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shofics · 3 years

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So tumblr ate the ask (thanks! I hate it!) but @knifemartin sent the prompt 13. pirate au but make it... sky pirates with Earhart, Zolf, Sasha, and Wilde! This got frighteningly long so I had to put it under a cut, I hope you enjoy my ramblings. <3 They’re going to kill a dragon!!

I think I genuinely might clean this up and make it into a proper fic. Watch this space.

Zolf Smith is a miner. Zolf Smith dreams of the sky. Zolf Smith kills his brother. Zolf Smith takes flight.

The Meritocracy doesn't have air forces- don’t really need ‘em when you’re a huge fuck-off dragon who can fly- but they’re worried about the increased presence the separatists are having in the skies above their lands, so they’re building one. Zolf leaps upon it like a life raft.

When the ship goes down, there are two reasons he doesn’t die; his past, and his god.

The Reliant answers the emergency call, and that surprises Zolf- a known separatist vessel, making an attempt to save the crew of a ship in the Meritocratic Air Force- but a lot of things surprise him about Captain Earhart. It’s not the Reliant’s fault that he is the only survivor. It is due to the Reliant that there is an only survivor at all.

His family were Harlequins. Captain Earhart recognises him, visits him in the sick bay as her medics do their best to save his legs, asks after his father, asks after his brother. Gives an understanding nod when he refuses to speak about them. Offers him a job, because he desperately needs one.

It’s a lot all at once, and they can’t save his legs, but he finds he doesn’t need them. Dwarves don’t have the build that most of the Hermes lot have, but he’s never let not fitting in stop him. The feeling of the wind in the rigging is like wings on ankles he doesn’t have anymore. He’s freer than he’s been his entire life.

When he is thirteen years old, Brock Rackett successfully makes it out of Other London and out of the clutches of the Rackett clan by chopping off his ring finger and escaping on the first air vessel that will take him. At least, this is what Sasha believes. She’s sad he left without her, but she knows well that when an opportunity comes, you take it. She hopes he made it out safe.

Nine years later, at twenty-two, Sasha’s opportunity finally comes. She heads for the aeroport. Maybe she’ll be able to find him.

Barrett’s men are following her, she can feel them on her tail all through the crowd like a bad smell; she needs a cover, needs somewhere to hide. There’s a drunk in the corner of the bar, some once-foppish-looking dandy, and Sasha decides to make him her cover.

She slides into the seat next to him and tries to be as inconspicuous as possible, but the drunkard starts and leaps to his feet, swaying. “Keep your trousers on,” she hisses, jumping up to pull him back down in front of her- he’s tall enough, he should provide good cover.

The man staggers out of her grip and produces a dagger from nowhere. He tries to fend her off with it- poorly- and then his eyes roll up and he collapses. Sasha just barely manages to catch him before he hits the ground.

Wilde knows the Meritocracy is crumbling. He can feel it in the air; something big is coming, something very bad, and he really doesn’t want to be here when it finally arrives.

Though maybe the sense of impending doom he’s getting is just from lack of sleep. But he’s sure that’s fine. It’s fine. He’s fine.

So he puts his bardic talents and his espionage training to work, following the trail of the odd orders and the disappearing agents, and realises quickly that if he stays, he’ll probably end up disappearing as well- or worse, become one of the people giving the odd, conflicting orders. He doesn’t know what that’s about. He doesn’t want to find out.

Wilde fakes his own death in the hopes it will throw off the scent, and decides, like so many others seeking the separatists, to head for the Americas.

In a bar at the aeroport he is accosted by a mugger, and he knew he was being conspicuous, but with everything blurring and the ringing in his ears he’s in no shape to properly defend himself. Instead of killing him, though, the dark figure hauls him up and runs.

He’s not lucid enough to take in the scene of the room she drags him into, and so he doesn’t resist as someone snaps something cold around his wrist, and he at long last sinks into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Earhart knew the look of people like Zolf Smith- lost, angry, needing. She’s seen plenty of it, in her years as an airship captain, because there are only a few reasons why people set out for the skies. And so she took him on, and he proved a fantastic first mate, knew his stuff inside and out and indulged her more reckless tendencies.

Plus, he’d been fleeing the Meritocracy. That automatically put him in Earhart’s good books.

Famous (and infamous) Harlequin airship captain Amelia Earhart was, by that point, becoming famous and infamous enough to become a thorn in the Meritocrats’ sides. They decided to target her. The fact that they tried to take down the Reliant was not her fault. The fact that she turned the whole ship around to attack back, causing a wreck that killed almost all of her crew and blew the Reliant into unsalvageable bits… that was.

The only reason she hasn’t drunk herself to death by this point is her ‘fantastic’ first mate (she’s regretting that now, in an angry way), who for some unknowable reason is unwilling to let the guilt swallow her whole.

Zolf Smith was an airman. Zolf Smith dreams of gods and wings and roads not taken. Zolf Smith is given a choice. Zolf Smith chooses no.

Zolf Smith loses his magic.

Earhart is trying to die, and he’s doing his best without access to his healing magic, but it won’t work forever, not when she’s this determined to let herself waste into nothing. He’s not good at talking, and that’s what she really needs- someone to talk to. Someone to listen. But he’s got no legs, and he’s got no magic, and he’s got almost no hope left, and nowhere to go.

They take refuge in a seedy bar in the closest aeroport and report the crash; two survivors, him and Earhart. They’ve been there a month and a half when the door to their room bursts open and a terrified kid with dark shaggy hair and an enormous jacket practically falls through the doorway, lugging an unconscious man in a blue and green waistcoat.

For a split second they all just stare at each other- everyone except for the unconscious man, of course, being as he is unconscious (and bleeding, from the nose and from the ears, and Zolf may not have magical healing but he has medical training and he knows that’s bad)- and then the kid drops her charge like a sack of potatoes, slams the door closed, and dives under the bed.

“Are you in trouble?” is all Zolf asks, and the kid nods, petrified and utterly silent. “Fine. Stay there.”

The unconscious man begins to shake and cry out as Zolf manhandles him into his bed, as though having a nightmare. He wakes with a scream, eyes wide and terrified. Someone bangs on the door. “Do you mind?” Zolf yells. “Little busy in here!”

The door bursts open a second time- those poor hinges- and two men of the kind who aren’t holding knives until you look at them from the right angle, and then they definitely are, and they’re pointed right at you, appear in the doorway. They take in the sickroom and the man with the two prosthetic legs, look nonplussed for a second, and then one nudges the other and tells him to “get a move on, she’s in here somewhere,” and they disappear down the hall.

Zolf pulls the door shut behind them and goes back over to the man in the waistcoat. It takes a bit of figuring out, but eventually, in desperation- the man is obviously dying- Zolf fishes out the anti-magical handcuffs issued to him as soldier and medic in the Meritocratic Air Forces, and clips one around his wrist. He goes limp.

He turns around to find the dark haired kid staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers. “Were they lookin’ for you?” he asks, and her eyes narrow.

“Why do you want to know?” she asks defensively- as though they could be looking for anyone else. The kid has ‘runaway’ written all over her.

“‘Cause I’m tryin’ to save your life,” Zolf snaps, and that seems to shock her, “so if you could work with me here, that’d be great, I’ve got enough on my plate tryin’ to save her life-” jerks a thumb to Earhart- “and apparently this one’s as well-” to the now asleep man taking up his bed. “Who are you? Who’s he?”

“I dunno,” says the kid, “he just kind of fell over.”

Sasha does not make the decision to trust him then. She doesn’t even tell him her name. She makes the decision to trust him when he tells her, a day later, as they sit against the wall and watch the man in the waistcoat mumble in his sleep, that he used to work on an airship.

“I’m Sasha,” she says. “Can I come with you?”

The white-haired dwarf named Zolf Smith- he looks too young to have white hair, but Sasha knows not to judge from appearances- grimaces. “I mean,” he says. “Dunno why you’d want to.”

“I want to see the sky,” says Sasha, who has spent her entire life underground. Zolf looks at her and seems to see something in her that pains him.

“I dunno where I’m goin’,” he warns her mournfully, looking back at Earhart, who is also sleeping. “But you can come with if you want. ‘S your choice.”

He doesn’t ask Sasha’s surname. She decides to trust him.

The name of the man in the bed next to her is Oscar Wilde, and Earhart starts frantically reaching for a gun, any gun, forgetting in her automatic fury that Zolf had taken them all off her weeks ago. A Meritocratic agent-

“Ex-agent,” says Wilde politely. “Please don’t shoot me, Captain, I’ve almost died once this week and I’m not really eager to repeat the experience.”

Earhart feels more lucid than she has in ages as she listens to him describe the strange series of events that brought him there, how sure he is that something is brewing within the Meritocracy’s upper ranks, the disaster that is coming. She can feel Zolf’s eyes on her as all her grief and guilt and despair and boiling anger calcify inside of her.

Wilde is like her, like Zolf, like Sasha- lost, angry, needing.

Wilde has information she can use.

“Mr. Wilde,” Earhart says, her voice hoarse with disuse but filled with more fire than she’s felt since the crash, “you are going to help me kill a dragon.”

She didn’t like him at first- he talked down to her, and his posh affectations grated on principle- but Sasha has to admit that Wilde is smart. She stares in disbelieving wonder as he produces a bag of holding full to the brim with more gold pieces than she’s ever seen in her life. His Meritocratic funding, he tells the spellbound group, because he can spellbind even without his magic. He liquified as many assets as he felt he could get away with before leaving.

“Pick a ship,” he says, “any ship. We can buy it. No need to steal.”

“We’ll need elementals,” Earhart says. “At least two.”

Wilde turns to Zolf. “You’re a cleric, aren’t you?” he says. “You can summon elementals.”

“Not anymore,” Zolf bites.

“Why?”

Zolf makes a face. “I don’t- when- okay.” He sighs. “Look-” and casts Spark into the fireplace. He jumps back in shock.

“I… don’t see the problem?” Wilde says after a good minute of silence, looking from the roaring flames back to Zolf. Sasha gets up and goes to dry her hair by the fire; the weather around the ports has been awful lately. Zolf stares into the flames in surprise.

Zolf Smith was a cleric. Zolf Smith dreams of a new ship. Zolf Smith finds a team, full of people who need healing, the kind he can now provide. Zolf Smith has hope.

#my post #answered #prompt fill #my writing #knifemartin #rqg #rqg fic #rusty quill gaming #rqgaming #sasha rackett #zolf smith #rqg wilde #wilde rqg #rqg earhart #earhart rqg

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mmvalentine · 3 years

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Of Mermaids and Men pt 1 | Feysand

I got a lovely ask from an anonymous sender requesting a Feysand fic in a mermaids and pirates AU. This is something I would not have thought of myself in a million years, so whoever you are, thank you for this prompt!! Might be a sort of two-shot deal, we'll see how we go.

Feyre had been in this tank for 63 days. She knew this not because the lamps ever turned off or gave her a sense of day or night, not because there was any natural light to indicate what hour of day it might be, not because there was anything at all to mark the passing of time. But because the head scientist walked in every morning and dictated notes to his assistant: "The date is the 22nd of March, in the year of our lord 1705. This is day 63. Subject 104 seen resting on floor of the tank, appears to have eaten the fish we fed it. Mermaid diet apparently indiscriminate."

Feyre hissed at this. She hadn't wanted to eat anything they had given her, but they only fed her every three days and the hunger took over. The scientist raised an eyebrow. "Subject 104 baring teeth, does not seem to be adjusting to new social environment."

What social environment? Feyre thought. She was alone in the tank, and the scientist never addressed her directly.

Once, when she was first caught, the scientist's red headed assistant attempted to communicate with her. He had put a hand up to the glass, and said "Hello mermaid. My name is Lucien, and this is Tamlin."

Feyre had been so scared, and so disoriented that all she could do was swim in circles, looking for an exit.

"Come away from there," the head scientist had said. "Don't bother the subjects, they can't understand you. And besides, you'll ruin the integrity of the experiments."

So Lucien had shot her a sad and sorry glance, and walked away. And no one had spoken to her since.

Of course, Feyre had tried to talk to them. But they didn't understand her, didn't have ears that could hear under water. She gave up eventually, and now spent her days sitting on the floor of the tank and hoping they'd either release her or kill her quickly.

So when the pirates appeared hours after the scientists had left that day, Feyre was more shocked than anyone.

It had started with a grinning face over the top of the tank. Feyre didn't notice at first, but then the head cast a shadow and it was so rare for changes in the light that Feyre looked up. And saw a smiling face, dark hair falling into his eyes and cheekbones as sharp as knives. The face disappeared as fast as it had come, and then before Feyre could wonder who that was, the tank lurched violently to the left.

Feyre put her hands out to catch herself against the glass, and then she was being tipped the other way. She scanned the room, and could now see two very large men, a tall blonde woman, and a short dark haired lady who was standing back and seemed to be directing the whole operation.

They were rocking the tank so they could slide a wooden platform under her, which had small wheels attached to each corner. Then ropes were being thrown around the tank to lash it to the board, and finally the two big men were hauling the ropes over their shoulders. Feyre startled when the first grinning man hopped up onto the platform with her, and braced his arms on the glass.

"Hello darling," he said. "My name is Rhys. What's yours?" Feyre stared into his violet eyes, ringed with dark kohl. He had several gold loops threaded through his ears, and numerous silver rings on his fingers. His loose linen shirt was rolled up at the sleeves to reveal black and orange tattoos up his forearms. "Feyre," she answered him, before she could remember that human ears could not hear her under water.

But Rhys just smiled wider. "Nice to meet you Feyre. We're breaking you out, if that's okay with you." Feyre just gaped at him, and Rhys' eyes turned soft.

"You've been in here a long time, I think. I'm sorry it took us so long to get to you. Tamlin's got more fae in here than we realised." "There are more? I haven't seen anyone." "Yeah everyone's in individual tanks so they can't interact." Rhys looked angry now. "I'd go after him myself, but we have to get you all to safety first. You were the one furthest back, so unfortunately we got to you last."

The wooden board was rolling now, bumpy and uneven. Rhys looked up at the top of the tank, where water was sloshing out from under the lid.

"Where are we going?" Feyre asked. "Well, first we have to get you out of this place. We've drugged the guards so that should be no problem, they haven't bothered us with any of the others. Then we'll split up, Mor and Cassian will take a number of fae back to the forest, some will just fly away, and you we will have to get back to the ocean.

The ocean. The big, wide open space where Feyre could actually move around. She swallowed. Rhys caught the moment, and gave her a small smile.

"Don't worry, Feyre darling. We'll get you home soon." "Who are you all?" Feyre asked. Rhys grinned again. "Pirates," was all he said. And then he had to be quiet as they rounded a corner where there were indeed, guards slumped over in their chairs. Now that they had left the lab, Feyre noticed it was dark, and there were stars out.

"It's a little way out," he said more quietly. "We got horses and a wagon but I'm afraid it's not going to be a particularly comfortable journey for you." "It took two days coming in," Feyre said. Rhys nodded. "We're pretty far from the ocean. I've been tracking Tamlin for a while now, we first noticed him out on the water but we couldn't attack at the time. We're just one measly pirate ship, he was part of a whole fleet. And then we lost him for a bit, when there was a bad storm. Figured he'd headed back to land, but where exactly that was we didn't know. Finally got wind of his laboratory set-up two weeks ago, and have been slowly putting plans together and infiltrating his space ever since."

Feyre wondered how many fae they had rescued. She was just about to ask, when the platform stopped moving. The short haired woman came up to Rhys. "Trouble ahead," she said. "Five new guards, panic is starting because the lab's empty." "Take Mor and Azriel," Rhys said. "Keep them away from us. Cassian and I will get Feyre back to the wagon." Amren nodded once, and then disappeared.

"Sorry dear," Rhys said. "Looks like I'm on hauling duty. I'll keep an eye on you but if you feel the tank slipping you give me a shout okay?" Feyre nodded. Rhys hopped down and took up the rope that the man he called Azriel had abandoned, and they continued pulling the platform away. Behind them, shouts and ringing steel rose up like smoke in the night.

There didn't seem to be any more trouble by the time Cassian and Rhys reached the horses. They let down a ramp and wheeled the platform and tank into the wagon, and covered the whole thing with a sheet of canvas. Feyre had been in a windowless room with the lamps on for two months, and the sudden dark was both a relief, and very frightening.

"Are you okay in there?" Rhys called. "Yes," Feyre said, but her voice shook. "I won't leave you alone," Rhys promised. "We're just waiting for the others to get back."

Sure enough, running footsteps rang out minutes later, and there was hurried movement as they all hauled onto horses and took off at speed. A minute later, the canvas lifted, and Rhys reappeared. The sight of him, even thought Feyre had only just met him, made her heart stop racing quite so painfully fast. Then he slid down into the water with her, and she moved backward in surprise.

Rhys grinned his white grin. "Surprise," he said. His voice was crystal clear underwater, and now she noticed gills flare around his neck. "You..?" "Oh yes, we're all part fae," he said. "We mostly live like humans, and then we found each other and took to the sea instead. Hungry for horizons."

Feyre barely registered what he was saying. Just threw her arms around his neck, and finally let herself cry into his chest. The past two months of being trapped in a tank alone came crashing into her, now that she was finally able to talk to and touch another being. Rhys' arms came up around her, and he stroked her hair as she shook. "It's alright now," he murmured. "It's over. You're going home."

Feyre fell asleep in his embrace.

****

Oooh that was fun! I'll finish up this one once I figure out how to do mermaid sex?!! Prompts are such a good game, more please 😍

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist

MASTERLIST

#feysand #feysand fics #acotar #prompt fills #mine

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sunshinesukuna · 4 years

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lemon detergent

pairing: tsukishima x reader

tw: fighting, injuries (bruises), light swearing

wc: 1.7k

genre: angst to fluff

ayyy catch me plagiarizig my own work. eh, miya atsumu can rot anyways. im sorry if this is bad, i haven’t given you guys writing for over a week and my people-pleasing ass rushed to give you guys some content ahhhhh. éñÿwâÿś, enjoy <333

Three strikes and you’re out. For each of you, so technically that was six strikes, but the two of you never debated the technicalities of it. Not like you had time to, with a hectic schedule as third-year students and athletes. Him chucking volleyballs into the air, and you chucking yourself up in the air in the wondrous sport known as cheerleading.

He’s already waiting for you in your usual spot behind the gym. God forbid anyone see the two of you together unless it was a life-or-death situation. Hinata would grow at least a feet before that would ever happen. At least that was easy when you were dating someone like him. Being in different classes, different teams, houses on the opposite sides of town. You wondered when you would actually be close to him both emotionally, and physically.

Now that you’re closer, you can smell him for real. The tang of lemon detergent that his mom loves and clean sweat can only mean it’s Tsukishima. You stand in front of him wordlessly, eyes expectant for something. Well, something other than the forlorn look in his eyes that he’s giving you.

“I don’t think I can come to your house after school tomorrow,” he says. There it is. You were totally expecting that this would come at some point during the year, but you didn’t expect it to come this soon. You’re still disappointed anyways.

“It’s the third time you’ve bailed out on me this week alone, Kei,” you complain. He puts a finger to his lips at the sound of your quickly rising voice. “I barely see you at school outside of the gym!”

“And I told you, I’m practicing. It’s not like I’m cheating or anything.” Certainly feels like you are, you want to say. But it’s best if you keep those words in the back of your head.

“For what? Nationals aren’t for two more months!” He breaks eye contact with you, opting to stare at the tree at the edge of the road.

"Practice makes perfect.”

“But you shouldn’t overwork yourself this much! Even I take breaks from cheerleading every now and then to come to support you at your games!”

“(Y/N), I think you’re misjudging how important the Interhigh is to Karasuno. If we lose—”

“I know how important the match is, Kei. But there’s a difference between giving it your all and giving it too much.” You pause, taking a long breath. “Even cheerleaders don’t break our backs trying to reach new heights.”

Tsukishima sighs before putting his hands back into his pocket. He furrows his eyebrows.

“What would you know about it? Cheerleading isn’t a real sport anyway.”

Words cut deep like knives. Tsukishima’s don’t. They hit you like a bag of bricks all at once.

The pang in your chest isn’t just from his words, it’s from his indifference. His eyes giving you that blank stare as he brushes off everything important to you. His hands staying still in his pockets as he talks to you, like you’re not even worthy of his attention.

“What?”

And thus the standoff begins.

First is the lunch line. You think waiting for food while hungry is hard? Try waiting for food when you’re hungry and have Tsukishima Kei looming over behind you. You’re about to plant your feet down in the floor when you’re finished, waiting for him to finish up, but you remember that you have no one to wait for.

So you briskly pick up your tray and move to a table where you spot some of your friends from cheer sitting. His eyes twitch at your figure walking so easily away from him. But it’s not like you would notice.

Second is the hallway. Your heart clenches a bit when you spot Yamaguchi around the corner, because you know who’s going to be next to him. You can already smell the lemon detergent from here.

His eyes burn through his glasses when you walk by. The usual glance and smile is thrown out in exchange for… nothing. Your eyes look straight forward at the end of the hall, where your classroom is. Frustration rolls off of him in waves so intense you can practically smell them, like a disruption in his lemon detergent-scented aura.

No matter, that means it’s working, right? He’ll fess up sooner enough.

But what was it again? Three strikes and you’re out. The third strike comes later at practice.

You really should have thought this out even further. The damaged piping in the gym the cheerleading team usually used meant that they had to share with someone. And who else to share a gym with than the Karasuno Men’s Volleyball Team?

So here you are, stuck at one side of the gym while you can feel Tsukishima’s eyes on you from the other side. The routine starts off well. The first stunts all hit, with none of the same wobblings that was there in the first few weeks of learning it.

And there it was. The throw was already crooked from the beginning. If you couldn’t reach the other flyer’s hand, then you were done for. In a last attempt to save the pyramid, you flung out your legs, trying to land on your feet.

Bad move.

Your knee landed on something— but it wasn’t your teammates’ hands that were ready to catch you. A spike of pain shot up your foot. Suddenly the world was a blur as skin-coloured blobs that could only be your teammates rushed to help you. The lights above were reduced to sparkles that were just too bright.

The buzzing in your ears was enough to block out the sounds coming in, but you could hear snippets of conversation here and there.

“Was that (Y/N)?”

“She landed on her knee!”

“It looks bruised….”

On your knee, eh. So that was why the fire was all concentrated on your patella. The sweat on your hands wouldn’t let you regain your balance. You slump down with your back to the floor, hands over your face to block out what little pain you could, but the faucet of liquid fire trickled down your knee to no end.

“May I help?” someone asked in a low baritone voice. You assumed that your coach said yes because you felt yourself being lifted in the air off the mat. The nape of your neck was wet, either from your sweat or this person’s.

This person was strong too. They walked briskly and easily across the halls of Karasuno, even with a body in their hands. But their heart rate was abnormally fast. They probably had been exercising.

You dare to open your eyes. All you see are pools of purple and white, obscured by the residual tears in your eyes. It could be anyone. But as your senses focused, hints olive and green came into the image. Your sense of smell was also starting to refocus as well. Lemon detergent, deodorant, and rubber.

Lemon detergent…

You opened your eyes as widely as you could. It was Tsukishima. Face unmoving and eyes showing no sign of emotion, but anyone could feel a sense of emergency with his rushed steps and the way he clicked his tongue anytime anyone stood in his way.

The scent of sharp disinfectants replaced the lemon detergent as you were put down on a soft bed. You winced at the new position you were put in, your weight crashing down on your lower body yet again.

“It hurts...” you squeak out, every word another rope squeezing your chest flush out of air.

“It does. It hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

That’s enough to set your heart at ease, if only a little. No sappy words to shoo away the pain by pretending it isn’t real, just a concise confirmation that what you’re feeling is real. And somehow, that’s just enough.

Tsukishima works quickly and quietly, adjusting the ice packs where needed. Whenever you wince or gasp in pain, he’s quick to rub a long, lanky finger over the purple parts of the bruise that doesn’t have ice covering it. It still hurts like a bitch, but at least the pain is only physical.

The emotional ones are just beginning to heal.

The 10 by 10 room is sealed — door locked, windows bolted — but it still feels like the two of you are in front of a gargantuan stage, packed to the brim with people watching you. Or is it just because the only audience you have are one another?

“I’m sorry for saying cheerleading wasn’t a sport,” he mutters. Your hearing has started to sharpen again by now.

“What?”

“I’m sorry for brushing off your advice, and belittling something you love,” he says again, Tsukishima’s tone much clearer now. His words ring like a gong in your head.

The throbbing in your knee seems to lessen with every word he says. The longer he talks, the more the fire in your feet seem to subside. Were those his words going to your head, or the gentle massages he was giving your knees as he talked?

“You don’t have to accept my apology. I can wait until you do. But… I know I did something wrong. And I intend to fix it.”

“I’ll accept your apology,” you say. On several conditions.”

His head perks up, eager to hear what you’ll have him do in order to restore things back to the way they were. Scratch that, in order to make things better. Like hell he’ll ignore you again if it leads to something like this.

“What are they?” Tsukishima.

“I know you’re practicing really hard and all that, but can you spend some more time with me?” you ask. “You don’t have to spend that much time, just… enough so it actually feels like we’re dating?”

“Weren’t we already?”

“You know what I mean.”

Tsukishima takes a long breath. He stays silent for a long time, the only noise in the room the sound of ice against ice as he moves to take another icepack for your knee.

“Alright. Anything else?”

The idea you have is silly. But it couldn’t hurt to give it a try. What’s the worse that could happen?

“Buy me some of the detergent you use.”

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima angst #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima oneshots #tsukishima scenarios #tsukki #silent treatment

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little-igit · 4 years

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Crimson Roses

𝕮𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖘

Last Chapter

A/N: Hey!! I still can't believe that I dreamt all of this- obviously not every detail but the basic plot of it. I was about to have surgery when I originally finished this chapter the update on that is good! I'm healed and everything! I do headcannons and things too by the way! I just haven't posted any yet! I do headcannons, roleplay, fanfiction obviously, I draw sometimes. I don’t bite so if you want to message me and say hi I don’t mind! I encourage it actually! Thanks to anyone who reads and comments, I'll talk to you all next chapter.

Here is a little key you might need before you start!

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Little Sisters Name(If you are an only child make one up!)

H/C - Your Hair Color

Summary: You have an odd dream on the plane that leaves you feeling worse than before. On the other hand you are one step closer to your sister!

Warnings Of The Chapter: None but if I missed something tell me!

Y/N sits in her seat, the plane had taken off a few moments before. She would be sitting there for thirteen hours and she was already tired of it. The roar of the plane’s engines as it flew through the air sounded more like an incessant humming as it was muffled by the wings cutting through the air. She closed her eyes in an attempt to relax, possibly even sleep. The sound of the plain only grew louder as she tried to get comfortable without disturbing anyone. The wings were like knives slicing through the atmosphere as the big hunk of metal was propelled through the air.

It's safe to say that she isn't a fan of flying. She can admit that it isn't the worst thing in the world but the thought that there's a chance they could randomly start plummeting towards the earth from thousands of miles above haunts her just a little. Granted the tendency to overthinking doesn't help that.

It isn't all bad though. The dim lights of the cabin combat against everything else going on, in and outside of her mind, helping her feel tired when everything else acts like it wants to keep her awake. She ends up curled in an odd position, facing the closed window that she had unfortunately been put next to. She wouldn't open it until they had been up for a while and she felt safe in the air. That is unless she felt stuffy and wanted to see the outdoors to help with that.

The longer she stares blankly at the white surface keeping her view from the outside world the calmer she starts to feel, though it could always be the dull vibrations of the plane causing her to calm down. With time her eyes start to close, body relaxing, eyelids growing too heavy as she drifts off to sleep.

When she opened her eyes everything was dark. An endless void of nothing for her to stare into forevermore. She wasn't on the plane anymore but she didn't care. The darkness felt oddly comforting.

She doesn't know how long she was staring into the nothing until she heard the sound of a drop of water crashing into a puddle behind her. The sound was a miracle reminding her she was still alive, that she IS something. It echoed for a moment, The sound beautiful like a piano key.

The sound had barely enough time to echo before she spun around to face it. Instead of looking at a measly puddle on the ground, she found herself face to face with the most elegant mirror she had ever seen.

Is stood tall enough so that all of her could be seen, her feet carried her towards it, stopping her directly in front of it. It was drawing her in like a moth to the flame. Her feet touched something wet, surprising her yet she didn't flinch, drawing her attention to the ground as well as the fact that she had no shoes on.

There was a puddle, like what she had expected to see first instead of the mirror. It was admittedly smaller than what's she thought it would be, maybe the size of her hand, by the sound the drop made but a puddle nonetheless.

The puddle gave her no entertainment and she quickly found herself bringing her gaze back up to the mirror. Her heart dropped, there were six pairs of legs standing behind her own. She felt like she should be panicked, and a part of her was, but the darkness kept her feeling safe. She needed to see who it was, or maybe she didn't, but her head started to move to see without her realizing it. It was like she wasn't the one in control, merely looking through someone else's eyes. The people behind her were all dressed nicely from head to toe but she didn't get to have a good look at any of them, as soon as she was able to meet one of their eyes they all disappeared. Like they were never there.

Another drop, she saw it this time. It was hard to make out but the reflective shine on the otherwise clear droplet, despite the fact that there wasn't any light shining anywhere from what she could tell, gave it away. Her eyes followed its path. Just as it hit the ground, giving off the same odd echo as before, though, this time a lot less like the miracle it seemed to be before, her eyes snapped open.

She had been sleeping. It had all been but a dream. She woke up to the ding from the speakers above them on the plane. She still felt calm thanks to the dream, but she was glad to be awake. The pilot's voice, or one of the flight attendants, she didn't care enough to know which, came over the loudspeaker. "Attention everyone we will be landing shortly please make sure to have your seatbelts on, and thank you for flying with us today!" The flight attendant started to repeat the phrase in Japanese given that's where they were landing, even if she could understand what they were saying she didn't want to listen to it twice so she tuned it out the second time.

Y/N straightened out from her, slightly less, balled up position than when she had fallen asleep, and clipped her seatbelt on before letting out a sigh. Had she slept that long? It didn't feel like she had but then again dreams always feel short. Maybe she had stared into the inky blackness longer than she originally thought she was when it was happening. That could have definitely messed with her sense of time. She hasn't been this confused waking up since she was little, seven maybe? It was before she started school but it could have been earlier.

She sighs, bracing herself for landing as she feels herself lean forward involuntarily in her seat. The plain starts descending as she feels the need to pop her ears every few seconds. She's reminded why flying isn't one of her favorite things. She shuts her eyes, using her armrests to push herself back up against the seat. It was much less comfortable than it was when she was asleep and she briefly wonders how she fell asleep in the first place.

She doesn't know how many seconds she stayed like that until she's jostled in her seat, the plane touching the runway making everyone bounce slightly. Everything is bumpy for a while as the plane slows down, leveling itself on the pavement until it's rolling along like an oversized car. She opens her eyes then, still not comfortable but not as uncomfortable as before…knowing they aren't in the air helps.

