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#someone please kidnap me before the 19th - thank you
eroslove88 · 3 years
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The Devil Himself
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۶Pairing: Yandere!Overhaul x Reader
۶Warning: Yandere themes, Stalking, Blackmailing, Threatening, Mention of Child Abuse, Crying, Kidnapping, and Drug Usage
۶Note: .... It's Overhaul!
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"Good Evening! Welcome to Gardenia's Flowery, find anything you like?" you asked then turned around to face a little girl with a horn, blue hair, red eyes, and a rag dress. "Sweetie are you ok?" you asked noticing bandages on her limbs.
Quickly you went around the register and knelt down to her level. She immediately clung on to your long sleeve white dress shirt, tears threatening to come out of her glossy eyes, "Please help me" she begged.
You picked her up and took her the to break/employee room then sat her down on the sofa, "What's your name?" you asked the young shaking girl.
She bowed her head and clenched her ragity dress, "E-Eri" she responded with glossy eyes. She didn't even look at you, was she that scared?
"Hey honey" you chuckled, "I'm not gonna hurt you" you said. You went pat her head but she flinched, you rubbed her head instead, "What's wrong? Who hurt you?"
"Please, he'll find me" she begged finally looking at you. Still clenching her dress finally a tear fell from her filled eyes.
"Nobody is going to hurt you" placing your hand on her head, "I won't let him" you said getting up and taking your hand back. "I'm going to lock up for the day" you said grabbing a tray of snacks. "Have one, don't leave from here. I'll be right back" you said leaving the break room.
Luckily today was Thursday, which meant that you locked up for the day. It also meant staying behind a few hours more than the others. After picking up some flowers that were outside you locked up you then went to flip the sign that said open to closed. You sighed checking the door then went back to the break room.
"Eri" you said walking into the room, "I'm back" you said closing the door behind you, "I need you to talk to me" you said pulling up a chair in front of her, "If I'm going to help I need to know what's wrong" you said. You chuckled, "But I'll let you finish that before all that, ok?" she was currently eating a Carmel Apple. You grabbed a napkin and Apple Juice for her.
After she was done she drank the juice and you wiped her mouth to make sure there was so mess on her. "He-" she started before looking down, "He hurts me" she said.
"Who does?" you ask. "Is it your dad?" you say looking at her. She was still shaking but not as much as before.
"No" she said looking at you. "O-Overhaul" she responded finally saying his name instead of he. Overhaul? That name rung a bell.
"As in the head of the Hassakai?" you asked the short frail girl. She nodded immediately, "I promise he won't find you" you said holding her hand, "I'll take you to the station right no-" before you could finish you heard a crash in the front of your store.
"He found me" she whispered. Now she was crying a lot. "Please miss leave you need to go before he finds you" she said.
"No way" you said. "Not without you, come on we can leave from the basement where my car is parked." she nodded and you grabbed her hand walking to the next room which was where the elevator was.
You both got in and you clicked the basement button. The elevator felt slow and you were getting inpatient. Finally it dung but to your horror, he was standing there. The Devil Himself, Overhaul. Eri was scared and she started shaking again.
"Excuse me miss" he said tilting his head with a fake smile, well not that you could see it because of his mask but you could see his eyes make the smile shape, "Sorry about her she's a clumsy one"
Eri clung to your leg immediately, causing you to look down then back at him, "What are you doing to her?" you asked him. His smile went away.
"My daughter Eri is just clumsy and plays rough" he said then started to remove his glove, "Now come here Eri" he said looking at her. Immediately she ran to him and held his hand. "Nice seeing you miss, hope to see you again" he said walking out of there.
"What the fuck" you whispered out. Did he threateb her? See you again? Hell no! You thought. "God I'm an idiot" you groaned into your hands. You walked to your car and slammed your head on the wheel, "I could've stopped him. Why didn't I say or do anything?" you asked yourself. You sighed then turned on your car letting regret and felt guilty the whole way home.
"Eri?" Overhaul turned to the small red eyed girl, "What did you tell her?" he asked gripping her hand tighter. She started crying bowing he head in feeling the guilt in her, "So you told her about your tests?" he asked her. She nodded shamely. "Well then, I've taken a liking in that that quirkless lady. I thank you Eri" he said with a smile. She knew that whatever would happen to you would be her fault.
For the next 2 weeks you felt guilty and like if you were being watched. But you chalked it off as being paranoid. "He didn't mean it" you whispered to yourself rearranging some bouquets.
The next week on your 19th birthday you got a letter from anonymous, in the letter it contained photos of you sleeping, walking around your house, getting dressed, and the most horrifying of all taking shower. There was a paper inside and it read, "If you want your family to live then don't disobey our following orders, 1. Go to the nearest park alone 2. Leave your phone 3. Don't tell anyone 4. Burn this letter and leave no trace of our encounter or this ever happening." worst of all at the bottom it had your parents and friend's addresses, "Just in case :)" they wrote next to it. Then there was a signature, Overhaul, It said. You sobbed burn the letter and photos.
You always loved the walk to the park. Now you felt as if you were getting closer go death by this walk. You got there but there were no specific directions on where to go. After 10 minutes and nothing you decided that maybe they forgot.
Until you heard the tapping of his shoes, "Sorry to keep you waiting, I had to deal with someone" he said walking closer to you. Immediately you took a deep breath and turned around to face him... He grabbed your chin and made you look into his eyes, "Your so pure" he whispered, you barely heard it though due to the mask, "Your so beautiful" she said quiter than before. He let go, "Follow me" he said walking to the direction he came from. You did that and followed him. Maybe it was because of different scenarios playing in your head or you were to scared but you didn't say anything.
"What do you want from me?" you asked him. You voice was barely passing a whisper. But it was still weak. You were obviously scared.
He stopped walking then turned around, "You'll see" he said then turned around and continued walking. He walked into an alley way and you hesitantly followed. He immediately pinned you to the wall with one hand and held your throat with the other. You began to feel tears burn the corners of your eyes. "Your a bit naive but you knew this was gonna happen" here said. But it was true this was one scenario, death. "But I don't think it's what your thinking" he said he removed the hand from your throat and grabbed something from his pocket, "I'll see you in the morning" he then injected something into your neck but before you could scream he covered your mouth with his free hand. "Shhh" he whispered. You felt your body go weak and eyes grow heavier before.. You fell asleep.
You woke up in an all white bed, in a different outfit, different bed, different room, and definitely not your home. You tried to get up but there was a chain connecting you to the bed. "Good morning Angel" Overhaul said walking into the room, "Hope you slept well" now the smile he wore was real. He finally got his darling.
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miminorenai · 4 years
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Chapter 1
— The fruit of Underworld, pomegranate. *In mythology, the goddess who ate it unknowingly is destined to live in the land of the dead.
(*In Ancient Greek mythology, the pomegranate features prominently in the story of Persephone and her marriage to Hades, the god of the Underworld. Hades kidnapped Persephone and took her to the Underworld to be his wife. Persephone’s mother, Demeter, goddess of fertility, considering her daughter lost, went into mourning and thus all things on earth ceased to grow. Zeus, Persephone’s father, commanded his brother Hades to release her, however Hades had tricked her into eating six pomegranate seeds, and it was the rule of the Fates that anyone who consumed food or drink in the Underworld was doomed to spend eternity there. Since Persephone had eaten the six pomegranate seeds, she had to remain in the Underworld for six months of the year. Hades agreed to release her to the world above for the other six months of the year, to be reunited with her mother.
So, don’t let that person eat pomegranate fruit. For the sake of that person — so that he won’t be taken away to a place where the light of the ground doesn’t reach.
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— The night of crescent moon that wandered into a mysterious mansion of the 19th century from the Louvre Museum of the 21st century. 
Someone in the room attacked MC and bit her on the neck......the dream she had was terribly vivid.
Prologue Chapter 7 (official translation)
MC “......Just like a vampire would.”
MC “Dreams can be so realistic, even when they’re about the most unbelievable things.”
Sebastian “......”
MC “Thanks for listening to my silly dream.”
MC “I hope you don’t think I’m crazy for dreaming about vampires.”
Sebastian “I don’t think you’re crazy, nor do I believe it was just a silly dream.”
MC “You don’t think it was silly?”
Sebastian “No. Indeed, it’s a good sign.”
MC “My bad dream is a good sign?”
Sebastian “I believe you saw that dream because you’re here in this mansion.”
MC “You’re not making sense.”
Sebastian “The dream serves as a warning.”
Sebastian “......That you are to give them neither your body nor your heart.”
MC “Them?”
Sebastian “The residents of this mansion. For you see, everyone you’ve met tonight —“
Sebastian “They are exactly what you saw in your dream. They are all vampires.”
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— A month after Sebastian informed MC with a serious look.
(Tonight, Comte said the hourglass sand would completely drop.)
(It’s finally time to say goodbye to this mansion......)
Under the bright sunshine, MC stops drying the laundry and gazes at the mansion and garden fulls with blooming flowers.
The residents of the mansion are revived great men in history, and all of them are vampires.
MC was surprised when she heard that, but everyone accepted her, who was so anxious and bewildered.
(Before I know it, I’ve come to like this mansion so much that it feels lonely to bid my farewell.)
MC “After this, I won’t be able to take care of everyone or serving pancakes anymore.”
As MC feels helplessly lonely and loses in thought —
MC “......Ouch!”
Suddenly, MC is poked in the forehead and she immediately covers it with her hand.
Sebastian “You had a fluff on your head, so I brushed it off.”
(Sebastian......!)
MC “Thank you. Is there a dandelion somewhere in bloom?”
Sebastian “It’s a lie.”
MC “A lie?”
Sebastian “Stop being absent-minded, and please stretch the wrinkles of sheet properly.”
Sebastian “For quite a while, it feels like you’re flying to somewhere else, similar to a fluff.”
MC “Uu......I’m sorry.”
(He’s without restraint as ever......)
Sebastian is the only human among the residents of the mansion, and a Japanese who came from the same modern era as MC.
For the past month, MC has been helping him out as a colleague, and he’s considerably strict regarding his job.
MC “I’m really sorry. While thinking today is the last day I could help, I end up feeling sad.”
Sebastian “It’s certainly written all over your face.”
Sebastian lets out a small sigh without changing his expression.
Sebastian “Once you’re over with this, considered your job today is done.”
MC “Eh, but, I still have to prepare for dinner.”
Sebastian “Today is your last day in the mansion. You’ll need time to sort out your feeling.”
Sebastian “And tonight’s meal is special.”
MC “Special?”
Sebastian “It’s a dinner party to see you off, so I can’t let our guest of honor to help, right?”
(I am......the guest of honor......)
When MC blinks her eyes in surprise, Sebastian voice becomes softer......
Sebastian “For the past month, you’ve been trying your best in this unfamiliar world. Thank you for your hard work.”
(Sebastian......)
MC chest tighten hard to the tender words and the sign of farewell that shown through.
MC “I was able to do my best......thanks to Sebastian.”
Sebastian “Huh?”
MC “I......I knew nothing about this world, this mansion, the matter of living with all the vampires......”
MC “I had Sebastian to teach me that.”
Without Sebastian, MC might still be confined in her room in anxiety.
(I’m really glad Sebastian is my colleague.)
(That’s why, if I can work with Sebastian until today......I still want to work together.)
MC “I’m grateful for your consideration. But a job is still a job, so I want to finish it to the end.”
MC “More than anything, please let me help Sebastian.”
Sebastian “......”
Sebastian “What a good dedication. That’s exactly what I expected of my junior.”
With a sudden smile, Sebastian starts walking with an empty laundry basket.
Sebastian “Please follow me. Without holding anything back, I won’t let you cutting corners until the end.”
MC “*That’s what I want! By the way, have you decided on the dinner menu?”
(*望むところです - bring it on, just as I was hoping for
Sebastian “Yes. On top of grilled pork with mozarella cheese, we’re going to have wine braised beef tongue.”
Sebastian “There will also be saffron-flavored sea bream terrine, boiled rape blossoms with soy sauce, firefly squid with ponzu sauce and rich mango pudding.”
(The sense of Japanese-Western blending is amazing! But all those dishes mentioned before me are delicious.)
MC “I’m looking forward to it!”
With a smile, MC follows after Sebastian, who walks in dignified posture.
After that, she spends her last night with everyone in the mansion......
After the dinner party, the residents are gathered in front of the door to see MC off.
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Napoleon “Mimi, take care of yourself even when you return to your original world.”
Mozart “You’re rather careless, so don’t fall over and get injured before you could arrive.”
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Arthur “Hey, are you really going back? You haven’t go on a date with me yet.”
Theo “It’s a wise decision from hondje. If you go out with this guy, you’ll get eaten from the head in an instant.”
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Dazai “Toshiko-san, please stay healthy without catching a cold when you go back.”
Isaac “Dazai actually said something unusual and decent. But yeah, be careful not to get sick.”
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Jeanne “Yes, physical condition management is important at all times.”
Vincent “Mimi, I really enjoyed spending time with you.”
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Leonardo “The coffee mia cara poured was pretty splendid, you know?”
Comte “It seems very lonely to part with Mimi when everyone is here to see her off.”
(That’s......for me......)
As MC covers her face when her eyes turn hot, Sebastian hands her over a handkerchief.
Sebastian “Mimi, this.”
MC “Sebastian......I’m sorry I’m such a handful colleague to the end.”
With the handkerchief she received, MC bows her head while holding back her eyes that moist with tears.
Sebastian “It’s not a colleague’s guidance. I don’t think I can leave you alone with such a face.”
(This is really the last time we could talk this way......)
(Since Comte is the only one who can come and go freely through this door.)
MC “I......I’m glad to meet everyone.”
Sebastian “Look, you’re tearing up again. Please wipe it firmly.”
Comte “Don’t hold back too much. I’ll send you off at Louvre Museum.”
MC “Please, Comte.”
(Let’s go back to the original world before I’m feeling even reluctant to part......)
Comte “Well then, I’ll open the door.”
Comte slowly opens the heavy door.
Beyond that —··· instead of the corridor MC went through a month ago, there’s a distorted space spread out.
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(Eh......is it different from before?)
Everything is breathtaking, as the ominous light and darkness mixed together.
MC “......If I’m not mistaken, when I came here, I was lead to a dim corridor, right?”
Comte “Supposedly, since I came through that passage in 19th century.”
Comte “What in the world......it’s the first time the passage across space and time has disappeared.”
At the bizarre scene, Comte pulls MC back and hurriedly shuts the door.
Leonardo “Hey, Comte. What’s going on?”
Comte “I don’t know......but if we enter such space, I can’t predict which era it will drop us.”
(Then, I......)
Isaac “Like this, Mimi can’t go home then?”
Sebastian “......It will be for at least a month.”
Theo “The door that was closed once would open again a month later.”
A worried look from everyone tells MC the seriousness of the situation.
Comte “I’m sorry, Mimi. I’ll look into the cause.”
Comte “So can you stay in this mansion for a while?”
MC “...Yes......”
MC squeezes out her trembling voice and manages to hold it.
(I didn’t know such thing would take place......I wonder what will happen after this.)
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The next day, MC begins to live in the mansion again, and she’s still working as Sebastian’s assistant.
MC “Sebastian, I’ve finished washing the dishes. Is there anything else I can do to help?”
Sebastian “Thank you for your hard work. That’s all for today’s work.”
Sebastian, who silently polishes antique silver tableware, look as calm as ever even in this situation.
MC “......Something unexpected has happened.”
MC “The truth is, I shouldn’t be here anymore, and yet......”
(The surprise was bigger yesterday, but it gradually sinks in.)
(There is a possibility I could never go back to the world I thought I could return......)
When MC thinks to that extent, she get scared again and almost get swallowed up by anxiety.
Sebastian “I’m happy to work with you again.”
MC “Huh......”
Sebastian “It’s good to have manpower. Above all, you’re an excellent junior.”
(Ah, is that what he means?)
Sebastian smiles with a composed look much like a butler.
Sebastian “I’m sure you’ll find the solution, since everyone in the mansion and I are here for you.”
Sebastian “And also, did you forget? This is a rare situation where the great men of history are all gathered.”
Sebastian “There’s no impossible letters in this mansion’s dictionary.”
MC “Haha......”
MC reflexively smiles and feels less anxious.
(Right, let’s just not thinking only about the time I couldn’t return.)
(As Sebastian says, I’m not alone, and it would be all right since everyone is there.)
MC “Thank you very much. I feel uneasy, but now I’m going to try my best with my life in the mansion.”
Sebastian “That’s a fine dedication.”
Seeing Sebastian narrows his calm eyes, a question suddenly pops out in MC’s mind.
MC “Come to think of it, Sebastian has been here for a long time, don’t you?”
Sebastian “Yeah, time passed in the blink of an eye.”
MC heard that Sebastian, unlike the other great men, came to the mansion as Comte’s scout and became a butler.
(In other words, he hasn’t return to the original world since then.)
MC “Sebastian......have you ever missed your home and thought of wanting to go back to the present-day?”
Sebastian “......”
Sebastian “No. Placing myself among history is something I couldn’t hope for.”
Sebastian “I — since I abandoned this world myself.”
MC gets confused by his indifferent reply.
(What do you mean by throwing it away......? What’s the matter with your family and friends?)
(But......perhaps it’s something that he didn’t want to touch much.)
MC “I’m sorry for the sudden question. Errr......that’s it, I think I should keep the kitchen tidy!”
The moment MC put her foot on the stepladder and reaches out to a high place to beat the awkwardness —
MC “Kya!”
She loses her balance and her body slants a lot. 
(I’m going to fall......!)
Sebastian “Mimi......!”
(Huh?)
Sebastian “······——”
As soon as MC body is caught, something brushes against her lips.
Something that is warm and soft ···—
(Just now......)
When MC raises her face in the sudden moment, their gazes are entangled at a distance where Sebastian’s nose is sticking close to hers.
MC • Sebastian “......”
While both of them falling down to the floor, they stare at each other without looking away.
(Just now, Sebastian and I......)
They might have kissed —
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The moment MC realized it, the heat gathered on her face.
(How careless of me......!)
(But Sebastian......)
The body that has been pinned under, the arm that surrounds MC’s back......
It looks slender and firm with the feels of masculine.
MC strangely conscious of the warmth that touches her without a gap, and Sebastian’s eyes which’s reflecting her......
Sebastian “Mimi —“
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angelbabyszn · 4 years
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Can you write something about how the reader really likes Ruby and acts kinda like Jasmin (always trying to cheer him up, baking and babying him) and one day she overheard Ruby talking bad about how she won’t leave him alone and that she’s another Jasmin and how just attracts the crazies. She then stops interacting and you can finish it off however you want! You’re writing is amazing ❤️
I Adore You (Ruby X Reader)
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Requested!
OMB Masterlist
"Ruby! Ruby!" you shouted as you started to chase after him in the hallway.
Ruby turned his head around to see you. He started to feel fear through his body again.
"Run!" shouted Ruby and him and the rest of the core four start to run up one of the staircase hallways.
You stopped running once you reached at the bottom of the staircase where the core four ran up.
You grew a grin once you figured out how to get to Ruby another way. You continue running down the hallway to go up another staircase.
On the third floor, the gang was still running until Ruby started to slow down, following the others.
"Is she gone?" asked Ruby as the core four turned around to see if you were still following them.
"Hey guys." you said and the core four jumped and turned back around to see you with a huge smile on your face.
"Hi Ruby." you said as you smile and blush at him.
"Hi Y/N. What do you want?" asked Ruby with a fake smile trying not to lose it with you.
This was the fifth time today you approached him on a Monday. You give him a whole breakfast in English, try to help him in math, end up being partners in biology, sitting next to him at lunch and now here you are again talking to him not even five minutes after lunch ends.
You have the biggest crush on him forever and you really want him to be your boyfriend because he's everything that you want.
You try to make sure that you are perfect and do things for him so he would make him ask you on a date. On the other note, Ruby was annoyed by you.
You've been approaching him like this ever since Jasmine moved on from Ruby officially. (Crazy right?)
He thought he could get a break until you came along with the same behavior like Jasmine when she was into Ruby. You've been shooting your shot at Ruby for weeks.
"I want you to have these cookies that I made last night...for you." you said as you took out the cookies out of your purse and handed them over to Ruby.
"Thanks Y/N." said Ruby through his teeth in his fake smile.
"You're welcome, Ruben. See you later after school." you said and giggled after you said his nickname. You walk away with a huge smile on your face.
Ruby turns his head around to make sure you turn the corner and can't see you in sight.
"See you not later." said Ruby as he started to walk again with the rest of his friends behind him.
"Ruby, why don't you like Y/N? She's a sweet and kind person." asked Cesar as Ruby hung over your cookies to Jamal. He starts eating one of your cookies.
"I know she is. Ever since Jasmine stopped liking me, it seems Y/N took her place and started being like her. That's what makes me annoyed with her." said Ruby as Jamal hung the bag of cookies to Cesar and he started to eat a cookie while walking.
"She likes you though. Everybody shows emotions differently to the person they like." said Monse as she was handed the bag of cookies from Cesar and started eating a cookie from the bag.
"Yeah, yeah, I think we all know that." said Ruby while looking behind to see Monse's face while walking and she got offended.
"You gotta admit, these cookies are so good." said Jamal while eating his second cookie from the bag of cookies in his hand.
"Anyway, she's annoying and her gifts don't make sense. She better not come over to my house. End of story." said Ruby as the four of them enter history.
-
"How are we going to find Oscar? I need my brother back!" shouted Cesar across the dining table where Monse, Ruby, and Jamal jumped in shock by his statement.
