#think he might pull for not even finishing his education though (legend) and go straight into a career if he can though

[emotionalsupportoldlace]

Four Times Gert and Chase Shared A Bed and the One Time They Didn’t

Title: Four Times Gert and Chase Shared A Bed and the One Time They Didn’t By: emotionalsupportoldlace aka me, Mindy Pairing: Gert Yorkes/Chase Stein (obv) Description: Title says it all! Warning: This fic contains heavy mentions of abuse.  Author’s note: There is a lot of cheesiness in this fic, because I’m the biggest sap. Also, below are the songs I listened to while writing this fic. I managed to fit in lyrics from each song, so here’s some context.

one two three four five 

This fic is dedicated to the very special and incredible Emma @shesbeautifulandsheglows, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEGEND!!! I hope you like this birthday gift. PS everyone go wish her a happy birthday plz she’s the greatest 💗💖💝💘💞💟💕

One.

Man, oh, man, you're my best friend / I scream it to the nothingness / There ain't nothing that I need

Gert hated sleepovers. When everyone came to stay at her house, it was fine. She welcomed it. She got to spend time with her friends AND sleep in her bed. It was the best! But when it was someone else’s turn to host, she dreaded the concept of sleepovers. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy seeing her friends, or the food and fun that sleepovers bring, but the idea of not sleeping in her own bed made her stomach feel weird. Most nights at her house, she ended up sleeping in bed with her mom and dad. She knew could never back out on attending one of the said sleepovers because they had become tradition and she didn’t want to feel left out. So she pushed through her fear, enjoyed herself as much as she could, and tried her best not to cry herself to sleep while in her sleeping bag. No one was ever to find out Gert was afraid of the dark and sleepovers, because she’s 8 years old! 8 year olds aren’t scared of sleeping alone! Especially GERT YORKES! If anyone ever found out about her deep, dark secret, she wouldn’t be able to take it! She would just die. Once a month they took turn hosting the sleepovers, and tonight was Chase’s turn. His dad was out of town on a trip for work, so it would just be Janet with the kids that night. It was always better when Victor wasn’t around, mostly because Chase was a lot more at ease. Gert wasn’t sure why, but it seemed like Chase was always on high alert when Victor was around. He didn’t smile as much, and that made her sad. In order to assure that tonight went off without a hitch, she packed her favorite stuffed dinosaur and her lucky pajamas into her backpack. Tonight would be okay, she kept telling herself, because she’d be at Chase’s house. The Stein residence, although stifled with tension, felt like home to her. Things were always better with Chase by her side. Out of the seven friends, her and Chase were the closest. She considered him to be her best friend. They’d been inseparable ever since they met, when their parents brought them all together for the first time. It was always easy around Chase; she was never nervous or uncomfortable around him. He made her laugh, and always made sure she was okay. If anyone was mean to her, Chase would come to her defense. In kindergarten Chase made his parents go to the school to get a bully, who regularly targeted Gert, switched out of their class. He got detention in 2nd grade for punching a boy who was making fun of her shoes on the playground. Just this year he broke his arm in gym class when he prevented Gert from falling. Sometimes she thinks Chase gets more upset about things relating to her than she does herself. Chase was just a friend, though. He didn’t give her intense butterflies. She didn’t blush whenever he was around. His hugs didn’t make her feel weak in the knees. His laugh didn’t make her feel a thing. She didn’t think about him every night before falling asleep. Those “I <3 Chase” doodles in her diary were a joke. She definitely didn’t have a crush on a Chase. Boys? Gross. Crushes? Double gross. The idea of kissing Chase? UGH! That night, after all the games of Candyland, the many slices of pizza, and some pool time, the kids were all cozied up on the floor of Chase’s living room, watching some animated movie Gert didn’t care for. She was too busy worrying about falling asleep. Gert spent most of her time worrying amour the littlest things, and it never seemed to get easier. The older she got the worse the worrying became. She hated that. As she glanced around at her friends, she noticed most of them were already asleep. Swimming did tend to tire you out, and they had played together long at all. So why wasn’t she tired at all? Why couldn’t she ever seem to turn her brain off? Her train of thought was cut off by the sound of footsteps. Janet was coming in. Everyone was asleep, so she pretended to be too, to avoid the awkwardness that might ensue. She heard the click of the TV remote, and the room became eerily silent, give or take a few snores. Gert’s surroundings became significantly darker, other than the light from the moon peering in through the curtain. She shriveled up in her sleeping bag and held onto her dinosaur right. Gert laid still in her sleeping bag, turning every once and a while to look at the clock nearby. She couldn’t see if very clearly,  if she knew it was past midnight. It was a curse she hadn’t fallen asleep yet. She shut her eyes tight hoping a miracle might happen and she’d finally fall asleep. Mindless thoughts scurried around her brain and the minutes of restlessness turned into another hour. Gert could feel the lump in her throat growing. She tried her hardest not to cry, hiding her face in her pillow. Out of nowhere, she felt a tap on her shoulder. At first she thought she might be dreaming. Maybe she had been asleep all along? Nope. “Gert?” whispered Chase, who has been asleep right next to her. She reached for her glasses, putting them on so she could see him better. “Yeah?” “Why are you awake?” he responded as quietly as possible. She sighed and avoided his eyes. “I can't sleep. I’m fine, though.” Chase chuckled and put his hand in her shoulder, which sent waves through her body. “I wasn’t asleep either. I hate sleepovers.” Gert gasped, a little too loudly, by the look on Chase’s face. “You do?” Chase nodded and leaned closer to Gert’s face, making her hands sweat. He was all up in her personal space, and she did not care. Maybe she did like Chase, but she’d worry about that later. “I’m scared of the dark. It’s why I have glow in the dark stars in my ceiling. My dad won’t let me sleep in their bed with them on nights when I get super scared, so I had my mom put them up so I wouldn’t be afraid anymore.” He smiled at Gert. Gert felt relieved. Of COURSE Chase was scared of the dark. That was just another thing to add onto the list of things they had in common. “Me too,” Gert replied as Chase climbed out of his sleeping bag. She brought a finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet and not wake up the others. He extended a hand, and she hesitantly interlocked their fingers, holding onto her dinosaur with her other hand. She hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell how sweaty her hand was. He whisked her off towards the stairs, tiptoeing down the hall towards his bedroom. Chase opened the door and led Gert to his bed. Gert felt like she was about to explode. As children, her and achase napped together plenty of times. But now they were older, and maybe Gert had a crush on Chase, which complicated things. He patted the spot next to where he was already laying. Nervous as hell, Gert climbed into bed next to him. She laid quite a difference from him, not wanting to make it weird. “Come on Gert. I don’t bite,” Chase said as he moved closer to her. Their hands were touching now, and Gert nervously laughed as she stared at the glow in the dark stairs that filled the room with just enough light. She turned towards Chase and smiled, noticing he had already been looking at her. There she lay, next to her best friend, the boy she probably liked. It was just the two of them. If this was a dream, she hoped she never woke up. As Gert’s she’s began to close, sleep slowly creeping up on her, she felt Chase ease his hand onto hers. He laced their fingers together, and Gert tried her hardest not to make a note of it. She played it cool, closing her eyes while a smile crept across her face. “Goodnight Chase.” “‘Night Gert.” Gert was content in her surroundings, while holding onto Chase’s hand, right on the cusp of sleep. One gina thought echoed through her mind before exhaustion overcame her... Yep, she definitely liked Chase Stein.

*******

Two.

I can’t get my head around it / I keep feeling smaller and smaller / I need my girl

It’s 11pm on a Wednesday night, and Gert feels like she might collapse from exhaustion soon if she doesn’t finish this English essay she’s been slaving on since she got home from school. She doesn’t know why she put off this assignment for so long, because that’s so not like her. Gert’s not the type to procrastinate, she has a GPA and persona to manage, duh. It’s not that she cares about what others think, she just likes being the best of the best. It makes her feel extra good about herself when she gets straight As on every assignment and project while the popular girls struggle to even get Cs. At least she has one up on them in one aspect.

Her back is aching and her head feels like it weighs 500 pounds. One break wouldn’t hurt, she tells herself. It’s her fault she’s being forced into pulling an all-nighter, so she might as well treat herself. Emerging from her computer chair for the first time in what seems to be an eternity, she gets up and walks into her bathroom, beginning her prep for a well deserved shower. Gert settles for nothing less than hot showers, and she can’t imagine why anyone else would. A scalding shower is what she wants more than anything right now, other than to sleep for the rest of the week. If only Gert didn’t care about perfect attendance or education in general. Sometimes she wishes she could be a slacker, but it just wouldn’t feel right.

All is going to plan until Gert is about to pull her shirt over her head when her phone rings.

“Of course,” she groans, picking up her phone from the sink counter.

It’s Chase.

She eagerly answers, wondering what on earth would cause Chase to call her this late. He’d never admit it to anyone, but she knows he’s an early sleeper. He has the sleeping pattern of a grandpa. It’s cute - one of the many cute things about him.

“Hello?”

“I’m outside. Can you come let me in?”

Chase’s voice is low, and sounds raspy; kind of like how it sounds when you have a cold or you just finished crying. She knew he wasn’t sick - she had just seen him before he left for lacrosse practice and she headed home. So, it must be the latter, which means something is seriously wrong. A pang of fear rushed through Gert’s body and before she could even realize that she was running down her stairs, she’s already at her front door.

She took a deep breath before opening the door, trying to mentally prepare herself for what might be on the other side. Gert has a bad feeling about this, and her intentions were usually right. What if someone died? Oh my god, what if he murdered someone? Her thoughts ran rapid, and she wished her constant negativity could take a break for a second.

Fuck.

You know how Gert is usually right? This time was no exception.

She opened the door to find Chase, in his lacrosse hoodie, arms crossed and face hidden. “Bad sign,” she tells herself. His demeanor is off, shoulders down and his body language was off, which was odd. With Gert, Chase is always an open book. They tell each other everything. 

At least that’s what she thought.

Gert doesn’t say a word to him; just leads him up the stairs into her room, quiet enough so no one hears. Dale and Stacey wouldn’t care anyway, because they love Chase and they’re chill like that, but since she doesn’t know the context of the situation at hand, she doesn’t want to get them involved (yet.)

When they enter her room, he sits on the bed and looks down at his hands, fidgeting with them like usual. It’s one of his nervous habits. Chase has been accustomed to never showing his emotions in the realest sense, except for when he’s around her. That’s how he was raised. She sits down next to him, and gently places her hand on his knee, letting him know that she’s there but still not forcing anything out of him. She thinks she hears a soft sniffle when Chase raises his head, removing his hood.

What was underneath is something Gert knows she’ll never forget.

There’s a bruise forming under his right eye, fresh blood still running from the gash on his cheek, peppered with tiny cuts all over his face. She swears she can still see glass in his hair.

She tries her hardest not to react, but she can tell she’s not doing a very good job. Gert can’t take her eyes off him or the blood drying on his lip, which is also swollen. The pain written all over his face, exhuming from his body, is too much for Gert to handle, but she’ll try for him, because she knows he’d do the same.

