marshal and you'll get all the assistance you need.” He explained to you, heading back towards his car.

“Ashe!” Henry called after him, before he could get into the car and leave. “Thank you.” He said, when Ashe turned back.

“We're Marshals, we're trained to look out for each other.” Ashe replied, nodding his head to you both and got into his car.

Henry waited until Ashe's car disappeared from sight, before limping up to the door and pressed in the code Ashe had given you. A buzzer went off and five minutes later, the door opened, revealing a Beta Marshal, who frowned between you and Henry.

“High Marshal Henry Cavill.” Henry told him, as the Beta Marshal started to open his mouth. “We require aid and you need to get a call into Supreme Commander, Dylan Reyes.” He said, grabbing your hand and pushing through the door.

“Now, Beta Marshal, before we finish bleeding to death.” Henry hissed at him, annoyed and impatient.

“Of course, sir.” the Beta Marshal squeaked, saluting Henry and showing you both to his service car. “Supreme Commander Reyes, this is Beta Marshal Grant, down at the Security Door. I have a High Marshal here, wishing to speak with you.” the Beta Marshal explained, as his call to Dylan connected over the car's speakers.

“Who would that be, Grant?” Dylan's voice asked back.

“It's me, Dylan.” Henry huffed, slumping in the seat.

“Henry!” Reyes's voice snapped in surprise. “You're alive!”

“For the time being.” Henry sighed, rubbing at his face.

“Do you have the girl and her brother?” He asked, sounding desperate and frantic.

“I have her, but not her brother.” Henry explained, glancing at you. “It's a very long story. But, right now, we both need medical attention. She's been shot in the leg and bleeding heavily and I've spent the last thirteen hours being tortured.” He revealed to his boss.

“Grant, get them both to the Marshal Council Hospital right this second and make sure they don't spare any medical intervention and assistance. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Supreme Commander.” Grant replied, with a hard nod of his head as he started his car and directed it towards the Marshal Council Hospital, in Sector One.

“I'll be there promptly.” Reyes replied, clearly rushing out of his office for the parking garage.

So much of the tension went out of you and Henry, you were finally back in the protective and safe walls of London, no more worry about people trying to find and kill you, no more filthy and bare essential hotel rooms and days of endless walking. You were home and free, and with Henry. Now, you both just needed to get looked over and have your injuries treated, then you could go back to the comfort of your own flat.

You and Henry were rushed into the hospital, dozens of doctors and nurses swarming you both, poking this and pulling on that, asking a barrage of questions too fast for either of you to answer properly. The leg of your leggings was cut all the way to your hip as they removed Henry's ripped and blood soaked shirt to examine your gunshot wound. You screamed in pain as they pushed around it, and apologized profusely for it, and became more gentle about touching it.

“Good news is, it went through, relatively clean.” The doctor explained to you, standing beside your bed.

“The bad?” You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried preparing for it.

“The bullet nicked your great saphenous vein, it's the longest vein in the human body, running the entire length of the leg; which is what's causing a lot of your bleeding. ”

“Am..” You gulped down a hot lump of vomit trying to surge up your throat. “Am I going to lose my leg?” You asked, frightened beyond belief and wished Henry was in the same room as you, but they had separated the two of you after coming in with Beta Marshal Grant.

“No.” The doctor chuckled at you, shaking his head. “We have a procedure that will stop the bleeding and help the wound heal in no time. But, I must warn you, it is rather painful.”

“As long as I don't lose my leg, I don't care.” You told him.

You had already lost too much.

“Excellent, I'll have the nurse bring in the instruments and we'll get down to treating you.” He smiled at you, sweetly, trying to be supportive and calming. “Do you have any questions, before we get started?”

“Yes, how's Henry—the High Marshal.” You asked, correcting yourself.

“High Marshal Cavill has lost a good amount of blood.” He told you, his brow creasing with his concern. “We gave him a blood transfusion and an army load of fluids, while we treated his wounds. He has broken and cracked ribs and sternum, a broken nose, a severe concussion and very deep cuts on various parts of his body.” He explained to you, as gently as he could.

“But, he will make a full recovery. He's a tough young man, and has the best medical care London has.”

“Good.” You sigh, relieved.

The doctor smiled at you, gently resting his hand on your shoulder before leaving the room to prepare your treatment. A nurse came in a moment later, pushing a cloth covered cart, then put an IV port into your arm and hung up a bag of fluids, antibiotics and blood; since you had lost so much blood from your bullet wound. You hissed as she gingerly rotated your leg and slipped a triangular shaped pillow under your bent knee, an oval notch cut in the top of it for your knee to rest comfortable and securely, while they treated you.

She removed the cloth from the metal cart she brought in with her, and you saw what looked like a short caulking gun, a tube with a fat nozzle and two packaged patches. Picking up one of the patches, she ripped it open and dipped it in a small bowl of solution, the patch absorbed some of the liquid solution and became almost rubbery and gel-like. She moved around to your stabilized leg and gently pressed the ice cold patch to the bruised and puckered hole on the inside of your thigh, where the bullet exited, more than halfway up. You hissed as the cold gel patch touched the heated and angry skin of your thigh, whatever the solution she dipped it in stung and burned like liquid fire as it covered your wound, adhering to your skin with a firm hold.

“This will keep your wound protected, clean and sterile. It has antibodies that will recognize any infections or foreign matter and attack it, preventing your wound from going bad.” She explained to you, pressing her palm to it and held it there with firm pressure.

“And that?” You asked as she let go of the patch and picked up the caulking gun-like device and slotted the tub into it.

“This is Nanite Gel. It has antibodies in it, as well as stem cells and biological Nantes, that will start working to repair the severed muscle, skin, tendons, nerve endings and tissue inside your leg; closing the wound right up.” She replied. “The doctor will insert the nozzle into your wound and slowly draw it out, while filling it with the Gel. The patch also works as a barrier, since the projectile went through one side and out the other, preventing the Nanite Gel from squirting and leaking out.” She described to you.

“Fantastic.” You replied, with a nervous sarcasm.

You gulped with anticipation as the doctor came back in, with an additional nurse, and pulling on a pair of latex gloves. He smiled at you, took his position beside your leg, and took the injector from the first nurse. The second nurse grabbed your ankle and the top of your knee, pinning your leg down as the doctor lined up the tip of the nozzle with your uncovered and slightly bloody wound.

“Deep breath.” The doctor instructed you, taking a deep breath with you. “Ready?” He asked as the first nurse carefully dabbed at the blood with a wad of gauze at the end of a clamp, keeping your wound clean, so the doctor had an easy time guiding the nozzle in, which was easily bigger than your actual wound.

“More than I ever will be.” You replied, bracing yourself.

Nodding his head, the doctor pressed the nozzle to the opening of your wound and started to push it inside. You tensed and jerked, screaming again, but the second nurse had an iron grip on your leg, keeping it still as the doctor continued to push inside. You had strobing spots in your eyes and your jaw was so tight it felt like your teeth were going to shatter at any second. The doctor barked at the first nurse to give you twelve micrograms of Fentanyl for your pain, and she scurried out of your room and came running back a minute later with a IV syringe full of the opioid, pushing it directly into the tube of your IV. Within a couple of seconds, the painkiller washed over your whole body, like a hot comforter out of the dryer, and allowed you to relax, going slack on the bed.

“Good.” The doctor nodded, seeing and feeling you relax and finished pushing the nozzle the rest of the way in.

Shifting his hand, the doctor pressed down on the trigger of the injector and slowly drew it out again, filling the tunnel the bullet made with the blue-ish gel. You didn't feel the pain of it, but you felt the pressure in your leg. Your eyes were heavy, glazed over and half lidded, you felt absolutely nothing and you were so sluggish from the opioid that you couldn't even form words to think, it felt nice after all the trauma and hardship you had gone through in the last week.

So, you let it take you, pulling you under the crashing waves of exhaustion, pain and the high of the painkiller, your body going totally limp. It alarmed the doctor and nurses for a moment, fearing you had blacked out. But, once they checked you out and determined you had simply fallen asleep, they relaxed and finished tending to your wound, filling it with the gel, then covering it with another patch, like the other one, and lightly wrapped it with a bandage.

They left you to rest, closing the blinds over the window and turned down the lights, before softly closing the door behind them.

“How is she?” Henry asked Reyes as he came into Henry's room; he had heard your screams of pain from his room, across the hall.

“She's doing fine.” Reyes assured him, patting him on the shoulder. “They treated her gunshot wound with Nanite Gel, gave her some strong pain medication and she's asleep now.”

“Good.” Henry nodded, relieved, but still wanted to see you, to be by your side.

“So, what the hell happened?” Reyes asked, pulling up a chair next Henry's bedside.

Henry started to heave a sigh, but stopped, clutching his rib-cage with an arm as his ribs screamed. “I chased after her, like I said I would. It took me nearly three days to finally catch up to her. She's crafty, in a good way. She'd make a great Marshal.” He chuckled, carefully. “I was going to bring her straight back to London to testify. But, she was dead set on finding her brother, so I went with her, figuring I'd kill two birds with one stone.”

“Get her back to London to testify and have her brother prosecuted.” Reyes nodded, understanding.

“Well, when we got there, we had no clue on how to find him.” Henry continued on, staring out his room window. “I recalled that a Beta Marshal that had been banished to Bristol for dealings with Runners and Crime Bosses. Ramsey Kellan. We found him in Sector Fifteen and he gave us the information we needed.” He rubbed the side of his face, he really wished he could just take a nap, but continued to fill Reyes in.

“Somewhere along that time frame, we were outed as being in Bristol, and looking for her brother.”

“Over a decade as an undercover, and your first blown cover happens with the girl.” Reyes laughed, greatly amused.

“Yeah.” Henry frowned, not finding it funny, if his cover with you hadn't been blown, so much of this wouldn't have happened. “As I said, our cover got blown in a pub in Sector Three of Bristol. Benji Hernandez sent his best guy to track us down there. I was able to get us out of the pub and down an alleyway, where I boosted her over a wall, to keep her safe, and faced the guy. We fought, he tazed the fuck out of me, and the next thing I knew, I'm waking up in a bright room, cuffed hand and foot to a chair.”

“They tried beating and reasoning me into telling where she was, but I refused.”

“Where was she, when this was going on?”

“The hotel room we got before going to the pub.” Henry replied with a sigh.

“But, she was clearly found.” Reyes pointed out. “How?”

“I told her I would return in an hour. When I hadn't returned by morning, she got worried and decided to try and find me. Which ended up with Benji's men, who had been keeping an eye out for her, capturing her and bringing her in.”

“And the brother?” Reyes pushed, leaning forward, his elbows pressed to his thighs.

“They saw each other as she was being thrown in a van to be taken to Benji. His handler, Knox Monroe, had found out that they were siblings and outed him, and he ended up in the room with us.” Henry replied, gingerly shifting to find a more comfortable position.

“So, where is Keagan?”

“Dead.” Henry replied, bluntly. “Benji gave her a gun and forced her to decide which one of us would die first.”

“She killed her own brother?” Reyes asked, stunned and gobsmacked.

“No.” Henry shook his head, the image still burned in his mind. “She couldn't do it. She wouldn't choose either of us, she almost turned it on herself. Before, Michail managed to take the gun from her.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the image out his mind, the sound of your screams as you were forced to watch.

“He took his own life, so she didn't have to choose.”

“And Hernandez allowed the pair of you to leave afterwards?”

“No, I'm sure he would have forced either her or I to kill the other, then kill the last one himself.” Henry answered, opening his eyes again.

“Then, how did the two of you make it out?” Reyes asked, tilting his head at Henry.

Henry looked at Reyes. “Do you know Alpha Marshal Ashe James?” He asked, his eyes scrutinizing his boss.

“I do.” Reyes nodded back, his brows drawing together. “My predecessor, Eric Banner, told me, when I took over his position, when he retired, that he had a man on the inside of Bristol and to expect his reports regularly.”

“He was the one that saved our asses.” Henry explained with a sigh. “He was the one that stunned me in the alleyway. When Mikey killed himself, Ashe took the opportunity to pull his weapon and dispatched Benji and his men.”

Reyes blinked at Henry. “Are you telling me that Hernandez is dead?”

“I am. Unless, there's some way Nanite Gel can repair a hole in the brain.” He replied, with slight sarcasm. “Which I know there's not. So, he's now out of the way.”

“This is great.” Reyes grinned at Henry. “That'll be a massive blow to the Hernandez family, their operations and Bristol. Especially, when she's healthy enough to testify against Twist and his trafficking business.”

“It will be.” Henry agreed, but the only thing he was concerned with was the two of you getting well again. “I'm guessing, they'll be postponing the trial for a few weeks.”

“I still have to call the Cleric and Royal Councils and report everything that's gone down. But, I'm sure they'll delay the trial, for at least, a month.”

“Good, I want to take care of her first.” Henry added, nodding and relieved.

Reyes frowned at Henry and leaned back in his chair. “What is it between the two of you?” He asked, he had the suspicious feeling in his gut about the two of you for a while, but had only just had the time and place to ask.

Henry's cheeks warmed slightly and glanced away from Reyes, making his boss laugh out loud, seeing it in Henry's body language.

“You're in love with her.” He blurted out, tickled at the notion. “The great Upper, Henry Cavill, is in love with a Slummer, that's meant to be his Servant and Slave.”

“She's not my Slave! And, don't fucking call her a Slummer, either.” Henry roared, huffing angrily through his nose, like a bull about to charge. “I never registered her, and I never will register her, either.”

“Oh, I know you never registered her for an Ownership Bracelet, Henry.” Dylan continued to chuckle at his friend. “I checked and I got a copy of the paperwork you both filled out for her Life Pin.”

“And, you didn't say anything?” Henry asked, surprised.

“Not my business what you do with your private life, Hank.” He replied with a sigh, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“But, you pressed me into buying her.” He hissed back, eyes wide.

“I did.” Reyes nodded, pressing his lips together. “We needed the paperwork, a trail to link Twist to trafficking, and to Benji. What you did, or didn't, do with her outside of that, was purely on you, and her.” He confessed, running a hand through his short black hair.

“I was also hoping you'd find a lover or mate.” He added, clearing his throat.

“You were what?” Henry barked, taken aback.

“I should let you rest.” Dylan sighed, getting up, then carefully rested his hand on Henry's shoulder. “It's good to have you back, and alive. You did good, taking care of her and everything else. Take all the time you need to recover, the Council will be here, when you're ready to get back into it.”

“Thanks, Dylan.” Henry replied, giving him a respectful nod of his head, still brewing on what he said.

“Do you want me to call your family?” Reyes asked as he stopped at Henry's door.

“No, I'll call them, when I'm ready.” He shook his head, feeling that new wave of stress hit him. “Last time you called them about me being in the hospital, I almost died, and ended up needing a kidney replacement.”

“Fair enough.” Reyes laughed, and saw himself out.

A day later, Henry slowly limped into your hospital room, across the hall from his, and found you sitting up in bed, eyes glued to the tv and eating a jell-o cup. Your eyes shot over to Henry as he came in, setting your cup down and turned off the tv, relieved to finally see him. The two of you had only been given random updates on each other through your shared nurse, who also, gratefully, passed messages between you as well.

“Henry, should you be out of bed?” You asked as he stopped at your bedside.

“Well, I wasn't the one shot in the leg.” He chuckled and grinned at you, before leaning in to kiss you. “I just had to see you for myself.” He confessed, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek.

“How are you feeling?”

You took a deep breath, tilting your head into his hand. “Like I got shot in the leg.” You chuckled back at him.

“Other than that, Nugget.” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“I feel fine. Sore, but fine.” You assured him with a nod. “How about you, Puppy?” You asked, looking him over in his hospital gown, a warm and playful smile spreading across your lips.

“Same. Sore and ready to go home.” He smiled back, his stomach full of butterflies.

“I'm ready to go home too.” You concurred with him, sighing at the thought.

The butterflies in Henry's stomach wilted and died, a nauseous, heart-shaped lump forming in his tight throat, hearing you wanted to go home. His shoulders dropped, trying to get a hold on his heartbreak, before you saw it and had your mood ruined.

“You know what I've missed about it?” You asked, looking up at him, just as he managed to hide his disappointment.

“What?” He replied, pained.

“Kal.” You chuckled at him, oblivious, until you saw his shocked face. “What? You think I would miss you, when we've been together practically the whole time?” You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“No.” Henry squeaked, confused and relieved at the same time. “I just thought..” He paused, looking away from you.

“You just what, Hen?” You frowned at him, seeing his face and became worried. “Henry, sit down.” You ordered him, becoming concerned for him as you put down the arm rail, so he could sit on the edge of the bed with you.

“Tell me.” You whispered, gingerly wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I thought you were talking about going back to your family's home.” He whispered, faintly. “When you said you were ready to go back home, and that you missed them.”

“Well, I do miss them, Henry.” You told him, pressing your cheek to his bruised and nicked shoulder. “I would love to see them again. But, I wanna stay with you.” You whispered, looking up at him.

“Unless, you don't want me too?”

“I do want you too.” He replied, quickly. “I love you and I want to be with you. I want you to come home and stay with me.” He confessed to you, nosing the hair at the top of your head. “And, Kal.” He added, softly.