Finally, after thirteen whole hours, she can't believe she slept through and can't really remember the plane lands, stopping completely. Everyone starts to grab their bags but she stays seated waiting for the cabin to empty a little. She starts to gather her own things as soon as she feels she can walk into the Isle without hitting someone. She takes her carry-on bag from the overhead compartment that had mostly been filled with snacks.

She walks out into the Isle muttering 'excuse me's as she passes others trying to enter the Isle. Everyone rushing out excited to be on the ground again and out of the plane.

She still can't believe she slept for the whole flight. It's not new for her to sleep for a long time, she's used to waking up around noon. That's usually because she stays up late though and she would wake up in the middle of the night. She's never been able to sleep soundly throughout the night as she had slept on the plane. She would always wake up at least once. But she hadn't, and if she did she didn't remember which might scare her more than just not having done so.

She paused in her steps, looking around after she was out of the plane and the loading area. She was somewhere in the airport but she didn't know where. She should have been paying attention to where she was going as she walked.

She starts to walk again, looking for a sign of some type that might tell her where she is or better yet where to go. She found a map of the airport pretty easily as they tend to be all over the place. She studies it for a moment before following its directions straight to baggage claim. She doesn't know which one she's supposed to be at thanks to her not paying attention. This one seems right, she recognizes a few faces from the plane. She maneuvers her way near the front of the cloud excusing herself as she goes, waiting for her bag to come around.

She spots it easily, a Disney themed suitcase her mom bought on one of the few Disney trips she's been on. She grabs it and walks out of the way of everyone else to extend the handle so that it can roll along easily behind her. She takes a moment after that to type the location of the camp into her phone mapping services. So that she could have it ready. She grimaces as she sees how far away it is. She wouldn't want to bother with trying to find some public transportation that goes that far. She'll have to rent a car then…something she's never done that's for sure.

She leaves her spot, finding another map and studying it again before following it to a car rental place. She stands outside of it for a bit watching what everyone else does out of habit before walking up to the desk herself. She hopes someone speaks English because although she can understand it she hasn't actually had to speak Japanese in a long time.

The process is awkward and lengthy, even after they explained what she needed to do to get a car. She still doesn't really know what she's doing so that does nothing for her. It might even be the reason she takes so long.

After everything is said and done she finds herself standing in front of the airport with keys to a pretty nice car, though not an expensive one, in her hands. Before she gets in she opens the trunk, dumping her suitcase inside. She shuts it again, keeping her bag of snacks on her. She takes a second before she gets in to just stand and stare. She takes out her phone charger finding a place to plug it in. The one requirement she had when renting the car was that it had a place to plug in her phone as there was no way it would survive all the way to the camp without it.

When it's all set up she uses google to bring up directions to the camp. With all of that done, she starts to drive.

Next chapter(in the works)

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chxrrysangel · 3 years

Text

You’re My Friend

Summary || The highway scene in CATWS if Bucky’s mask didn’t fall off (Steve’s POV)

Warnings || violence, major character death, crying, vulgar language

You do not have permission to post my work anywhere else

Sam sits in the driver's seat, the trio on their way to Triskelion. They're running out of time.

"HYDRA doesn't like leaks," Sitwell says. He's not a very smart man, admittedly. A hostage shouldn't have such a smart mouth if they hope to survive the drive.

"So why don't you try sticking a cork in it." Sam is growing agitated; many lives hang in the balance as we speak.

Natasha pulls herself between Steve and Sam, arm sitting on the center armrest. "Insight's launching in sixteen hours, we're cutting it a little bit close here."

" I know. We'll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the Helicarriers directly." Steve scans the freeway looking out for suspicious black Sudans signature government vehicles. You know, if they wanted to me more unsuspecting, maybe using vehicles that blended in with the general public would've been a smarter move. Steve knows what they need to do, and they have to do it fast. The government doesn't like bugs meddling in their garden.

" What?! Are you crazy? That is a terrible, terrible idea."

Jasper doesn't have to time to really finish his argument before a metal hands clasps around his neck, throwing his body into oncoming traffic on the other side. He dies instantly, which is to be expected. It's ironic how vermin like him end up being roadkill.

The Winter Soldier begins to shoot strategically into the top of car, careful to produce as many deaths and waste as little bullets as possible. Luckily no one is hit, but they must act quickly if they're to walk away with their lives. Steve pulls the break handle, sending the assassin hurdling towards the pavement in front of them. He turns his body, titanium fingers scraping against the concrete like metal being cut with an electric saw. He returns to his feet instantaneously, the four entering a standoff as cars whisk past them in a hurry. Steve, Natasha, and Sam begin to understand the gravity of their situation, the neurons in their head running like Usain Bolt of an Olympic track. They don't have time to think however, before another vehicle crashes into them from behind. The mystery machine continues head on, sending them into the direction of immediate danger.

The Winter Soldiers leaps over the hood of the moving car, grabbing onto the front frame. Glass shatters everywhere as his steel-toed boots make contact with the rear window. Time is moving quickly, too quickly for them to catch up. Their lives hang onto the edge, supported only by the weight of the Natasha's ability to make contact with the gun swimming at Steve's feet. Unexpectedly, the assassin pulls the steering wheel from Sam's grasp, causing the car to barrel down the highway with unsurmountable chaos. Now, they're seriously in some deep shit.

"Shit!," Sam screams.

As Natasha begins to shoot back into the top of the car, Steve brags his shield and everyone in the car into his arms.

"Hang on!"

Steve breaks open the door and the three glide across the highway as the car tumbles, rolls and crashes into several others. HYDRA and the Winter Soldier are merciless. They're unconcerned about loss of life, as long as their targets are among the body count. The Winter Solider fires a grenade in the Captain's direction, sending Steve and his shield over the edge of the bridge. He flies into an oncoming bus, causing a multi-car collision in the Washington D.C streets.

The Winter Soldier stalks to the edge of the bridge, expecting to see Natasha walk across the pavement and shoot her down. However, Nat isn't easily tricked. She catches sights on the assassin's shadow from under the bridge and shoots him in the eye as her shadow meets the sunlight. Ducking down in case she starts to fire, rage begins to pool in his stomach and swim through his veins. Targets are usually not this difficult to kill. He needs to be more aggressive.

Она у меня. Найди его. (She's mine. Find him)

The Winter Soldier leaps over the edge of the bridge, landing on a car below and destroying the front windshield in the process. Mind determined and kill-mode in operation, the Winter Soldier is done playing the children's game. They die, today. Guns blazing and fear pumping through her veins, Natasha must act fast. She places a recording behind a car and makes a run for it, hoping to catch this psychopath by surprise. In the distance, Steve takes notice of the Winter Soldier going after his partner and looks towards Sam for guidance.

"Go, I got this!". Sam is trustworthy and skilled enough, Steve thinks to himself. He'll survive just fine.

Hearing her panicked voice just on the other side of the vehicle, the Winter Soldier rolls a bomb under the engine. However, Natasha having the upper hand, catches him off guard and leaps onto his shoulders. She makes a brave attempt to choke him out, only to be hurled over his body and into a car across the street. Natasha throws a one of her taser discs towards the man, disabling his titanium arm and giving herself a short window of time to escape. He's never experienced that before, previously believing this arm to be indestructible. But a tiny disk makes him useless, how does that happen?

Nat runs in the direction of a crowd of people, urging them to run with their lives. She might be a highly trained assassin, but she doesn't believe in collateral damage. People shouldn't have to die if they don't need to. In the process of her trying to save civilians, the Winter Soldier shoot her in the shoulder, sending her diving towards the pavement. Steve jumps in an attacks the man. The two engage in gun to shield combat, desperate to take the other down. The Winter Soldier is on his last leg, knowing he's running out of bullets quickly. Twirling knives, flying shields, shoulders twisting the limit of near dislocation, the two are a sight to see in the distance. The assassin lunges towards the Captain, before being flipped over and creating a several foot distance between the two. They begin to enter a standoff. Who will take the first step, they think to themselves. Just as they prepare to continue, Sam comes to rescue, kicking the assassin towards the ground several feet away. On his feet in an instant, the two men make eye contact, daring each other to try and kill the other. In this same moment, an injured Natasha sends a grenade in his direction. The strange man vanishes in the smoke of the explosion.

Sirens sounds among them, letting the trio know they've been caught by HYDRA. Rumlow, of course, is present to watch their defeat ensue.

"Drop the shield, Cap! On your knees! Get on your knees! Now! Get down! Get down!" Hands up and knees on the ground, the three feel suffocated, confused, and exhausted by the day's events.

"Put the gun down. Not here. Not here!" Rollins and Rumlow make a silent agreement from their positions across the street.

Rollins lowers his gun and HYDRA agents take Steve, Sam, and Natasha into custody.

~~~~~~

[Inside the Helicarrier, Steve is confronted by the Winter Soldier.]

"People are gonna die, man. I can't let that happen. Please, don't make me do this." Steve might have a mission, but he sits firm in his beliefs. He would rather people be unconscious than dead. He doesn't believe that people should die unnecessarily. However if push comes to shove, what will be will be. Steve realises that the man won't give up until his heart stops beating. He throws his shield at the man and revisits his attempt to put the Targeting Chip in the system. He doesn't make it far however, before the assassin attacks him again. The chip falls from Steve's hand onto the level below them. A hand-to- hand combat commences as the two men battle for the fate of Project Insight. If Steve doesn't get that chip into the system in the next two seconds, hundreds of thousands of people die. And it'll be all his fault.

At some point during this battle, the Winter Soldier catches Steve by surprise and dives a blade directly into his shoulder. He drops the chip and the assassin captures it between his fingers like stolen treasure. Steve, painfully but successfully, manages to retrieve the knife from between his shoulder blade. Knowing time is not of his side, the Captain manages to grab the Winter Soldier by the throat and put him in a headlock

"Drop it! Drop it!" Steve needs this to work, it has to. Unsurprisingly, the stranger refuses causing Steve to break his arm in desperation. He holds the man's throat desperately and tightly until he falls unconscious, providing Steve with the perfect opportunity to complete his mission.

"Firing in, three, two, one."

At that moment, Steve manages to get to the upper level and place the chip in the Helicarrier's targeting blade, overriding the system and locking it down. Project Insight has failed.

"Okay, Cap, get out of there." Maria calls to Steve via their communication system. She then proceeds to change the Helicarrier targets to each other, meaning the whole thing will go down with Steve inside if he doesn't escape.

"Fire now."

"But, Steve..."

"Do it! Do it now!" Steve knows he doesn't have the strength to escape the Helicarrier in time. He's too wounded and if he escapes, he knows the assassin is just as capable. He completed his mission, he's done what he set out to do. Steve looks over to the edge of the carrier, seeing the assassin stuck under a large piece of rubble. As much as he realizes it's a terrible idea, Steve does the right thing and goes to save him from such a body-crushing death.

"I'm not trying to kill you. I don't need to, but I will if I have to." Steve's heart aches for this guy a little bit. He's clearly under some level of brainwashing. He doesn't speak and has a one-track mind, almost as if he was made just to kill people. Steve's mind might be a little outdated, but he can tell when people's actions aren't of their own free will.

The Winter Soldier seems only enraged by Rogers's unwillingness to fight back. He's trying to kill him, why would you not fight back?

Steve makes a last attempt to reason with the man above him. However his efforts goes unnoticed as his fist collides continuously with his face. Steve is sure that he's broken something. But he doesn't care, he needs to get out of here. With all the strength he can muster, Steve pushes the man over to his right, a few feet away. He rolls over onto a lone piece of metal still attached to the Helicarrier base. The Winter Soldier makes an attempt to continue his mission to kill Captain America. But before he gets the chance, the Helicarrier bases beneath his body gives way, sending him into the river below.

Standing on the edge of the Helicarrier, watching the body of his attempted killer fall through the sky like a flightless bird, dread starts to pool in his stomach. That could just be the blood gushing through his diaphragm, making every breath feel like dying over and over again. He struggles to stay conscious, awaiting his imminent death like a masochist. Although he could just jump in the water right now and take a chance, he doesn't see himself making it to shore. However, staring at the dead weight falling before him, he begins to second-guess his choices.

What the hell am I doing? Steve doesn't normally feel like this seeing bad guys go down. But... something about this one man continues to pull at his heart strings. Something's not right here, he thought to himself. Steve clips his shield to his back and prepares to make the dumbest decision of his life.

Here goes nothing.

~~~~

Carrying another person's body while being critically injured is not an easy task Steve comes to learn. The beat he took today is none like one he's ever received thus far. Every brush of his arms makes him feel closer to an eventual collapse. He could just stop right here, but it's just his life that hangs in the balance if he gives up. He has to do this, for the both of them. Seeing shore in close proximity, Steve pushes his body into overdrive, overjoyed by the sight of land. He pushes the man onto his stomach in hopes that the water will find its way out of his lungs and onto the sand. The mission today was to create as few deaths as possible, and Steve won't let someone else die at his hands( at least not before they find out why he was after them in the first place). Ask questions first, take action later.

Steve lays on his back for what feels like an eternity, fighting off sleep and trying to gather his bearings. He can't die, at least not before making sure Nat and Sam are safe. There's too much hanging in the balance at this moment. After gaining some level of strength, Steve begins to crawl over to the unconscious man a few feet away. His organs feel like they might just drop onto the sand with every syllable he utters. Steve doesn't think he's ever been in this much pain before. This guy has to be a super soldier, he thinks to himself. How else could he be so strong?

"Man," he chuckles to himself while turning over the body, "you are unbelievably heavy. What do you weigh? A ton or someth--"

The rest of Steve's sentence dies in his throat at his eye's meet the mystery man's face. It can't be. No, that's not possible. He...he died...

"Bucky?" Steve can barely make a coherent thought, his brain is scattered like the Helicarrier debris in the ocean behind him.

"This isn't possible," Steve stands up abruptly, pacing back and forth across the lone beach.

I saw him die. I saw it. The rail snapped and he fell into the Danube River during the Zola mission. I saw it. Steve turns around the look at the face again. That's Buck, he knows it. Those crystal blue eyes are unrecognizable. Girls back in the day used to say that Bucky's eyes reminded them of the sky at daybreak, a blue that you'd give your life to drown in if he only let you. He could recognize his best friend's face in a crowd of millions, his features permanently stitched into the fabric of his mind. It's at this moment that their current situation begins to process. He has to save him. He can't die.

Steve runs to Bucky's body and begins to attempt to resuscitate him. He doesn't care if he collapses in the process. The most important person in his life is laying in front of him. If he dies, Steve might as well be dead too. He spent 70 years locked in ice and several years roaming this Earth believing his best friend died in that icy river. He can't give up now. Steve begins to pump Bucky's chest rapidly, so much so that he might break his chest cavity. He knows that he should be more careful, but he's desperate.

"Bucky, please!"

*pump*

"Buck! You can't die yet!"

*pump*

"James!" Tears begin to roll down Steve's cheeks and his throat becomes dry as he screams out for his best friend.

"James Buchanan Barnes, wake the fuck up! I need you!" He doesn't know what he'll do if this doesn't work. He can't even think of a world in which it doesn't, that's too heartbreaking. Steve would walk through fire, beds of glass shards and nails, just to talk to his best friend again. In an unfamiliar lonely world, he needed Bucky. And now he has him, but he might not get to keep him. Bucky was his lifeline when they were kids, the only person who saw him as an equal and didn't tease or belittle him for small stature. He made him feel seen. What Steve wouldn't give right now just to be perceived by him again.

*pump*

"James, Bucky, please. I need you..." Steve's voice is barely above a whisper at this point. His head feels like it weighs a thousand tons yet as light as a swaying feather in a cool summer breeze. The blood loss is getting to him. The tears floating down his cheeks begin to increase in speed, like a damn finally breaking open.

After several minutes of pumping and blowing air into his body, Steve's hands begin to slow down as reality starts to set in. There's no coming back from this. He spent years believing he died, drowning in that near frozen river. It's almost ironic come to think of it. Steve thought Bucky died by drowning, only for him to actually die several decades letter by Steve's hands--also by drowning.

"I killed my best friend.." Steve whispers into the atmosphere, like he doesn't want anyone to hear him say it. There's not a single person for miles, no one would hear him anyways.

Steve's throat begins to tighten, choking him as he breaks down. He begins to hyperventilate, desperate to take in any air that's willing to enter his lungs. But the panic and grief he's experiencing make it nearly impossible. He feels like his heart is going to give out, beating so rapidly that it might just jump from his chest cavity. "I did it. I killed my best friend."

Steve takes another look to the right of him, sobbing harder as his eyes confirm what he already knew. If Steve the pain he was experiencing earlier was bad, it's a needle prick compared to this agony. The world has stopping spinning, the earth's orbital path taking occupation in his head as thoughts and memories begin to make room for themselves at the forefront of his mind. Every shared sandwich, every homework answer, every laugh, every beating in an alleyway where Bucky came to save him, every night out dancing, has led to this one moment. It's over, it's all over. This is the end of the line.

#stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #captain america and the winter soldier #crying steve #til the end of the line

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gloves94 · 4 years

Text

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 9

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…” His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

Later that evening Tsai had returned to where the Avatar gang were spending their nights in. Katara had been tossing around in her sleeping bag complaining about not wanting to be in the healing class because she would've gathered be learning how to fight instead.

"All knowledge is power Katara,"Tsai uttered wisely as her grandfather would've said. She lightly played with her choker necklace at the memory of the man. "You never know, the healing techniques that you learn might actually come in handy in the future." She nodded.

"A difference?" Katara questioned popping her head on her palm with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Yeah," Aang suddenly commented. "I'm also very curious- how was it that you managed to get past all of those Fire Nation guards at the Pohuai stronghold? He asked.

Tsai lowered her head in an attempt to hide the smirk that slowly inched across her face. She tugged in her arms deeper into her sleeves mischievously.

"I'll keep my secrets," she said with a ghostly smile before turning away from them preparing to sleep. "I'll tell," she said. "But first I have a question," she turned to look at both Aang and Katara once again.

"Why does everybody here hate me?" She asked bluntly.

Aang and Katara exchanged a look of pure confusion.

"In the Water Tribe, I mean." She clarified.

"Tsai," Katara began to explain. "You're Fire Nation. You're their enemy. You're our enemy."

"But why?" She retorted leaning forward as she sat with her legs crossed. "The Fire Nation is and has always been the greatest nation!" She spoke with a sudden bold sense of nationalism. "We bringing our culture and goods to new lands because we want to share our greatness with the world. It would be selfish not to."

"WHAT?" Katara roared furious. Tsai flinched slightly at her explosive reaction. She was not expecting her to react in this way.

"That's what you think the Fire Nation is doing?" She snapped. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted you!" She exited her sleeping back and rose to her feet aggravated. Tsai did the same.

"The Fire Nation took everything away from me! My family, my mother!" She roared. Aang held her back. "Starting this war is just as great of a sacrifice for my nation! It's for the greater good."

"You killed my mother!" She screeched heaving.

Tsai dropped the argument at the accusation. Katara's eyes were wide. Her nostrils were swollen with hatred as her eyes zeroed on the aghast teen before her.

"Can't you see? The Fire Nation has done nothing for the world! Everywhere you go you spread war, hatred, fear, famine, death and pain! You tear families apart. Leave orphan children, widowed wives, wounded soldiers and for what? For greatness?" She spat.

"Katara!" Aang pleaded.

Tsai wasn't going to sit here and take this. She turned away with her jaw clenched and stormed out of the room.

"Tsai! Wait!" Aang called after her. "Where are you going?"

Katara huffed and exhaled a sharp breath before snuggling inside of her sleeping back once again. She punched her pillow angrily a handful of times.

"Tsai means well Katara," Aang said after a moment. "I know it. She's just-" He paused for a moment trying to find the proper words. "The daughter of a Fire Nation governor?"

Aang was quiet at Katara's silent response.

"She's Fire Nation Aang. She's evil. They are all the same. Don't forget."

Xxx

"Is your friend toying with me?" Sokka snapped as he walked back to where they were staying.

"What are you talking about?" Tsai asked confused not in the mood to be dealing with these types of situations.

"I don't understand her. I thought she liked me and now she's telling me to get lost. I don't get it!" He threw his hands up in the air confused. "That's odd," Tsai said. "She told me she really liked you earlier today."

"Is she playing games with me or something like that?"

Yue didn't seem like the type to play these games. And from what she had told Tsai earlier she seemed to genuinely like the Southern Water Tribe boy. She thought for a moment scratching her chin.

"I don't think so," She said not really wanting to engage in conversation in her foul mood after her fight with Katara.

"So what should I do?" He deadpanned.

Was he really asking her for advice?

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Just talk to her. Ask her how she really feels about you."

"Why do I have the feeling you think talking is the solution to everything," he sighed in defeat. "It's probably what my grandpa would've said," she smiled fondly at the memory of the man.

"That is- completely unhelpful," he grumbled and hid his face in his arm.

"Sometimes some things are lost in translation." She says wisely. He looked at her oddly, she suddenly get a sad look on her face. She looked at Sokka one last time before continuing on her trek to nowhere in particular.

Katara was wrong.

The Fire Nation was the greatest nation. The war was well intended. Together all united under one nation the world would thrive. All under the rule of fire.

She thought about her home, Yu Dao. It's history serving as testament of the Fire Nation's greatness. Under Fire Lord Azulon the Fire Nation had made a mecca of industry and commerce out of a nowhere town in the edges of the Earth Kingdom. The city had drowned and blossomed to be one of the most important in the world. That would've never happened without them. So if they were so great...

She looked at a couple who whispered and shied away from her scarring away.

A man walking spit at her feet.

Arnook did not welcome her like a hero would've been welcomed.

If they were so great- why were they so hated?

xxx

"Yue, I need to ask for a favor." Tsai asked the following morning. She hadn't slept in the same room as the Avatar and his friends. Instead she had found comfort outside the doors of the palace simply leaning against the snowy wall and barely sleeping through the cold night. She really hated the weather here.

"Anything," Yue smiled taking her hands in hers. Tsai didn't have time to ask about what had happened with Sokka. It's not like she cared either. She wasn't the nosy type. "I need you to get me an audience with your father."

Moments later Tsai had her audience.

She walked into the meeting room. One which like the entire tribe was made of snow falls which reached the skies. The ceiling was gone allowing for the clear weather and shinning sun to witness their meeting.

"Arnook," she bowed before him in respectful Fire Nation fashion which irked the leader to no end. "You're persistent," he barked.

"What do you want?" He asked impatiently.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tsai of Yu Dao. Yu Dao is-" he interrupted her. "I know what Yu Dao is!"

She paused for a moment. Knowing he would be difficult.

"I've come to you with a challenging question." She scrapped everything she had reserved. "Do you think.." She says slowly. "Do you think the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes will ever be able to work together as one?" She pondered.

"If you have come here to sheathe blood and bring darkness and war to my land I'm afraid that you've come to the wrong place," he threatened approaching her. The soldiers and other officials surrounding him raised their hands and weapons menacingly. A bead of sweat formed in her temple as she look at them. They were at least a dozen of them.

"Listen!" She snapped frustrated. "I did not choose where I was born. My mother is of Earth Kingdom descent, my father Fire Nation. Which makes me half of both. I cannot bend fire or earth-" once again he interrupted her.

"That only makes you a mutt." He said bitterly.

It was then that his eyes darted up in the sky. All of them did. She turned after a moment only to see what looked like black snow snowing above them. The girl had never seen snow before, let alone black one. It took her a moment to realize that it was ash raining above them. Which could only mean one thing.

"You have lead them to us!" Arnook pointed accusingly. "Arrest her!"

"No. I have no idea how they found us!" She denied the dangerous accusation.

Tsai tried running. She tried fighting but before she could move an inch was frozen still to the ground in ice.

xxx

The girl was thrown into jail. She didn't know how long she had been in there. It must've been more than a day. Unbeknown to her Yue pleaded with her father. Pleaded with all of her wish and power to let her out. She tried explaining it was a coincidence and that she believed in the Fire Nation girl's honesty, but Arnook would not see to it.

The cell was cold as ice which had her shivering in the corner alone hugging herself in an attempt to retain some of her body's warmth. In her time in jail she felt a terrible headache. One which she felt could've split her forehead in half. Looking out the window she noted that an ominous light as red as her hair crept in. Holding on to her temples in pain she looked out and saw that the full moon had been tinted a color of crimson red blood. She starred eyes wide when she suddenly heard a sudden crash nearby.

Shocked she took cover before a market stall was thrown at the wall making it collapse. Setting her free.

"Well.. That was lucky," she mused as she carefully snuck out of the gaping hole that had been made by the crash. Creeping on her toes she slid down a hill of snow to the streets of the Northern Water tribe with only one objective in her mind. Escaping. She didn't realize where she was falling to and fell into a freezing stream of water. The icy North Pole water felt like a thousand knives nipping at her body from all over.

She had to get out of here fast. As she ran the moon shifted color as the air became colder, the air darker as all color seemed to be drained from the world. She hadn't stopped to wonder just what thing could've thrown such a heavy cart at such a distance when a monstrous creature in the figure of a glowing fish rose from the depth of the waters. It attacked all Fire Nation as it stormed through the village.

She cursed as she avoided it. Noting it was mainly attacking the invading Fire Nation troops that had descended on the Water Tribe's village. If she got near it, it would probably lead to her demise.

Whatever that thing was- She saw fire balls being aimed and fired at the creature which advanced unaffected - whatever was going on - it was not good. There was no time to say goodbye to her friend Yue. To converse with the Avatar. She had to get out.

Tsai continued on her dash towards the docks when she slid around a corner and looking over her shoulder teeth chattering she turned and crashed into something hard. She reached for her head as she tripped over her feet and fell to the ground on her bottom. She looked up and saw a pair of angry eyes glaring daggers at her. Oh, she had crashed into somebody.

"You," the man growled dangerously.

It was that son of a bitch Zhao.

She staggered to her feet but wasn't fast enough. Zhao was fast and his meaty hand claws around her neck with a deathly grip. He had obviously taken the night of the Blue Spirit at the Pohuai Fortress a little too personally.

She coughed struggling to gasp for breath when a third party stumbled upon the scene. Zuko walked into what seemed like the worst surprise of his life. Zhao turned to look at him maliciously.

"One step and I'll make sure your pretty girlfriend has a scar to match yours." He threatened.

Zuko's jaw clenched, he gritted his back molars in anger and frustration. He saw Tsai struggling to breath coughing for breath as her face slowly turned blue. He had to do something. Anything.

"So- tell me, what was your plan? You went in and distracted me and the Blue Spirit did all the dirty work?" He chuckled as he squeezed his grip on the girl's neck. He was holding her up above her feet so that they saw eye to eye. He suddenly dropped her and she gasped and coughed for air the color returning to her face. He turned her and kept a firm grip around her as he slowly retreated out of the scene.

His terrible breath pricked at her skin as he kept his arm wrapped around her body holding her in place.

"It's going to be interesting to find out what could've happened between us that night-" He whispered that and other filth into her ear.

"You're sick!" She growled out at the older man as she struggled against his deathly grip still shivering as she was soaked to the bone.

Zuko was ready to fire. He aimed his hand twitching slightly. His heart was pounding in his rib cage. One wrong move and it was over. He only had one shot before things went South. Zhao continued advancing over a snow bridge. He was going to get away! The girl struggled, her breathing loud as it became harder and harder to breath with every step the admiral gave. It was then that her eyes met his and he saw something familiar in them.

He understood and lowered his hand. Her body was trembling from the cold. Zuko lowered his guard and it was then that he saw offensive. Two silver blades crept our from her long sleeves and in one swift fluid motion she punctured Zhao's arm and Zuko swore he saw the blade go through his hand. The man screamed in pain. She twisted her torso and managed to guide the burning flame in his other arm to the sky missing her by mere inches. She took a sharp breath and ducked with skilled training. She used all the strength in her legs to push away from him. Her body collapsing to the snowy ground. Zhao held his arm put again ready to attack. However lost his footing when she twisted kicking him off his feet smoothly. Without hesitation Zuko stepped in and blasted Zhao away in a fiery dance.

Wounded and miserable the man collapsed to the ground in the middle of the snow bridge.

Massively monstrous blue hands suddenly struck out from the water and clawed at the top surrounding the admiral in a deathly capture. Zuko and Tsai managed to roll away from the monster claws as to their horror witnessed the admiral being dragged away to a watery grave. Tsai glared with eyes narrowed. Zuko was the better person and stretched out his hand in aid. For a second it looked like Zhao was going to take it but the prideful man turned away.

And just like that he was gone. Color returned to the world and it seemed like a glance had returned to the world. Zuko stepped back and saw the red-head shivering a couple of feet away from him. Her teeth chattering. He looked at her and her at him and she couldn't believe how happy she was to see him. To see somebody from home, someone familiar.

"Zuko!" She spoke in a low voice through violent shakes. Now having her she got a good look at his face and noticed the many new scars and wounds that decorated his face. She was about to ask what had happened during her short absence.

"What-" She was left with the words in her mouth when he wrapped his arms around her hugging her in a tight embrace. He almost sighed. Relieved that she was okay. That they had found each other again.

She stood before him sharp hidden blades unsheathed, shocked, shivering, soaked to the coldest bone. It took her a moment of hesitation before hugging him back just as tightly.

"I'm so happy to see you," the words left her mouth before she could process them. She hadn't even realized that she had started to cry. She buried her face on his shoulder. He was warm. He was the piece of home she had been missing. Right now, he was comfort.

"You're freezing," he said taking her hands in his as she retracted her hidden blades. He said nothing. Simply held her icy hands in his and brought them close to his lips breathing a hot air into them slowly warming her back.

She didn't even know why she was crying at this point. She smiled at him endearingly and wiped a stray tear from her. Everything was just too much to handle right now. Way too overwhelming.

"Let's get out of here." He said to her.

She wiped her tears as they escaped the icy tundra.

xxx

They met up with Iroh and Tsai sprinted hard running into his arms hugging him tightly. He hugged her back almost like a missing child and she repeatedly apologized for leaving without saying goodbye. He simply cupped her face with a hand and told her she did the right thing.

"I feel like you're at the crossroads once again Tsai, " Iroh said wisely tucking in both of his hands inside of his sleeves. "I wonder what road you'll take." He said ominously.

She raised an eyebrow confused at his riddle and shook his head.

"Let's just go home," she sighed. "I want to go back to Yu Dao. I think I'm going to be sick." She shivered not wanting to linger in this icy Neverland for another minute.

"Very well." Iroh said understandably. The man insisted on leaving on a makeshift raft boar which the girl refused to get on endlessly. Having been lost at sea for so many dies and almost dying from starvation she refused to put herself through the whole thing again. So instead they stole a slightly larger boat. One from a Water Tribe fisherman.

"They owe me," she grumbled. "That's for throwing me in that cold pit." She said bitterly as she remembered her brief stay in the icy prison cell. She hadn't even done anything!

And so they sailed away. Iroh explained to Tsai everything that had happened. Zhao killing the moon spirit. Yue becoming the moon spirit. The attack. The Avatar becoming one with the same spirit and taking down the fire nation. It had been a loaded day. He reasoned that it was probably the best that she had spent the day in jail for her own safety.

"You're really sure about returning back home?" Iroh asked.