“My dad...he just lost it, you know? He fucking lost it, and I just so happened to be there, so I was the one he took it out on. Like usual. But it was worse this time Gert. Oh god - I didn’t mean to...to tell you like this. I know we’re always so honest with each other but I was so scared. Scared that if he knew I told...that he would hurt you too.”

Gert can barely breathe. Her suspicions all these years were right. He’d mention here and there how awful his dad was to him and Janet but she never thought...she didn’t know. Oh god, she felt so guilty.

“Chase,” Gert replied breathlessly. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

She reached for his hand and he quickly pushed it away, reaching his hands up to pull off his hoodie instead, revealing the carnage on the rest of his body. Gert couldn’t hold in her gasps any longer. She looked at Chase as the tears began to form in her eyes, lip quivering. Her hand found its way to his chest, soaked in blood. It was a wonder the cuts weren’t deeper, you would have thought by the sight of his white-now-red tank top. Her fingers trailed up and down, trying to take in what she was seeing. She so badly wanted this to be a bad dream, but she knew it was real and that she needed to take action.

“He threw a vase, and then knocked me over into the mirror in our dining room. Then he started throwing punches. I was defenseless. I came over here almost as soon as he gave up and left. My mom’s visiting family, she’s not home, I normally wouldn’t have come here but...I didn’t want to be alone. I was so scared to be in that house even with him gone.”

Gert could feel the pain in his voice. His entire body was still shaking.

"I'm always here. I'm not going anywhere," she replied. He still wouldn't look at her.

Gert placed her hand beneath his chin, lifting it up ever so delicately. "I mean that Chase," she started, "you never have to be alone."

This statement broke his cold exterior. Chase began to cry, sinking into Gert's arms. She ran her fingers through his hair, rubbing his back with her free hand. His body shook from the sobs leaving his body. Gert's sadness for him quickly turned to anger. God, she wanted to fucking MURDER Victor Stein. She'd only seen Chase cry one other time, and that was when he dropped his ice cream that one summer day when it was extremely hot and they were all over tired from playing at the beach all day. That was a tired cry, but this was a real cry. This was the rawest cry she'd ever witnessed. All she could do was be there for him. Finding the words to say became increasingly harder as his cries died down. Gert knew nothing could make this better, she just hoped her comfort could help the tiniest bit.

"Sorry," Chase muttered, pulling away from their embrace, hands still lingering atop of her own. He shook his head, wiping the excess tears from his face. "I'm a mess."

"You're not a mess. There's nothing to be sorry for," Gert said, "and you can cry all you need to. Or scream. Whatever else you need."

He looked at her, a smile finally emerging on his face. God, she thought she'd never see him smile again. "What would I do without you?"

She laughed. They had moments like this often. Borderline romantic. Flirtatious and playful. Gert never knew what they meant, if they had any meaning at all. They had this unspoken thing between the two of them that they never touched on. It was pretty apparent to everyone else that the two had something there, but they never did anything about it. Who knows if they ever would.

Gert took his hand and lead him into the bathroom to clean his cuts. "Nurse Gert to the rescue!" she said, and Chase burst into laughter, which made her heart soar. She really, really loved his laugh, and how it brought his dimples out to play. His dimples were her weakness. He removed his bloodied tank top and threw it in the garbage, and now Gert was alone, in her bathroom, with a shirtless Chase. Right now was not the appropriate time to freak out over this, but she felt her heart speed up and she desperately hoped he wouldn't notice the subtle change in her demeanour. After a few tiny screams (that Chase would never admit to), the dried blood on his body was gone and some of the wounds were covered with bandaids (they were Marvel band aids, which Chase didn't atest to, making sure Captain America was on all of them) but the evidence of the night's tragic events were still there, his black eye still forming. She hated seeing him like this, so vulnerable.

They both left the bathroom, walking back to her bed, and Chase picked up his hoodie, throwing it in Gert's clothes basket. "Just get it back to me when it's clean, okay?"

Gert nodded. He began walking towards the door, and Gert about lost her mind. Did he really think she was going to make him go home? She rushed in front of him, blocking the door. "You can stay here Chase. You're crazy if you think you're leaving this home tonight."

His eyes widened, stunned by her bluntness. "Thank you. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"You don't have to. This is friendship, you dweeb. Now get into bed," she ordered, shutting her laptop still open on her desk. There was no way she was finishing her work now, she'd probably end up missing school tomorrow anyway. Perfect attendance and amazing grades didn't matter when someone was in need, especially when that someone was Chase.

"Ooookay mom," he said, getting under the covers of her now occupied bed. Oh my god, a shirtless Chase was in her bed. Gert dreamed of this moment so many times but she never imagined that it would a) ever happen and b) under these circumstances. On any other day, she'd probably just sleep on the floor. But he didn't want to be alone, right? It wouldn't be weird doing it this one time, would it? No, definitely not. Not weird at all.

She turned off the lights in her room and followed suit, crawling in next to him. Gert laid silently, facing the wall, trying so hard to keep her cool, but that was useless once she felt Chase's arms wrap around her abdomen, molding his body around her own. He interlocked their legs and buried his head into her neck. Oh my god, he was cuddling her.

"Is this okay?" he whispered into her ear, sending shivers up her spine. It would seem he could tell she was freaking out. She nodded. "It's okay if it's okay with you," she replied.

"It is. Thank you Gert. Thanks for always saving me," the softness and sincerity in his voice filling the now quiet room.

"Anytime."

She'd worry about that paper tomorrow.

*******

Three.

Honey, I wanna break you / I wanna throw you to the hounds

Gert and Chase were bickering. Again. For the third time that day.

They had been on the road for 5 hours now, in search of an abandoned motel to stay in. To no avail, they weren't having as much luck as they did with the vehicle they stole. They found an old van in an alleyway, keys still in the ignition. Go figure. Whoever was so careless to leave behind something so valuable was now their saving grace. Their hero.

It was Nico's turn to drive, and if this van wasn't filled with people she loved and adored, she'd probably run herself off the road right now. Not because of the fact that they were homeless, without cash, had no food, and that she was exceedingly tired, but because Gert and Chase wouldn't shut up.

She knew about their hookup, and she was the only one who knew that the two of them had admitted that they had feelings for each other. Nico wished they would both buck up and just get it over with already. They were meant to be together since they were four years old.

Apparently everyone knew that except for them. It was exhausting to watch them pick at one another and then see them staring longingly at the other when they weren't looking. That's how things had been ever since the night they ran away, and it got worse every day. They would argue over the stupidest things, one of them would get their feelings hurt, and then they would sulk for the remainder of their long days, refusing to speak to each other. So annoying.

Chase was like a love sick puppy. You could tell all he thought about was Gert. He thought she didn't want him, when Nico knew it was the exact opposite.  Gert, on the other hand, was better at hiding her feelings. She was also going on two weeks without her medication and her outbursts were getting harder to control. Nico had taken it upon herself to calm Gert down when things got bad, but lately even that wasn't working. She was suffering in plain sight and they all knew that, especially Chase. No one knew what to do about it.

Nico felt so badly for her, but she knew that if Gert would just TALK TO CHASE, things might get even the slightest bit better for her. But nope. Every time Nico tries to tell Gert that, Gert lifts a finger or a hand, tells her to shut up, and leaves her alone for the rest of the day.

That's okay though, because Nico has been up to something. She's been planning something for the past few days and everyone else was involved. Except for Gert and Chase, of course.

They just had to find a motel.

---

Hours later, Nico came upon a ratty motel that was still livable. There were still separate room intact and beds to sleep in, with working sewage systems. They could sleep! They could shower! Most importantly, Gert and Chase would finally get to talk! They wouldn't have to be annoyed by their best friends anymore!

The plan was that Alex would get his own room, so he could be on the lookout for the night.  He slept most of the way to the motel anyway, and was already good at all nighters from his many nights of gaming. Old Lace would stay with him to help and to keep him company. Molly, Karolina and Nico would share a room, because Nico wanted to room with Karolina and not Alex, obviously. Somehow,  Alex still had no idea about Karolina and Nico, but that was another thing to deal with on another night. Gert and Chase were the priority. So, it was decided that Molly would stay with Karolina and Nico, so Alex wouldn't suspect anything and so Gert and Chase would be forced to stay in the same room together.   

To no one's surprise, Gert was NOT happy about this idea.

"Why can't Molly just stay with me? She's my sister!" she exclaimed while pacing around the parking lot of the motel.

"Because Gert, I want to stay with Karolina and Nico. Bonding time outside of the van is important," Molly replied, "and no offense, but you snore."

"I DO NOT SNORE!"

The rest of the group struggled to not chuckle as they watched Gert throw the fit they all had anticipated. Chase stood off to the side, trying not to get in the middle of it all, not wanting to make things worse. He knew he wasn't Gert's favorite person at the moment so he didn't want to add fuel to the fire, even though he didn't really know what he ever did to her.

"It's just for one night, Gert. It's not the end of the world," Karolina remarked. Gert huffed and threw her hands in the air.

"I give up."

She picked up her bag and stomped off in the direction towards the designated room her and Chase were assigned. Chase looked around at everyone, bewildered, and followed behind her, keeping his distance.

"Boy is he in for a fun night," Alex said, while everyone else erupted into laughter. They were terrible friends, but it was for their benefit. They'd thank them later.

---

Gert hated her friends. She hated them so much. All the love she had in her heart for them had been poisoned into hate that day. Gert knew they planned this and wanted her to be miserable. Why did her friends have to care so much about what was going on between Gert and Chase? Nothing was going on anyway. They weren't anything at all. They didn’t even act like friends anymore. All they did was fight and disagree. Now she was stuck in a room with just him for a night. Gert couldn't think of anything more torturous than that.

At least there was two beds. They weren't smart enough to check to see if the room had one bed. Gert had one-upped them. She was beating their master plan.

She was sitting on her bed, reading some book she had picked up on one of their thrift store runs. Sometimes in between picking out some new clothes, she would grab a book or two to occupy her time. Her mind was a mess these days, between Chase and not having meds. It was nice to have a distraction every once in a while. Chase was in the shower, and Gert wished he would just sleep in the bathroom. Anything to keep her away from him in such close proximity. She had already showered earlier and was nice enough to not use all the hot water. She wasn't that terrible of a person. They hadn't said a word to each other since they entered the room and Gert assumed it would stay that way until tomorrow. At least she hoped.

Gert was in the middle of flipping a page in her book when the bathroom door opened. "Damn it," she said under her breath, taking a glance up to see a newly cleaned Chase in just a towel.

Steamy, extremely ripped, wet Chase in a towel.

Gert couldn't help but bite her lip. She covered her face with her book, hiding her blushing cheeks. She could feel how red they had gotten. The feelings rushing through her body needed to quit. Now wasn't the time for her hormones to be acting up. There was no time for pleasure, especially in a motel room this small with walls as thin as paper. God. She could feel herself getting warm. Why did Chase have to be so fucking HOT?