“Your place has become more of a home to me, than my parents' place has ever been.” You told him, honestly.

You had grown a lot in the time you shared with Henry, and a lot had also changed you. You didn't get kidnapped in your own city, imprisoned in a pitch black and freezing cold cell, either not fed or fed food crawling with unmentionables, cut off from most contact with people, other than the traffickers that had put you there, when they dragged you out for another line up for another snobbish, stuck up and entitled Upper, or to beat you into submission, without something changing you.

You still had nightmares about being in that cell.

You also changed from all the things Henry exposed you too. New foods, tv shows and the luxury of being in the upper Sectors of London, like taking you to that Royal Dinner party with his family. Henry had taken the mostly naive and sheltered Slummer and opened the world up to you. You would always appreciate and love him for that, and for taking care of you and protecting you through the long months after saving you from Twist.

Henry and Kal had become your new home, and the three of you had made a new family.

“I love you, Henry Cavill, and nothing will ever stop or prevent that.” You told him, kissing his cheek tenderly.

“So, you'll come back home with me?” He asked, looking down at you, hopeful.

“I don't want to be anywhere else.” You replied, smiling back at him.

Henry's face broke out into a smile and cupped your face in his hands. “Neither do I.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours and kissed you.

“Henry!” A frantic voice came from across the hall.

“Mum!” Henry called back, breaking away from you. “Mum, over here.” He yelled out, limping to your room door as his mother rushed out of his empty room.

“Oh, thank god, Henry!” She cried, rushing him and throwing her arms around him.

“Easy, Mum.” He winced, but hugged her back. “How did you know I was here?” He asked, he hadn't gotten around to calling her and his family yet.

“A report came across my desk about you being injured in the line of duty with a Slummer, and that you were still recuperating here in the hospital. I was afraid it was serious, when you hadn't called me to tell me you were all right.” Marianne explained, shaking her head at her son. “What were you doing with some Slummer that caused you to get so hurt?” She demanded, upset.

“I hope they get the punishment they deserve for getting you into such danger.”

“Mum.” Henry snapped eyes wide and looked back at you.

Marianne blinked and looked into your room, seeing your sheepish and hurt expression, then looked up at Henry. “She's a Slummer?” She asked him, surprised, as she recognized you.

Henry took a deep breath, biting his lip. “We need to talk.” He said, stepping aside, so Marianne could enter your room and followed her, closing the door behind him.

“What's going on?” She asked, taking a seat as Henry sat back down on the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his.

“Several months ago, I was undercover in Sector Thirty-One. I was tasked with infiltrating a trafficking warehouse run by one of Benji Hernandez's men. I did so, with my usual skill and process, but after finally getting an appointment with the guy and seeing the people that had been imprisoned there, Dylan told me I had to—make a purchase—to nail the traffickers and for them to get properly arrested and prosecuted by the Councils.” He explained to her.

“One of the people they had kidnapped and had for sale, was her.” He said and looked at you, giving you a soft and loving smile. “So, I purchased her, and was meant to take care of her, until the trial happened and she testified.”

“So, you bought a Slum-”

“Don't call her that.” Henry hissed, angrily, but recalled himself. “Don't call her that.” He repeated, calmer.

Marianne took a deep breath, glaring at her son. “So, you bought her, in a sting operation, took her home and acted like none of this happened, taking her to events and other functions.” She summed up, studying the two of you. “When she is, technically, your Slave.”

“Yes. But, I don't and didn't want her as a Slave. That's why I never registered her for a Bracelet.” Henry replied, licking his lips.

“So, how did the two of you end up in Bristol, of all places?” She asked, looking between you.

“I ran away, to find my brother, who got himself into a situation, as a Runner, in Bristol.” You answered, before Henry could. “I wanted to go there to try and convince him to come back home. I didn't expect Henry to come after me, when he found out where I went.”

“But,” Henry sighed and bit his lip. “I did. I was worried about her safety, and Dylan asked me, unofficially, to bring her and her brother back here. So, she could testify at the trial and her brother could face justice for his hand in the whole thing.”

Marianne looked at you, her expression stern. “And where is your criminal brother?” She asked, stiffly.

You gulped and licked your lips, staring at your covered legs and picked at the fuzz on your blanket. “He's dead.” You whispered, choking up and tears filling your eyes. “He gave his life, so Henry and I could live and get away from Benji and his men.” You blubbered, crushed.

“Sshh.” Henry hushed you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you against him.

Marianne blinked between the two of you, taken aback.

“They tried torturing her location out of me, that's why I'm so injured. They wanted to kill her to stop the trial against Twist and their operations. I refused, for obvious reasons. She tried to save me, but got caught. When they realized her twin brother was her sibling, they brought him in as well. He died for us, and she got shot in the leg during the escape. Another undercover Marshal helped us get away and back here, to London.” Henry finished explaining to his mother.

“That's what happened.” He sighed, his eyes still on you.

“You're in love.” Marianne blurted out, seeing it as plain as day now.

“Yes.” Henry nodded, looking up at her. “I don't care that she was born in the lower Sectors, mum. I love her, with my heart and soul, and she loves me.”

“I do.” You replied, gulping down your tears and clinging onto him.

Marianne sighed and pressed her lips together, she had waited, a long time, for Henry to finally find someone to fall in love with and share his life. He was the last of the five Cavill boys to find love, settle down and start a family. If she was honest, she didn't care about what social standing the girl he fell in love with was, as long as he was happy, and by the looks of it, you and Henry were more than happy and in love with each other.

“All right.” She whispered softly, nodding her head. “I approve.”

Henry lifted his head and blinked at his mother. “Really?” He asked, shocked to hear it. “You don't care that she's from the lower Sectors?”

“Honestly, Henry? No.” She replied, sighing and shaking her head. “Love is love, and nothing is stronger than true love, not even differing social status.” She told him, honestly. “But, you both know that if, and when, people find out about it, there will be issues. They'll gossip and make comments, some might even turn away from you, shunning you for being with a Sl—someone of a lower standing.” She said, looking between the two of you with an authority of a Royal.

“Do you think you both, and your love, can survive that?”

You and Henry looked at each other, a silent conversation happening between you, before Henry looked back to his mother. “Yes.” He answered, firmly.

The two of you had gone through a lot worse than people talking behind your backs and shunning you.

“All right then.” Marianne replied, standing up. “Then, you have my, and no doubt the rest of the family's, approval, respect and support in the choice of your relationship.” She approached the bed, hugging Henry and kissing his cheek, then turned towards you.

You gulped at her, like a mouse getting stared down by a hungry cat, before she leaned in and hugged you as well; you were surprised by her move, but gave her a hug back. Breaking the hug, Marianne left the room, leaving you alone with Henry again.

“That went incredibly better than I thought it would.” Henry commented, finally breaking the silence in the room.

“You can say that again.” You agreed with him, staring at the open door of your room. “What do we do now, Henry?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Now, Nugget.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. “We get you well enough to go home.” He said, squeezing you against him.

Four days later, with the help of some crutches, you left the hospital with Henry, going back to his flat in Sector Two. Kal was over the moon to see you guys again, Charlie having dropped him off at the flat that morning. Henry had body block the Akita to keep him from knocking you over and harming you, until you were able to sit down on the couch and he was allowed to greet you; pressing himself against you and licking at your face.

“Yes, yes!” You laughed, hugging his thick neck, trying to calm him down. “We missed you too, Bear. We missed you just as much.” You told him, kissing his face back and giving him scratches.

After getting settled back in, Henry carefully picked you up, making you laugh as he did.

“Where are we going, Henry?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you through the flat.

“We are both absolutely filthy and need a proper shower.” He told you, going into the bathroom and setting you down on the sink counter. “Lucy!” He called out, looking up.

“Yes, Mr. Cavill?” His flat's AI replied.

“Start the shower on preset two, please.” He said, pulling off the clothing his mother had brought him, before you both left the hospital.

“Right away, sir.” Lucy replied, and the shower came to life.

“Here, let me help.” He said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“Thanks.” You smiled, then eased off the counter, balancing on your good leg and grasping Henry's forearm.

Marianne had even been kind enough to bring you clothes as well. So, Henry's hands dropped to the ties of your loose sweatpants and untied the knot, pushing them down your hips to pool around your bare feet. You half limped and half hopped under the spray of the hot shower head, making you moan and groan as it cascaded over your battered and sore body. Henry chuckled and stepped in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your wet hair.

“I love you, so very much.” He whispered to you. “I'm glad you came back with me.” He added, even softer.

You turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his hips. “I love you too, Henry, and I don't want to be anywhere that you're not.”

“Neither do I.” He replied, kissing you gently on the lips.

Dried blood, dirt and grim swirled around the shower drain as you and Henry helped clean each other off. You scrubbed his skin with an exfoliating sponge, careful of his cuts and stitches, as he washed your hair, then switched, Henry washing you as you washed his hair.

“There's almost no better feeling than that shower clean feel.” You said, limping into Henry's bedroom and snagged one of his shirts out of his closet, slipping it over your head. “It's such a euphoric feeling.”

“What feels better than that?” Henry asked, coming in after you and pulling on a loose pair of pajama bottoms.

You smirked up at Henry, impishly. “I think you know.” You chuckled at him.

Henry laughed, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, tenderly, but passionately on the lips. “I agree with that.” He said against your lips. “But, you know what else feels euphoric?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Tell me?” You giggled at him.

“A nap in that bed.” He said, pointing to his bed.

“Oh yes.” You agreed, biting your lip and staring at it. “The clean and divine smelling sheets, the warm and cloud-like mattress and pillows.”

“It's an orgasm in itself.” Henry cooed, staring at his bed with a wanting lust.

“I vote we sleep in it for the next year.” You said, looking up at him.

“I vote, the next decade.” He added, looking down at you.

“Deal.”

Henry scoped you up, carrying you to bed, and laid down with you. Cocooned under the soft and clean sheets, both of you moaned, as you melted into the mattress, like warm butter. You snuggled together, wrapped in each other's arms, and almost sound asleep the moment everything settled in around you.

“Lucy, go to night mode.” Henry mumbled, his body feeling like a ton of rocks, he was so tired.

“Yes, sir.” Lucy whispered back.

Everything went dark, heavy drapes closed over the windows, the lights went out, the doors locked and the air purifier went on, with the soothing sound of ocean waves filling the bedroom, and you and Henry were out cold within minutes.

You slept the rest of the day and well into the next, only getting up because your stomachs were growling for food and your bladders were screaming for release, then you both crawled back into bed and slept even longer. Henry was the first one to officially wake up from your long and deserved hibernation, he laid in bed with you, stroking your hair and the nap of your neck. He traced your face, placing delicate kisses to your eyes, between your brows, the tip of your nose, both cheeks and finally, softly, to your lips.

“Henry.” You whispered, a smile tugging on your lips, before your eyes fluttered open and met his sparkling blues.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He asked, the tip of his finger ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Warm, content and happy.” You answered, snuggling in closer to him and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “You?”

“The same.” Henry replied, nuzzling your hair. “We should go see your parents.” He said suddenly, biting the inside corner of his lip. “They deserve to know.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead to his chest. You had been trying to avoid this, avoiding telling your parents that you had been kidnapped and sold by traffickers, to the man you were now madly in love with, and that their son was dead, having killed himself in the pursuit of saving you and Henry from the same outcome.

How do you tell them that? You asked yourself.

“I don't know how.” You mewled, squeezing his thick bicep, like it was a lifeline.

Henry frowned into your hair, stroking the small of your back. “With honesty.” He whispered back, his heart hurting for you.

You stood in front of the door to your family's flat and it felt alien, you didn't feel the familiar nostalgia of coming home, of seeing your family after a grueling and mindless fifteen hour shift at the supermarket. It felt like you were there for the very first time, as if you had never been there before and didn't belong. You could hear the noise inside the flat, your brother running around the place, playing with his toys.

Henry rested his hand on the small of your back and gave you an encouraging smile. Biting your lip, you mustered the courage to knock on the door, it didn't feel right to enter the pin and walk in. You fidgeted as you waited for the door to be open, absentmindedly rubbing your thigh as it throbbed with even the slightest bit of your weight on it.

Finally the door ripped open and Christophe looked at Henry first, his eyes growing with shock, then looked to you, where his face lit up with surprise.

“Issy!” He shouted, and launched at you.

“Fuck.” You snapped, catching him in your arms as Henry caught you in his, keeping you both from tumbling to the floor. “Easy, Christophe. I don't need any more injuries.” You tried to scold him, but only ended up laughing at him as he hung from his arms around your neck, feet dangling.

“Where have you been, Issy!” He demanded, letting go of you and looking between you and Henry. “Who's this?”

“Is mum and dad home, Chris?” You asked, smiling down at him, nervously ruffling his hair.

“Yeah!” Christophe nodded and rushed back into the flat. “Mummy! Dad! Issy's back!” He screamed running around the house.

You looked to Henry and took a deep breath, shoulders rising, rolled your eyes, and stepped into the flat. Henry followed behind you, as your parents rushed into the living room, hot on each other's heels.

“Oh my god!” Your mother gasped and scrambled to you.

“Easy.” You warned her, unable to take a second person jumping you, and motioned to your leg as she lifted a brow at you.

“What's happened to you?” Your father asked, blinking at your wrapped thigh.

“I was shot.” You sighed, figuring it was best to be open and honest, and not sugar coat too many things.

“What?” They both roared, horrified.

“You might want to sit down.” You said, motioning towards the sofas.

Looking at each other, your parents shooed Christophe back to his room and sat down on one couch while you and Henry sat on the love-seat, across from them. There was a long, and awkward, silence, before any of your spoke.

“I'm sorry, I've been gone for so long.” You started, squeezing Henry's hand for support and comfort. “There's been a lot going on, and I didn't, we didn't want to risk your, or Christophe's, safety.” You tried to explain the best you could.

“What are you talking about?” Your father frowned, shaking his head at you and Henry.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, you came out with it. “After I went looking for Mikey, that day, I was tricked and taken by a group of Traffickers in Sector Thirty-One. I spent several months in their warehouse, I don't want to go into details, I think that's best.”

“Of course.” Your mother nodded, clutching your father's hand.

“Henry here, is a High Marshal with the Marshal Council.” You introduced him. “He was undercover, trying to get information on the people running the trafficking warehouse, when he—uh—“ You gulped hard.

“He purchased me from them.”

“You what?” Your father hissed at Henry.

“It was part of his job, papa.” You cut him off, before his temper flared too much. “He had to do it for paperwork and other Council stuff. After he did that, he took me back to his place in Sector Two.”

“Is that where you've been this whole time?” Your father asked, his eyes narrowed angrily at Henry.

“It is.”

“And you couldn't contact us?” Your mother asked, upset. “Sent us something to tell us you were alive and all right?”

“She wanted too, many times.” Henry finally spoke up. “But, her life was in serious danger, and if she contacted anyone close to her, like yourselves, you would have been in grave danger as well. So, we didn't contact you for that reason.” He explained to them, hoping to ease that conflict.

“And how did you get shot?” Your father asked, still angry.

“I found out where Mikey was going.” You answered, quietly. “He was heading to Bristol, to advance his training as a Runner.” You gulped and looked up at Henry. “I ran away from Henry, and went to Bristol, trying to find him. I knew he was going to be in a load of trouble and I wanted to try and prevent that; to make him come home.” You explained to them, starting to shake.

Henry wrapped an arm around you and hugged you against him. “You can do this.” He whispered into your ear, gently.

Nodding and clearing your throat, you continued. “Henry came after me, trying to get me to return to London with him.”

“But, she wouldn't come back without Mikey.” He added, nodding his head at you, his eyes only on you. “I was meant to bring her back, so she could testify against her captors. But, I was also meant to bring Michail in, for his part in the Running business.”

“When we got to Bristol and started looking for him, people were looking for me, and they found us.” You picked up the narrative. “They took Henry after he made sure I was out of the way and safe. They hurt him.” You said, looking at his still bruised and cut up face. “I tried to go after him, but they got me as well.”

“While all that was going on, they somehow found out that Mikey and I were related and brought him in as well, locking us all in the same room.”

You stopped talking, trying to keep yourself from getting overwhelmed and turning into a sobbing mess. Your parents sat there for a long time, watching you try to control yourself and got the feeling something very bad had happened, worse than everything you were telling them.

“Where is Michail?” Your mother asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He's-” You licked your lips and shook your head, unable to get it out of your mouth.

“I am sorry to inform you both.” Henry replied for you. “But, Michail didn't make it.” He said gently, using his High Marshal voice, the only way he knew how to say it to your grieving parents.

“They were forcing me to decide which of the three of us would go first.” You sobbed, shaking. “Mikey made the choice to take his own life, so we could live.”

Your mother wailed and threw herself on your father, howling and sobbing, screaming at the top of her lungs about the loss of her beautiful and precious boy. You sat there with Henry, clinging onto him and wincing at each terrible and heartbreaking cry your mother made into your father's neck. Your father sat there, stoically, but silently crying as he held her and rocked back and forth.

“I'm sorry.” You whined at them, drained. “I tried. I tried so hard to bring him back.” You mewled at them, crushed.