Tsai snapped back into the conversation feeling distraught by her friend Yue's demise into the spirit world. "Sure," She mumbled. "Why not? I don't want to keep on 'getting in the way.'" She glared at a certain scarred prince who looked like he had the worst headache of his life.

"I'm concerned as your status as a traitor to the Fire Nation," Iroh stroked his beard wisely. "But that's a problem for when we arrive back to the mainland," he smiled at her warmly.

"You shouldn't have done that!" Zuko suddenly snapped in a scolding tone. "That stunt at the Pohuai Fortress? What were you thinking!" He sounded almost worried. Tsai misses the slight smirk that is growing on Iroh's face as he looks at them from the side.

"Hey! I freed the Avatar for you! Do you should be thanking me!" She shot back. "If I hadn't done that you'd be sitting in your room right now sulking with your arms crossed over your chest angrily meditating like an idiot."

"I don't sulk!" The other shot back slightly embarrassed and reached for her arm

"Also- may I remind you that Admiral Zhao is disgusting company. Interacting with him was definitely not pleasant," she raised both of her eyebrows eyes holding a little horror in them at the awful memory. It was then that he realized that he was holding on to her lower arm. He raised it up and her sleeves rolled back which exposed her secret weapon. He scrutinized over it looking at the arm braces she wore with the hidden blade mechanism.

Zuko would've never admit it outlaid but this was way more simple than what he had expected. Mind reading, secret bending, being a blood thirsty vampire demon, and super natural powers all came to him in his theories of how Tsai had gotten in an out of the stronghold with such ease.

"I'm glad to see your grandfather's hidden blades are in good hands," Iroh commented with a knowing smile.

"You knew about this Uncle?"

Iroh simply smiled a mischievous glint on his amber eyes.

"My grandfather taught me how to fight," she admitted reaching to touch the sunstone necklace she wore. "But I refuse to unless it's necessary. You see it can be quite deadly."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Zuko asked.

"I guess I didn't want you to think I was... weird." She said looking away slightly embarrassed.

"I....think it's cool," he said sharing the same tone after a moment. "Really?" She turned to look at him beaming. This only caused his cheeks to redden even more.

Iroh chuckled.

Zuko sighed and threw his hands up in the air not wanting to further have this conversation. "I'm tired." He declared.

"Youre not going to chase the Avatar?" Iroh asked.

"No- I'm tired." he repeated as he collapsed on the ship.

"A man needs his rest. Besides, Tsai and I have some much needed catching up to do." Iroh winked in her direction and she winked back.

They certainly did.

xxxx

AN: Your lovely thoughts? Phew and that's the end of Book 1, now onto what's next. Chapter 8 and Chapter 9 were originally one really long chapter so I decided to split them into 2. Also I have the story written until chapter 26 but as I keep editing and rewriting for posting I have made so many changes and I am loving how the story is unfolding.

Much love - G

xxx

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CHAPTER MASTERLIST

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avaria-revallier · 4 years

Text

Chapter 7: A soft landing

Chapter 1 -start here

Chapter 6

Bella hurried back to the clearing as fast as her injured leg would let her. The bag with the herbs pressed against her aching ribcage.

When she reached the clearing she could only spot Dwalin and Nori. The thief was about to leave while Dwalin only stared at his back with an unidentifiable expression. Did she miss something?

“Dwalin? What happened?” she asked from behind him, feigning ignorance.

Of course Gandalf had showed up. The trolls turned to stone and the others were on their way to inspect the troll hoard. They wouldn’t have much time to rest. Maybe a few hours before Radagast turned up and with him the orcs and wargs. Luckily, she had already grabbed her backpack when she fetched the herbs.

“Bella! Let me get Oin to check you over. Where does it hurt? Come here, sit for a moment! Are you thirsty? Shall I get you some water?” Dwalin grabbed the bag from her arms and gently nudged her to a log nearby.

“I am fine, really. Just bring me to the others. We are no longer safe here.” Determined, Bella grabbed onto her brother's forearm.

She was half leaning on him and half dragging him into the direction Nori went off to earlier. Bella was right, he realised. They were no longer safe. If the trolls had come down from the mountains then even the main road was no longer safe.

Together they made their way toward the cave Fili and Kili had spotted. Gloin and Nori were busy burying a small chest. A smile stole itself on her lips. That small stinking chest had given her quite the headache back in Shire. So much gossip over such a small amount of gold. This was nothing compared to the treasure hall of Erebor.

Sitting down near the entrance, she held her face up in the sunshine. The warmth made her forget the pain in her body for a while.

A shadow fell over her and as she opened her eyes she stared directly into the deep blue eyes of the dwarven king. Bella took her time examining his face. He would look so much better with a smile on his face. Instead, he was frowning once again.

“How may I help you, master Oakenshield?” giving her best not to wince while standing up she asked him with a steady voice.

This whole situation was new for her. The dwarven king had never really cared for or about her before. He had even wanted to leave her with lord Elrond! Truly strange… Well, it might have been her fault as well as she had stuck to Gandalf for the better part of their travels before and only kept whining about her home and all the comforts she had to leave behind. How shameful of her! They had lost their homes and hadn’t left them willingly.

A pang of guilt hit her stomach. She had been so wrong in the past. This was a good enough reason to improve the present. She would have to improve herself to change their fate and hers at well.

“Well,” he started, averting his look from her intensive staring, “Here! Just take it… Might be your size.” He rumbled low while shoving a small leather sheath in her arms.

Sting. He had found her trusted traveling companion. The small sword lay reassuringly in her palm.

“Thank you.” she breathed.

Joy flooded her heart and mind. Later, she would blame her further actions on her brain malfunctioning at that very moment.

“Thank you so much, Thorin!” lunging forward, she embraced the stern king, giving him a big kiss on his cheek before happily making her way towards the grey wizard.

Thorin stood there. Petrified. Did she just? She did… She…

A muffled snicker followed by the thudding sound of a hand colliding with the back of a head confirmed his fear. She did!

‘Oh Mahal! This was more than confusing. Were hobbits such affectionate beings? Yes, that must be the case. She would have done the same for every other member of the company,’ his own train of thoughts made him angry.

“Nori! Gloin! Hurry up!” he grunted down the cave, turning his back at his nephews.

Those two rascals were still snickering and hiding the fact rather poorly. Bofur on the other hand laughed openly. Dwalin looked at him as if he had been the one kissing the lass. Mahal, how the burglar had already changed his cousin.

Dori, Ori and Gloin returned, having packed their rations and gear. Sadly, only four ponies and Gandalf's horse were left. The rest must have bolted when they had been busy fighting and, well… trying not to get eaten.

He would have to tell Ori once again to leave the record for this day blank! He wouldn’t need to be reminded of the shame when he had to cry out that they had parasites…

A crashing sound and loud cursing made him draw his sword and whirl around to face the possible threat head on.

Bella smiled. It had been ages since she had seen the brown wizard. He was still the same Radagast she remembered. A bit skittish, but full of love for the animals around him. The rabbits pulling his sled had always fascinated her. Curious, she stepped nearer. One of them lifted its head, looking into her eyes.

The dwarrows were still discussing whether to trust the newcomer or not. Sure, Radagast might have made quite the entrance, screaming and cursing, and the stick insect in his mouth along with the nest in his hair were rather off-putting, but he was a kind soul and not one to be corrupted.

The rabbit nuzzled its head into her hand and after a short while she was surrounded by the furry lot. They were gentle as if they knew of her injuries. Suddenly, the ears of their leader perked up and his nose twitched nervously. The wargs. How could she forget that?!

“Watch out!” she managed to scream, before the first ugly monster broke through the bushes and launched at Thorin.

It was killed quickly and now everyone shifted their attention towards the approaching enemy. Well, not all the attention. Gandalf shouted at Thorin and Thorin shouted back at Gandalf demanding to know who else would have known about their quest. She saw the look the leader of the company gave her. It made her heart freeze.

“I will draw them off!” Radagst offered.

“These are Gundabad wargs!” Gandalf warned his friend.

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I’d like to see them try!” the brown wizard puffed proud.

They ran and hid. The ponies were nervous and Bella's heart pounded against her damaged rib cage like it had been doing once long ago. This was exciting and nerve-wrecking, but it made her feel alive!

At the very moment when Thorin nodded at Kili to shoot the approaching warg together with its rider, Bella nearly jumped out herself. She was more than ready to take on the enemy once again. Dwalin held her back by gently grabbing her arm. He was right. Kili could handle this. He was an amazing archer and a great fighter. He needed this experience to grow. It would be good for him.

“Where are you leading us?” she could hear Thorin’s whispered question towards Gandalf.

Thorin surely wouldn’t like the answer and Gandalf knew this fact as did Bella, so he kept silent. They came closer towards the large rock formation that marked the entrance to the secret passageway into the hidden valley. Well, the last few hundred meters were open terrain. There was no way to hide anymore. Running would be the only option.

She prepared herself mentally for the pain that soon would be raging in her entire body. Each step had sent a wave of pain through her body, but the occasional breaks while they were hiding made it easier to catch her breath. The last part on the other hand would be not as forgiving. Maybe they would be lucky and lord Elrond would suddenly appear, together with his hunters.

Taking a deep breath, she readied herself to sprint whenever Thorin would give the signal. Without a warning, two tattooed arms lifted her off the ground and placed her on the last remaining pony.

“Why d-” Thorin's signal interrupted her question.

Kili and Fili slapped the frightened pony to encourage the poor thing to run even faster. Howls, barks and several orders cried out in black speech followed, leaving the rabbit sled alone.

The pony was definitely faster than she would have ever been on foot, injured or not. Still, it was way too frightening to break through the two wargs ahead, let alone blindly jump into a small opening between the stones. Panicked, the steed looked around, searching for a way out. A warg used this chance to jump at them, its jaw wide open. In a split second, the pony decided between being eaten by a warg and jumping into a cave, the cave being the winning option.

The sudden movement made Bella lose her grip and she slipped off of the back of the pony, landing on her backside. An arrow flew past her, grazing the warg’s ear. This distraction gave her enough time to scramble back onto her feet and limp as fast as she could towards the passageway.

Kili cursed while Fili changed his direction, running past her. Thorin cursed as well, but far more creatively than his nephew. Dwalin roared while swinging his battle axes. ‘How she had missed this before?’ she wondered, Bombur and Bifur had already vanished into the opening. Bofur helped Ori and Dori while Nori sent another one of his knives flying before jumping down as well. Balin had the nerve to lecture his brother not to be reckless and ‘cut the crap while you are still able to’. Oin and Gloin must also already be down there as she could hear them shouting for the others to come down.

Dwalin turned around, a grim expression on his face, grabbed Kili and Fili, each on one arm and jumped down as well. Thorin was still waiting for her at the entrance, his sword ready. Bella quickened her speed and prompt stumbled, falling into the dwarven kings arms and pulling him down with her.

She landed rather soft on top of Thorin. Her eyes tightly shut, she didn’t dare to move. Carefully, she opened her eyes slightly, only to look into the King's face. It was rather dark in the cave. She wasn't able to make out the expression on his face. In a rather poor attempt to separate herself from Thorin, Bella placed her hands on his chest. She tried not to think too much about how muscular he was. Slowly, she started to separate herself from him, wiggling around trying to find a position that wouldn’t hurt too much. Bella tried not to put any weight on her injured legs or any other parts of her that were hurting. Well, the only part not hurting at the moment was her head, but she could feel a headache rising.

Two big, strong hands on her hips made it impossible for her to move any further. The dwarven King had held her down in this rather shameful position.

Thorin took this chance to search her body for injuries. He grunted, displeased as she flinched under his touch. Somehow it made the King angry to see her hurt. And somehow, it felt nice to have her near. Bella started shifting again. She didn't know what exactly she was supposed to feel at this particular moment. It felt great to be able to be so close to him. But at the same moment, she felt a pang in her heart. This was not her Thorin. And this was not right.

She opened her mouth, ready to give him a piece of her mind when a growl from behind interrupted her. In the first second, she thought it was a warg, but then the growl evolved into a wave of dwarven curses spoken in Khuzdul. Gently, two arms wrapped around her from behind, easily lifting her up from Thorin. She recognised the tattoos on the arms. The warmth on her hips disappeared. Her body reacted to the sudden cold with a shiver while her heart winced to be separated from her One.

Her brother held her protectively in his arms, standing with his back towards his king and putting himself between her and Thorin. She knew that dwarrows were protective, but she never thought that Dwalin would defy his king. This was a completely new experience for her. She didn't want to be in between the two of them, she didn't want to be in between anything. If she hadn't known what would have come next, maybe she would have stayed with Lord Elrond.

A furry body slid down into the cave, taking all the unwanted attention of her and presenting a way for Thorin to hide his embarrassment.

How in the world could he have let down his guard in such a critical moment? His palms still felt the softness of her body. There was something familiar in the way they touched, but he was quite sure he had never seen the hobbit lass before. Still, when Dwalin separated her from him, he wouldn't have liked anything better than punching his best friend in the face and getting back what belonged to him.

To get his mind off those strange thoughts, he shifted his attention towards the dead warg. An arrow was plunged into the throat of the monster. Separating the arrow from the body, he inspected it.

“Elves!” he spat out.

As if to answer his angry grunting, the sound of a horn broke through the cries from outside. The company started fidgeting nervously, looking for a way out. Up and out of the cave was not an option and Thorin nearly sighed with relief when Bofur shouted that there was another way. It was a narrow pass seemingly leading deeper into the mountain, but it was rather bright, so maybe, just maybe, they had a chance.

The passageway was too narrow for Dwalin to both carry Bella and fit through it himself at the same time. So, he had no other possibility than to walk behind her, lending her a helping hand and steadying her whenever she staggered. Whenever he wasn’t fast enough to catch her and, as a result, she would crash into a stone wall with a hollow thump, he would wince. Not being able to help her nearly drove him insane. His mood dropped with every passing second.

Seeing how Thorin looked at her with that worried, sad and longing look made him angrily clench his fists. He had no right to ogle his sister like that!

“It is as beautiful as I remembered.” She mumbled under her breath.

Dwalin wouldn’t have heard it if Thorin hadn’t lifted his head as soon as she opened her mouth. Both of them looked at each other in confusion. Had they heard right?

In front of them, a beautiful valley lay. The valley of Imladris where the last homely house was. The tattooed warrior grumbled a curse in the wizard’s direction. To guide them right towards those damned elves! Thorin seemed to have the same thoughts. He finally stopped looking at Bella and glowered at the grey-hatted man.

Why must dwarrows be so bloody stubborn, wary and suspicious of each and every person they meet?! Bella had found herself in the middle of a small circle built out of muscles, sharp axes and rumbling growls. She could only shake her head at their overprotective behaviour. Lord Elrond would have never allowed harm to befall his guests. Here, in the last homely house, they would be just as safe as in Beorn's hut. A smile lightened up her face as she thought of the large man who was gentler than anyone could have ever imagined.

She shifted her attention back when the sound of a horn sounded in the distance once more, announcing the return of the elven king. The circle tightened around her even more. Gandalf watched their actions with amusement and when Bella locked eyes with him he chuckled at her distressed expression.

Thorin muttered something to Dwalin, too quietly for her to understand. But the two dwarves nodded in grim agreement, not letting the elves out of sight.

Lord Elrond returned with his hunters not a second too late. Lindir seemed a bit troubled by the gruff and dirty company that appeared on their doorstep. Led by Gandalf the Grey of all people! The exchange of greetings, compliments and courtesies gave Bella a chance to remember the lessons of elven language she had all those years before.

“Lord Elrond, it is good to see you again. May I request to visit your infirmary?” fighting her way out, she glared at Fili and Kili trying to pull her back.

The dark-haired elf lifted one brow at her request spoken in elvish. The pronunciation was not bad and gave evidence that she had been learning the language for quite some time. Lord Elrond looked at Gandalf. It was a long, questioning look. The wizard only shrugged and searched his pockets for his pipe weed.

“Of course, little one. But you have to promise me to tell me all the exciting details of your journey over dinner. We hadn’t had a hobbit here in forever, and especially not one traveling with the dwarves, no less.” He smiled, waving Lindir over.

The king’s attendant picked her up with ease, earning a surprised and an acknowledging squeak from the hobbit and an angry uproar from the company. Threats, insults and crude curses were thrown at the elves until Gloin stormed forward, swinging his weapon to daunt the elf holding Bella. It didn’t work. Lindir only looked down at Gloin with an unchanged countenance.

“Food,” Bella hurried to say, “he offered us to stay for dinner, freshen up a bit and rest.”

The adrenalin slowly vanished from her system. The pain returned, stronger than before, and Bella wished for nothing more than a hot bath, a change of clothes, some food and a soft bed.

Dwalin stepped forward in an intimidating manner. He pushed Gloin aside and straightened his back. With his arms crossed, he looked up and, in his eyes, she could see the gleam of an idea. The idea to kick Lindir into the hollow of the knee and snatch her from his arms.

“What are you planning to do with my sister, elf?” his voice was deep and threatening.

Lindir only raised an eyebrow, looking down he smiled coldly, “If you happened to notice, your ‘sister’ is seriously injured.”

Dwain’s hands twitched as if he wanted to deliver the first punch. Right in that moment Fili and Kili appeared on each side of the warrior. They looked determined.

“We will come with you.” Fili decided, while Kili nodded agreeing, “Can’t let you alone with them!”

Bella smiled. It was not convincing and far away from reassuring, but from her position, held by Lindir, she was finally taller than all of the members of the company. They looked worried up to her, big pleading eyes and protective sternness in their faces. They meant it, she realized. Tears started to fill her eyes, not out of pain, but happiness. Even Thorin fidgeted from one leg onto the other, trying his best to not meet her eyes. He stared at Lord Elrond, but still observed her out of the corner of his eye.

“That is very sweet of you, but I do prefer to bathe alone,” Bella chuckled.

Her chuckle quickly changed into a cough and a few drops of blood blemished Lindir’s perfectly white robes. The elf frowned displeased down at her. With a sharp nod towards his king, he hurried off to the healing quarters, taking her with him. Over Lindir’s shoulder, Bella could catch a glimpse of Thorin’s expression. Was that jealousy hidden behind the usual frown?

Chapter 8

@stuckupstucky

General things:

If you want me to tag you as well, please just send me a message.

If you like what you have read consider reblogging my story for others to enjoy too.

I am always open for asks and requests for shorts of our favorite dwarrows!

#thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #king thorin #middle earth #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin fanfiction #Thilbo #bilbo baggins #female Bilbo #thorin x bilbo #bella baggins

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too-many-baes · 5 years

Text

The Life of a Hunter: Part 2

Part One: [x]

Pairing: fem!reader x Dean Winchester

Warning(s): kidnapping, blood, mentions of death, angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.5K

Request: OMFG Part two of the life of a hunter please! - by @jessicas-underground

A/N: Here it is, I hope the sequel lives up to the wait! Please tell me how you liked it!

Masterlist Requests Open

**************

Days turn into weeks, and weeks fade into forgettable months. You push yourself to make it through each day, weighed down by memories and ghosts of a life you used to live. Ever since you’d left life was dull. Colours seemed black and white, whenever you heard a rock song you had the overwhelming compulsion to turn off the radio or block your ears. Life post-Dean was difficult, far more than it ever was before him. You were sure you used to have hobbies and friends but now everything felt empty, enjoyments of past long forgotten.

You had seen a job vacancy at the small library of an in-between town you were drifting through and decided to stop and apply, and there you’d stayed since. The work was easy with next to no one ever checking anything out. At least if nothing else you had a routine now. Library, diner, home. Day in and day out you stuck to that routine, desperately clinging to the normalcy you’d managed to instil.

It’s a dull day, like all the others before. You stand in the never browsed medical section, taking each book off and dusting the shelves. Anything to keep you busy. The faint ding of the doorbell marking someone’s entrance chimed but you paid it no mind, picking up a large armful of books to bring to the counter for inspection.

A collision so hard you almost drop all your books stops you in your path as two large hands reach out to steady you.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going”, you look up at the tall man before you and any words he had left to say completely vanished, “Y/N?” You can’t help a smile spreading over your face.

“Sam, what are you doing here?” You couldn’t believe the chances of seeing a familiar face in your small town, but you welcomed it. He looks around to check for other people, of which you knew there were none, before placing your books down for you and dragging you to a corner.

“We’re tracking a Rugaru and we’re pretty sure that it stopped here.” You raise your eyebrows in disbelief to which he solemnly nods at you. You think you can recall seeing something about dead bodies a couple of towns over but in your zombie-like stupor you had paid it no mind. “In this little town? Why would it stop here?” “It’s an inconspicuous place, seems a lot of drifters pass through, easy way to get some people maybe no one will miss.” You nod along with his sentence, trying hard not to focus on how much his brief description sounded like you. “Anyway, what are you doing here?” You shrug at his question before motioning back over to the desk that holds your discarded books. “I work here now…” You say, your sentence trailing off out of embarrassment. You didn’t mind small town life when alone, but now being confronted with someone you knew the reality of how you’ve been living comes crashing into you. You see no judgement in his eyes though as he nods at you. “So this is where you’ve been the whole time, huh?” His question glinting with humour makes you want to recoil into yourself at the allusion to when you left. “Yea pretty much.” You say looking around the small, familiar space.

After a long awkward silence that neither of you know how to fill Sam clears his throat. “I should get going, Dean’s waiting for me at th-” “Dean?” You barely get the name out past your restricted throat, not even realising you’d interrupted him in the process. In your excitement at seeing Sam you had momentarily forgotten that it meant the other Winchester wouldn’t be far behind him. Your palms become sweaty and your head spins like a carousel. “He’s here?” Sam nods, knowing you knew the answer before you asked.

“You know, he’s really been missing you Y/N.” That’s all it takes for you to be done, what was initially a happy encounter turned sour in an instant. “It was really nice seeing you Sam.” You collect your stack of books, making to return them to their shelf, having forgotten what you got them down for. You hear his feet shuffling but refuse to look at him again. “We’re staying at the motel a block over. If you wanted to know”, he says dejectedly before the bell above the door signals his exit and a chance for you to calm yourself. You’d only seen Sam and your heart was racing, making the idea of bumping into Dean almost unimaginable. You would have to keep your head down the next few days, maybe even call in sick lest Sam should tell Dean where you work.

The day goes by in a blur, but much more of a scattered one than usual with you dropping things and forgetting the tasks you’d set out to do. You were the last one left and had to lock up for the day, stumbling through procedure and heading home. You felt like a drink. You felt like getting so drunk that you’d pass out and forget the whole day ever happened, but the chances of Dean being at the only bar in town were too high to risk that.

As you’re walking down the back street you take to your little rented cottage you feel like eyes are following your every move. You shake it off as residual paranoia and continue until the sound of someone else’s echoing footsteps stop you in your tracks. The world is silent again, the whistles of the crisp breeze the only thing that catches your ears. Geez, you think as you set off again, seeing Sam really rattled you.

Just as you’d convinced yourself of this a large, strong arm grabs you around your torso as a hand clamps a rag over your mouth. You try to yell out as you writhe and jerk in an attempt to escape but no sound makes it past and you’re unable to loosen your assailant’s grip. Your vision gets blurry and you lose consciousness to the sound of someone shushing you far too close to your ear.

The smell of rust and moss fill your nostrils as the sound of jangling chains and the slow steady drip of water drifts through your ears. You can’t see straight at first but as the black edges disappear from your vision you see you’re in a cave. You scrunch your eyebrows having no idea where you could be, your town having no caves that you were aware of. In saying that, you could hardly say you’d ever been exploring.

“Hey, are you awake?” The question surprises you as you were unaware of there being anyone else in the dank space. You try to turn around and become painfully aware that your arms are suspended above you, the rusty chains biting your skin as you manage to step around enough to face the voice. You vaguely recognize the girl also suspended, her name tag reading ‘Jaycee’ telling you she works at the diner.

“What the fuck is going on?” She spits out, frustratingly tugging on her restraints, a grimace plastered on her face.

“I have no idea”, you say, looking around for any clues on your location or how to get out. “I was on my way home and I got jumped, didn’t even see his face.”

“I was throwing out trash behind work, I didn’t see him either.” Both of you in the same predicament, you try and do all you can to escape, none of either of your attempts coming to fruition.

Echoing footsteps halt both of your actions and quicken your heart beat. You’re not sure what you were expecting but the ordinary looking man in the maroon button down certainly wasn’t it. If you couldn’t tell there were blood stains coating the front of his shirt and pants you never would have given him a second glance.

“Awake I see”, he says, a sinister smirk spread out enough to see his blood stained teeth, “this is going to be fun.” He claps his hands together, rubbing them maniacally.

“Look, if it’s money you want I don’t have any. If you just let me go I won’t tell anyone, I swear!” You don’t bother echoing Jaycee’s pleas, your time with the Winchesters teaching you that this was no ordinary man in front of you and money was most certainly not what he was after. Her eyes are frantic, looking over at you in confusion at your calm exterior. Make no mistake, your pulse was racing so fast that had the chains cut your skin you’re sure you would have bled out. You know your situation is futile. You can only assume that this is the Rugaru Sam had mentioned but even if you’d had silver bullets or magic knives you wouldn’t have known which to use. You wanted to cry and scream and plead like Jaycee, but you refuse to give the creature before you the satisfaction.

“BE QUIET!” His scream makes the both of you jolt, stopping Jaycee’s ramblings instantly. “Much better.” He takes slow calculated steps around both of you, examining you inch by inch before standing in front of you both and tapping his fingers against his chin. “I simply can’t decide which of you to eat first.” He steps towards Jaycee, grabbing a lock of her blonde hair. She jerks her face away, refusing to look at him. “Do I be good and start with the main course?” He then walks over to you, squeezing your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, shifting your head from side to side. “Or do I go straight for dessert?”

Jaycee begins her vocal onslaught again, yelling and cursing, screaming at the top of her lungs for help. He looks over at her then back to you, tsk-ing and releasing your cheeks. “Well you are just too fucking annoying, aren’t you?” He saunters to in front of Jaycee, making his face level with hers. She takes the chance to spit at him, “Fuck you creep.” He sniggers humourlessly at this as he runs his hand over his face. “That does it.” His jaw opens revealing a huge set of gnarled vicious teeth. This time it’s your turn to yell. You scream out of fear for the girl beside you when two loud gun shots sound, the creature jerking as each bullet landed in his back.

“Hey ugly, over here!” An animalistic snarl shoots from the beings throat as he spins around and takes off down the dark bend away from view. “Did he get you?” Jaycee shakes her head at you, quelling worries that she might turn into one even though you’re not sure whether that’s possible. More shots can be heard, the sound ricocheting into your space, then hurried footsteps rapidly approaching. It’s too much for you. You turn your body away and squeeze your eyes shut so as not to face the approaching form.

“Is everyone okay in here?” That voice. You’d recognize it anywhere. Gruff and low, yet capable of being soft and full of sentiment. You barely hear Jaycee speak before the rattling of her chains break you from your honey voice induced coma. You look up just as she wraps him in a desperate hug, reluctantly releasing him as he pulls away to free you. He begins walking over when he looks up and falters. You feel ridiculous. You were able to maintain outward composure in the face of life threatening danger, yet one look from the eyes you’ve been missing for months is enough to make you come undone. Tears spring forth and, try as you might, not a sound can make it past your throat.

“Y/N?” Tears slide down your cheeks as your name passed his lips. Mistaking your tears for something else he rushes in front of you, placing his calloused hands on your cheeks as he scans your face and then quickly your body. “Are you hurt? Did he bite you?” His voice is stern yet laced with an urgent kind of worry. “Did he bite you?” He repeats, firmer this time as his prior question failed to get a response. You shake your head at him, giving him the kick he needed to take you down from your hanging position, you rubbing your wrists as soon as they’re free.

There’s a hundred things Dean wants to do in this moment, ninety-nine of them involving you and only you. He has more pressing matters though, and as the terrified Jaycee latches onto his arm, he extends his free hand to you. You take it without question, “Let’s get you girls outta here.”

The tunnels are long and dark, every small sound eliciting yelps from Dean’s leech. He lets her cling to him, using every chance he gets to look at you through his peripheral vision, watching how you’re silent yet scared, and how your hand shakes in his.

As you round a corner that leads to the light outside, the beastly human rounds the bend, shortly followed by Sam holding something in his hands. “GET DOWN.” Dean seems to know what’s coming as he grabs Jaycee and you, laying on the ground so his body is atop yours, his hands holding either of your heads down.

Heat fans over top of you, the stench of burning flesh filling the air as the Rugaru lets out a howling screech. Silence and a smouldering corpse replaces the space that the creature had charged into. Dean stands, Jaycee rising with him still latched to his arm. He extends a hand out to you which you ignore this time, standing up of your own volition and dusting yourself off. “You’re bleeding.” You raise your hand to where he had motioned on your forehead and sure enough it comes away red. “I’ll fix it at home.”

Sam swoops in and sets everything into motion, ensuring Jaycee’s secrecy and helping Dean to dispose of the body. Against her pouts and hinting, it is Sam that escorts a rather disappointed Jaycee home after she slips her number to Dean on a bit of paper. He had half-heartedly accepted it, glancing at you as he had to find a face barren of emotion. You had left him, it would be selfish of you to show you cared, even though you wanted to slap the bit of paper out of his hands. You had wanted to walk home but Dean had insisted he drive you. You accepted in silence, the car ride being much the same. You hated to admit it but it felt good being back inside the impala. The leather and musk calming your heart that had yet to stop its rapid drilling. When he pulled up to your little cottage he got out of the car as you did. “What are you doing?” You asked as he stood at your front door, presumptuously waiting to be let in.

“Your cut needs bandaged. I know you well enough to know if I don’t do it for you it ain’t getting done.” He looks nonchalant as you open the door, not being able to argue with his sound logic. You wordlessly fetch your first aid kit for a waiting Dean. This was transactional, nothing more. The sooner he got it done the sooner he’d leave taking your gnawing guilt along with him, or so you hoped. Dean sits square in the middle of your two seater couch so you opt for sitting on the ottoman in front of him.

“This is gonna sting”, he says hovering an alcohol soaked cotton ball over your skin. “Just do it.” He presses it down, a hiss passing your lips as he continues to disinfect it. “Sweet wee place you got here, very homey”, he says without a drop of sincerity in his voice, getting a new pad and going over the area once more with clean cotton. You don’t answer, you don’t even look at his face, your eyes firmly fixed upon the carpet. “Much homier than Bobby’s, I’ll give you that.” Your already intense guilt heightens at his obvious jab. Wherever this is going you’re not sure you like it. He begins placing a bandage over your cut, not stopping his bitter tirade, “yeah you know, I could really see you settling down here. Marry the boring librarian and have a couple white bread kids”, he finishes up your cut and forcefully shuts your kit of supplies, “all you’re missing is the white picket fence.”

“Dean stop.” It’s only a whisper, but it’s all your guilt can muster. He’s angry, he has every right to be. You left him out of the blue, and now he’s found you living some small town life that stank of giving up, something he knew you’d never wanted to do.

“Fuck”, he says to himself out of frustration, standing and walking into your small kitchen space connected to the lounge to put distance between the two of you. His breaths sound laboured from how loud they are, a tell-tale sign that he’s trying to calm down. Your back is to him as you speak, “Maybe now isn’t the best time for this, I think we both need some rest.”