She pretended to read her book while he got dressed, sneaking a glance every now and then, hoping he couldn't tell she was peeking at him. And his ass.

Chase had a really nice ass.

Get a hold of yourself girl. That doesn't matter. It was a one time thing. Chill. She kept telling herself that. It's what she's been repeating to herself since that night before they ran away. It was never going to be anything and she needed to remember that. Or at least convince herself to believe that.

She got so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice he had already turned off his light and gotten into bed. Gert followed suit, switching her own lamp off and laying her book on the nightstand.

The room was uncomfortably silent and the divide (filled with an abundance of tension) between the two small beds could be cut with a knife.

Neither of them pretended to sleep. That was a useless tactic. They were both insomniacs on the run.

Chase was doing his best to avoid Gert because the last thing he wanted was to fight her again. He was so tired. Tired of running, tired of feeling, tired of pretending like he wasn't irrevocably in love with Gert Yorkes. She was all he thought about and it seemed with every passing day that she hated him more. Gert's anxiety was the worst it had been in years, seemingly because she had no medication, and he hated seeing her hurt. All he wanted to do was protect her, to hold her, to tell her it would all be okay. But no matter what he did or tried, she wouldn't let him in. She continued to push him away more.

Laying in this motel room scared him. He was almost afraid to breathe. Chase felt like that a lot around Gert. Not because she terrified him, but because the love he had for her had taken over his body like a sickness. He had been possessed by her. Her touch haunted him, her laugh echoed in the rare quiet moments they all had. And her kiss...it was all he thought about. He wanted to kiss her again so badly. Not knowing the night at the dance would be the last time he'd ever kiss her was something he wished wasn't his reality.

He didn't sleep much these days and when he did it was because his body couldn't stand being awake anymore. When exhaustion took over, he slept for eternities and dreamed of being with her. Chase knew he wouldn't sleep tonight, and he hated that, because the person he wanted most was less than two feet away from him and he couldn't have her. That was enough to cause never ending insomnia.

Chase wondered what time it was. This room didn't have a clock, go figure, and he had left his watch in the glove compartment of the van. He had nothing to occupy his time, especially in the dark. The moon wasn't even in view. He turned over on his side and of course, Gert was facing the other way. Part of him was relieved, but he was mostly sad.

He remembered their sleepovers as a kid. They always had so much fun together, and at night when they couldn't sleep because they were afraid of the dark, they'd play silent games or sneak off to a bed to sleep in together. They had the most unconventional friendship as children. It was pure and untouchable. But then they got older, and things got in the way. Feelings, fathers, death, fake popularity, and the fact that their parents were murderers. When the group got together again, Chase thought Gert might re-enter his orbit, and the rekindling was there until they fucked it all up. Until he fucked it all up.

They had sex and he wanted more, she didn't, she shut him down and he didn't speak up. He didn't tell her the truth. Chase was always so loyal to Gert. They would tell each other anything, and their few secrets never stayed hidden for long. Before Amy died, Gert was his safe haven, the only person who had never judged him. She knew everything about him and was there for him whenever she needed him. When Gert said it was a one time thing, he reverted back to the young boy who was taught to hide feelings, who was told to never show weakness. He should've told her it wasn't a one time thing that night, but instead Chase let Victor Stein's “Steins don’t show weakness” mantra get into his head at the worst moment. The moment that could've changed everything for the better but instead made everything worse.

He sighed, shutting his eyes, hoping he'd get in at least a few hours of sleep. It was worth a try. But his wish was soon cut off by the sound of a sniffle and slight movement.

"Gert?"

No reply.

Another sniffle. More movement.

A few moments went by before Chase tried again.

"Gert?" he whispered. No response again.

Of course. Damn it! Gert thought Chase was asleep and that he wouldn't hear her. Her stupid emotions caught up to her in this dark room and she had to release. She could only keep things to herself for so long. Her therapist always told her it wasn't good to build up emotions, but what did she know, she'd never been on the run with her friends and the boy she's loved since she was in preschool. She wasn't on the runs without her MEDICATION! So on days when Gert found herself alone, she'd let herself cry so no one would see. Clearly her mind didn't get the memo, because here she was, crying, in a room she shared with him. Chase Stein. The one she wished she could forget. The man she knew wouldn't let her cry softly to herself.

Nico's stupid plan was working. Ugh.

Chase couldn't stand it anymore. He got up from under the covers and crawled into Gert's bed, making sure not to touch her or say a word. It was her decision to react, or push him off the bed. He made his move. The ball was in her court.

Much to his surprise, she turned over to face him, tear stained cheeks and all. She continued to cry as he looked at her, absentmindedly moving a hand to her shoulder.

"I'm so scared," she choked out between sobs. Her crying only began to get worse. Chase hated when Gert cried.

"Everything is terrible. I don't have my meds, we don't have a place to live, Molly misses our parents, I miss my bed, we're probably going to prison, and on top of everything else, you- you're just- you're you. I don't even have you anymore. I have nothing anymore."

Chase’s heart shattered. He moved his hand from her shoulder to her cheek, stroking it gently. "You will always have me, Gert."

She shook her head. "I ruined this. My stupid mouth, my stupid brain..." Gert choked out, "ruined us."

So there was an "us." Chase thought to himself.

"It's not ruined if you don't want it to be. I know I don't want it to be."

Bam.

The truth was out there.

Gert's eyes narrowed. Her heart sped up. It was now or never. Even though Nico will get the satisfaction she desired, this is your only chance. Don't fuck this up, Yorkes.

"I don't want it to be either."

Chase now had both of his hands on her face. In the dark of night, four bright eyes lit up like stars for the first time in what seemed to be an eternity. Their lips naturally found their way to each other, Gert draping her body over Chase's. Soft kisses turned to heated making out, all that built up sexual tension leaving their bodies for the last time. When they were finished, all that kissing (and crying) left them exhausted.

So of course they slept in the same bed. "No need to separate when our body heat can keep each other warm," Gert had said.

Nico's plan had worked. And Gert would never tell her, but god was she thankful her best friend was as conniving as her. She'd tell her someday.

Maybe at the wedding.

*******

Four.

We don’t have forever / Baby daylight’s wasting / You better kiss me / Before our time is run out

At the hostel, Gert and Chase decided to share a room. There wasn't a reason for them to separate. They figured no matter what, they'd end up in the same bed by the end of the night anyway. Instead, Old Lace got her own room to chill in. She loved it, especially when she needed her space away from the humans. Dinosaurs have feelings too, you know. Most nights, though, she ended up sleeping in their room, on Chase's side.

Ever since Gert and Chase got their shit together, Lace had warmed up to Chase. She's always wanting to lay on Chase or play with him. Gert thinks it's adorable, Nico thinks it's crazy that Gert's feelings are so intense for Chase that they've spread to her dinosaur, and Molly is sad that she's not Lace's favorite anymore. "Lace has more than one favorite, Molly. She loves you," Gert remembers to tell her every so often. Molly has lost so much of her innocence already, Gert won't let her lose anything else.

Their bed is the biggest in the house, not because they're a couple, because so are Karolina and Nico, but because some nights Molly would sleep with them too. Originally they had a smaller bed, but on their first night in the hostel Molly got scared and ended up sneaking into their bed. Chase woke up that morning with a full head of curly hair covering his face.

It was cute, how Molly had taken to Chase. They always had an interesting bond and Chase had always seen her as a little sister, but in some ways he had now taken on the paternal role in her life. He disciplined her, gave her chores to do, and would read to her every night before bed. It had become part of his daily routine, he told Gert, and he loved doing it. They also strength trained together every day with nonsensical house items, which brought them even closer.

Gert loved how much Chase loved Molly, and how much he loved her dinosaur. But mostly she really loved Chase. She really, really loved Chase.

And he knew it.

It happened that one spectacular night, when Molly was fast asleep in her own room. They laid cuddling in their own bed, clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, their bodies intertwined. Chase was mindlessly playing with Gert's hair, which she loved. She was basking in their glow, fingers trailing up and down his chest. He placed a kiss on the top of her hair, which was much longer now and hadn't been properly dyed in month. Chase made a mental note that they'd have to get hair dye on their next grocery run. Gert would never speak up about needing anything, because lately luxuries don't come easy to them, but that doesn't mean he can't get it for her. There wasn't any way she'd flip out as much as she did when he snuck off to get her meds. Chase really thought Gert was going to murder him in cold blood that night. He couldn't stand to see her suffer anymore, so him and Alex came up with the perfect plan so that Chase could get into the Yorkes' home to find her meds and leave. Everyone else approved, except for Gert, who was unaware of the night's events (which went off without a hitch!) until she woke up the next day to Chase holding a bag out in front of her, which contained her meds and a few other things from her bedroom, including her super old stuffed dinosaur that she slept with until they ran away. She threw the bag at him and berated him for two hours, telling him he was foolish and that she wasn't worth the risk. Over and over Chase reiterated that she was, that this wasn't a mindless mission because her health was at risk, and that he would do anything for her just to make her happy. Eventually she gave in, told him thank you, and promised that if he ever did anything like this again that there would be hell to pay.

Ever since then, things had been so much better. Gert's anxiety was under control and they were living in permanent bliss, just like they were right now.

"Chase?"

"Yeah, babe?"

Gert looked up at him, pausing for a second, as if she was finding the right words or the courage to speak.

"I love you."

I know, Chase thought. But this wasn't the time for a Star Wars reference.

Gert was the first to say it. THIS was huge.

He smiled at her and kissed the tip of her nose.

"I love you too."

*******

Yours was the first face that I saw / I think I was blind before I met you

Gert and Chase had met for the first time when they were four. Wide-eyed and overall clad, with light up sneakers and pigtails. They grew up together, going through every awkward stage together. Best friends forever. They had the greatest group of friends and they had each other. Every heartbreak, every serious injury, every life event. All the school concerts, the sports games, school plays. They lived through it all side by side. When Amy died, they drifted apart, but it didn't take long for them to find another again, but then unthinkable happened. Their parents were murderers, one thing lead to another, and soon they found themselves on the run.

But they weren't alone.

Gert had Chase and Chase had Gert.

They had loved one another since they were little, but those childhood crushes had blossomed into a full blown relationship. A very serious relationship. They said I love you for the first time naked in their bed after mind blowing sex. Nothing about them was conventional. At the time, they literally lived in an underground mansion that could collapse at any time. Normal didn’t exist anymore.

Being in such close quarters for so long intensified their relationship. They fought hard, but loved harder. Every day brought a new milestone for them. Things were moving fast.

The night Gert almost died changed everything for them. It happened during the final battle between their parents. They had just defeated Jonah when he had one final punch left, targeting Gert with his wrath. Karolina was caught off guard, and came to Gert’s defense too soon. She still blames herself today, even though Gert is very much alive and healthy. Nico healed her after everything had finally ended. Chase kissed her harder than he ever had in his life as she came back to him in his arms.

None of it seemed real. Jonah was gone, Gibborim was done with, and their never ending nightmare was over.