"Don't worry, we will find-"
"Don't worry?! He's the only family I got in this f*ckin world! How am I supposed to not worry?!" shouted Cesar angrily at Monse.
Cesar is upset with himself because Spooky is out somewhere where nobody can't find him and he didn't bring backup. The core four was at Ruby's house after school.
Monse quickly got up and gave Cesar a tight hug. Cesar was tense for a moment until he gave in and hugged her back to relax.
"Let's go." said Monse quietly in Cesar's ear and both of them got up and walked into Ruby's room.
"I'm actually worried for him. Spooky got kidnapped." said Jamal.
"Yeah. Should we go check his house again?" asked Ruby.
"No need." you said going through the front door and shutting it behind you quickly with your foot and walking in quickly to the dining table with one-inch binders.
"Y/N?! What are you doing here?!" shouted Ruby shocked that Y/N really came to his house after school when he didn't invite you over at all!
Monse and Cesar came out of Ruby's room and walked back to the dining table.
"Helping. I heard what happened to Spooky. I have several locations that he may be at." you said while hanging out binders to everybody with their name on it and sodas.
Ruby opened the binder to first see a map of Freeridge and circles around the map.
"On the first page, you should see a map of Freeridge with circles that I think may be where he's located and the second page is why I think he's there." you said as Jamal turned to the second page to see your data in his own binder.
"Prophet$? They got locked away months ago! We all saw it!" shouted Jamal looking at you after reading the second page. The rest of the group look at you for an answer.
"Well, I think it could be them because there's probably some members out there that haven't been caught yet." you said confidently.
"19th street? Who are they?" asked Monse as she looked into one of the circles on the map of Freeridge.
"19th street is one of the underrated gangs around here. I don't think they took him." said Cesar.
"I think they could prove they are here to stay and want to be presented like Santos and the Prophet$." you said as Ruby turned to page three in his binder.
"Page three is my official full plan to get Spooky back. So, what do you think?" you asked with pride and Jamal, Monse, and Cesar look at Ruby still reading your plan in his binder for his consideration of you.
"Before you answer, I'm going to go to the bathroom. Chat among each other. Be right back!" you said and quickly left to go use the bathroom in Ruby's house.
Ruby looks to check if you locked the door and turn back to his friends once you did.
"I can't be with her any more!" said Ruby angrily.
"Why not? She was really nice to do this whole binder to help me find my mano." said Cesar.
"Spooky?! She don't care s*it about him!" shouted Ruby furiously and Cesar quickly got up and walked over to him with an angry face.
"What the h*ll you say?" asked Cesar angrily.
"No, not me. Y/N! The only reason she is doing this so she can talk and be with me just like with every crazy girl wanting to be with a guy! I swear she's a stalker!" shouted Ruby. Jamal heard you unlocking the door and starting walking out of the bathroom.
"Ruby." Jamal said, trying to warn Ruby about you.
"No, listen! She is crazy! I understand that she likes me but I don't need to be bothered! Every! Single! Minute!" shouted Ruby furiously. Monse turned her head to see you walking back to the dining table.
"Ruby!" shouted Monse trying to warn him again because you were coming back. Ruby turned to Monse and stood up and slammed both of his hands on the dining table.
"What?! I'm just saying. She has been doing this for a while and she needs to know. She's like another Jasmine." shouted Ruby angrily.
"I'm another Jasmine?"
Ruby turned his head and turned pale to see you with your arms crossed against your chest and an upset face on.
"Y/N! I-"
"Stop. Please. One, I do care about Cesar because Spooky is the only one who raised him when their father left them. Two, I didn't do all of this just to get closer to you. And third, I really like you Ruby! Do you not see that?! I gave you food, I've helped you with anything you need, I make sure you have everything everyday! Nobody does and cares about you that much except me! So if you don't want me or anything else, I'll be on my way." you said upset and angrily at Ruby and quickly started to walk up to the door.
You stop walking, grab the door handle, and look back at the group.
"Cesar, I hope you can find your brother soon. Text me if you need anything to help cause someone definitely doesn't." you said and you left out of the front door without looking back again.
"What just happened?" asked Ruby as he started to tear up in his eyes.
"You lost a rider amigo. That's what you lost." said Cesar and him, Monse, and Jamal start to gather their things, the binders you give them, and start to walk out of the front door.
"Guys! Where are you guys going? Cesar, we still got to find your brother!" said Ruby with a worried face.
"We got this. Y/N gave us a plan that we will use and appreciate." said Jamal and patted his right hand on his binder as Monse left out first and then followed by him.
"You on the other hand, apologize to Y/N. You know how much she likes you. She didn't deserve anything you just said. S*it, even after all of that, I wouldn't like you no more if I was her. Anyway, good luck." said Cesar with a warm smile and closed the door behind him as he left.
Ruby turns around, grabs his binder made by you, and walks into his room with his head down. He sat on the edge of the bed and flipped to the last page of the binder to see a letter from you.
Ruby looks up in realization after reading your letter and realizes what he has to do. He quickly got up, grabbed a nice shirt and pants from his closet, and started changing his clothes.
-
Around 9:20 in the night, you were working on math homework in your room while it was pouring down outside. A few moments later, I got a text from Ruby on your phone.
You rolled your eyes and continued on until another text from him came not even a moment later.
"I'm not answering. I'm not answering." you said repeatedly as you start on another problem after you finish the last problem you were on.
You got a third text from Ruby and you growl in annoyance as you pick up your phone and open his texts.
Ruben💙: Y/N
Ruben💙: Please talk to me.
Ruben💙: I'm outside your window
Your eyes widen by this recent text and quickly run to your window and pull your curtains away. You see Ruby soaked by the rain while holding a single rose.
"Ruby! Oh my god! Come inside!" you said as you open the window and Ruby quickly enters your room
"Ruby! What the h*ll?!" you shouted as you got towels from your closet and started to wrap them around Ruby. You were shocked he was even here right now.
"I'm sorry, Y/N." said Ruby softly while looking at you which made you stop and start to look back at him.
"I'm sorry. I knew you like me for so long. I should've said something because I like you too." said Ruby confessing while looking into your eyes.
"Are you lying to me?" you asked and looked into Ruby's eyes to see if there was any lie or uncertain features anywhere in his eyes or face but you didn't see any.
"Oh my god." you said and Ruby took the towels off of his body and bent down on his knee.
"What I said today was wrong. I've been through a lot this past year and I just don't know how to express my feelings anymore. I'm certain my feelings for you have never changed or been uncertain. I have liked you for a long time. The way you form a smile or laugh, the way your hair shapes your gorgeous face, the way you style to keep me interested, so many things. So many beautiful things about you." said Ruby as you continue to look into his eyes.
"Please forgive me." said Ruby and he pulls out the rose he got for you.
You took the rose and Ruby stood up from his knee without leaving his eyes off of you. You look at the rose that was now wet from the rain as you think if you should forgive him or not.
You looked back up to him to see forgiveness in his eyes. You feel like Ruby wasn't lying about him liking you. You felt your heart beating out of his chest as you got close to him and looked him in the eyes again.
"I forgive you. I also believe you. I know you didn't mean all of those words you said today. You were stressed with everything that was going on in your life. I want to be your supportive girlfriend. Will you let me?" you asked and Ruby smiled and nodded.
Ruby leaned in and kissed you softly for a few moments until it started to get passionate. You felt the kiss was real love and that's all you wanted in life. Two souls that finally found their way to their mate for life.
You drop the rose on your floor as Ruby starts to push you to your bed while kissing you, making you fall back on your bed.
You put Ruby on the other side of your bed that you were not laying on and continue kissing him throughout the night.
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mnthpprt · 4 years
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Chapter 8: Of Treason And Friendship
After changing back into my own clothes, I easily find my way to the training room, backpack and skates strapped to my shoulders. It is the middle of the night, so I am thankful to find an electric light switch has been installed in the deserted room. I don’t even bother to close the large door before sitting down in a corner and rummaging in the bag for my tools and spare set of indoor wheels. I am thankful for having decided to visit a local rink before my adventure in the Louvre, or my skates would be rendered useless in the uneven streets of the 19th century. Not that I would be able to skate outdoors, anyway, since it would be too odd a sight in this time.
I effortlessly swap the wheels, and proceed to fish out my wireless earbuds from a pocket. Soon, I am gliding across the polished wood, spinning and jumping to the tempo of an old playlist from my competitive days. I have not done a routine like this in years, but I find it to be the kind of thing you never forget how to do once you learn it. It is easy for me to let muscle memory take over. I successfully try a few camel spins to regain practice, and subsequently get too confident and fall while attempting to land an Axel.
Once again, my body takes the hit and reminds me how much faster than my mind it recovers. I get back on my feet and keep working on it, momentarily forgetting the past few hours. I become so completely absorbed by my routine that I am oblivious to the pale sunlight that begins shining through the large windows. Hours have passed without me knowing, and I suddenly catch something out of the corner of my eye during a spin.
I almost fall, startled, when I spot two men by the door, watching, completely mesmerized. I have no idea how long they have been there. I quickly regain my balance and skate over to them as I pull out my ear buds.
“Napoleon,” I greet the one I remember. My eyes trail down to his left hand, no longer bandaged. It appears to have completely healed overnight. “I, uh...” I stammer, consumed by the awkwardness of our last encounter. “I’m sorry I bit you yesterday. Took someone else trying to bite me to understand what you were doing. Thank you for... trying to help me, I guess. Even though it became a big misunderstanding. Now I get it.”
I apologetically extend my own hand to him in an attempt to clear the air, and to my surprise, he shakes it with an amused smile. His grasp is delicate, all too used to this time’s etiquette. It is somewhat nice that he still thinks of me as ladylike, after the way I acted.
“It’s all forgotten, Anaïs.” I return the smile, pleased with this new start. “What was it that you were doing? I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like you were floating, carried by the wind!” The wonder in his voice makes me chuckle. I keep forgetting how different my time is, compared to now. 
“Oh, just roller skating,” I explain, and lift up one foot so he can see better. “It’s a sport from my time that I used to compete in when I was younger.” His eyes widen, earning another chuckle. Of course, women participating in sports is not widely accepted yet, let alone competing in them.
“I was sorry to hear about what happened with Isaac. Have you been here all night?” The tinge of worry in his question makes me turn to the window. My eyes squint when I glance at the sky, the early morning sun directly in my line of sight.
“Oh, no, I lost track of time!” It is then that I see the swords in each of their belts. They must have waiting to use the training room. I turn to the other man, much taller than Napoleon. He wears an eyepatch over his right eye, with long strands of hair half covering it. “Sorry to keep you two waiting. You must be Jean, I believe you are the only resident of this mansion I have not spoken to yet.”
Jean’s face has scandal written all over it as he stares at me, his visible eye wide and a pink blush dusted over his cheeks. It takes me a second to figure out what his problem is. A quick glance at myself explains it: I am even more exposed than last night. Without the sweater, skin tight jeans and a tank top short enough to leave most of my midriff visible are all that’s on me. The visible ink all over my body certainly doesn’t help. I shoot off in the direction of my backpack, snatching up the sweater right next to it as I spin and come to a sudden stop in the exact same spot I started in, a couple feet from the two men.
As far as I remember, Jean d’Arc was an extremely devout Christian accused of heresy in her - I mean, his - time. I hastily pull the sweater over my head, and as soon as most of my skin is covered, I hear Jean cough.
“A-Anaïs”, he finally stutters. “I have been told about you.”
“Well, Jean d’Arc,” I say with a friendly smile, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
I retire to the side to let the two soldiers use the space, and take a seat on the floor by my belongings, where I change back into my shoes. For the next hour, I watch the men spar as I eat a cereal bar I found in a pocket and drink what’s left of my lukewarm smoothie from the previous day at the musée.
After a while, they decide to take a break from their intense combat training, and Jean practically runs out into the hallway as Napoleon walks over and sits beside me on the floor.
“Did I do something to offend him?” I wonder out loud.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Napoleon reassures me. “Jean is not very sociable, and well... your appearance is something new for all of us. But I understand it is normal in the future, to dress so scandalously.”
“Well, in that case...” I take off my sweater. It is much too warm to be wearing it here, and I only kept in on for Jean’s sake. I sigh in relief as the cool air touches my skin, and lean back against the wall, only to notice Napoleon observing me with curiosity. I let him, and after a short silence he finally asks what’s on his mind.
“Do people in your time paint their bodies like this every day? It must have taken you ages!” The innocence in his question makes me laugh. Immediately, he looks away, ashamed to have stared at me that way.
“It’s fine. It’s not paint. See?” I rub the skin on my forearm to show him the ink won’t budge, and then shift closer to let him do the same. “These are tattoos. They are permanent.” Napoleon’s fingers trail shyly over my skin, and soon he is holding my hand, moving my arm to better see it from different angles as I continue to explain. “It is ink, but it was injected there with a needle. It’s under my skin forever.” Napoleon gasps, prompting me to smile.
“Did... did it hurt? Why did you get them?” He has not let go of my arm yet, but his gentle touch does not bother me.
“They do hurt, but it mostly depends on the placement,” I explain. “These just felt like a surface scratch when I got them done.” His puzzled expression reminds me of the second question he asked. “As for why I got them, well... some of them have meaning or remind me of things, like this one,” I point to the stylized flower on my upper arm, encased in a perfect square. “It’s the symbol of my hometown. If I remember correctly, this tile will be designed in about ten years. In my time you can see it all over Barcelona. Which reminds me...”
I pull my arm away and turn to face him, a playful grin making its way onto my face. I can’t believe this man is the same Napoleon I studied in history class.
“You might have been perfectly nice to me, but don’t think I’ve forgotten about the Treaty of Fontainebleau and your little treasonous stunt.” He raises his eyebrows and looks away, but does not say anything. “Yeah, I learned about it in school. I guess you’ll have to make it up to me for invading my country, huh?” I joke, letting out another chuckle.
“I guess so.” Napoleon scratches the back of his head and joins me with a laugh of his own. “I learned the hard way not to mess with Catalans. You have a lot of fight in you, Anaïs.” As he says that, he massages the part of his hand between his index finger and thumb. The spot where I bit him.
“I am so sorry about that.” I blush, embarrassed, and smile awkwardly. “In my defence, I thought you were trying to kidnap me.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles and lifts his hand in front of me. “It’s all healed up. One of the perks of vampirism, apparently.”
“Oh!” I perk up, suddenly remembering something. “I’ve been meaning to ask... If you’re a vampire too, why did you try to help me escape?”
He becomes serious and lets out a deep sigh.
“I am just a demi-vampire.” I look at him, puzzled, and he continues. “That means I am more human than the others.”
Before I have time to ask more, Jean returns with two bottles of blanc and hands one to Napoleon. They both drink it and immediately begin sparring again. I can tell this conversation is over. Resigned, I gather my things and walk to the door, announcing my goodbye as I leave.
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oskea93 · 4 years
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Why Can’t I (3)
Warning: Language Hey guys! Sorry if this update is lame. I wanted to get something out before I started on the next update of Keep it to Yourself. This update is a bit more comical but I promise the good stuff is coming soon. Thanks to those that have read, liked, or wanted to be tagged. I appreciate you all!!
IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! 
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“You ever notice how dark the sky is when it’s night time.”
I stared up at the dark sky, giggling out of drunkenness from time to time. “I bet the astronauts need flashlights in space because of how dark it is.” I heard Duff laugh from beside me. At this point, I was thrashed! The stiff drink I had asked Duff for went from being a single shot to multiple shots within 1 hour. Not to mention a few beers thrown in here and there. I wasn’t the type to get drunk, especially with people I didn’t know. The last time I was drunk was on my 19th birthday when Bryn and I were arrested for public intoxication. It was my birthday and I was finally able to legally drink without it being a big deal. Let’s just say Bryn and I over did it and made total fools out of ourselves outside of Studio 54 in Manhattan. We thought we were having fun but the cops and club owners thought otherwise.
“Wouldn’t it be cool if we could go to space for like a day and then drive home.” Duff spoke. “It would be like driving to Disneyland.” I hummed in response, keeping my gaze on the stars above us. I didn’t have a clue as to what time it was but the sand below me was very comfortable and the crashing of the waves was making my eyes grow heavy with exhaustion.
“Are you falling asleep on me?” Duff poked my side. “You lightweight.” I groaned in response as he laughed, pulling his body to a sitting position. I looked over at him, my eyes trailing down his body. I watched as he stared out at the ocean, his blonde hair blowing lightly in the wind. He was very attractive! I don’t know if it was all the liquor that flowed through my bloodstream or the fact that I hadn’t been laid in almost two months, but Duff was killing me. I literally wanted to climb him like a tree and let him have his way with me.
“Duff?” I spoke without realizing it. He turned his head toward me, his green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Will you-”I started to speak, only stopping mid-sentence when a wave of nausea hit me like a brick. Without any warning, my thoughts of passionate sex with Duff were ruined by the contents of my stomach spilling out like Old Faithful in Yellowstone!
“Oh shit.” I heard Duff exclaim with a chuckle. I felt his fingers pull my hair back as I continued to throw up on the beach. I was totally embarrassed. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head no, dizziness soon falling over me, making everything around me spin out of control. Was I dying? Did I have alcohol poisoning? “I don’t feel good.” I moaned out, getting on my hands and knees, trying to keep myself somewhat balanced. I could feel my body staggering around like a Weeble Wobble toy. I finally gave up, falling back into the sand below me. “I’m dying.” I cried. I closed my eyes, hoping it would calm down the dizziness. I heard Duff’s footsteps (hopefully it was Duff’s footsteps) coming toward me. “I’m dying.”  
Duff started to laugh; God, his laugh was sexy. “I promise you’re not dying.” I cracked open my left eye, seeing him crouching down beside me. “Let’s get you off this beach and on a comfy bed.” He stood up to full height, pushing his long mane out of his eyes. Without any warning, his arms slipped under my body, picking me up bridal style. I instantly wrapped my arms around his neck, placing my head in the crook of his neck. The sudden movement caused my already fragile stomach to lurch in protest. Before I knew it was happening, Duff’s once clean shirt was now covered in vomit. He had stopped walking almost immediately, his arms tightening under my weight.
“I am so sorry.” I cried out. I didn’t even look up to see his reaction. If I was embarrassed before, I was absolutely mortified now. I have never thrown up on someone before and here I was emptying my guts on the guy I envisioned having sex with mere seconds ago.
“Believe it or not-”He started talking. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been puked on.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening right now! This was why I don’t drink. I was becoming one of those girls you see outside of the club, puking her guts out into the nearby dumpster. However, I didn’t have a dumpster to puke in… I puked on a human being….
“You weren’t kidding, man.”
“I can’t believe something so perfect as that barfed all over the place last night.”
“Dude, beautiful girls can’t hold their alcohol. I can’t tell you how many times I had a babe puke on me or puke on my guitar. I fucking hate when that happens.”
“Oh shit, she starting to wake up.”
My body was fucking killing me. From my head pounding, to my ribs aching, I felt like absolute shit. The only good thing was that this bed was super comfortable. I let out a groan, slowly rolling over in the bed and onto my back. The sun shined through the white curtains, warming the room with natural heat. As my eyes adjusted to the sunlight and my aching hangover, I realized that this was not my bed and it was not my room.  I looked down at my attire, an unfamiliar, baggy sleeveless shirt covered my torso and my shorts had been removed.
“Good morning!” 
I jumped up in surprise, seeing two guys standing near the door. I instantly pulled the blanket tighter to my body, fear washing over me. “Who the hell are you?” I cried out. “Where am I?” The memory of being with Duff and what had happened last night flew out the window, being replaced with a fight or flight reaction.
The blonde’s face fell, “No, it’s okay.” He started to come closer. “You see-” He paused, gesturing between him and the curly headed guy. “We’re friends of Duff’s.” I looked at him confused. “He told us to watch you while he went out to get some medicine. He figured you would have a hangover.”
“When’s he coming back?” I asked. “Is he coming back?”
The blonde started to smile again, “Yeah, he’ll be back soon.”
I stayed silent, still clutching the blanket to my frame. Even though the shirt was covering me, I still felt uncomfortable and naked. “Can I have some privacy, please?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, sure thing.” The blonde quickly backed out of the room, the curly headed guy following his lead. Once they were out of the room, I tore the covers off me and stood up.
“Fuck.” I muttered, grabbing onto my head.
Once the rush was over, I stood up straight and looked around the room. My top from last night was nowhere to be found. Luckily, my wristlet and sunglasses were placed on the wooden dresser in front of the bed. I made my way over to the piece of furniture, grabbing my things to leave. I placed my sunglasses over my eyes and started walking toward the door. I needed to get out of here and back to my own hotel room before Duff appeared. Even though we didn’t do anything, at least I hope we didn’t do anything, I was totally embarrassed by my actions. I fucking threw up on the guy! Who does that? Plus, I’m sure Bryn was worried sick and had every island police officer looking for me at this point.
“Should I leave a note?” I asked myself aloud. I looked behind me to see if there was any paper. “Fuck it.” I ditched the notion. What was I supposed to say anyway? “Hey, thanks for being there with me while I got drunk. Sorry I threw up all over you.” I don’t fucking think so.
I made my way through the house, passing by Duff’s friends. Their attention was focused on the TV in front of them, giving me a clean break to leave. I quietly closed the door behind me and started walking toward the shops that lined the streets…
“I was worried sick, Lauren!”
I rolled my eyes as I combed my wet hair. When I finally made it back to the hotel, Bryn wasn’t there. I counted my lucky stars at that point because she would have hounded my ass as soon as I walked past the threshold. Her not being there gave me some time to sober up and clean myself up from last night. I didn’t need her seeing me in a stranger’s shirt, looking like I had a drunken one night stand.