You glance over your shoulder to see his hands are placed on your counter, his head hung between his arms. He lifts his head to look at you as he speaks, “Can you honestly tell me if I left here now that I’d be able to find you tomorrow?” You break his knowing eye contact, facing back to the wall. He doesn’t need an answer, he knows that you’d hide from him until he left town. He huffs and takes slow, drawn out steps until he is sitting on the couch before you once more. His eyes steady and unflinching on your face, making you wring your hands together, focusing on your own movement rather than his piercing gaze.

“Y/N.” Your eyes stay on your hands. This time he reaches out one hand, placing it over the both of yours to still your movements. “I think the least you can do is look at me.” You break, raising your eyes to meet his, knowing that you’d regret it later. His eyes have always had power over you, calming you when necessary, pulling a laugh out of you when you needed it, and even making you forgive him before you wanted to. Now, meeting his green powerful eyes that pierced into your own, you were afraid they’d have the power to pull unspoken regrets from your head.

“You should go”, you whisper, not breaking eye contact. “If that’s really what you want ask me again. I’ll walk out that door and you’ll never see me again.” You want to tell him to leave, to stick to the resolve you’d mustered all those months ago. “Is that what you want?” Yes. You shake your head no in direct opposition with what your head was telling you, a smile flickering briefly on his lips.

He separates your hands with his own, lacing your fingers together. “Are you happy here, Y/N?” You want to be convincing, you want to lie through your teeth. Yet you shake your head no once more, your heart well and truly having hold over you. You can’t lie to that knowing gaze. “I haven’t been since I left.” Fuck. He’d gotten you to admit to something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself just by holding your hand and looking at you. It’s a wonder you ever had the strength to leave him.

“I left for a reason, Dean. Those reasons still stand.” His grip gets tighter on yours. “Do they have to?” You shake your hand free of his, standing up and slowly pacing, locking your fingers together and pressing them against your forehead. “Why’d you have to find me Dean?” You wonder out loud. “I was doing fine, I was getting on with my life-”

“Were you Y/N?” He questions from his still seated position, his tone accusatory. “Because from what Sam told me you’re wasting your days in some shit hole library in this podunk town. That doesn’t sound much like living to me.” You press the heels of your palms into your eye sockets briefly before meeting his powerful stare. He felt sorry for you, beside his anger and frustration. You can tell by the way his eyebrows are notched downwards along with the corner of his mouth.

Your silence encourages him to his feet, hesitantly walking towards you as if you were a flighty deer in a forest. “Do you know how scared I was when I saw you in that cave today?” His voice is quiet, his proximity close. “I couldn’t calm down until I got you outta there.” He’s studying you, trying to gauge your reaction as he speaks, “but it didn’t make me want to run”, he says in reference to your actions prior. He tentatively reaches out to grasp your limply hanging hand in his own, taking it as encouragement when you don’t instantly recoil, “it made me want to hold you, and never let go.”

“What if you’d lost me?” You speak your own fear as a question to him. “I would never get over it.” You nod along, feeling as though your point had been proved. “But I would never forgive myself if I hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t tried.” You know he’s right. If you’d heard news that something had happened to Dean while you were separated you’d be just as broken as if you were with him.

“Shouldn’t we be together despite the danger, not apart because of it?” He takes small steps, you mirroring his actions until your back is against the wall, Dean directly in front of you. His face inches closer until your noses are almost touching. “Y/N I lov-”

“Don’t say it”, you say in an urgent whisper. If he does nothing will be the same. The fact you’d left the four letter word unspoken helped you leave. If he says it now you don’t know where that leaves you. “Why shouldn’t I?” His words are calm, his eyes flicking between your lips and your eyes. You simply shake your head, your resolve already weakened by his hand in yours and the memory of his lips urging you to feel that sensation once more.

“I love you.” He barely finishes his sentence before you close the space between you, your lips hungrily moving against his. He reacts immediately, pressing his body against yours, trapping you between him and the wall. “I love you, I love you so much.” He repeats that all consuming word as he desperately kisses all of your skin he can reach. Along your jaw, down your neck, and back up to look at your face. You realize as he nudges his nose against yours gently that you’d started to cry for the second time today, overcome with the emotions you’d been holding down and trying your best to discard.

“I love you too.” Your shared declaration brings his lips to yours again. This time his hands grip the back of your thighs as he tells you to jump. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you into the bedroom, laying you beneath him on the duvet. Your touch is eager and desperate, both of you never wanting the others hands to leave each other’s skin. Both of your moans and cries sing out into the night, mixed with repeated ‘I love you’s’ that neither of you could hold back.

You lie on your stomach, your face resting on your arms and head facing Dean as you both allow time for your breathing and heart rates to settle. He’s lying on his side, head resting on his fist as his other hand is preoccupied with lightly tracing the curve of your bare back and the notches of your spine. “Y/N?” You hum in response, opening your previously closed eyelids to gaze upon the face of the bare chested man before you.

“I’m leaving town tomorrow.” His sentence ends in an upwards inclination, suggesting a question even though he had spoken none. You lift your head and placed your fist under it so you had a better view. “Where are you going?” You speak, your voice worse for wear. “Back to Bobby’s”, he answers without hesitation, “we need to regroup before finding a new case.” You nod along with him.

“Come with me”, he says, a hopeful kind of longing in his voice, “come back home Y/N.” If you’d held any inclination to decline his request the way he’d called it ‘home’ would have instantly quashed it. A lazy grin crosses your lips, nodding your head and whispering a ‘yes’ before catching his lips with your own. To anyone else this may have seemed a rash decision, an abrupt change of heart. The truth of the matter? You were never sure you’d made the right decision, every day you’d been away making you question it more and more. You’d already left him once, and now that he was back there was no way you’d be able to do it again.

You lay in each other’s arms, kept warm by your bodies. Dean falls asleep quickly, yet you feel incapable of tearing your eyes away from the man who had you wrapped tightly against him, stunned that you no longer needed to cling to snapshots of his face that lived in your head. You had the real thing in front of you once more, making the confused daze you’d been living in disappear.

Sam is silently thrilled the next day when you pack your bags into the impala, showing it by wordlessly allowing you to have the front seat. Being next to Dean in the impala for so long feels like a dream you’d wake from at any second so you have your fingers laced with his the whole ride to tether you to your reality. Bobby seems happy to see you unpacking your bags. Being a man of few words with you he says almost nothing, yet you catch him looking at Dean with that small smile on his face that says everything his voice doesn’t.

You can barely detach yourselves from each other that night, sitting on his lap on the couch, his arms around you as you cooked, and neither of you able to resist dancing to the old rock tunes that you’d been ignoring for months. Life makes sense again, music makes you smile and colours have meaning. This is how life is supposed to be, you think, straight forward, embracing things as they come and being with the one you love.

Worry still niggled at the back of your mind, but that’s a small price to pay. Fear would no longer keep you apart, you would never let it rear its ugly head again. Dean was right, you should be together despite the troubles of his lifestyle. You’d never have forgiven yourself had something happened to him without you there, but that was a thought you’d never again have to consider. You were back where you belonged, at Singer’s Auto with the man you loved. And you were there to stay this time.

***************

Tagging: @hobby27 @sasbb23 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @a-dorky-book-keeper @musiclovinchic93

31 notes · View notes

dimplesridley · 4 years

Note

For the Grace/Dani prompts, I would really like to know what's your take on the moment they decide Grace is coming back in time. I would have loved to see this in the movie so here I am :) thanks!

thanks for sending me a really cool prompt! i had a lot of fun with this :)

summary: the series of events leading to dani's decision to send grace back in time (one-shot)

word count: 7,073

rating: T

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816142

Dani had assured her it was a straightforward mission. Get the goods from their Legion contact and head back to base. Simple. Which was the only reason Grace was convinced to stay behind and not join Dani on the retrieval mission.

But Grace should have known, whenever Legion is involved, nothing is ever simple.

When the Resistance camp gets a distress call from the retrieval team, Grace is the first person to enlist for the emergency rescue operation.

Once Grace and the rest of the squad are aboard the hoverplane, Sergeant Reese fills the soldiers in on the situation. It turns out their Legion contact betrayed them at the last second and led a group of Rev-7s directly to Dani and her team who are now fighting tooth and nail just to stay alive.

Grace tries not to let her anger at the situation and her fear for Dani’s safety overrun her mind. She puts aside the images in her head of Dani bleeding and injured, choosing instead to focus solely on the sergeant’s voice as he dives into his plan for the rescue.

The plan lasts for all of five minutes before it goes to absolute shit.

The Rev-7s are reacting far more quickly than anticipated to the arrival of the Resistance rescue squad and the machines dispatch nearly the entire team in what feels like the blink of an eye.

The explosion from one of Legion’s bombs sends Grace flying. She lands on the ground hard but semi-conscious, when Sergeant Reese rushes over to her and helps her up. He shouts something at her, but her ears are still ringing too much from the blast for her to make out what he’s saying.

Suddenly, a metal blade pierces Sergeant Reese from behind.

“Sergeant!” Grace screams. Without hesitating, she fires her plasma gun at the Rev-7’s head, killing it instantly.

Then sound fills her ears again. She hears the anguished cries coming from her fellow soldiers who are engaged in a heated battle against Legion’s machines. She hears countless shots being fired desperately. Finally, she hears him. “Get…the Commander…out. ” Sergeant Reese struggles with every word, his mouth filling up with blood.

Grace doesn’t want to leave him behind, but his injuries are fatal, and Dani could still be alive and in need of her help. She nods reluctantly and gives her sergeant’s hand a final squeeze before running in search of Dani.

When she eventually finds Dani, the woman is busy fighting a Rev-7; Dani is impressively using parts of a dead Rev to defend herself against the punches and jabs from the machine in front of her, even managing to land a few decent blows herself.

Grace tries to aim her gun as carefully as possible to avoid hitting her own Commander. But the Rev-7 is moving around too much and she manages to only fire a plasma ball at its back. At least it does the trick of taking down the machine for a moment, which is just long enough for her to grab Dani and run.

They almost make it back to the hoverplane when out of nowhere, several Rev-7s start charging toward them. The few soldiers guarding the hoverplane instantly come to Grace and Dani’s assistance, shooting aggressively at the machines looming ever closer.

Amidst the chaos, the sight of the hoverplane door being lowered down catches Grace’s attention and she sees that one of her squad members, Jake Flores, is inside the plane, beckoning to her and Dani. Grace stops firing momentarily to turn to the older woman. “Commander, the hoverplane is open. In five seconds, I’m going to distract the Revs. When they start to kill me, run.”

Before Dani can protest, Grace pushes the smaller woman in the direction of the plane and then joins the other soldiers as they attempt to hold off the killing machines for as long as possible.

Grace turns to look back at the plane every few seconds or so, wanting to make sure Dani is safely on it. Her momentary distraction leads to her failing to notice the metal tentacles lunging at her until she feels them run through her body. The pain is instantaneous. It hurts so badly everywhere that Grace can’t even keep herself upright, and she drops to the ground like a felled tree. As her eyesight dims and she starts losing consciousness, she thinks she can hear Dani calling her name.

“Quick! Get her in here!”

Grace groans as they set her down, her body hurting from even the lightest touch. She imagines this is what being impaled on a bed of knives must feel like. Unknown hands remove her army vest and hastily inspects her body.

“Shit! She’s got multiple stab wounds. A lot of chest trauma here. Sedate her and get these holes sealed up, now!”

Her mind fog starts to clear, and she remembers what happened. As one of the medics goes to inject her with a sedative, Grace grasps the woman’s wrist, stopping her. “Wait, wait.” She tries to breathe. It hurts. Everything fucking hurts. “I need…to protect…my Commander.” Her breaths come out in quicker succession and her heart beats more rapidly.

The medic looks at Grace with kind eyes. “Your Commander’s safe thanks to you. Not only that, the retrieval mission was a success. We’re finally going to turn the tide in this war.” Grace’s chest starts to rise and fall more slowly as the knowledge that Dani is safe calms her. “And don’t worry, soldier. You’ll make it,” the woman adds reassuringly.

Although Grace is relieved to hear that she was able to get Dani out alive, she knows she just barely succeeded. She wishes she could do more. That’s when it dawns on her that she can. Without thinking any further, she exclaims, “Make me an augment!”

The medic stares at Grace like she’s lost her mind. “You…what?” The woman shakes her head in disbelief. “That’s just the adrenaline talking, soldier. Let’s get you under and into the OR before you bleed out.” She signals to the other medics to lift Grace.

Grace’s eyes harden. “No. You heard me. I volunteer. Make me an augment. I’m not going into surgery unless it’s to make me a FUCKING augment.”

The woman sighs in frustration. “Fine. Okay! But just know, there’s a very high probability you’ll die on that operating table.” She grabs the syringe and this time Grace lets her plunge the needle into her arm.

“It’s worth the risk.” Grace murmurs, her limbs starting to grow heavy and her eyes already closing.

She’s worth the risk.

The pain from the augmentation procedures is so intense that Grace is often flitting in and out of consciousness. One day (she doesn’t know what day it is, she’s lost all sense of time), she wakes up from an excruciating pain that feels as if her body has been turned inside out, her skin removed, and then put back again. She screams and screams and screams until the doctors have no choice but to put her in a medically induced coma to stop her from feeling anything at all.

Grace’s first proper memory post-operation is of being awakened by the sound of a heart beating slowly. She opens her eyes and traces the sound to a woman sitting in an armchair next to her bed, asleep. It’s Dani, of course it is. She has her hair down instead of in her usual braid, the brown waves framing her face beautifully. Grace reaches forward and pushes to the side a stray lock of hair on Dani’s face. Despite being as gentle as possible, the simple action causes Dani to stir.

“Grace?” mumbles Dani, voice still groggy from sleep.

“Hey,” says Grace softly.

“You're…awake?” Dani asks, almost disbelievingly. “Oh my god, Grace, you’re awake!” Dani immediately wraps her arms around Grace and hugs her tight. Grace is surprised by the sudden embrace, but she fully welcomes it, leaning into the hug and breathing in Dani’s scent. For a while, all they do is hold each other and feel the other’s warmth.

“I wondered if you would ever wake up,” Dani says when they finally pull away from their hug. “Why did you do it, Grace?” she asks, looking directly into Grace’s eyes. “You know we’ve never augmented a human before. You could have died!”

“I was dead anyway.” Grace answers hoarsely. She slowly sits upright. “I got stabbed by those things so many times that I couldn’t have survived my injuries. And even if I could, I’d never be able to fight again.” She reaches for Dani’s hand. “To protect you again.”

“Grace…” Dani’s other hand moves up to caress the side of Grace’s face. The Commander’s fingers trace the thin white scar that sits right below her eye. As Dani moves in closer, Grace thinks the woman is going to kiss her, but she presses her lips to Grace’s cheek instead. Grace closes her eyes at Dani’s touch. “Thank you,” Dani whispers.

The news of Grace’s successful augmentations spreads through the Resistance camps like wildfire. It sparks hope in all the human rebels as they finally feel like they have a fighting chance against Legion.

In the weeks that follow, Grace spends most of her time recovering at first. She would have jumped back into training as soon as possible if not for the team of doctors and Dani preventing her from doing so.

When Grace is eventually given the go-ahead, she launches into her training full force. She undergoes test after test after test as doctors and scientists work on establishing what her new abilities are and how far her augments can go before she crashes. Some days, when Grace feels like she can’t possibly go any further, only the thought of saving Dani spurs her on. Dani is pretty much the reason why Grace masters her abilities so quickly; Grace knows she needs to train her body so that when the time comes, she’s more than capable of protecting Dani.

The results of her tests and training sessions are extremely encouraging, and it doesn’t take long for the Resistance Council to officially open the augmentation program. Despite the low survival rate of the procedure, many soldiers from various encampments still sign up willingly, all eager to be better equipped to fight Legion’s machines.

One of these soldiers happens to be Jake Flores, a man who came from the same camp as Grace. They had trained together from day one and although they had never really spoken, they’ve always held a firm respect for each other as they were the top two recruits in Grace’s batch.

The Commander tasks Grace with training a newly augmented Jake, and although she’s never been one for mentoring, she can’t say no to Dani and so agrees to take Jake under her wing.

In time, Jake gradually gets the hang of his new body and even becomes a decent fighting partner for Grace. They’re in the middle of an intense sparring match one day when a Resistance Lieutenant, Riley Dawson, interrupts them.

“Flores! The Commander has requested a private meeting with you. She’s waiting for you in her office. You know where it is, soldier?”

Jake looks confused but he nods anyway. “Yes sir, I do. But-”

Grace cuts in. “But he still has another half hour of training left. Can’t he meet her after?”

Dawson gives a stiff shake of her head. “No can do. Commander insisted that Flores see her ASAP. It sounded urgent, so I suggest he gets going.”

Grace’s mouth forms a thin line. “Suggestion noted. But what’s this even about?”

The Lieutenant doesn’t bother to disguise her annoyance. “It’s called a PRIVATE meeting for a reason, Williams.”

“Okay. You know what? Fine,” Grace sighs. She turns to Jake. “Flores, you’re free to go to your PRIVATE meeting with the Commander.”

Jake quickly grabs his things, pretending not to notice the intense staredown between Grace and the Lieutenant. He briefly acknowledges his two superiors before walking away briskly.

With Jake on his way to Dani’s office, Grace moves to the punching bag to practice on her own. Dawson turns to Grace. “Y’know, we all see how close you are to the Commander.” Grace puts a little more force behind her punches. “I’m sure whatever’s so important, she’d tell you, right? So, I’d say you have nothing to worry about,” Dawson finishes with a smile that Grace could swear is actually a sneer. As soon as Dawson exits the gym, Grace swings aggressively at the sandbag, picturing herself punching the smugness off the Lieutenant’s face.

Grace finishes her workout and starts making her way to the communal bathroom for a much-needed shower. She passes by Jake’s quarters by chance and notices his door ajar. Curious, she peeks into his room and sees the young man busily sorting his belongings into several cardboard boxes and large plastic bags.

“Doing some spring cleaning, Flores?”

Jake jumps at the sound of Grace’s voice. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry,” Grace says, not really sounding sorry at all. She notices how on edge Jake seems compared to before when they were sparring. It must have something to do with that secret meeting, she thinks. “You in trouble with the Commander or something?”

“No, no, I mean, at first I thought I was…but no.”

“She moving you to another camp then? ‘Cause you look like you’re planning on going somewhere.”

“I…I am. Kind of. But that’s not why I’m packing. Not exactly, anyway. It’s just…it’s complicated, okay?” Jake rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Geez, what’s with all the vagueness, soldier? It’s not like you’re going on a top-secret mission, right?” Grace half-jokes, patting him on the arm.

But Jake doesn’t appear to find it humorous at all as his face pales at Grace’s remark. His reaction definitely does not go unnoticed.

“So, it IS a top-secret mission?” Grace pries.

Jake licks his lips. “Look, Williams, the Commander was very specific. She said I couldn’t tell anyone where I was going or what I’d be doing. And she especially mentioned that I couldn’t speak a word of it to you.”

Grace huffs. This is making less and less sense. “What?! Why not?”

“I-I don’t know. She didn’t really have time to explain. A-anyway, if you really wanna know, w-why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Despite the glare Grace gives him, she knows he’s right. Rather than forcing Jake to tell her what she wants to know, she’d be better off going straight to the source. With that decided, she walks out of Jake’s room and heads in the direction of Dani’s office.

Grace doesn’t bother knocking. She barges in, fuming. “Flores? Really, Commander?”

Dani doesn’t seem surprised at Grace’s sudden appearance in her office. She calmly sets her mug of coffee down on the table. “I was going to tell you, Grace. But I guess Flores told you first?”

“No, he didn’t actually. I figured that you must have assigned him on an important mission.” She moves closer so that she’s face to face with the older woman. “What I don’t get is why him? And why did you not want me to know?” Grace doesn’t mean to sound hurt, but honestly, she is. Her and Dani have never kept secrets from one another, so this Jake thing is really throwing her off.

Dani sighs. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to know. It’s that this shit hit me so fast that I hadn’t worked out how to tell you. I still don’t, to be honest.”

“Damn it, Dani! Tell me what?” Grace throws her hands up in frustration. She’s so fucking done with all these non-answers she keeps getting from people.

“Legion plans to kill me.”

“Okay…not to sound like a shitty person but, aren’t they ALWAYS trying to kill you?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dani lets out a laugh. Grace likes that she’s always able to do that to Dani.

Dani’s smile fades, and she wears a grave expression. “You’re right. They are. But this time’s different, Grace. Legion is going to send a new kind of Rev back to the past to kill me.” Grace’s heart stops at these words. “The version of me before I became your Commander.”

“What? How is this even possible?”

“Recently, the Council received intel that Legion has created a machine capable of not only surviving a trip through the Time Displacement Equipment, but also capable of blending in around people. They call it a ‘Rev-9’. It looks, sounds, and acts like a human, AND it can take on the form of any person it touches.“ Grace’s eyes widen. "Also, did I mention it can split into two full-bodied units? Because it fucking can,” Dani piles on casually like she’s not making it sound worse with that piece of information.

Grace’s head is spinning as she tries to process everything at once. “So, you’re telling me Legion is essentially sending the perfect assassin on a time-travelling mission to kill the pre-Commander you, and your way of preventing this is to send JAKE FLORES?? HE was your first choice??”

“What? No!”

“Then what, Dani? Because I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re sending Jake to protect you when it should be me on this mission!” Grace exclaims heatedly. She takes a few deep breaths before speaking again, this time more calmly. “Yes, Jake is a good soldier, and a loyal one, but he is not going to protect you better than I can. We were the two best recruits in our group, but he rarely beat me. For god’s sake, he’s barely even gotten used to his augments! He won’t last ten minutes against this Rev-9 and neither will you.”

“I know,” Dani says quietly. She looks at Grace with softness in her eyes. “I know how skilled of a fighter you are. And how much you would risk for me, which is why I can’t let you die because of me. It’s also why Jake Flores was not my first, but my only, choice.”

Grace places her hands on Dani’s shoulders. “I get that you’re looking out for me, but I am your best hope of surviving the Rev-9. If you send me back, there’s a chance that we both make it. But if Jake goes, there’s no doubt he’ll end up dead. Then you’ll end up dead, the Resistance will never have existed, and I’ll be dead too.” She doesn’t want to be this blunt with Dani, but she really needs the other woman to fully realize the gravity of her decision.

“I nearly lost you a month ago. And I would have, if not for a goddamn scientific miracle!” Dani paces around the room anxiously. “Ever since, I have been picturing what my life would be like without you in it and I can’t, I can’t do it.” Dani stops pacing and grasps Grace’s hands tightly. “I can’t lose you for good,” Dani pleads.

Grace intertwines their fingers together. “Hey, you won’t lose me. You won’t.” “I’m going to kill that fucking Rev, keep you alive in the past, and come right back to you, okay?” Grace says with such determination she almost believes herself.

Dani’s eyes well up with tears. “You don’t understand, Grace. TDEs only allow one-way trips. With the kind of technology that we have right now, I would not be able to bring you back to our time. You’d be stranded there forever.”

Grace takes a moment to comprehend what Dani is saying. If she goes to the past, she’ll have to leave her entire life behind for what is practically a suicide mission. Not only that, she’ll never see Dani again. Not this Dani anyway. Grace will be a complete stranger to the Dani in the past.

Truth be told, it’s not the dying that scares Grace, rather it’s the thought that she could die and the woman she loves would never even know what they mean to each other.

Although these terrifying thoughts are running through her mind a mile a minute, Grace stands by her decision. “I’m not going to lie to you and say that this shit doesn’t scare me, because it absolutely does,” she admits. “But I am here because of you. This entire Resistance is here because of you. The world needs you, Dani Ramos.”

Grace brings Dani’s hands up to her lips and kisses them gently. She whispers, “You saved me once. Now let me do this for you.” She leans down, resting her forehead against Dani’s. Their lips are so close, they’re almost touching. “Let me do this for you, please,” Grace says more desperately this time. Dani remains silent, but a moment later, she nods ever so slightly. Grace notices the trembling of Dani’s lips and the tears that have rolled down her cheeks. Without another word, she closes the gap between them and kisses Dani over and over again, every fiber of her being aching to feel the woman for the very last time.

Grace can’t sleep.

She tries for a quite a while, but she keeps failing. Partly because the bed in Dani’s office is uncomfortable as hell and clearly meant for one person, but mainly because her brain won’t shut off. She certainly envies how easily Dani falls into a deep sleep.

I guess good orgasms will do that to you.

Grace turns to look at Dani, quietly admiring the peaceful expression on the woman’s face when she doesn’t have Resistance matters to think about and people’s lives to worry over. She thinks this must be how the Dani she’s going to meet will look, probably. Carefree and still innocent to the horrors of war.

It’s going to be strange, for sure, meeting the woman she loves in completely different circumstances. Dani was her saviour when they first met twenty years ago. As the years passed, they slowly saw one another as peers and after some time, they considered themselves good friends. They only became lovers much more recently after years of Grace pining for the older woman and Dani initially being afraid of jeopardizing their friendship as well as professional relationship.

Although the two of them have yet to actually exchange those three words, Grace has loved Dani for as long as she can remember. She could say those words today or six months from now or six years from now and mean them the same way every single time. But she doesn’t want to scare Dani off, not when Dani was so unsure of starting this thing between them in the first place.

A sadness grows in her chest as Grace realize she’s really, really going to miss this Dani. There was once Dani had shared with Grace that she was afraid of loving people because she had lost so many loved ones in the past, and now as she lies awake in Dani’s cramped bed, she hates the thought that, instead of being the one who shows Dani it’s okay to love, she’s probably going to be another reason why Dani won’t.

The more she dwells on it, the more she hates the fact that she’s leaving this wonderful woman behind. But this is not about Grace, not at all. If sacrificing everything means she can save Dani, then there’s nothing left for her to think about. She’s doing this. She’s going to go back in time, even if it kills her.

At some point very early in the morning, Dani begins to wake up and in her still half-asleep state, all she can think of is wanting to hold Grace close to her and never letting her go. She reaches out in front of her but grasps at nothing; her eyes fly open and she finds herself alone in her small bed.

Dani hurriedly puts on her clothes, cursing the whole time. As soon as she thinks she’s decent, Dani rushes out her office and to the one place she thinks Grace will be. She just prays that Grace is still there.

Dani has to travel deep underground to get to the TDE laboratory, which she’s never liked because she’s always had this fear of the structure collapsing on her, so she walks as fast as she can and tries to ignore how eerie the tunnels leading to the laboratory look in the dim light.

When she’s near enough to be noticed by the scientists, Dani wastes no time in responding to their greetings and immediately asks to be shown to the vault.

As soon as one of the scientists punches in the code, Dani bursts through the large metal doors, eyes searching for any sign of that familiar blonde hair. Her heart sinks when her gaze falls upon an empty room. The time machine is there, but Grace, however, is nowhere to be found. And if Grace isn’t here, then that must mean…

I’m too late, I’m too late, I’m too late

She gasps, her hand coming up to her mouth as the realization hits her like a truck at full speed. She chokes out a sob and feels her body shake as she tries desperately to keep it together. She thinks she’s going to completely fall apart at any moment.

“Commander?”

That voice. Could it be?

Dani slowly turns around and comes face to face with the woman she’s been looking for. She doesn’t stop to think, she just throws her arms around Grace’s neck, and clings to her with every ounce of strength she has.

Grace has never known Dani to openly show this much affection toward her, especially with other Resistance members around like the female scientist standing behind them right now, but she’s definitely not complaining.

Dani finally lets go of Grace, and puts her hands on her hips. “Don’t you Commander me, Grace Williams. I can’t believe you seriously thought of going off on the mission without leaving me so much as a note!” Dani looks somewhat pissed, but Grace can tell there’s no real anger in her eyes.

A guilty look flashes across the blonde’s face. “I tried writing…something, but it felt like there weren’t any words that could convey a proper goodbye to you. So, I left, thinking it would be easier on both of us that way,” Grace admits. “I’m sorry, Dani. I really am,” she says as sincerely as she can muster, hoping that Dani can sense how much she means it.

The older woman remains silent at first as she considers Grace’s words. At last, she responds, “I guess I can forgive you since I did make it in time to see you before you left.” Her stern expression slowly gives way to a small smile. “And also because I probably couldn’t have read your handwriting anyway.”

“Oh, wow, okay. First of all, I’ll have you know that I can write really nicely if I wanted to,” Grace says, pretending to be offended, but she’s smiling too. Then, her features soften. “Second, thank you for your forgiveness, Commander. I don’t think I could have left on the mission if I thought you were mad at me.”

At that moment, the scientist, who has been awkwardly hovering around them this whole time, clears her throat nervously. “Um, I don’t mean to interrupt, Commander, but speaking of the mission…w-we still haven’t briefed Williams and we’re kind of on a tight schedule. So, um, permission to proceed?”

Grace and Dani turn toward the direction of the timid voice, suddenly remembering that they’re not the only ones in the room. Despite Dani’s attempt to will away her blush, she feels some heat rising in her cheeks. “My apologies, Dr. Brewster. Please, feel free to continue,” Dani says, taking a few steps back to allow Grace and the scientist to talk.

Dr Brewster nods shyly at the Commander before addressing Grace. “As you already know, our team has succeeded in obtaining the Rev-9’s coordinates, which means we know where and when the Rev-9 is traveling to. However, our TDE doesn’t have the most accurate transport beam so your destination won’t be exact, but it’ll be close enough.” Grace isn’t so sure she likes the sound of that, but if it’s the best the scientists can do, then she’ll work with what she’s got.

The bespectacled woman proceeds to explain the time displacement process to Grace and shares with her all the information the Resistance research team has currently compiled on the Rev-9 and its capabilities. Grace listens attentively, careful to file away in her brain every important detail she can possibly use in her upcoming encounter with the Rev.

“One last thing, soldier. TDEs can only transport living tissue and mimetic polyalloy and nothing else. So, you won’t be able to bring any weapons with you on your trip. Also, the clothes you’re wearing now,” Dr. Brewster points at Grace’s black tank top and tights, “will be completely burnt off by the time you land in 2020.”

Grace does a double take. “Wait, so I’ll be facing a robot assassin — that is pretty much a walking arsenal — naked AND unarmed?”

“Um, yes?”

Grace lets out a humorless laugh. “Well, I’m fucked already, aren’t I?”

The woman flinches at Grace’s swearing. “Y-yes. I-I mean no! No to that second thing you said, but yes to the first. Unfortunately, you’ll have no choice but to retrieve clothes and of course, weapons from that time. But if you can locate a super powerful EMP device, then that’ll destroy the Rev’s neural net and allow you to take it down permanently.”

“Right. I doubt EMP devices are commonplace in the year 2020 but I’ll figure something out,” Grace sighs. She takes in a deep breath and exhales. “Okay, I’m ready.”

While Grace is being prepped by the other scientists, Dr. Brewster discreetly pulls Dani to the side. “Commander, there are some other developments I think you should know about.” Dani turns to the woman. “What is it, Dr. Brewster? Tell me.”

