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hockeysweetheart · 4 years

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Okay So This will Be The kisses ( and Talking about it) With Peeta iOkay I’ll add the Grand total of Kisses here.....

17 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in the Hunger Games

9 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in Catching Fire

3 In Mockingjay ( and Some)

And I am gonna be super petty Here How many times Did she kiss Gale 5 ONLY 5 TIMES. ( I had to give him credit with the Kissing her on the cheek)

Here is a sort form of the Kisses.

The Hunger Games

1. on the cheek when Katniss said two can play at this game

( These next ones are in the Cave or the Games)

2. The second Kiss was to shut him up from saying I’m gonna die ( Yes the famous one Haymitch is like come on give me something to work with here)

3. The third one was in the cave waking Peeta up

4. The fourth one Katniss said it took a lot Including Kissing to get Peeta to Finish the Broth ( So guessing more then one Kiss in here but I’ll count only one)

5. Peeta Kissed Katniss’s hand. And Katniss is like No more kisses until you eat.

6. So Katniss just Drugged Peeta and Says I wonder how Gale is taking these kisses 2 Seconds later she Kisses Peeta goodbye . In case she doesn’t return.

7. Katniss just wants the Games to End and they Share a kiss.

8 The Kiss This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another.

9. This Kiss Happened After the one that made her wanting more.

10. This Kiss counts because yes their lips did touch. But its right after Peeta tells the story of him being in love with her forever since Kindergarten then that Kiss is ruined by the food arriving.

11. Katniss is thinking about Gale and kinda moves around in the freaking Sleeping Bag and wakes up Peeta which resolves in a long kiss.

12. They Kiss again before leaving the cave to go hunt for Food.

13. Katniss is kinda being mean to Peeta kinda throwing the Romance out the window but then Realizes this Kisses Peeta and is like okay we can do what you want

14. So this one Katniss kisses Peeta on the forhead because she is happy that she doesn’t have to face Cato Alone

15. This one is when they Both said listen if we both Can’t win we both will die so Peeta gave Katniss a slow kiss.

16. This Kiss Happened After the games when they reunite again at the rewatch of the games

17. During the Final interveiw they share a kiss.

Catching Fire

1. Their First Kiss is for the Cameras. and Peeta is like I almost thought that kiss was real

2. They kiss again After Peeta says he will give half of his winnings to District 11 fallen tributes

3. They kiss a lot on the victory tour.

4. After Katniss comes Back to her House after being in the woods when they are really forbidden. She comes back to peacekeepers in her house and with no proof she was in the woods shes safe but she is injured. And they Share a kiss in front of Everyone when she is making up this lie.

5.Before the Games Peeta gives Katniss a kiss ( After they spent the night together and says see you soon)

6. After Peeta is rescued by Finnick He gives Katniss a kiss we got allies

7. The Beach scene kiss ( We all know that one)

8. Peeta Kisses Katniss after he said your gonna be a great mother

9. The I’ll see you at midnight kiss. The last sane kiss of Peeta before hes taken in by the freaking Capitol

Mockingjay ( Since Peeta And Katniss are A part for half the book and Peeta is trying to kill Katniss they don’t have as many kisses).

1. This one I had to add becuase well yeah, When shes rubbing her lips on the pearl it’s like a cool kiss from the giver himself

2. This kiss was when Peeta was going mad and then Katniss just kissed him thinking that might work which it did because she didn’t want to loose him again

3. The growing back together kiss ( and some)

A Grand total of 29 Kisses in the books Series by these two

Now Bonus ones

1. Catching Fire After Peeta’s heart was restarted Katniss Kissed him this was not in the books.

so grand total is 30 kisses on all platforms the books and the movies.

So since Below is so Long I was feeling real petty and Decited to add Gales Kisses in here too

1. The surprise Kiss From Gale That snow knew about

2. The Kiss after Gale got whipped and hes Basically sleeping

3. They kiss in Mockingjay when Gale is like you kissed me here I’d have to be dead to forget that

4. This Kiss Peeta is saved yet Hijacked and Basically Katniss has written off and They Kiss and then Gale Ruins it

5. After Leaving the awkward dinner Gale Kisses Katniss on the Cheek

Bonus ones

Catching Fire Movie when they Kiss goodbye when Katniss is going back into the arena,

So their grand total is 6...

In the Hunger Games ( Book)

Chapter 5 But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.