“We are in a foreign area, Lauren. You could have been kidnapped. You could have been raped. There are so many thoughts running through my mind right now.” I rolled my eyes at her reaction. “Were you alone or did you spend the night with someone?”
“I was with a-”I thought of the right word to explain Duff. “I was with a friend.”
“A friend?”
I nodded my head, “A friend.” I repeated. She stared at me through the mirror. It was evident that her brain was in overdrive as she thought of who I could have spent the night with. “Oh my God.” She breathed out. “You were with that guy from the bar!”
I let out sigh, placing my head down on the counter. “He’s a weirdo, Lauren. He could have kidnapped you and then we would have never seen you again.” She was pacing at this point. “Oh God, did you have sex with him? Did you cheat on your loving fiancé with some miscreant?”
I removed myself from the vanity, walking past her and back into my room. “You’re not answering my questions, Lauren.” She followed me like a puppy. “When you don’t answer it means that you did something.”
“I didn’t fucking sleep with him, Bryn.” I exploded. “If he wasn’t there then God knows where I would be right now.” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he looks a little rough on the edges but he’s a good guy.”
Bryn let out a huff, muttering a string of words as she turned to exit the bedroom. Sure, Duff didn’t look like Luke or any of the guys that Bryn and I hung around. He had tattoos, drank like a pirate, and had long hair. He was different and that’s what Bryn hated. I mean it wasn’t her fault, it was just the way she was brought up. Bryn’s parents were wealthy squares who looked down on those that didn’t look like them. Like Billy Joel sang, “She’s been living in her white bread world.”
I guess you could say that my parents were the same way. They were very judgmental of those that didn’t come from the top social-class, my father especially. You needed to have three silver spoons in your mouth before my father acknowledged you. My mother just went with the flow, basking in my father’s success and hanging out with Bryn’s mother at the country clubs and luxury clothing stores. I could have ended up just like them but thankfully God gave me feelings and empathy for others…
@fancywasmyname1​ @sparxx27​ @siliwanoel​
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mearcatsreturns · 5 years
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We Part Only to Meet Again, ch. 10
A problem springs up with Luka’s work visa and he is on the verge of having to leave the country. Abby can’t stand the thought of him leaving and offers a solution: a green card marriage. It might kill them both, but they're committed.
Mark's funeral brings sadness to our couple, as well as some old friends to churn up insecurities.
@somekindofflowergirl and I are back! This story is, as always, also on ao3 if that’s where you prefer to read. 
And a quick disclaimer:  We both like Carol, we really do. One of the things we love about ER, though, is that even the characters we love the most are very human, and thus allowed to have very human faults. Some of Carol's faults are on display here, but it doesn't mean we don't love her, so please keep that in mind as you read!
Ch. 10: Near Death at a Funeral
Abby leaned back into Luka, his hand at the small of her back grounding and comforting her. Mark’s funeral was...harder than she expected.
She and Mark hadn’t been close, but she hadn’t been lying—she looked up to him and saw a lot of the traits she wanted to have as a doctor.
And it was awful seeing how broken and devastated Dr. Corday was.
Corday was so strong and capable, one of the most gifted and empathetic surgeons Abby knew. Yet here she was, crippled by loss, held together only by the need to do so for her daughter and step-daughter.
Abby shivered, glad that Luka was a warm and solid presence at her back. Glancing up at him, she met his questioning eyes. She shrugged at him and turned back to face the funerary proceedings, trying to hold in a smile when she felt Luka kiss the top of her head.
Near the end of the funeral, she felt Luka stiffen next to her, but she couldn’t tell what he was looking at. (The perils of being short, she thought with a sigh.) Hopefully, everything was going smoothly as possible, for all their sakes.
Afterwards, they piled into cars and headed to the reception/wake. She noted with some relief that it wasn’t at a bar, though there would undoubtedly be plenty of alcohol flowing. Fortunately, she had Luka beside her to help keep her accountable. Reaching across the center console, she rested her hand on his thigh and squeezed lightly, hoping she could wordlessly convey the depth of her gratitude and affection.
He smiled at her and took her hand, twining their fingers together. “It was a good service.”
“It was. And Elizabeth seems...well, she seems okay, under the circumstances.”
“It’s hard. But it’s good she has Ella and even Rachel.” His reply was quiet, matter-of-fact, and her heart broke for him. He knew the pain Elizabeth was in, and his loss had been compounded by losing his children at the same time.
Pulling his hand to her lips, she pressed them to his knuckles. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. And I had my parents there for me. It seemed...I don’t know, I hardly remember the day of the funeral, but I’m glad they were there to see me through.”
“I am too, you know.”
Arriving at the restaurant, Luka helped Abby out of the car. She wrapped her arms around his waist in a quick hug before they headed in. “Ready?”
“If you are,” he said with a nod.
They walked in hand-in-hand. They had just made their way to the refreshment table when Abby heard a soft and familiar voice call out, “Luka!”
Carol. Carol Hathaway, Luka’s first crush at County, here in the flesh. It hadn’t escaped Abby’s notice that Luka hadn’t started showing interest in her until after Carol was gone. So now she stood, frozen in place as Luka lit up, beaming at his former maybe-flame.
He let go of her hand to go hug Carol, and she continued to stand there, rooted to the floor.
“I saw you at the funeral, but I’m glad we have a chance to say hello here,” Luka said. Ah, that explained his moment of distraction. “Are the girls with you, or…?”
“We left them with my mom, actually. And it’s too bad it had to be such a sad thing bringing us back out here, but I’d love for you to meet Doug. If you’re okay with that.”
Luka nodded, smiling at Carol before blindly reaching behind him. “Oh! And you were right, you know. About me finding someone. Ah, you already know her, but Abby Lockhart? She and I are married now.”
Abby peeked around from behind him, coming to stand beside him.
She wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or insulted by the way Carol’s eyes widened in shock. It definitely veered more toward insult when Carol’s mouth tightened and she raised an eyebrow at Abby.
“Congratulations,” she said, falsely cheerful. “Oh, here comes Doug. Doug!” she called out to him. A smiling man of average height with salt-and-pepper hair made his way over to them.
Huh, so this was the (in)famous Doug Ross, former heartthrob and heartbreaker of County. Abby supposed he was good-looking, but she was unimpressed when she compared him to Luka. Still, she pasted a smile on her face.
Glancing up at Luka, she sighed internally when she saw the mildly contemptuous sneer hidden behind the polite mask. God, she hoped he wouldn’t be a complete idiot.
Carol softened as she looked at Doug and took his arm, and Abby let her guard down a fraction of an inch at the sight. “Doug, come meet my friend Luka and his wife, Abby.”
Oh, lovely. Being introduced as a friend’s spouse and not one in her own right, or even as the person who had delivered their children.
Doug shook Abby’s hand first. “Nice to meet you. Your name rings a bell—were you at County back in ‘98 and ‘99?”
“Nice to meet you too. And um, kind of? I took shifts up in OB as a nurse while I was in med school. That’s actually how I met Carol.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, I actually helped deliver Tess and Kate—how are they, by the way?”
Paternal pride exuded from him at that. “They’re great. I can’t believe they’re going to be three this year.”
“That’s crazy,” Abby agreed. Turning to Carol, she asked, “How are you liking Seattle?”
“It’s nice. The people are decent, and I gotta say, the weather has Chicago beat,” she said.
Luka grinned. “But what about the food? There’s not pizza like here.”
“Okay, so no good pies, but the rest of the food probably wins, especially the seafood.”
“That makes sense. I’m looking forward to taking Abby to Croatia in a couple months, the seafood there is amazing.”
“If it’s like most of the dishes you make, it’ll be great,” Abby said, smiling at her husband.
Carol looked between them, smile growing forced. “So...how did you two happen? It’s been, what two years? You were still married last time I saw you, Abby.”
“Well, like I mentioned a few times, it was nearly done. I was in the process of getting a divorce.” She had a growing suspicion all of the sudden that latter nugget of information hadn’t been shared with Luka.
Doug picked up his drink from the table and took a long sip.
“And I found out she was single about a month or so after it was over, right?” Luka asked.
“Yep.” Normally, she’d love to elaborate—their story was cute, dammit—but she was starting to get the feeling that no matter what she said, Carol wouldn’t be thrilled.
Luka, however, had no such reservations. “She had to quit med school, and when she was back as a nurse, I still let her place a chest tube, and Kerry was very unhappy about it. We were in the ambulance bay when she kissed me out of nowhere.”
“You were being so sweet and encouraging, I couldn’t help it,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.
“I remember how kind Luka can be. He’s lucky half the hospital hasn’t kissed him for it at this rate,” said Carol.
Abby gritted her teeth.
“Then we were in lockup a couple days later, and she asked me out,” Luka continued, oblivious.
“Oh, she asked you,” Carol said in a knowing tone.
Jesus. Did the woman think she’d drugged and kidnapped Luka? She couldn’t help her snappish response. “To which he said yes very quickly. He suggested that same evening, in fact.”
Doug finished his drink.
“Well, it must have moved quickly from there.”
Abby and Luka exchanged a look, not sure what they could share. Abby decided to bite the bullet. “We dated for about a year before breaking up, actually.”
In spite of herself, Carol looked intrigued. “Oh? But you two obviously got back together?”
Luka smiled. “It was a while apart, but yes. I went back to Bosnia and Croatia for a couple months, and we missed each other like crazy.”
“He got back and we just...connected again.”
“Marriage seems a bit extreme though, even if you missed each other,” said Carol.
Luka shrugged. “When you know, you know,” he said, looking down at Abby, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.
Abby softened, the tension coiling in her back releasing a little. At least until Carol spoke again. “Well, that’s sweet. Unless congratulations are in order and you just haven’t said yet,” she replied, gesturing to Abby’s obviously non-alcoholic beverage.
It was a wonder her glass didn’t shatter with how tightly Abby gripped it. She didn’t want to talk about this, especially when children were such a sensitive subject for Luka. They hadn’t had a chance to discuss it yet, and she had mixed feelings about how it would be received, especially given that she needed to tell him she’d had an abortion before, at least if they ever broached the topic.
But rolling her eyes, Abby shot back, “This isn’t the 19th century. As you’re well aware. Even if I were knocked up—which I’m not, though you can join Frank’s club in doing a belly watch if you’re so inclined—we wouldn’t have to get married. We did that because we wanted to.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, and you look great,” Carol said, rushing to smooth things over.
“Thanks, I think. So. You two married yet?” Abby asked, gesturing between Carol and Doug.
Doug nearly choked on the mini quiche he was eating, and Carol turned a mottled red. Luka smirked and raised a challenging eyebrow at Doug.
“Uh, not yet. It hasn’t been high on our priority list,” Doug finally managed.
Luka wrapped an arm around Abby, and she let herself lean in toward him. “I highly recommend it,” he said.
Susan made her way over to them then, greeting Carol and Doug with hugs. After a couple minutes, she turned to Abby, “Hey, could I get your help in the bathroom? Jing-Mei has that, uh, issue again and you remembered how to handle it last time.”
Since Abby had no idea what Susan was talking about, it had to be about something else. Reluctantly, she agreed and followed Susan.
Once they were in the bathroom, she couldn’t rein in her exasperation, “What’s going on?”
“I was just trying to keep you from challenging Carol to duel. We’ve had enough of that this year.”
Abby snorted. “Oh, come on, I wasn’t going to take one of the salad forks and charge her or anything.”
“It just looked a little...tense,” Susan said tactfully.
“It was,” she replied, sighing. “I don’t know what the deal is. I know Carol and Luka kind of dated before he and I did, but nothing much happened between them before she went to go be with Doug. It just seems like she’s, I don’t know, trying to protect him from me. He’s my husband, for god’s sake.”
“How did you two get along back in the day?”
“Mostly fine. When she found out I was a med student and not ‘just’ a nurse, she got a little bent out of shape, but I thought it blew over. We weren’t close or anything, but I thought we were on decent terms.”
“Yeah, that’s not what decent terms looks like.”
“I’d kind of figured that out,” Abby said, softening the snark with a smile. Susan was a good friend to her and doesn’t deserve for Abby to take out her frustrations on her.
Susan chuckled, then asked, “So is Luka always that oblivious, or…?”
“Oh my god, he’s the worst. Would you believe he’s actually gotten better?”
“I don’t get what you see in him,” she said, pausing, “well, except for the classic good looks, kindness, and being incredibly in love with you.”
Abby flushed fire hydrant red. “Is he now?”
“Attractive and kind? Duh. And nauseatingly into you? That can’t be news to you. And I still need brain bleach after catching you two post-coital last week.”
Shaking her head, she asked, “So...am I freaking out over nothing?”
“I really don’t think you need to worry about Luka.”
“It’s just...I’ve seen some pictures of Danijela, Luka’s first wife. Carol has the same curly dark hair, they’re both more...uh, curvaceous than I am, and it’s hard not to wonder, you know?”
“Abby, has Luka even mentioned Carol since she left?” Susan asked, exasperated.
“No…”
“I don’t know Luka very well, and I’m still getting to know you, but have you considered that maybe he’s not looking for a redux of his first wife? From what I can tell, he seems to like you. You’ve even said it, you’re best friends. Maybe his type changed, and it’s you.”
Abby wasn’t sure how to respond, or even think about it, for that matter. It was times like this where the secret of why they got married weighed on her. She wanted to confide in Susan, for god’s sake. “Huh.”
“Just some food for thought. So...once more unto the breach?”
“As long as Jing-Mei isn’t actually suffering from anything, sure.”
They headed back out, finding Luka, Carol, and Doug right around where they left them.
Luka smiled and reached out to wrap his arm around her shoulder when she got back to him, and Abby leaned in, hooking her arm around his waist. She relaxed at the familiar feel of him pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Maybe Susan was right; maybe this wasn’t a complete disaster.
Then he spoke. “I invited Doug and Carol over for dinner tomorrow night. We can do a nice double date, especially since we haven’t had a chance to celebrate you going back to med school in the next months.”
“You’re going back to med school?” Carol asked sharply, eyeing Abby with renewed suspicion.
Oh, screw this, she thought. “Yep, I sure am. Luka wants me to, so I figured I’d go along with it. Gotta be the good little wife, you know.”
Doug froze, Carol looked taken aback, and even Luka stilled.
Susan took a deep breath, and then blurted out, “Did you all hear that Carter and I dated? What a wild time.”
Doug and Carol just blinked at her, nonplussed, but then she dragged them away, telling them she couldn’t wait to tell them more, that they just had to find Carter.
Abby’s shoulders slumped. She was still angry, but now she had to face the music.
&&&
Luka was confused.
The funeral had been hard, even if he and Mark hadn’t been close. Seeing Rachel, the same age Jasna would be had she lived, always made his heart twist.
He’d been excited to see Carol at first, but it had been weird, to say the least. Doug wasn’t ever going to be in his good books, not after missing the birth of his children and most of their first year. Luka had been a little less than welcoming, but he hadn’t expected the real tension to be between Abby and Carol. That had come out of nowhere.
Abby was keyed up, though he wasn’t sure why exactly. Her brown eyes were snapping and throwing darts while her cheeks darkened and she looked good like that, whatever the reason. It was distracting. He couldn’t focus on what they were saying.
She couldn’t possibly be jealous, could she?
God, he’d had feelings for Carol, sure, but looking back, it was more that she was his first friend in Chicago, the first person who he’d connected with since coming to America. Yeah, he’d been interested, and she’d had a slight interest in return, though it was clear where her heart had lain, and it was never with him. It had hurt at the time, but then Abby had happened. He hadn’t even thought of Carol since. Surely Abby knew that. If not, he’d take her home and thoroughly remind her exactly where his interest was.
Luka was only half listening to Abby and Carol. He didn’t fully tune back in until Susan came up and dragged Abby off to help Jing-Mei with something, leaving him standing awkwardly with Carol and Doug.
“Well, that’s…interesting, Luka. I hope that your marriage is…everything that you wanted.”
Carol’s tone was odd, and he found himself wanting to prove to her how good he had it now. She’d been right that he’d needed someone who really loved him, and he was grateful she had done the right thing and left. Maybe Abby wasn’t 100% there yet, but he thought she was getting there. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. If Carol could only see them together in a more natural setting, she’d see.
The three of them traded a few questions about work, but finally Luka couldn’t help himself.
“How are the girls doing? They’re three now, right? Is Kate letting you sleep now? I remember what a hard time she gave you, that phase when she would only calm down for me.”
It was satisfying to see the amusement slide off Doug’s face at last. Abby would probably have told him not to start a pissing match, but he couldn’t help his disdain for this guy. He had left his children. He left Carol to take care of newborn twins on her own. Yeah, so Carol told him to go, but whatever. Luka would never do that, no matter what happened between him and Abby.
“They both sleep like champs now. At least, they save the screaming and running us ragged for the daylight hours.” Carol gave him a strained smile.
“Good, good.” He’d gotten that jab in and now he didn’t really know what else to say. The other two were shifting now, he’d poked at a wound, and he felt like a jerk instead of feeling vindicated. He looked around, hoping someone would come intervene. He’d even take Carter. Damn, no such luck. “So, uh…how long are you planning to be in Chicago?”
“We leave on Tuesday.”
“Would you, uh, like to come over for dinner on Sunday night? Abby and I would love to have you.” That might have been overstating it a bit, but he didn’t want to leave things like they were.
Doug’s smirk was back and he took a long swig of his drink before shrugging at Carol. Luka wished for some alcohol of his own for a second, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to make it harder on Abby.
“Uh, we…don’t have any plans, so…yes, I guess that works for us.”
They made plans for seven and Luka gave her their number to confirm the address later. Abby and Susan came back then and Luka smiled at her return. Whatever the issue had been, she seemed alright now, and he hugged her to his side.
Unfortunately, that was a brief reprieve.
&&&
They didn’t stay long after that, just long enough to make the rounds to give their condolences and greet all their coworkers. Abby softened enough during their brief exchange with Corday and Rachel that Luka thought she had calmed down. But when he put his hand on the small of her back, she scowled at him harshly enough to make him jerk his hand back.
What had he done?
An annoyed Abby would usually snipe at him or even confront him, but this time she was sitting rigid as a stone, staring determinedly out the window while waves of rage poured off her. He waited the whole ride for her to yell at him, to tell him what the problem was so he could fix it, but the only indication that she even knew he was there was how hard she was ignoring him.
Once they made it to their apartment, he shut and locked the door behind them and waited for the onslaught, but Abby headed straight upstairs without a backward glance. Luka took a fortifying breath and followed as she made a beeline for the bathroom and the medicine cabinet. He bounced on his feet as she took some pain pills and swallowed them with water from the sink.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
He wished he’d kept quiet when she turned to him with an incredulous glare.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Uh…no? You’re upset that I invited them over…”
Abby stormed off to the bedroom and he followed, hoping that was the right move. He was so lost.
“You seriously need me to spell out why? You’re really that oblivious?”
At his shrug, she groaned in frustration.
“Carol was awful to me through that whole conversation. She acted like I’m beneath you or something, like I had to trick you into marrying me because there’s no other way that could ever happen. And I’m supposed to invite her into our home and…what?”
Luka cringed. He probably should have paid closer attention to that interaction.
“I…I didn’t see it that way. I knew she didn’t approve, and I thought if she saw us together at home, saw how we are together, she might change her mind.”
“Do you need her approval?”
Shit, shit, shit.
“No, I don’t need it. She was just my first friend here, and I thought she’d be happy for me.” Apparently he was wrong there, and that sucked.
“She wasn’t really just a friend, though, was she?”
Luka rocked back on his heels. She was jealous. That was ridiculous, but also…kind of hot. He knew Abby had been insecure about Danijela, but he hadn’t realized she had possessive streak.
“She was cold the first time I met you in the ER, and I thought it was about me being a med student, but now…and then OF COURSE she told you I was married and left off the ‘soon to be divorced’ part of that.”
“Abby…” Okay, that was a little odd. “Maybe she forgot, maybe she was just mistaken?”
“Are you seriously making excuses for her right now, after how she acted today?”
“I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention. I saw there was tension, but your eyes got all bright and snappy, and that suit is…my mind wandered, okay? I didn’t hear everything.”
“You cannot be hitting on me right now, not after all of that and you making excuses for her treating me like shit and then inviting her to our home to do it more!”
Luka sighed and lowered himself to the bed, resigning himself to the argument. “I’m sorry! I saw it was weird and wanted to smooth it over.”
“Why does keeping the peace with her even matter when she isn’t part of our lives anymore?”
Okay, he had to know now.
“Is that what this is about—you’re jealous of Carol?”
As soon as it was out, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Abby flinched and he could see the hurt momentarily, before anger took over her face again.
“No, I’m not jealous, do I have reason to be?”
He was pretty sure that meant he was right, even if that wasn’t helpful.
“No, I just thought—she and I weren’t even really together.”
“Well, that wasn’t your choice, was it?”
Okay, now he was getting pissed off, too. “No, it wasn’t. But I haven’t even thought about her in the last couple years.” Not since the first time Abby had kissed him, in fact, but he wasn’t clarifying that now.
“Okay, but you just…you don’t know what that feels like.”
“I don’t know what what feels like?”
He was so lost. This was why he hated fighting, it was never about one thing, it spiraled, and he couldn’t control it.
“Being jealous.”
Huh? Was she serious?
“Wait, what? You think I don’t…? What?”  But he was the oblivious one? “Abby, what the hell did you think all the stuff with Carter was about?”
“I know you got annoyed because I listened to him instead of you, but…”
“Me being jealous was half the reason we broke up! And what did you think the fencing thing was about?”