“Well, when we originally fixed this TDE which we took from an abandoned Legion base, we repurposed it to detect any temporal anomalies.”

“What do you mean ‘anomalies’?” Dani asks, her interest piqued.

“Basically, what we’ve picked up are signals emitting from tech that shouldn’t be able to exist in the past. Legion’s tech, to be precise. But that’s not the most interesting part. We discovered that one of those signals isn’t from any tech we recognize.”

Dani furrows her brows. “So, it’s not-”

“That’s right, Commander. It’s neither Resistance NOR Legion. It’s something else entirely!” Dr. Brewster says, sounding more and more excited. She quickly continues, “What’s more, this machine seems to know exactly where and when a Rev will be transported in time BEFORE it happens.”

Dani shakes her head, confused. “How could anyone or anything know what’s going to happen before it actually does? This isn’t making any sense.”

Dr. Brewster frowns. “Yeah, we still have no idea how this machine does it but we do know that it’s been sending coordinates and dates to an unknown number. And every time it does, Legion sends back a Rev a day or a couple of days later. Which proves that this machine’s information is accurate! Also, I know this is a lot to digest but I’m going to blow your mind even further, sir.”

Dani resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Please get to the point, Doctor.” The scientist nods eagerly. “Yes, sir. Of course. Okay, so far every Rev that’s been sent back in time has been destroyed within hours of its arrival and the singular clue we have is the unknown number, which appears whenever a Rev does. I think it’s safe to say that this machine is working together with the unknown number to terminate Revs.”

The gears start turning in Dani’s head until finally, Dani’s eyes light up. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, that this machine and its partner are indeed 'terminating’ Revs, then that means they…they could actually be potential allies of the Resistance.”

“Yes, Commander, they certainly could. But again, it is somewhat risky, considering we don’t really know their motives for killing Revs or who they’re affiliated with.”

Dr. Brewster may be ridiculously long-winded at times, but even Dani has to admit that she’s got a point there. She doesn’t want to rely too heavily on two relatively unknown variables. She decides instead to consider them as a backup plan of sorts. “Dr. Brewster, do you have the coordinates for these two agents?”

“Um, we have them for the machine but not for its partner, who seems to be on the move frequently so we can’t pinpoint the partner’s location. Why?”

“Okay, that’s fine. Give me what you have,” Dani commands, the urgency evident in her voice.

The scientist quickly fishes out a tablet from her left coat pocket and hands it over to Dani.

On the other side of the room, Grace is about to step into a tub containing the substance that will allow her to be transported by the TDE. Dani suddenly calls out to the blonde, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

Dani hurriedly jogs up to Grace and whips out a small laser pen. “I need to tattoo something important on you. Would that be okay?”

“Didn’t peg you for the possessive type, Dani, but sure, go ahead.” Grace gets a light smack on her arm in response.

“Oh my god, I don’t mean my name, Grace!”

The blonde shrugs. “How was I supposed to know?”

Dani gives her the side-eye, but she’s barely suppressing a smile. “Good to know you still have a sense of humor even at times like this.” Her half-smile slowly falls, and her face grows serious again. “Grace, I don’t have time to explain but I’m going to mark some very important coordinates on you. If the shit hits the fan, go to this place and get help, okay?” Grace nods wordlessly before pulling up her black tank, revealing part of her abdomen to Dani. “This is going to hurt quite a bit,” Dani warns, to which Grace gives her a pointed look. Dani’s cheeks redden. “Right. I forgot I’m talking to an augment.”

Dani tries to keep her hand as steady as possible as she uses the tiny laser to etch the coordinates on Grace’s skin. The blonde grits her teeth when the hot laser makes contact with her flesh, but she doesn’t let out a single sound.

When Dani finishes, a male scientist approaches them, his face sweaty and his hands clasped together tightly. “Excuse me, Commander? If we’re going to mask our TDE activity from Legion, we’ll need to piggyback on its signal when it sends the Rev-9, which gives Williams about five minutes before she must be transported.”

“Wait, can I at least have a moment to say goodbye?”

“Sir, our window of time is small as is, and it’s getting narrower by the second,” the man stresses.

Dani laughs darkly and stares him down. “This woman is literally going to be sent back in time to die for me and for our cause, so I suggest you find a way to keep that fucking window open until we’ve said our goodbyes. Is that clear?”

The man gulps. “Y-yes, sir.” He shuffles awkwardly over to the control panel, while the other scientists also start working on their own tasks, giving Dani and Grace a slight amount of privacy in the large room.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

The two women share a shy smile, both suddenly very quiet. Although Dani herself is unsure of what to say, she doesn’t want to waste time debating over who should speak first. So, she ends up blurting the first thing that comes to mind. “Please be safe, okay? Whatever happens, just remember your training, remember everything you know about the Rev-9, remember those coordinates, and remember your limits. If you start crashing, go to the nearest pharmacy or clinic you can find and get the right meds.”

Grace opens her mouth to say something but Dani quickly adds, “And don’t screw up the dosage!” She realizes she may have said that part a little too loudly, so she follows up more quietly, “That’s, um, very important.”

Grace chuckles softly, amused at Dani’s rambling. “Don’t worry, I can remember shit, alright?” She reaches for Dani’s hand, finding comfort in the weight of it in her own. “But Dani, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to stay safe. I can only promise you that I’ll do everything I can so you won’t have to lose me.”

“Sir, three minutes till the window closes!” yells the male scientist from behind the TDE’s control panel.

Dani gestures with her free hand to indicate she’s heard him, and quickly turns back to Grace. She bites her lower lip. “I know I’m kind of lousy with words and sometimes with my feelings, but before you go, I want to say thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me. You’ve always listened to me, advised me, supported me, and encouraged me.” The blonde instinctively wants to look away, embarrassed, except Dani holds her still. “Grace, believe me when I say that you are, without a doubt, the person I trust the most and the one I can truly be myself with. Because, I don’t have to be Daniella Ramos, Resistance Commander, when I’m with you. I can just be plain old Dani and I love that. I really, really fucking love that.” Dani laughs, then stops. “Grace, I think I-”

“Two minutes left, Commander!”

Grace smiles understandingly. “Dani, it’s okay. I think I know what you’re about to say, and you don’t have to. Don’t feel like you have to say it just because I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again.”

Dani can’t believe what she’s hearing. “What? Grace, no, I’m not saying it ‘just because’ you’re leaving! I mean, maybe I am a little bit… But my point is, I’m saying this now because I’ve finally realized that it’s how I really feel. It’s true.”

“What is?”

Dani groans. “That I love you! Oh my god, Grace, I love you!”

The sudden confession stuns the entire room into pin-drop silence. Grace herself is left speechless. Her brain feels for a while as if it has short-circuited. Then somehow, her body moves of its own accord and she’s surging forward, kissing Dani on the lips, hard. Dani responds eagerly, kissing Grace back with just as much want and fervor. Grace lets herself savor the taste of Dani’s lips for a few more seconds before pulling away from the woman, panting. “I wish we had all the time in the world for me to show you all the things you make me feel, but we don’t.”

“Sixty seconds till transport, Commander,” Dr. Brewster reminds gently.

Dani gives a solemn nod and sighs shakily. “Understood, Doctor.”

As Dani is led away by Dr. Brewster to the observation room, the scientists immediately usher Grace into the tub. They submerge her to ensure she’s completely covered in the conductive substance from head to toe.

Once Grace is on the platform, the scientists start up the TDE, the large machine humming as it works on accumulating enough energy to execute the transportation process. When the machine is sufficiently charged, the rings surrounding the platform begin to rotate, generating a field around Grace and levitating her. The digital clock in the observation room begins its countdown.

10…

9…

From behind the glass-paneled room, Dani watches Grace, and she can see how, despite the brave face Grace is putting on, there’s genuine fear and uncertainty in the woman’s eyes. Without realizing it, Dani suddenly has her fingers on the intercom button. “Grace, it’s going to be okay.” The blonde turns to look up at Dani. “I’m here and I’m with you.” Dani places one hand on the glass, wishing she could reach out and comfort Grace. Dani’s words seem, at least, to put Grace more at ease, judging by the slight smile on her face.

6…

5…

Even as she’s watching this take place with her own two eyes, Dani still can’t believe that she really only has a handful of seconds left before Grace disappears and she’ll never see the woman again. This can’t be it for them, it just can’t. She refuses to accept it. Her fingers lunge for the intercom button again. “Grace, I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but I’m going to find a way to bring you back. I will find a way, you hear me?” At this point, Dani doesn’t even care how desperate she sounds in front of her people, she just needs Grace to know that she will never give up on her.

Dani’s determination plants in Grace a newfound optimism and hope for her mission that she didn’t have before. She should have known Dani would never lie down and take shit from fate. Dani’s always said, “Fuck fate.” And sure enough, Dani seems intent on doing just that for Grace.

The glass being too thick for any sound to pass through, Grace decides instead to mouth “I love you” at Dani and prays the woman can read lips well enough to understand her. Dani’s eyes tear up, letting Grace know that she received the message loud and clear.

2…

1…

At the very last moment, just as the ball of energy begins to fill up the entire room and the rotations of the metal rings reach critical speeds, Grace mouths one last thing to Dani. “I’ll see you soon.”

And in a blinding flash of light, Grace is gone, and Dani is all alone. The room she stands in somehow feels colder and darker than it did a mere moment ago.

A few minutes pass in silence before Dani wipes away the remaining tears and she balls her hands into fists, her gaze hardening. "I meant what I said to Grace earlier.” She looks into the eyes of each and every one of the scientists there. “I am not stopping until I find a way to return her to our time. Starting from right fucking now.”

#terminator dark fate #dani x grace #grace x dani #terminator #whoeverdares #mine #also i didnt know there might be a deleted scene or smthg of grace begging to be sent back so this is entirely like my own interpretation #of how it all went down sdlskflk ok i dont actually know shit

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tiny-maus-boots · 5 years

Text

Wild West AU pt 18

A/N: as always a huge ginormous thank you to @chloes-yellow-cup for taking care of all my posting on ao3 and always taking the time to encourage me.

Stacie

“Get down!”

Beca dropped down to a knee and Stacie raised her rifle to fire right into the chest of the man running straight at them. She figured he was hoping to overwhelm them before they could get a shot off at him. It was a stupid idea that ultimately got him killed. Stacie snorted and pulled the lever back again before raising the rifle up to scan the roofs.

“Thanks. I owe ya.”

Stacie let her gaze drift down to Beca still kneeling on the ground. “Ya owe me about six by my last count.”

“What? Six?? Just because I can’t read doesn’t mean I can’t count. I owe you two at most.”

“What about Albuquerque?! That counts for at least five just on its own.”

A shift of air behind her warned Stacie just in time and she ducked as Beca launched herself like a wild animal at the soldier behind her. The smaller woman gave a feral snarl, knives flashing out to scissor cut at his throat. Beca glanced over her shoulder at Stacie, a fine spray of red dotting her face.

“Albuquerque doesn’t count. You can’t say you rescued me when you were in the same damned cell!”

Stacie rolled her eyes and tugged a few bullets out of her belt to load in the rifle. “And who’s to blame for that?”

Beca’s lips quirked into a grin and she shrugged as she took stock of what weapons she had left. Stacie leaned against the clapboard wall of the Saloon and peeked down the street. It was quiet but she couldn’t tell if that was because they’d killed everything out there or the Sheriff’s men and what few soldiers Avery still commanded were waiting them out. The latter seemed likely.

“I didn’t throw the first punch in that bar. You can talk to your missus about that.”

The mention of Aubrey made Stacie swallow hard despite the humor of the memory. The tall woman sighed softly, a bittersweet smile gracing her face. “That was one hell of a punch.”

“She’s a hell of a woman.”

Stacie gave a nod at that and closed her eyes for a second trying to push out the image of Aubrey falling to the ground as bullets struck her body. After a second she opened them to find Beca watching her silently. There wasn’t a question or a discussion, simply a look between them and a nod from her, affirming that she was all good. Beca gave a soft huff and peeked around Stacie and the corner of the building.

“See anything?”

“Naw. Pretty sure whoever is left is either with Avery or the Sheriff. It’s not gonna go easy for either of us you know.”

She nodded at that already knowing they were facing an uphill battle. She just didn’t care. Stacie couldn’t care less if she had to shoot each and every person in that crap hole town. “Yeap.” The tall brunette took a step back to eye the side of the building looking for handholds, her gaze tracked the easiest way up to the porch roof and she smiled. “I got an idea…”

“Every time you say that Chloe ends up having to dig buckshot out of my ass.”

Stacie chuckled and jerked her head upward to indicate their path. Beca gave her a dubious look but nodded anyway. She gave a quick glance around just to make sure, slung her rifle over a shoulder then cupped her hands into a stirrup for Beca to step into. The shorter woman frowned slightly at needing a lift but lightly stepped in and up to climb onto the roof. As soon as Beca was up Stacie leapt at the low hanging edge and pulled herself up and over it as quietly as she could.

They laid there on their backs for a second just waiting to see if there was a stir of movement that signaled they’d been seen. She raised her head slightly then nodded. “Clear.”

Beca sat up to gauge the distance between buildings. It wasn’t a wide jump but it still wouldn’t feel great if she misjudged and fell to the ground between them. Bec grunted and pointed to the general store and sighted down her arm as she considered. “See ya when the dust settles…”

Before Stacie could say anything Beca stood and took three running steps to leap from the edge of the roof, her tiny body curling into a ball as she crashed through a glass window of the second floor of the general store.

“Well I’ll be damned, showoff.”

She shook her head and scrambled up the slope of the porch roof to a window and peeked in carefully. Beca would never let her live it down if she got shot before she even got inside. Stacie slid her fingers under the lip of the window and pushed it up slowly. There was no one in the room which was just as well, and she was halfway across it when the glint of brass caught her eye. Stacie turned her head to the corner and growled at the sight of blood stained Army officer’s uniform jacket hanging from a chair back.

Heavy booted steps thudded dully on the dusty rug running the length of the hall outside the door and she darted in behind it just as it swung open. Avery, she assumed, sighed heavily and shuffled unsteadily inside the room.

“Jones, Hanover…no one and nothing comes up those stairs. I don’t care if it’s the barkeep’s cat just kill it.”

The men turned and started down the hall with quiet ‘yes sir’s before Avery shut the door and threw the latch to lock it. Stacie stood still as death as he shut the door and turned away from her to the room without ever noticing that she was there. The bloody bandage wrapped around his head and over one eye made it easy for her stay hidden as he swept off his hat and tossed it casually at the bed post before lifting the lid on a box of cigars resting on the low table in the corner.

Avery pulled one out and neatly cut the cap off with a small curved blade. He bent slightly to light the cigar with a rough wooden match. It was all so very familiar and her heart throbbed painfully in her chest. “You know Aubrey does the same thing. Tosses her hat on the bedpost, lights herself a cigar…I guess I expect nothing less from the heirs of a tobacco plantation empire.”

He spun on a heel and opened his mouth to shout but Stacie drew her revolver and raised it to his head, thumb ready on the hammer. Avery let a pained scowl twist his face but he closed his mouth and raised his hands when she gestured with her gun for him to raise them up.

“Well if it isn’t the great whore of Babylon. I suppose you’re here to take revenge for my sister?”

She tipped her head to the side and eyed him curiously. They looked so much alike, Aubrey and Avery did. The same twitch of a smile when they were pleased with themselves, same cocky swagger when they knew they were being watched, right down to the steely eyed gaze when they stared down the barrel of a gun fearlessly. But he wasn’t anything like her girl where it counted, not deep down in the heart and soul of him.

Aubrey was good and kind. She was gentle and patient and full of love and devotion. Aubrey was every good thing in this world and Avery was a steaming pile of buffalo shit. Right down to his rotten and broken soul. He was a monster at the core and as long as he lived he would bleed that darkness onto anyone weaker than he. And he’d do it all with the weight of the law behind him making him even more of a threat than before.

“Somethin’ like that. That’s gonna leave a nasty scar on that pretty face of yours.”

Avery put the cigar back in his mouth slowly and took a few puffs. He didn’t seem overly afraid but a beat of sweat dripped down his temple and her lips quirked into a grin. A man can lie with his mouth, he can even lie with his eyes, but his body will betray him every single time.

“It was a gift from my dear sweet sister before her death.” She cocked the hammer back, the smile vanishing from her face instantly. “Jones told me the mountain took her when it came down on everyone. I expect that’s about as good a burial as she’s likely to have gotten riding with you and yours.”

He didn’t know. Stacie’s eyes bored into him as hate deeper than any she had ever felt flamed to life in her chest. Avery was gleeful as an executioner on hanging day talking about Aubrey’s passing and it poked at all the wrong sore spots in her heart. Stacie swallowed hard, her hand shaking just a little as she thought about how true his words could have been.

“That hurts doesn’t it? Knowing that she’s gone I mean. I’ll tell you, there was no one on this green earth that was quite like my sister. No one but me.” A grin tugged at his lips and he glanced toward the bed then back at Stacie. “You pull that trigger and she’s gone for good, forever. This might be your last chance to remember what it was like having a Posen between your legs. I promise you I’ll make you feel things my sister never had the equipment for. I’ll teach you your place same way I taught her.”

Stacie didn’t feel herself move nor did she hear the sharp crack of the hammer hitting the firing pin. And she definitely did not notice the jerk of her arm as the recoil of her gun kicked back. The cigar dropped from the surprised ‘o’ of his lips and landed on the cheap hand woven rug he stood on. Avery fell back against the wall leaving a dark red smear of blood where he slid along it and tipped into the bed. She hadn’t wanted it to be so fast, she had wanted to make him suffer for the pain he’d caused, but patience was never really a virtue she’d mastered.

Feet pounded the hall in a run and she knew the two soldiers he’d left guarding the stairs would come bursting through his door any second. Stacie lowered the gun, fingers still gripping the handle as if she longed to pull the trigger again. A heavy body slammed into the door but the latch held firmly in place.

“Lieutenant Posen! Sir! Are you alright?” The body hit the door again attempting to break it down and it shuddered violently under the force. Stacie holstered her gun and quickly moved to shove the heavy dresser in front of the door to give her more time. Avery rolled to his side, eye alight with an unholy glow of sick anger but that was okay by her. She felt plenty sick on rage herself.

“You bitch…you goddamned bitch.”

“That’s a right pretty offer you made Lieutenant, but Aubrey ain’t dead.” Stacie pulled her rifle over her shoulder and raised it carefully, aiming for chest high at the door before pulling the trigger. There was a shout and a thump as someone hit the floor outside. There was silence save for Avery’s heavy breaths and she chuckled and pushed him to his back on to the bed, digging the butt of her rifle against the wound in his shoulder. Avery screamed out in pain and writhed under the pressure. “And her dick is bigger than yours.”

This time she was aware of every single movement and every single second that ticked by. The smooth antler handle of her knife hugged her palm warmly as she gripped it firmly and slid it free from the sheath in her boot. Avery batted weakly at the rifle but couldn’t push it away with Stacie’s weight holding it steady.

“Whore….I’ll kill you all. Make her watch as I fuck you dead and bleedi…”

The blade sunk in to his gut with almost no resistance cutting off his words as the air rushed out of his lungs. One of his hands gripped hers to pull the knife out but she twisted her wrist and forced another gasping breath out of him. Another thud against the door, more cautious and hesitant.

“I might die sure enough but you’ll be worm food long before that day.” She twisted again and a long rattling whine whistled past his lips. Stacie pulled the knife out and plunged it back in with another slow grinding twist, smiling when the blade grated against the bone of his ribs. “Tell the Devil I send my regards.”

Thick sticky blood coated her hands for the second time that day but this time she delighted in the feel of it, in knowing it was Avery’s life slipping away. Stacie roughly pulled her blade free and wiped it clean on the leg of his pants before putting it away and slinging the rifle strap back over her shoulder. His dull eyed gaze followed her and his lips worked form words but no sound issued from him. Stacie stuck one leg out of the window and glanced back to watch the light leave his eyes. When she was sure he was dead she gave a nod of finality. It was over with him and Aubrey could finally be free of that malingering fear of retribution.

Stacie slid out of the window then stopped and looked back. She didn’t really have time for it but…it’d be a sin to let a box of fine cigars go to waste. Especially when she knew Aubrey was likely twitchy for one. She ducked back in to grab the box just as the door finally pushed open. Stacie drew her pistol and held it steady but the soldier that had tumbled into the room raised his hands in surrender.

“Is he…dead?”

“Yeap.”

“A-are you gonna kill me too?”

That was the question. Stacie raised a brow and glanced at the body of the other soldier she’d shot through the door. He was older and heavier looking than the one standing in front of her. This one was just a boy, no more than fifteen or so, a whole life left to lead. Seconds ticked by as she weighed what Aubrey would say over what her gut wanted her to do.

“You the last of them?” He nodded quickly, the whites of his eyes too big for his face. “Then congratulations, it is your lucky day, boy. You get to live to tell the tale. Best thank your God for that sweet bit of mercy. I reckon it’ll be the last you ever see if you stay in the Army.”

He nodded again and she pushed past him roughly, pausing only to shove a cigar into his mouth and give him an unkind push out of her way. He stumbled back, hands still held up in fear but he didn’t follow as she strode down the hall to the stairs. Each step took her further away from the possessing fear and anger that had driven her to such brutality but she wouldn’t truly be free of it until she was with Aubrey again and sure that the blonde was well and safe in her own two arms.

“I’m coming home darlin’. Real soon.”

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toasttz · 5 years

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From the Tabletop X

Shit yeah! I'm totally alive! It's not that our games stopped or anything (though our D&D GM was ready to throw it all at the wall, he has decided to soldier on). Just that I've gotten wrapped up in other things. Like, uh, GM'ing! Yeah, remember, like, a year ago when I started this series and mentioned I really like Shadowrun? We kicked off a Shadowrun 5e game! So, today's special 10th-ennial extravaganza will be Shadowrun talk time, or me at the opposite side of the table. To begin, our players' runners: Troppo - an Australian who ventured to Seattle in search of work once a military injury (several lost fingers) had him on a medical discharge. His role in the party is infiltrator. Which gives him license to trivialize otherwise-challenging moments in my campaign by stealth-killing all the enemies I made for them. Later ends up dating a Johnson after a particular run. Still active as of this writing. Then there's Big Iron - our street sammy. An ex-cop who was put on indefinite administrative leave when she became known as Knight Errant's personal walking PR disaster - effectively the sixth world's version of the Demolition Man. However, as part of the conditions of this arrangement, she had to be on-call when KE needed her for anything. She became a runner to make ends meet and kind of became the Team Mom. And lastly is Clockwork. Clockwork is a decker who runs hot or cold - either hyper-compotent and hacking the planet, or getting thwarted by an OSHA-compliant stairwell (not joking about this) with no inbetweens. Rare flashes of brilliance illuminated the short and underwhelming career of a runner who, as of the most recent update, was sent to the hospital because his overweight girlfriend sat on his face. As the GM, I refuse to issue apologies or excuses. Mostly because, God damn man, you could've done SO MUCH BETTER! Oh yeah, I realize there is a canon runner named Clockwork. Well, we didn't know that going into it, so he got to fly under the radar on that. If he had actually hung in there, I planned on having the canon Clockwork troll him at some point. So, to start, we're all new and Sixth World is out of reach at the time (and debuting late at our local shops), so I decide to pitch the classic: a Stuffer Shack run. Seattle, 2080, early nostril-freezing early January. Big Iron goes into said Stuffer Shack, getting herself some snacks and condoms (in order not to look "lame"). The boy at the counter sleepily rings her up, just in time for Troppo - Spider-Manning his way up to a rooftop in order to eye a gang of elves acting shifty outside the store. This leads to the first glitch of the game - the elves glitch in their attempt to notice Spider-Troppo. Elf 3: Whoa! Look! That pigeon is fat! Elf 4: Who cares?! Focus! Troppo: Troppo sits in silence to watch these crazy elves, taking only minor offense at being called a fat pigeon. One of the elves goes around the side to start hacking the security (which isn't exactly top-notch), and the other three enter and declare themselves the "Daggerbacks" - an elven supremacy movement looking to expand the glorious empire of Tir Tangaire (and sucking at it). Big Iron attempted to take the high road and offered them a chance to reconsider this terrible decision, but they scoff at the offer and a shootout ensues. This goes poorly for the elves (and would've gone worse for them, had I properly read about how this system handles damage! Shadowrun is a ruthlessly kill-y system!) as Big Iron sends the three scattering, one diving for cover, one wounded who slumps into a wall, and the leader with a baseball-sized hole in his torso, blown backwards into the store's front door. He is then grabbed by a colossal, Troll hand, which firmly affixes to his head, causing him to drop his firearm in defeat. The owner of the hand is Oscar, a former coworker of Big Iron who "just so happened to be in the neighborhood" at the time and lent a hand in arresting them. Oh yeah, and Clockwork traced their network activity and arrived at the scene in the nick of too late. Troppo ultimately intimidated their decker into absolute surrender, lifting a coupon for "SUSHI RAINBOW - NOW WITH REAL FISH!" and his deck off him in the process, causing him to flee - claiming to never really care about the Tir - without deck but with soiled pants. The firefight inside dies down not long after. Cashier: You shot it, you bought it! Big Iron: Now's not the time! By sheer coincidence, the other elves had SUSHI RAINBOW coupons on them as well - my subtle shove towards a meet-up place. Big Iron and Troppo meet en route, having established they did work together in the past. Before long, we were all together, meeting at SUSHI RAINBOW, its owners being Japanese immigrants, Yoshi and Rinko Watanabe and their gyaru daughter, Honoka. Since we were playing with few players than normally constitutes a full runner team, I made a few NPCs to help fill any niches that needed addressing. Honoka was a technomancer and had skills like auto mechanic and gunsmith. And, due to an amusing typo (AKA: Clockwork's persistent illiteracy), a new team of runners was born: "Hey, guys! Someone's biting my runner handle!" complained Friend Octopus. "You really need to change it, dude," Observed Radical Larry. "You're one to talk," sighed Sexy Penguin. "All of you, shut up and focus. This bomb isn't gonna defuse itself and if it goes off, we'll lose the entire shipment of irridium discs!" scolds their leader, Disco Panda. Anyways, back in Seattle, we learn Yoshi and Rinko are retired runners who still have contacts throughout the city. Rinko agrees to bring the runners on on a regular basis, provided they assist with a little issue that's been plaguing them for a while: The Silver Knives. A gang of over-the-hill mostly-mages, who are going around and harassing people as of late in the area. I learned many of the foibles of GMs that day. On account the first leg of the run (a shoot-up down a narrow corridor/alleyway) was trivialized by Troppo Spider-Troppo'ing down on them and assassinating them. For reference, I use the dice that came in the Sixth World Beginner's Box - cuz they're super cool - and these geezers were glitching left and right. So, having made complete work of that, the runners got to the main event - a raid on their warehouse compound (where they would be paid for each of the gang necklaces of each head they popped) and were assigned an NPC shaman, Fallen Snow, an Amerindian Shaman who had a... very special master spirit. I used Shark from the core book as the basis and... well... Go to Youtube, and search for "Lumpy Touch Movie Sonic". Once again, as GM, I never make apologies. Except in one run. But that was only half my fault. Fucking stairs, man. Not even once. Well, I underestimated them again and, though the gangers had a numbers advantage, Troppo and Fallen Snow were stealth/assassin builds and Clockwork was given the rival in the form of the 1337 H@X0R, an elderly, experienced hacker who was learning computers before the previous Great Crash, well up to 2080. Fallen Snow then reveals her spirit as Wendigo (full name: Wendigo of the North), who proceeds to beat the hell out of and then subsequently eats the gangers as they go. Now, a small excerpt from our game: "Snow thrusts her arms out to the side as she glows dimly, as two disproportionately long, clawed hands extend up, then out, landing on the ground and pushes up a lumbering, terrifyingly large spirit. Its head is clad in a goat's skull, but its eyes still seem to bulge and protrude from the sockets, as if they are being squeezed. It has a massive set of jaws and ever-convulsing skin that paradoxically seems to hang limp off the spirit's frame. "HEY GUIYS!" the spirit announces itself in an echoing, unearthly voice, "I'm STARVIN' over here!" “Jesus fuck, Snow,” Troppo says under his breath, without taking his eyes off the sprawling enemies. "Wendigo. By our contract. Kill the Silver Knives. Oh, and don't swallow their necklaces. We need those," Snow demands. "Does that mean... WHAT I THINK IT MEANS?!" the spirit cackles. Snow sighs, rolls her eyes, and replies, "Yes. You may eat them. Don't belabor the point. We're in a hurry and outnumbered," “Jesus FUCK, Snow,” Troppo repeats, with greater emphasis this time. Clockwork gasps "Holy shit" Snow rests her eyes for a moment with a sigh. "When gangers killed my family... my magical 'spark' ignited. And I screamed for anything that would give me revenge. And I summoned a Spirit of Hunger," "OH BOY OH BOY, YOU GUYS! It's like a buffet line! Sure, the meat's tough and been under the heat lamp too long, but there's SO MUCH TO TRY!" Wendigo guffaws as his legs manifest and he rises to his full height. After Clockwork used his gun to off a guy in meatspace, Wendigo even pried, "Are you gonna eat that?!" with a sadistic laugh. Clockwork won (narrowly), just in time for the BOSS FIGHT to stomp in - a cybered-up ork with raw strength to spare. When he threw Wendigo across the warehouse, even Big Iron strongly considered the better part of valor. Boss: Well, well, well... I go out for one night on the town with the missus and I come back to find everyone in my branch has kicked their damn oxygen habit... Troppo: Well, to be fair, it's a bad habit to have. Everyone who has it eventually ends up dead. Boss: Too true. Too true. Especially in this day and age. So, you busted up my joint. Least I can do is tell you my call sign. Y'er, uh, runners, yeah? You got call signs, I wager. Mine, when I was a young man, was Wrecking Ball Big Iron: GET SOME, GRANDAD! (Proceeds to open fire wildly). Wrecking Ball: (Dodges, much to the team's horror). The old way it is, then. This was not a fight I had any intention of making easy on them. Hell, I was even going to give them the chance to use social combat to escape. But Big Iron cast the first stone and thus, the battle was underway. But with a bit of teamwork - and a review of how armor works in the game - they were able to beat him - and obtain a specially ranked insignia off his necklace with a color ranking - a green jewel. Rinko paid the team handsomely. The team then got the chance to go back to SUSHI RAINBOW and rest a while. Not long after, I assigned their next run - in what would come to be known as the COFFEE RUN. Join us there as we also DRAW DICKS ON MUSEUM WALLS! And meet a SUPERHERO TEAM! See you there!

#From the Tabletop #RPG #Tabletop RPG #Shadowrun

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worryinglyinnocent · 6 years

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Fic: Reconstructing Claire

Summary: Lost fic. After their escape from the island, whilst getting ready to rejoin society, Kate and Claire begin the process of putting a very broken Claire back together again. In doing so, they perhaps put Kate back together again as well.

Post-finale, canon compliant. No ships, but mentions of past Jack/Kate.