Your father's eyes were on Henry as they both comforted the women they loved. “And you, what do you get in all this?” He asked, suspicious. “You bought my daughter, are you going to keep her from her family, still?”

“No, sir.” Henry replied, frowning back at him. “I love your daughter. I have treated her as my equal from the moment I saw her, and she will always be my equal. I don't want her as a Slave or a Servant.” He looked at you and wiped your tears away.

“I just want her.” He whispered, smiling gently at you. “Forever and always.”

172 notes · View notes

solomonish · 3 years

Text

Naamah’s “Match-Up” That I Made Needlessly Complicated!

IT TOOK ME A WHILE BUT I DID GO CRAZY AND STUPID

hewwo @baalism I made u......less of a match up and more just headcanons on how u date the people. i hope u like it <3 I divided them into tiers depending on how well I think they mesh w you too!! so here you go!

TOP TIER (NOT kissing up 2 u!)

SATAN

I think Satan is your #1 man because the two of you just seem to be.....kindred spirits. (I am calling you the same as Satan but like as a compliment?) Y’all got that academia vibe to you with your books and your museum dates and your air of mystery. You two are the hot nerd squad is what i’m saying

Plus Satan is a social butterfly! He’d not only like the quieter moments w you but also when you went dancing he could either be living it up with you or making new connections (although. if he was going to the club why would he stray from the main attraction? make it make sense)

And with him that trust would be super easy to get bc if you’re dating him, HOO BOY. He’s got some Issues but he trusts you to help him get through them! There is a lot of him that feels prickly and dangerous and if you don’t shy away from that and can help him through it then you have his heart! As long as you aren’t ripping his attention away from a thrilling chapter, he’s a great conversation partner too. His quiet nature at first is NOT shyness, it allows him to be observant!! You are one of the few who get the chatty inside ^u^

Plus he loves ur cat and will be on her side when she screws with your puzzles.

SOLOMON

THE ONLY REASON he is not number one is he’s a bit too much of a wallflower to be into the partying like Satan would be. Otherwise....hot nerd squad two electric boogaloo

Is a bit more down with the witchy outdoorsy stuff and the occult and the abandoned place exploration thing than Satan would be. I bet one of his favorite things to do is take u to an abandoned building and after being there for a while when you start to get bored, he enchants it to look like the inside of some old castle and you dance together or something :) memories for u

isn’t always super chatty but is great for listening to you rant. he makes up for his lack of chattiness by asking the perfect questions to get you fired up again, so your ranting takes up most of the time. loves to pick ur brain, so you can talk about anything. he’s like: i want to dissect that smart lil organ of yours. lovingly <3

keep your sudoku puzzles up or he will mistake your books for his and do them for you. the image of him sitting cross legged at an armchair like some grandpa is nice but those are your puzzles!!!! but he’s very good at being domestic, just make sure to ALWAYS cook or bake with him!

LUCIFER

Listen, I hc Lucifer as like kind of a wallflower, but even if i’m wrong, he’ll still not be partying with you a lot because he’s busy! of course doesn’t stop you from going out if you want just be safe pls he lovs u

will take a walk with you every day all the time. After dinner before he goes back to work, he’ll take a little stroll with you. when he has time he’ll go for longer ones and show you some off-beat or decrepit devildom areas but he will absolutely just go on little walks with you every day to catch up with you!!

lives for the domestic moments. you bring him coffee? he is glad to be yours! walks in on you doing laundry? how luck he is to have someone so capable <3 he’ll help you fold the rest of the load or will make sure to talk with you while it’s his turn to make dinner (but will make sure you don’t have to help! you deserve a break)

finds your interest in the arcane kinda funny because he IS the arcane but supports you <3 will listen to you list off what you know even if he also knows because he likes hearing what you’ve learned and you get so excited about it! he will return with his own spells and potions you might not know yet and you two could go on for hours about it.

HIGH-MID TIER

ASMODEUS

His interests align with your! Fashion, beauty, partying!! He loves it. LIVES for it. you two are an unstoppable force.

However....the academic/witchy stuff doesn’t suit him as well as the other stuff does? He’ll whine about you “being a satan” or “being a solomon” if you tread too far in one direction

he’ll work out with you though and buy you cute workout gear <3

a relationship with him is less emphasizing trust and more about intimacy (but you can still trust him yknow?) he makes your connection known by demonstrating it plainly rather than feeling like a safehouse, if that make sense? but he does love u to pieces!! remember that

BEELZEBUB

he wants to eat ur cupcakes this is my main reasoning and also NOT a dirty joke

if he goes partying w you he acts more as a personal bouncer and will circle the crowd like a shark for u <3 also great to bring you home if you’re drunk

he likes taking walks and hiking and being active with you! he does have to slow down so he doesn’t overexert your human body but he doesn’t mind because he’s having fun!

v sweet with the domestic stuff, just not great at cleaning. he just leaves crumbs over the floor he just cleaned :/ thinks u look cute in an apron tho

DIAVOLO

AHHHHH he thinks ur so interesting! so well rounded :0

also it’s good that you’re into witchy stuff! that made your transition to the devildom a bit easier huh?

absolutely loves how eager you are to learn because that’s what you need for the program to succeed! and you already know so much.....you would make.....a very knowledgeable..ruler....of the Devildom.....ahem.....

the above are used to physical affection but could back it up with some mistakes but Diavolo doesn’t get the chance to give affection so whatever ur comfortable with getting he will channel it all in to that!! gifts or words or whatever!!!

but if u give him a lil smooch he will be !!!!!!!! it just feels nice

AN ANOMALY

BARBATOS

I don’t understand this fucker (affectionate). IDK if I can’t place him bc I don’t know him that well or just because he refuses to be categorized but! he is here. perfectly in the middle. taunting me.

idk ur academic prowess is preferable because he wants someone who can keep up with him. and ur interest in spooky stuff works well bc he’s a demon and if he were a human he’d like the occult too.

can’t really go clubbing or take you very many places bc of work :/ he can do strolls around the garden though! or walk you home from places :)

good with the not initiating physical touch because he can shapeshift into whatever you need him to be. an anomaly indeed.

LOW-MID TIER

SIMEON

he respects you :)

finds your academic pursuits inspring! your interest in the occult is a bit off-putting at first but you all are in hell so who is he to blame?

loves to collect your witchy stuff with you <3 knows a lot about safe to eat fruits so he’ll be collecting things for a fresh strawberry pie while you collect what you need to summon lucifer without a pact even though he lives in ur house and you HAVE a pact.

you can bake the pie together though <3

BELPHEGOR

he does not respect you :)

finds your occult pursuits inspiring! your interest in excelling in academics is a bit off-putting at first - why would you choose to put more work in when you can jsut vibe and pass bc you’re an exchange student?

(ok i’m done making this the inverse of the above lol)

not the most chatty or the most workout-y or patying-y or anything BUT he can be a little domestic. you do the cleaning and he can cook once in a while! and he’ll make the bed! and then he’ll sleep in it immediately. but he’ll be wishing you were cuddling with him the whole time <3

LOW TIER

MAMMON

he’s got the energy but not the respect

unlike the way belphie disrespects you, mammon does it just bc you’re incompatible :/ but like in the nicest way possible

he interrupts when he’s chatty and he’s not the type to hang out with nerds and like. he’s too scared to get into the occult and abandoned buildings.

he does love you to bits! just....not in the way you want. sorry mams :/

LEVIATHAN

he can get chatty for sure!!

but he just does not have the energy to match your academic pursuits or your outdoorsy interests or clubbing or beauty or any of that.

ok MAYBE the enrd stuff but like only a little! too much and that’d make him a normie >:(

y’all trust each other a lot tho! just as henry and lord of shadow, like friends. not a significant others

OKAY i didn’t burn myself out!! i hope you like this and agree maybe? hehe this was fun

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #swd obey me #for baalism

12 notes · View notes

tillthelandslide · 4 years

Text

Jersey Love (Part 2) : Coffee Date

Hi everyone, here’s part 2 of Jersey Love, I really hope you all love it as much as I do. I am having a lot of fun writing this series... I love you all for all of the amazing support you have offered. Warning: 4.5k words haha - L

Tagged: @harrysthiccthighss @thereisa8ella @magdelen69 @henrythickcavill @hc-geralt-23 @kissthatlifeaway @darkbooksarwin @august-w-princess @speakerforthedead0 @pixie1484 @constip8merm8 @tigerbroadwaybaby @agniavateira @summersong69 @aestheticallywinchester @stephartrave @al-wiisa @henrycavillfanpage @intenselikes @anat2507 @ellixthea @aguspalazzo @1ookatthestars00

(if you would like to be added to my tag list, feel free to message me, if you are new to my blog then I post Henry Cavill fanfics and make Henry Cavill fake Instagram posts, my requests are open so feel free to request anything and I will try my best to make your vision come to life)

Part 1

Coffee Date

The next day you and Henry had agreed to go out for some coffee. You agreed to meet at 10am but you arrived a little early to ensure you weren't late, you hated being tardy so often arrived way in advance. You went to this coffee shop a lot so the staff knew you and knew your order. A teenage girl called Jess had greeted you on your way in. She was your neighbour and she kind of became attached to you when you moved in next door, she referred to you as her cool older friend and you became her role model as she wanted to work with animals too. She led you to a table near the back of the shop. The shop was quite a new place and had a hipster looking decor, instead of the usual café chairs and tables, the shop had booths like a diner and Jess led you to one which seated 4.

"Would you like your usual Yn?" she said making you smile, she was such a sweet girl and was always so kind to you.

"I'm actually waiting for someone but thank you Jess" you said, making her smile and nod, she tucked her pad into her apron before beginning to speak again.

"Molly told me you have a date with Henry Cavill, is that true?" she whispered, making you laugh, Molly was the same age as you and owned the shop (she was the main reason you came to the shop), you told her that you had a date and she had asked who the lucky guy was.

"It is. You're going to have to promise me not to freak out when he's here though" you said, making her nod, you knew she was a fan of Henry’s work, she had told you the first time you had met her. You remember asking her what it was like living in Jersey and she said “I like it here for now, but I want to leave when I grow up… grandma says nobody makes it out of Jersey...expect Henry Cavill”. She then went on to tell you how she had seen all his movies (her favourite was man of steel) and she couldn’t believe he grew up in Jersey, she has also told you that she had never met him before but wanted to.

A couple of minutes later, Henry had arrived, greeting the staff as he came in, you texted him before telling him where you were sitting so he came over to your straight away. You checked him out as he came in, your eyes scanning him up and down. His hair was styled perfectly, a few curls loose in front of his face which made him look even hotter, you swore he had gotten bigger and he was dressed very stylishly again, wearing jeans and a turtle neck and he had a pair of glasses adorning his face.

"Hello" he said, coming to stand next to where you were sitting, you placed your palms on the leather of the booth's seat, pushing yourself up so you were close to Henry as he placed a kiss on your cheek before sitting down opposite you.

"Hi." you said, leaning forward on your hands, admiring him just a bit longer.

"You look lovely as always" he said, making you blush again. You were dressed very casually in a cozy white cropped jumper, black skinny jeans and a pair of vans. Your hair was styled in loose curls, drooping behind your shoulders, two pieces at the front which always strayed from the rest framing your face.

"As do you. Very dashing" you said, making him giggle. Jess came back over saying hello to Henry who smiled and said hello back.

"Hi, welcome to Molly’s, my name is Jess and I will be taking your order, if you need anything, just call me over. What can I get for the both of you?" she said, pulling out her notepad, you always found the little introduction they had to say very cute, especially when she did it. You had insisted that she didn’t have to do it with you but you guess she did it because you weren’t alone.

"Hi Jess. Could I have a plain black coffee please?" Henry said, offering Jess a smile as he spoke, which made her blush, before he looked back at you.

"The usual please Jess, thank you" you said, still resting your head in your palms. Just when he thought you couldn't get any cuter. Jess walked away and you saw her wink at you and mouth "he's so hot" which made you giggle behind your hand.

"You have a usual" he said, sounding impressed.

"Yeah. It's shameful really" you said, pushing your hair behind your ear.

"Why's that?" he said, finding himself leaning forward too.

"I come in here way too much. It's on the way to work so I pop in to say hello and get my morning coffee. Molly, the owner is my friend… I think I pay their rent with how much I send here" you said, making Henry laugh, Henry loved how you had your own little routine.

"That's great. Bet they love you here" he said making you giggle.

"Hmm. Not sure about that… It is nice to know Molly though, she lets me try out new cakes she’s made… for free" you said making Henry chuckle.Jess then bought both your drinks over on a tray, placing the black coffee in front of Henry with a biscuit and some sugar and placing the other drink in front of you with a your favourite biscuit.

"Thank you, that was very quick." Henry said with an impressed tone. Jess blushed deeply making you smile widely.

"Jess here is the star worker of this establishment" you said, making her roll her eyes at you and chuckle.

"Thanks Yn, you only think that because I make sure they have your favourite biscuits everytime you come here" she said, smiling at you and making Henry chuckle at her which made her eyes sparkle.

“And I love you for it” you said, making Jess laugh before she walked off.

"She's my neighbour. And a huge fan of yours, I might add, don’t let her know I told you." you said, making Henry laugh before saying "It will be our little secret, she’s really sweet" which made you want to hug him because he was just so kind.

"What's that then?" he said pointing at your drink.

"It's my own little secret." you said, taking a sip, Henry raised his eyebrows at you, to which you copied making you laugh.

"Try some." you said, offering him the cup.

"Hmm I don't know Yn, you could be trying to poison me" he said, but then took a sip. You saw the look of pure satisfaction cross his face before he closed his eyes, humming deeply, his tongue flicked out along his bottom lip to get another taste. You clenched your thighs together at the sight.

"Oh that's good. What is it?" he said, making you shake your head and take another sip.

"You're really not going to tell me?" he said, chuckling, pulling your cup towards him and taking another sip.

"Hey, you’ve got your own!" you giggled, making him laugh and to which he said “But yours is better” before he pushed it back towards you.

"So what have you been up to besides work?" he said, drinking his drink and looking into your eyes. His concentration never on anything other than you.

"Nothing much really. Work has been super busy recently, I've only really had time to work out, eat and sleep. I make sure Jess comes over as much as she can." you said, making him smile, he was so interested in what you do.

"What have you been up to at work then?" he asked again, his hand resting against the table making you want to reach out and hold it.

"We've mainly been trying to enrich our current conservation projects and assessing if they're working and trying to figure out how we can improve them. I've also taken up some more keeper duties because one of the keepers is on maternity leave, it's fun but can be quite tiring, especially when I have a full day of meetings after" you said smiling, your job made you happy so you couldn't help but smile.

"That sounds amazing Yn." he said.

"What about you Hen? How was filming?" you said, you knew you asked this question last night but you didn't really get to hear a genuine answer.

"It was amazing. I'm so excited for everyone to see this. I've been a huge fan of the Witcher games for years and now the books too and playing Geralt was an honor. I chased down this opportunity and was over the moon when Lauren cast me" he said, making you smile at how passionate he was about it.

"Couldn't imagine you with white hair, yellow eyes and scars everywhere" you said, leaning forward and tracing where Geralts scars are in the games. You quickly pulled back when you realised how weird that must have been.

"Sorry. Just trying to picture it. I'm a big fan of the games too. And the books" you said quickly trying to recover from how embarrassing that was, seriously Yn, who the heck just touches someone’s face you thought, blushing a deep shade of red.

"I don't mind at all love. And really? That's cool, more stuff we have in common" he said, finding more things out about you that he liked.

"The trailer comes out soon so you'll see what I look like then, not trying to give too much away because I could get in trouble but I don’t have scars across my face like Geralt in the games does" he said, winking at you.

"Bet you still look hot though" you said, a smirk on your lips, you said it to see what reaction you got back.

"Obviously" he replied, you were glad he didn't tease you, but instead made light of it. Deep down he had butterflies at the fact you called him hot.

"How long are you here for?" you said, you had finished your drink but had your hands wrapped around it to keep them warm.

"Until the new year" he said positively, happy he was here for a couple of months.

"Wow that long huh? No filming to be done?" you said, you pushed your cup to the other side of the table, placing your hand against the table, the other rested in between your legs.

"Trying to get rid of me already?" he said, jesting with you. You shook your head and pushed your hand forward a bit more, wanting him to hold it.

"We've finished all the filming and press tours so I'm free as a bird for now" he said, grasping your hand in his, finally you thought, glad that he had the courage to do it because you sure didn’t.

"I'm glad. Many plans?" you said, glancing down at your cup before flashing your eyes back up into his, before he got the chance to answer your phone started ringing.

"Shit I'm so sorry, I'll turn it off" you said, making him shake his head.

"It's okay, answer it" he said, you pulled your hand from his, it instantly felt cold as you took your phone out from your pocket, Henry saw a picture of you and the guy from yesterday and saw the name "Lewis"

"Hey Lew. Can I call you back? I'm on a date with Henry" you said, looking at Henry and seeing him smile. He thought it must have been going well for you to tell someone about it so openly.