Chapter 19,

"Yes. Look, if I don't make it back - " he begins. "Don't talk like that. I didn't drain all that pus for nothing," I say. "I know. But just in case I don't - " he tries to continue. "No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it," I say, placing my fingers on his lips to quiet him. "But I - " he insists. Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his words. This is probably overdue anyway since he's right, we are supposed to be madly in love. It's the first time I've ever kissed a boy, which should make some sort of impression I guess, but all I can register is how unnaturally hot his lips are from the fever. I break away and pull the edge of the sleeping bag up around him. "You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?" "All right," he whispers.

A little Later on Chapter 19

Haymitch couldn't be sending me a clearer message. One kiss equals one pot of broth. I can almost hear his snarl. "You're supposed to be in love, sweetheart. The boy's dying. Give me something I can work with!" And he's right. If I want to keep Peeta alive, I've got to give the audience something more to care about. Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance. Never having been in love, this is going to be a real trick. I think of my parents. The way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods. The way my mother's face would light up at the sound of his boots at the door. The way she almost stopped living when he died. "Peeta!" I say, trying for the special tone that my mother used only with my father. He's dozed off again, but I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he'd be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. He's great at this stuff.

Chapter 20.

Getting the broth into Peeta takes an hour of coaxing, begging, threatening, and yes, kissing, but finally, sip by sip, he empties the pot. I let him drift off to sleep then and attend to my own needs, wolfing down a supper of groosling and roots while I watch the daily report in the sky. No new casualties. Still, Peeta and I have given the audience a fairly interesting day. Hopefully, the Gamemakers will allow us a peaceful night.

Oh, right, the whole romance thing. I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. Surely not from his father and the witch. ( Okay) Just in case why This part is isn here He Kissed her hand, “No more kisses for you until you’ve eaten,” I say.

Chapter 21 ( Because I am being petty I added an extra bit)

And Gale. I know him. He won’t be shouting and cheering. But he’ll be watching, every moment, every twist and turn, and willing me to come home. I wonder if he’s hoping that Peeta makes it as well. Gale’s not my boyfriend, but would he be, if I opened that door? He talked about us running away together. Was that just a practical calculation of our chances of survival away from the district? Or something more? I wonder what he makes of all this kissing. Through a crack in the rocks, I watch the moon cross the sky. At what I judge to be about three hours before dawn, I begin final preparations. I’m careful to leave Peeta with water and the medical kit right beside him. Nothing else will be of much use if I don’t return, and even these would only prolong his life a short time. After some debate, I strip him of his jacket and zip it on over my own. He doesn’t need it. Not now in the sleeping bag with his fever, and during the day, if I’m not there to remove it, he’ll be roasting in it. My hands are already stiff from cold, so I take Rue’s spare pair of socks, cut holes for my fingers and thumbs, and pull them on. It helps anyway. I fill her small pack with some food, a water bottle, and bandages, tuck the knife in my belt, get my bow and arrows. I’m about to leave when I remember the importance of sustaining the star-crossed lover routine and I lean over and give Peeta a long, lingering kiss. I imagine the teary sighs emanating from the Capitol and pretend to brush away a tear of my own. Then I squeeze through the opening in the rocks out into the night.

Chapter 22

I give him another answer, because it is equally true but can be taken as a brief moment of weakness instead of a terminal one. "I want to go home, Peeta," I say plaintively, like a small child. "You will. I promise," he says, and bends over to give me a kiss.

Chapter 22 ( The Kiss)

I fumble. I’m not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread. “If what, Katniss?” he says softly. I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s no one’s business but mine. “Then I’ll just have to fill in the blanks myself,” he says, and moves in to me. This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. But I don’t get it. Well, I do get a second kiss, but it’s just a light one on the tip of my nose because Peeta’s been distracted. “I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.

Chapter 22 ( Okay I had too add in this whole freaking part in)