Rated: T

=====

Reconstructing Claire

The plane is in the air, and they are almost free of the island. Claire is holding Kate’s hand so tightly she’s almost cutting off the circulation, but in that moment, Kate doesn’t care. They’ve done it. They’ve all lost so much, but this is going to be the end of the losses. This is going to be a new beginning; Kate is sure of it.

As they continue to fly on, however, the first doubts begin to creep in. Where are they going to land? How are they going to explain to the authorities at whatever airport they land at where the Ajira plane has been ever since it disappeared over the middle of the Pacific a week ago? How are they going to explain Claire and James when they were both declared dead three years ago? What about Miles and Richard? What’s going to happen to Frank? Will the plane even hold together long enough to get them anywhere?

Kate is not one for panicking – she never has been. She gets scared, she gets so scared that she’s paralysed by it, but blind panic is not usually her thing. Still, Jack taught her how to get rid of her fear. She closes her eyes, returns the pressure of Claire’s hand, and counts to five.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

She exhales, calm again, movement returning to her limbs as clarity returns to her mind.

“Claire, honey?”

Claire opens her eyes and looks over at Kate. She looks just as fearful as Kate feels.

“I’m gonna see what’s going on, ok?”

Claire nods and lets go of the iron grip on her hand, and Kate unfastens her seatbelt, carefully making her way up towards the cockpit. Richard follows her.

“Frank, where are we headed?” she asks, at the same time as Richard asks: “Frank, can we make it to Guam?”

“Kate, I have no idea where we’re headed other than away from the island, and Richard, we can possibly make it to Guam as soon as I work out where the hell we actually are.”

“I can work out where we are,” Richard says, and sourcing a pencil from God only knows where in the cockpit, he begins to scribble math on the back of the plane’s electrical diagrams, still on the co-pilot’s seat from their frantic repair works. Kate can tell that it’s going to take a while, but she doesn’t want to go back to Claire without some kind of an action plan.

“Hey, Freckles.”

She turns to see James hanging over her shoulder.

“You know, watching them ain’t gonna get us there any quicker.”

“I know.” She lets James guide her back to the first row of seats to allow Richard and Frank to work in peace.

“I know you’re worried about her,” James says. Kate glances back at Claire. Her eyes are closed again but it’s clear from the deep frown line between her brows and the way her fingers are digging into the arm rests with white knuckles that she’s not asleep.

“I can’t relax until she’s back home with her mom, James. We got off the island, but how the hell are we going to get home?”

“Somehow,” James replies. There’s sheer grit and determination in his voice.

Kate feels the plane bank to one side and her eyes dart to the cockpit. Richard appears to be giving Frank directions from a map that’s hand-drawn and hardly to scale. It doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence.

Miles comes up to join them. “So, what’s happening?”

“We’re attempting to go to Guam,” James says. “I think.”

“Right. Does anyone have any idea where we’re actually headed?”

“As long as it’s not straight down, Miles, I really don’t care.” James sighs. “I think Guyliner’s got it.”

Richard comes out of the cockpit.

“We’re headed to Guam,” he says. “We have a safehouse there beside the Dharma packing plant that the supply drops come from. No need to worry about customs or security.”

“I sense a ‘but’,” James says shrewdly.

“We usually travel there by sub. It doesn’t exactly have a runway.”

Kate’s eyes widen. Three plane crashes in as many years and two in as many weeks are more than enough for anyone.

“Have we got enough fuel to get there?” Miles asks.

“Well, if we haven’t, then we’ll be swimming there,” Frank calls from the cockpit. “Richard, get back in here! I’m flying blind!”

Richard ducks back into the cockpit and the other passengers go back to their seats. There’s nothing more that they can do.

Kate goes and sits back down next to Claire.

“Where are we going?” she asks. It’s the first time she’s spoken since she agreed to come on the plane with them.

“Guam.”

“I don’t have my passport,” Claire says.

“Neither do I.” It was fake anyway; she can’t exactly leave the country when she’s not allowed to leave the state. “Richard says that we won’t need them though. We’re heading to one of the Others’ safehouses.”

It’s the word safe that does it. Claire gives Kate a tiny, brittle smile.

“We’ll never be safe, Kate,” she says, and Kate’s heart breaks at the sadness in her voice.

“We will be,” she says firmly, although she obviously can’t know that for sure. “I’ll protect you, Claire. I said that I would get you and Aaron reunited and that’s what I’m going to do.”

Claire’s still unconvinced, but there’s nothing else that Kate can do for her yet. Not until they land. She leans back in her seat and stares out of the window. They’re free from the island but they still have so far to go.

It’s a tense journey, but then land is in sight and the plane is in sharp descent.

“Ladies and gents, it’s going to be a very bad landing,” Frank announces from the cockpit, circling and circling the little sheds and the patch of concrete that serves as a pallet and drone take-off and landing station. At least it’s next to an open expanse of field and a road that appears to be deserted.

“Hold onto your heads!” Frank yells.

Kate and Claire brace against the impact and as they touch down on the field, Kate’s teeth rattle in her skull, spots dancing in front of her eyes. She doesn’t move a muscle, waiting until they’re at a complete standstill before cautiously looking around. Claire’s still got her hands over her head between her knees, shaking uncontrollably.

“Claire, honey, we’re here. It’s ok.”

Claire uncurls herself and looks out of the window. Two men in Dharma jumpsuits are approaching cautiously, and Richard races through the plane, throwing open the door and scrambling down the makeshift ladder. Kate can’t make out what they’re saying but everyone, including Frank, is crowding around the windows in this section of the fuselage, looking for any signs of trouble. Not that any of them are in a position to do anything if things do go south, but it’s good to have warning if nothing else.

After what feels like an age, the Dharma men head back towards the buildings and Richard turns to the plane, giving them two thumbs up and beckoning to them to join him on the ground.

Claire gives a small but genuine smile, and Kate returns it. The first hurdle has been negotiated. Only who knows how many more to go.

II.

The safehouse is small, all the better to keep it safe, Kate supposes. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small living room and an open plan kitchen-diner which is stuffed to the rafters with Dharma shelf stable food. Kate didn’t realise just how long it was since she last ate until she sees a box of cookies and her stomach growls ominously. In that moment, everything seems secondary to food, and the five of them visiting the safehouse for the first time sit around the kitchen counter, silently sating their hunger with whatever the hell they feel like but mostly sugar. Richard is going around making sure that the water and electrics are turned on and generally being the one in charge. It’s funny, Kate had always assumed that he would have the most trouble adapting to life off the island out of all of them, having spent so long there, but then again, they’re not really off the island yet. This is a neat and safe little haven of Others’ culture in the outside world, so he doesn’t have to brave society just yet.

Claire is still nervy as she eats, her eyes darting here, there and everywhere as she scarfs down granola bars as if they’re going out of fashion. Considering there’s a literal ton of food in the warehouse next door, Kate doesn’t think that they’re likely to run out any time soon.

At least the rest of the group aren’t looking at Claire as if she’s going to pull a knife on them at any moment. She left all her knives on the island for a start, and now she’s more scared of them than they are of her. They’re all returning to a social mindset that they never left, despite being displaced from that society physically. Claire did leave it, and the return is going to be tricky at best and damn near impossible at worst, but Kate refuses to believe that it is going to be entirely impossible.

Richard wanders in and out of the kitchen, talking to about five different people at once on two different phones. Maybe he’s calling Ben’s lawyer in LA to get all the legal difficulties smoothed over.

“Looks like we might be holed up in here for a while,” James says, wiping the cookie crumbs off his shirt and standing up. “Might as well explore our new home.”

There’s not a whole hell of a lot to explore so he’s soon back in the kitchen, but he has unearthed some spare clothes for them. The garments smell old and musty, and have a distinctly nineties vibe about them. Kate wonders if anyone’s used this safehouse within the last decade.

She bags one of the bedrooms for herself and Claire, and James and Miles call the other one. Frank’s just so happy to be away from the island that he’s content with the couch and it looks like Richard is going to be on the phone all night anyway, so he’s left out of the negotiations. Then they start to draw straws as to who gets to use the shower first, and great hilarity breaks out when sharing to conserve water is suggested. It’s good to see Claire laughing again, even if it is not as loud or as hard as the others.

“I’ll go last,” she says. “I think I’m going to take the longest to get clean. My clothes can probably stand up on their own.”

Kate knows that she isn’t just talking about dirt, though. Claire’s done so much in these last three years that she’s not proud of, horrific things in the misguided hope of reuniting with Aaron because Not-Locke has been pouring poison into her ears and no-one was around to save her or help her to save herself. Kate wonders why he wanted Claire so badly, out of all of them. He wanted her maternal rage and lack of scruples when it came to protecting her child, certainly, but even after they all came back and even after Aaron’s safety was revealed, he was determined to keep her with him, warning Kate against taking her back to society. He was practically desperate for Kate not to take Claire away from him. She’s crazy now, she’s dangerous, he said, as if he hadn’t been the one responsible for getting her into that unstable state in the first place.

Kate shivers at the thought of his obsession and what it might mean, and turns her attention back to Claire. It’s over, he’s dead, and Claire is finally safe from him.

It’s late into the night by the time everyone’s taken their turn and Richard and Frank have launched a covert mission to the warehouse to source more towels, soap and shampoo, but Kate is nowhere close to sleep. Claire emerges from the steamy bathroom in an ill-fitting t-shirt and jeans that she has to keep hitching up. She’s so small and skinny. Kate had forgotten just how short she was, and now that the softness of new motherhood has given way to years of hardship, she’s just so small. Kate wants to wrap her in blankets and not let the world touch her.

It’s been a spiritual cleanse as well as a physical one for Claire. Kate heard her crying below the trickle of the shower, and her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, but Kate doesn’t mention it. As much as she wants to hover and protect, Claire needs space as much as anyone else, perhaps moreso.

Although she’s clean now, her hair is still a messy bird’s nest, matted into one solid dreadlock at the back that water and shampoo have no hope of penetrating.

“Cutting it feels like giving up,” Claire says. “It feels like he’s won. It feels like I’m giving up that last part of who I was before.”

Kate thinks about Claire and her golden hair, always so long and lovely. Hair of gold, heart of gold.

She shakes her head. “Think of it as cutting off this part of your life,” she suggests. “Think of it more like a fresh start. It’ll grow again, and then you’ll be back to the person that you were before.”

“Yeah.” Claire pauses. “I’d like to keep as much of it as I can, though.”

Kate laughs. “Ok. Let’s see what we can do. Do you trust me? Near your neck with scissors and a comb?”

Claire nods. “Yes.” To give her credit, ever since that attack back in the forest and their making up after, Claire has not shown any sign of not trusting Kate.

The matted ponytail has to go, there’s no salvaging it. But an hour’s patient work with a comb straightens out the bird’s nest until it’s a dry, brittle, but tangle-free cloud curling around her ears. Claire gives Kate a half-hearted smile in the mirror.

“Thank you.”

“No worries.”

They continue to sit in the dimly lit room in silence, one at either end of the bed, both too keyed up from the day’s events to sleep.

“Mayo,” Claire says suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Mayonnaise.” A soft smile creeps over her face and for a moment she looks like the Claire that Kate first met on the beach, proclaiming her to be a Gemini. “It’s supposed to be a really good conditioning treatment for your hair.”

Kate laughs, not at the notion of mayonnaise as a conditioner, she’s heard similar claims before, but at the thought that Claire is still in there under all the fear and hardship. Now that she no longer has to watch her back all the time, a bit of that is bleeding through.

“All right,” she says. “Let’s find some mayo.”

Of course there’s mayo. The house is next to a Dharma packing plant, they have vats of the stuff. Claire smears it over what remains of her hair and deftly wraps her head in clingfilm and a towel.

“What?” she asks on seeing Kate looking at her.

“Nothing. It’s just you. Being girly like the old Claire.”

“Yeah.” Her smile fades. “I have to cling to whatever shades of that I can get now.”

“You’ll be ok,” Kate says. “You’ll come through this, I promise.”

There’s a knock on their door.

“Who is it?”

“Me.” It’s James’ voice. “I know you’re awake, I heard you talking.”

Kate and Claire look at each other and Claire nods; Kate goes over to let him in.

“You don’t mind me butting in on your girl talk? Miles is snoring so loud I can’t hear myself think.” He wrinkles his nose. “Why does it smell like mayo in here?”

“Claire’s trying to rescue her hair,” Kate says. James just stares at her in disbelief, because is that supposed to explain everything?

“With mayo?” he asks incredulously, and shakes his head. “I will never understand women.”

Kate snorts. “There are many things that I could say to that, James, but I won’t.”

They talk quietly for a little while, mainly expressing relief at being off the island. Claire goes to wash her hair again and the smell of mayo gradually fades. Maybe James is worried that Claire’s going to kill Kate in her sleep but as Kate finally feels exhaustion overtake her and she can’t help curling up and closing her eyes, she hears him say his goodnights and leave the room.

Claire’s weight on the bed doesn’t shift, and she’s still sitting wide awake when Kate stirs an hour or so later.

III.

When Kate wakes up the next morning – or perhaps afternoon, she’s got no idea how long she slept and she doesn’t know what time zone she’s in and she’s not entirely sure she’s in 2007 – Claire is gone from their room. It’s light outside, bright and sunny and so ill-reflecting of their loss. Tiptoeing out of the room, she sees who else is up and about, but it seems like it’s only Richard, outside on the phone again. How many calls does he need to make? Surely the Others have some kind of phone tree network they can activate when things go bad. Like, Jacob dying and his insane brother nearly wreaking destruction upon the earth bad.

Suddenly there’s a high-pitched scream and Kate reacts in an instant, rushing downstairs with James and Miles. It’s only halfway down that she realises that scream wasn’t Claire’s at all, but male.

“We’re ok!” Frank exclaims as they all bundle into the living room. Claire is peering over the back of the sofa and Frank has his hand on his heart. “We’re ok, we just gave each other a fright, that’s all.”

Kate doesn’t question why Claire is behind the sofa.

“Well, I guess we’re all awake now,” Miles says after a long, screamingly uncomfortable silence. “I’ll see if there are any Dharma powdered eggs for breakfast. You know, when we got off the island I thought that we were finally going to see the back of Dharma food. Man, I can’t wait to get out of this place…” He’s still complaining as he heads into the kitchen. Frank, recovered from his scare, just rolls his eyes and follows him.

“Miles, you should be grateful that there is Dharma food and that we’re not all in the middle of an underground government facility being experimented on.”

Left with just Kate and James, Claire extricates herself from behind the sofa and sits down on it. Her eyes are hard and challenging and daring them to chastise her. James accepts the challenge.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hisses. “You damn near gave all of us a heart attack!”

“James.”

Kate’s touch on his arm calms him and he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he says. “I know you’ve been through hell and I can’t hope to understand what it was like.”

“I’m used to hiding,” Claire mumbles. “When I was in the jungle, when they were hunting me, I had to hide. All the time. I don’t feel safe if I’m not hidden.” She pauses. “There wasn’t enough room under the bed.”

Kate crosses the room and sits on the sofa beside Claire, putting an arm around her as she stares down into her lap.

“I’m never going to be normal again, am I?” she asks quietly. “He took my mind and now he’s dead and he can’t give it back. What’s Aaron going to think of a mother who hides behind the sofa every night? What if…?”

“Stop,” Kate soothes her. “No more what ifs. You will get better, Claire. We will all help you. I’m here, I’ll help. Your mom’s out there, she’ll help.”

“My mum? That’s impossible, she’s in a coma, has been for years.”

“No. She’s awake, and she’s made an amazing recovery. She’s looking after Aaron right now.”

Claire just stares at her in disbelief for a long time, but then she crumples in Kate’s arms, loud, wailing, racking sobs that make her entire body shake.

“All the things I never thought I’d get the chance to say,” she manages to get out between sobs and hiccups. “All those years and I can finally say sorry…”

Kate rubs her back. “You will get better, and you will see your mom again,” she says firmly. “And you will be able to say all of those things to her in person.”

Claire nods.

“Don’t let him win, Claire,” James says. Kate had forgotten that he was still in the room with them. He’s finally come to the realisation that Claire isn’t acting this way for no reason, and that she’s been motivated by blind fear for so long that it’s a hard mindset to get out of. “You can’t let your past control your future. Believe me, I know all about that and you’ve got a few more years’ future than I have so make the most of it.”

Claire nods again, managing the tiniest of weak little laughs.

“I need a minute,” she says.

Kate lets go of her and follows James out of the room.

“Thank you,” she says, closing the door after them and giving Claire some privacy.

“Yeah, well, all this time I’ve been worrying about everyone else and not worrying about her because having seen her in action with a knife and a rifle I figured she could take care of herself and we’d all need protection from her. I guess I never stopped to think about how she was feeling. All those years on her own, and we didn’t try to help her.”

“You didn’t know. She just vanished.”

“Yeah, but she left Aaron behind and she’d never do that if she was in her right mind. Then with what happened with Sayid… I just didn’t connect the dots that that’s what happened with Claire too. She must’ve died in the strike on New Otherton. Just for a minute or so, but long enough for him to get her. If I could understand what was going on with Sayid, vaguely, then I ought to be able to understand what’s going on with her.”

Kate leans back against the wall, going over it all in her mind.

“It was different with Sayid though,” she says. “He said he stopped feeling emotion. Claire can definitely still feel.”

“Yeah, maybe too much at once sometimes.”

Kate gives a snort of laughter.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because she wasn’t dead as long. I guess we’ll never know.”

“Well, thank you, anyway.”

They go into the kitchen where Miles is serving what could almost be described as breakfast, to Frank’s disgust.

“We have Dharma powdered eggs and Dharma dehydrated bacon flavour slices,” he says, shovelling some onto plates for Kate and James. Kate’s not entirely sure that the concoction is edible.

“Miles, no offence, but you’re a lousy cook,” Frank says, prodding the solid lump of egg with his fork.

“I’d like to see you do better, Miles retorts. “I don’t see anyone else around here making breakfast.”

The banter continues back and for the as they brave the eggs, and Kate almost doesn’t notice when Claire slips into the kitchen and takes a seat at the table. Frank gives her a friendly smile to indicate no hard feelings, and Miles eagerly gives her food, and soon she’s laughing and joking with the rest of them. Maybe soon she’ll feel safe amongst them, and won’t resort to hiding behind the sofa.

IV.

Richard announces that their new identities will be ready in a couple of days; he’s just waiting for the courier. Somehow, Kate doesn’t think he’s talking about UPS. It’s the first indication that they’ve had of any prospective departure date from the Guam safehouse, and the sense of a definite future in the air makes Kate feel more confident that such a future will eventually materialise. With that in mind, it’s time to start making plans. Since there’s more likelihood that Claire will reunite with her mother, she should probably let her mother know that her trip back to the island was successful and forewarn her of Claire’s mental state, which is going to take some getting used to considering what Claire was like when Carole last knew her, an angry teenager raging against the world and everything in it.

She tracks Richard down in the kitchen.

“Hey, can I borrow one of your many phones, please?” she asks. “I need to call Claire’s mom and let her know we’re ok. She already knows about the island – well, sort of – so it’s not some giant security risk. And I think it would do Claire good to talk to her.”

Richard nods and hands over one of the phones, a cheap burner but practical enough.

Kate’s pleased she’s got a head for numbers, and dials Carole Littleton’s cell.

Carole picks up after two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hello Ms Littleton, it’s Kate Austen.”

“Kate? Did you… Did you find Claire?”

“Yes, I did. I’ve got her. We’re in Guam. Where are you? Are you still in Los Angeles or did you take Aaron back to Australia?”

“We’re back in Sydney, I didn’t know how long you were going to be and I didn’t want to be living out of the motel indefinitely… Is Claire there? Is she ok? Can I speak to her?”

Kate grimaces.

“Physically, she’s ok. Mentally… She went through hell on that island. She survived there alone for three years. She’s not exactly the same Claire that she was before.”

“Oh, my poor baby…”

“I’ll see if she wants to speak to you.” Kate moves through the house to where Claire is sitting on the sofa, fidgeting with her hands, feeling uncomfortable without a weapon in them.

“Claire? Honey, I have your mom on the phone.”

“Claire? Claire, can you hear me?”

Claire doesn’t respond, and Kate just holds out the phone to her ear.

“Claire? Baby, are you there?”

Claire’s expression melts and she takes the phone.

“Mum?”

She sounds so small and so young. Kate forgets she’s only twenty-five; she’s so world-weary and so old beyond her years as a result of her experiences.

“Mum, I can’t believe you’re ok, you’re awake… I never thought I’d hear your voice again. Oh God, I’ve missed you so much…”

Kate can’t hear the other half of the conversation and she feels uncomfortable eavesdropping, so she steps outside. The others are out there, playing some kind of game with empty Dharma beer cans. Kate tries to follow it but it’s clear that Miles is making up the rules as he goes along and nothing makes the slightest bit of sense, but the hilarity is enough to make up for it. To think that this time yesterday they were just landing here, unsure of what the future was going to hold for them, unsure how they were going to get off Guam and not quite believing that they’d managed to get here in one piece in the first place. Now they’re laughing and joking like nothing happened.

Except, they know what happened. They all do. They don’t want to talk about it because it is too fresh and raw, but that’s not to say that they are ignoring it completely. Kate’s noticed it in the way that they all fall silent sometimes, and no-one tries to get the conversation going again. They’ve all left a piece of themselves behind on that island, maybe some more than others, and they’re all glad to be leaving it behind, although perhaps they are yearning for the days that came before, when they were whole.

This is a fresh start for all of them. New lives, new identities, a clean slate in which to do the right thing and live the best life. Kate’s had so many new starts over the last couple of years that this feels almost familiar. The sense of relief but also the sense of loss, knowing how many people they’ve left behind, how few they managed to save.

She glances over at the living room window. Claire is still on the phone, although it seems to be a different phone now. Maybe she ran out of battery life on the other one. They’ve been talking for over an hour and poor Richard’s phone bill must be through the roof, but he doesn’t seem too concerned. Who knows who he’s been calling in all his many phone calls trying to arrange new identities for them all.

Eventually, Claire joins them outside, but she only has eyes for Kate, coming over and throwing her arms around her.

“Thank you,” she says, choked. “Thank you so much.”

It’s clear just how much she needed that talk with her mother, and it’s clear how much it has affected her from her puffy eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks, but Kate says nothing and just holds her.

When she pulls away, there’s something different about Claire’s bearing. She’s standing a little straighter, and there’s a little more determination in her face. Perhaps it was the conversation with her mother than gave her the impetus she needed to really take back control where it was wrested from her by Not-Locke so long ago.

“I’m going to see my mum again,” she says, and it’s a statement, a fact, nothing of disbelief in it. “I never thought I would, but I’m going to. She says that Aaron’s doing well and he’s been an angel for his grandma. I think she’s a bit in love with him already.”

“Well, no-one can meet Aaron and not instantly fall in love with him.”

Claire smiles. “I know I did.” She sighs. “I guess it’s the same as it always was before. I thought I’d be a terrible mother, I really didn’t think that I was going to be able to handle it, but I did, and in those couple of months that I was with Aaron, I couldn’t imagine a life without him, a life where I’d given him up. But then I did give him up, somehow, somewhere, although I don’t remember how, and it got to the stage where I could barely remember what life was like with him. History’s repeating itself. He’s coming back into my life, and I’m certain that I’m going to be a terrible mum, I mean, look at me. But I’ve done it once before. Maybe I can do it again?”

She’s so unsure and questioning, but at least she’s entertaining the possibility, which she wasn’t doing before.

Kate smiles. “You will.”

That night, Claire approaches her predicament with her new-found determination, and stands staring at the bed in her and Kate’s room for a long time, as if she’s trying to work out the best strategy to defeat it. Finally, she leaves the room, and for a moment Kate thinks that she’s going to retreat behind the sofa again, although that would mean that the living room would get rather crowded as Richard is sleeping in there too tonight.

“I’m not diving behind the sofa again,” she calls over her shoulder as she leaves, as if she can read Kate’s mind.

She returns with a kitchen chair and spare blankets, and sets about constructing herself a makeshift tent in the corner of the room. Once she’s shoved pillows and sheets in there, it actually looks rather nice and cosy, and she crawls into her little blanket fort, curling up ready to sleep. Her hair falls over her face where it’s too short to tie back properly, and for a moment it looks a little bit like a halo.

She pushes it aside and looks up at Kate.

“This is better,” she says. “A compromise to start with.”

Kate nods and gets into bed, and the two of them continue to talk quietly for a little while. It feels a bit like a teenage sleepover, both of them tired but neither of them really wanting to go to sleep just yet for fear of what nightmares might come over them. Kate can’t stop thinking about all the things that have happened, and she really doesn’t want to relive them in her dreams. They talk about silly little random things, like Dharma food and what the guys in the packing plant next door must think about the strange little motley crew of travellers who just descended into their workplace.

Eventually though, Claire falls asleep in her tent, and Kate watches her for a moment before succumbing herself. It’s nice to see her at peace for once.

The next morning, Kate is on edge when someone lets themselves into the safehouse with a key. It’s a middle-aged woman with a duffel bag over one shoulder and the weary expression of someone who’s spent a long time travelling. She doesn’t seem at all surprised to see the castaways there, she just shouts to Richard that she’s there. He appears from around the side of the house in the direction of the warehouse where he’s been smoothing things over with the Dharma packers.

“Eloise sent me,” the woman says to Kate by way of explanation.

Richard shows her into the living room and although they leave the door open, no-one goes in. Curiosity gets the better of Kate however, and she listens in at the doorway when it seems like their conversation is coming to a close.

“Richard, I know that you would only ever leave the island on a permanent basis if something terrible happened,” the woman is saying.

Richard nods and lets out a long breath, as if he has to prepare himself mentally for what comes next.

“Jacob’s dead,” he says eventually.

“I see.” The woman is silent for a long time. Kate wonders how many other Others there are out here in the real world – strange adjective to use, she knows, since the island was as real as any other part of this world – who don’t know about what happened a week ago and don’t know that their beloved leader and demi-god is dead.

“Richard, when you and Jacob sent me on this mission seven years ago, I was honoured to do it, but I miss the island,” the woman continues. “If Jacob is dead and there’s a new order to things like you say, does that mean I can go home? Is that even possible?”

Richard shakes his head and spreads his hands in defeat.

“I don’t know,” he says. None of them know. When they were leaving, everything was still so up in the air. Were Jack and Hurley successful in replacing the heart of the island and setting everything to rights? “Now that I’ve left, I don’t know where it is any more. But if it’s possible to get back, then Eloise will tell you how to get there.”

“Can I go home, Richard? Or will I still be needed out here?”

“I think that you can go home, Cam. There’s a new man in charge now, and if the island’s still there, then I don’t think he’ll be running things in the same way that Jacob always used to. You’ll be welcome. You’ve done very valuable work for us, and you deserve to go home.”

If Hurley is in charge of the island, as Kate thinks he probably is by now, then everyone will be welcome.

“Thank you, Richard.”

“Who was that?” Kate asks, after the woman leaves.

“That was Camilla. Someone needs to stay off the island to liaise with Eloise and make sure that our cover identities are straight for when we have to leave the island for whatever reason. That’s always been Cam’s job, but I don’t think that her services are going to be required anymore. Speaking of which, though.”

He holds up a huge stack of passports and identity documents. “That’s the reason she came. Dropping off our new lives.”

The paperwork gets divided into individual stacks on the kitchen table and everyone looks through their own. Eloise, Camilla and Dan Norton have been busy, Kate thinks, and she’s impressed by how in depth their new cover identities have been made in just a couple of days.

Victoria Katherine Hope, hers reads. Claire is Alexandra Claire Carter. She doesn’t get a good enough look at the others; presumably they’ll all come to light in good time.

She’s holding a new life in the palm of her hand, like she has done so many times, every time she’s changed her identity over the past few years. This time it feels more real. It’s less a pseudonym and more an entirely different person. All her identities were different people with different backgrounds, different ways to make in the world, but this one feels different because it’s not one of her own making; it’s something that someone’s given to her like a gift. Another chance.

The only thing that jars Kate is the fact that her new passport photograph looks uncomfortably like her mug shot, but if everything else checks out then she’s sure – well, she’s hopeful – that her passport won’t arouse suspicion.

“It’s strange,” Claire says, looking at the new passport, the only Australian one among the bunch. (Apparently Richard was asked if he wanted his to be Spanish to reflect his birthplace but he declined and now Richard Alpert was born in New York in 1965, not the Canaries a century and a half ago.)

“What’s strange?”

“It’s like I’m a whole different person,” she muses. “Someone who’s not me. I can pretend to be someone else now. Someone who’s normal.”

It twists something inside Kate to hear her speak like that.

“You’re still Claire,” she says. Maybe that’s the entire reason why they let them keep their real names in there somewhere. “You’ll always be Claire, no matter what the papers say.”

No matter how hard she tried to run away from it, she was always Kate. Now, though, that doesn’t seem like so bad a person to be.

VI.

Claire’s little blanket fort in the corner of the bedroom seems to be working, and she’s still sleeping in there quite happily when Kate wakes up the next morning. The feeling of being enclosed is obviously just the protection she needs to feel hidden and safe. Idly, Kate thinks of mosquito netting and drapes around four poster beds, or the little princess drapes that were available when she was redecorating Aaron’s room back in LA. Maybe one of those would be enough to keep Claire calm when they get back to civilisation. Just something as an extra layer between her and the outside world whilst she’s asleep and vulnerable.

There’s just one more night here and then they’ll be leaving this halfway house in a strange limbo, and will be returning to the real world. Kate will reunite with Aaron, Claire will reunite with her mother. They can truly begin a healing process that they can’t really get started with here in the safehouse in Guam. They need time and they need interaction with other people, and whilst they have all the time in the world here, they don’t have other people, and soon, with so many personalities in such a small space, tempers are going to fray.

Kate is infinitely grateful for the phone call between Claire and her mother. Kate can give her as much encouragement that she can and tell Claire over and over again that she’s going to be ok, and that Kate will help her through this as will everyone else in the house, but hearing it from her mother is different. It’s what’s given Claire the will to move on and the drive to get better, rather than thinking that it would be impossible. She knows it will be difficult, but she’s damned if she’s going to give up. She knows she needs help, but that’s not going to stop her trying to help herself as much as she can. She wants to get back to Aaron, she wants to get back to her mother, and she knows that she can’t in her current state.

It’s a long road ahead of them, but Kate can walk it with her. There’s nothing tying her down anywhere, there never has been. Her life has always been transient, until Aaron came into it. Aaron had grounded her in LA, but now Aaron is no longer in LA. Aaron is in Sydney with his grandmother, and so that’s where Kate will go too. She will go wherever Claire and Aaron will take her, and once Claire is ready to be Aaron’s mom again, then Kate will decide what comes next. There’s nothing holding her down, but at the same time, there’s nothing to keep her moving either. With a new identity, she also has a new life. There’s no need to run.

It’s strange, Kate thinks. Aaron had been the one to keep her in one place when she had been in LA, and even with the restrictions on her movement, she had never once felt the desire to move or run away with him - well, until Dan Norton had turned up on the doorstep of course, and that was constructed anyway. Now it is Claire who has given her a reason to stay in one place.

It’s family, Kate realises, and all the old quotes about home being people and not a place seem to ring true now.