"I know. I hate to interrupt but Josie needed me to tell you that you don’t need to work tomorrow, she’s got someone to fill your shift on keeper duties, she said you’ve been working too hard." he said.

"That's great news Lewis, thanks for letting me know, tell Josie I said thanks too. I'm with Henry, can I call you back later?" you said making him laugh over the phone.

"How's it going? Fuck yet?" he said, laughing loudly making you pull the phone away from your ear and rolling your eyes at Henry making him laugh.

"Goodbye Lewis." you said hanging up and placing your phone back in your pocket.

"Sorry about that, my friend and colleague Lewis called" you said, tucking the same bit of hair that always falls in front of your eyes, behind your ear.

"Everything okay?" he said, his hand reaching out to hold yours again making your stomach flutter.

"Yeah, the keeper manager just wanted to let me know I don't have to work my keeper duties tomorrow" you said, squeezing his hand.

”So no plans tomorrow then?” he said, he raised his eyebrows suggestively making you smirk.

“That is correct yes, what’s going on in that head of yours Hen?” you said, giggling to yourself making his face light up. He loved how you already called him Hen.

“Would you want to go on a walk with me tomorrow? You can meet my dog and we could have a picnic” he said, you could see the excitement on his face and it made your heart flutter.

“That sounds perfect.” you said, squeezing his hand.

“I’m curious, what was your favourite character to play?” you asked making him smile, he loved that you were interested in him and he appreciated the fact you didn’t ask the same questions that interviewers asked.

“Ooh that’s a hard one. I’ve honestly loved them all for different reasons. Superman will always have a special place in my heart. I also loved playing August Walker, I had never really played a primary antagonist before so that was interesting” he said, the thought on his face was truly adorable and it made you smirk to yourself, a couple of lines appeared on his forehead when he thought and you wanted nothing more than to reach over and smooth them out but you decided against it.

“I loved Fall Out, Jess made me watch it and I have to say Henry.. The moustache works really well for you. Not many guys could pull that off” you said making him chuckle.

“Thanks, I grew to love it but was glad when it was gone” he said.

“Would you ever grow it back?”

“For the right role” he nodded.

“Shame” you said making him furrow his eyebrows again, the same creases appearing.

“Why’s that?” he said, leaning forward slightly, your faces close together.

“You looked really hot” you said, making him cough nervously which just made you smirk. He thought wow this girl really likes messing with me and leant back a little bit, not knowing what to say.

“Your fans sure think so.” you said, squeezing his hand.

“Haha, maybe I’ll grow it back” he said, making you giggle.

“Maybe not yet, Geralt with a moustache…I’m just not seeing it” you said, both of you laughing loudly.

“Do you want to stay here for a bit longer? Or we could go somewhere else?” he asked.

“We could go somewhere else?” you said making him nod.

“My car is just outside, I could show you my house, you can meet my cats” you said, making Henry smile.

“Yeah I’m up for that. Didn’t picture you as a cat person” he said making you chuckle.

“I’m both. I love dogs but I grew up with cats, when I moved here we agreed as a family that it's best if I am the one to look after our family cats” you said, making Henry nod along.

“Ready to leave then?” he said, making you nod, you called Jess over.

"Don't work too hard now okay? Still up for coming round on the weekend for a movie night?" you said, the both of you standing up. She nodded and hugged you tightly.

“It was lovely to meet you Jess” Henry said, shaking her hand which made her blush again. The both of you then left, and you walked Henry to your car. It was a black audi and Henry imagined you driving something smaller but thought it was cool that you drove a car like this.

"This is me" you said, making him smile and walk to the other door, opening it and sliding in. You got in the driver's seat, turning on the engine, your music began to blast and you quickly turned it down, apologising for the noise.

"Nice car. Pictured you driving something smaller" he said, making you chuckle.

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises" you said, beginning to drive to your house. The journey was filled with the both of you walking about music, working out, filming, conservation, games, books... You arrived at your house, parking on your drive. You opened the door and Henry walked to you and smiled down at you.

"This is nice" he said as he looked up to your small house, you leant forward and placed your head on his chest, he leant down and kissed the top of it making you smile. His fingers grasped your chin and lifted your head so your eyes met. He slowly leant in a placed his lips against yours, you had missed this, missed the feeling of his soft lips against yours, missed how his tongue ran perfectly across your bottom lip, easing your mouth open slightly, you had thought about this a few times when he was away was and wondered when the next time you got to do this would be. You sighed happily against him now it was actually happening again. His hands grasped your waist tightly, lightly pushing you against the side of your car, you gasped as your back hit the car, his lips moving feverishly against yours, your hands were resting against his chest, running along it, down over his abs, resting on his hips. His tongue felt amazing against yours and you could feel him resting against your core. Kissing him was a surreal feeling, you had only kissed a few times but every time you felt the same way, it was new and exciting and you knew you would never get used to it. You pushed him away lightly, not wanting to get carried away, especially in front of your house where all your neighbours could see. His breathing matched you, deep and uneven.

"Sorry, just really wanted to do that. Have since I saw you yesterday" he said, his forehead resting against yours, his hand still on your waist.

"It's okay. We just shouldn't get too carried away" you said, placing a peck against his lips, he took a step back, creating some space between you to alleviate some of the tension.

You took his hand in yours, leading him up the small steps to your house, you took your key out of your bag, opening the door and stepping inside the threshold. One of your cats, Marley, instantly came running to the door, meowing up at you making you coo at him. You took a few more steps, turning round to see Henry closing your door, he leant down to stroke him.

“Hello, nice to meet you” he said, rubbing behind your cat's ears. You smiled down at him and his eyes met yours before he stood back up.

“That's Marley” you said, gesturing towards the cat.

“This is really nice.” he said, walking behind you into your living room.

“Thanks.” you said, moving your laptop off your sofa and gesturing for Henry to take a seat.

“Would you like anything? Some water? A coffee” you said making him shake his head, instead he grabbed your hip and pulled you towards him, making you squeal slightly in shock, he pulled you until you were sitting in his lap, your legs flicking to the side, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“There, that's all I want” he said, making you smile, your hand came up to his hair, fiddling with the bits that had fallen, the other grasping the back of his neck lightly..

“Think your hair is longer than before” you said, your voice coming out much quieter than you had intended it to.

“Hmm, maybe” he said, looking down at your lips again. You both gasped as your other cat jumped up behind the both of you, making Henry turn his head to see what it was.

“Jesus that scared the crap out of me” Henry said, making you both laugh.

“Meet Milly” you said, stroking her head gently.

“Hi.” Henry said, his own hand stroking her lightly. She jumped back down, strutting off into another room. Henry looked back towards you, his eyes instantly flicking down to your lips again making you blush.

“I can’t get enough of you” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours as his eyes closed. Your fingers were grasping the hairs at the back of his neck making him hum against you, he moved forward and inch, his lips barely touching yours. Everything felt so intense, every touch ignited sparks, every sweet word or compliment had you blushing, every kiss shook your core and you knew he felt it too.

“Henry” you uttered, making his eyes dart open, you looked into each other's eyes, his eyes flicked from yours to your lips before they crashed down against them. You gasped against him bruising your lips against his. It was messy and passionate, like nothing you had ever experienced before. His tongue became familiar with yours again, pushing against each other, he tilted his head, kissing you at a better angle, a more comfortable one, you felt him suck the tip of your tongue, the feeling was new but my oh my it felt good. You didn’t want to stop kissing him but you knew you would get carried away if you didn’t. You moved back slightly, placing sweet kisses against his lips trying to lighten everything. Henry’s head fell back against the sofa, he sighed deeply (clearly trying to calm himself down, you’ve only been on two dates Henry, calm down he thought to himself) before looking in your eyes again. His eyes were dark, the usual blue shade nearly taken up completely by darkness, he pulled you closer, his head resting against your neck and he placed soft and sweet kisses there.

"I liked seeing how you were with Jess earlier, it was really sweet, you can tell she looks up to you" Henry said, saying what was on his mind as he placed sweet kisses to your neck.

"She's amazing. Her parents aren’t around that much, they're both super busy and hard working because they both work in a hospital. So when I first moved here I went to introduce myself and she was on her own. I felt super bad so I invited her around here whenever I was free. It's nice, she's like the younger sister I always wanted but never had" you said, making you Henry look at you.

"I'm so impressed by you." he said, making you blush, not expecting that from him.

"Don't blush, it's true. I'm not easily impressed but I'm struggling to find a single flaw in you" he said. You were speechless not knowing what to say, his hands were cradling your face sweetly.

"I could say the same for you" you said, brushing your nose against his.

"I have many flaws, believe you me" he said chuckling to himself.

"I doubt that very much. I have some of my own too, but they make me who I am. I don't let them get me down but instead just try to be the best me I can be" you said, Henry had a dumbfounded look upon his face making you furrow your eyebrows at him.

"What?" you said, shrugging your shoulders at him and crossing your arms.

"You're just perfect. Even the fact you said that makes you perfect" he said making you laugh.

"You're in over your head Henry" you said, wrapping your arms back round his shoulders.

"Maybe, maybe not" he replied, kissing you sweetly.

"I had a really nice time today, it was good to catch up. Feels like we just picked up things from where we left off, it's nice, feels right" he said, you nodded letting him know you agreed.

"I had a really nice time too. And yeah I thought it might have been awkward or something but it wasn't. Feels right like you said"

"I should probably get back, Kal's probably driving my mum crazy" he said, you nodded and got up from his lap, he stood up shortly after you, placing his hands around your waist again to pull you in for a hug.

"Need me to drive you back?" you said, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

"That'd be amazing thank you, I walked to the café" he said.

On the drive back you decided to tell Henry what was on your mind.

“I know we haven’t known each other that long and we’ve only been on two dates… but i feel like this is where I’m meant to be in my life right now… with you, getting to know you” you said, glancing to the passenger seat where he was sitting.

“I’m so glad you said that. I feel the same way. I’m excited about this, I haven’t felt this way in a long time, I feel this need to be around you and if I’m honest I don’t want to fight it. Who knows what’s going to happen or where I will be in a month's time but I want to spend this time I have here with you ” he said, holding your hand as you drove, his words made your heart burst.

“Let's do it then” you said, looking over at him.

“Let's do it.” he said, kissing your hand.

You pulled up to Henry’s childhood home when instructed and placed the car in park, turning to look at him.

“Your childhood home is huge” you said, glancing at the house.

“We’re a big family” he replied, holding your hand. You lent against the headrest and Henry’s free hand came to rest against your face making you close your eyes and lean against him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I can pick you up at yours?” he asked, making you open your eyes and nod at him with a small smile on your face.

“Sounds perfect” you said, both leaning in for one last small kiss.

“See you tomorrow” he said, as he opened the door. You watched him walk inside, opening the door you saw his dog Kal jump at him, a look of pure joy and love on Henry’s face as he looked down at him and you smiled to yourself, this man is truly something special you thought.

Let’s do this you thought to yourself, Henry turned around and smiled at you, waving you goodbye. You didn’t know what this was going to be, but it was sure going to be spectacular.

Part 3

163 notes · View notes

stxrrywildflower · 4 years

Text

pride and joy

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - you feel neglected after rossi reconnects with joy

warnings - none

word count - ?

you had to find out from morgan of all people what was going on with your dad.

like most days, you had headed right to the fbi building directly after school. whenever the team didn’t have a case, you just met rossi at quantico and stayed until he headed home. sure there were days where you went home instead but you loved being around the bau team, especially because they were more then happy to joke around and even help with homework.

today was no different. rossi had given you your own personal visitors pass awhile back. after flashing that to the security guard with a smile, you were let in and headed over to the elevators.

spencer and emily were the ones to greet you when you stepped out into the sixth floor. “oh hi!” you greeted, not expecting to see them out of the bullpen. “hey y/n, we have to head down to the police station to pick up the usual batch of reports. everyone else should be inside,” emily explained.

with one final wave to the two agents, you pushed open the glass doors and stepped in. just like emily and spencer had said, almost everyone else was in the bullpen. j.j. and derek were talking at their desks while hotch was up in his office. the only issue was that your dads office was completely empty.

derek smiled when he noticed your noticed your presence and motioned for you to join them. you grabbed a chair from one of the desks and pulled it up so you could sit. “little rossi! how was school?” derek questioned. you laughed slightly at the nickname. “eh it was okay. i’m just happy summer vacation is soon,” you started, “hey where’s my dad?”

“i’m not one hundred percent sure but i think he’s out for a late lunch with joy,” derek replied, looking towards j.j. for confirmation.

“yeah he’s with joy,” j.j. piped up from her desk.

you spun around, extremely confused at that statement. “who’s joy?” you asked.

both j.j. and derek’s heads snapped up at your question. you could tell a silent conversation was going on between the two as you just continued to look back and forth. “you don’t know?” j.j. finally said. “know what? you’re kinda scaring me,” you spoke shakily.

derek motioned for you to follow him. you left your backpack by his desk and walked up to the conference room. j.j. was right behind you though she stopped in to talk to hotch. finally, once she returned, the two stood in front of you while jumped up and sat on the table. “can you please just explain what’s going on?” you pleaded.

“my dad has another kid?” you spoke up after j.j. and derek has explained, “i have a sister.” the combination of desperation and slight anger in your voice made both of the profilers shoot you sympathetic looks. “look y/n, this whole thing has been a shock to him and he’s just trying to reconnect with her. but trust me on this, he loves you all the same,” derek reasoned.

you really didn’t know how to describe how you felt. the only emotion you could feel was betrayal. your dad had been gone recently, not to work late but to go reunite with his secret daughter he couldn’t even tell you about.

“i’m going to head home. dad isn’t here anyway so i don’t want to bother you,” you mumbled, getting off of the table. j.j. and derek looked at each other once more. they knew it must have been like a bomb of information being dropped on you. “i’ll lead you out,” j.j. offered. derek shot you one more smile as you exited the conference room and headed down the catwalk.

you didn’t get to confront your dad for two or so days. in that time, you did everything you could to attempt to distance yourself in such a short period of time. you didn’t go to the bureau after school but instead headed home to do homework. dinner was easily avoided as you had lied and said you had studying or didn’t feel great.

except, tonight you were set to watch henry while j.j. and will went out for a friday night dinner. you could avoid your dad as he was cooking on the stove and you needed to go through the kitchen to leave the house. sure, you could do continue pushing the confrontation off but if you did it tonight, you could leave and further distance yourself. after choosing the later option, you grabbed your bag and headed downstairs. once in the kitchen, you drummed your fingers against your thigh, waiting for the right moment to say something.

“why didn’t you tell me about joy?”

the question made rossi stop cooking for a split second before turning to face you. “what?” your dad asked. you knew he had heard exactly what you said.

“i went to the bau a couple days ago and you weren’t there. so i talked to morgan and j.j. and they told me you were out with someone named joy. well of course i asked who joy was and,” you trailed off at the end.

“look y/n,” rossi started. you cut him off, “all you had to do was sit down with me and explained the situation. but instead, i had to find out from one of your work friends that i have a sister. how do you think i feel?”

“figlia i’m sorry. i wanted to get to know joy before actually introduced you,” rossi attempted to reason.

“whatever, i have to go to j.j.’s anyway. her and will asked me to babysit henry tonight,” you sighed.

“you didn’t tell me that,” rossi commented.

“man i wonder what that’s like rossi?” you fired back. after picking up your bag once again, you left the house without another word.

that was the exact moment rossi realized he had really screwed up. you only ever called him ‘rossi’ when you were extremely mad. it only happened once before, when he had gotten hurt in a case and you had scolded him in the hospital.

j.j. knew you were upset the second she answered the door, still clipping a necklace around her neck. “hey j,” you spoke quietly, shuffling slightly out of pure nervousness. “i talked to my dad. well i mean define talked.”

that was explanation enough for j.j. as she pulled you into a gentle hug. “i’ll have plenty of time to dwell on it while me and henry hang out. you two go have fun,” you smiled, motioning to will who was just coming down the stairs. j.j. moved around the house, grabbing the last couple things she needed. “alright we’re heading out. you know where everything is and i’ll text you on my way home,” j.j. informed you. with one final goodbye, the two parents left the house.

after cooking dinner and playing with henry for a little, it was time to put the young boy to bed. he had been pretty resistant as always but after you promised to read a bedtime story, he was happy to go to bed. you read him one of his favorites. by the end of the book, henry was already closing his eyes. you smiled down at him before shutting off the lights and heading downstairs.

while henry was asleep upstairs, you turned on the tv to a random movie while you curled up on the couch. this was common for you, j.j. had been pretty direct with letting you know that you could watch whatever while you were over. as the movie played on, your mind began to drift into the current situation you were stuck in.

part of you understood your dad reasoning. while your understanding was pretty small, you still sort of got it. if joy was absent from his life for so long, he had the right to reunite with her and make up for the years lost. but was he replacing you? it sure felt like that.

but the other part of you was angry. you grew up having the bau team as your extended family and pretty much siblings. now, you had a sister. sure the whole relation was a bit twisted but joy was still your sister. you had every right to be owed at least an explanation on the whole thing. you didn’t even have to meet joy. correction, you didn’t even know if you wanted to meet joy.

it was incredibly dumb to be crying over but you couldn’t help the few tears that fell down your cheeks. you and your dad never fought. this whole thing was becoming increasingly stressful and not being able to talk to your dad was making it worse.

j.j. and will were back by the time you had managed to calm down. the profiler saw right through your facade of ‘i’m fine’ when she asked how you were. nonetheless, you had brushed off their offer of payment and headed home. watching henry was no issue and you were always willing to help.

by the time you arrived home, all the lights were off meaning rossi was most likely asleep. you wquickly got ready for bed, slipping under the covers after that and relaxing in for the night.

you ended up making the ultimate decision to just push all the emotions you were feeling in the back of the head. if rossi was genuinely more happy, then you needed to be a supportive daughter. it was the least you could do.

for the next week, you put on smile around your father. when school didn’t keep you busy, you always ate dinners with rossi or sat with him while he did paperwork. joy was rarely mentioned, and you were slightly thankful for that.