"Peeta," I say lightly. "You said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?" "Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair. it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up," Peeta says. "Your father? Why?" I ask. "He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,'" Peeta says. "What? You're making that up!" I exclaim. "No, true story," Peeta says. "And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings. even the birds stop to listen.'" "That's true. They do. I mean, they did," I say. I'm stunned and surprisingly moved, thinking of the baker telling this to Peeta. It strikes me that my own reluctance to sing, my own dismissal of music might not really be that I think it's a waste of time. It might be because it reminds me too much of my father. "So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent," Peeta says. "Oh, please," I say, laughing. "No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew - just like your mother - I was a goner," Peeta says. "Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you." "Without success," I add. "Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck," says Peeta. For a moment, I'm almost foolishly happy and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love not actually being in love. But Peeta's story has a ring of truth to it. That part about my father and the birds. And I did sing the first day of school, although I don't remember the song. And that red plaid dress. there was one, a hand-me-down to Prim that got washed to rags after my father's death. It would explain another thing, too. Why Peeta took a beating to give me the bread on that awful hollow day. So, if those details are true. could it all be true? "You have a. remarkable memory," I say haltingly. "I remember everything about you," says Peeta, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention." "I am now," I say. "Well, I don't have much competition here," he says. I want to draw away, to close those shutters again, but I know I can't. It's as if I can hear Haymitch whispering in my ear, "Say it! Say it!" I swallow hard and get the words out. "You don't have much competition anywhere." And this time, it's me who leans in. Our lips have just barely touched when the clunk outside makes us jump. My bow comes up, the arrow ready to fly, but there's no other sound. Peeta peers through the rocks and then gives a whoop. Before I can stop him, lie's out in the rain, then handing something in to me. A silver parachute attached to a basket. I rip it open at once and inside there's a feast - fresh rolls, goat cheese, apples, and best of all, a tureen of that incredible lamb stew on wild rice. The very dish I told Caesar Flickerman was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to offer.

Chapter 23

The sun eventually rises, its light slipping through the cracks and illuminating Peeta’s face. Who will he transform into if we make it home? This perplexing, good-natured boy who can spin out lies so convincingly the whole of Panem believes him to be hopelessly in love with me, and I’ll admit it, there are moments when he makes me believe it myself? At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. Anything beyond that though. and I feel Gale’s gray eyes watching me watching Peeta, all the way from District 12. Discomfort causes me to move. I scoot over and shake Peeta’s shoulder. His eyes open sleepily and when they focus on me, he pulls me down for a long kiss.

“We’re wasting hunting time,” I say when I finally break away. “I wouldn’t call it wasting,” he says giving a big stretch as he sits up. “So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?”

He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. “Come on,” I say in exasperation, extricating myself from his grasp but not before he gets in another kiss

Chapter 24

By the time we reach our destination, our feet are dragging and the sun sits low on the horizon. We fill up our water bottles and climb the little slope to our den. It’s not much, but out here in the wilderness, it’s the closest thing we have to a home. It will be warmer than a tree, too, because it provides some shelter from the wind that has begun to blow steadily in from the west. I set a good dinner out, but halfway through Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so grateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought. So glad that I don’t have to face Cato alone.

Chapter 26.

My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt, freeing it. Peeta sees it and his hand clamps on my wrist. "No, I won't let you." "Trust me," I whisper. He holds my gaze for a long moment then lets me go. I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm. Then I fill my own. "On the count of three?" Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. "The count of three," he says.

Chapter 27

Blinding lights. The deafening roar rattles the metal under my feet. Then there’s Peeta just a few yards away. He looks so clean and healthy and beautiful, I can hardly recognize him. But his smile is the same whether in mud or in the Capitol and when I see it, I take about three steps and fling myself into his arms. He staggers back, almost losing his balance, and that’s when I realize the slim, metal contraption in his hand is some kind of cane. He rights himself and we just cling to each other while the audience goes insane. He’s kissing me and all the time I’m thinking, Do you know? Do you know how much danger we’re in? After about ten minutes of this, Caesar Flickerman taps on his shoulder to continue the show, and Peeta just pushes him aside without even glancing at him. The audience goes berserk. Whether he knows or not, Peeta is, as usual, playing the crowd exactly right

Finally, Haymitch interrupts us and gives us a good-natured shove toward the victor’s chair. Usually, this is a single, ornate chair from which the winning tribute watches a film of the highlights of the Games, but since there are two of us, the Gamemakers have provided a plush red velvet couch. A small one, my mother would call it a love seat, I think. I sit so close to Peeta that I’m practically on his lap, but one look from Haymitch tells me it isn’t enough. Kicking off my sandals, I tuck my feet to the side and lean my head against Peeta’s shoulder. His arm goes around me automatically, and I feel like I’m back in the cave, curled up against him, trying to keep warm. His shirt is made of the same yellow material as my dress, but Portia’s put him in long black pants. No sandals, either, but a pair of sturdy black boots he keeps solidly planted on the stage. I wish Cinna had given me a similar outfit, I feel so vulnerable in this flimsy dress. But I guess that was the point.

Chapter 27.

Things pick up for me once they’ve announced two tributes from the same district can live and I shout out Peeta’s name and then clap my hands over my mouth. If I’ve seemed indifferent to him earlier, I make up for it now, by finding him, nursing him back to health, going to the feast for the medicine, and being very free with my kisses. Objectively, I can see the mutts and Cato’s death are as gruesome as ever, but again, I feel it happens to people I have never met. And then comes the moment with the berries. I can hear the audience hushing one another, not wanting to miss anything. A wave of gratitude to the filmmakers sweeps over me when they end not with the announcement of our victory, but with me pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft, screaming Peeta’s name as they try to revive him. In terms of survival, it’s my best moment all night.