They were free to live normal lives again, if they even knew what that meant. Living on the run changes you as a person and their perception of life had changed so much over time. Freedom felt like a blessing and a curse. They had to learn how to live again.

For Chase, he knew what he had to do almost immediately. Just the thought of living life without Gert shocked him into overdrive. He proposed outside the hostel with one of Nico's old rings, and promised her he'd get a better one eventually. She accepted and said he didn't have to, that she would've accepted a ring pop.

They vowed to enroll at school (because they had already gotten their GEDS since they never graduated) and get jobs before the wedding. After they both got accepted to their dream schools, they used their savings to buy a home and got stable jobs (Gert worked as a receptionist, Chase surprisingly got a job as a nanny - kids really took to him.)

They got married at the end of summer.  It was a very intimate wedding and they only invited the core group. Old Lace was their flower girl, at Chase's request. Molly was the maid of honor, and Nico was the officiant. She swears she didn't ,but she cried the whole time. They spent their honeymoon at home, deciding that they had already spent so much time away and that they would rather spend an entire week off of school and work eating bad food and watching TV, with lots of sex in between.

Years went by and things slowly but surely got back to normal. Gert and Chase got into a good daily routine, and no matter how busy their days are, they always make time for each other. They still live in the small house they bought straight out of the hostel in Los Angeles. They’re as in love as they were when they were teens. Old Lace still lives in the basement. They have a cat now and her name is Jane. Both having graduated from college, they now have steady jobs, and they’re both doing the things they love. Chase is a science teacher and Gert works as a mental health counselor. She never imagined herself as one but life lead her there, and she loves helping people who are experiencing the same thing she still lives through every day. Who would’ve thought Gert and Chase would’ve ended up being so content? Life seemed so dark and pointless for the two for so long. They imagined they’d be on the run forever. Now they’re here, living their dreams, loving each other day in and day out. They’re in their late twenties and they’re happy. Everything is great. That, is until, Gert realizes she is late. Very, very late. Work had gotten so hectic lately, and it was the holiday season, so when she wasn’t working she was Christmas shopping, or at a Christmas party. She had lost track of time. It was a week before Christmas when she bought a pregnancy test and the results weren’t surprising: A big fat positive. She took four more to make sure, and yep, she was very much pregnant. Right before Chase got home that day, she vomited twice, and she wasn’t sure if that was pregnancy induced sickness or just nerves - or both. They had talked about having children recently and they were both on board with having at least one. Chase loved kids and wanted to be a father, very much so. Gert wanted to be a mom, but anxieties and fears ate away at her whenever she was faced with questions about having her own children. She didn’t want to ruin her kid’s life the way her parents had destroyed her own. It was a topic brought up a lot in her own therapy sessions. That night, Gert sat Chase down and showed him all five tests. He cried, of course, overjoyed with the idea of finally having a kid of his own. He kissed Gert so much that night, and there was much sex that was had. The next day they called Karolina and Nico, who were surprised but couldn’t wait to be the best gay aunts to their future niece or nephew. Alex was next, who started sobbing on the phone when he found out, which surprised Gert. Alex and Chase had gotten extremely close over time, and they were best bros now. He couldn’t wait to be an uncle. Molly found out over their weekly family dinner, and she was so happy. Gert was scared to tell her, since they were both so close and she didn’t want her to feel replaced or jealous, but she was genuinely happy for them. The pregnancy went as smooth as possible and Gert felt really lucky. Her morning sickness wasn’t terrible and there were no complications. They found out early on that they were having a girl, which they were both happy about. Chase couldn’t wait to have four girls in the house: Gert, Old Lace, Jane the cat, and the baby. He was glad to be seemingly outnumbered for life. Of course, since Gert’s pregnancy went so well, that meant her impending labor was cursed. At least that’s what she told herself. And oh man, was she right. She went into labor early, during a session, because of course. Her water broke all over her patient’s shoes. She was MORTIFIED. Chase was at work, teaching summer school classes, and had to leave during their big exam. Gert was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, which she HATED. She kept screaming about how blown out of proportion this was, how it wasn’t necessary, how she could have driven herself, and so on. When she got to the hospital, she spent the first few hours of labor alone, because Chase got stuck in terrible LA traffic. He ran into her room completely frazzled, his hair everywhere, tie undone. Thankfully he didn’t miss much. Gert was in labor for over 24 hours, because being just like her mother, their baby had to make her first appearance a dramatic one.   When finally she came into the world, she had a wild set of lungs on her and a shit ton of hair. She looked like the perfect mixture of the two of them; Gert hoped she would have Chase’s dimples. They named her Katherine Elizabeth, simply because they liked the name. She’s a few hours old now, and Gert is getting some well deserved sleep in her hospital bed. Chase, on the other hand, is sat in the chair next to her bed, holding his daughter. This is a moment he thought would never come. For a while, when he was a teen, he swore off having children. There was no way he would be a father after the way his own raised him. The emotional and physical scars Victor Stein left behind were lifelong markers he would never get rid of, but he did his best to move past them. When he and Molly got closer in the hostel, he realized how well he worked with kids and that he was nothing like his father. He was the complete opposite. He was a nanny during college to two amazing children and went to school to become a teacher. If you can’t tell, he really likes kids. His ingrained fears of fatherhood came back to haunt him around Gert’s 8th month of pregnancy. He didn’t sleep well for weeks and when he did he would have nightmares. One night Gert found him wide awake on the couch at 3 am. She had woken up to pee and heard the sounds of Friends coming from the living room. Sitting next to him, she waited patiently for him to open up to her about whatever was troubling him, because he wasn’t the type to be up at 3 am on a Sunday (or on any day for that matter.) Chase finally admitted to Gert that he was scared, and she told him she was too. Many tears were shed and they agreed everything would be okay because they had each other. Like always. He doesn’t remember the last time he and Gert didn’t sleep in the same bed. They had quite literally been inseparable since the day they got together. But right now, he just can’t seem to tear himself away from the little angel sleeping in his arms. The tiny human they had both created. So now he sits in this not so comfy chair, in clothes that reek of sweat. He hasn’t slept in days. It’s okay though, because right now, none of that matters. He’d catch up on sleep another day.

#gert yorkes #chase stein #gertchase #marvel's runaways #runaways #runaways fic #mine #AHHHHH I'M SO NERVOUS

[robininthelabyrinth]

Victory in Anticipation (Coldwave) - Chapter 3

Fic: Victory in Anticipation (Ao3 Link) - Chapter 3/3 Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow, Norse Mythology Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart Sequel to Victory in Waiting - read first

Summary: Leonard Snart is dead and his soul has gone to Valhalla, the home of heroes, and that’s the end of the story.

Well.

Not quite.

Warnings:  references to genocide, torture, animal cruelty; Norse mythology appropriate torture shown on-screen

———————————————————————–

Len’s so cold he can feel it in his bones.

He’s lost feeling in his fingers long ago. He used every minute of the head start he got, walking the crooked ways in the shadows where even Heimdall has trouble seeing him, but cat-fur-cloak or no, he can’t hide forever and eventually the alarm was raised. The hounds caught his trail some while ago – he’s not sure how long, time doesn’t seem to work right here in the place between the worlds, the mountain stream that drizzles down the gigantic tree roots that Ed called Ygg-something – but they only found the clothing he took with him in the pack. He left it half in a frozen lake, the one with the strange moving shapes under the water. Dead shapes.

Draugr, if such a term can be applied to creatures that weren’t human to begin with.

Jötunheim is –

It’s a graveyard.

There had been some glorious years in Len’s youth when his father had been in jail and his mother still alive; she’d enrolled him in the Hebrew school down the way at the local Reform temple to keep him busy in the afternoons until she finished work. He’d picked up what smatterings of religion he knew about there.

They’d covered the Holocaust, the Shoah, because of course they did – they watched the movies, heard the stories from people’s families, saw the pictures. Every year on remembrance day.

That experience is the only reason he can look upon the ruins of a world murdered in whole and keep moving.

There are bones lying unburied in the fields. Buildings torn open like crabshells to get at the people hiding within. An entire capital city razed to the ground.

Some of the bones are very small.

Others are gigantic.

Not all look human.

It doesn’t matter. They were people, and they are dead, and from what Ed says, it was all to prevent some sort of stupid prophecy. Disgust doesn't even begin to describe Len's feelings on the subject, but he can't think about that now. He has to focus on surviving.

It’s very cold.

Ed says that the coldest place in the universe – the Norse universe, anyway; Len thinks the deepest, darkest parts of space spotted by the Hubble might beg to differ – is called Niflheim, and that before, it was confined into its own realm. He said there was a chance it might be bleeding over into Jötunheim.

Bleeding is the wrong word.

Flooding might be a better one.

The icy water is seeping in everywhere he looks, turning every low point into mud that he has to trudge through, a roiling mist creeping in at the edges of his vision that freezes everything it touches to the point of shattering, and it’s so cold. It’s so incredibly cold.

There’s ice on his fingertips.

Len tries not to look at them. He knows very well what the penalties of frostbite are, and his hands –

He gave up one hand for Mick before.

He’ll give up both to get back to him if he has to.

The apples Iðunn gave him are helping; he’s spacing out the bites. They warm him up inside and let him keep going, but even with the strict rationing he’s been imposing on himself, he’s running out.

The crooked paths are long and twisted, and he’s so very cold. He’s walking along the stream – it keeps trying to lose him, quick turns and dips through ditches, doubling back at odd points that definitely weren’t doing that when he was looking ahead earlier – and he has to keep his eyes firmly fixed to the ground lest he run into an ice-trap, which is like a pothole but with a Venus flytrap’s teeth made of sharp icicles.

He’s pretty sure he heard one of the hounds fall into one, pained whimpers and yips as the ice spread over the dog’s legs, inching up his body toward his heart in veins of ice.

The one-handed war-god hadn’t cared.

There’d been a loud crack of sound, and then there hadn’t been any more wounded noises.

Len wishes he had his gun with him. He’d show the bastard what it means to be cold.

There’s a cave in sight; the stream leads straight there, almost grudgingly, like it’s annoyed that Len’s gotten this far.

At this point, Len just hopes the cave is warmer than where he is now. He can’t hear the dogs anymore – though he’s not sure if that’s because they’re no longer following him or because his ears have frozen over. It’s taking everything he has to keep moving.

He swallows the last piece of apple he has and forces his legs to move, one after the other.

The cave remains stubbornly far away, or maybe he’s just moving slow.

His hands have stopped shaking. He remembers that that’s a bad sign, but he’s not sure he remembers why.

He’s almost there.

He’s almost –

The cave entrance is right in front of him.

Len reaches out with frozen fingers and manages to wrap his hand around the stone.

He pulls himself forward –

Hands shoot out from within the cave and pull him in.

Len gasps in negation, both from the idea of being caught and from the terrible warm emanating from those hands, the warmth of cave, the burning warmth, the –

“Hey, Lenny,” a familiar voice says.

Len squints up at a blur that is coalescing into an even more familiar face.

“Mick?” he asks, scarcely daring to believe it.