“dad! i’m home!” you called once you entered the house, slipping off your shoes first. “i can’t stay for super long. j.j. needs me to babysit again in i think about hour.”

your earbuds were still playing your favorite song as you shuffled through the house, swapping out your school bag for a backpack you took whenever you either went somewhere or babysat. before leaving, you figured you might as well get something to eat.

when you entered the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks. standing by the coffee machine was a brunette woman, dressed in a simple outfit of jeans and a sweater. she must have noticed your presence and turned around to face you, a slight smile forming on her face.

after taking your earbuds out of your ear and tossing your phone on the counter, you swallowed nervously. who was this woman? you knew rossi would never let anybody in the house and she didn’t exactly look threatening.

“ah, welcome home figlia. school okay?” your dad asked, suddenly appearing in the kitchen. you nodded as a response, keeping your eyes focused on the still mystery woman. “well y/n, i figured it was finally time for you to meet joy.”

your eyes widened slightly. standing right in front of you was the woman who had been on your mind for over a week. the woman who was your sister. and here you were, standing directly across from one another, neither moving to initiate a conversation.

“y/n this is joy. joy this is y/n,” rossi introduced, motioning back and forth. “well i need to head back to work. hotch had a case file he needed me to look at.” you absolutely couldn’t believe what your dad was saying. he was just going to leave you? not even bother to stick around to see how this would play out?

when rossi finally left, the door closing with a thud, joy finally turned to make eye contact with you. “so you must be my sister,” she started. “i could say the same for you,” you replied. a tense laugh was shared between you two.

“can i hug you?”

the question itself took you slightly off guard. “we just met and you already want to hug me?” you asked though your tone was extremely light-hearted. “i mean yeah, if it’s okay with you. i’ve missed out on way to many years with both you and dad. i just figured a hug could be the perfect start to our new sibling bond.”

with a smile on your face, you stepped forward hugging joy tightly. the whole thing just felt natural, like a hug you would receive from a sibling after something good happened in your life.

when rossi returned a little bit later, just like you, he stopped once he entered the kitchen. joy was cooking over the stove, most likely a lunch for the two of you as you talked on and on from the counter. the senior profiler just smiled at the interaction.

he finally had his pride and joy together at last.

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #derek morgan #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia #bau team #bau team x teen reader

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enchanted--realm · 3 years

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When Calls the Heart Live Rambles

Season finale, s8 ep12 The Kiss

So this was such an awful finale. Everything leading to this moment made absolutely no sense. Before we get into the whole thing, let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start *sing like Julie Andrews*

Noooo, Henry is leaving!!! I kinda suspected this already, but I didn't want it to actually happen. Man, when Abigail left she really dragged everyone else with her: Cody and now Henry *le sigh*

Clara running to Jesse when he arrived was so sweet.

I wish Faith were leaving instead of Carson.

I absolutely love Rosemary and her newspaper business. And finally Elizabeth apologized. Goodness.

Now the triangle. I need to do this very calmly or else I will explode.

When Elizabeth spoke to Nathan saying she was just trying to replace Jack with him, that she loves him but isnt IN LOVE with him. Yo I just about fell out of my seat. I was so scared. That was the first time I ever doubted she wouldnt be with Nathan. But then the whole scene at the saloon between Nathan and Lucas made me think Lucas is still hesitant about Elizabeth's feelings, so maybe this love triangle isnt over yet.

Then when she opened that package where her book was and it read A Single Mother...that's when I was like. Oh my gosh she chooses no one. She chooses Baby Jack Jack and the 'the kiss' actually DOES refer to a kiss on the cheek. I thought my awful joke that I posted earlier was coming true. But then I suspected, okay, there's no way she's picking Lucas. If she doesn't feel in love with Nathan yet, then she will later in s9.

Then, the minutes kept passing by. Its 9:50pm and I'm thinking to myself 'wait a minute. Is this enough time to resolve things with Nathan?' And then I got really scared. More minutes passed and she hadn't broken things off for good with Lucas. I could only start to think that there is only time left in the episode for a conversation with Lucas and that's it.

When Elizabeth was at the school house and Robert brought little Jack with him. I was like, 'omg my theory is coming true. It is a kiss on the cheek to Jack Jack because she chooses him and to be a single mom,' then later she can choose Nathan without a love triangle plot.'

Next...

The last few minutes of the episode. She's looking for Lucas and looking very much in distress and I'm super confused at this point and also scared and slightly in denial. 'She can't be choosing Lucas?' And then I realize what the writers are doing. 'Ohmygosh she's choosing Lucas' and then I watch the rest of the episode in horror and I'm covering my eyes because I can't watch that kiss and then ew ew ew so MANY kisses yuck.

Elizabeth choosing Lucas doesn't make any sense storytelling wise, regardless of any bias I have towards Nathan. There was so much build up for Elizabeth and Nathan's relationship. A solid foundation had been built between them, something that a real relationship could grow from and become love. Whenever Lucas and Elizabeth had scenes it was so surface level. They had some connection through her writing career but even that wasnt very deep. Everything else in their relationship, the fancy dinners and romantic dates, that's really all they were. It was all just romance and the feelings of love without having any true depth of feeling. And not once did Lucas or Elizabeth ever mention the word love with each other.

And what about ep2 of this season when Nathan confessed his love to Elizabeth and she ran away because she was scared? It showed how she was running from her feelings and living in fear and when she ran away to pursue Lucas afterwards, it showed how Lucas was only a crutch for her and a comfortable relationship rather than something true and real. Because news flash, loving someone is actually being vulnerable and taking a leap of faith which she would have been doing if she were with Nathan, not with Lucas. She isn't taking any risk by opening her heart to Lucas. There isnt any vulnerability in their relationship on Elizabeth's part there.

And what about the Emerson quote, about doing what you're afraid to do. And what about Nathan's cringey parallel with Carson 'I'm not giving up', and what about Allie's feelings in all this and her wanting Elizabeth as a mother, and what about the ep with Ned and Florence's wedding when Elizabeth starts to take her own advice about not living in fear and that we can't let fear stop us from missing out on life's greatest joys? I'm sure there's lots more too that I'm missing here but that's what I could think of just at the top of my head.

Also, Nathan was saved that day he didnt go on the mission at Fort Clay. He was saved for a reason and now for what? For a Lucas ending? They totally filmed two versions of the ending and then decided last minute who she should end up. It actually makes sense too because when she first talks to Lucas, what? She's gonna confess her love to Lucas in the middle of a crowded cafe? As if! She was gonna break up with him there. She really was there just to see Minnie. They had the scene interrupted so that it could sort of make sense with whichever ending they wanted to decide upon later.

I'm so annoyed with the writers. They obviously did this for shock value. There are so many tv shows that do this but an audience doesnt watch a show for shock, they watch it for the story. Just bc something is shocking doesnt make it good storytelling. Shock value is only good when it makes sense upon looking back. This does not. A good story can usually be predicted by the audience actually. From what I've seen on social media, it seems that the majority of viewers wanted and predicted that Elizabeth would be with Nathan. This is for a reason. A good story sets up the relationship and gives clues and leads the viewer along to grand reveal later. It all makes sense to the audience. It's suppose to be a good story and an enjoyable ride for the audience. A show shouldnt be written as the season is happening, everything should be concluded or at least have a very clear ending to work towards. I hate how writers just decide to change things in an instant because then all the moments prior to the present episode make no sense and it was all for nothing.

This finale literally made me sick to my stomach. They did this story so dirty and I'm also upset that now, the actress who plays Allie, she probably won't be in the show much anymore which is a real shame because she was pretty good for a child actress and I just like to support the youth coming into their own.

I am not going to watch s9. Catch me fulfilling my heartie needs on fanficiton.net and also, I pray that we get leaked footage of this Elizabeth chooses Nathan ending that I am sure was filmed. Also the episode was called 'The Kiss' which is very vague and not specific to either relationship. Which is another hint to the writers leaving things open so they could make last minute decisions on who they wanted her to choose.

So disappointed. From what I see on twitter and everywhere else on the internet, this show will tank next season because no one will watch it. Lori Loughlin really said if I go down then the show goes down with me.

Jack died for this????

#when calls the heart #wcth #when calls the heart live

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thepandamightwrite · 4 years

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Jessa Wedding

Word count: 1.7k (this turned out a lot longer than I expected)

Fluff or Angst

Stuff to know: A suggen is the person that escorts a shadowhunter to their fiance during the wedding. More info here (You have to scroll down to the wedding part)

Anyway, hope y’all enjoy this cause it was super fun to write! 💕

“Is this really necessary?” asked Jem. “Oh yes, absolutely,” responded Magnus. He was really taking the wedding seriously, as were all the other Shadowhunters. Alec, Jace, Simon, Julien and Emma had accompanied him to the shop where they were getting Jem’s gear specially tailored. He felt it was highly excessive of course, he didn’t really care what he wore as long as he actually got to marry Tessa this time. However, Magnus adamantly refused to listen to any protests and took it upon himself to manage Jem’s wardrobe. “Have you decided who’s gonna be your Suggen for the wedding?” asked Emma. She was incredibly excited for the celebration, and she had nominated herself as the chief wedding planner, a job she took quite seriously. “Ummm what’s a Suggen,” inquired Simon, who wasn’t quite familiar with Shadowhunter weddings yet. “The person that escorts the bride or groom down the aisle, which is a huge honor,” responded Jace, sounding like he was reciting from the Codex. “So, what are you going to do,” asked Alec. Unfortunately, Jem didn’t have an answer for him, after all, the only person he would want to escort him to Tessa had died years ago. A few months ago, he would never have even imagined that he’d be able to get married, and if it ever did happen, he would want Will to be there. Sadly, that was unlikely to happen, so Jem had to pick someone else. Unfortunately, there weren’t many people that he was close with that were still alive. There was Magnus, Emma, and perhaps Jace, although none of them seemed right. “Voila,” Magnus exclaimed. The group gathered and nodded approvingly at the outfit. Even Jem managed a grin through his increasing worry.

“Achooo,” exclaimed Isabelle as the werewolf escorting the tulips out passed her by. “Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry about this,” apologized Tessa, as she had been all afternoon. She had entrusted Ragnor to arrange for some nice flowers, and of course he’d picked the one kind Isabelle was severely allergic to. “Oh don’t worry about it Tessa,” she responded breezily, although her nose was red and her eyes watery due to the constant sneezing. “I’m just excited you’re getting married to Jem, for real this time,” Isabelle squealed before a bout of sneezes overtook her. “Yeah,” chimed Clary, who was festooning the trees with lights. Tessa still couldn’t believe that she was getting married, again, next week. It was almost like a dream, she thought people only got to be with the love of their life once, if they were lucky. She, on the other hand, was able to marry them both. Her heart suddenly ached for her first husband, Will, whom she missed dearly. She had shared everything with him, when he was alive, and she couldn’t have imagined it any other way. It felt wrong somehow, that her wedding with Jem, something she knew Will would be thrilled about, was the one thing she would never tell him. “Tessa!” called Isabelle. “You’ve picked your Suggen, right?” “No, I actually haven’t,” she responded, slightly fatigued with the whole business. “What?! The wedding is tomorrow! You have to decide soon!” exclaimed Clary from the other end of the garden. “Yes, I know, I know,” Tessa sighed. “It’s just that a Suggen has to be someone that is incredibly special to you, and the only person I can think of is no longer alive.” Both the girls looked over at Tessa with sad eyes. “I’m sure Will knows you’re getting married, wherever he is, and he’s going to be ecstatic about it, don’t worry,” consoled Clary. “Yes, you’re right,” Tessa conceded. “I’ll just have to come up with someone else, maybe Magnus….”

Clary, Isabelle, Emma, Jace, Alec and Magnus huddled behind a tree, trying to desperately shield the pentagram from passerby. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” sighed Alec. “Dude, face it, this isn’t even close to the craziest thing we’ve done, am I right?” retorted Jace. “That’s true,” acknowledged Clary with the soft smile she reserved just for her boyfriend. “However, we haven’t exactly tried to bring back the dead.” “We’re not bringing back the dead, just conjuring a ghost. They’re not the same thing,” clarified Magnus, looking up from the spellbook briefly. “Alright, it’s showtime,” he said with a wicked grin.”

Jem couldn’t get his jacket on for some reason. His hands were shaking like butterflies and he lost all his usual dexterity that he’d developed over years of violin playing. “Let me help you with that fy nghariad,” offered a familiar voice. Jem whirled around at the sound of the person he hadn’t heard in a hundred years. He leaned against the doorframe, his mused ink-black hair falling into those familiar piercing blue eyes. “Will,” Jem whispered in disbelief. “How are you even here?” He asked, still unable to comprehend what he saw before him. “Magnus summoned me from the afterlife, yanked me out of an argument with Gabriel too. It was a good one actually, I was definitely winning it, you see-” Will was cut off by Jem running up and swallowing him in the most consuming hug he’d ever been given. They both murmured senseless words of reassurance to each other in hopes of processing the strangeness of it all. They whispered of the day Will won the bet that bound them as parabatai. They hummed of the day they defeated Mortmain. They mumbled of James, Lucie, Charlotte, Henry, Gabriel, Gideon, Sophie and Cecily. They whispered of their friendship and the love that extended through death. And most of all, they muttered of Tessa and the all consuming feelings they both shared for her. And- “ACK!” Will shrieked followed by a string of Welsh curses that would make any sailor whistle with appreciation. He glared down at Church who looked up at Will, his eyes flashing with recognition and mischief. Jem couldn’t help but giggle as he realized the best solution to his and Tessa’s Suggon dilemma.

Tessa stared at her reflection in her mirror. It was her wedding day. She really ought to be more excited, but she couldn’t help but miss the gaze of a certain pair of blue eyes. And then, as if she had summoned him with her thoughts alone, a familiar figure appeared next to her reflection. “Tessa, fy nghariad, oh how I’ve missed you.” She gasped, unable to believe her eyes and ears at the person standing behind her. “Will, how on earth did you get here?” “Well, the door was unlocked so I turned the handle and stepped inside, I’m sure you’re aware of how the mechanism works,” he retorted with his trademark sarcastic drawl. Tessa let out a sob and flung herself into his translucent arms, which were still somehow solid and familiar against her. His hands absentmindedly stroked her back as he murmured,“Tess, my Tessa, you know I’d never miss you and Jem’s wedding for the world for not even death can keep us apart.” Tessa gasped in shock. “Oh no! The wedding! It’s starting now! But I haven’t even picked a Suggen!” Tessa exclaimed in a panic. “What are you talking about my dear, I’m right here,” said Will with a crooked grin.

“Where are they? Jem and Tessa should’ve been here 20 minutes ago,” said Simon, his voice jittery with nerves and his eyes glancing around furtively. “I’m not sure. It’s not like them to be late to anything, much less their own wedding,” mused Isabelle. Out of the group, only Magnus seemed to be at ease, laughing at something Ragnor was saying. Suddenly, Jem appeared and started walking towards the altar. Jace observed with a curious look on his face, after all, no one appeared to be escorting Jem. As he neared their seats however, they noticed the Suggen at his feet. “Church?!?!” Emma sputtered in disbelief. Jem turned and looked at them with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Why yes, he’s one of my closest companions and we’ve been through thick and thin together, so why not?” Jace, Clary, and Isabelle started giggling uncontrollably and soon everyone was joining in. However, Alec was staring incredulously at Jem and soon asked, “What about the ghost we summoned?!?!” Jem looked over his shoulder and grinned. “You’ll see.”

Tessa looked over at Will and was reassured to find his eyes as bright and supportive as they had been when he was alive. He squeezed her hand tightly and they started walking towards her fiance. It was almost poetic really, her deceased husband guiding her toward his parabatai, the only other person whom he trusted to love Tessa. As she walked towards him, Jem ran his eyes over her adoringly and she saw the look of recognition in his eyes when he took in her dress. After all, it was almost identical to the one she’d worn when they slayed Benedict Lightwood, which was her original wedding gown. It felt like time slowed down as she and Will floated towards the person that completed their love triangle (and the cat they hated) and out of the 3 of them, there wasn’t a dry eye in sight. When Tessa went to stand next to Jem, she noticed the strange markings on his gear jacket. Since neither of them were full shadowhunters, they had to adapt the wedding traditions to suit their needs. In his case, what would normally be golden runes on his jacket became motifs of the clockwork angel that had protected her so many centuries ago. “Because I too will never let any harm come to you,” murmured Jem when he noticed Tessa’s expression.