Behind a cameraman, I see Haymitch give a sort of huff with relief and I know I’ve said the right thing. Caesar pulls out a handkerchief and has to take a moment because he’s so moved. I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, “So now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?”

I turn in to him. “Put you somewhere you can’t get hurt.” And when he kisses me, people in the room actually sigh.

Chapter 27 ( Peeta finds out the truth) ( Okay No Kisses in this part but This part honestly Just says so much)

When the train makes a brief stop for fuel, we’re allowed to go outside for some fresh air. There’s no longer any need to guard us. Peeta and I walk down along the track, hand in hand, and I can’t find anything to say now that we’re alone. He stops to gather a bunch of wildflowers for me. When he presents them, I work hard to look pleased. Because he can’t know that the pink-and-white flowers are the tops of wild onions and only remind me of the hours I’ve spent gathering them with Gale.

Haymitch startles me when he lays a hand on my back. Even now, in the middle of nowhere, he keeps his voice down. “Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay.” I watch him head back to the train, avoiding Peeta’s eyes. “What’s he mean?” Peeta asks me. “It’s the Capitol. They didn’t like our stunt with the berries,” I blurt out. “What? What are you talking about?” he says. “It seemed too rebellious. So, Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn’t make it worse,” I say. “Coaching you? But not me,” says Peeta. “He knew you were smart enough to get it right,” I say. “I didn’t know there was anything to get right,” says Peeta. “So, what you’re saying is, these last few days and then I guess. back in the arena. that was just some strategy you two worked out.” “No. I mean, I couldn’t even talk to him in the arena, could I?” I stammer. “But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn’t you?” says Peeta. I bite my lip. “Katniss?” He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance. “It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.” “Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding onto my flowers. “Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?” he says. “I don’t know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get,” I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none’s forthcoming. “Well, let me know when you work it out,” he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable.

I know my ears are healed because, even with the rumble of the engine, I can hear every step he takes back to the train. By the time I’ve climbed aboard, Peeta has disappiared into his room for the night. I don’t see him the next morning, either. In fact, the next time he turns up, we’re pulling into District 12. He gives me a nod, his face expressionless. I want to tell him that he’s not being fair. That we were strangers. That I did what it took to stay alive, to keep us both alive in the arena. That I can’t explain how things are with Gale because I don’t know myself. That it’s no good loving me because I’m never going to get married anyway and he’d just end up hating me later instead of sooner. That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn’t matter because I’ll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children. And how can he? How can he after what we’ve just been through? I also want to tell him how much I already miss him. But that wouldn’t be fair on my part. So we just stand there silently, watching our grimy little station rise up around us. Through the window, I can see the platform’s thick with cameras. Everyone will be eagerly watching our homecoming. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. “One more time? For the audience?” he says. His voice isn’t angry. It’s hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

Catching fire

Chapter 3

My face breaks into a huge smile and I start walking in Peeta’s direction. Then, as if I can’t stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips - he still isn’t entirely in command of his artificial leg - and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that’s where we have our first kiss in months. It’s full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the cameras. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He’s still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way.

Chapter 4

Favourite colour

After a while I hear footsteps behind me. It’ll be Haymitch, coming to chew me out. It’s not like I don’t deserve it, but I still don’t want to hear it. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” I warn the clump of weeds by my shoes. “I’ll try to keep it brief.” Peeta takes a seat beside me. “I thought you were Haymitch,” I say. “No, he’s still working on that muffin.” I watch as Peeta positions his artificial leg. “Bad day, huh?” “It’s nothing,” I say. He takes a deep breath. “Look, Katniss, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn’t fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I’m sorry.” His apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Games was something of an act. But I don’t hold that against him. In the arena, I’d played that romance angle for all it was worth. There had been times when I didn’t honestly know how I felt about him. I still don’t, really. “I’m sorry, too,” I say. I’m not sure for what exactly. Maybe because there’s a real chance I’m about to destroy him. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don’t want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there’s a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends,” he says. All my friends are probably going to end up dead, but refusing Peeta wouldn’t keep him safe. “Okay,” I say. His offer does make me feel better. Less duplicitous somehow. It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. “So what’s wrong?” he asks. I can’t tell him. I pick at the clump of weeds. “Let’s start with something more basic. Isn’t it strange that I know you’d risk your life to save mine … but I don’t know what your favorite color is?” he says. A smile creeps onto my lips. “Green. What’s yours?” “Orange,” he says. “Orange? Like Effie’s hair?” I say. “A bit more muted,” he says. “More like … sunset.” Sunset. I can see it immediately, the rim of the descending sun, the sky streaked with soft shades of orange. Beautiful. I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. “You know, everyone’s always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven’t seen them,” I say. “Well, I’ve got a whole train car full.” He rises and offers me his hand. “Come on.” It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand.