“Yeah,” Mick says gruffly, his hands like brands on Len’s frozen shoulders. “It’s me. I came to get you, but it looks like you got most of the way out all by yourself.”

He pauses.

“What’s with all the cat hair?”

Len laughs till his eyes fill with tears.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mick was kind enough to bring Len’s parka with him, which – once the cat fur is brushed off, and it comes off so easily now, when before no mud or wind or branches could dislodge it – he wraps around Len’s shoulders and then slides his arms around him, helping him warm up. They sit at the entrance of the cavern and Len leans in, tucks his head under Mick’s chin the way he hasn’t in years.

Len watches the ice drip off his fingers with fascination.

His fingers still work. He has no idea how he got that lucky.

Mick very considerately blows on his fingers as they defrost.

Len permits it until his brain defrosts enough to realize what Mick’s doing, at which point he flips Mick off.

“How’d you survive Jötunheim?” Mick asks, leaning his chin against Len’s head.

“Cat fur to hide me from sight; clothing to distract the hounds,” Len says. “Golden apples to keep me going.”

Mick nods.

They sit in silence for a few minutes.

There’s a thought wiggling in the back of Len’s mind. He stays still, stays quiet, and lets it come forward until it’s loud enough for him to hear.

Then he asks, “How’d you know about Jötunheim? How’d you get here, anyway? Where is here?”

Mick hesitates, which is unlike him.

“I think,” he says slowly. “I think – it’s time for you to meet my family. My parents.”

And he takes Len by the hand, urging him to stand up, and Mick leads him, hand-in-hand, deeper into the great cavern, past the stalactites and the rock.

Igneous rock.

Almost like those videos he’d seen as a kid, educational ones. The inside of a volcano.

And inside –

There’s a man.

“Fuck,” Len says, because that’s just obscene. The man’s half naked, clothing in tatters; he’s splayed out on his back, his arms bound down, his legs bound down, all on three enormous stones, and above him there is a tree with a frankly enormous snake with glistening fangs fully extended, thick gobs of poison dripping off of them in a steady stream, like a leaky faucet. A woman sits by his side, her legs splayed out in exhaustion, and she holds out a mostly-filled bowl with scarred hands to catch the poison before it hits the man’s face. His face is scarred, too, but even as Len watches the scars are sinking back into his skin, little by little. His hair is red, and his face –

His face has Mick’s facile expressions, his sharp chin. Mick’s broad jawline Len sees in the woman, his eyes, his neck.

“Fuck,” Len says again, with even more feeling this time.

These are Mick’s parents.

These are -

Thereupon they took three flat stones, and set them on edge and drilled a hole in each stone –

Maybe Len should have stayed to listen to the end of that story, but whatever. He’s even more glad now that he punched that skald right in his smirking face.

“Mother,” Mick says. “Father.”

The woman looks up, and a smile crosses her weary face. “My little wildfire,” she says. “You have grown large and strong at last.”

Mick’s hand squeezes tightly on Len’s to the point of pain.

The man turns his head and slits his eyes open. “My boy,” he croaks, lips dry, throat echoing with the sound of screams through years uncounted. “My little bright one.”

“Father,” Mick says again, and his voice shakes.

“Come and embrace me, little one,” his mother says. “I would give my soul to embrace you, but I cannot spare my hands.”

Mick doesn’t move at first, so Len untangles their fingers – it takes some effort – and gives Mick a little push in her direction.

Mick looks at Len, eyes wide and lost.

“Go on,” Len urges, then looks at the whole set up. Dropping his voice, he adds, “Ain’t there anything that can be done for him?”

Mick shakes his head mutely, but definitively, and then goes to his mother’s side, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around her.

“And when you are done,” Mick’s father says, amusement threading through his voice despite his circumstances, “you really must introduce us to your companion. Though he will have to forgive our poor hospitality; I fear that I am a bit tied up at the moment.”

Len really could get to like this guy. He’s a dick. He’s chained to a rock with a poisonous snake perched a meter above his head, and he’s still a dick. And still making puns. Now that’s devotion to the art.

“My name’s Len,” he offers. Despite the association with his father, he tends to prefer to introduce himself by his last name in an attempt to keep some emotional distance. But, well – this is Mick’s family, and so it’s his family too, he guesses.

Admittedly, this was not what he was imagining, insofar as he ever imagined it. Which he hadn't.

But to be fair, when was Mick ever what he imagined, what he could have imagined? He’s always been so much more.

Besides, not like Len can really cast any stones. He’s an einherjar, now, and one that escaped; that’s not exactly normal either.

Len shoves his hands into his pockets, fingering the feather he used as a token to escape. Yeah. Definitely not normal.

“Len is my bride,” Mick says, and Len flushes. He’s never going to get used to Mick saying that, and it’s been – decades, now. Mick says it with such pride, though, that Len’s given up all attempts at suggesting alternatives. At least Mick’s usually content with saying ‘partner’.

“You have found a bride!” Mick’s mother says, smile lighting up her face, and Mick’s father grins happily, too. “And are you happy?”

“No one could make me as happy as Len does,” Mick says, and means it, and Len flushes even more.

“He seems very fine indeed,” Mick’s father offers, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You must tell us all of his good qualities – how you met, of course, and how you won him – we must judge ourselves how fine a bride you have won, for only the best is good enough for our boy –”

“You must release me, my son,” Mick’s mother says quietly.

Mick’s father’s smile fades and his eyes go wide, white all around. “Not yet,” he protests. “Not yet; surely it is not so soon –”

“If it were longer, I would have waited, my love,” Mick’s mother says. Her eyes are sad. Mick releases her, and his eyes are wide, too, fear and sadness and frustrated anger all. “I cannot delay further.”

Len looks from one to the other to Mick in bemusement. He’s not sure what they’re talking about. He should have listened to that story till the end, even if it was about Mick and his brother being brutalized by uncaring gods. What is it that she has to do that makes them so scared? So sad?

The snake shifts its great, shining coils, tensing like a spring about to pop, its dead-looking eyes glimmering in anticipation.

And then the woman pulls away the bowl, fuck, why?

The poison, without any barrier, falls down straight onto the guy’s face, and he screams – his flesh sizzles – the poison eats away at him like acid – his back arches in inhuman contortion – the ground shakes –

The woman walks as quickly as she can manage towards the cliff, going to pour away the poison; she has to walk, not run, because she’ll spill it otherwise, because it is acid, the poison, that’s why her fingers are so scarred –

Mick gives a cry of pain, like he, too, is being burned alive by acid poison just watching this happen to his father, and Len always knew that Mick loved his father, not like Len and his own, and then Mick – because Mick’s a self-sacrificing idiot, and Len’s always known that too – Mick sticks his own hands between the snake and his father.

And then Mick screams.

He screams and he screams and he screams, but he keeps his hands cupped together, trying to catch as much of the poison as he can even as it drips down to his father's face.

He screams.

No.

No.

Len did not come all this way, he did not survive the endless tedium of Valhalla, befriend the greatest and least of the creatures of the lands of the gods, did not capture Ratatoskr and learn his secrets, did not steal a feather from Muninn and evade the hounds of Tyr, walk the crooked paths and survive the dead wasteland of Jötunheim, only to find Mick and then watch him suffer.

Len dashes forward, desperate to find some way to help, something, anything to make it stop – it’s just chains, holding him down, surely, and Len knows chains, there must be some key, some lock, some way – he reaches for his pockets, his lockpicks, but he doesn’t have any lockpicks, they were all lost on his way to Valhalla and there weren’t any others there, but he does have Muninn’s feather, which tapers to a long point at the end, maybe he can use that –

His fingers close over the feather, and suddenly he sees it, the knot at the high left corner, the lock that binds the chains together.

Len uses the feather and his nail in combination, desperately prying the lock open, and it’s only years of experience being cool in the face of all provocation, years of practicing on every type of lock in existence no matter how loud or noisy, no matter if the police are shooting at him or Mick’s lit the whole place on fire again, that lets him keep his focus now, with Mick screaming and Mick’s father screaming, too, as the poison burns through Mick’s hands and falls upon his face, Mick’s mother sobbing as she hurries to the edge –

Len pops the lock.

He grabs Mick’s father and pulls him away from the stones, from the snake, throws the two of them into Mick to get them away, away from the snake and the rocks and everything - and suddenly, abruptly, everything is dead quiet.

The screams stop, the sobs stop, the hissing stop, even the damnable plop-plop-plop of the snake’s venom stops.

“What have you done?” Mick’s father asks blankly. His face is healing even as Len watches, much faster than before, zipping back up like a Hollywood special effect. Even Mick’s hands are healing impossible-fast, bubbling flesh calming, turning back from blistered red to his regular ruddy tone.

It’s only after a few moments of everybody staring at him – all of them, Mick and his mother and his father and even the snake are all staring at him – that Len realizes that it wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“I…got you away from the snake?” he says hesitantly. He’s not sure why they’re all gaping at him.

“'None who wish to can release him',” Mick’s father quotes. “How did you get around that? No one who wants to let me out of my bindings can do so; that’s the spell and the curse that binds me.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Len says, blinking. “Not really. I mean. It wasn’t really my primary objective or anything.”

“What?”

“I didn’t particularly care one way or another about releasing you,” Len clarifies. “No offense, you seem cool and all, but I met you, like, five minutes ago and yes, your situation sucked and all, but I’m pretty used to ignoring terrible things.”

“Then what did you want?” Mick’s father demands.

“I wanted Mick to get his hands out from under that stupid snake,” Len says blankly. Isn’t it obvious? “And he wouldn’t do that if you were still there.”

They stare.

“It was hurting him,” Len emphasizes.

They all stare at him a few seconds longer, and then Mick’s father starts to laugh, high and clear and incredibly amused. “Oh, my son,” he laughs, bending over at the waist. “My son, my son! What a bride you have brought before us!”

“Do you know what you just did?” Mick asks Len, his eyes still wide with shock.

“Uh,” Len says. He’s getting the sinking feeling that more just happened than he thinks what he did really warrants.

“Do you know what happens when he is released?” Mick’s voice actually cracks in the middle of that sentence. He’s clearly under a lot of stress; Len has no idea why. It’s not like Mick doesn’t know about Len’s skill at picking locks.

“I may have left before hearing the end of that story,” Len confesses.

Mick’s father howls with laughter.

“Do you even know what Ragnarök is?” Mick shrieks. It's very unlike him.

“No one ever said!” Len says defensively. “All the other einherjar wouldn’t talk about it! And it’s not like I ever looked up Norse myths before, okay? Other than, like, that one Xena episode…technically it was a Hercules episode, but it came on at the same time as the regular Xena episode…and I only saw half of that, too…”

Mick puts his head into his hands that way he always does when Len does something beyond belief. Mick’s mother wraps her arms around her son and hides her smile in his shoulder.

“What gold is this,” Mick’s father says, utterly delighted. “I would not change it for the world; this is the finest joke I have ever heard.”

“Lenny,” Mick says, his voice slightly muffled by his fingers. “Ragnarök is the end of the world.”

“What,” Len says.