“Okay, I guess I do know that NOW. I just..the first time we were together, I didn’t think you cared enough to be jealous.”
Did she still not get how he felt about her? Anyone who knew them knew he was head over heels. Hell, their neighbors, strangers, all knew. Everybody except for Carol, apparently, but worse, maybe Abby too.
It wasn’t the time for a love confession. He was still mad, and so was she, though her breathing had slowed and her shoulders slumped. But how did she not know?
“God, Abby, the reason I was only half listening is because I wanted to be with you so badly. How can you not know I want you?”
He had to show her. He spun her toward him by the elbow and she yanked on his tie until he bent down to kiss her roughly. The kiss snapped something between them, and they both turned their energy toward making out furiously instead of fighting. Luka pulled Abby’s hair clip loose and threaded his fingers through her hair, kissing every inch of her he could reach with his mouth as he worked the buttons of her jacket open. She pulled on his tie hard, and he was forced to duck for her to maneuver it over his head before she tossed it somewhere behind him, where it joined his jacket.
He growled at her top with the tiny straps, the kind that normally drove him crazy in a good way but at the moment was just another damn obstacle, before she huffed and pulled it off herself. As he fumbled with her pants—why did women’s pants have to have inside and outside buttons and hooks anyway?—she painstakingly undid each of his shirt buttons, one by one.
“Just rip them!” He bit out impatiently.
“No. I like this one.” She retorted back.
She was still angry. Well, so was he. But he refocused as he slipped her out of her pants and underwear, finally getting his hands on her bare skin as she got his shirt off and ran her nails up his chest.
It didn’t take long to get the last few articles of clothing off, but it still felt like an eternity to Luka. He mouthed at her breast and slipped his hand down to make sure she was ready, and she gripped his hair hard. She moaned and arched against him, and though everything seemed—and certainly felt—right, he had the fleeting thought that perhaps sex wasn’t the healthiest option. But he wanted to get rid of everything in between them: Carol, the space, their clothes, even their own insecurities. So when Abby whined at him in frustration, he hitched her up against him before tossing her lightly on the bed and climbing over her. She wrapped her legs around him and he slid home.
Usually she was the talker in bed, but this time he was, chanting her name, trying to burn his love and longing for her into her skin and brain and heart. She felt so perfect against him and around him. God, she was everything to him, and he was doing his best to show her everyday but especially now. It wasn’t long before she gasped and shivered against him and he finished with a hard jerk and another cry of her name.
He collapsed onto the mattress before pulling her into his arms, hoping she wasn’t going to draw away. It seemed that both of their tempers had been burned out by their passion as she nestled into him and pressed a gentle kiss to his chest. Luka knew Abby’s temper might rekindle at any moment, though, and he searched for the words to repair their rift. It turned out that he didn’t need to.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I know it’s not your fault that Carol was a jerk. It’s just...she was right, in a way.”
“If she thinks you’re not good for me, she was not right, Abby. And I’m sorry she made you feel so bad.”
“No, I mean...I mean about how we got married. It wasn’t exactly traditional.”
Luka winced when he remembered thinking she was ashamed of it. “It wasn’t, but that doesn’t make it wrong or bad.”
“I know, but it does make me wonder…”
Wonder what? She couldn’t think he would marry just anyone. Instead of continuing, she stared at his chest.
“I wouldn’t have married you if it was just to stay here. You know that, right?”
When she didn’t respond, he bent his head and tipped her chin up with a light touch.
“Hey. I wouldn’t have,” he repeated firmly.
She blinked in acknowledgement, but he could see the questions still lingering in her eyes. Ah, to hell with waiting for the right time, she needed to know how he felt, even if it made his gut clench with the fear that she wasn’t there yet.
“Abby, I—“
The ring of the phone interrupted. Luka closed his eyes, torn between relief and annoyance.
“It’s okay, you can answer.” Abby got up and made her way to the bathroom as he watched. As the ringing continued, he threw on his boxer shorts. A hollow, let down feeling settled in his chest as he grabbed for the damn phone.
“Hello?” He answered with little grace, not caring if his tone was impolite.
“Hello? Luka?” It was Carol. Great.
“Uh, yeah.” He waited for her to confirm that she was coming over for the most ill-conceived double date in history.
After an uneasy pause, she spoke. “Doug just reminded me—I forgot with the funeral and all—we actually have plans with Peter and Cleo that night, so we won’t be able to come over for dinner.”
Thank GOD. Luka still kind of wished he could see Tess and Kate, make sure they were alright, and find out if Doug was actually a good father and partner to Carol, but none of that was worth making Abby feel like crap.
He couldn’t remember Benton and Cleo having any particular attachment to Carol. He’d also gotten the feeling there wasn’t a lot of love lost between the two men, either, but he was too grateful for the escape to mention it.
“Oh, that’s…” fantastic! “...a shame. We’ll have to catch you next time.” He begged silently that there wouldn’t be a next time, or that it would look very different from this one.
“Yeah, and about earlier…” He really hoped she wasn’t going to rag on Abby, this time to him. One yelling match in a day was more than enough for him. “I’m sorry if I was a bit, um, surprised by you and Abby. It was an emotional day and it just caught me off guard.”
“Okay…”
“Haleh and Susan filled me in on some of the stuff I missed out on, and I’m really happy that you found someone who loves you, Luka.”
Well, finally. And oh, he hoped she was right.
“Thanks, Carol. I’m glad things are going well for you too, you and Doug and the girls.”
They quickly said goodbye and hung up, and though Luka was still a little annoyed at Carol, he felt relieved to part on decent terms. He looked up to see a now-dressed Abby hovering in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.
“That was Carol, they had to cancel.”
Abby snorted and smirked. “I’ll bet they did.”
He smiled back. “Anyway, we won’t have to sit through that now. It wasn’t one of my best ideas.”
“You don’t say.” His wife was back to normal, if the eye rolls were any indication.
He took her in, trying to screw up his courage and finish what he’d been about to say before the phone call, when she interrupted.
“I’m starving. Can we get Chinese?”
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
He deflated as she grabbed the phone and called their usual place for delivery.
Abby deserved better, he decided, than a rushed “I love you” as a result of a fight. She didn’t get a romantic proposal--or even a proposal at all, and even their wedding hadn’t been a fairytale, though it had been both romantic and wonderful. It was better to wait, to plan...something...for that declaration. Even if the words burned inside him, she was worth the wait.
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xxelijahxxscottxx · 5 years
Text
i wanna see you be brave|darco
Who: @sshardassanderson && @southsidefranco
Where: Franco’s hospital room
When: 19th January in the morning.
Info: Dare makes good in his promise to visit Franco.... Lots of fluff, a confession and a dream come true.
Word Count: 3,378
Trigger warnings: None (I think).... Fucko crying.... Lots of angst!
@sshardassanderson in ITALIC & @southsidefranco in BOLD
After going over to Blaine’s for the night to recharge from the nonsense of yesterday, Dare got up early to make sure he could make good on his promise. He showered and dressed in the minimal clothing he had left over at Blaine’s and started over to the hospital where he’d last left his brothers. Every floor had at least one Serpent skulking around, keeping an eye on things in case any of the fuckheads from yesterday decided to try some shit again. It wasn’t likely given that they’d really have to make a scene to get to Franco, but it was worth sending a few snakes in. Once in Franco’s room, Dare talked Cujo out for a few so they could talk and the taller Serpent could clean himself up a bit. He lightly tapped Franco’s hand, not really eager to wake him, but knowing they should talk. “Hey man. It’s Dare.”
Franco wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep but he knew it was in the early hours of the morning. He had woken throughout the night many times, nightmares consuming him every time he had tried to close his eyes. When he felt someone tap his hand, he jumped, his body aching with the movement. His eyes shoot open, and through the little gap he had, he could make out a man before he heard that it was Dare. He gulped and pulled his hand backwards, Dare should be able to touch him, the man had saved him, why was he so scared. He sighed, "True to your word. Hey Dare" he breathed.
“Easy easy,” Dare’s first thought was to restrain, but given the litany of injuries he held back and just moved back a little to avoid backlash. He kept away from Franco’s hand. He could sympathize with not wanting to be touched. “Hey you’re okay...” Dare murmured, keeping his hands to the side of the hospital bed instead. “Hey Fracko. Nice to see you’re awake in person. Gotta say, you’re still better looking than me. Despite the circumstances.” It was a weak attempt at lightning the mood, but he hoped it might gain some traction. “How are you feeling? Alejandro come see you?”
Franco took a few deep breathes and watched Dares hands. He felt terrible making him keep away, especially as Cujo had held his hand all night. He tried to laugh at the joke but it sounded choked, "Fracko" he whispered, "That's a different name. I've always been better looking then you". He felt himself tense and shiver as his body woke up and the pain seemed to wake with it, "I feel like shit. He came last night but I freaked out. He had a syringe. Pain relief or something but I couldn't let him near me". His hand was twitching on the bed, why had refused the help?
Dare frowned lightly, leaning on the guardrail of the bed. He wanted to comfort, that was part of his compulsive need to fix everything. But he needed to leave that part to Cujo. “I know you’re worried about the syringes my man, and if it was a rando I could get it. But Alejandro is trustworthy. If I remember, in order to make it go in faster, it goes in the IV.” He gestured to the needle in Franco’s hand. “And morphine is hella nice. Think maybe you can give it another try? I don’t want you to be in so much pain even opening your eyes hurts.”
Franco shook his head, "Its not. I don't know him. He might be a doctor but, Dare I can't" he forced out, fighing back tears, he didn't need everyone to see him cry. He gulped, "They said that it was nice, that I would just sleep but it didn't. I can't. I don't want to sleep. I'm scared of what happens if I close my eyes". He felt weak, felt pathetic... Dare was his leader,  "I gotta be brave and strong, like a real serpent would".
“Hey hey hey,” Dare leaned back over a little more. “Shh. Listen to me. Even brave and strong Serpents have their moments of weakness. And you have gone through a lot of shit. This isn’t just ‘Franco got a boo boo’. These aren’t baby injuries. You endured six days of hell and lived to tell the tale. I don’t know that all of us could’ve done the same. So what about that makes you think that you’re not strong? That you’re not brave?” Dare sat back down, looking into his companion’s face sternly. “I could kill every last one of them for what they did to you. But I can promise you that until you do feel safe again, you’re not gonna be alone.”
Franco gulped as he listened to what Dare said, "I don't think I could have gone much longer" he nodded, "Bravery comes from those who fight. Not those who try and run and fail all the same". He regretted every day not trying to fight again but he had been tipsy, "I was just tipsy and didn't think it was something I could win". He watched Dare sit back and shook his head, "No revenge. It'll make it worse". He looked up at the door, at Cujo stood outside, "I don't think he'd leave me if you forced him".
“It probably wasn’t. It sounds like these guys were paid professionals. I mean...who jumps someone wearing a fucking suit?” Dare shrugged slightly. “Bravery comes from those who are smart enough to know when to fight or flee. You were outnumbered. And these guys were professionals. You could’ve been killed right then and there. Honestly if you weren’t so hurt right now I’d bop you on the head for being so dense. If instead of it being you it was Julian, would you be telling him he was cowardly and didn’t try?”
Franco nodded, "I think they worked for whoever owned that casino" he spoke. He didn't really know who owned it but he knew why he was kidnapped. Franco sighed and nodded, "I think being killed in the forest would have been kinder then what they did" he admitted. He listened to him talk about Julian, "That's not fair Dare" he breathed, "Julian's different".
“No, it’s the same exact thing. J is a bit younger but he’s no different than all the things you’re calling out. He’s a Serpent. Not every one of us is going to be a Cujo. Sure...he probably would’ve went down swinging.” Dare paused briefly, gathering his thoughts. “In your position I don’t know that I would’ve fought back either. I probably would’ve tried to run instead. Outnumbered by guys in god damn suits. They could’ve had guns.” He reaches over, cautiously and gingerly brushing his hair back. “You did what you could with the time you had.”
"Julian is smaller and no offense, doesn't exactly have as much muscle as me. He would have had to run". Franco sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, when would he stop blaming himself. "I'm not even sure what they had. I know they had some rag that made me feel sleepy". He watched as Dare reached up and moved his hair. His whole body tensed but he didn't push away. He held his breath and fought through it, "Why is it so hard for you to touch me? Cujo does all the time".
“Because I’m not Cujo.” Dare explained with a shrug, bringing his hands back away. “I’m not somebody you’ve been intimate with or shared anything deeply personal with. It’s not the same kind of connection that you have with me. I’m your friend, your family, but I’m not that kind of family.” Dare grabbed a cup of ice water that was sitting next to the bed with a straw sticking out of it and brought it over, offering it, not forcing. “You gotta stop beating yourself up for this. Nobody got hurt. Whether or not we could have is irrelevant because no one did. And most importantly, we got you home. Water?”
Those 4 words hit Franco like a sack of bricks. They were true and accurate. Dare wasn't Cujo. No one was. No one could compare to how he felt about that man. He finally broke and let the tears roll down his cheek, "God, what am I putting him through? How must he be feeling?" he spoke softly. He looked at the straw and nodded, leaning forward slightly to sip the straw, "Water is good" he nodded.
Dare offered an understanding, cautious smile, making sure that Franco had his fill of water before he set the cup back aside. “He’s right outside the door. And what he’s feeling is probably relief. You’re putting him through relief that he still managed to hold your hand and see you looking at him again. And soon he’ll hear you laugh and smile and you guys can do a bunch of fucking around.” He straightened up a little, cracking his back before standing up. “How about I get him back in?”
Franco shook his head quickly, "No" he whispered. He knew he had to tell Cujo how he felt and he wasn't ready, "I'm not ready Dare" he hurried. He looked at the cup and tried to lift his arm to reach it himself but the side effects of all the drugs were how weak his limbs felt, "More water please".
“Alright, I can stay longer.” Dare sat back down and gathered the cup, bringing it back over to Franco’s lips with the straw. “Seriously don’t worry about it, okay? I know it’s going to take you some time to get through this and that’s okay too. But I want you to stop focusing on where you think you failed.” He waited until Franco had his fill before putting the cup aside again. “I’m your leader, right? You’re not going anywhere. Whether or not you think you were cowardly, it’s my call on who gets to be a Serpent. You’re not going anywhere, my brother. You got me?”
Franco took the water gratefully and he nodded at Dare's words, "Yeah, it's gunna take a while. My injuries could take up to eight weeks too heal. I'm hoping to be out of here by the end of the week" he stated. He hated hospitals, "Who owned the casino?" he asked. The question was burning at him, he wanted answers, "Thanks Dare. I like being a serpent. It's the only family I have".
“That’s why you’re not gonna be going on any missions either. You’re going to stay with someone at all times. A Serpent. And you’re going to make sure you relax and take care of yourself.” Dare frowned a bit. “The Clarington family. And before you start getting your own revenge boner, Hunter is the one who figured out where you where and helped us save your life. Clarington Senior is the one responsible.”
Franco nodded, "I'm not ready for missons" he agreed. He sighed, "When I come home, I'm going to stay with Cujo. He said I could and I don't know. I think I'm in love with him Dare". The words escaped before he could stop them and he cursed himself for it. He raised an eyebrow though, "Claringtons? Hunter helped? Are they in jail?"
Dare hardly hesitated at the confession, flashing a light smirk. “I think you’re the last person to figure that out. Maybe second to last because I think Gigantor out there doesn’t realize it either. Maybe that’s something you two need to explore together, yeah?” He gestured to the applesauce left aside too. “You wanna try to eat a little? As far as the Clarington’s...nothing right now. You know how shitty this police force is. They didn’t even officially arrest Adrien Smythe after we found that recording.”
Franco's jaw dropped slightly, "You knew?" he asked hesitantly. How had everyone known before him, "Cujo doesn't know, of course he doesn't know. He'd probably never look at me again. Run a mile or something". Franco looked at the apple sauce and sighed, "I want to eat but I can wait till Cujo comes back, if you want?". The idea of needing help with the smallest things until the drugs wore off embarrassed him. He nodded, "I should have known the answer to that question. He'll get away with it won't he?"
“Of course I knew. The way you two blockheads are around each other? I’d have to be blind.” Dare chuckled. “And I doubt he’d run a mile. It’s not like you guys don’t already fuck. But I’ll let you sort that one out yourself. So, your secret’s safe with me.” He considered for a moment, silent in his thoughts. “After we found you the other day I...looked up your sister. Isabella, right? She’s cute.” He shrugged. “I told her you were hurt. She’d...liked to hear from you. Gave me her new cell phone number.”
Franco gave the tiniest laugh, "Cujo isn't a relationship kind of guy but I will tell him. No matter how much it hurts". He gulped and nodded, "Thank you. Our secret until I've said all that needs saying". Franco's eyes widened and he felt like he couldn't breathe, "Isabella" he breathed, "You... you got her to contact you? My Izzy" he asked, confusion and emotions lacing every word, "You have her number? Dare" and he started to cry again, "Keep it. Until I'm home. Please".
“Hey hey hey what did I say about getting worked up?” Dare demanded, though his tone didn’t raise, not wanting to escalate the situation. “Breathe. You’re gonna make it hard to breathe if you cry with those fucked up ribs.” He tried to soothe the situation as best as possible before Cujo fucking kicked down the door and threw him out. “Yeah. I got in touch. She...she’s worried about you. Wants to talk to you when you’re feeling up to it. After she heard you were in the hospital it opened her up a bit. Relax.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down when you contacted my sister who I tried to contact for years Darius” Franco said, though it was getting harder to breathe. “I don’t care about my ribs, you have. A number for my freaking sister. I’ve been dying to speak to her for 3 fucking years”. He tried to control his breathing, his hand searching for something to hold as he did, “Fuck Darius”
“I’m telling you to calm down because if you still wanna talk, you can’t have your lungs collapsing. And Cujo will actually throw me out of here if that happens. So breathe. C’mon, dude.” He sat up and gripped Franco’s struggling hand. “Try and take a slow, deep breath for me, or I’m gonna have to leave.”
Franco gripped Dares hand as hard as he could. It wasn’t hard at all but it made him feel something. He took deep breathes in and out, the pain in his ribs making him squeeze his eyes shut. He hated this. He hated being sick and he hated being injured. His lungs were already fucked from the broken ribs and Dare was right, he didn’t need to make it worse, “Dare, I can’t thank you enough for it” he started, “But I can’t have that number until I’m better. It will kill me hearing her voice like this”.
“You can thank me by getting better.” Dare reassured, holding the hand as tightly as he dared so he wouldn’t send Franco spiraling negatively downwards. “Slow down. Good.” He eyeballed the stupid monitors to make sure they didn’t go ballistic as Franco’s oxygen levels evened out. “I’ll hold onto it until you’re home, no worries there. She didn’t set a time stamp for how long you had. Just that she wants to talk to you too. We didn’t really chat. But...yeah. So now you have to get better.”
Franco nodded at Dare, feeling safe with his hand being held, “I’m gunna get better” he whispered, “I’m gunna get through this”. He paused as his breathing finally came back under his control. He opened his eyes and looked back at Dares face, “I want to come home” he spoke, knowing home was the place he’d be able to try and live again, “Can you get me home?”
“In a few days, I promise my man. But we gotta get you breathing better before we move you around. You were...very, very close to dying. That’s why we couldn’t just have Max or Alejandro looking you over. And you gotta try and accept some pain meds, or this healing process is gonna be a bitch. We might be able to get you pills instead of the injections, but it’s not like you can swallow much stuff. So...try and reconsider, okay? Then when you get home, I’ll get you the best weed we got.”
Franco nodded, “When I come home, can Max look after me medically? Ale made me take some tablets last night, some antibiotic thing but he scared me half to death”. He felt bad, Ale was only trying to help but he was terrified of the man after seeing the syringe. The words about dying rang in his head, maybe he’d used his extra life and he got really lucky, “How bad was it when you found me?” He asked. He hadn’t even seen himself in a mirror yet, he didn’t know how bad it all looked. He nodded and sighed, “Dare, I don’t know what drugs they gave me... but I think it was stronger then weed”.
“I’m sure I can work something out with her. I’ll hit her up on my way out and see if she can help with your care. It’s okay. Seriously.” He sighed, unable to comfort further than just holding Franco’s hand in a grip that just said I’ve got you. “It was bad. Enough that we only thought about bringing you here. That’s...all we can really say about it my man. Antibiotics are probably gonna be necessary with how many open wounds you had. Can’t have you keeling over from just an infection after you survived all this. And I say weed just to help you relax. But no ones gonna make you take anything.” He paused. “Besides the antibiotics.”
Franco tried to smile, “Max is nice. I’m not a big fan of Ale. But if you say it’s safe for me to take these things then I’ll take them”. He trusted Dare with his life, especially now. He listened to what a Dare said, “I’m gunna get Cujo to show me my reflection at some point. If it’s as bad as it feels, then I must look like shit”. He looked up at the door and smiled sadly, “He’s going to be going crazy out there”.
“Hey even at your worst? Better looking than me. I’m kinda pissed. How can this even be?” He glanced at the door too and patted Franco’s hand affectionately. “Let me get Cujo back in here, yeah? Maybe you can get some more sleep then too.”
Franco gave a half smile and nodded, “Well it’s not hard to be better looking then you” he tried to joke, but his voice still sounded numb. He nodded once again, “It’s easier to sleep when Cujo is here. I feel safe”.