Chapter 4

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift … it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all.

Chapter 5

We descend the steps and are sucked into what becomes an indistinguishable round of dinners, ceremonies, and train rides. Each day it’s the same. Wake up. Get dressed. Ride through cheering crowds. Listen to a speech in our honor. Give a thank-you speech in return, but only the one the Capitol gave us, never any personal additions now. Sometimes a brief tour: a glimpse of the sea in one district, towering forests in another, ugly factories, fields of wheat, stinking refineries. Dress in evening clothes. Attend dinner. Train. During ceremonies, we are solemn and respectful but always linked together, by our hands, our arms. At dinners, we are borderline delirious in our love for each other. We kiss, we dance, we get caught trying to sneak away to be alone. On the train, we are quietly miserable as we try to assess what effect we might be having.

Cinna begins to take in my clothes around the waist. The prep team frets over the circles under my eyes. Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment. Nothing else happens, but our arrangement quickly becomes a subject of gossip on the train.

Chapter 6 On the way home

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. I turn, being careful not to disturb him, but he’s already awake. “No nightmares,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. “I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” “Well, you slept like you were happy,” he says. “Peeta, how come I never know when you’re having a nightmare?” I say. “I don’t know. I don’t think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,” he says. “You should wake me,” I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down. “It’s not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he says. “I’m okay once I realize you’re here.”

Ugh. Peeta makes comments like this in such an offhand way, and it’s like being hit in the gut. He’s only answering my question honestly. He’s not pressing me to reply in kind, to make any declaration of love. But I still feel awful, as if I’ve been using him in some terrible way. Have I? I don’t know. I only know that for the first time, I feel immoral about him being here in my bed. Which is ironic since we’re officially engaged now. “Be worse when we’re home and I’m sleeping alone again,” he says. That’s right, we’re almost home.

Chapter 9 I am being petty yes for this Part...

“I’ve heard worse,” she says . “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. The words numb my tongue as if it’s been packed in snow coat. Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don’t know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But I’m sure he doesn’t remember it. Does he? I hope not. If he does, everything will just get more complicated and I really can’t think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. “He went home when we heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. “Did he get back all right?” I ask. In a blizzard, you can get lost in a matter of yards and wander off course into oblivion. “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says.

Chaper 11 Katniss comes home to a surprise I freaking love this part

By the time I reach my house, my left heel will bear no weight at all. I decide to tell my mother I was trying to mend a leak in the roof of our old house and slid off. As for the missing food, I’ll just be vague about who I handed it out to. I drag myself in the door, all ready to collapse in front of the fire. But instead I get another shock. Two Peacekeepers, a man and a woman, are standing in the doorway to our kitchen. The woman remains impassive, but I catch the flicker of surprise on the man’s face. I am unanticipated. They know I was in the woods and should be trapped there now. “Hello,” I say in a neutral voice. My mother appears behind them, but keeps her distance. “Here she is, just in time for dinner,” she says a little too brightly. I’m very late for dinner. I consider removing my boots as I normally would but doubt I can manage it without revealing my injuries. Instead I just pull off my wet hood and shake the snow from my hair. “Can I help you with something?” I ask the Peacekeepers. “Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you,” says the woman. “They’ve been waiting for hours,” my mother adds. They’ve been waiting for me to fail to return. To confirm I got electrocuted by the fence or trapped in the woods so they could take my family in for questioning. “Must be an important message,” I say. “May we ask where you’ve been, Miss Everdeen?” the woman asks. “Easier to ask where I haven’t been,” I say with a sound of exasperation. I cross into the kitchen, forcing myself to use my foot normally even though every step is excruciating. I pass between the Peacekeepers and make it to the table all right. I fling my bag down and turn to Prim, who’s standing stiffly by the hearth. Haymitch and Peeta are there as well, sitting in a pair of matching rockers, playing a game of chess. Were they here by chance or “invited” by the Peacekeepers? Either way, I’m glad to see them. “So where haven’t you been?” says Haymitch in a bored voice. “Well, I haven’t been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim’s goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives,” I say to Prim emphatically. “No, I didn’t,” says Prim. “I told you exactly.” “You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine,” I say. “The east entrance,” Prim corrects me. “You distinctly said the west, because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap?’ and you said, 'Yeah,’” I say. “The slag heap next to the east entrance,” says Prim patiently. “No. When did you say that?” I demand. “Last night,” Haymitch chimes in. “It was definitely the east,” adds Peeta. He looks at Haymitch and they laugh. I glare at Peeta and he tries to look contrite. “I’m sorry, but it’s what I’ve been saying. You don’t listen when people talk to you.” “Bet people told you he didn’t live there today and you didn’t listen again,” says Haymitch. “Shut up, Haymitch,” I say, clearly indicating he’s right. Haymitch and Peeta crack up and Prim allows herself a smile. “Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up,” I say, which makes them laugh more. And I think, This is why they’ve made it this far, Haymitch and Peeta. Nothing throws them. I look at the Peacekeepers. The man’s smiling but the woman is unconvinced. “What’s in the bag?” she asks sharply.