“The sun turns black, earth sinks in the sea; the hot stars down from heaven are whirled; fierce grows the steam and the life-feeding flame, till fire leaps high about heaven itself,” Mick’s mother says, her voice lyrical. “Now Garm howls loud before Gnipahellir; the fetters will burst, and the wolf run free; much do I know, and more can see, of the fate of the gods…you didn’t know?”

Len opens his mouth, then closes it again when nothing seems to come out.

After a few seconds, he finds his voice. “So, uh,” he says. “Most awkward meet the parents ever, or most awkward meet the parents ever, am I right?”

And Loki’s laughter fills the room.

#dccoldwave #my fic #mick rory #leonard snart #loki #victory at end

[madefate-a]

something that will remain | fic.

it’s harder to heal than to kill. 

“More? Goddess save us, there are only five beds left. Take stock, move the healed and try to reserve space for the sickest."

The hard work was never over – but had it been so wrong to hope for a reprieve after a mission fated from a higher power? Perhaps Kel would be restless without work to do, but Neal had spent a full week picturing his hanging on Traitor’s Hill, which only served to heighten his appreciation for a well deserved rest.

He’d said as much, too. Quite a few times if honesty was the name of the game. And his complaints had only been the briefest of distractions from New Hope’s construction. With so many hands for so much labor now, there was little he could do to delay the raising of walls and digging of latrines. Which meant he felt fully comfortable in running his mouth at every available chance.

This was not one of those chances – though he’d give an eye for a moment to throw his hands in the air and take a deep breath. War had not ended with Blayce. Maggur had not ended with Blayce. He was clearly growing desperate after the death of his pet mage. Here, a stone’s throw from the Vassa and the border, the raiding parties were riding in every other week and the number of homes and towns destroyed was rising heavens high. Apparently, with his victory not guaranteed, the warlord was hoping force would work as well as time had been not two months prior.

The strain of all of it was showing. In Merric’s pallid complexion, in the morning drills practiced before there were even enough rooms for the refugees. In Kel’s grimly set mouth and the set of her shoulders.

In the gods-damned amount of patients flowing into the infirmary.

"Sir, where do we move those who can stand?"

Neal watched the chaos unfold from the very center of the long rows of beds, one of his two entire healers hovering at his elbow. Frustration was a wrinkling of his brow and a desire to tell the wide-eyed young man that his growing resemblance to a horse fly did no lick of good in the woefully understaffed medical center.

"Fanche has the list of open rooms – send someone to check but don’t leave your post here. Not with another wave coming in."

He would check later what town these newly homeless, and largely ill, were coming from. There were few settlements left on the border and the knowledge was certainly important but there was only so much he could know – could focus on – at once. For now, it was down to his eyes alone and a sheet growing more inkstained by the moment to record all names and ailments until one of those marvelous clerks arrived.

I’ll have to send a courier at first opportunity. Perhaps father could spare some time, we’re going to be fifty patients to a healer within a week’s time –

"Sir!"

"I told you, send someone –"

"No, it’s Barden!"

Neal was sharp but remembering the names of two hundred odd patients was a monumental task in and of itself. He finished the last line and turned on his heel.

”– Mithros.“

Holls Barden – it was a man he’d personally attended to just that morning, one who’d been here for a week at the most modest estimate. The bandages that had, just an hour ago, been the pristine white that spoke volumes of cleanliness were now spotted crimson. Customary panic had Neal’s heart in his throat even as he abandoned his notes and half sprinted down the row, mind racing much more quickly than his legs as he mentally rattled off what he knew.

Bright color – recent bleed. But still a bleed, so internal complications? Something overlooked?

Overlooked. Even only thought, the word was a stone in his stomach. This was his work, his personal touch, his mistake. Before his hands were even on the man’s abdomen they sparkled with a crackling green fire.

"What happened?” Neal barked, looking only at his patient and missing the cowed look on the apprentice’s young face.

“I don’t – I don’t know, I was checking those who’ve been here a while, trying to free up space for the new refugees –…”

“Move."

Neal was more than happy to give the reins of command over to anyone capable of handling them on the battlefield. It was, more often than not, Kel and with her at the helm he knew that he would ride straight into the Black God’s furnace if he had to. But it was that very nature that hammered home the unfortunate consequence of his waspish demeanor when faced with taking control when he was required to. Hopefully the young man would understand.

The moment his emerald fire sank into Barden’s skin, Neal’s world became blood. Medicinal Sight was overwhelming at the best of times but this – it took full, precious minutes to wade through the liquid filled cavities to find the source of the flood. By now the bandages did nothing but provide just one more barrier between the wound and the world, and the world still won. It escaped his notice how red soaked his hands had become in so short a time.

There. It was so slight he thought his first glimpse confirmed only a shadow. But there it was – a separation of the thin tissue of a small artery. The two halves still showed where they had been joined by magic’s force, pulled into a shape meant to help them heal back to wholeness. A shape that would need only hours to fully seal. A shape that had almost held for long enough.

Driven by instinct, threads of green circled the tear. They frayed slightly, towards the ends, reacting to the erratic pulse in Neal’s throat. But it should have been enough – was enough to knit flesh against flesh until it was smoothly joined.

It was only when Neal pulled back, returned to inhabit the entirety of his being, that he learned Barden’s heart was no longer beating.

"Sir?"

Blue-violent shadows had already blossomed around Barden’s lips and under his eyes. His nose played host to drying blood – the same that coated his mouth, stuck to his chin. His eyes red rimmed. His eyes were open.

"Sir?"

"Check the rotation,” Neal heard himself say, “Give his name to the grave-digger on duty. Do not tell anyone else.”

“You want me to go myself?"

He knew he should have been annoyed by the question – no matter how much this order contradicted the one he’d given only minutes ( minutes? ) before, it was still a command. But the only thing Neal could think in that moment was that the young healer’s name was Tymon, and that his Gift was the same yellow as a winter sunrise.

"Go,” he said. Tymon went.

And then he couldn’t think much of anything. When he turned, he nearly started out of his skin when he saw Gil’s powdery beard and dark grey eyes, sharp even in death and memory. And when he took a step backwards, he half expected the cool, rigid flesh of Haven’s corpses to press against his back, stiffening and rotting where they had died. 

Maybe there were excuses. First it was Merric’s voice in his mind, supplying things that should have helped: “Gil died on the battlefield. What could you have done? You had to save your reserves, there was no telling who would need what." 

You had to wait until the dust cleared – you had to wait for Kel –

Kel was in the newly erected Keep now, testing out her unlearned fear of heights by mapping the viewable land from that perch. Merric was riding on his noon patrol. Neal was killing people in his infirmary.

He had known – had always known – that he would not be enough. He was no legend; not a true-born hero like Kel, nor gods-touched like his father or his knight mistress. Not meant for greatness like – like Graeme. Never meant to carry the family name, not educated enough to carry an entire infirmary on battle patching and crossed fingers and lucky breaks.

When he was outside, Neal realized that he’d been walking. Away, thankfully, from where Kel might see. She would have to know and would probably not blame him, but hopefully it would be hours or even days before she checked the list of the dead. Because she should, really, give audible voice to that blame. Any decent human half worth their weight would have argued that a barely-educated healer had no business trying to save lives and surely the Crown could have spared a university graduate. 

Sunlight burned his eyes – or maybe they were just burning in the sunlight when he looked down at his hands, rusty red up to the elbows. When he saw the last stragglers being ushered in through the front entrance. 

He shouldn’t wait. He didn’t wait. This was, after all, nothing new. 

It was not his first kill. Merely the first without a sword. 

#( nealan. ) #( hc. ) #( writing. ) #@tumblr let me reblog my shit in peace w/o deleting it kthx #but y eA h #remember when i used to be good @ writing #yfip #i did so much writing for neal that i 100% forgot abt j fc

[therearemonstersinthedark]

Book 2: Luciferous

 Chapter 13: Forest Fires

A Guardians of the Galaxy Fanwork

Pairings: Peter Quill / Gamora (one-sided), Peter Quill & Nebula (freindship)

Genre: Adventure, general

Word Count: 4.5k

Rating: T to be safe, mild gore and cussing in some chapters

Links: Fanfiction.net || Ao3

Summary: Mantis shares her favorite item, and Peter struggles to contact Eternity.

Author’s Notes: Title is from ‘Forest Fires’ by Lauren Aquelina

Chapter 13: Forest Fires

Peter and the Guardians remained in the court for some time afterwards. The closeness of his friends and Gamora's steady voice as she instructed Mantis and answered her questions kept him company while he struggled to come to terms with Nebula's realization. He'd been dying. The thought sent shudders over his skin. He'd known he'd been seriously injured during the battle on Traxxon III, but finding out just how close he had come to never waking up again, and what may have happened to his friends and this universe without him, left him uncharacteristically speechless.

"We need another weapon." Gamora's voice broke through the silence, and Peter looked up to find her jogging up the steps towards him.

"Um, I don't have any," he said, not sure what she was expecting here. "My blasters were destroyed by Ronan."

"Not blasters, something like a sword or another staff," Gamora said, coming to a stop half-way up the stairs and turning her eyes on Drax. "May we borrow your knives?"

"No." Drax's answer was flat and absolute.

Gamora narrowed her eyes, clearly not expecting such a rude refusal. "It's for the good of the whole team."

"No," Drax repeated. "I will not lend you my blades."

Gamora's lips pressed into a thin line and her shoulders stiffened into a pose Peter recognized very well; it was the same look she used to give the Guardians' when someone was being particularly stubborn or obtuse and needed a good tongue lashing, usually to be reminded that they were good guys now. Before things could progress any further, Groot cut in from behind her.

"I am Groot." Groot had left the fountain and was standing at the bottom of the stairs. The colossus held one arm out. From his palm a vine sprouted, growing rapidly until it formed a long, straight staff which he snapped off and handed up to Gamora with an appeasing smile. "I am Groot."

Gamora deflated slightly, turning away from Drax to accept the gift with a half-smile of her own. "Thank you."

"I am Groot." Groot nodded and returned to his fountain, shooting Peter an easy smile as he went.

Gamora spun the staff a few times before placing it at her side and turning back to Peter. "This will do for now, but it would be better to have something more solid."

"So now you're giving me homework?" Peter sighed, but it was hard to even pretend to be upset when Gamora was finally choosing to speak with him.

"You have eight cycles left until our deal is up," she reminded him before returning to Mantis in the open space below.

Eight cycles. Right. As if he didn't have enough to worry about right now, he had hardly more than a week left to search all of the known galaxies under Thanos's control for two people who may or not even be alive. By the time he got back home, he was going to have an ulcer and his hair would be ghost white from all this stress. If it hadn't all fallen out by then.

Peter sat up and stretched his arms, conjuring a small ball of light between them once he had shaken them back to life. "What's wood made of?" he asked aloud.

"Mostly cellulose," Nebula answered without looking at him.

"Oh." Peter wasn't sure how to make that. He wasn't even really sure what it was. A third grade education and a lifetime of street smarts still left many holes in his knowledge. "What about metal? Something hard?"

"Do you know how to make metal yet?"