“Then we’re gonna swap places. I’m gonna bounce and you,” He leaned over the guard rail to very lightly bop Franco’s nose. “Are going to relax and get better so we can get you discharged and home again. So if I hear that you’re still shitting on yourself or fighting getting better, I’ll be back to lecture you until your ears fall off. Got it?” He moved away from the bed and murmured to Cujo it was time to swap. He held the door open and gave Franco a half-wave. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”
Franco gave a little sigh of breath as Dare bopped him in the nose and he nodded, “I owe you Dare” he breathed, as Cujo came into the room. He wiggled his fingers to say goodbye and sighed, “He’s a good man” he said into the room.
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ffsdimitri · 6 years
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the interrogation ; task #2
tw; mentions of abuse & kidnapping
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how fucked was this? dimitri, after being held hostage for a year, after being forced to work against his own will, now he had to endure a police investigation. it wasn’t fair. sure, they had no idea what he’d been through but god, couldn’t they just skip past this? dimitri didn’t even know desmond or anything to do with what happened. he’d been a bit preoccupied fighting his own battles. 
“Please, take a seat. The station thanks you in advance for your cooperation and honesty today. The more information you give us today, the faster you’ll be out that door. Understood?”
dimitri obliged, knowing that his cooperation meant freedom. he gave the detective a nod before settling into the seat, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. 
“Are you aware of the events that occurred on February 19th, 2017? More specifically, the attempted murder of Desmond Delaney?”
definitely not. again, dimitri had been far too preoccupied with his own battles. so, he lied. it was easier that way. “heard about it on the news.”
“Had you ever met or heard of Mr. Delaney prior to the incident?”
dimitri gave the detective a shake of his head. “no.” he hadn’t. maybe he’d seen him once before, after all, treeville was small, but seeing his face once or twice would contribute to nothing. nothing at all. 
“Where were you on the night of February 19th, 2017? What were you doing and especially, who were you with? Please recall as much as you can remember, even the smallest bits of information will prove to be helpful.”
dimitri cleared his throat, pushing himself up to sit slightly straighter. here it came. the g rated version of what really happened. “i left for business that night. i’m a computer engineer, it’s what i do here at the station. i left around 10 P.M. that night for stockdon. my employer sent someone to pick me up. i worked there for a year until my contract was it.” short and sweet. they didn’t need to know anything beyond that. 
“Allow me to make it clear that deception to law enforcement will not be tolerated. That being said, is there anything you’d like to add or perhaps clarify? This will be your only chance.”
dimitri nodded slowly in understanding, honestly ready to walk out of this damn room and return to his desk. this was a waste of time. he had bigger things to deal with, not this. he felt sorry for desmond, but he’d been dealing with his own mess. he had nothing to hide in this instance. in any instance, really. “that’s it.”
“–Alright. We’ll be following up on the information provided today for legitimacy. We’ll be in touch. Thank you for your time. You’re free to go.”
dimitri gave the man a nod before he rose to his feet. he was out of that door just as soon as he’d walked in. dimitri was surprised he’d managed to keep his emotions in check, since that had been a struggle since he’d returned to treeville maybe it was because he simply didn’t care for this whole ordeal. his problems were far bigger than the scope of this. he proceeded back towards his desk, huffing gently as he collapsed back against his seat. he needed to get out of this town.
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abby-studies-art · 6 years
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Hello everyone!
As promised before, I will be posting an exhibition review below for the Montreal Museum of Fine Art’s Exhibition “Once Upon a Time… The Western”. This is a part of my final exam, however before you are thrown headfirst into the art world, I thought I would talk about what an exhibition review is and how to conduct one as an artist.
An exhibition review is much like a movie review, and as an artist or art student, you will right several over the course of your academic career. They discuss the themes and motives of the exhibition and the artworks featured, as well as the use of space and curation technique: what is the art like? How is it displayed?
Before you go:
Pick an exhibition, in most cases for your courses you will be required to pick one you can attend in real life, and I personally prefer those. If you are going to discuss a space, you should be able to go stand in it for best results.
Read some other exhibition reviews! The best part of an exhibition review is that it is about your feelings and your experience of the gallery, and shows through in other writings. You can also get a good sense of what kinds of things to talk about although I will try to help you there.
BRING A NOTEBOOK AND PENCIL! Seriously. You will not remember everything you need if you don’t write it down, and most galleries won't allow you to use pens near the art, to prevent potential vandalism.
With that being said…… WRITE THINGS DOWN! If you like a piece, or the way it’s displayed, or something about the gallery, make note of that! Your reactions, your thoughts, those are important things to have when you want to begin writing. You should also feel free (unless the museum or gallery forbids it) to take pictures of the works that particularly stick out to you, as well as the artist's description. You can also take pictures of the gallery space to help you remember what you saw, or if you are a drawing person, you can make sketches of the space and the works.
While you are there:
If the gallery has a guidebook or a pamphlet for the exhibition, take one! It will be a good reference for later and may provide information like the featured artist list and the names of the curators.
READ THE EXHIBITION DESCRIPTION. This will describe the goal or theme of the exhibition in the curator’s own words, and it is often up on the wall.
Take your time. Try to take in the exhibition as a whole. As you walk through the space, ask yourself some questions: what does the gallery space make you feel or remind you of? Can you relate it to the theme of the exhibition? How does the artwork shown relate to the theme? Is there any art that you don’t feel fits the theme? Would you arrange it differently? Who is making the art, does it all come from one group? Write down your answers because that is basically an exhibition review.
After your visit, while writing:
Talk to other visitors! Especially if you went with a class or a group for a school assignment. This will help you understand your own ideas, and hear what others thought. They may have different perspectives that you can use to inform your own writing, even if you do not agree.
Read exhibition reviews written by others! If you don't have access to other gallery visitors, then the internet can be a great resource, as many writers will post there. There are many art journals that operate online and they are worth checking out, I promise.
Visit the Museum website! There may be a full list of works shown for the whole show which can help refresh your memory.
While writing: don't be afraid to be honest! I have written many reviews about exhibitions I enjoyed, and I have written just as many about ones I did not. Share your opinion, but be sure to tell people why: if you didn't like the art, why? If you loved the use of space, why?
Language When Writing
We have arrived at the other aspect of the project, which involves confronting some frustrating situations and circumstances. If you are writing this for submission to a university, you will be required to write using some pretty stuffy and inaccessible language. This kind of “Formal” writing will often be required for a good grade.
However, this kind of voice used in academics can leave a lot of people out of the conversation. And in my opinion, art should not be exclusive, because are is universal. Everyone needs to be welcome in the conversation.
Because of this, I have written the following exhibition review using much more common language, in the interest of including everyone who comes across it on the internet. Hopefully, that will also make it easier for you to see how the writing is structured and give you some ideas on how to write this kind of review.
And if you have a thought or comment or if you have seen this show as well and want to talk about it, instead of sending me an ask, leave a comment! If someone has left a comment or question below and you feel like you have something to add or the answer, please feel free to respond! My goal is to foster discussion that welcomes everyone.
With that in mind, please be respectful of others and their opinions. You are allowed to disagree, but please keep it civil. Violence or inappropriate comments will be reported and blocked because this is meant as a positive platform for discussion.
The exhibition review is under the cut! Thank you so much for reading!
The exhibition, “Once Upon a Time… The Western” calls itself an “in-depth, interdisciplinary look at western genres”. It boasts multimedia displays, complex discussions of history, and a massive exhibition space made up of a maze of rooms and hallways. They use this space to discuss the romantic stereotypes that developed in the artistic representations of the west, and they’re  continued effect today. The show is co-curated by Mary-Dailey Desmarais and Thomas Brent Smith, curator of modern art at the MMFA and Director of the Petrie Institute for Western American Art respectively.
The massive space is split up into a maze-like array of rooms, but it not hard to navigate. Each one has one entrance and one exit, meaning that even if you didn’t spend $7.00 on the audio guide, your tour of the exhibition will still have some structure. They move through chronologically, organized very carefully into parts, so it really is quite easy to guide yourself through and gain a good understanding of the themes the exhibition aims to discuss.
The first few rooms, following the Hollywood thread, are organized into “The Set” which discusses the landscape of the west, which served to inspire the artists, “The Cast” which covers the tropes and stereotypes of the mounties, cowboys, vagrants and native americans that would all be manipulated and romanticized, “ The Real Characters” which serves to showcase the real-life celebrities of the west, like Buffalo Bill and Billy the Kid, and “The Drama” discussing the so called “common” events that litter the plotlines of the hollywood western: kidnapping, train hijacking, robbery, battles, and runaway stage couches. While the first rooms do well to represent different media and art styles, they also address both side of the western story: that of the fictionalized settlers, and that of the displaced and abused indigenous people.
On the settler side of things, the first few rooms discuss the power of art, especially photography and painting. Both of these mediums presented a visual for the settlers arriving on the continent and greatly contributed to inspiring the writers and directors of Hollywood. One of these paintings, Thomas Moran’s The Mirage (1879, oil on canvas), is a perfect example of this amazing scenery: sweeping valleys and towering mountains dwarf the riding party that cross the scene near the bottom of the canvas. This goes on into an exploration of the heroes and antiheroes that shone on screen, in front of these backdrops. The Cowboys, vagrants, mounties, sheriffs, some of whom are based on real outlaws, going about their lives thwarting the kidnappings, preventing (and orchestrating) bank robberies, getting into bar fights, and living free in the open air, as shown in Charles Marion Russell’s Free Trapper (1911, oil on canvas).
The story told of the roles of the indigenous people is much more traumatic and horrifying to consider. Pushed out of their homes and lands for the sake of white colonial settlers, and massacred when they resisted, the remaining indigenous people were then further mistreated in art and film. The men became villains: holding up trains and threatening passenger, kidnapping and holding hostage “innocent” settlers, and stealing women from their husbands, as shown in The Captive by Eanger Irving Course (1891, oil on canvas). The indigenous women were romanticised and sexualized and abused. This villainization and sexualization would continue up to the present day.
The “Drama” room is also the beginning of the second and third themes of the exhibition: the different varieties of westerns in Hollywood, and the effect of various world events on the genre, and modern indigenous responses to the representations of their ancestors, and the lasting impression those representations left on North America. The “Drama” room gives way to a series of smaller rooms, which discuss two major directors (complete with dramatic, shadow lettered names) John Ford and Sergio Leon. Ford was a famed director, and his 140 films were inspired directly by the 19th-century painters explored in the first few rooms. His film, Stagecoach (1939, film),  Leon came after the second world war, participating in the more international sect of western films, including the “Spaghetti Western” Sergio Leon's films came at the end of the western genre as it had been known up until that point, and his characters were tropes of themselves. Their exhibition rooms include movie release posters, massive timelines detailing their filmographies, and on the right sides of both, a screening of clips from their films for visitors to sample.
Separating the two men’s rooms is a room that discusses the effect of the end of the second world war had on the western genre. Heros became anti-heroes; brooding and outlaws, living isolated on the fringe of society. This isolation was meant to relate to the men who were returning home from the war, who themselves also felt isolated, and of course the constant threat of an atomic bomb.
Moving from these viewing rooms, we approach one of the final rooms of the exhibition. This room talks about the next age of the western after the post-war western: the western genre’s interaction with the counterculture of the 1960’s in response to the Vietnam war. The cowboy character was played with especially, in their gender and sexuality. Andy Warhol’s film, Lonesome Cowboys (1968, film), played with this heavily in order to dramatize homosexuality in Hollywood. And finally, the indigenous were shown as the victims of a violent colonial attack, much like the citizens of Vietnam were casualties of the war.
The other end of this next-to-last room, and continued into the last room, we see modern era indigenous artists responding to these representations of their ancestors. Here the multimedia aspect of the art truly shines, especially in Llyn Foulkes’ the Last Outpost (1983, mixed media) and a number of other indigenous artists, including Wendy Red Star and Gail Trembloy.
The very last room lead into a sort of entrance to the gift shop, which I referred to as the “bonus room”. It had a few seats and was showing clips of modern westerns, including Django: Unchained (Quentin Tarantino, film, 2012) and True Grit (Ethan and John Coen, film, 2010). I felt as though more could have been done with this room, as the clips were hard to follow if you were not familiar with the films (I was not) and so it was hard to relate what were shown on screen to the rest of the exhibition. This room did lead into the gift shop, which had a few large cabinets of indigenous art for sale, providing visitors with the opportunity to support real indigenous artists. Among the handmade works was a few true treasures: a cast of Miss Chief’s praying hands by Kenneth Monkland, edition two of only ten made.
Overall, the exhibition met the expectations it set at the entrance. The decision to lay everything out chronologically made it seem much more like a story and recalled the films that it was aimed at critiquing. Some of the lighting was dark in some of the rooms, especially those with projections of films, which made it harder to read the information in some cases, but this was a minor issue that did not greatly affect the impact of the works being shown.
The show also aimed to explore the mistreatment of indigenous people during colonization and continuing today. While I was glad to see this aspect of the western explored at all and I was encouraged to see modern indigenous artists benefiting from the exhibition and sale of works, it should be noted that as someone who benefits from colonialism, I cannot accurately form an opinion on the representation in the exhibition.
The exhibition will be showing until the fourth of February in 2018 and is worth visiting for its interesting and depth look at the western genre and all its implications.
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graysonpuzzle · 6 years
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Ghost
Soooo this is chapter two! This is something that I wrote a long time ago and am publishing on here because why not. After the next few chapters it will be me actually writing it as I put it on here. Warnings: language, violence. I would love feedback!
The Puzzle
CHAPTER TWO
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December 19th, 2006
“What can I get for ya hon?” A female bartender asks me.
“A beer please,” I reply with a faint smile.
She sets a bottle right in front of me. “Alright, here ya go, let me know if you want anything else,” she says with the signature ‘I have to smile at you’ smile.
“Thank you.” I came to Manning a month ago. I just finished a hunt in Oregon and decided to take a break. I’ve been having panic attacks a lot more lately, which are very annoying. On top of that, I barely sleep. I want to, but it’s like something in my head is stopping me every single time.
The cabin is close enough to the bar to walk. I walk up to the front door and through my shivering, find my keys and let myself in. I take off my layers and throw myself onto the couch. I grab the blanket I left on the arm of the couch and put it over myself. Maybe tonight I will actually sleep for more than 3 hours for a change.
I wake up with a start and my eyes dart to the clock on the wall. 4:22 am, wow, a whole 5 hours. I stretch my legs and let my toes touch the other side of the couch. That’s when
I hear a sound…a footstep. My instincts kick in and I jolt to my feet. I creep to the other side of the room to grab my knife from the side table. I go to the hallway and the first door is open. I don’t remember if I left it open or not; I check in really fast and it’s empty. I let out a small breath of relief right before two arms wrap around me like a snake.
I quickly throw an elbow into my attacker and he stumbles back, letting me go. I turn to face him and lift my knife, ready to fight.
“Who the hell are you?!” I demand.
“Gordon,” He replied simply, well why the hell is Gordon here?
“Ok, Gordon, why are you attacking me?” I ask, my eyes watching his every move.
“Nothing personal, just some business,” he states.
“Business!” I spit, “What the hell do I have to do with your business?!”
“It will make sense after you help me.”
“No way am I helping someone who broke into my house and attacked me!”
“You are just making things so much more difficult,” he says as if I’m a child he’s disappointed in.
“What is wrong with y-” I start but he shoots at me, barely missing. I stand there in shock, which is a mistake because he knocks the knife right out of my hand.
I run at him and put both hands on his shoulders and try to drive him into something. I fail though, because he is stronger than me. In my attempt, he headbutts me and I see stars instantly. I take a few steps back to gain my sight but he charges me and we go flying into the small kitchen. He then throws me into the kitchen table; it almost breaks on the impact.
“You son of a bitch,” I say, barely audible. If he wants a fight, then I’ll give him a fight. I run straight at him before he can even flinch and I grab his head with both hands then bring his nose directly to me knee.
Blood gets all over my jeans and I can feel the warmth of it seep through the material. I step back to recover.
“You’re definitely Daniel’s granddaughter,” He says, holding his hand to his bloody nose. How the hell does he know my grandfather? Is Gordon a hunter too? It doesn’t matter, he started this and I need to finish it.
“If you’re so sure then why attack me if you know I was trained by one of the best?” I taunt and run at him again, but this time he catches me by the shoulders and slides his hands up to my neck. He grips my neck tighter and throws me against the wall, still grasping tightly.
“I have my reasons.”
“Your reasons suck,“ I choke out and kick him right in the jewels. He lets go of my neck and bends down a bit, giving me the perfect opportunity to punch him in the head. He bends farther down; at first I think he’s giving up but I see him pull a knife from his boot.
“Really? I was expecting a clean fight,” I say.
“Gotta do what ya gotta do,” he says and lunges at me with the knife. I scream in pain and look down at my left leg. He stabbed my right in the thigh.
I touch the wound with my hand and when I bring it up, it’s doused in blood. He then grabs my arms and twists them behind my back and pushes me towards the table. I try to kick at him, but my leg is in so much pain that I can’t stop tripping over my feet. He then puts a hand on the back of my head and I know exactly what he’s going to do next. He slams my head into the table and everything goes black.
I wake up with my limbs tied to a chair and a rag in my mouth. It looks like I’m in a motel room.
“Look who finally woke up!” Gordon chimes and I just glare at him, hoping my eyes alone send the right message. “Maybe when all this is over we can hunt together, you’re one hell of a fighter!”
Why don’t we torture children and kill puppies too?
“Maybe not,” he answers himself, “Well, I have to make a call.” He gets out his phone and puts it to his ear. I stay quiet to try and hear who’s calling.
“Hey there, Dean. Listen, I found your friend and I thought you might want to see her…what’s her name? Grayson! You meet me at the coordinates I send you, or she and I will have a little fun. Well if you don’t believe me, here she is” He pulls the rag out of my mouth.
He pinches the wound he stabbed in my leg earlier. I let out a shriek and grind my teeth. “Hear that? I suggest you come as fast as you can.”
“You’re psychotic!” I shout.
“No, I’m a hunter who’s about to do the world a favor.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sam Winchester is a monster, and if he isn’t stopped, well, it won’t be pretty.”
“Sam is a hunter! Why on earth would you want to kill him?!”
“He’s not like us…he can kill people.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty different than the average hunter, and I’m pretty sure you are capable of killing people, so how about I kill you?”
“I’m human,” he says, his voice stern and serious.
“So you think Sam is some kind of monster?” I ask
“I know he is,” he states as he glides over to the window, pulling the curtain back.
“You hear that?” He asks, referring to the sound of Dean’s car. He comes over to me and shoves the rag back in my mouth through my fighting.
Gordon positions himself behind the door. It slams open and Dean bursts through with Sam close behind. Gordon attacks Dean while Sam runs over to me. He undoes the ropes around my hands and goes to help Dean. I untie my legs and take off the gag. I stand up, leg still hurting, and walk to where Sam and Dean have Gordon pressed into the wall. I punch Gordon with a wide swing.
“Try anything like that again, you son of a bitch and I will kill you,” I threaten.
“What would your grandpa say about that?” He asks, obviously trying to make me furious.
I get right into his face and speak through my teeth, “first of all, he’s not here, second, if he was he would want me to kick your ass and third, if you so much as come into the same state as me, I will not hesitate to shoot you, do you understand?” I send another blow to his head. It doesn’t feel like enough so I do it again, then a third, fourth. I form another fist, ready to hit him again, but one of the boys grabs me and carries me away from him.
“Let go, let go of me! Put me down!” I yell, kicking my legs, ignoring the stab wound again. Sam sets me on the motel bed and I try to get up, but he pushes me to sit down by my shoulders. I lift my hands to my face, resting my elbows on my knees.
“Can we just leave?” I ask through my hands. I can feel myself on the verge of a breakdown. The me from two months ago would hate all the freaking out I do now.
“Dust in the wind,all they are is dust in the wind.
Just a drop of water in an endless sea.
All we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see”
Dean is driving, Sam is sleeping the passenger seat while I sit in the back, keeping my leg propped on the seat. I stare out the window and the volume of the Kansas song goes down.
“Alright, what’s up with you?” Dean asks.
“Nothing.”
“Last time we saw you, you took out a whole vampire nest and now you’re letting Gordon get the best of you?” he asks, I’m a little offended, but at least he’s being honest I guess.
“Maybe my only living family died since then and I haven’t been hunting as much because of the…” I trail off, not wanting to tell him. Something in my mind clicks.
“Why did he go after me?” I ask.
“Gordons just crazy,” he states and I notice his grasp on the steering wheel gets tighter.
“Bullshit,” I counter.
“Look, can we wait until we stop somewhere to talk about this?”
“Gordon said he attacked me for business, he said a bunch of crap about killing Sam,” I tell him.
“Look we barely know you, we have no idea why he would go after you and especially no idea what he meant about Sam,” he is lying, I can tell from his body language.
“You’re such an asshole.”
“Why? Because my brother and me saved you?” He argues. Does he really think I owe him for getting me kidnapped?
“Don’t you dare act like I need to be so grateful, you got me into that mess and you are going to tell me the truth. Both of you.” I cross my arms and look out the window. He lets out an exasperated breath and focuses on the road. I don’t know how, but I will make them tell me.
After a few more hours of driving we reach a little saloon with ‘The Roadhouse’ on the top.
“Alright Sunshine, this is the roadhouse, a safe place for hunters I guess.” Dean says before reaching over and shaking Sam awake. We walk into the roadhouse, Dean leading while Sam and I are side by side behind him.
“Hey boys!” A woman shouts at them.
“Hey Ellen” They shout back in sync and walk towards her as a follow behind.
She looks me up and down, “Who’s this?”
“This is Gryson, Daniel Elkins’ granddaughter.” Sam answers for me. She looks at me again and stares for what feels like the longest seconds of my life.
“Hello,” I say awkwardly.