After reciting their elegant vows that they’d carefully crafted for the occasion, Jem and Tessa finally exchanged rings and kissed, sealing their marriage forever. Will stood smiling off to the side, next to his archnemesis, Church, who was scowling disapprovingly at him. He was absolutely ecstatic, after all, here were two of the most important people in his life committing to a life of joy and togetherness. Although he wasn’t a particularly sentimental person, Will’s vision was warped and swimming through a lens of joyous tears. At last, the ceremony was over and everyone was dancing slowly to the lulling piano music fondly extracted from the delicate instrument by a very handsome blond man. He must be a Herondale, Will thought. After all, that self assured attitude and the love in his eyes when he saw a particularly striking red headed lady could only come from somewhere. Suddenly, two familiar hands clasped at each of his shoulders. Will turned, looked at the loves of his life who looked as content as he’d ever seen them. Wordlessly, they all clasped hands and headed off to be alone.

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thejollyroger-writer · 4 years

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Heart and Soul - Part 2

SUMMARY: Private music teacher Killian Jones wakes one morning to the sound of his ten year old neighbor playing the bane of his existence: the recorder. In order to keep his sanity, he offers to teach Henry to play any other instrument – though partially because it means he gets to spend more time with Henry’s mother, Emma Swan.

READ PART ONE: ao3 // tumblr // // PART TWO ON AO3

TW: mentions of alcoholism, abusive parents, backstory that goes a little deeper than necessary -- you know, the things I do best, apparently.

a/n: This fic was inspired by waking up one morning over the summer to hear my neighbor playing the trumpet – though, thankfully, Sam is a much better musician than a beginner recorder-player. I complained about it on discord, and bam! this story appeared, a joint effort between myself and Meredith (@captainsjedi) . Even though she was unable to help me finish it because of her busy work schedule, her ideas are riddled through the story, not to mention the incredible art she made for it.

Thanks to @csconcertseries and @clockadile, who gave me a reason to finish this story! It feels really good to actually finish something that I’ve been working on in the midst of the chaos of the world right now, so even though the event was a month ago, I’m still super thankful for the opportunity.

-- -- --

Waking up to a message from Tink Greene on an October Thursday morning is one of the last things he expected, not having spoken to her besides the friendly neighborhood hellos since he broke off their dalliance the previous spring.

The contents of the message are even more of a surprise:

I've been hearing Henry Swan play in one of the practice rooms, and I think he would make a great addition to our student showcase for the Winter concert. He told me you've been teaching him, which explains a lot. Do you think you and he could work together on something by the beginning of December for him to play?

Of course, the first thing he wants to do is share the news with Emma. He should probably shower first. And maybe actually answer Tink.

I think that’s a grand idea. Henry has shown more growth than some of my adult students. Could you get me a song in the next week or so?

Her response comes rather quickly, given the original message was from two hours before, but he imagines there’s not much for the elementary music teacher to do all day. I’m thinking either First Noel or Hark the Herald Angels. It depends on which the recorder students are better at. He also may play it with a beginner violin student, Violet, who’s doing exceptionally well. I think he knows her.

He wonders if this is the same Violet from his soccer team, the one the boy has brought up a few times in conversation — but Tink doesn’t need to know that. Hell, he probably shouldn’t even know that, though he’s thankful that Henry trusts him enough to update him on his life during their lessons or some of the nights Killian finds himself staying for dinner.

But he still needs a response. Thanks again for those recorder students, by the way. I turned down a whole dozen of them within the first two weeks of school, the infernal instrument.

When Tink only responds with a few emojis — he tosses his phone back on the bed and pulls himself up, wondering if he is too late to meet Emma for her morning run.

So he texts her. Because that’s something they’re doing now, after her inviting him to some of Henry’s games and his joining them for dinner most nights after Henry’s lessons. It wouldn’t even be the first time she has allowed him to join her on her morning run, invited him into her place of safety and security.

(He would like to think of himself as a relatively fit human, but even he will admit that three miles, Emma’s regular distance, is a little much for him to start with, though he has been working on it more and more.)

Is it too late for me to join in on the day’s physical activities?

Even he is surprised by the pounding of his heart in his chest as he rummages through his drawers to try to find his athletic shorts, waiting for her answer, hoping for a positive.

The soft ding of her response almost causes him to jump out of his skin. Just getting ready to go, actually. I’ll meet you outside?

Perfect, is all he needs to say, splashing some cold water in his face as he stares at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t even realize the strong grip he has on the edge of the sink until he lets go to reach for his toothbrush.

“Christ, Killian,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head as he runs his toothbrush under the water. It’s only a run.

But his nerves don’t disappear. If anything, they only grow exponentially, and by the time he meets her on the sidewalk outside her house, he is almost shaking from the adrenaline.

Good thing they’re going for a run, exerting this pent-up energy. He may even be able to keep up with her the whole time.

He spends the first block trying to figure out how to bring up his exciting news. And the second. But when she starts to slow down, asks him how his week has gone, he can’t keep it in any longer.

“Henry’s music teacher asked me this morning if I thought he should perform in the winter showcase.”

He can sense her excitement almost immediately, even before she slows to a stop, wiping the smooth sheen of sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her t-shirt before turning to him, the smile on her face making the physical exertion worth it. “And?”

“Of course I agreed. I know I’ve told you before, love, but your son is a very talented musician.”

She is still for a moment, looking somewhere over his shoulder, before she nods, gesturing for them to continue. “So, what, would it be a solo? Or would he be playing something with you?”

“Actually, Tink mentioned asking one of the girls in his class to play with him. A violinist, I think.”

“I wonder if it’s the same girl from his soccer team. He told me they met in orchestra, and I think that’s what she plays.”

“Violet, right? That’s what Tink said”

“Yeah, I think so. He’s got a bit of a crush, if you ask me, but don’t say anything to him about it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

“That’s so exciting, though. The kid deserves some excitement, with all the shit his dad is putting him through.”

At first, Killian isn’t sure that Emma even meant to say it, if they’re at that point in their friendship where she shares things like this with him.

“You know he’s trying to move away? Something about his dad giving him a job in the city, a corner highrise apartment, a position as a big shot in his company, when Neal can’t even manage to get his child support in on time every month.”

Now he really doesn’t know what to say — but she continues anyway.

“I try not to say anything bad about him around Henry, but my god, he just makes it so fucking difficult.”

Killian can’t help the chuckle that pushes through his lips. “I would assume my mum would have said the same about my father, if she ever had the chance.”

A moment too late, he realizes that it’s only the second time he’s mentioned his father, the only other being the first time they really talked when they shared lunch in her kitchen.

She doesn’t answer. He counts the time ticking away by their footsteps on the pavement, by the pounding of his heart in his chest.

She says nothing. They go almost a full block, slowing only to make sure they’re safe to cross the street.

He doesn’t know what he did. He doesn’t know what to do. So he just focuses on the pounding of his shoes against the pavement. Left, right, left, right.

“Sorry, I…” she says finally, the words going nowhere, but he feels the warmth of her fingers around his wrist, pulling him to a stop. “Can we go get lunch? Maybe that little place on Main Street? I know that’s not our regular route, it’s a little far out of the way, but—”

“Sure, love,” he says, not even needing to hear the rest of what she’s trying to say. Whatever it is, he will give her the time she needs to tell him — but there are more appropriate places for these sorts of conversations than on the sidewalk.

She asks the waitress for a table in the back, further away from the door and the line of regulars sitting at the bar, spending what feels like hours looking over the menu before the waitress returns with their drinks and to take their order. All she orders is a bowl of soup, Killian strangely in the mood for one of their salads, but the silence between them only returns when the waitress leaves their table.

Killian doesn’t mind, really. She decided that she wanted to tell him something, unlock some of the secrets of her past, which is more than he could have asked for.

“I was, uh, found outside an orphanage when I was just a few days old.”

Okay, it’s certainly not what he expected. It’s far more personal than he expected — but she’s telling him, and that’s the important part.

“I have no idea who my parents are, anything about my family, only that they wanted to name me Emma.”

Pausing, she takes a deep breath. A sip of her water. Her eyes don’t leave the spot on the table that they’re glued to.

He doesn’t mind.

“I was in and out of fosters for most of my childhood, and that’s how I met David. His mother was my last-ditch effort when I was seventeen, and if she didn’t work, I was going to be on my own. But, thankfully, she was an angel on this earth, and I spent a good few years with her, even after I aged out and as I went to college. I still think that’s why I kept coming back to Storybrooke, because it was the only place that felt like home, especially after everything that happened with Neal, except now he wants to leave Henry even more, move hours away to the city and see his own son even less than he does now.”

Still, Killian stays silent. If he’s honest with himself, he really doesn’t know what to say in the first place, and he gets the feeling that there aren’t very many people who just let Emma talk.

He will gladly be the one as often as she gives him the opportunity.

“Does Henry know that he’s trying to leave yet?”

She scoffs, looking up at him for a moment. Just a moment.

“I told him he had to be the one to tell Henry, to answer all of his questions. That he wasn’t allowed to just up and leave. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to do it anyway.”

“I know it might not be want you want to hear, love, but sometimes it’s better for the parent to just up and leave if that’s what they need to do. He’ll still have to get you child support, no matter where he is.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

He doesn’t even know how to read her voice. She doesn’t sound upset, per say, but there’s definitely something much deeper than just curiosity.

“It’s just what my mother used to say, that we’d probably be better off without him than with him. But I can only hope that Neal is nowhere near the terror that Brennan Jones was.”

She nods, the very corner of her lips ticking up for just a moment. Says nothing.

And then it hits him: “Though, I suppose having a terrible dad around is something compared to having no one, no matter how much you may wish he wasn’t there.”

“Jackpot,” she mumbles. “But as hard as it is to admit, Neal really isn’t a terrible person. He can even be a good dad, when he tries to be, and Henry really looks up to him, which I don’t think he realizes. I just don’t understand how he can choose a job over his own son.”

“Granted, I don’t have the pleasure of offspring yet, but I would like to believe that I would feel the same as you do.”

Finally, she smiles. Actually makes eye contact with him. Warms his heart a few degrees. Just as the waitress brings their food.

Henry practically perfects the song — The First Noel — before Thanksgiving break, a whole three weeks before the concert. Killian even reaches out to Violet’s parents to offer to have them practice together in his studio instead of after hours at the school — or at either of their houses, which is a move that both Emma and Violet’s parents appreciate.

(Plus, with Henry taking the lead on their rehearsals, it gives him more time to sit in the corner of the studio, talking with Emma.)

They’ve built up a fine friendship since the first day of school, adding more weekly dinners as a trio, with Killian even joining Emma’s gym to work out with her with the weather getting colder.

Killian would even go so far as to say Emma and her lad have become a regular part of her life, though he still didn’t expect the day when she asked him out, sitting across the table from her brother and next to her at the Thanksgiving dinner table.

(What was different about this time? He had been to dinners with them, had spent time alone with Emma, but there was something about this that was different. He would be willing to bet it was the setting, the pressure of the situation.)

“So, Henry, your mom told me about your solo in the winter concert!” Mary Margaret says excitedly, trying to find a subject that Henry can take part in, since most of Emma and David’s conversation has centered around work.

Killian turns to the boy, seated at the far end of the table, just in time to watch his face light up in a smile. “Technically, it’s a duet, me and this one girl in my class, Violet —”

“The one from your soccer team? With the purple streaks in her hair?” David asks, the rest of the table watching Henry’s face turn bright red.

"Oh!" Mary Margaret practically squeals, which makes every eye at the table turn towards her, which Killian is sure Henry is thankful for — until she continues. “Do you have a crush on her?”

Henry sighs, his eyes falling back to his plate as his cheeks continue to turn as red as his shirt. Instead of answering Mary Margaret’s question, he says, “You know, I never understood why that’s what they call it.” His voice is small, incredibly embarrassed, as he swirls his fork around his pile of mashed potatoes. “Why is it a crush?”

Emma laughs, gently setting her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Aw, come on, you don’t have to embarrass him,” she jokes.

“Well, then,” David says, setting his fork down on his plate so he can cross his arms across his chest. “Should we talk about your little crush instead?”

“David!” both Mary Margaret and Emma say at the same time, and Killian can’t keep the heat from rushing to his face.

Why are you embarrassed, you idiot? he asks himself, trying his best to keep his thoughts off his face. They’re not even talking about you.

Unless… they are.

He almost doesn’t allow himself to even think it. Because it’s insane to even assume it.

And then Emma rolls her eyes.

Looks at him.

Pulls her bottom lip up between her teeth.

Blushes deeper.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

He tries to act like he missed her look, turns his attention down to his plate of food, but he’s sure it doesn’t work.

“Why can we bring up Henry’s and embarrass the poor boy, but I can’t do the same to my sister?” David asks, a wide grin spread across his face. Without even meaning to, Killian’s gaze rises, meeting David’s from across the table.

David winks.

Shit.

“You’re at least going to his concert together, right?” David asks, the same smirk still covering his features.

“I mean, we hadn’t really discussed it, but—” Emma starts, but Henry cuts her off:

“You mean, like a date?”

“No,” both Killian and Emma try at the same time, but it doesn’t work.

Mary Margaret’s poker face falters, turning into a grin that seems to brighten her already-shining aura. David somehow looks even more smug, though Killian wouldn’t have thought it possible.

And Emma, whose gaze Killian is very purposefully avoiding, is turning redder by the moment.

He’s sure he is, too.

(Because he desperately wants it to be a date.)

The next three weeks pass in a bit of a blur, between the holiday drunks that Emma has to deal with at the station and the last-minute lessons before recitals and concerts. It feels like the blink of an eye between their conversation at Mary Margaret and David’s thanksgiving dinner and Killian knocking on the door of the Swan’s house, making sure his light blue shirt is tucked into his dark jeans as he waits for someone to let him in. The waistcoat may have been a little more than necessary for an elementary school concert, sure, but there was talk before of Neal taking Henry and some of his friends for ice cream, giving Emma and Killian a chance to go out for dinner together.

Maybe even like a date, he allows himself to think.

It’s Emma that opens the door, and when he sees the same red dress that he remembers from last year’s concert, he’s glad he decided to go with the waistcoat — he would have been undoubtedly under-dressed without it.

Because, damn is she perfect, her golden hair falling softly over her shoulders and her lips a shade of red almost as vibrant as her dress. He tries his best to hide it, but his breath gets trapped in his chest.

She smiles. “Hey.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Killian, speak. He clears his throat. “Uh, hi. Is the lad almost ready?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Henry yells from just out of Killian’s sight, most likely from around the corner in the living room.

“How are you feeling, Henry?” Killian asks just as he comes around the corner, the bowtie of his suit unbuttoned but otherwise looking incredibly dapper from his gelled-back hair to the tips of his polished dress shoes.

He shrugs. “A little nervous, I guess, but that’s normal, right?”

Killian smiles. “Aye. Completely normal. But I know you’re going to be exceptional.”

At this, Henry smiles, slipping past Killian and out the front door. “Thanks. Now let’s go!”

Emma fiddles with her nails when she’s nervous. This is something Killian learns very quickly, sitting beside her in one of the front rows of the auditorium, especially after having noticed it in the car on the way here. It doesn’t distract him, per se; instead, it gives him something to focus on instead of his own nerves, the shaking of his leg, chewing on his bottom lip.

“He’s going to do great,” Mary Margaret says from the other side of Emma, probably sensing her nervousness the same way.

“Oh, I’m sure he is,” Emma says, never taking her eyes off of the index finger she is focused on. “I just—” she lets out her breath through pursed lips, turning to look over her shoulder to where Neal is sitting at the end of the row behind them. Killian follows her gaze there, only to watch his attention turn from the cell phone in his hand to the watch on his wrist. “He wants to tell Henry tonight, that he’s accepted his father’s job offer. He leaves at the end of the month, but I told him he wasn’t allowed to ruin Henry’s concert by telling him before it. I can’t really even argue with it, he at least listened to what I told him.”

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret mutters, setting one of her hands on top of Emma’s, which halts her ability to pick at the skin around her index finger.

“I’ve always been surprised he stuck around this long in the first place,” David— helpfully— adds, arms crossed over his chest.

Killian can feel the daggers that Mary Margaret shoots at her husband when she turns to him.

Emma manages to let out a single, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “You’re right, though, David. I never expected him to stay around after we broke up, so the fact that he’s waited this long is a bit of a miracle.”

“That’s not going to make it any easier for Henry, though,” Mary Margaret comments.

Emma just shrugs, but when she goes to respond, the house lights quickly dim to black, the spotlight shining on Belle French, the school librarian and interim principal, standing at the podium. In moments, the entire room is hushed.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” she says, the gooseneck mic only catching the last few words, the auditorium humming with low feedback. “As you all know, we here in Storybrooke love to do all we can to ensure students have the opportunities to practice the arts they choose, and music is at the core of this. Every year, we are proud to hold this showcase for our elementary students, giving them the opportunity to show off their talents to the community, as well as our elementary band and orchestra groups, who have all been practicing regularly since at least the beginning of the year. To open our concert for tonight, we have the elementary orchestra group, led by our music teacher, Miss Tink Greene.”