It’s early days, of course. There are still several hurdles to be got over, but now all the logistics have been sorted out and their return to society will be as seamless as possible, there are fewer large external influences to worry about and she and Claire can turn their attentions to the task at hand - getting Claire better.

Kate wanders down to the kitchen where the others are already up. Frank is making breakfast - Miles has been categorically banned from cooking after his efforts on that first morning. Looking through the cupboards in search of cereal, Kate sees an unopened jar of peanut butter on the shelf and smiles. She’s surprised it’s still there. Maybe Claire just hasn’t seen it. She gets herself some cereal and takes the peanut butter, heading back up to her and Claire’s room and setting the jar down beside her little fort, ready for when she wakes up.

She doesn’t have all that long to wait. Claire screws her face up and opens her eyes, and she doesn’t startle or jump up to defend herself. She looks around, still wary, and Kate thinks that she’ll be still wary for a long time to come. But she can see that she’s safe, and then she sees the peanut butter and her face breaks into a wide smile, grabbing the jar and immediately digging into it.

“You remembered,” she said, and the noise she makes as she sucks that first scoop of creamy peanut butter off her finger is almost obscene.

“Yeah. You know, you once said that you were the only Australian in the world that liked peanut butter.”

Claire nods with a laugh, no doubt remembering a long ago conversation in which that came out.

“Well, I can tell you that’s categorically not true,” Kate says. Claire just raises an eyebrow, challenging her. “Aaron loves it,” she added.

Claire grins, and Kate realises that it’s the first time they’ve really spoken about Aaron since they were reunited on the island. Apart from establishing that he’s well and he’s being looked after by safe hands whilst Kate is here on the island, they haven’t spoken about him in himself and how he’s been doing for these past three years. Obviously at first they had too much else on their minds to occupy themselves with small talk as well, and then Claire didn’t want to think about Aaron because she didn’t want to think about what she had become. But now, it seems that talking about him doesn’t bring her pain.

“That’s going to be interesting for Mum looking after him,” Claire says. “She can’t stand the stuff. She could never understand how I could eat it all the time. Now she’s got Aaron eating it as well.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely his mother’s son in that regard.”

“What else does he like?” Claire gets out of her blanket fort and sits on the bed with Kate, peanut butter still in hand, and she leans in, wanting to know everything.

“Well, he’s a chocolate fiend as well, but I think that you can blame me for that one,” Kate says. “He likes dinosaurs and robots and spacemen and he can’t decide which is his favourite, it changes every day.”

Claire is rapt, and so Kate continues.

“His favourite story is Alice in Wonderland. Jack used to read it to him…”

The thought of Jack brings her up short, and a lump in her throat stops her from going on. It’s the first brutal reminder that Jack is not there anymore, and Jack is never going to be there again, and the pain runs deep. She squeezes her eyes shut against the tears that threaten to fall.

Claire licks her fingers clean and closes the peanut butter jar, wiping her hands on her too-large jeans and holding out her arms for Kate as she gives into her grief and crumples against Claire. Something in the back of her mind keeps telling her that it’s the wrong way round, that she should be the one staying strong for Claire, whereas a voice that sounds remarkably like Claire’s own is telling her that she can’t do this alone and that she can’t stay strong all the time; she has the right to cry and grieve just as everyone else does.

“It’ll be ok,” Claire soothes. “You keep telling me that everything’s going to be ok, so I think the same applies to you. Everything will be all right in the end.”

Another part of Kate wonders how everything can be, after everything that they’ve lost, but she doesn’t let that part speak, squashing it down beneath her misery and letting herself cry.

When she finally quietens, she feels better than she has done ever since she left the island.

Claire looks the most like the old Claire, too.

VII.

It’s time to head out into the big wide world again. The time spent in the safehouse has been useful, allowing them to regroup and begin to make the changes and the first steps towards healing, but they need to get out of it now and rejoin that world, putting those first steps into tangible practice. They can’t make progress here, they can only make the first steps and then stagnate.

Everyone is going to different places and everyone’s flights leave at different times. Kate and Claire are the first to go to catch their plane to Sydney, and there’s a sombre and heartfelt leave taking outside the house. Everyone holds onto each other so long and so hard it’s like they never want to let go. They’ve all been through so much together and although they all promise to keep in touch, Kate knows how easy it is to lose touch with people. She hopes that everything they’ve been through will cement that bond and make their desire to remain in touch even stronger. After all, these six people are the only people in the world who know what happened on that island, and since they’re the only people they can talk to about it and try to make sense of it, then that has to count for something.

Richard has borrowed the packing plant’s Dharma van and is ferrying people to the airport. Kate wonders what he’s going to do now, since the island that has been his home for so long. He’s going to LA with Miles and James, and maybe he’ll get to see life afresh with eyes that can appreciate it.

Although Claire looks calm, she’s fidgeting with her hands again in that way that she never used to do before. Perhaps it’s the idea of getting on a plane for a long-haul flight again considering what happened on her last one. Maybe it’s the thought of meeting her mother again after so long. That conversation they had has cleared a lot of the air but there is so much still left unsaid between them, and of course, Carole has no real idea of the extent of things that Claire has gone through over the last three years.

She had said that she didn’t want Aaron to see her like this. That probably extends to her mother as well. She no longer looks as feral as she did on the island, but even then the aura of the island still hangs around her, in her ill-fitting clothes and nervous posture. But Carole will understand, Kate thinks. She might never hope to understand exactly what has happened to Claire and Kate doubts that Claire will ever reveal the full details, but she will understand that Claire’s mental state is not what it was when she left Australia, that she doesn’t see things in the way she used to, in the way that a person who has not been affected as she has will. That’s something that Aaron won’t understand.

Getting out of the van outside Guam airport, their few belongings packed in a single bag between them, with new ID at the ready and a cover story firmly in place should anyone question it, Kate and Claire say their final goodbyes to Richard and promise to contact him and the others once they are back on their feet. It feels like coming back to civilisation after a week in a quiet limbo, and even Kate is unnerved by the noise and bustle of the airport after the peace of the safehouse. Still, they get through to departures without any fuss and as they sit waiting for their plane in companionable silence, Claire’s hands are finally still.

“Are you looking forward to going back home?” Kate asks.

She nods, and a little smile creeps over her face.

“I didn’t realise how much I missed it until we were driving up the road towards the airport. Now I can’t wait to get back, even though I know what’s waiting for me there.”

A long and painful uphill struggle. Kate doesn’t need to ask. Still, it’s an improvement on where she was a week ago when she almost didn’t leave the island, believing that she didn’t deserve a fresh start at a life on the outside.

The plane ride is tense; with Claire grabbing Kate’s hand every time they go over the slightest bit of turbulence, but they finally land in Sydney airport without incident. Kate can’t quite believe it. They’re here. They’re ok. They’re truly back in the real world and now the rest of their lives can begin.

Customs and passport control take forever, although they have no luggage, which helps matters along. Maybe it’s the fact that they have no luggage which makes passport control take so much longer. Kate is used to the worry that comes when using a new fake document in an official capacity for the first time, so she knows how to tamp down her fear and appear non-plussed. Claire’s only ever used fake ID for buying alcohol underage, not trying to get into the country of her birth.

Finally, just at the moment when Kate thinks they’re going to get pulled off to one side and interrogated, they’re let through, and they find themselves in the arrivals hall.

Claire looks around nervously. There are a hell of a lot of people, more people than she’s been around for a long time. She’s curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible, and she hides herself behind Kate as they move through the crowds of people.

Finally Kate spots the person they’re looking for and grabs Claire’s hand, guiding her through the melee towards where Carole is waiting at the back of the arrivals area. She looks as nervous as they feel, but she breaks into a smile when she sees Kate. She probably hasn’t seen Claire yet, and she looks around, peering around Kate to try and see her daughter.

Claire hangs back, all the old fears stopping her in her tracks as Kate approaches Carole.

“Hi,” she says. “Thanks for coming to meet us.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Aaron’s with a babysitter, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to bring him along.”

She’s still looking over Kate’s shoulder, and Kate can forgive her that. She steps out of the sight line and mother and daughter set eyes on each other for the first time in far too long.

“Mum…”

In the midst of the busy airport with so many heartfelt reunions going on, no-one really pays any attention to Claire and Carole both crying their eyes out as they cling to each other like limpets.

“Thank you,” Carole says to Kate over Claire’s shoulder, her voice choked with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

VIII.

The next couple of weeks are strange.

Claire is not ready to see Aaron again, she says so herself as they drive back towards Carole’s house from the airport.

“I’m not ready. I need to get used to normal life for myself before I can think about taking care of Aaron again.” Kate can see just how badly she wants to get back to Aaron, but the fact that she’s aware of her own mental state is probably a good sign.

So things are in a little limbo for a while. Kate rents a little place just around the corner from Carole and lives there with Aaron, as he needs a mom in his life and since Kate is around, it would be strange for him to see her and recognise her and yet not have her acting as his mom. Claire moves back in with Carole, but Kate spends a lot of time there, and Carole spends a lot of time with Aaron, because ultimately, Kate knows what Claire went through and can understand some of her mindset better than Carole can ever hope to.

Aaron doesn’t seem to mind all the going back and forth between his grandmother and the woman he’s always known as his mother. He’s seen Claire in passing, in Carole’s house, but they’ve never been formally reintroduced.

But after two weeks, the three of them think that the time is right, and it needs to be sooner rather than later. Claire is still retreating to blanket forts in the night, and still doesn’t sleep well, but she and Carole and Kate are building up coping mechanisms for her now, and bending their lifestyles a little to accommodate her habits. The scariest parts are when she zones out, fidgeting with her hands and staring into the middle distance, and it can take several attempts to get her back in the room with them. But it’s a start. She’s moving in the right direction, however slowly, and being reintroduced to Aaron will hopefully help her progress and give her something to keep fighting for.

Carole and Claire come round to Kate’s place, and Kate sits Aaron down in the living room.

“Aaron, there’s someone really important who you need to meet, ok? So I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

Aaron looks at her soberly and Kate begins.

“You know I’ve been your mommy for a long time, Aaron. Well, when you were very little, when you were still a baby, before I was your mommy, you had another mommy, your first mommy, and she loved you very much.”

“Why isn’t she my mommy now?” Aaron asked.

“Well, a long time ago, when you were still a baby, a bad man took your first mommy away and he made her very sick. So, I became your mommy, because you needed someone to look after you and your first mommy couldn’t. But now, your first mommy is back.”

“What about the bad man?”

“He’s gone, sweetie. He can’t hurt you or me or your mommy again.”

“Is my other mommy still sick?”

Kate sighs, because Claire’s still got a long way to go before she’ll be close to normal again, but the sooner she gets reintroduced to Aaron and can start to become a part of his life again, the sooner she will recover - both Carole and Kate are sure of it. The longer they wait for her to become stable again before the reintroduction is made, then the longer she’ll take to become stable.

“She’s getting better,” Kate says. “She’ll be well again soon, and she’s going to come and live with us whilst she gets better. But you see, Aaron, she hasn’t seen you since you were a baby and she really wants to see you again. Will you come with me and say hello?”

Aaron nods and Kate takes his little hand, leading him through to the kitchen where Carole and Claire are waiting. Claire’s hands are shaking with nerves and she hides them under the table when she sees Aaron.

“Hey Aaron! You’ve got so big! You were a teeny tiny little thing when I last saw you. Oh baby, I missed you so much. I’m so sorry I left you, and I promise I’ll never leave you again.”

“You’re my first mommy?” Aaron asks.

“Yes.” Claire’s voice is wobbly and there are tears in her eyes. “I’m your first mummy. My name’s Claire.”

“Claire. Are you the Claire grandma talks about?”

Claire nods. “Yes. That’s me.” There’s a long pause, no-one quite sure what to do next other than let the encounter run its course. Finally Claire speaks again. “Can I… Can I hug you? Please?”

Aaron nods amiably and Kate’s never seen Claire move so quickly. She’s down on the floor with her arms around her son in a matter of seconds.

“Why are you crying, Mommy Claire?” Aaron asks.

“Because I’m just so happy to see you, Aaron.”

And that’s how it begins, the rest of their lives. Aaron still calls Kate Mommy, but Claire doesn’t seem to care as long as he calls her Mommy too. Kate is still the one he runs to first if he gets hurt, if he’s happy about something and wants to share, but Claire is the one he goes to if he wakes with nightmares, because she’s more likely to be awake.

Claire is the one he goes to when he’s scared, because she’s scared too, and they can make each other braver.

It began after Aaron met Claire on the landing once, on one of the occasions when she was unable to sleep and so was wandering around the house to double check that they were all safe, and investigating the disturbance, Kate found them curled up together in Claire’s blanket fort.

“Why do you sleep in a tent sometimes, Mommy Claire?”

“It makes me feel safe.”

“Can I come in and be safe too?”

“Of course. There’s room for one more.”

Kate watches them unseen through the crack between the door and its frame, and she smiles. Piece by little piece, they are putting Claire back together again, and in doing so, Kate feels, she is putting herself back together as well.

#Lost Fanfic #Claire Littleton #Kate Austen #post-finale #canon compliant #post-season 6 #Fic: Reconstructing Claire

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shouter-to-dead-parrots · 3 years

Text

Short Story - “The Adjustment”

“The Director will not like your report”, said Eleanor. “What you propose is insane. How the hell are you going to sell that shit to anyone?”

“The numbers are all there, Eleanor”, I replied. “I don’t like what they say either, but I’ve run them a hundred times with deviations on the scenarios and the results are the same - plus or minus five percent.”

“Plus or minus 50 million,” she said. “That just can’t be true, Adam. Did you use the standard projection algorithms?”

“And the advanced, and the experimental, and the old ones. They all gave essentially the same answer. All of the projections eventually converged within five percent of each other. Three tracks came in less than one percent apart.

“These numbers are as solid as our computers can make them. Is this unbelievable? Is this totally insane? Is it a ride on the WT&F? Hell yes. I wish they weren’t.”

The comm on Eleanor’s desk beeped. “He will see you now. I don’t know if I should wish you good luck or not.”

I smiled at Eleanor and replied “I don’t know either.”

I entered the Director’s office and walked up to the desk.

“Projection Statistician Adam Mackensie sir.”

“Sit down, Mr. MacKensie”, said the Director. “This is one hell of a projection you have here,” he said, holding up the data pad on which I could see my report. “Where the hell did you get this from?”

“The upcoming year is a major inflection point in some major countries. We know many of the current actors will be contending for power. While the behavior of some of these individuals is difficult to project, a distribution analysis of their past actions does provide a basis for calculating their future actions.”

“You mention here that psychological aspects of the prime individual remain a wild card in these calculations. Explain.”

“Psychological aspects are a wild card because there is no accepted method for factoring them into the projection process. Several experimental frameworks exist but they appear to have very little shared theory and processes - no easily located common ground. For that reason I have not included such data into my projections. However as noted in footnote four, one reasonable approximation of psychological aspects of individuals can be to increase the randomness factor in certain modelings. I have done so for data sets six, eight and nine, for which this idea appears most applicable. The original computations are, of course, also included.”

“I noticed that. Your randomization factoring gives some very interesting and also disturbing results. In fact I find all your results disturbing. If true, these projections are extremely disturbing. If not true, then this deviation from your usual standard of work is disturbing.”

“I understand,” I replied. “I hope these numbers are wrong, that I missed something important, that I made an impulsive conclusion which is not really backed by the data. I am very disturbed by these projections.

“But I know that just because I am not sure about a projection, that does not mean it should be dismissed. Even if what I learn from it is what not to do in the future, all projections have value, even if they are wrong.”

The Director leaned back in his chair, listening. After an eternal few seconds of silence, he leaned forward, placing his arms on the desk.

“I believe that you believe your projections. I find no procedural or process errors in your computations. I have no objections to your source data, though I think some of it is well outside our usual information acquisition channels, but that is how we get answers - ‘Listen To Everything’.

“You are not the first Projection Statistician to bring me a report like this. Two others very similar have landed on my desk in the last three months. They were also disturbing and in places, terrifying.

“Now I have three data points - although your projection is not as … colorful as one your colleague’s. But they all say essentially the same thing.”

“Thank you sir,” I replied. “It is reassuring to know that others have followed the bread crumb trail and reached the same destination.”

“Now,” the Directory continued, “About this possible ‘adjustment’ of yours. No one else has suggested much in the way of revectoring their projections - such things are usually way above the paygrade of a Projection Statistician.”

“Indeed so, sir. I assure you that my projections were not influenced by my theoretical adjustments. The adjustments are the product of counter-scenario infraction point analysis. “

“Yes, I recognized the structure of the adjustment scenario. But this is the most extraordinary adjustment I have ever seen. It is also the most unbelievable and horrible one I have seen.”

“Yes sir, I am aware that this may fall into the category of world-wide effect with long-term alteration of societal and economic structures.”

“Well, that’s one way of saying it. I trust you know what happened the last time an adjustment of this type was employed. It was meant to quickly end a terrible war but indirectly caused another more horrible and murderous war. I’m not sure we made the right choice.”

“I agree that the 1918 adjustment had severe unexpected consequences. As did those of 1940 and 1943. I am fully aware of the hubris of attempting such large scale adjustments. Understand that I would not have even worked on a counter-action had not the conclusions of all these projections converged at the same place at slightly different times.”

“This idea of yours would.. “

“Cause considerable damage and losses, but still orders of magnitude less than the projections.”

“I am not sure that I can agree with you on that,” said the Director. “Our goal is to avoid as much trouble as possible, to smooth the road as well as we can - fill the holes, remove the rocks, put up guard rails. We don’t blow up the road.”

“I consider this placing tire spikes on the road,” I replied. “We can see the bus weaving from side to side at a dangerous speed. We know the driver is reckless and none of the passengers who can speak to him will be listened to.

“I am telling you that the bus is soon going to take out a guard rail and crash into the ravine, killing many and wounding more. Ripping up the tires will not stop the bus, but they won’t be going fast enough to breach the guard rails. Yes,the bus will be damaged and quite likely a number of the passengers killed, but more will walk away than be carried and the driver will be pulled from behind the wheel.”

“Are you sure about that?” asked the Director.

“No way in hell,” I replied. “The probability distribution here is totally insane. A million things could go wrong - and the outcome would still be better than letting the bus fall down the cliff.”

“You estimate the loss at about 1.3 billion, plus or minus 50 million. Your adjustment comes in at about 10 to 12 million. Still a lot.”

“The difference between going over the edge and smacking up against the guard rail. I am not happy with any of those numbers. I don’t want any of them to be right - I want them all to be so damn small that everyone gives me shit about it.”

The Director is quiet for another eternity.

“Adam, I believe your projections. Your work is as solid as anything I have seen in years. So is the work of your colleagues who came to the same conclusion. If things continue as they are, certain powers will consider themselves totally unrestrained. What is already bad for many will become horrible. It will only take a small match to start a huge fire.”

“And finally the long knives,” I said. “Eight-nine percent probability of another world war within three years. At best there would be about 100 million dead during the first week. Then more war, more bombings, more genocide, more dying of a rampant contagion. Hundreds of millions die in the vacuum where governments used to be. My number of 1.3 billion sounds insane, but every projection gets there within twelve months of the war starting.”

“But your way could also kill millions”, said the Director. “Do you really believe that this would properly adjust the vector?”

“All evidence indicates that Actor One would fail to manage such a crisis, bringing forth a chaotic response that would cause great suffering and damage and that would be enough.”

“Have you considered the unexpected side effects or consequences of this plan?”

“All that I can without trying to factor in more psychological vectors. But yes, there will be unexpected side effects. There always are.”

“Sometimes the ‘side effects’ are more important and more remembered than the actual actions taken. And more deadly.”

“Yes sir, there are a lot of wildcards in this game, and we don’t even know how many cards are in the deck, much less who is the dealer. We will have to deal with that when it comes up.”

“Not ‘if’?”

“We both know the answer to that,” I said.

“How do you get the tacks on the road?” asked the Director.

“The same way you always do - let people do what people do, despite being told how bad or dangerous it is. But we will have to do a nudge here and there to keep up the momentum. We both know that won’t take more than a couple of months. And we have less than a month to take action.”

“Why hasn’t this crossed my desk earlier?”

“I did not believe that a projection of this grave a nature should be presented without at least the outline of a possible adjustment or revectoring. I ran many scenarios, tweaking the parameters to come up with something better. Time has run out for that.”

“Indeed, the Board of Governors will not meet for two more weeks. That does place a considerable time restraint on this plan. I suppose I could authorize this as an emergency act, or conduct a flash poll of the Governors, but I suspect some of them would have considerable problems with this proposal.”

“I believe you are correct about that,” I said. “Taking into account the composition of the Board, I agree with your assessment.”

“Well thank you Mr. Mackensie. You have left me with much to think about - and have nightmares about.”

The Director and I rose from our chairs. We shook hands and I turned to leave. I was just about at the door when he spoke to me again.

“You are right. That son-of-a-bitch is going to get us all killed. This is an insane way to get rid of him, but I haven’t yet been presented with an idea that isn’t a hell of a lot messier. It may be that we sacrifice the lives of millions than lose billions later. We shouldn’t have that power. No one should have that power. Only God should have that power, and oh are we not presumptuous to believe that we are fit to wield it.”

“This was not what I signed up for either,” I said. “Maybe we are better off not knowing?”

“You and I know that is bullshit.”

I nodded in agreement.

“I dare not authorize this, you know that?”

“Yes sir, I know that.’

“What would it take?”

“All you need is a living body in the right place at the right time,” I said.

“Aren’t you due for some time off? You have been working very hard. Take a trip - see some exotic corner of the world. And then go to Europe, Russia - take the Grand Tour.”

“Thank you sir, but although I do not complain about my compensation, such an undertaking is well beyond my means.”

“That can be managed, Mr. Mackensie. That can be managed.”

The look on the Director’s face stifled any questions I might have had. I understood. Oh fucking hell I understood.

“Yes sir, good day sir.” I walked out the door of the Director’s office and heard it close behind me.

“How did it go?” asked Eleanor. “Still got your job?”

I looked her in the eyes. Within seconds she understood. Her face went pale.

“Oh shit”, she said.

“Oh shit,” I replied.

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luki-fanfic · 7 years

Text

Bleach Fanfic: Daydream

So I’ve been meaning to work on my KHR fics, but this idea (which has been lying in my documents for months) decided it absolutely had to be written right now, so I smashed out enough for a first chapter. Hopefully will be continued, but I’ve mostly got ideas rather than a plot right now.

Warnings for attempted suicide (sort of - character doesn’t think they’ll die when they do it, but still deserves the warning)

“It’s working!”

“It does appear to be neutralising the effects.

Ichigo winced, trying to ignore the voices surrounding him.

After he’d collapsed from defeating Aizen, Ichigo had found himself floating in a hazy blackness. The voices of Zangetsu and his hollow were gone, and he’d never realised just how empty it was without them.

It could have been minutes, it could have been years, but eventually Ichigo found the sea of nothing ebbing away, blurry noises turning into voices that sounded slightly familiar.

“If these results are right, he should wake up in the next hour.”

“Oh Ichigo, my baby boy…just wait a little bit longer.”

“Lady Shiba, I need you to wait outside while we administer the last dose. Your husband has been contacted and is on his way.”

Ichigo groaned, the darkness fading away and his senses returning with painful clarity.

Damn, Unohana must have him on some good stuff. That second voice had sounded almost like his mother.

It took a ridiculously long time to open his eyes – it felt like they’d been welded shut – and when he finally did, the light from the room had him slamming them shut again. The next time he tried, he managed to endure it, and tried to sit up.

He regretted it almost instantly. His arms collapsed under his own weight, crashing back onto the pillow.

What was going on? He’d expected to wake up in agony, but instead he just felt…weak. His arms were more like noodles, and his chest was heaving just from that small act.

Just how long had he been asleep for his muscles to atrophy that badly?

“Good afternoon Ichigo.”

He jerked his head in the direction of the voice. Unohana was watching over the bed, a pleased smile on her face.

“I must say it’s a great pleasure to see you awake,” she said. “And I’m not the only one.”

“Unohana?” Ichigo croaked. “What happened? How long was I out for?”

His eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Even with a dry throat, that was terrifyingly high.

“A very long time Ichigo” Unohana told him. “But there’s someone here who has been waiting just as long to see you again.”

She moved towards the door, opening it and speaking to whoever was waiting outside.

“He’s awake, are you ready to see him?”

Ignoring the frailness, Ichigo forced himself into a sitting position, trying to see who Unohana was talking to. He assumed it would be Rukia or Renji – but those musings immediately fled his head when he finally got into position and actually got a good look at himself.

This is not his body. At least…it hasn’t been for almost a decade. He’s short, and his arms are soft and chubby, lacking any kind of muscle. This isn’t the body of a warrior. It’s not even the body of a teenager.

It’s the body of a child.

“Ichigo…oh Ichigo…”

He looks up, and freezes.

It’s his mother. Wearing a kimono he’s never seen, but her face is exactly the same as it was that rainy night.

Her hands are covering her mouth, eyes brimming with unshed tears. Before Ichigo can process what he’s seeing, she moves – arms wrapping around him and hugging him tightly.

“My baby boy!” she sobs. “I’m so sorry. I never should have left you alone – I swear, I’ll never let you out of my sight again!”

“I think that might be a bit of an over-reaction Lady Shiba” Unohana added, as his mother reluctantly pulled away. She smiled, eyes still wet as she brushed a hand through his hair, and paused when she took in the shocked look on Ichigo’s face.

“Ichigo, what’s wrong?” she asked, pulling away as Ichigo shook his head.

“No…”

His mother frowned. “No? No, you’re not okay, Ichigo what-”

“I said no!” Ichigo snapped, head shaking furiously. “I don’t believe this! I don’t believe any of this! You’re not real! I’m not falling for this Aizen!”

The illusion’s face fell, and her hands reached for him again.

“Ichigo, what are you-“

“Don’t touch me!”

He slaps them away, and Unohana pulls the illusion back.

“Maybe it’s best if you gave him some space. Come with me Lady Shiba.”

She was clearly reluctant, but the illusion of his mother let herself be guided out the room while Ichigo tried to push back the panic attack that was threatening to bubble to the surface.

Dammit, when had Aizen hit him? How had he hit him? His shikai was a frustrating nightmare, but Ichigo was pretty certain it wasn’t capable of this level of hypnosis.

Unless…was this Aizen’s bankai? The ability to trap someone in a false world? But then when had it started? Aizen was down for the count when he blacked out, so it must have been during the fight.

In that case…

‘Zangetsu? Old man, are you there?’

His heart sank when he failed to hear an answer. So, sometime after Ichigo thought he’d cut Aizen down, but before Kisuke showed up.

Is he unconscious in the real world? Or are his allies just watching him in horror? Was that illusion of his mother really someone else?

He has to get out of here. Find somewhere isolated and fix whatever this is.

With a quick glance at the door, he yanks off the blanket and heads straight for the window. Or at least he tries to – he’d forgotten his apparent shrinkage and misjudges the landing. But even if he had, it would have been the least of his issues - his legs buckle and he crashes to the ground, not even attempting to support his weight, and he cracks his chin on the ground.

He curses and curls into the foetal position, hands clutching it tight. Dammit, pain is apparently the one thing he can rely on right now. There’s a big surprise.

Focus Kurosaki. If it hurts, bite down and use the adrenaline to get the job done. You’ve done it before, you can do it again.

It takes a ludicrous amount of effort, but he struggles to his feet and stumbles to the wooden slats. They’re locked, but he’s still tall enough to tilt the lock if he stands on his tiptoes. Once they’re pushed open, he’s hoisting himself over the windowsill, and crashes to the ground. He doesn’t have time to catch his bearings – once he’s out, he’s half running, half crawling towards the exit. By this point he knows the medical district like the back of his hand.

Or…he thought he did. Some of these buildings aren’t where he remembered, and he collapses when he turns the final corner and sees a wall where there should be an exit. Before he can even process that, an alarm starts blaring from the hospital, and Shinigami start emerging from buildings.

Ichigo throws himself down a street and through the first open door he can find. It ends up being some kind of kitchen area, thankfully empty, and he slides down the wall in exhaustion. This body is pathetically weak, and it’s becoming clear the ‘Shinigami’ will find him sooner rather than later. And since he still doesn’t understand if this is all a dream or a fantasy pasted onto reality, he needs to figure out a plan fast.

Okay, if this is an illusion of Aizen’s, there’s no way to break it. He might still be awake, which would explain why his memory of the division doesn’t match where he’s walking, and the fight with Aizen had put his body through the ringer, which could explain why his body just will not work, but it could also just be lucid dreaming – if Aizen had the power to overlap an entire world with his bankai, the soul society would have lost the war before it ever started. Every Shinigami in the Soul Society would have been his puppet – it makes far more sense that he’s unconscious and dreaming this whole thing while Aizen tries to get away.

He glances over at the kitchen drawers.

And if this is just a bankai-induced dream, maybe he can break it like one.

Outside, voices are starting to call out, and he crawls over, not wasting the time trying to stand. The second drawer reveals exactly what he’s looking for, knives sharp enough to pierce bone. He grabs the lightest one – the only handle that doesn’t have his hand shaking from the weight, and pulls back the sleeve of the medical outfit.

He makes to cut…but his hand hesitates at the sight of the skinny, pale flesh.

‘It’s not real’ Ichigo hisses to himself. ‘It’s just a dream. It can’t be real.’

Still, he has to close his eyes and look away before he can slice through the flesh. At first it doesn’t hurt, and he wonders if he missed the arm entirely – and then his limb bursts in vicious, unimaginable pain.

His eyes snap back to the limb, widening at the sheer amount of blood that’s managed to pool out in the handful of seconds. There’s a disconnect at the sight – he still refuses to believe that arm is connected to him, and the sight of a child’s arm drenched in blood is ripping his head apart.

Already he feels faint, and doubt starts to creep in. Rationally he knows it’s his bodies way of trying to stay alive, but that voice gets quieter with every second that passes.

Shouldn’t this be enough? Shouldn’t he wake up by now? Does he have to go unconscious from blood loss first?

Adrenaline somehow makes it through, mixing with the desperate instincts screaming NO to that last question, and he gasps as he reiatsu pushes through, bursting out and smashing into the opposite wall, completely out of control. It’s pushing out, wild and reckless and refusing to be pulled back no matter what Ichigo tries, not that he has much will left at this point.

On the plus side, at least that means this must be a dream. This wouldn’t be possible in the real world after the final Getsuga Tenshou, and there would be no point in adding it to the illusion, right?

He’s not got much time to ponder that though. This burst of reiatsu would be attracting every Shinigami in the nearby radius, even if it’s starting to die down as Ichigo’s vision fades. When he wakes up again, it should be broken.

It should be-

His eyes are starting to close, so he hears more than sees the door burst open. All he can make out is a figure in black.

“ICHIGO!”

The figure lunges for him, and Ichigo just manages to register the man’s arms around him before everything goes dark.

---

When he wakes up, it’s to the medical ward again, and his arm really hurts.

He already knows what he’ll see, but he still lifts it out into view, face falling as he takes in the child’s limb wrapped in bandages.

It didn’t work.