"No... just rock, mostly crystal, and water..."

"Diamonds are a type of crystalline stone," she murmured.

"That can work!" Peter exclaimed. It was worth a shot, anyways. While he began the slow process of gathering the Light he asked Nebula, "You don't happen to know anything else about these Cosmic Beings, do you?" She always seemed to have a surprising amount of information about all sorts of things.

Nebula was resting her head on her arms which were balanced on her knees as she watched him from the corner of her eye. "Not much that Ego didn't already cover. I told you, I never actually read that chapter. Most of what I know is lore and legend, and there is no way to sort the truth from exaggeration and poor translations."

Peter pulled at the Light in his hands, stretching it experimentally. "How long are staffs?"

"They vary, depending on the use and handler." When Peter just stared at her helplessly she continued. "At least the length of both your arms."

It took several tries to figure out how to shape the Light into a long cylinder. Eventually he tried using Ego's trick of dividing the Light into portions and building the staff from the middle out. It worked well enough. His first staff was uninspired; A dull, foggy, off-white color, with a rough texture that was unpleasant to the touch. It was heavy, though, and felt solid in his hands.

"What do you think?" He handed it over for Nebula to inspect. She took one look at it and swung it against the stairs where it shattered into pieces.

"It needs to be stronger," she supplied, dropping the last piece and letting it clatter down the stairs. "This is hardly better than basic glass."

Drax snapped the next one in half with his bare hands, and they took turns testing his creations after that. Testing might have been too kind a word. Demolishing was closer to what was going on, and around his seventh or eight failed staff, Peter was growing increasingly aware of the pile of shards building up around him.

While he worked, they spoke. Nebula shared a few old legends about the Gods of Creation and Destruction, and even Drax chimed in with a story about a version of the God of Death named 'Hela' that he had heard of on Sakaar. It was actually fairly pleasant, and Peter was almost sad when Gamora called a break and Mantis suggested they all head back to the greenhouse dining room for an early lunch.

Gamora had been taking their lesson surprisingly slow and easy. They hadn't even crossed staffs yet, Gamora was just using Groot's gift to demonstrate several poses and movements. By now when he and his Gamora first started training together she had already given him several new bruises and thrown him to the ground an embarrassing amount of times. Even with Gamora's easy pace, Mantis was obviously tired from the work. Despite her protests, the others insisted on setting out the plates and getting their own food from the storage rooms.

"Don't worry about it," Peter said as clapped his hand on her shoulder and guided her into a chair. "We know where it all is by now. You're part of the team, not a servant. You rest, I'll get us both some food."

Peter was rewarded with a soft, grateful smile, and Mantis allowed herself to relax. Once he was sure she wasn't going to spring back up, he left to go gather their plates.

While he ate, Peter was distracted still by his attempts to form something hard enough to not snap after one blow.

"Try this!" Peter gasped, leaning over the table to shove his latest attempt at Nebula who snatched it from his hands before it could land in her food.

Peter held his breath while she sat back to give it an appraising look and couple of swirls. When she slapped it against the stone floor it didn't crack, and a fine ringing filled the room. "It's better, but it's too heavy."

Peter's shoulder's slumped. "I don't know how to make it any lighter."

"You probably can't without sacrificing its integrity," Nebula mused, still rolling the glimmering staff back and forth in her hand. It was just a few shades away from completely clear, and it caught the light and threw it around in dazzling rainbows. "How about this?" She waved her left hand across her cheek and a holographic display winked into life from the cybernetics around her left eye, hovering in the space before her.

"Whoah!" Nebula flinched back in her chair when Peter leapt to his feet to lean over the table. "I didn't know you could do that!"

He lifted one hand towards the display and she swatted him away with a vicious strike of the heavy staff. "Knock it off!"

Peter pulled his hand back, shaking it and wincing against the ringing in his bones. "Ouch, geeze, sorry. No touching. I promise."

She just gave him a very unamused look before continuing. "Instead of making the whole thing of diamond, you can create a core and surround it with a lighter, more flexible material to balance out the weight." In the light blue display in front of her, a long thin line of crystal formed. A moment later, a series of twisting vines wrapped around it to form into a sort of shell and give it the look of a more usual staff.

"Will that still be strong enough?" Peter asked, rubbing his stinging wrist and resisting the urge to poke at the holographic display of the layered staff.

"I wouldn't take it into battle." Nebula dissolved the display with a flick of her wrist. "But it should be fine for practice. At the rate Gamora's going, Mantis won't be striking anything but air anytime soon." Nebula shot a meaningful look her sister's way which Gamora returned with a wrinkling of her brows.

Peter finished off his plate and returned to his self-imposed project as the rest of the Guardians finished eating and cleared away the table. The Light was growing easier to manipulate, and his next creation was done before the last dish was taken away. Groot was happy to cover the core with a tight net of branches, and Gamora accepted the finished project graciously on their way back to the makeshift training grounds. Despite Gamora's warnings that she would be sore the next day, Mantis insisted on continuing to learn.

"I very much wish to be useful!" she had exclaimed, clutching her emerald staff against her chest. "And I am having fun learning something so different. I've never done anything like this before."

This seemed to win over Gamora who began showing her some blocks and self defense moves against another staff. The soft clacking of their staffs colliding in slow-motion strikes filled the quiet air as the rest of the Guardians settled back down as well.

Peter found a new seat among the steps, away from the shards that still cascaded down from his earlier seat, and pondered over what other sorts of useful things he could create. The sense of accomplishment at seeing his staff hard at work below and Gamora's reminder of his limited time overrode his earlier relief at getting the afternoon off, so he set to work shaping a bowl -ugly and a foamy off-white, but a respectable size and serviceable- and filling it with water. When that grew too tedious and boring he decided to try his luck at another element. The result was an immediate and spectacular failure, and Nebula had to throw the contents of the bowl he had filled earlier onto his hands where the bandages had caught fire while Drax pinned him down.

"Idiot!" she grumbled as she unwound the soggy and half-burnt bandages from his hands.

Peter hung his head and offered no complaint as he stood on the wet steps and held his hands out for her.

"What were you planning to do?" Drax asked, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at Peter.

"I can make rock and water, I thought if I could get a head start on the next element or whatever, the next session with Ego would go a bit faster. I mean, who even knows how long he'll be pouting over this Eternity thing? And I'm on a bit of a time crunch."

Nebula gave a snort at that as she finished working his left hand free, dropping the bandages to lay in a crumpled heap at her feet. "What are you planning to do about this Eternity and his interest in you?" Her eyes were trained down as she spoke, carefully looking over the healing cuts on his palm. He tried not to wince as she prodded at one.

"I don't know."

"I don't think this one needs to be re-wrapped. It's healing just fine, and you can take it easy here." She released his right hand which had been flayed open by the blaster and began unwrapping the left. "If he's as powerful as Ego claims, then he might be very useful against my father."

"He's definitely powerful, but he said there were rules against him messing with reality, which is why he wanted my help in the first place, so how useful can he be?"

"He could have answers we don't have," Nebula said practically. "And I'm sure he's more capable than he's letting on."

"That's another thing," Peter muttered. "Eternity said that one of his sisters was helping Thanos." Nebula's dark eyes flickered up to meet his before returning to Peter's hand.

"Death?"

"He didn't actually say, but probably a safe assumption."

Nebula grunted something like an agreement as she removed the brace from his fingers. "Go like this," she ordered, holding one palm up to flex her fingers into a fist and back out again. Peter did as ordered, moving his fingers slowly and wincing at the strange feeling in his muscles which had gone unused for so long. "The Nova Corps did a good job in speeding your recovery along, but this break was clearly much worse than the first. It would be better to keep it braced while you're playing around with the Light." The metal of her enhancement was surprisingly warm against his skin as she held his wrist in one hand and carefully tested the range of motion in his finger with the other. "Let it dry off and breath for now, and ask Mantis if she has any clean medical supplies later."

"Sure thing, doc," Peter said with a mock salute when she released his hand.

A dark look of warning flickered across Nebula's face. "Don't call me that," she growled, low and angry.

"I won't." The memory from his time in Gamora's mind of the body surrounded by surgeons, and the horrid screaming that had chased him through the hallways even as he pressed his hands over his ears, resurfaced in his mind and he hastily apologized. "I'm sorry."

"If you go back to sleep, perhaps you can speak with this Eternity again and demand more answers." Drax stepped in quickly, cutting through the cloud of tension that had formed between them as effectively as he could drive a knife through an enemy.

"Maybe? I mean, he said that he had a connection and could talk to me now? Which is good, because he wasn't making any sense before, and I'm really tired of those stupid nightmares keeping me up. I can find out tonight, I guess."

"Not sooner?"

"I'm not that tired, and the Nova Corps should be calling soon."

"You do not have to be tired." Drax held one fist up. "I am sure I could render you unconscious without harming you."

Peter quickly took a couple steps back. "Dude!"

"No," Nebula said calmly, reaching out one hand to push Drax's fist down. "We still need him awake for the Nova call, and I'm sure Ego would see to it that were repercussions for us assaulting his son." She turned to Peter who had inched sideways so Nebula was more or less between himself and Drax. "Do you have to be unconscious, though? If the connection is stronger now, perhaps you could try calling him?"

Peter waved his arms helplessly. "I don't exactly know the extension for 'beyond the veil.'"

"You could try meditation," Gamora suggested. Peter glanced over his shoulder to find she and Mantis had stopped their training and climbed up the stairs to see what all the fuss was about.

At the sight of her sister, the last of Nebula's good mood vanished. Her face fell into a guarded frown and she shifted further away from the steps.

"I dunno..." Peter murmured. Gamora had taught him the basics of meditation before, and some of it came in handy sometimes when dealing with the worst of the Guardian's discord, but actually sitting down and meditating was... mind-numbing. She'd given up about a week in after he had fallen asleep on her and started snoring for the third time.

"It can't hurt," she reasoned.

"Aren't you busy not teaching Mantis how to fight?" Nebula snapped, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Gamora gave her sister a look that was somehow equal parts annoyed and hurt. "I am sure Mantis could use another break by now," she said, her lips twitching when Nebula rolled her eyes. "I was going to teach her the basics anyways, if any of you care to join us?"

Peter glanced at Nebula who stared back at him expectantly for a moment before dropping her arms down. "Just go," she growled with a wave at her sister before turning away. "I've wasted enough time here. I'm going to go check on the rodent's progress and search for the caves again."

Gamora took a hasty step after her sister's retreating form, but hesitated.

"Nebula, wait-" Peter began, but Drax stalled him with a wave.

"I will go with her," Drax said, giving his arms a stretch and rolling his shoulders until they popped. "I do not care for meditation anyways, but you should stay here. It would be a better use of your time if you could get some answers from this Eternity."

Drax turned and jogged to catch up with Nebula, leaving Peter and Gamora staring after them silently. At his side, Gamora drew a long breath and let it out, and when he looked, her carefully neutral face was traced around the edges with just a hint of sadness.