“You look just like your parents,” she states, “mother’s hair, daddy’s eyes.”
“You knew them?” I ask, I don’t remember much about them, so this excites me.
“Of course! Ryan and Elizabeth were great, came by here a lot between hunts,” she explains. Hearing about the makes my eyes water. I’ve never heard anything about them except when grandpa would tell me about how they faced certain monsters. I guess everyone notices my eyes and Ellen decides to change the topic.
“So boys, whats up?” Ellen asks them.
“Wondering if you have anything for us, actually,” Sam replies and a small blonde girl walks around the bar and eyes the boys. Maybe she’s one of their girlfriends or something.
“Hey guys,” she says.
“Hey Jo,” Dean greets her.
“You should give them that haunting case,” She tells Ellen.
“Can we see it?” Sam asks and Ellen puts a folder between the two of them. While they look at it, I spin my chair and take a look around. There’s a lot of people here and based on what Dean told me, they’re all hunters.
I get a tap on my shoulder, it’s the blonde, Jo, offering me a beer. “You look like you could use this,” she says, setting it in front of me.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, so what are you doing with these two?” she asks, nudging her head towards Sam and Dean.
“I honestly don’t know,” I say and take a big gulp of beer.
“So what’s it like?” She asks, and I have no idea what she’s referring to.
“What’s what like?”
“Hunting.”
“I haven’t been doing very much of that lately,” I say honestly, looking into my beer because I start to feel a little embarrassed.
“Did these two get you into trouble or something?” She attempts to joke, but I don’t laugh.
“Just got a bit off track…Where’s the bathroom?” I ask, trying to end the conversation.
“That way,” she answers and points across the room. I get up and walk past a lot of hunters, most of them men except for maybe 3 girls total.
I walk past a table of guys who look only a few years older than me. I try to ignore their annoying laughter and keep my eyes forward. I get past their table and my ass immediately stings. I turn around stiffly but quickly and stare at them with rage heating in my cheeks.
“Which one of you drunk bastards smacked my ass?” I fume and they all start losing themselves in fits of laughter. One of them raises his hands up, admitting he is guilty. I grab him by the collar and bring his face close to mine, I can smell the alcohol in his breath.
“What are you gonna do baby?” He asks and smiles sarcastically.
“Well first, I’m gonna take you out to your car,” I purr, “then, we’re going to go where nobody s around,” he starts breathing heavy like a pervert, “and I’m going to cut off the hand you touched me with, using the biggest machete I own,” I finish and his eyes go wide.
I let him go and turn to walk away, but once again, someone touches my ass. I whip around and this time it’s a different guy. He smiles at me and I grab him by the wrist then fold it between my arm and I hear it crack.
“OW!” He yells, “SHE BROKE MY WRIST!”
“I told your friend here not to touch me, and then you go and touch me. Seriously dude,” I say and the whole saloon is looking over at me. I look at the group of guys again, “In case you were wondering, I can kill every single one of you with my bare hands, so keep yours to yourselves.”
I look and see Sam, Dean, Ellen and Jo look shocked but amused. I finally get to go to the bathroom and sit back at the bar.
“So do you wanna help us with a hunt, get some practice?” Sam asks, waving the folder around.
“I don’t need practice.”
“You said you haven’t been hunting as often, and you got taken out by Gordon, and he’s a lousy compared to you,” he teases, a small grin forming on his face.
“You weren’t there to see the fight, I was winning until he cheated and stabbed me,” I say pointing my my newly bandaged wound.
“Either way I think you should come with us,” he persists.
“You think I can’t handle hunting by myself?”
“Maybe,” he says and sips his drink, not breaking our eye contact. A smile creeps on my face.
“Fine, I’ll go, but after this you two need to take me back to Manning…Where is Dean anyways?”
Sam turns around in his chair to look at Dean flirting up one of the girl hunters. I raise my eyebrows and laugh. “No offense, but your brother is a piece of work,” I joke and he laughs along with me.
“A haunted school?” I ask from the backseat, my arms resting on the front seat so I am at the same level as them.
“Yep,” Sam replies from the passenger seat. We reach the small town and just by looking I can see it’s a close knit community. Everyone stops to say hi or wave at each other. I keep looking and outside a coffee shop a woman stares at us, but it feels like she’s looking directly at me. We get to the motel and start the usual routine: check into rooms, and start researching.
Sam and Dean are hunched over a computer looking up old newspaper articles about deaths meanwhile, I’m pacing back and forth in the history section reading up on the high school. I hear a shuffle on the other side of the giant shelf and turn, I shrug and continue reading the book. I make another lap at the end of the bookcase and bump into someone on accident.
“Sorry,” I say before looking up.
“Must be a good book,” a woman’s voice says.
“Yeah this town’s history is very interesting,” I say without looking up again. She walks away and I look up just in time to catch her face. It’s the woman who stared when we first got to town. I lose the book and head over to Sam and Dean.
“Got anything?” I ask, but I’m still curious about that woman.
“Well the first death at the high school was on December 20th, a kid named Roger Colson,” Sam says.
“And that day every year someone dies,” Dean adds, “did you find anything?”
“Well, every year the victim dies when there’s no school, so it’s always either teachers staying after, kids with detention, sports teams at practice, never during actual school,” I tell them.
“Well, we only have a day, so let’s get a plan and then we can stop whatever this thing is,” Dean says and starts putting on his jacket to leave.
We wait until dark to get into the school and look around. We walk around together, looking thoroughly through everything.
“So if today’s the 20th, then where the hell is this thing?” Dean asks, obviously annoyed that we haven’t found anything yet.
Something clicks. How did we not catch it before? “Guys, a better question is, where is the dead body?” I ask.
“Were there any non-school related murders, like strangers that walked on campus or something?” Dean asks me and Sam.
“Not that I found,” Sam replies and looks back at me.
“I didn’t see anything, you guys were looking up the death records,” I point out.
“Great, so this spirit either killed already or it’s going to kill us,” Dean says.
“Lets hope for the latter so we have a better chance of even finding it,” I say.
We decide to split up, each of us takes a section of the school. Dean gets to check the second level, Sam gets the lower level and I get the extras; auditorium, gym, music room, etc. because they all have their own little branches away from the normal classrooms.
I check the music room first; it boring, smells funny and there’s no murderous ghost. Next I walk to the auditorium. I walk through the double doors and it’s pitch black except from a small light on the stage. I walk to it and hop up onto the stage.
“Still haven’t found that ghost huh?” A woman says, I turn to look behind the curtains and the woman from the library is walking towards me.
“Who are you?” I ask her, and put my hand on my knife that’s trapped to my thigh.
“Your worst nightmare,” she states.
I roll my eyes at her and scoff, “Yeah sure you are.”
“Maybe I’m not your worst fear, but I’m the reason you’re going to be dead in a few months,” she says teasingly and crosses her arms, “my name is Mindy.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Now I’m confused.
“You’re a hunter. You kill things that go bump in the night; I get it, it’s your job. But my job is to hunt the hunters.”
“You’re psychotic,” I spit.
“No, but I am pretty evil,” She says and her eyes flick black, a demon.
“Why not just kill me now?”
“I like to play with my prey, I know it’s childish, but demons like to have fun too,” she says with a wicked grin on her face.
“I like to kill monsters, demons especially,” I retort.
“Oh, I know. I know everything about you.”
“Bullshit.”
“I know that your parents went on a hunt and never came back. You can thank me for that,” she smirks.
“There’s no way. They could’ve been killed by anything.”
“I also killed your grandmother, I was about to kill your grandfather too, but the vampires beat me to it, so now I’m moving on to you.”
“So what, are you just hunting down my family?”
“And anyone else I can get in between.”
“Well I’m the last one bitch, so might as well get it over with.”
“No…like I said earlier, demons like to have fun too,” she winks and walks away, “and by the way, your spirit friend is in the gym.”
She disappears behind the stage curtains and I make my way out of the auditorium. There’s no way she killed my family. If she did, what’s the point of just going after one family of hunters rather than multiple? I shove the thought out of my mind and walk down the long hall to reach the gym.
I walk in and it’s freezing. I get my gun ready and keep walking. I get goosebumps and I know the thing is near me. I turn around and there it is. A pale white man in a suit coming towards me. I shoot and he disappears. Who the hell was this guy? A principal or teacher? I pull out my phone and call Sam.
“Find anything?” He asks.
“Yeah, and was the first death a teacher or something?” I ask, a different spirit comes at me but I shoot and start running out of the gym; hopefully he will follow.
“It was a math teacher, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, he’s on my tail, do you know his name?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok, we just need to burn the bones.” I say and shoot at the ghost behind me.
“Where are you?”
“Leading this thing right to you,” I hang up and hopefully Sam gets Dean to burn the bones.
I keep running and shooting, but the thing keeps popping up seconds later. My thigh is burning and I can’t help but slow down. I turn a corner and slide a little so I have to grab onto the wall. When I pass classrooms, I turn my head to see if Sam is inside. There are only a few rooms left and I don’t see Sam in any of them. Almost everywhere I go a new ghost pops up, probably all the victims. It’s like they’re all after me.
I hear a gunshot behind me and stop to turn. Sam is running down the hall towards me and a dozen ghosts come charging towards us.
“GO! GO!” Sam shouts and runs towards me. I run into the nearest classroom, Sam right behind me and we shut the door. He gets salt out of his bag and starts making a circle.
“What the hell was that?” I ask out of breath.
“I don’t know, but I told Dean we could hold them off until he burnt  those bones, so we’re on our own.”
“What if he’s not even the right one? I mean there were at least 15 ghosts chasing us out there,” I say and step into the salt circle.
“Maybe he’s controlling them or something, maybe the other ones are afraid of him.”
“So do we just wait and find out?”
“I guess so, just see if they all stop when his bones are burned.”
The door bursts open and multiple spirits come into the room. Sam and I start shooting, but then wind picks up in the room; it’s like a tornado and blows away our salt circle. I run out of ammo and reach for my belt for more. Sam is busy defending himself, so a ghost takes the opportunity and touches me.
She puts both her hands on each side of my head and pain begins to seep in. I crouch to the floor and the next thing I know, I’m standing in the hallway. But it’s different, it’s crowded with students and there’s banners with the year 1978 on it.
Its like im in a dream. Or a memory. I see a girl who looks like the ghost that touched me. Next I am flashed to what looks like the principal’s office. the girl is sitting and talking to him, but it’s not the ghost I saw earlier. I’m flashed again, but this time the girl is in the bathroom, but the principle is still there. he stalks towards her and there is a knife in his hand. He murdered her. But he wasn’t a ghost, he was a living human being.
I’m flashed to another scene. its another murder, but I recognize the victim; he was murdered last year and this time the principle isn’t alive, he’s a ghost himself. The vision goes black and I’m snapped back to reality. Sam shoots the ghost and helps me up.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Its none of them, these ghosts are trying to warn us… it was an old principle,” I say and the ghosts stop and stand still, ”they’re all past victims trying to help us, the principle killed people while he was alive and continued after he died.”
Sam pulls out his phone and I know he’s calling his brother.
“Dean, we got it, its an old principle,” he stops and asks me his name, “his name is Geoffrey Jordan…we just know okay! Hurry, it’s almost midnight.”
“What now?” I ask.
“Well, I guess we just try and not get killed.”
“Well that makes sense.” I say and he rolls his eyes.
“We should get moving,” he says and he tries to push the door open. It doesn’t budge, “what the hell.”
“I think he finally came out to play.”
Since we’re locked in, we get our guns ready. the temperature drops and we can see our breaths. I get goosebumps and lookup to see that behind Sam is the principle.
“DUCK!” I shout at Sam, then shoot after he does. The ghost vanishes. Once again, Sam gets salt and makes a circle around us.
“Hopefully this will hold him off long enough for Dean to burn the bones,” Sam says as he finishes the circle.
I look around the classroom for anything useful. It looks like a chemistry room with a bunch of lab stations with sinks and glass containers. So basically, everything in the room the ghost can use to hurt us, but we can’t hurt it. The principle appears and he grins while he turns on the nearest sink. I don’t understand what he’s doing, but then I see where the water is headed: towards us to wash away the salt. I’ll admit, this spirit is pretty persistent.
Sam notices as well and has an irritated look on his face, “seriously?”
“He really wants us dead,” I say and he comes towards us and we shoot. I run out of ammo, and stop to refill while Sam stays on guard. I hear the clatter of something on the floor and look back at Sam. Mr. Principal got it from his hands. He walks closer to Sam and I finish loading my gun. I shoot and save Sam’s ass for a second time today. Then again, he and  Dean saved me from Gordon, but it’s their fault so, yeah.
Sam goes across the room to get his gun while something tugs at my ponytail and slams me to the ground. This asshole ghost recovers fast. Sam shoots and offers me a hand. I take it and he helps me off the ground.
“Thanks.”
“We need to get out of here,” he says and tries the door again.
“How is he so fast? I’ve never seen a spirit that recovers like that,” I wonder out loud.
“Lets think about that later and focus on getting away before he actually hurts us.”
There’s only one other way to get out of this room, the ceiling. It looks like the kind of ceiling with movable boards. “The ceiling,” I say and he nods, and gets on top of one of the counters then pops of the ceiling board.
He climbs up and I try to get up but it’s too high for me even on the counter. Sam reaches his arms down and pulls me up into the vent. This is such a cliche plan, crawling through the vents/ceiling in need for escape, seriously.
“So what if our little friend traps us up here to?” I ask, starting to panic, fear kicking in. I wouldn’t say I have claustrophobia, more like I have a fear of confinement or being physically stuck anywhere.
“Then we’re screwed,” he states simply, “but we just need to get a few feet and make it to the hallway…Wait, are you scared right now?”
“No,” I reply, rather aggressively.
“It’s ok if you are, I mean everyone is afraid of something, and looks like small spaces is yours.”
“Actually, i’m not afraid of small spaces, it’s actually pretty roomy up here, I just don’t like the idea of being stuck or confined somewhere that I don’t want to be,” I argue as we crawl.
“Alright, sounds reasonable,” he says and pull up another ceiling board when we’ve crawled for a bit, he looks down and nods.
He jumps from the ceiling and I hear a thud as he lands on his feet, I follow and when I hit the ground my leg almost gives because of the freaking wound Gordon gave me. We start walking down the long hall towards the exit that’s all the way at the end. The spirit appears again and comes charging at us, we both shoot, but he sweeps himself to the side and dodges both our shots. This is one freaky spirit. He keeps coming and we keep shooting, failing each time.
He finally comes close enough to knock Sam over and throw me a few feet in the opposite direction, both of our guns away from our reach. The ghost makes his way to Sam, making his choice on who he wants to kill. I get up quietly and dash over to my gun. The principle notices and turns to attack me, I slide on my good leg and get my gun. I shoot at him from the ground and I hit him. I get up and run over to Sam, picking his gun up for him on the way.
I get to him but he’s unconscious, what the hell did that ghost do to him? I reach down and check his pulse: he alive. I try to shake him awake, but he doesn’t wake up and the spirit returns. I stand up and ready my gun.
“Come on, asshole! Face me!” As soon as the words leave my mouth, he appears in front of my face and I get shoved across the hall again. I guess he decides he wants to kill me instead because he takes his hand and I feel it go through my chest. It’s not painful, but it’s not pleasant either.
“Doesn’t hurt,” I spit and he takes both hands and moves them to my head like the victim ghost did earlier. I experience a stronger pain and scream worse than earlier. this time all I see is people dying, kids, parents, teachers and more. I scream at him to stop but he doesn’t. The vision ends abruptly and I wake up short of breath to see another ghost holding him off. There’s multiple now, all the past victims are holding him away from me. I stumble to my feet and try shaking Sam again, but it doesn’t work a second time. I struggle to pick him up and put his arm over my shoulder. Hes such a big guy that I struggle to stay balanced, so I set him on the ground again and pull him by the arms down the hall. If this wasn’t so dire I’d probably be laughing, but obviously I have to worry about staying alive. I drag him as fast as I can towards the exit that’s only about 15 feet away. I look back and the good ghosts are losing, the principle overpowering them.
I try to go faster when I see there’s no other spirits holding the homicidal one back. He has a maniacal grin on his face as he charges towards us like a gust of wind.
He throws me over and I faceplant on the tile. I turn on my back to try and hold him off and just as he’s about to lunge at me, he bursts into flames. Finally, Dean found the bones. I let out a sigh of relief and rest my back on the concrete wall and reach for my nose. It is bleeding from the fall and I’m pretty sure a bruise is forming on my forehead.
“Thank you, Dean, for not letting us die!” I shout even though he’s not there and sit in silence, trying to clean up my nose with my shirt.
I hear Sam’s phone ring from his pocket and assuming its dean, I reach into his pocket and answer it.
“Sammy?” Dean asks.
“No, Grayson, he got knocked out by the son of a bitch that, if he only had 2 seconds, would have slaughtered us,” I rant.
“Why is he- forget it, I’ll be there in 5, don’t move,” He commands and hangs up the phone.
“Whatever you say.”
Dean gets here minutes later to find Sam still unconscious and me tending to my never ending nosebleed.
“How the hell did he-”
“I have no idea, the thing separated us for a minute and the next minute he was unconscious,” I say before he finishes asking his question.
“I knew I should’ve stayed, I knew you couldnt handle it,” he says looking at his brother then shifting his gaze to me.
“Yeah and maybe I could’ve found the bones before anyone got knocked out or almost died, since you could barely handle it,” I defend myself.
“You know what, it’s not my fault you’re unstable and couldn’t handle watching anyone’s back but your own.”
“Unstable? are you kidding me?”
“Last time we saw you, you took on a vampire nest without making a plan and then you freaked out and broke everything within 10 feet of you, so yeah, I would say that’s unstable.”
“Why don’t we worry about your brother instead of arguing about my infinite problems?” I fume.
“Help me get him up,” he commands and despite my anger towards him, I help and we take Sam to the car and put him in the back seat.
Dean and I don’t speak on the drive to the motel. Sam wakes up right before we pull into the parking lot. They get a shared room while I get my own thats a few doors away. I decide to take a shower before I go to bed. I get out of the steamy bathroom and throw myself on the bed, falling asleep as soon as my body hits the soft surface.
The next morning, Sam knocks at my door and I get ready to go. We pay for our rooms and get in the car. None of us speak while the music plays. Sam clears his throat and I can tell he feels awkward.
“So want to come on the next hunt with us?” he asks me.
“No.” Dean and I reply at the same time. Sam wrinkles his brows, confused.
“I’m sorry, but you’re brother is a dick and I’d rather not spend more time with him than I need to.”
“Listen Sunshine, I don’t want to hang out with you anymore than you want to hang out with me.” Dean says.
“What is wrong with you two?” Sam asks.
“Your brother thinks it’s my fault that we had a close call with that ghost last night.”
“You let him get knocked out!” Dean argues.
“Oh yeah, I remember almost dying actually so you can shove it right up your ass!”
“GUYS! Dean, the ghost separated us long enough for him to knock me out, it wasn’t her fault, and Grayson, he’s just being protective, no big deal,” Sam intervenes.
I let out a huff, cross my arms and rest against the seat. Dean turns up the radio and Sam  just stares out the window.
Hours later we pull up to the Roadhouse. I walk in ahead of the Winchesters and ask for a phone book. I open the book on the bar counter and Dean sits down beside me.
“What are you doing?”
“Running a marathon,” I reply.
“Look, I’m sorry about the crap I said,” he apologizes.
“I’m sorry I called you a dick.”
“But really, what are you doing?”
“Looking up a cab service or something,” I say before Sam joins us.
“I think I just found another hunt,” Sam states.
“Yeah, just one more hunt, sunshine!” Dean insists.
“Fine, but it better not be another ghost, I’ve had enough for now.”
“Actually, it’s a werewolf,” Sam replies.
Thanks for reading if you did! I feel like these chapters are really long, but at the same time I want certain things to be in each chapter. Maybe I should separate the chapters into parts? Idk
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nomorelonelydays · 7 years
Text
AU where Geno and the pens are part of a secret organization that time travels to maintain the flow of historic events, and on one mission, Geno is tasked to go back to the 1820s to save a man (whose great-great grandson will eventually be key to a medical breakthrough that will change history) from a freak accident involving a horse carriage gone rogue. 
Anyways, the man is super thankful and insists on treating Geno to dinner, and Geno is hesitant because he’s really not supposed to interact this much with the subject but the man won’t hear a no. So Geno gets taken to this guy’s estate and meets Sidney, the man’s youngest son, who is beautiful and intelligent and basically Geno’s exact type. So right there and then Geno knows that he’s screwed. 