I know she’s hoping for game or wild plants. Something that clearly condemns me. I dump the contents on the table. “See for yourself.”

“Oh, good,” says my mother, examining the cloth. “We’re running low on bandages.”

Peeta comes to the table and opens the candy bag. “Ooh, peppermints,” he says, popping one in his mouth.

“They’re mine.” I take a swipe for the bag. He tosses it to Haymitch, who stuffs a fistful of sweets in his mouth before passing the bag to a giggling Prim. “None of you deserves candy!” I say.

“What, because we’re right?” Peeta wraps his arms around me. I give a small yelp of pain as my tailbone objects. I try to turn it into a sound of indignation, but I can see in his eyes that he knows I’m hurt. “Okay, Prim said west. I distinctly heard west. And we’re all idiots. How’s that?”

“Better,” I say, and accept his kiss. Then I look at the Peacekeepers as if I’m suddenly remembering they’re there. “You have a message for me?”

“From Head Peacekeeper Thread,” says the woman. “He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District Twelve will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day.”

“Didn’t it already?” I ask, a little too innocently.

“He thought you might be interested in passing this information on to your cousin,” says the woman.

“Thank you. I’ll tell him. I’m sure we’ll all sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse.” I’m pushing things, I know it, but the comment gives me a sense of satisfaction.

The woman’s jaw tightens. None of this has gone as planned, but she has no further orders. She gives me a curt nod and leaves, the man trailing in her wake. When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.

Chapter 11 They all know Katniss is hurt and Peeta is literally the sweetest human out there

“What is it?” says Peeta, holding me steadily. “Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tail-bone’s had a bad day, too.” He helps me over to one of the rockers and I lower myself onto the padded cushion. My mother eases off my boots. “What happened?” “I slipped and fell,” I say. Four pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. “On some ice.” But we all know the house must be bugged and it’s not safe to talk openly. Not here, not now. Having stripped off my sock, my mother’s fingers probe the bones in my left heel and I wince. “There might be a break,” she says. She checks the other foot. “This one seems all right.” She judges my tailbone to be badly bruised. My mother gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there. A side effect of the sleep syrup is that it makes people less inhibited, like white liquor, and I know I have to control my tongue. But I don’t want him to go. In fact, I want him to climb in with me, to be there when the nightmares hit tonight. For some reason that I can’t quite form, I know I’m not allowed to ask that. “Don’t go yet. Not until I fall asleep,” I say. Peeta sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his. “Almost thought you’d changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner.” I’m foggy but I can guess what he means. With the fence going on and me showing up late and the Peacekeepers waiting, he thought I’d made a run for it, maybe with Gale. “No, I’d have told you,” I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today. I want to tell him about Twill and Bonnie and the uprising and the fantasy of District 13, but it’s not safe to and I can feel myself slipping away, so I just get out one more sentence. “Stay with me.” As the tendrils of sleep syrup pull me down, I hear him whisper a word back, but I don’t quite catch it.