-x-

Meditation practice was just as boring as Peter remembered it being. On the Milano, at least, he had been allowed to sit on his mattress or a pillow. Here, he sat cross legged on the stone court between Mantis and Groot, who had decided to join them. It was made extra difficult with the ceaseless itching of his palms which were exposed to the fresh air for the first time in days, making it impossible to quiet his mind. He was pretty sure at least an hour had passed before he gave up and had to stand to stretch his legs.

"Peter?" Gamora cracked one eye open to stare at him.

"Sorry, sorry," he sighed, dropping back to the ground. "You tried to teach this to me back in my universe too, but I'm just not the meditating type."

"Not if you keep fidgeting," she said, closing her eye and returning to her meditative pose. "You need to relax. Separate your mind from your body."

"Yeah, the only part of me that got that message is my butt." Peter rubbed at his back as he spoke. "It's completely numb."

Mantis let out a giggle beside him which was quickly stifled when Gamora opened her eye once more.

Gamora let out a sigh and stood in one fluid movement that defied the stiffness she should have felt after so long unmoving. "We should take a break for now, anyways," she said, looking at something over Peter's shoulder. He followed her gaze back to find Ego approaching from the pathway he'd vanished down earlier.

When Ego saw Peter looking he gave a wave and diverted his path towards the main building.

Peter gave another long languid stretch before following after. Mantis and Groot rose as well and they all made their way as a group into the open hall where Ego was waiting for them under a large video screen. Today it was Marlowe on the other end of the call.

"Good evening, Peter," she greeted when she caught sight of him.

"Hey Marlowe," Peter gave a wave and an easy smile. "It's actually more like a late lunch time here."

A spark of curiosity flickered across her face and her eyes sparkled like she wanted to ask more questions, but she collected herself and asked instead, "Where is the rest of your crew?"

"Exploring. It's a big planet."

"Have you seen them recently? Are they well?"

Peter quirked an eyebrow at the sudden concern. "Um, yeah, pretty recently. Why are-?"

"And you are well? Nothing has occurred that would break the terms of our agreement?" As she spoke there was an edge to her voice and her gaze flickered in the direction Ego was standing off to the side.

"I'm fine. What's with the questions, did something happen?"

"Cosmo sensed a... well, a disturbance was the best he could describe it to us. He sensed some sort of change in your Light, like it was eclipsed by something else. We were prepared to take more immediate action, but he assured us that he felt no danger to you and requested we wait. So, will you tell us what occurred this- well it would have been this morning, I suppose, for you?"

Peter hadn't even thought of what Cosmo might have sensed. "Yeah, I'm fine. We're all fine. I just met a uh, well I don't know what he was, really, some sort of 'Cosmic being?" He paused to throw a glance at Ego who stepped closer to address the Nova Prime's assistant.

"We were greeted rather unexpectedly by Eternity. It seems he has some sort of mistaken interest in my son, but there is no cause for alarm. We are dealing with it."

Marlowe narrowed her eyes and gave Peter a prompting look.

"It's true," Peter confirmed. "If you ask Cosmo, he might be able to explain it better, but I don't think anyone's in any danger." At least, he hoped not. Eternity might even prove to be useful, but Peter didn't dare voice that hope in front of Ego who was clearly still quite upset over his appearance. "How are things going up there? Have you made any progress finding Gamora's parents?"

Marlowe pursed her lips at his rather transparent change in subject. "Things are settling down. A couple of the members of the Council are still furious, but most of them are in agreement it was the best decision, the rest will come around. As for your request... Dey and I have been looking into our old records in search of known prison planets under Thanos's rule, but our resources are limited, and so far nothing has been very promising. Most of the ones we have records of have been since abandoned or relocated, or are so deep into enemy territory we are unable to find any reliable sources for them."

Peter glanced at Gamora who was standing at his side. Her face was carefully blank again and gave nothing away, but he was sure she was disappointed by the news.

"Do you have any memories," Marlowe asked, "that might help us narrow down our search? Any atmospheric anomalies, unique flora, the color of the sky? Anything at all?"

"Dark..." Gamora said, a wrinkle forming above her brow. "All I remember, under the false memories, is that it was really dark the last time I saw them, but I think we were inside a building. Maybe the smell of dirt. I'm sorry. Everything around the memories involving them gets... especially blurry."

Marlowe sat back with a subtle slump of her shoulders. "It's okay. We'll keep looking, but without anything more definitive to go on we're just firing into the dark here."

-x-

After the call ended Ego was quick to vanish again, apparently having completely lost interest in schooling Peter for the day. Peter was caught between being relieved at getting some time away from him and frustrated that he wasn't there to answer questions and provide help while he was learning to use the Light.

Gamora, Groot, and Mantis returned to their meditation while Peter returned to fiddling with the Light, but with Nebula and Drax still not returned and the rest of his crew busy doing nothing, that quickly grew boring as well.

"I'm going to take a walk," he announced.

Gamora gave him a brief nod but made no other indication she had heard him.

It was nice she was finally talking to him, but the businesslike politeness she was treating him with was a little disheartening. He couldn't really blame her after everything that had gone wrong for her lately; her shattered mind, her missing parents, and the obvious unpleasant feelings between her and her sister... Maybe later he could catch her alone and try to cheer her up. Right now she was busy, and not interrupting her meditation for his 'shenanigans' was a lesson he had learned the hard way back home.

Peter pulled out his Walkman, popped on the headphones and struck out down a pathway he'd never been down before which lead in the general direction Nebula and Drax had wandered off in. The path wound a scenic route around the canyon's edge for a ways and Peter found himself wanting to find a way across to the other side himself. The edge was tall and steep, but this was just the sort of thing the rockets on his boots were good for. The rush of the jump off the cliff's edge and free fall was enough to get him grinning again and he couldn't help the dance in his steps as he cut through the thick forest below towards where he thought Ego's ship was docked and Rocket would be.

As he meandered through the strangely clean and quiet forest he began toying with the prospect of making fire again. He kept the Light to small bundles this time, hoping to avoid a repeat of the earlier disaster.

The sun crept low across the sky. It was still a ways off from setting, but the canyon was cast in shadow and Peter had achieved something almost like flame, maybe closer to lightning, when a voice spoke up.

"If you're going to ignore my advice and keep doing that without a brace, at least go do it by the river so you don't burn the whole forest down." Nebula was stepping out from the trees off to his side, looking much more relaxed than she had been when she'd stormed off earlier.

"I'm being careful," he informed her, holding up his hands to show her the rippling ball of colorful light in his palms.

She made a face at his creation, clearly unimpressed. "What are you doing down here? Did you manage to contact Eternity?"

"No." Peter slumped his shoulders and let the ball of light flicker out of existence. "Where's Drax?"

"He wanted to return before dinner. Don't change the subject. Did you even try, or have you been wandering around trying to start forest fires since I left?"

"I tried!" Peter said defensively, a feint crack in his voice which he quickly tried to cover up. "For a while. It wasn't working, so I figured this would be more productive..."

"But why are you down here?"

"I was hoping I could run into Rocket. It's been two days now -Two and a half- and we haven't seen him." Nebula quirked a brow and he amended; "Well, I haven't."

"And you won't unless he wants you to. He'll hear your stomping clicks away and be long gone before you get there. Go back to the court and keep trying to find a way to contact this entity of yours."

Peter let out a low groan and flopped down onto a nearby rock. "It's so booooring," he heaved. "I was trying for at least an hour, but nothing was happening. No stars, no voices, no creepy feeling of being watched or sound of digging or any of the other usual stuff that comes with him. Just the cold hard stone making my back hurt and my butt go numb."

A look crossed Nebula's face. "Stars...?" she murmured to herself, bringing one hand up towards her face and getting that faraway look again. "And digging... Have you tried using the Light while you meditate?"

"What? Isn't that, like, counter productive?"

"You said that the last time you saw Eternity-the clearest time- was after Ego did something that was supposed to amplify your connection to the Light. And Eternity himself told you that his ability to communicate with you was dependent on the strength of that connection. He also said that he wasn't allowed to interact with this plane of existence..."

"Yeeeees?" Peter said slowly, wishing he could understand her better when she started talking like this. She was as bad as Rocket talking tech sometimes.

Nebula rolled her eyes at his confusion. "He can't enter this plane of existence," she repeated slowly, "so he needs you to step outside of it. If the Light is one of these alternate planes of existence which a Celestial has access to, then maybe you can use it to bridge the gap. Meet him half-way."

"Oh. Oh! I think I get it!" Peter leaped back to his feet, grinning. "Yeah, that could be worth a shot. Come on!" he said, waving her after himself as he jogged back the way he had come.

"Now where are you going?" Her face was screwed up in suspicion, but she followed after him, if somewhat reluctantly.

"To give it a try. There's a nice spot just back here. Not far." He'd passed a small creek a couple minutes back, with a bank that was carpeted in a plush moss. The moss was slick in some places, and he'd slipped and nearly face-planted into the creek climbing over it. If he was going to be stuck sitting on the forest floor, however, he'd rather do it there than in the hard dirt.

The creek side was just as he remembered it, and he quickly found himself a place where the moss had grown over a somewhat flat rock near a broad pool. It was high enough above the water to be not too damp. Nebula paused to lean against a nearby tree and watched silently as he settled into the familiar pose Gamora had taught him and began breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. It took a while to calm his racing heart and longer still to learn how to reach out toward the Light instead of drawing it towards him. The air was growing steadily chillier when he thought he finally felt something familiar. A spark of excitement distracted him and the tenuous connection snapped.

"Uuuuugh!" Peter let out a long groan and dropped his head. "I don't think this working either."

"No. Keep trying."

Peter glanced up to see Nebula was staring at him with a strange intensity flickering in her eyes.

"I think it was working. Try again."

"Okay," he said after a pause, straightening back up and reaching out again for the Light. This time when he brushed up against the Light, it felt like something was reaching back for him. The sensation almost reminded him of when he'd been swept away in Cosmo's connection to Gamora, but this time when the Light flooded into his veins and swept him up it was less intense.

"What a clever little mortal," a voice rumbled through the silence and Peter's eyes flew open to find the evening forest around him had melted away, replaced with an open sky filled with vibrant galaxies. The small patch of stream bank he sat on drifted through the empty space. When he glanced down at the stream burbling at his side, the water was filled with shards of light and glowed with a strange warmth.

Nebula was still leaning against the tree across from where he sat cross-legged on the mossy stone, the only tree remaining in this new place, but when he looked up to ask her if she could see all of this as well, he realized it wasn't Nebula after all.

"Eternity?" Peter asked.

The blacks of Nebula's eyes were nearly overflowing with their own universe of stars as she watched him curiously. "Hello again, Peter."

"It worked," he breathed, a smile splitting on his face.

Nebula's head tilted as her lips curled in amusement. "Yes," Eternity drawled, "It did. Now why don't we finally have a real talk? Just you and me?"

End

#gotg #Guardians of the Galaxy #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #gotg astronautical #Luciferous #Book 2 chapter 13 #Peter Quill #Ego the living planet #Nebula #Gamora #Drax #Groot #Mantis #Eternity