The man whose life Geno saved tells Sidney to take him around the estate, and he gets to know Sidney more and realizes that, fuck, he really likes Sidney. And if he’s not reading Sidney’s expression wrong, Sidney likes him back as well. During their walk, Sidney accidentally lets slip that he’s not very happy at the estate, that his father doesn’t think much of him even though he tries so hard, and even though his father expects Sidney to take over the family business with his two older brothers one day (even if Sidney’s dream is to travel abroad to study), he knows that his father doesn’t really mean it and sees Sidney as a liability and burden. So at that point, Geno takes Sidney’s hand and reassures him that Sidney is “extraordinary; don’t listen to him. What he know? I spend thirty, maybe forty minutes with you and I already know you incredible.” And Sidney is so touched and kind of embarrassed because Geno is so close, he just manages to sputter out, “Mr. Malkin–I don’t–that’s very kind of you to say, my father will disagree, but–” “Geno. Is nickname," Geno says. He wants to kiss Sidney, and this is crossing over so many company policies but he wants to take Sidney far away from this estate. “Or Zhenya.” “Oh,” Sidney says, then tries out the name. “Zhenya.” Geno falls even deeper then, if that were possible. That night at dinner, Geno has to sit through the man boasting about his two boorish sons and berating Sidney for not being more like them and too ‘foolish for the real world,’ and he clenches his fists and just has to swallow back his anger as he watches Sidney stare at his dinner blankly. Geno’s almost regretting saving the man’s life, if not for the sake of medical history. He excuses himself to the hallway for a moment, rather brusquely, and Sidney immediately follows him. “Zhenya, don’t take what my father says to heart,” he pleads quietly. “He’s always been like this. I’m used to it.” “How they not see you like I see you?” Geno hisses back, then lowers his volume to something gentler when Sidney startles. He places a hand on Sidney’s shoulder. He has to leave. If he stays any longer, leaving Sidney and this era will be like chopping off a foot. “You see why this is frustrating?” “I don’t understand,” Sidney whispers. They’re standing very close, Sidney’s nose is almost brushing Geno’s. “I don’t know what you mean–” “I see Sidney,” Geno says. “Smart, brave, earnest, kind, care a lot, beautiful–” “No, please–” Geno has a hand on Sidney’s waist now, but Sidney doesn’t pull away. Instead, it’s almost like he’s slotting himself into the curve of Geno’s outline. “I see wonderful man, and I want to shout and scream at entire table, tell them how stupid they are, not see how special you are and how lucky they are to have you.” “Zhenya,” Sidney breathes out, almost in awe, and that’s the breaking point.  Geno leans down and kisses Sid, and Sid, wonderful Sid, is slow and shy and scared but reciprocates the best he can. He jumps a little when Geno sticks his tongue into Sidney’s mouth, but whimpers and holds on to Geno’s lapels even tighter. When they pull apart, Sidney’s face is flushed and he seems to be thinking a million thoughts at once.  “Zhenya,” he says, almost like he’s about to cry. “Tomorrow, when you leave, I want to–I understand if you cannot, but…I want to go with you. Back to Pittsburgh. My father won’t mind, he doesn’t need me at the estate, not really–” Geno’s brain short-circuits a little. He can’t…bring Sidney…can he? He’s about to open his mouth and say how much he wants Sidney to come and how much he can’t explain how that could potentially fuck things up without sounding like a lunatic, when his communication device beeps from his pocket. Sidney jolts at the noise and gapes as Geno answers it. There’s no point in hiding anymore - the beeping means it’s Flower back at the home base, and Flower must want him back now. “Geno, what the fuck,” Flower says. Sidney’s still gasping at the communicator. “You were supposed to be back seven hours ago. What the hell are you doing?” “Zhenya, what is that?” Sidney asks in wonder, before Geno can shush him. There’s a pause before Flower’s voice comes back, slowly and dangerously, “Geno, who the hell are you with?” Well, he’s fucked. “Um…just…someone,” Geno says lamely. “Geno, please tell me you are not with Sidney Crosby, the subject’s third son, as we speak.” Sidney’s delighted as he says, “Is this some kind of machine that lets you talk to other people? This is incredible, Zhenya! Can they hear me–” “Shh!” Geno turns back to Flower frantically, whispering, “I’ll be back soon, Flower. I finish the mission, just…guy wants me to have dinner.” “You should’ve said no!” “I did! He not listen!” “Okay, whatever,” Flower sighs. “Look, I’m just letting you know that Conor found something else in the documents. There’s a recorded account in the guy’s journal that says he got robbed in his own house on the exact date you’re visiting, a little after dinnertime. Which is why I’m telling you that you have to leave, now.” “He get mugged in his own house?” Geno says incredulously, then adds in, “He deserves it, probably. He kind of an ass.” “Zhenya!” Sidney admonishes, breaking out of his fascination with Flower’s voice. “Anyways, does that mean I have to save him again?” Zhenya says in annoyance. “Take him out of house until robber finish…robbing?” “No,” Flower says. “Says here that after taking a few valuables and threatening the family, the robbers just left. And–oh…” Pause. “It says here that…they took the guy’s third son with them.” “What?” Sidney and Geno say at the same time.  “Yeah, apparently Sidney got kidnapped and the townspeople never saw him again. He was assumed dead after a week of not showing up. Look, Conor found a picture of Sidney’s gravestone on Google. I think you can actually visit it, it’s like a historical sightseeing point now…oh, says here you need a ticket–” “Zhenya, you’re frightening me,” Sidney says, his voice trembling. He’s still pressed against Geno, and Geno holds him tighter, pressing a hurried kiss against his temple. “What is going on? I don’t understand–” “You gotta get out of there,” Flower says again. “I don’t want there to be casualties, and you’ve already stayed way too fucking long–” “Flower!” Geno barks. He can’t leave Sidney behind, not like this. “The medical discovery–was it by Sidney or the brothers’ kids? No, right? No point in saving the subject if he already have the kids–”  “Who gives a shit?” Flower yells back. “Why does this matter–” “Flower, this matters. Ask Conor–” “It’s by the fourth son’s line,” Conor pipes up. “The guy had two more kids after Sidney dies–er, goes missing. Hey, did you know one of the sons will have the middle name Sidney–”  Geno tries to ignore how Sidney tenses when he hears the last part. “I’m take Sidney with me,” Geno says. Sidney’s eyes widen.  Flower’s voice comes back, louder than ever, “What the hell, Geno–no, have you lost your mind–” “I’m not leave him to 19th century muggers. I see you in five minutes, bye Flower,” Geno says, then turns to Sidney after he hangs up. “You want to see Pittsburgh? I take you. But you can’t come back.”  “I don’t want to come back,” Sidney says, and even though his voice still sounds uncertain, his expression is unwavering and stubborn.  “Okay, good,” Geno says, and as he bends down for one more kiss, a noise like a cup shattering to their left and a gasp distracts him. “What in God’s name is going on?” one of the brothers spits out furiously. “Mr. Malkin, how dare you–what the–this is highly inappropriate–unhand my brother right this–” “No, it’s not Mr. Malkin’s fault,” Sidney starts frantically. “He didn’t–” Just Geno hears a window breaking and sounds of servants screaming. He takes Sid’s hand and runs upstairs, back to his room where he’d left the time travel device. “Okay, good talking to you! Or maybe not! Have to go now, good luck with robbers–” He kicks his door open and quickly adjusts the time setting on the device back his own time, and the last thing he hears is the robbers yelling and plates breaking, before his perspective shifts and he and Sidney crumple to the floor at HQ.  “You complete asshole,” Tanger is saying. The pounding in his ear is taking a while to go away, as it always does. “I can’t believe–oh my god, we’re so fucked. We’re so fucked.” “Shut up, Tanger,” Geno grouses, then blinks the blurriness away. “Sid? Sid, you okay?” Sidney is still kneeling on the floor, staring wide-eye at the office and the monitors. “Zhenya,” he whispers. “This is remarkable.” “Flower, did anything happen to timeline?” Geno demands. Flower’s tapping away at a screen and turns to Conor, who shrugs. “Not that I know of. That’s…strange…” “Then he meant to be here,” Geno says, bringing Sidney closer to him. 
Sidney seems a little wary at the affection, especially in front of Tanger and Flower, but relaxes and leans into Geno when Tanger sighs, “Really, Geno? You just couldn’t keep it in your pants for one mission?” “Sidney is different, very special,” Geno says. “Will be okay. Welcome to 21st century, Sidney.” “Oh,” Sidney says, very faintly. “I thought we were just going to Pittsburgh.” “Yeah, also Pittsburgh,” Geno says, kissing Sidney’s forehead again. “Welcome to Pittsburgh, too.”
448 notes · View notes
oreasa · 7 years
Link
Rip took a deep breath as nearly everyone on the bridge started asking questions at once. “Alright!” He raises his hands for a moment to quiet his team. “Now, obviously we each have our own explanations to give. First and foremost, we need to figure out where we are in each other's timelines. River, have you been to Manhattan yet?”
River shakes her head slightly, “No, what's in Manhattan?”
“Something traumatic, to say the least. Now, that I think about it you seemed to know what was coming that day, and now I know why. I'll give you some hints later.”
“Alright,” River nods firmly before turning to Sara. “Honey, what year did he pull you from for this little expedition?”
“January 2016,” Sara answers as she takes a seat beside Snart, “And mini-me in the cargo bay is from that criminal justice project I had in 2007.”
“Criminal justice? I didn’t have you pegged for the good girl type, Assassin,” Snart interrupts.
Sara shoots him a look over her shoulder, “That was another life, Crook. Things change.” She focuses her gaze back to her mother. “Speaking of another life, Mom . Why did these two have to break you out of a prison?”
“First of all, they didn’t have to break me out. I was already mostly out on my own. They were just the getaway drivers.” River waves a hand at the rogues to silence them as they begin to protest. “Very capable getaway drivers. I’m sure your plan was brilliant, but not needed.  I break out all the time.  It’s quite fun.”
Rip sighs at this point, “River, please tell me you weren’t breaking out for a date.”
“No, I was actually on my way to Central for a nice bit of downtime to check in on everybody.  Do you need me to call him?”
“No. He is absolutely our last resort. If he finds out about this, he will only go crazy trying to stop the events in Manhattan from ever happening, which will very likely prevent Jonas from ever existing, and I won’t let that happen. Besides, you know how he gets when he’s up against fixed points in time.”
“Yes, it’s not the prettiest of sites.”
“As fascinating as this conversation is, it’s merely generating more questions than answers,” Stein interrupts. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why your daughter looks to be as old as you are, and why Miss Lance didn’t know this fact about her own mother.”
“Thank you, Martin.” Sara nods as Mick hands her and Snart one of the beers he acquired during River and Rip’s exchange. “The two of you,” she motions towards Rip and River with her bottle, “Need to get back on track and explain yourselves.”
“Yes, well, for starters,” Rip begins clearing his throat, “My real name isn’t Rip Hunter. It’s Rory Williams. Miranda’s real name is Amelia Pond, and this is our daughter Melody Pond. We’re time travelers, and my experience extends far beyond my time here on the Waverider.  Amy and I traveled through time with an alien friend of ours for quite some time. During that time we had Melody,” Rip begins as River picks the story back up.
“Then, I was kidnapped as a baby. The three of them tried to rescue me, and eventually I ended up growing up beside them. We’ve had quite a few adventures across time. On one of them I end up murdering their best friend, and that’s how I ended up in Stormgate where you found me. During my own travels, I stopped in Star City to get my degree and met your father there.  You know that part of the story, baby. You lived it.”
Sara nods slowly as Rip picks back up. “At the end our travels with our friend, Amy and I encountered these creatures called the Weeping Angels. They have the power to displace their victims in time and feed off of the potential time energy their victims had.  We were two of their victims.  We were dropped in old time New York.  The Time Masters,” River snorts at hearing their names, and Rip smirks. “Yes, I know. Your mother had the same reaction.  Just think of where they got their inspiration.
“Anyway, the Time Masters recruit their officers from two types of people.  The most common is orphans.  The second is anyone they can tell has been displaced by the angels.  When they approached us, Amy and I couldn’t resist the temptation of time traveling again in hopes we would run into the Doctor again.  So, we gave them false names, and here we are today.”
“So, you’re a family of time travelers who meet whenever your respective adventures cross paths?” Ray inquires with bright eyes. “That sounds like a sci-fi series waiting to be written.”
“Yes, I’m sure we could provide seasons of entertainment, Dr. Palmer. What’s more important right now, is to continue safeguarding our past selves from the Pilgrim.  You will be accompanying Professor Stein to collect Mr. Jefferson’s infant self while Mr. Snart and Mr. Rory stop by 1950 to collect the newborn Professor Stein. I will remain here to bring River up to speed on our current situation.” Rip explains as he programs coordinates for the jumpship.  
The jumpship leaves with the resident criminals for Ivy Town in 1950 after the Waverider lands in Central City in 1993.  Jax and Kendra decide to check on the passengers in the cargo hold leaving only Sara, Rip, and River on the bridge while Rip recants his time on the Waverider to River. “The one time I leave without them and the immortal psychopath launches his attack.  I went to the Time Council to convince them to let me stop him, and they refused.  I stole the Waverider, and after several failed rescue attempts, here we are today.”
“You stole a time machine.  Sounds a lot like someone else we know.” River smiles.
“Yes, he’ll never let me hear the end of it when he finds out. I know.  Now, you understand why he can’t find out about this until after it’s over.”
“Yes, now why are you risking paradoxes by gathering multiple versions of yourselves in the same place?”
“The Time Masters have an Omega Protocol which constitutes killing a criminal’s past self when all other attempts to apprehend them have failed.  The Pilgrim is their best agent when it comes to his tactic.”
“And she’s already tried to kill Mick, Ray, and myself,” Sara chimes in. “She almost killed Dad in the process.  I think I know the answer, but I have to ask.  Why didn’t you ever tell us about this other life, Mom.”
“Sara, honey, you were safer not knowing.  I was enjoying a bit of the quiet life.” River brushes Sara’s hair behind her ear.  “Besides, would you have believed me if I had told you before now?”
“Yeah, we would have thought you were crazy.” Sara nods, turning to Rip. “So, you’re my grandfather, huh? How did you miss that when you picked me up?”
Rip runs a hand over his beard, slightly embarrassed. “In my haste to save Amy, I foolishly only looked into your futures and not your pasts.  Though, I’m not sure I would have made the connection with as good as your mother is at covering her tracks.  The only way solid way to know when and where she is is to go by her escape records from Stormgate.”
“Now, all those academic conference make a hell of a lot more sense.” Sara asks, “Does Dad know about any of this?”
“From your standpoint, he will soon.  From mine, he already knows all he needs to know.”
“As much as I enjoy spoiling the future for everyone,” Rip draws their attention back to him. “We need to figure out where we can leave everyone’s past selves while we handle the Pilgrim.  It won’t do for her to be able to just show up and kill them under our noses.”
“I know exactly who can watch them,” River answers.  “She owes me a favor still.”
“Wonderful.”
“We’re here.” Rip declares as they land in 19th century London.
“Where’s here?” Comes Snart’s reply as Rip and River hop out of their seats.
“Come. I’ll show you, Snowflake.” River smiles, leading the way off the ship.
“Again, where is here?” Snart echos his previous question as the group makes their way to the large estate.
“We needed a place to hide your younger selves from the Time Masters.  They won’t think to look for us here.” Rip explains as a young woman in what can only be described as a maid’s uniform steps out to greet them.
“Ma’am’s been expecting you.  The tea is ready in the parlor.  This way.” The maid leads them inside where a woman dressed completely in black with a matching veil is waiting for them.  “Mr. Williams and Miss Song are here with their friends Ma’am.”
“Thank you, Jenny.” The woman smiles pulling back her veil revealing green reptilian skin. Ray and Kendra’s eyes widen at the reveal as Stein utters a hushed “Astonishing,” while Mick chuckles at their reactions.  “Rory, I see a lot has happened for both of us since Demon’s Run.”
“That it has, Vastra.  We could sorely use your help again.” Rip begins over his team’s reactions.  “The Time Masters aren’t fond of interacting with anyone outside of the human race.  So, I highly doubt they will bother you, but if they do I’m sure the three of you can handle yourselves.”
“Where is Strax by the way?” River questions, sipping her tea.
“He’s preparing one of the guest rooms.” Jenny answers, “You said there were babies to look after.  He wanted to make sure everything was ready for them.”
“Right.  Shall we bring them all down, then.”
The team escorts their past selves into the estate as Vastra pulls Rip aside.  “This is quite the group of friends you have here, Rory.”
“My friends. They’re the people whose relationships with their friends and family I’ve put at risk to save my family.”
“You think you’ve been selfish?”
“I do, yes.”
“What a load of old codswallop. You have always risked everything for your family. We faced down an army together to save your daughter.  Now, you’re doing the same to save your wife and son, but you won’t accomplish anything by wallowing.  So for goodness’ sake, pull yourself out of it and get the job done.”
“And what about you?  I’ve put you in terrible danger.”
“You don’t honestly think I’d agree to protect all these delicious looking children if I didn’t think I’d see you again, do you? We managed quite well against an army.  I’m sure we can handle whatever comes our way if it’s anything at all. So, go on! Save your wife.”
“Yes, yes. I will.” Rip smiles, “And, Vastra, please don’t eat any of them. One of them is my granddaughter after all.”
“More reason for you take care of this quickly and hurry back,” Vastra smiles and Rip chuckles heading back to the Waverider.
“Are you sure we can trust an overgrown potato with our baby selves?” Snart asks when they reach the temporal zone.
“Mr. Snart, I assure you, Strax is no threat to any of your younger selves. I’d be more worried about the discipline Vastra will dole out if any of you cross her.”
“If you say so.” Snart drawls as the team disperses while Gideon begins calculating a new way to track the Pilgrim. Not long after Rip calls them back to the main deck after receiving a message from the Pilgrim herself.  The message tells them she has collected a family member of each of the crew, and is offering to spare them in exchange for the Legends’ past selves. Rip’s counter-offer of his past self is accepted skeptically.
“Wait, how are you going to deliver your past self without the Doctor noticing?” River asks curiously.
Rip smirks heading for the captain’s chair, “There’s an alternate timeline where he left me alone with a box for two thousand years.  We just have to convince myself to leave for an hour or so.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant,” River grins, heading for a chair of her own.  The rest of the team follows suit heading for their respective seats.
“Two thousand years? Just how old are you?” Stein implores as he pulls down his restraints.
“That is a long story that I’m afraid we do not have time for today. Maybe another time.” Rip swivels in his chair, pushing the lever forward to begin their jump. They land in an isolated area with a large stone cube in the distance. “You all will want to wait here.  This is best handled by River and myself.  If know my past self, which I do, I won’t be trusting of a large group.”
The team stays behind as the father and daughter team make their way towards the large box.  They watch from the window as the two talk to what looks to be a younger version of Rip in Roman armor. “So that’s what Rip meant by ‘The Last Centurion’,” Snart quips as they watch the exchange go down.  The Roman looks hesitant until River says something that seems to change his mind.  River then goes to stand where the Roman once was as he accompanies Rip back to the Waverider.
“Strap yourselves in everyone, we’re about to face the Pilgrim.” Rip announces as they reach the main deck.
“We’re just leaving Curly behind?  I don’t like this.” Mick scowls, directing his suspicion towards Rip.
The answer comes from the young Rory, “I wasn’t leaving the Pandorica unprotected.  She volunteered to stay behind until I came back. It was the only way.”
Rip looks to his past self, “You’ll want to hold on.  This isn’t what you’re used to with the TARDIS.”
“TARDIS. That sounds interesting. What’s that?” Ray inquires as Rip programs in coordinates.
“Time and relative dimension in space. A Gallifreyan time traveling vessel,” Gideon answers as they make the jump to abandoned Time Master outpost where the Pilgrim is waiting for them.
“What is this place?” Jax asks.
“Neutral ground.” Rip answers as they make their way inside with Stein, Mick, and Rory. “It’s a defunct Time Master Outpost.”
Once in the warehouse the Pilgrim struts inside with confidence. Jax immediately notices she’s alone, “Where’s my dad?”
“On board my ship, along with the rest. All in perfect condition as long as your captain honors his end of the bargain.”
“You’d murder a fellow Time Master” Stein implores, stalling for time.
“I’d murder as many as is necessary to accomplish my mission.”
“Do you know what this will do to the timeline, killing a Time Master?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I am sanctioned by the Time Masters to do what my former colleague Chronos here failed to do.”
“Enough of that,” Rip interrupts as Mick scowls at the Pilgrim. “Let’s get down to business.”
“Where’s the rest of your group.”
“They’re around.”
“I’ll be taking the Roman.”
“Before you do that,” Mick moves to the side. “We don’t believe for a second their loved ones are on your ship.”
“A show of good faith, then. A prisoner exchange. Send the roman, and I’ll send the father. Once I have the future Captain Hunter in my possession, then I’ll release the rest.” She lifts a device out of her pocket and presses a button.  Jax’s father materializes in front of her looking confused.
“What the hell’s going on?”
“You don’t need to understand. Only walk.” She shoves the soldier forward as Rip looks to his past self.
“You know what needs to be done.” Rory nods solemnly, walking towards the Pilgrim.   Jax nudges Stein as Sara and Snart wait in the wings for their signal to move. Ray follows behind the centurion shrunken down in his ATOM suit.
“You wanted to see me?” Rory asks as he draws near their target. “I’m afraid I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this.”
“Nothing yet.”
“Now!” Ray shouts over his com. He shoots up enlarging himself and firing his blaster at her.
“Fool me once,” the Pilgrim growls as she stops Ray’s motions literally in time.
Sara and Snart rush out from their hiding places as Snart and Mick fire their guys simultaneously.  The Pilgrim is able to freeze their attack and push them backwards. Firestorm takes to the sky, distracting the Pilgrim with their own fiery blast.  Rip calls for Kendra and she leaps from the rafters ready to strike.  The Pilgrim barely freezes Kendra in mid-flight in time. It takes all of her effort the keep the Legends frozen in time. Her attention strays from the roman beside her for too long. “I was willing to proceed in good faith. Now you’ll watch those closest to you die.” One final shot can be heard as she looks down to see Rory’s hand has has split in half to reveal a the barrel of a gun underneath.
“You won’t be hurting anyone’s loved ones anymore.” Rory declares before ducking out of the way of the blasts the reduce the Pilgrim to ash.
“I survived over two thousands years of solitude guarding the Pandorica because I wasn’t entirely human at the time.  They had no way of knowing what I was capable of,” Rip explains.
“It’s lucky for us, you didn’t forget your roots,” Snart quips holstering his weapon.