I’m further reassured when Peeta casually tells me the power is off in sections of the fence because crews are out securing the base of the chain link to the ground. Thread must believe I somehow got under the thing, even with that deadly current running through it. It’s a break for the district, having the Peacekeepers busy doing something besides abusing people. Peeta comes by every day to bring me cheese buns and begins to help me work on the family book. It’s an old thing, made of parchment and leather. Some herbalist on my mother’s side of the family started it ages ago. The book’s composed of page after page of ink drawings of plants with descriptions of their medical uses. My father added a section on edible plants that was my guidebook to keeping us alive after his death. For a long time, I’ve wanted to record my own knowledge in it. Things I learned from experience or from Gale, and then the information I picked up when I was training for the Games. I didn’t because I’m no artist and it’s so crucial that the pictures are drawn in exact detail. That’s where Peeta comes in. Some of the plants he knows already, others we have dried samples of, and others I have to describe. He makes sketches on scrap paper until I’m satisfied they’re right, then I let him draw them in the book. After that, I carefully print all I know about the plant. It’s quiet, absorbing work that helps take my mind off my troubles. I like to watch his hands as he works, making a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to our previously black and yellowish book. His face takes on a special look when he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I’ve seen flashes of this before: in the arena, or when he speaks to a crowd, or that time he shoved the Peacekeepers’ guns away from me in District 11. I don’t know quite what to make of it. I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don’t notice much because they’re so blond. But up close, in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they’re a light golden color and so long I don’t see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks. One afternoon Peeta stops shading a blossom and looks up so suddenly that I start, as though I were caught spying on him, which in a strange way maybe I was. But he only says, “You know, I think this is the first time we’ve ever done anything normal together.” “Yeah,” I agree. Our whole relationship has been tainted by the Games. Normal was never a part of it. “Nice for a change.” Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television. Usually we only watch when it’s mandatory, because the mixture of propaganda and displays of the Capitol’s power - including clips from seventy-four years of Hunger Games - is so odious. But now I’m looking for something special. The mockingjay that Bonnie and Twill are basing all their hopes on. I know it’s probably foolishness, but if it is, I want to rule it out. And erase the idea of a thriving District 13 from my mind for good.

Chapter 12

Staying quietly in bed is harder after that. I want to be doing something, finding out more about District 13 or helping in the cause to bring down the Capitol. Instead I sit around stuffing myself with cheese buns and watching Peeta sketch. Haymitch stops by occasionally to bring me news from town, which is always bad. More people being punished or dropping from starvation.

Chapter 13

“Thanks,” I say. I should go see Peeta now, but I don’t want to. My head’s spinning from the drink, and I’m so wiped out, who knows what he could get me to agree to? No, now I have to go home to face my mother and Prim. As I stagger up the steps to my house, the front door opens and Gale pulls me into his arms. “I was wrong. We should have gone when you said,” he whispers. “No,” I say. I’m having trouble focusing, and liquor keeps sloshing out of my bottle and down the back of Gale’s jacket, but he doesn’t seem to care. “It’s not too late,” he says. Over his shoulder, I see my mother and Prim clutching each other in the doorway. We run. They die. And now I’ve got Peeta to protect. End of discussion. “Yeah, it is.” My knees give way and he’s holding me up. As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.

Chapter 14 ( Okay this hug tho)

So I go to bed and, sure enough, within a few hours I awake from a nightmare where that old woman from District 4 transforms into a large rodent and gnaws on my face. I know I was screaming, but no one comes. Not Peeta, not even one of the Capitol attendants. I pull on a robe to try to calm the gooseflesh crawling over my body. Staying in my compartment is impossible, so I decide to go find someone to make me tea or hot chocolate or anything. Maybe Haymitch is still up. Surely he isn’t asleep. I order warm milk, the most calming thing I can think of, from an attendant. Hearing voices from the television room, I go in and find Peeta. Beside him on the couch is the box Effie sent of tapes of the old Hunger Games. I recognize the episode in which Brutus became victor. Peeta rises and flips off the tape when he sees me. “Couldn’t sleep?” “Not for long,” I say. I pull the robe more securely around me as I remember the old woman transforming into the rodent. “Want to talk about it?” he asks. Sometimes that can help, but I just shake my head, feeling weak that people I haven’t even fought yet already haunt me. When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It’s the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he’s offered me any sort of affection. He’s been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go. And why should I? I have said good-bye to Gale. I’ll never see him again, that’s for certain. Nothing I do now can hurt him. He won’t see it or he’ll think I am acting for the cameras. That, at least, is one weight off my shoulders. The arrival of the Capitol attendant with the warm milk is what breaks us apart. He sets a tray with a steaming ceramic jug and two mugs on a table. “I brought an extra cup,” he says. “Thanks,” I say. “And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice,” he adds. He looks at us like he wants to say more, then gives his head a slight shake and backs out of the room. “What’s with him?” I say. “I think he feels bad for us,” says Peeta. “Right,” I say, pouring the milk. “I mean it. I don’t think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in,” says Peeta. “Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions.” “I’m guessing they’ll get over it once the blood starts flowing,” I say flatly. Really, if there’s one thing I don’t have time for, it’s worrying about how the Quarter Quell will affect the mood in the Capitol. “So, you’re watching all the tapes again?”