“You should consider yourself lucky. Another minute and even Unohana would have struggled to save you.”

Ichigo snaps his head in the direction of the voice.

“Kisuke?”

The man smiled, tilting his hat both in greeting, and clearly to hide the fact that the expression didn’t reach his eyes. Ichigo frowns as he takes in scientist’s appearance - he was still wearing his signature hat, but his usual outfit was missing, replaced with a Shinigami uniform, a captain’s coat slung over it.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you recognised me, given the circumstances” he says. “I was asked to come explain things to you, being one of the few that fully understands the situation.”

“Kisuke,” Ichigo repeats. “What happened? How long have I been unconscious?”

This is taking a very strange turn. First his mother, now…pre-Vizard Kisuke? What is this?

The…Captain? walked towards his bed, taking a seat next to him, features schooling into something far more serious.

“Ichigo, I’m afraid I have something quite serious to tell you” he said. “What is the last thing you remember?”

He frowned. “I’d just beaten Aizen” he replies. “Then you showed up, there was kido, I was kind of out of it to be honest. Why?”

Kisuke gave him a sad smile that frankly did nothing for his nerves. He didn’t think he’d ever seen the shopkeeper look like this.

“Ichigo, you’re not going to like what I’m about to say, but I assure you, it’s the truth” he said. “Eight years ago, you were abducted from outside your home by Aizen Sousuke. He wanted a spiritually powerful soul to try a new experimental process, and chose you – both due to convenience, and to strike a blow against your family. You were induced into a type of medical coma – in which you lived in an illusionary world that would force your mind to evolve far beyond its natural abilities. From the records I’ve read, you would have believed you were human, residing in the living world.”

“I am human” Ichigo snapped. “I admit it’s a little bit…muddled, but I’m still human.”

Kisuke holds his hands up. “No, you’re a soul, as is everyone in your family. Your mother, admittedly was human, and came here when she died, but you have never actually been there. The world you lived in was fake.”

The Shinigami sighed. “Evidently, it was very effective. Your memories were completely wiped, and you’ve clearly accepted the illusion as reality, judging from how high your reiatsu levels grew while unconscious. We only discovered you and Aizen’s treachery two years ago, and it took years to manufacture an antidote to bring you out. Everything we did seemed to make things worse at first – your reiatsu kept spiking. I was starting to think getting you out without mental damage was impossible, but-“

He spread his hands. “Apparently I underestimated you. We monitored your brainwaves to predict the weakest moment in the illusion, administered the antidote, and you did the rest. When you’ve sufficiently recovered, I’d love to talk to you about your experience.”

Ichigo is pretty sure his mouth is wide open. He literally cannot bring himself to care.

“…That is the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard” he growls. “And I’ve heard a lot of it! Why the hell would I believe that?”

“You don’t have to believe it, but consider the facts” Kisuke argues. “You are not currently human, or possessing the body you remember. Yet, despite your impressive attempt to break the illusion you – understandably – believe yourself to be under, it failed completely. Unless you can explain that, you do have to admit the evidence does suggest that what I’m saying is true.”

Ichigo opened his mouth to argue, only to snap it shut when he couldn’t think of a reply.

No illusion could be so strong that it could alter memories, and he doesn’t remember Aizen going for his sword. And it’s hard to believe an illusion would still stay stable with the victim that close to death – if it was a dream, he should have woken up, if he was wandering around, Soul Society would be keeping him tied down and unconscious until they figured out how to break it.

But if it wasn’t…

He choked back a gasp, heart beating frantically as he tried to wrap his head around the concept.

A hand hesitantly touched his shoulder, and he jerked up to see Kisuke staring at him, clearly reluctant to be so close.

“Aizen has since been incarcerated” he explains. “Neither he, nor his experiments can touch you again. It has had an extreme effect on your reiatsu, but you’ll learn how to control that in time. I am only sorry we were unable to catch Aizen Sousuke earlier. I had my suspicions, but never acted upon them. Many of my colleagues felt the same – if we’d spoken up sooner, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened.”

Ichigo looks away.

“I still don’t believe you” he says. Kisuke just shrugs.

“I probably wouldn’t believe me either” he says. “But you’ll be under close observation after that last stunt, at least until you get a medical all clear. It’ll take a while to flush all the toxins from your system, but once they do, your real memories should start to return. I’m sure that will do more than any argument I can offer.”

---

Half an hour later, Ichigo finds himself picking at the stray threads on the blanket, doing everything possible not to look at the figure in the doorway. Once Kisuke had left, he’d been at the mercy of Unohana, who had not taken to his attempted escape (literally and metaphorically) well. But given his latest visitor, he sorely wished she’d come back for a round two.

“Ichigo?”

He swallows, shoulders tensing as his mother walks back into the room, far more hesitant than she had the previous time. She pauses by the bed, shifting on her feet for a few moments before choosing to sit on a nearby chair. A hand reaches over, only to stop when Ichigo freezes. When he doesn’t speak up, she finishes the distance, taking his tiny hand in hers.

“There was a time I was afraid I’d never get to do this again” Masaki whispers, joy obvious in her face. Ichigo braces himself, and turns to face her.

It’s still like being hit by a truck. Her face, her smile – it hasn’t changed at all.

“I’m sorry, it just doesn’t feel real” Ichigo admits, hating that he has to say it, even to a possibly fictional version of his mother. “You’re dead. I saw you die. And I never saw the Soul Society until I was 16.”

“You turned 16 almost 20 years ago” His mother replied, a sad smile emerging from her face. “Unohana and Kisuke say your memories should start coming back once the chemicals are fully flushed from your system. Once we get you home, maybe things will start feeling familiar. Your sisters will be coming tomorrow, they wanted to come today but we thought we should take it slow after you…reacted badly.”

Ichigo nods, grateful for the idea. He wouldn’t want his little sisters to see him like this, even if they weren’t real.

“However,” his mother began. “Your father has been waiting outside. Do you think you’re up for seeing him?”

Ichigo winced, images of Isshin blasting into the room and trying to punch him into the wall. He really didn’t think he was up facing that.

His mother seemed to notice his discomfort, and squeezed his shoulder.

“I promise he won’t go overboard” she insists. “He just wants to see you. He’s the one that found you after…”

Ichigo winces. Yeah, that wouldn’t have gone over well. Looks like Isshin is still a Shinigami in this world too.

He sighs, and gives his mother a smile.

“Okay” he says. “I guess I can handle Goat-Face for a few minutes.”

His mother blinked in confusion. “…Goat Face?”

“Wow, that’s a flattering nickname.”

They both looked up, and Ichigo frowned as he took in the man waiting in the doorframe, waving one hand slowly.

He look frighteningly like him, only slightly taller and with pitch black hair. He had a hopeful smile on his face, and from the grip he had on the frame, was holding himself back from leaping over to Ichigo. The appearance shook a memory from his mind, of Rukia telling him about the former Vice-Captain of the Thirteenth.

“Are you…Shiba Kaien?”

The man paled, smile freezing on his face. He swallowed heavily, before walking into the room, sitting next to Masaki. Both of them looked miserable as Ichigo drew back, staring at him in confusion.

“You…aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Kaien’s hands clenched.

“Is that what happened to me in your dream?” he asked, and Ichigo nods.

“Yeah, by a hollow. Happened decades before I was born.”

That seemed to confuse them even more.

“Decades before…Ichigo, don’t you know who this is?”

Ichigo frowned at his mother. “Shiba Kaien?” he repeated.

“To you” Masaki specified. “What is he to you?”

“…My uncle?” Ichigo offered.

Kaien looked as if Ichigo had just stabbed him in the stomach, hands clenching in the sheets. To Ichigo’s astonishment, Masaki grabbed one of them, tugging it loose and pulling it towards Ichigo. Her other hand clasped Ichigo’s and brought it to the centre, creating a three-way hand hold.

“Sweetie…” she said. “This is your father.”

Ichigo’s eyes widened.

“WHAT?”

#bleach fanfiction #bleach fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #in which I use the 'and it was all a dream' trope #to come up with a better plot than the later bleach arcs #ichigo kurosaki

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dickie-gayson · 7 years

Text

Me and the Devil

CHAPTER 3: IF I HAD A HEART

Summary: As Robin, Jason wanted his predecessor's approval, even if he acted like he didn't. Even before The Boy Wonder came to be, Jason had been in awe of the Flying Dick Grayson. He worked to live up to that legacy, to make him proud. Now, he wished he never laid eyes on those goddamn colors or tried to take those tires.

He wished they murdered Dick Grayson because this was just inhumane. Sure, Jason wanted to slit his fucking throat, but this? This was cruel beyond words. It was sick and what was left was an abomination to make the heavens weep.

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

Genre: Horror

Length: 4k+

Other: Arkham Knight!Jason, Talon!Dick. UGhh this is The Worst Chapter, sorry.

Find It On: Ao3 Fanfiction

"Pain? I know pain. Its molecular level. It pulls at my atoms. It sings to me. I'm ruthless, I'm poison. I'm a man with no face. I'm fearless, I'm heartless. A ghost with no soul. Possessed of the devil to sanctify, to consecrate"

When Jason awoke, it was with the familiar feeling of fear coursing through him. He remembered waking like this day after day beneath Arkham Asylum. It was an ingrained reaction at this point. When he was imprisoned by the Joker, being awake meant being in pain. Ordinarily, he'd coax himself down from the edge of panic by reminding himself it was over. He'd look at his room for comfort; to remind himself he wasn't there. The tremors might ease. He might only vomit once. But such comfort wouldn't be found now. The place he was in wasn't familiar. It wasn't safe. Then, the memories of what happened hit him fast and hard.

He bolted up so quickly, he nearly tripped over the chair he had been placed on due to a rush of vertigo. His heart felt like it was trying to climb out of his throat from the swift pace it beat. That feeling of intense fear only increased when he realized he'd been disarmed. No guns, no knives, not even the ones he liked to keep hidden in his sleeves. The place he was in was clearly abandoned for quite some time. It was covered in layers of dust and falling apart every which way he looked. The room was small with one door and shuttered windows all around. Another thing he noticed was the heat. It was sweltering in the room, which was impressive given the relative lack of insulation and structural instability of the place. This must be the lair of that assassin. Well, this certainly made Jason's effort to find his den obsolete.

The fear and anxiety buzzed beneath his skin like an electrical current. He felt almost ill and just a bit dizzy. This was too similar to then. At least he hadn't been restrained. That wasn't something he felt he could handle on top of being kidnapped. In an attempt to keep his composure, he paced his breathing. That was harder to do when it felt like he was choking on the past. He needed to get out of here now. Jason was betting that the door was locked, but it was old. He could probably just crash right through it. Given that he didn't know where he was, he didn't know how high up he was or if there'd be anything to catch him, so throwing himself through the shuttered window was a decidedly bad idea. Still, he'd rather throw himself out a window and hit the ground than be someone's prisoner for one second longer.

Jason nearly missed the assassin in his inspection of the new scenery. He was sitting amidst a pile of blankets, looking comically close to a nesting bird. Just a few feet away was a portable space heater pointing straight at the killer. How he could tolerate all that heat, Jason didn't know. He mentally filed away the information for further study. It could point to a weakness; probably the cold. Right now, he was a little more concerned about the fact that this thing just kidnapped him and is doing nothing but staring. Ordinarily, Jason would find the sight of the assassin peeking over a pile of blankets somewhat amusing. Right now he didn't feel like laughing.

He went still once the lean figure rose from their makeshift nest. And, god, Carmine had been telling the truth. It was unmistakeably Dick Grayson's face staring at him. But it wasn't. It couldn't be. Dick wasn't this...this thing. What Jason was staring at was a horror, a monster. It had to be someone - something - trying to mimic the acrobat. Because the alternative, that this really was his 'brother', no matter how hated, was unfathomable. Jason couldn't even begin to think of what could do something like this to the man. A curse? His brain felt too full, too scrambled with torturous memories and new discoveries to really process what he was seeing.

The assassin took a step toward him and Jason stumbled back. He wanted to keep as much space between them as possible. That was hard to do when the room was small to begin with and cluttered with junk. He hit the wall and yet the killer kept coming. His earlier attempts to calm his breathing went down the drain as his pulse picked up pace. Jason clenched his fists, sorely wishing for a weapon, anything, to hold. His eyes darted around the room in search of an escape or something he could use to defend himself. Any time his gaze landed back on a face so familiar yet so foreign, his heart clenched. He had to look away.

Jason had plenty of questions and he needed answers, but they felt stuck in his throat. That inhuman face staring at him with no expression, radiating cold and something much, much darker, kept the words down. Sure, Jason had plenty of questions, but did he really want the answers? Could he handle what he was going to hear? There was no love in those unnatural eyes. No warmth or compassion, no rage, no joy, no life. Nothing. And this was supposed to be Dick Grayson? It couldn't be. It...it couldn't. It didn't make sense. The incongruity between the creature he was seeing and how he remembered Dick to be was startling to the point that Jason wasn't entirely certain he wasn't hallucinating the whole thing. It wouldn't be the first time he saw things that weren't real. Whether or not Jason could handle the answers didn't matter at this point, he needed to know.

"Who are you? What are you? Why am I here?"

There was no answer. Talon just slipped closer on quiet feet until there were mere inches between the two. Oh, how he wanted to back away from this atrocity, but he couldn't give the assassin that satisfaction. He stood his ground and forced himself to stare into those godless eyes. Jason was a breath away from screaming at him to just answer the damn questions and maybe decking him for this whole ordeal. He felt like he was wound too tight. One wrong move and he'd ignite like ill-handled dynamite. Before he could enact any of his urges, his captor finally spoke. Just as before, his voice was but a whisper. It made Jason wonder why he never spoke any louder, or if he even could.

"You know who. What does your helmet say I am?"

If Jason had to put a name to the slight shift in his tone, he'd say the assassin was almost amused. It didn't match the hollow expression and that created a disturbing sort of dissonance. What he asked was something Jason had noticed when he first saw Talon but didn't have time to investigate. His helmet wasn't reading the other man properly. Jason thought maybe it was a weird type of tech the assassin used to keep hidden or lure out those with his sort of sensors. After all, a dead body would be enough reason to inspect and no one would expect the body to move, let alone attack them. The thought that it wasn't tech only added to the horror of the situation. It couldn't be true.

"It says you're dead, which is definitely going to happen if you don't give me some real answers."

The anger was a front, a sort of shield he defaulted to when he felt powerless and scared. It's been his safety blanket for as long as he could remember. All the way back before The Bat swept him away to his cushy manor with too many empty rooms. When he was still scrounging the streets like a starved rat. When he'd do damn near anything to get by. Jason would say that frightened and desperate little boy died somewhere in the bowels of Arkham Asylum. It was easier than admitting he still saw him in the mirror daily.

The fire in his words flickered out in the face of the murderer. Slowly, Talon rose a hand toward Jason's chest and started tapping a beat over his heart. It was a quick tempo, tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap. It took a moment for Jason to realize the man was copying the rhythm of his pulse, calling out his fear without even speaking. He felt his heart skip a beat at the realization; tap...tap-tap. Jason felt sick. He tried to shove the other man away, to escape, something. The vice-like grip suddenly encasing his arms prevented him from doing any of those things.

"I didn't answer your other question, Jason."

Hearing that thing say his name was surreal. He hasn't heard anyone say his name since...since Arkham. Jason just shook his head as if that could retract his questions. He no longer wanted to hear the answers. All he wanted was to get out of here and as far away from this beast as possible. He didn't want to see that grotesque caricature of his 'brother' any longer or hear that familiar voice lacking its warmth. It was too much for Jason to deal with. For years he's been preparing to take on his old family, but this? This isn't right. It's not part of his plan. He didn't know how to handle it. Killing Goldie was one thing, but this wasn't him. The implications that something out there truly could have corrupted the incorruptible and unfaltering Nightwing was almost frightening. He was literally pulled out of his frantic thoughts by a clawed gauntlet gripping the chin of his helmet and forcing him to look at his captor. Jason squeezed his eyes shut.

"I brought you here, little brother, because..'

Even without seeing, Jason could feel the shorter man draw closer until they nearly touched. He radiated cold, even in the unbearable heat of the room. There was nothing but silence. After another few seconds of unnerving quiet, Jason cracked open his eyes. What he saw almost made him want to crawl back to that room in Arkham. Those golden eyes were staring directly into his with a savage sort of hunger. The way he was looking at Jason made it seem like he wanted to tear Jason apart or lock him in a cage like a pet. That grotesque face was still empty of emotion, as if he could no longer form any expression. It made Jason's skin crawl. Then, he spoke in those quiet, almost ravenous tones.

'..you are mine."

Something inside Jason felt like it shattered at the sentence. The rapacious way the words hung in the air left him ready to lose any semblance of composure he had. He didn't even think as he attacked. All that was repeating in his head were those words and memories, so many memories, of another person who held him down and hurt him. There was a sickening crack as he drove an armored boot into the assassin's knee. Jason didn't look back as the injury started healing. He ran straight for the closest window.

Before he could even touch the frame, he was sent crashing to the ground. The floor creaked ominously at the force and dust flew around the room from the frenzied struggle. Had this been a fair fight, it would be close, with blow matching blow and blood pouring from both. But it was not fair. Dick had always been hard to hit. He was faster than Jason, faster than Bruce; 'by a whisker' Selina had once said. Now he moved like he was a wraith; silent and untouchable.

Miss after miss after miss. It made Jason feel all the more helpless and infuriated. Oddly enough, Dick wasn't bothering to really fight back. Jason knew he could, felt that unnatural strength in the way Talon restrained him. Instead, he just slipped around the strikes and stared. It was as unnerving as it was infuriating. Finally, he managed to land a hit on Dick's chest, sending him flying backward. Jason followed through with another hit as he yelled at the man.

"No, I'm not! I don't belong to you, or Bruce, or that fucking clown or ANYONE!"

He made no effort to moderate his voice. Jason was far past that point. What Dick said, it tore open the festering scars inside of him and drove him into a frenzy. Nobody owned him anymore. He'd rot six feet underground before he ever let that happen again, even if he had to put himself in that grave. There were things out there much worse than death. Jason Todd had come to know that harsh truth intimately.

For all of Jason's hate, his fear, Talon remained stone-faced. Jason could tell it wasn't a ruse. Dick, if this really was Dick, truly didn't care for the pain and torment raging inside the younger man and that hurt. It also made the decision to kill the bastard that much easier. Figuring out how to take him down was a whole other endeavor. He healed rapidly, as was obvious by the now uninjured leg. Not to mention his enhanced everything. But Jason's fought tougher enemies, right? There was no confidence behind that thought. Dick beat some of the best while he had been a regular human with restrictions on force and a code of ethics to follow. This was a whole new ball game and it felt rigged.

Every effort to overtake his opponent was parried with ease. The way Dick cocked his head made it seem as if he found this whole thing amusing. Quick as lightning, Dick struck his throat. It wasn't hard enough to do any real damage, but just hard enough to hurt like a bitch and make breathing difficult. Jason started gasping as he clutched his throat. He bent over in an effort to catch his breath. As he did that, Talon walked around him slowly and looked him over. It almost seemed as if he were appraising the man. Then, he hit the back of Jason's knees, causing him to crumble to the ground.

Jason fought to get back to his feet as he gasped for air. Talon was having none of that. Almost gingerly, he used a foot to turn his 'brother' over. Then, he rested that foot on the armored chest, making breathing just that much more difficult. With a casual air, Dick crouched down and hovered over Jason. That cold, empty look still inhabited his ghastly features as he stared at the mask Jason created. One clawed finger scratched down the surface, then found the hidden latches one by one. How he knew exactly where they were, Jason wasn't certain but it was terrifying. How closely had Talon been watching him?

In an effort to get away from this nightmare, Jason grabbed for one of the many knives strapped to Talon's chest. His attempt was thwarted when the assassin grabbed his wrist in an unforgiving grip and slammed it back to the ground. The angle his arm was twisted in made Jason writhe in anguish despite his attempts to maintain an unaffected demeanor. He choked back the groan filling his lungs. This damned assassin humiliated him enough, he would not get the satisfaction of hearing Jason's pained cries. Talon ripped the unclasped helmet from his head with little care and leaned closer, as if even this distance was too great. When he spoke, there was an almost sadistic edge to his soft words.

"If you don't belong to the Joker anymore, then why is he still alive?"

The downed man felt like he was choking for an entirely different reason. Just the thought of that painted freak made anxiety and fear flood his veins. He shut his eyes, feeling too much like a child trying to hide from the boogeyman. Talon continued on.

"If you don't belong to him, then why do you cry at night?"

Despite the fact that he was whispering, his words screamed in Jason's head. He struggled beneath the unmoving man, as if he could run from what Talon was saying. The assassin grabbed his tender throat and forced Jason to look into his merciless eyes.

"You're still his toy, Jason."

"No, no.."

"You ran from the asylum,'

"No, shut up, shut up-"

'but he's still your master."

"NO! SHUT UP, YOU'RE WRONG!"

Jason thrashed against his hold in an attempt to escape the words dragging him down. They crawled beneath his skin, dragging across his nerves like bits of broken glass. It hurt.

"Y-You're...you're wrong. I'm not... I'm free. Not his. Not his."

His words were ragged and gasping. Tears burned his eyes as he fought to free himself. He was always fighting for his freedom, it seemed. He wasn't the clown's, he wasn't. Talon just shook his head slowly, clearly not believing his words.

"You're not free of him. But you can be, once you kill him. So, why haven't you?"

There were too many answers to that. He was afraid. Fuck, he was still so afraid of the Joker. He wanted proper vengeance, to make it as painful as possible. Wanted to make him kill that sick freak. No matter how he struggled against the man pinning him, Jason couldn't escape. It was clear Talon wasn't moving until he got his answer. Jason licked his lips as he thought of what to say. His whole body shook from the adrenaline and emotional overdose.

"I'm not telling you. I don't know you."

That actually seemed to surprise Talon a little, if the slight pullback was anything to go by. What? Did that thing think Jason was just going to believe him because he knew Jason's name and wore Dick's face? That monster was a coldblooded murderer. He'd need more evidence than that to even entertain the idea. Like hell he'd spill what he's been working years onto the asshole holding him hostage. That's happened to him once already and that was one time too many.

Talon let out a huff of air as he finally backed off of Jason. In an odd show of civility, he offered a hand to help his brother up. Still feeling rather perturbed by his earlier words and actions, Jason ignored the hand and got up on his own. His legs felt weak and shaky beneath him, but he did his damnedest to hide it. He didn't want to show any more weakness in front of his captor than he already has. Talon lowered the proffered gauntlet and spoke again.

"You want a DNA sample? Or would you rather see what happened to me?"

There was a tone in his voice, a venom that told he was not entirely pleased with Jason's distrust. That distaste was definitely mutual. This time Jason was the one surprised. He figured there'd be some more attempts to convince him, maybe a few memories recalled. But to see what happened? If it was recorded, he'd have to analyze it to see if it was the real deal or a fake out.

"What, like a video?"

Talon turned his back to Jason, a decidedly bold move. Jason might have taken the opportunity to attack, but he had a feeling this was an unspoken test. The lax, open posture was almost begging to be assaulted. The slight curl of the gauntlets and bend of the knees told a different story. Should he make a move Talon didn't like, the killer was more than ready to strike back. No...not a test, a trap. Like hell Jason would willingly walk himself into it. Once was more than enough, in his opinion. The assassin grabbed something out of Jason's view and came back. His aloofness was apparent in the almost disinterested pace he took. He presented a small flash drive for the younger man to see.

"Exactly like a video. It's only fair. After all, I watched what happened to you."

Jason felt momentarily numb. Then, a whole range of emotions flooded him, all negative in nature. The strongest sensation was the feeling of utter shame. If he saw what happened to Jason, then he saw how Jason broke. How he begged and obeyed like a dog. Following hand-in-hand with shame was rage and horror. He could barely contain his choler.

"You what?!"

He was a hairsbreadth away from attacking the black-clad man once more, damn the odds. He had no right to watch that video. No goddamn right! Instead of reacting to his fury, his hurt, Talon just gave that amused little head tilt again.

"Didn't you know? Bruce has it all saved in the Cave."

The flash drive danced across his fingers as Talon toyed with it. Jason would have to address the fact that he somehow got into the Cave's computers another time. What was drawing his attention the most was the fact that Bruce had it all saved. Bruce saw what that...that monster did to him and still didn't save him. Jason hasn't even enacted his plan and yet he suddenly felt like he still failed somehow.

He paced across the floor as the thoughts overwhelmed him. The room suddenly felt much smaller than before. Still, Talon watched with that cool, clinical look. Jason suddenly rounded on him and held out his hand. The impatience was clear in not only his posture but by the tone of his voice.

"Give me the flash drive."

The killer looked slowly from the awaiting hand back to Jason's face. The flash drive remained in Talon's grasp. Another shake of his head had Jason ready to burst. If he had to cut off that freak's hand to get it, so be it. He needed to see what was on that flash drive. If his time in Arkham was on there...

"That's not the deal, Jason. Tell me your plan."

The fact that Talon had already scoured his various hideouts and dens to learn the plan wasn't mentioned by the stalker. He wanted to hear Jason say it. There was so much wrong with his idea and Talon would make him see it one way or another. Jason let out an agitated sound and resumed his pacing.

"I'm gonna make him do it. Make him kill the Joker. He won't have a choice. Then, I'm going to bring Gotham to its goddamn knees."

Talon shook his head in disagreement. They both knew Bruce well enough to know no one could force him to do anything. He's stubborn enough, and intelligent enough, that he always seemed to find a way around the problem.

"He won't do it."

There was such certainty in his voice, one could almost assume he'd seen the future. That was a deep-seated fear of Jason's; that Bruce would turn his back on him again. But, he wouldn't choose that subhuman piece of garbage over his son. He couldn't.

"He will."

A noise of disgust left Talon's throat at that. It was clear he had a very different perspective on their adoptive father's priorities. When he spoke, there was a disparaging tone to his voice, making Jason feel almost foolish in his planning.

"And why's that? Because you ask nicely? Because you're his son? You were in Arkham. I was in the sewers. And yet, the World's Greatest Detective still couldn't find us? In Gotham? He doesn't care, Little Wing. He replaced you and me. He'll never care enough. Not more than he cares for his code."

Jason's pacing stopped dead as the words circulated his brain. They seemed to weigh each limb down like an anchor. That's what the dark voice in his mind told him every time he thought about the plan. Bruce didn't care. Bruce replaced him. Bruce would never choose him. Talon finally stopped twirling the small memory stick and moved closer to the overwhelmed man. His voice was soft as ever, but there was a sharp, sharp edge to it.

"You need to kill the one who hurt you. You need to kill the Joker. Then, we can take Bruce."

At the feeling of something being pressed into his hand, Jason glanced down. Talon gave him the flash drive without issue. He felt totally overloaded at this point; like every last cell in his body had been scrubbed raw and doused with acid. He looked back at the killer slowly, weighted by all that had happened today. So many questions rested on his tongue, but he couldn't seem to get them all out.

"What about that replacement?"

When he spoke, it was with such intense contempt, one could almost see the venom dripping from his lips. Talon gave him a harsh look in return.

"You'll leave Tim alone."

Tim. Talon referred to him by name. It made that hate in Jason burn all the hotter. How Dick could just...let him go was beyond Jason. That brat replaced him, them.

"What? No! He's gonna pay just like them! He-'

Jason's words were cut off as Talon rushed him. A forearm was pressed to his throat, strangling Jason. He fought against the hold once more. The blood-curdling crack of Talon's ribs snapping was the only sign Jason was causing any damage at all. Talon just leaned forward with that insane, possessive look in his eyes.

"You. Will. Leave. Tim. Alone."

His voice was softer than before but so much more lethal. Jason gasped for air as he tried to speak.

"W-why? He re..placed us."

In response, he got a curious little look. Then, Talon eased up off of him. Even still, he crowded the younger man's space. It made Jason feel far too much like a mouse in front of a cat for his liking.

"You replaced me. Should I make you pay?"

The definitive answer was 'no', but Jason didn't voice that. The indignation burned through him. This was different! Rather than say anything, Jason stood in almost petulant silence. He made sure to put that flash drive in one of his pockets before he accidentally crushed it in his anger. As Talon spoke, there was a definite unhinged edge to his voice. It made an uneasy feeling bolt through the haze of rage burning through Jason.

"Robin is mine. Tim is Robin. Tim is mine."

With each word, Talon tapped his chest. Jason glanced at the offending finger and had to double take at what exactly he'd been tapping. There was a crude 'R' carved into his chest plate, no doubt courtesy of Talon. That was the point he was making. Even when those pernicious words returned, Jason couldn't tear his eyes away from that symbol. His blood ran cold.

"You were Robin."

He didn't need to continue to make his statement clear. The words he denied before rang through his head. 'you are mine.' As Robin, Jason wanted his predecessor's approval, even if he acted like he didn't. Even before The Boy Wonder came to be, Jason had been in awe of Dick. He got to watch him once upon a time on the trapeze, when the Graysons still flew, and it was one of the most amazing things he'd ever witnessed. Then, when he learned that not only did he get to become Robin, but the previous one was that acrobat? Jason was star-struck. He worked to live up to that legacy, to make him proud. Now, he wished he never laid eyes on those goddamn colors or tried to take those tires. This was a soul-deep pain he couldn't ignore.

"I'm not yours."

His voice was a whisper, as if talking to himself, trying to convince himself his words were true. He couldn't bring himself to speak any louder. That fury that was fueling him was dying out under the crushing weight of sadness. God, he had a whole plan to kill his idol but he was too late. Someone beat him to it, did even worse than he planned, and that left a strange curdling in his gut. He wished they murdered Dick Grayson because this was just inhumane. Sure, Jason wanted to slit his fucking throat, but this? This was cruel beyond words. It was sick and what was left was an abomination to make the heavens weep.

Gently, almost affectionately, Talon tilted Jason's head up to meet his gaze. The malice in those vibrant eyes didn't match the tenderness behind the action.

"By my name you lived, Little Wing."

He prodded the scrawled 'R' again, as if to accentuate his point.

"By my name, you'll die. But not before I say so."

A chill wracked his body at the earnestness of the words. Not for the first time did Jason contemplate on just putting a bullet through his own skull. It would save him the pain his future promised. He had the distinct feeling he wouldn't get the chance to even raise the gun before Dick intervened. Jason must have been emoting more than he realized because Talon let out an odd sound and pat his cheek in what was supposed to be a comforting move. The claws cut into his flesh, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Neither reacted to that.

"Don't worry, I don't want you to die yet. So, I'm going to help you."

Jason didn't even bother to respond. There was no point. He had no say, he could tell. It was unintentional, but he was reverting back to that subservient mindset of a captive. Being still, being quiet, being submissive. When he goes over this event later, he'll hate Talon. He'll hate himself even more. But for now, he slipped into that role like a well-worn glove. Only when those cold gloves traced the 'J' on his cheek did Jason look at Talon. There was never a look so close to the embodiment of Hell than the one in those ocher eyes.

"He'll pay. They both will. Then, we can take Gotham."

#Me and the Devil Verse #My Writing #Talon!Dick #Arkham Knight #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #i hate this fuckin chapter #its so bad forgive me

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