The auditorium fills with applause as the spotlight fades away and the curtains open to reveal a stage full of musicians, smiling out at their families and friends in the audience. When Emma turns her attention to Killian out of the corner of her eye, the smile spread across his face conjures one of her own. He looks so proud, with many of the students on the stage students of his own.

Halfway through the second song, Mary Margaret leans towards Emma, setting her hand on her arm. “I always forget just how awful elementary orchestra concerts are,” she whispers.

Emma lets out a light laugh, nodding. “Like, I’m glad Henry found something he enjoys doing, don’t get me wrong, but listening to him play a botched song on a piano and listening to a bunch of them play half-tuned violins are two different worlds.”

“Swan,” Killian whispers, his eyes never leaving the stage, even as he reaches over to set his hand on her arm. “Shush.”

Even as she rolls her eyes, Emma can’t help but smile at him. But she also can’t help herself from leaning closer to Mary Margaret and whispering, “Killian wants us to stop talking.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his sigh, but he doesn’t move to respond to her.

He leaves his hand on her arm, though.

Neither of them seem to care. Neither of them make a move.

The second song comes to an end, and they quickly begin the third — the final song, Emma is relieved to hear.

They’re followed by a blonde girl in a bright red shirt and black slacks, who plays “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” on her cello; a small group of students introduced as the “elementary jazz band” who play a somewhat-recognizable jazzy rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”; and a trio that plays “I Saw Three Ships” in a round on their flute, clarinet, and violin.

Killian, of course, knows many of them, whispering things like, “Her mother tried to ask me out during one of our lessons,” and “They have the cutest little dog that really likes to lick my legs when they bring it with to pick him up,” when they are introduced.

(Emma wonders what Killian would say about her if he were whispering to someone else.)

And then next up is Henry. When the curtain opens, she doesn’t realize that she has changed her grip to holding Killian’s hand in her own — or, at least, one of them moved to hold the hand of the other — until she feels the way he straightens his shoulders, sucks in a breath between his teeth. But when she turns to him, taking her eyes away from her son, getting ready to perform, for just a moment, he meets her eyes.

Smiles.

Winks.

(The bastard.)

And turns back to the stage.

She’s glad they’re in a darkened auditorium, because she feels the way her face warms at the realization, hopes that Mary Margaret can’t hear the pounding in her chest that is only silenced when Henry starts to play, Violet playing along with him.

It’s much better than the sound of the full orchestra, Emma notices almost immediately, or any of the other groups that have played. It at least doesn’t sound like a bunch of screaming, dying animals.

Just sitting there watching him, she is overwhelmed by a sense of pride, something that washes over her like a wave as his fingers move perfectly across the piano keys. (Sure, it might not be completely perfect, maybe a handful of notes a little off between the two of them, but Emma doesn’t care.)

Killian turns to her, just slightly, if only because he knows just how bright the smile spread across her face has to be.

(He’s right.)

It warms him. It makes his heart pound in his chest, just how happy her happiness makes him. Of course, that’s not the point of taking on dedicated students like Henry, but if one of the perks of being able to share the joy of music with the lad is spending time with (falling absolutely head over heels for) his mother, he will certainly be the last to complain.

But, in looking over at her, he also happens to glance over her shoulder, where Neal is still sitting at the end of the aisle behind them.

Not even looking at the stage, his cell phone still in his hand.

Over the shoulders of Emma and Mary Margaret, David makes eye contact with him, raising one of his eyebrows in question, which Killian only responds to by nodding in Neal’s direction. David turns around, and Killian can tell by the rise and fall of his shoulders that he sighs. When he turns towards Killian again, he rolls his eyes.

The last group to play is the elementary band, who proves to be much easier on the ears than the orchestra. It’s not very large, just a dozen or so students spread across the three rows of chairs, with three percussionists standing in front of various instruments at the back of the stage.

And then, after the first song, out come the recorders.

It appears Emma spoke (thought?) too soon, trying her best not to wince through their rendition of “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas,” thankfully aided by some of the other band members to make it somewhat less terrible — but by a very small margin.

(Killian, however, does not have the same self-control, and every scrunch of his face is paired with the tightening of his hand, which still happens to be wrapped around Emma’s — though neither of them are complaining.)

The first words out of Neal’s mouth, while everyone else praises his performance, are, “You ready to get out of here, kid?”

The question is met with a glare from the rest of the group, all except Henry who just looks confused.

“Aren’t we taking some of my friends? We have to wait for them.”

Neal sighs, looking at his watch. “Well, can you rally them together? I have to be up early tomorrow so I don’t want to be out too late.”

“If you want us to, David and I would be willing to take Henry instead,” Mary Margaret says, her grip on David’s hand tightening to stop him from reacting.

Henry doesn’t answer, just turns his attention up at Neal, as if waiting to see how he responds.

He grinds his teeth together. “No, of course I’ll take him, I just — it’s been a long week and I’m a little exhausted.”

“I’m gonna go find Avery and Violet,” Henry says, obviously a little let down by Neal’s response, before walking away from the group — and, now that he’s gone, Emma allows herself to finally respond to him.

“I can’t believe you!”

Neal just rolls his eyes. Killian feels his jaw tighten, and David crosses his arms across his chest.

“God, Emma, just stop overreacting. You all knew this was going to happen someday, even Henry.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to tell him today. He just had his first performance, his first solo, and all he wants from you is for you to be proud of him, not to hear that you’re moving away.”

“Listen, you told me I had to wait until after the concert. The concert is over.”

“You know damn well this isn’t what I meant!” Emma moves to lunge towards him, but Killian catches her arm, holding her back.

“Not here, love,” he whispers. For a moment, Emma’s eyes are wide with anger, but when they meet his, they soften, and she nods.

Neal scoffs. “You want to call me out for being inappropriate, yet here you are, dating Henry’s music teacher.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes.

We’re not dating. Killian feels the words on the tip of his tongue, but he bites them back — this is neither the time nor the place, and besides—

“That’s none of your damn business, first of all,” Emma bites. "I will kiss and date and sleep with whoever the hell I want to, you have no say in it anymore."

"You slept with him?!"

"Again, it's none of your business whether I did or not, Neal. That's the point. God, I don’t have the patience to deal with you right now. Just make sure Henry gets to soccer practice on time tomorrow, please.”

“Now you’re going to tell me how to be his dad? Like I haven’t been doing it for ten years?”

Killian has a feeling that if his hand weren’t still wrapped around Emma’s wrist, she would have lunged again.

“Come on, Emma, let’s go,” David says, stepping between them. “He’s not worth it,” he whispers.

Still, Emma doesn’t move.

Killian tugs on her hand. “Come on, love.”

She takes a breath, apparent by the rise and fall of her shoulders, before she nods, finally turning back to face him.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They find Henry in the music room behind the auditorium, gathering his belongings. “Hey, kid,” Emma calls, walking towards him. “We’re gonna head out, okay?”

He whips around, stopping in the middle of his conversation with Avery. “Okay!” He rushes across the music room to wrap his arms around Emma’s middle. “Thanks again for coming!”

“Of course we came, lad,” Killian says, mussing his hair with a smile.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mary Margaret chirps from behind them.

“But you have fun with your dad, alright?” Emma says. “Want me to take your dress shoes home?”

“I don’t want to stay at dad’s tonight, I want to come home with you.”

“Henry, come on, we talked about this already. Your dad asked for you to stay there tonight even though it’s not his night, and you have practice in the morning anyway. Please?”

Suddenly, his eyes light up. “Why? Are you two going on a date?”

David scoffs. Mary Margaret laughs, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. Killian is useless against the drop of his jaw. But it’s Emma’s answer that Henry laughs at: “What? No, come on, we’re—we’re—” she stutters.

Henry puts his hands on his hips, his eyebrows high on his forehead. Killian recognizes the look immediately; he’s gotten the exact look from Emma before, on quite a few occasions.

“I can assure you, lad, I’m just taking your mother home.”

This time, it’s David who laughs, just a single bark — but it’s all Killian needs to really hear what he has just said, and he quickly feels as heat rises to the tips of his ears.

But Henry doesn’t hear it that way, thankfully, and instead flashes a large smile at them. “Then you can just take me home, too.”

“Henry, please,” Emma says, crossing her arms over her chest. Henry’s smile disappears, and he nods even as his gaze falls to the ground.

“Okay, mom.”

He goes to turn away from them, but Emma reaches out to put her arm on his shoulder. “Hey,” she whispers, waiting for him to look back up at her before she smiles. ‘C’mere,” she whispers, leaning down as she holds her arms out to him.

Henry complies, even managing to crack a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow after practice, alright?”

“You’ll pick me up?”

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, mom.”

After quickly hugging Mary Margaret and high-fiving David and Killian, the four of them make their way out of the building to their cars.

“So, are you guys going on a date?” The question practically explodes out of Mary Margaret, and David is useless against the smile that spreads across his face.

“No,” Emma says, but Killian takes a chance and shrugs.

“What do you say, Swan? Want to get something to eat?”

No one looks more surprised by this turn of events than Emma herself. Killian’s glad they’re out from under the harsh phosphorescence of the school lights so the redness of his face is (hopefully) less obvious.

David’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. “Do I have to give you guys the talk?”

Killian doesn’t know how to respond, truthfully; instead, Emma hits his arm with the back of her hand. “Oh my god, David.”

Mary Margaret giggles — honest-to-God giggles.

“We’re leaving now,” Emma says, and Killian certainly doesn’t argue.

“So, do you want to eat, or not?” Killian asks, finally breaking the silence in the car as they pull out of the parking lot.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Emma mumbles, failing to hide the way she fiddles with her nails. “Wherever you want to go.”

He smiles. “I know just the place.”

Much to Emma’s surprise, he takes them home. To his house, more specifically, though for a moment she fears that he will drop her off at her front door and disappear forever. Instead, he holds open his front door for her, as nervous as she is.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asks, helping her shrug out of her coat, which he then drapes over the back of a dining room chair. “Water? Wine? I probably have some whiskey somewhere around here, if you’re looking for something harder.”

Emma smiles, finding his obvious nerves charming. “Wine would be great.”

He hums, pulling a bottle of white out of the fridge. Of course, with the way his nerves have been acting up, he’s surprised he hasn’t already started rambling, so he’s not surprised when he opens his mouth and is unable to stop words from falling from his lips. “Liam always told me that the best way to impress a lady is to cook for her, but I was probably not supposed to divulge that information on a first date.” He hands her the glass of wine, then pours one for himself. “I was half-hoping this is where we ended up, you know. That’s why I prepared a little bit, why I thawed this piece of salmon and made sure I had what I needed for my mother’s favorite pasta recipe.” Quickly, he turns to face her, unable to stop his hand from scratching the spot behind his ear. “I hope that’s okay, now that I’m thinking about it, I never even asked—”

Emma holds her hand out, resting it against his hand on the counter. “Killian,” she says softly, and between that and her smile, he snaps his mouth shut. “Whatever you have planned, I’m sure it will be perfect.”

He wants to dive across the kitchen counter and kiss her right there, the salmon be damned. But that’s not what he does, holding himself back. Instead, he just smiles at her.

“You have too much faith in me, love,” he says, forcing himself to move to begin readying dinner.

“Maybe I’ve just gotten to know you enough to be sure that I can trust you.”

God, I love this woman, he thinks to himself, only allowing himself to pause for a moment as the realization hits him, knowing that more will draw her attention for sure. And if he called her out, asked what he was thinking about, he’s not sure he would be able to stop himself from telling her.

Because it’s true, he realizes — there’s no use hiding from it anymore. It’s true that he has fallen absolutely in love with Emma Swan, and there’s no going back now.

But the silence of the kitchen — of the whole house — gets to him before the oven is even preheated, and he has to find something to talk about before he absolutely loses his mind.

“Your lad did a great job tonight, you know,” he says, daring to glance at her over his shoulder, if only to catch the smile that he knows is on her face.

“Well, he had an incredible teacher,” she says.

“That may be true, love, but he had real talent when he started.”

“Which really is a surprise.” Emma tells him, not for the first time. “I know neither Neal or I have any musical ability, or Neal’s dad. Mary Margaret used to play the flute, but she’s not actually family, and probably hasn’t picked one up since college.”

“I know you never knew them, but maybe it’s from one of your parents.” This time, when he glances over his shoulder, she has her thumbnail between her front teeth, so he adds, “Or maybe it’s just him. It’s not unheard of.”

She attempts to smile, but it doesn’t stick. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he turns back to the counter, adding the last few sprigs of rosemary to the pan with the salmon before sticking it in the oven.

“That’ll take a little while longer than the pasta, so I’m going to wait a bit before I start that,” he starts, but when he turns back to her, she’s gone.

Shit.

“Okay,” she calls from the living room, which slows the terrified pounding of his heart almost immediately. Even after months of friendship with Emma Swan, he still somehow thought she would have walked out on him.

“So we, uh, have a little bit of time,” he says, finding his own glass of wine before following her voice into the living room. Much to his surprise, she’s sitting on the piano bench, her long, thin fingers moving gently across the keys, but not making a sound.

“You know,” she says, turning towards him as he fills the space between them. “I do know how to play one thing on the piano.” With a shy smile, she moves over on the bench to give him room to sit with her, patting it gently when he doesn’t move to join her.

But he’s useless against her, and can fight it no longer, so he does, trying to focus on something other than the warmth of her leg pressed against his. “Oh yeah? What is that?”

He's afraid to hear the answer, knows what she's about to play down deep in his soul, but he still cringes when he hears the first few notes: “Heart and Soul.”

"Anything but that, love. Literally anything."

“I don’t know about you, Killian Jones,” Emma says, letting him slip her jacket back over her arms before he leads her to the door. “But I don’t think I’ve ever had a better first date.” Even in the low light of the entryway, Killian knows that Emma can see the blush rising to his cheeks. “And I know I said it before, but that pasta was incredible. Really, one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well, thank you, Swan,” he says, ducking his head to avoid her bright eyes. “I’m glad you think so. Both about the pasta and the date.”

“I may even let you walk me home.”

He’s at a loss for words — and even questions his own ability to speak when she follows up by running her tongue across her bottom lip.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“You’re a true gentleman, Killian Jones.”

“Always.” He even feels brave enough to wink at her, holding open the front door to let her through.

Their walk across the street is silent, save the light chuckle Killian allows when Emma threads her arm through his.

“This is my stop,” she says, turning to face him on her front porch. But instead of moving to open the door, she reaches out to take one of his hands in hers. Then the other.

“Yeah, I should, uh, let you get home,” he says, realizing that it is, in fact, the very last thing he wants to do.

She looks up at him, her green eyes bright in the front lights. “Yeah,” she whispers, barely audible. Swipes her tongue across her bottom lip again. And then leans forward, letting go of one of his hands only to wrap hers around his neck, and presses her lips against his. It’s soft, it’s gentle, it’s —

Perfect. Everything he imagined kissing Emma Swan would be.

And that’s why he loses himself in it, in her, for just a moment, living for the swipe of her tongue against his, before backing away. She takes a deep breath before opening her eyes, a soft smile spread across her lips.

“I don’t usually do this on a first date, love,” he whispers, leaning closer to her so he can rest his forehead against hers.

“Me neither,” she says back, her smile growing. “So take me out again tomorrow night and we can do it again.”

“Deal.”

She kisses him again, a single peck on the lips, and turns away.

tags: @let-it-raines @shireness-says @wellhellotragic @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @teamhook @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @superchocovian @carpedzem @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @lfh1226-linda @singersdd @tiganasummertree @alexannam16 @therealstartraveller776 @spartanguard @jennjenn615 @pepperspotts

#my writing #megan writes things #megan finishes things #wordsbymeganmichael #cs fics #cs ff #captain swan #I don't even know how to tag things anymore

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baldwin-montclair · 4 years

Text

Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 13)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: After the S1 Finale, TV Show canon MOSTLY with some S2, Shadow of Night and Book of Life.

Summary: Whilst Baldwin deals with business away from Sept-Tours, Alisha copes with his absence and the impending wedding.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary @hofficoffi @stormyheart326 @simplytimeless @wonderlander594

The Story So Far

Alisha tossed and turned for two hours after Baldwin’s departure. She would never have imagined that sharing a bed with someone for just two nights would so spoil her for when she was then left to sleep alone.

Getting comfortable seemed like an impossibility, she was either too warm with the covers over her or too cold without them, she missed the heat regulating coolness of her vampire’s skin and the feeling of safety in his arms. The loss of this made her think of the first time she had it, their first night as husband and wife.

When he was so initially so gentle he seemed almost fearful that he’d break her if his movements within her were too insistent.

Tormented by the memories of their various intimacies, she gave up on the fruitless quest for sleep and instead got up, pulling on her underwear and Baldwin’s discarded shirt before wandering over to a small table where Alain had placed the chest containing her ‘dowry’.

Alisha picked it up, finding it surprisingly heavy, and brought it to Baldwin’s desk where she sat and opened it once more.