“Believe me, Mr. Snart, I will never forget everything I went through for Amy.” Rip looks to his younger self. “Now let’s get you back to her.  She’ll be glad to see you when she wakes up.”
“Right, mind explaining what that was all about?” Rory asks following him.
“Oh, believe me, it’s better if you don’t see it coming.”
They waste no time after that collecting their loved ones from the Pilgrim’s ship.  They make a stop at Jenny and Vastra’s after exchanging Rory for Rip. It takes a bit of convincing to get each of their loved ones to agree to take the amnesia pills before returning them to their proper time periods.
“Time, the history from which your younger selves were removed, is beginning to set, as is evidenced by the changes in Clarissa’s memory,” Rip begins after Snarts comment about being pressed for time.
“So how long do we have till these changes stick?” asks Jax, looking concerned.
“No one knows,” Mick answers.
“Which is why we need to move swiftly to locate Vandal Savage if any of your lives are to be restored to normal,” Rip continues.
“So how long will it take to determine a new location for Savage?” Kendra crosses her arms.
“Longer than we have. Fortunately, there is one place in time that we know Savage to be.”
“You said he conquered the world in 2166,” Mick points out.
“You also said it was too dangerous to strike at Savage while he was at the height of his powers,” Stein adds.
“That it is. But with your younger selves removed from history, we have quite literally run out of time.”
1 note · View note
ravenvsfox · 7 years
Note
You're my fav fic writer here
(i lov u thank you sm, also this prompt is fucked up I had FUN)
Neil’s face is so sunken with grief that he’s barely recognizable. Andrew watches cooly as Nicky jokes with him, the energy of the team cascading down and off of Neil, water off an indifferent umbrella. This is not the same man who was buoyant with a fresh win half an hour ago, who holds exy in higher regard than his own life, some days.
Andrew crosses to him, siphoning Neil’s attention away from the action of the room to him, just him, their eyes hooked together.
“Thank you,” Neil says, his mouth trembling. “You were amazing.”
Andrew searches his face, waiting for more. The room around them feels hazily separate, his attention is pulled to every flicker of Neil’s eyes, every shape his mouth makes. Something is giving out like a rotting support beam, Andrew can feel the collapse as if it were happening in his own body.
He catches Wymack gesturing from the corner of his eye, and the foxes fall into line. Neil keeps holding Andrew’s gaze the way someone might watch their home disappear on the horizon as they drive away.
He turns on command, though, body held too casually to be genuinely at ease, walking in tandem with the men bracketing him.
Andrew levels Wymack with a dismissive look and turns on his heel to follow Neil to the parking lot, his heartbeat out-pacing his footsteps.
He watches the bobbing heads of the man in the reflective vest and his colleague guiding the team through a simmering crowd. A bottle careens past Aaron’s head and Andrew looks blackly out in the direction it was thrown from. His eyes return to Neil, and because he’s watching, he sees the moment the crowd swells and Neil is grabbed hard by the wrist.
Andrew starts running immediately, pushing his way through a crowd that feels more like the tumultuous surface of an angry ocean. He trips over a slippery bottle and clips a 6 foot tall Bearcats fan, who tries to punch Andrew and gets his hand ripped at the seam of his fingers for his trouble. The crowd is a firing squad pointed at him, but Andrew braves it without hesitation.
He loses sight of the shiny vest and Neil’s flaming hair, almost tripping again on a duffel bag upended in the street. He kicks viciously at it before realizing it’s Neil’s, his racquet dropped two feet away. It’s like a crime scene, like the gunpowder left in the wake of a ripping bullet.
Andrew scoops the racquet up and breaks into a flat-out sprint with it held in front of him, using its length to rake the crowd out of the way. They break, more interested in self-preservation than the spirit of revenge. Andrew gets a clear view of Neil’s shoulder being wrenched around, his face contorting with anger as he’s stuffed into the back of a highway patrol car.
“Stop,” Andrew calls, voice raised. He skids into the parking lot just as the door is closing on Neil, and four sets of eyes swing towards Andrew. He sees Neil mouth ‘no’ as a woman with an unhinged grin cranes around Neil, sizing Andrew up.
“Who’s this, Junior?”
Andrew’s head ruffles memories like cards, and he picks out the blood on the changing room mirror. Happy 19th Birthday Jr. He’d suspected it wasn’t Riko’s style.
“No one,” Neil says. “A teammate.” He gives Andrew a vaguely dismissive look, a more complete lie than Andrew’s seen from him in a long time. Figures that do-or-die situations are the only ones Neil applies logic to.
“A teammate,” the woman mimics. “You tell him?”
“Am I an idiot? Of course not,” Neil says, and jerks his head to the side, telling Andrew quietly to run. The men from earlier are piling out of the car again, clearly on some invisible cue from the woman in charge. “He doesn’t know anything,” Neil says more firmly.
“I know that you’re not taking him,” Andrew says. The woman laughs.
“Sorry to say that you don’t get to decide much of anything, no one,” she mocks. “He is our problem, and it’s about time we solved it.”
Andrew steps forward. “He’s not your problem anymore. He’s mine.”
Her gaze flickers down and up his body, and one of the men closes in. It’s a quick fight. Andrew takes the guy down by the legs and then pins him by the throat with one booted foot. He wheels around for the next threat, and then Neil calls his name frantically.
He looks up at him for one suspended moment; Neil’s eyes swallowed by terror, something whistling close to his ear, and then he’s jolted forward impossibly hard by a blow to the head, and everything blinks out.
____
He rouses to the smell of something burning, and he becomes aware, piece by piece, of how completely fucked they are.
There’s a cool leather chair-back pressed to his face and he can feel the clink of handcuffs elaborately pinning his wrists behind him, no slack to spare. He can move his head just enough to take stock of the car, what looks like an old cadillac interior, and that same woman in the seat across from him, carving pieces out of Neil’s arms.
Andrew jerks hard against the restraints and the woman turns, the knife slipping jaggedly in Neil’s blood-sloppy wrist. He catches a sweat-beaded expression of utter enjoyment on her face.
“We’ve got a live one,” she laughs to the driver. “Well. For now. How are you doing, Andrew?”
He knows the name drop is supposed to unnerve him but he’s busy straining full-body to get to Neil, kicking with bound feet. He takes furious inventory of Neil’s injuries. He hasn’t even noticed Andrew, he’s so wracked with agony, his body convulsing and ruining his wrists in the cuffs.  
“Oh Andrew,” the woman’s voice singsongs, and her hand strokes his face.
“Don’t touch me,” he snarls. She looks delighted as she slaps him hard across the face.
“Feisty. We did a little research on you, AJ,” she coos, and he spits in her face. He hasn’t felt so out of control in years — his body is a thin skin over pure fire. She calmly wipes her face, tapping her knife on Neil’s hands as she tsk’s reprovingly.
“That’s pretty disrespectful,” she says, and accepts a dashboard lighter from the driver. “We kept you alive and everything.” Andrew ignores her, looking beyond her at Neil’s opening eyes, his clenched teeth. He’s more alert than most would be after the injuries he’s sustained. Andrew gets the full picture of Neil’s destroyed face, the blood and tears in his eyes and dripping down his chin. He can’t look away. He can’t.
“I’m Lola,” the woman introduces, clicking the lighter and digging her fingernails into Neil’s arm. “It seems only polite to let you in on the name of the woman who’s going to chop your boyfriend into little pieces.” She considers Neil weeping blood on the upholstery. “Well. Littler.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Andrew informs her. He holds Neil’s gaze and feels something huge and too late pass between them. The car is blazing red, it’s all he can see.
“Oh,” Lola says, interested, a little faux apologetic. “Let’s be adults, shall we? You’re going to be dead within the hour.”
She digs the lighter down into Neil’s forearm and Andrew struggles brutally again. It’s useless. It’s utterly useless, but he would die before he stopped trying.
“Neil,” he says, low and urgent. “Focus.”
“‘Neil’,” Lola laughs, reaching around the head rest to squish Neil’s burned cheeks. “Cute nickname, junior. Does he moan it when you’re fucking?”
“You already let me go,” Neil sobs, and Andrew becomes distantly aware that he’s talking to him. “You’re done. I’m nothing to you.” Neil’s so stupid, even now.
Andrew tests the handcuffs. He wishes he’d never woken up. He wishes he’d been faster back at the court. He wishes Neil could’ve been killed before Andrew had the opportunity to chain himself to him: the mast of a ship going down. His breath comes out like it’s going through a shredder.
They pull up to a rickety looking hotel moments later, and Neil’s head hangs, hair soaked through with sweat, hands twitching in handcuffs, blood masking the worst of his injuries. Andrew sinks lower, and panic seizes his lungs, pinching them like dry dish towels.
He knows some of Neil’s past and he knows his own, but it’s been so long since he’s had to see what complete destruction looks like from the outside.
They’re unhooked from the car one by one and ushered past two policemen who are watching them with wide eyes. Andrew doesn’t let them squirm away from their guilt, he pins them with his eyes like bugs under glasses.
“How much do my father’s people pay you to break your oaths?” Neil asks, voice familiar again, idiotic, brave, impossible.
“More than the state does,” one of them says, rubbing his arms against the cool night air. “Don’t take it personally.”
“I have to,” Neil says shakily, looking back at Andrew through a wince. “It’s our lives.”
“Should we kill him now?” the man who had been driving asks, nodding towards Andrew. Lola eyes him, considering. The officers jostle uncomfortably at the thought of directly viewing the products of their crime.
“We’ll let Nathan decide,” she announces after a beat, prodding Andrew’s back hard with the handle of her knife.
He fights against Lola and the driver but his arms are where all of his strength is, and they’re useless behind his back. He’s dumped headfirst into the trunk of a new police cruiser, and thumped in the chest so that he slips backwards, his back to the cabin of the car.
Neil’s pushed in next, his battered body snug to Andrew’s, blood seeping immediately through Andrew’s shirt and painting his fox jacket red. It’s a foolish comfort to have Neil near him, the living heat of his body and the persistent hammer of his heart. Andrew’s face is level with Neil’s neck, and he breathes into his collar, the only way he can touch him without his hands.
Impossibly, Lola climbs in after them both, pressing in close to Neil and sending shockwaves of utter hatred through Andrew.
“Cozy,” she says. “Good thing you’re both child-sized.” Andrew watches her nestle a gun at Neil’s side, a warning for both of them. She slings a leg over Neil’s and nuzzles in close. “Cute, too. Just like your father.” Her eyes are bright in the dark. “Andrew’s got a pretty face, too, don’t you think?”
“Get his name out of your mouth,” Neil grits. Andrew can feel the effort it takes not to try anything more, the tension in his shoulders. He feels it too.
“Don’t worry,” she purrs. “We’re almost at the end of the line.”
The car jostles as it gets moving again, and Andrew seethes at the thought of Lola rocking into Neil with the motion. He didn’t expect anything better from the police force, but the muffled sound of their voices so close to this is revolting.
The sirens kick up to full force after a few minutes, and Lola shushes the sound Neil makes with a nip at his burns. “Seems there’s been an incident at your father’s house. Perhaps some vandalism from lowlifes unwilling to have him back in their neighbourhood, fools who buy into the conspiracy theory that he killed his beloved wife and child.”
“People you paid to create a disturbance tonight,” Neil says resignedly, “so police could stop by unquestioned.”
“Ten points to Junior. He’s smart when he applies himself,” she whispers conspiratorially to Andrew. He ignores her. Neil’s rapid untangling of events, the rebellion in the face of certain death, the twitch in his legs to run, even now. This must have been his whole life, Andrew realizes. His whole time on the run fearing exactly this.
And you couldn’t keep him from it, something in him whispers. You’re both dead because you slipped on a beer bottle. Because you couldn’t part the crowd fast enough. Because you got distracted in a fight like Renee told you never to do.
It’s a bumpy ride, voices crescendoing outside the window but sirens petering out. Lola reaches over them both for something, and Neil’s bound hands clutch at Andrew’s jacket behind him, even though it must hurt.
“I’ll do your friend first,” Lola whispers to Neil, and Andrew smells the unmistakable tang of chloroform in the close, sweaty space. “I have a feeling he’ll make trouble.”
Andrew jerks back when she tries to close fabric over his face, bucking so that her hand slips in the dark. Neil whimpers in pain at being jostled and Andrew has no choice but to stop moving, to present his face to her and take it. 
Even in this war zone, even watching Neil’s lies vomited up in the most violent way possible, submitting to Lola is one of the worst things he’s done today. He feels the drugs take him, resenting the horrible slither of them, the heaviness in his legs and arms. He hears Neil inhale, and then there’s nothing at all.
____
He wakes up on contact with unforgiving stone, the room spinning back and forth every time he moves his head. He closes his eyes against it, then opens them, searching for a splash of red in the monotonous grey. His eyes settle on Neil being manhandled down some sort of passageway, his body limp.
Andrew clings to consciousness, thinking idly of his tolerance for medication, his susceptibility to easy waking. He fluctuates between relief and impatience at Neil’s closed eyes. He doesn’t know where they are or what’s coming, and Neil’s the only one who can navigate their way out.
“Not much of a tolerance, hmm?” Lola remarks, toeing Neil’s slack face with her shoe. She looks back at Andrew and cocks her head, reaching one hand out expectantly to her side. He doesn’t know why until she accepts a heavy looking shovel and smashes it into his face.
____
He wades to consciousness for the third time in three hours, head screaming. Neil’s at the sink in the corner now, cradling his own hands, and Lola idly twirls her gun in his direction.
Neil meets Andrew’s eyes immediately when he turns around. He shakes his head so slightly that no one else would’ve caught it. Andrew knows in his gut that he has to feign unconsciousness, that there are two of them and one of Lola and they’re not even cuffed. His armbands are still on, a terrible oversight on Lola’s part. His knives are warm at his inner arm.
He doesn’t know his way out, but Neil must. Andrew’s fresh, strong, able, despite the ringing in his head, and Neil’s mind is a vault for whatever secrets landed him here.
“How much longer is this going to take?” Neil asks, doubtless for Andrew’s benefit.
Lola replies, transparently threatening, amused. She mentions ‘his’ style of killing and Andrew flips idly through the possibilities. Not Moriyamas, surely. Someone associated with Neil’s family, someone with connections. His head clangs like alarm bells, fake sleep slip-slides into real sleep and back again.
He tries to catch Neil’s hyper-alert gaze but each time he does he gets a head-shake for his trouble. Something upstairs is holding Neil down like a sword through his chest.
Time passes strangely, darkly. The room is quiet save for the muffle of voices above and the click of the gun as Lola flicks the safety on and off.
Maybe forty-five minutes have passed when everything abruptly shifts. Andrew slits his eyes and watches Neil’s face go dead cold as someone comes down the stairs, bare feet first, and then cuffed dark jeans, a neat shirt, a scowling face.
It’s so unquestionably Neil’s father that Andrew has to fight to keep his breathing even. He turns Neil’s story in Wymack’s apartment over in his head. It’s something that’s always been sour, lies that Andrew had fought hard to believe.
He feels white hot rage at everyone in the room, people he should’ve known to protect Neil from, people hidden by Neil’s own foolish self-preservation.
Someone else hulking follows Neil’s father — Nathan, Andrew remembers — down the stairs, and Andrew and Neil’s window to escape closes cleanly.
“On your feet,” Nathan says. “You know better than to sit in my presence.”
Andrew watches, sick, as Neil stands immediately, organizing his wrecked limbs like the injuries aren’t there. Andrew knows what it’s like to be so scared of being destroyed that you’ll do anything. He knows the feeling of choosing the pain you have over the threat of more. Lola laughs in the background.
“Hello, Junior,” Nathan says. His eyes slide beyond Neil, to Andrew’s slumped form. “Who’s this?”
“Collateral,” Lola says. “Shall we kill him?”
Nathan’s eyes narrow, so like Neil’s but so utterly unwanted. “You know he’s faking sleep, of course,” he says, and stalks closer. He lifts his foot up to stomp on Andrew’s face and Andrew catches it, twists. Nathan staggers but maintains his balance, and his smile is that of a starving lion.
“Oh you are dead.”
Andrew rolls onto his knees, and the big guy in the corner comes forward. Nathan waves him off.
“I don’t think he’ll fight.”
“You don’t know me,” Andrew says blankly. Neil’s eyes are huge, darting back and forth between Andrew and Nathan like he can’t believe what’s in front of him.
“I’ve got him,” Lola says, brandishing the gun and closing one eye, tongue out, a caricature of concentration. She shoots Andrew in the thigh.
He doesn’t make a sound, but his body crumples. His whole leg is lava; he’s shocked to find it in one piece when he looks down.
It’s difficult to focus on voices or things beyond the boundaries of his pain. Neil is getting punched somewhere in the room, looking his father in the eye and taking it. They’re discussing disappointments, dead mothers and broken people. The picture gets clearer, slowly, the right prescription settling in just when Andrew doesn’t want to see.
Andrew staunches the bleeding as best he can with his hand but it fountains past his fingers. It’s inconvenient, is the thing. It’s one leg less. He tries to look at Neil but Neil’s eyes are frozen on his father, his jaw down in utter submission. Andrew won’t forget that look on him, even if he sees it replaced by fire and smart comments a hundred times over.
Nathan rhapsodizes about his upcoming torture before he launches into it and Andrew really is bored of the way these people talk. “…you’re not going to run away this time, Nathaniel. I’m not going to let you.”
“Fuck you,” Neil says, back to himself as soon as Andrew could think to miss him. Neil glances at him, eyes dribbling down to his leg. His face is a wash of every bad emotion, like a slur of murky watercolour. “He’s going to bleed out,” Neil says. Nathan’s busy collecting his weapons, and he looks back at Andrew, unimpressed.
“He’s going to watch, first.” Nathan strolls up to Andrew and squats at his side, neatly avoiding the growing pool of blood. “What is my son to you?”
“An annoyance,” Andrew says, and thrusts a knife up into Nathan’s chest. His aim is off, but it’s enough to throw him backwards, and he slips in Andrew’s blood, toppling back to the floor hard.
Andrew looks up and finds Neil in the commotion that follows, both hands over his mouth.
A lot happens at once, then. Lola lunges for Nathan, clearly not quite sure whether she should do something for him without being asked.
The big man looms threateningly towards Andrew but Neil dives for the cleaver Nathan dropped and tosses it with deadly accuracy into the centre of the man’s chest.
Nathan struggles upright and grabs for his blunt axe, blood still gushing down his front, eyes wild. “Don’t let them leave.”
Neil holds the cleaver in front of him, a dangerous cornered animal with the skill to back his desperation up. Lola’s gun still outmatches him, in a distance fight.
Or would, if Andrew hadn’t grabbed the back of her knees and forced her down. “For a professional, you leave a lot of loose ends,” he says, and he scoops up the gun to give her a matching bullet hole in her leg. She howls, Nathan curses, Neil steps closer, shaking with relief.
“You’ve lost,” he says, and stares down his father, looking like a resurrected corpse, bloody and vengeful.
The ceiling opens to gunfire and shouts, and Andrew plasters himself to the floor. Neil drops beside him, hands over his head, and Nathan takes advantage of his weakness, hefting his axe up and aiming it at the back of Neil’s neck.
A bullet catches his hand, and the weapon clatters uselessly to the floor beside Neil’s head. People pack into the cellar, grim faces behind various weapons.
“Bloody hell. Nathaniel?” someone says, and Andrew glances up into an unfamiliar middle-aged face. He registers Neil nodding, Nathan cowering on the floor like an animal, the stranger moving close and smoothly cocking his gun at Andrew.
“No,” Neil says quickly, “he’s with me.”
Andrew has the strangest feeling of emotion leeching from him again, losing hours of saturated panic along with his blood.
The man says something to Neil that ends with: “don’t look. This will be over in a moment.” He turns on Nathan.
Andrew shoots Nathan before the stranger has the chance to, a bullet through his forehead, one good shot. He falls like a spent balloon, pathetic and wheezing.
There’s a stunned silence, and then Neil starts laughing behind his hands, wild, unfunny laughter.
“Stop that,” Andrew says, unnerved to his bones. Neil looks at Andrew and seems to sober immediately.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. The man speaks to Neil in hushed, frantic tones, and Andrew can pick out stray words. FBI. Moriyamas. Butcher.
They’re smuggled up a narrow passageway by rough guiding hands. Andrew limps heavily on his right leg and Neil favours different sides of his body from step to step. He is a balance in every injury, a symmetrical ruin.
They burst out into the night and there are police, again, hoisting them to their feet and pointing guns in their faces.
“You’re too late,” Neil says thickly, “my father is dead.”
Andrew watches the agents trying to get Neil’s attention, snapping in his face, but his eyes are unfocused and wandering. Andrew knows instinctively that he’s reliving his father’s death on loop.
“My name is Nathaniel Wesnisnski,” Neil says, eyes sliding to Andrew’s, chin high. “And my father is dead.”
He smiles, warped, and keels over in the bushes, throwing up violently with strange hands holding him upright. The sight spurs Andrew into motion, suddenly, unhindered by barrels of guns and clever cutting hands. He moves forward on one leg and slaps the agents’ hands away, grabbing Neil by the shoulders.
“Neil.”
He doesn’t look up, doesn’t seem to recognize the name.
“We won,” Andrew says, wiping blood from Neil’s eyelashes, holding him upright by his uninjured waist.
“We won,” Neil repeats, and his legs give out. Andrew goes down with him, not strong enough on one leg and 60% blood volume to take the full weight of Neil’s body.
They end up knotted together on the Wesninski lawn, both of them fading from blood loss but unflinchingly alive.
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