She gradually emptied the contents onto the desk, the folded papers that spoke of wealth contained in both stocks and properties, and, the glittering jewels.

With everything on the table in front of her, she noticed an old parchment style letter complete with seal.

Madame De Clermont.

The name on the front was not written with either a ballpoint or a fountain pen. It was clearly a quill, making the letter old, how old she wasn’t was sure.

In truth, she’d never opened a letter like this before and tried cracking the seal with the Ouroboros depicted. That then allowed her to unfold the parchment and frown at the almost unintelligible writing.

It took a moment to focus on the characters before she was able to decipher it.

Daughter,

The fact that you are reading this should already inform you that I am no longer of this world and greatly regret not having had the chance to meet you.

I write this letter in the hope that it will one day be opened although I have long feared it will not be. If I am wrong in this, please know that there would be no-one more delighted to be mistaken than I.

My wife will guide you in what it means to be Madame de Clermont, she is my right hand, as my son will need you to be for him. Heed her advice in all things as she knows well how to manage difficult men. Love and obey my son and you will find no greater, nor more loyal a protector.

Let me also take this moment also to stress that it does not matter to me whether or not you are of our kind, nor is it a prerequisite that you be changed. Even an old man can learn when he is wrong, and, consequently, hope that his past folly has not deprived a most beloved son of his happiness.

If Lucius loves you and you love him, you both have my blessing.

Your Grateful Father,

Philippe de Clermont

Alisha sat back in the chair, pulling Baldwin’s shirt tighter around her in a vain attempt to feel close to him, much in the same way she’d given him the ribbon.

Oddly, she no longer noticed an aroma of church incense on him as she had when they first met, clearly he’d just attended mass with a liberal use of the cloying smoke.

Now, his burning campfire scent mixed with the notes of rich leather served to perfectly sum him up, both attempts to control and utilise nature, conquer it, prove oneself above it.

Civilised.

As soon as there was light, Alisha was ready for her walk, just around the grounds of the fortress but enough for the cold November air to keep her alert.

The place was peaceful and she didn’t encounter another person, for around ten steps, when Gallowglass jogged out the door behind her.

“Mind if I join you, fancy a walk!” He asked the question that was in no way a question.

“I don’t mind, and I’m sorry.” She glanced across at him.

“Sorry?”

“Baldwin has put you on me-sitting duty whilst he’s away,” she smiled and shook her head when he opened his mouth to protest, “don’t worry, I’m not about to make your job harder. In fact, tell me what his command is and I promise I will help you stick to it.”

“I’m grateful for your offer Auntie, but a command from Baldwin is no a thing that bears repeating.”

“Alright,” she thought to herself, “then give me the jist.”

“The jist,” he stroked his scruffy chin in thought, “is that whilst you are outside, I am not to let you out of my sight.”

“Wow,” she whistled, “that’s more restrictive than I thought it would be.”

“Really?”

“Yes, who’s going to step foot on De Clermont land?”

“There are other ways to snatch someone than on foot.”

“There’s really not.”

“Please tell me you know that some witches can fly?”

She laughed at this.

“What, like on a broom? I think you’re making fun of me.”

“No broom needed, I’ve seen it, I swear!”

“Okay,” she regarded his expression, and believed him, “good thing my only threat comes from a vampire and not a witch.”

“When the congregation finds out about you and Baldwin, the only creatures who wont resent you will be your own kind, and us here, obviously.”

“I appreciate that, and you’re being so welcoming, even if having to follow me around is kinda super unfair to you.”

He had to chuckle at that but even through his cheerful exterior, there was a hint of sadness.

“Trust me, it’s not the least fair task I’ve been given,” he shook his head and the cloud of heaviness dissipated, “and what else am I going to be doing?”

“Planning more mischief with Marcus?” She suggested.

“Unfortunately not, Granny’s sending him to London to collect some miniatures from an auction house.”

“Well, since you’re stuck with me, I have a question for you.”

“Hit me.”

“Do you remember a party here in the past? Something to do with Baldwin’s father and his support for a French King.”

“Henry of Navarre?”

“Yes, were you here?”

“How do you know about that?” He asked with a hint of uncertainty.

“The tapestry, Marthe didn’t know much about it because she and Ysabeau weren’t here. So, were you?”

“I was.” He admitted.

“Then you’ll know, why was the tapestry moved, what happened at the party?”

“It wasn’t a party, Cicogna, the Venetian Doge brought his entire court, they were supposed to be here for a week but one of his musicians was killed. It was blamed on a spy in Sixtus’ retinue. Grandad gave his support for Navarre anyway. Nothing really happened.”

“You count a murder as nothing happening?”

“Just one murder? Aye!”

“Then why did he have the tapestry moved?”

“No idea, Why do you want to know?”

“Honestly?” She asked him.

“Yes.”

“It’s a mystery, I have a fraction of a story and it drives me a little crazy.” She confided.

“So you married a notorious secret keeper?” He asked.

“Fair point,” she smiled.

“Auntie, the past is not something you need to worry about, you’re his mate and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you Gallowglass.”

Alisha couldn’t help but recognise the strangeness in his statement.

If the present mattered because she was indeed Baldwin’s mate, she wondered what happened in the past that, according to Gallowglass, she needn’t worry about. It did make her think on Philippe’s words, to what ‘past folly’ was he referring.

Perhaps she really wasn’t getting to quench her idle curiosity and decided it not worth causing upset just to learn some gossip.

“So, wedding?” He changed the subject.

“We’ve agreed to give the go ahead.”

“I know, Baldwin spoke to Granny earlier, you did well to escape without her catching you.”

“He called, earlier?”

“Yes, and no, you cannot speak to him or see him before the church.”

“What,” it was her turn to stop, “I can’t see my husband for how long?”

“Jesus, the wedding’s in two days, I’d happily take not speaking to your husband for two millennia if it was on offer.” He chuckled.

“Two days?” She asked, feeling the blood drain from her cheeks.

“Granny works fast, I think she made most of the arrangements before she even got off the phone. We do have a seamstress on staff mind you, so that won’t be a problem, just do as Victoire says, she’s the one with the sewing needle.”

He stopped, his expression turning to one of concern.

“Aw hell, here,” Gallowglass directed her over to a low wall, “sit there, head between your knees before you faint on me.”

She followed his direction without argument, as he hovered nearby, not sure what to do. The vampire custom was clear on not touching the mate of a higher rank vampire but his compassion was at war with this rule.

“Maybe the whole wedding thing has made more of an impact on me than I thought,” she agreed, “are you all religious?”

“Both myself and your husband were pagan, Baldwin obviously much earlier, but Philippe would not have that, we would be Christian, serving one master.”

“God or Philippe?”

“They were both one in the same, I think he could relate, one heavenly father overseeing his children, and he did inform most of the Church doctrine.”

“You’re telling me that Baldwin’s father wrote the Bible?”

“No, I’m telling you that Grandad had a very firm hand in deciding which accounts made it into the final canon.”

“That is...terrifying.” She admitted.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t ever concern you just how much power and influence your family have had over the past two thousand years?”

“Closer to three thousand, and it’s your family now too Auntie.”

She nodded gravely, the responsibility Ysabeau had mentioned suddenly becoming painfully clear.

“Come on, you need to eat something.”

Alisha had no idea how much of an event breakfast was in Sept-Tours, tea, coffee, juice, bacon, eggs, pastries and so much fruit.

She couldn’t do much more than pick at croissant as the table bustled with conversation between every inhabitant of the fortress.

“Isn’t there anything I can do to help?” Alisha asked Ysabeau, who was sitting with Margaret on her knee, the child staring adoringly up at the vampire.

“It is already in hand.”

Alisha had the sneaking suspicion that Ysabeau already had most of the arrangements made before they arrived at Sept Tours, and knew that her step-son would relent.

“After breakfast we will have Victoire make some preliminary measurements for your gown.” Ysabeau’s eyes drifted to the different coloured ribbon around Alisha’s wrist, a ghost of a smile on her expression.

“Have you invited my aunts,” Marcus asked her, “and my cousin?”

“Baldwin will notify Miyako himself but I have invited Verin, Stasia and Freyja.”

“Aunt Fanny’s already in France, she’ll be here before the wedding, I guarantee it.” Marcus smiled, looking forward to seeing Freya.

“What about your father, Marcus? Matthew and his wife...Diana? Are they not coming?” Alisha asked him, causing a weight of silence to fall over the table.

“They won’t be able to make it, unfortunately.” Ysabeau answered.

She realised that Baldwin hadn’t actually told her what had happened with them.

Judging by Ysabeau’s tone - and the way everyone was suddenly studying their breakfast - now was not the time to find out.

“Where is the ceremony happening?” She asked instead.

“Saint Lucien,” Ysabeau seemed relieved by the change in topic, “it will be a Catholic ceremony, if there are no objections?”

“N-no, of course not. What can I do to help?”

“You can learn the Latin phrases you are expected to say and under no circumstances are you to speak with or see Baldwin until the wedding.”

Her cell had been broken by Christina several days prior and without a replacement, it would be easy for Ysabeau to enforce this rule.

“I understand,” she accepted, “and I want to thank you, for everything you’re doing for us, I really appreciate it. I’m sure Baldwin does too.”

Ysabeau almost corrected her, she was keeping a promise, nothing more.

“You are welcome,” she said instead, surprised that her rules had not prompted an appeal against them.

Ysabeau’s gaze was that of appraisal, like she was sizing Alisha up for some unknown purpose, task, role.

The rest of breakfast passed in general conversation until Victoire arrived to collect Alisha for her fitting.

Ysabeau watched until she was gone.

“I do hope Freyja is on her way,” she told Marcus, “if Verin and Stasia arrive first, they will eat that poor girl alive.”

“To get an accurate measurement, you must take those off.” The vampire told Alisha.

“O-okay.” She answered, hesitantly removing the warm, bulky sweater, jeans and vest until she was standing in just her underwear.

“Our priest is...conservative, which means that there will be no bare shoulders or arms.” Victoire decreed as she measured around Alisha’s waist.

That’s when she remembered, the very obvious hickie on the inside of her thigh that she’d noticed in the shower that morning.

She could only hope that Victoire either did not see it or would be too polite to mention it.

It had been acquired during Baldwin’s deliciously cruel teasing the night before, clearly it was some primal impulse to put a physical mark of his claim upon her.

“I don’t mind,” Alisha rushed to protest, “I trust you, with the design.”

In truth, she just wanted the two days to be over and was willing to do whatever it took to make them pass as smoothly as possible.

She started to believe Baldwin was mistaken, about the mate bond, it didn’t just lie with him. When he left, she felt a distinct tug at her heart that was, throughout the day, starting to feel like a vast chasm was opening up, hollowing her out.

“You will be beautiful on the day Madame, I guarantee it. You shall even render Sieur Baldwin speechless!”

Just as she was about to respond, the door to the room opened and a tall, blonde and stunning vampire entered.

“Um, hi!” Alisha greeted, still standing, in her underwear.

“Freyja,” the woman answered simply, as though that was explanation enough, “do you know who I am?”

“Baldwin’s sister?”

“One of them,” she answered with a smile, giving Alisha a frank up and down appraisal, “I’m here to help prepare you for the ceremony.”

“Ysabeau said I have some phrases to learn, in Latin?”

“You...do not speak Latin?”

“No.”

“French?”

“Nope!”

“I suppose it would be pointless to ask how familiar you are with Ancient Greek?”

“Not pointless but the answer would still be nuh-uh.”

“I assume Baldwin chose me as your chaperone due to your...unfamiliarity with our ways.”

“But Gallowglass-“

“Is your guard, do not leave this building without him.”

“Yeah, he already warned me of the hazard that is flying witches.”

“Good, dear Matthew’s mate Diana was taken from here by a witch, one who possessed the power of flight.”

“What happened to her?”

“Tortured, they were lucky to get her back alive.”

“They?”

“Matthew and Baldwin mounted a rescue. He didn’t tell you?”

“No.“

“I’m sure he will, he simply does not want to worry you with inconsequential threats. Baldwin has no patience for fragility, of body or of spirit but you seem to be the exception.”

“I’m not fragile.”

“Of course you are, and I am not saying that as an insult. You’re a warmblood, a musician too I hear. Not a warrior but we have enough of them in this family already. We will find a role for you, one that will suit your sensibilities.”

“A role? I’m getting married, not applying for a job.”

“Everyone in the family has a role, a purpose that furthers the de Clermont cause.”

“I though my role would be to support my husband.”

“Would that be enough for you? Would you not like to carve out your own function?”

Freyja’s words resonated, she never really thought about her place in the family beyond that of an extension, attached but not entirely a part of it.

“What role could I possibly fulfil that has not already been taken?”

Freyja’s smile was triumphant.

“We can figure that part out together!”

“Is that why he asked you to help me?”

“I have some more modern ideas when it comes to preparing the uninitiated for their new life. Verin and Stasia would not be as patient, I’m afraid. He must really care for you, to admit that a kinder approach is sometimes appropriate. My brother does not like to admit when he is wrong.”

“And Did he?”

Freyja snorted.

“Of course he didn’t, his request for my assistance was admission enough.”

“I have what I need for now Madame, we will have a fitting tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Victoire.” Alisha gave the woman a grateful smile.

“Wait,” Freyja told Victoire whilst keeping her eyes on Alisha, “I assume you would like to keep the dress intact after the wedding?”

“I would, yes.” Alisha agreed.

“Victoire,” Freyja turned back to the seamstress, “please keep that in mind when you are devising the fastenings. A newly mated pair kept apart for two days and nights, too many buttons and the dress will not survive.”

Alisha stifled a smile at the vampire’s candour as she pulled her clothes back on before Victoire left them.

“We need a man to give you away at the ceremony.”

“I’ve probably spent the most amount of time with Gallowglass so far-“

“It cannot be Eric, or Marcus, Baldwin’s their uncle. Ideally it should be a daemon.”

“The only daemon male I know is Nathaniel.”

“Perfect, ask him. It should also help with securing the daemon’s vote in the congregation, their leader is his mother after all!”

Alisha read over Philippe’s letter for the tenth time, taking time she should have been using to get ready for dinner. Meal times seemed to be an event in general in Sept Tours.

There was something regretful in the words of the deceased patriarch, guilt too, perhaps. Still, sitting at the desk was not going to urge her up to get ready and she reluctantly stood.

At the door to the shower room she heard a noise, the unmistakable sound of a phone vibrating, the cell phone Nathaniel had given her - alongside his agreement to give her away - ringing on the bedside table.

“Is everything okay?” She said as she answered the call, already knowing, in her bones, who it was.

“And hello to you as well Sweetheart.” Baldwin’s tone was teasing.

“Two days Baldwin! Our wedding is in two days.”

He was silent for a moment then sighed.

“I know,” he admitted, “Ysabeau works faster than even I give her credit for.”

“Surely you’ll be back by then, I’d kind of like you to be there!” ”I will be, I promise.”

“I hope so, Victoire has already measured me for my dress.”

“Oh?”

“Yep, and luckily your mark went unnoticed by her and Freyja.”

“Mark?”

“Let’s call it a token of affection,” she rolled her eyes, “that you so kindly bestowed on me last night with your merciless teasing, on your desk.”

“Ah,” he answered in understanding, “I am sorry, I forget how easily warmblood skin bruises.”

“So it wasn’t deliberate, a plan to mark your territory?”

“When I’m between your thighs, I don’t have the presence of mind to formulate a plan.”

“It’s really mean to talk like that when you’re so far away and I’m all alone in a big bed tonight. I might have to please myself.”

“Do something for me.”

“Record and send it to you?”

“N-“ he stopped.

“Well?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Stop,” she giggled, “what were you going to say?”

“I was going to ask you to wait. There’s no way Ysabeau will let me near you until the wedding anyway.”

“Are you asking me to ‘save myself’ for you because that ship has hoisted anchor by this point.”

“Two days, wait for me?”

“I can do that,” she agreed with a smile.

He went silent for a moment.

“Baldwin?”

“I’m sorry, for almost depriving you of this wedding. Everything happened so quickly I just didn’t think having this was something I-“

“Needed?”

“Deserved.”

“You’re a good man Baldwin, you deserve to be happy.”

“Good men don’t live as long as I have.”

She wasn’t sure what it was about conversation over the telephone that lent itself to such openness from him. Still, the sound of a door being knocked on the other side of the line stopped her from answering.

“I have a meeting before the Congregation hearing so I must leave you now Sweetheart.”

“Then go be big boss man,” she encouraged, “try not to kill anyone, and remember that I love you.”

She hung up just as Freyja breezed into the room.

“I would turn that off and hide it if I were you. Ysabeau is very strict with rules!” The woman headed straight for the wardrobe.

“I have to go wash up.” Alisha got up and made her way to the door, hearing his voice made the separation much more difficult and she had to pull herself together, preferably not in front of her sister-in-law.

“Take your time,” Freyja stated with sympathy, “no red eyes at dinner, and I’ll leave this dress out for you to wear. My sisters will be in attendance and I will help you make a good impression.”

___

PART 14

#baldwin montclair #baldwin de clermont #adow fic #baldwin’s nightingale #adow baldwin fic #baldwinmontclair

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