“Okay,” Peeta agrees. He puts in the tape and I curl up next to him on the couch with my milk, which is really delicious with the honey and spices, and lose myself in the Fiftieth Hunger Games. After the anthem, they show President Snow drawing the envelope for the second Quarter Quell. He looks younger but just as repellent. He reads from the square of paper in the same onerous voice he used for ours, informing Panem that in honor of the Quarter Quell, there will be twice the number of tributes. The editors smash cut right into the reapings, where name after name after name is called.

Peeta clicks off the tape and we sit there in silence for a while.

Chapter 17

Peeta walks me down to my room in silence, but before he can say good night, I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. His hands slide up my back and his cheek leans against my hair. “I’m sorry if I made things worse,” I say. “No worse than I did. Why did you do it, anyway?” he says. “I don’t know. To show them that I’m more than just a piece in their Games?” I say. He laughs a little, no doubt remembering the night before the Games last year. We were on the roof, neither of us able to sleep. Peeta had said something of the sort then, but I hadn’t understood what he meant. Now I do. “Me, too,” he tells me. “And I’m not saying I’m not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I’m perfectly honest about it …” “If you’re perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway,” I say. “It’s crossed my mind,” says Peeta. It’s crossed my mind, too. Repeatedly. But while I know I’ll never leave that arena alive, I’m still holding on to the hope that Peeta will. After all, he didn’t pull out those berries, I did. No one has ever doubted that Peeta’s defiance was motivated by love. So maybe President Snow will prefer keeping him alive, crushed and heartbroken, as a living warning to others. “But even if that happens, everyone will know we’ve gone out fighting, right?” Peeta asks. “Everyone will,” I reply. And for the first time, I distance myself from the personal tragedy that has consumed me since they announced the Quell. I remember the old man they shot in District 11, and Bonnie and Twill, and the rumored uprisings. Yes, everyone in the districts will be watching me to see how I handle this death sentence, this final act of President Snow’s dominance. They will be looking for some sign that their battles have not been in vain. If I can make it clear that I’m still defying the Capitol right up to the end, the Capitol will have killed me … but not my spirit. What better way to give hope to the rebels? The beauty of this idea is that my decision to keep Peeta alive at the expense of my own life is itself an act of defiance. A refusal to play the Hunger Games by the Capitol’s rules. My private agenda dovetails completely with my public one. And if I really could save Peeta … in terms of a revolution, this would be ideal. Because I will be more valuable dead. They can turn me into some kind of martyr for the cause and paint my face on banners, and it will do more to rally people than anything I could do if I was living. But Peeta would be more valuable alive, and tragic, because he will be able to turn his pain into words that will transform people. Peeta would lose it if he knew I was thinking any of this, so I only say, “So what should we do with our last few days?”

“I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you,” Peeta replies.

“Come on, then,” I say, pulling him into my room.

It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn’t realize until now how starved I’ve been for human closeness. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hadn’t wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight’s streaming through the windows.

“No nightmares,” he says.

“No nightmares,” I confirm. “You?”

“None. I’d forgotten what a real night’s sleep feels like,” he says.

We lie there for a while, in no rush to begin the day. Tomorrow night will be the televised interview, so today Effie and Haymitch should be coaching us. More high heels and sarcastic comments, I think. But then the redheaded Avox girl comes in with a note from Effie saying that, given our recent tour, both she and Haymitch have agreed we can handle ourselves adequately in public. The coaching sessions have been canceled.

“Really?” says Peeta, taking the note from my hand and examining it. “Do you know what this means? We’ll have the whole day to ourselves.”

“It’s too bad we can’t go somewhere,” I say wistfully.

“Who says we can’t?” he asks.

The roof. We order a bunch of food, grab some blankets, and head up to the roof for a picnic. A daylong picnic in the flower garden that tinkles with wind chimes. We eat. We lie in the sun. I snap off hanging vines and use my newfound knowledge from training to practice knots and weave nets. Peeta sketches me. We make up a game with the force field that surrounds the roof - one of us throws an apple into it and the other person has to catch it.

No one bothers us. By late afternoon, I lie with my head on Peeta’s lap, making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair, claiming he’s practicing his knots. After a while, his hands go still. “What?” I ask.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” he says.

Usually this sort of comment, the kind that hints of his undying love for me, makes me feel guilty and awful. But I feel so warm and relaxed and beyond worrying about a future I’ll never have, I just let the word slip out. “Okay.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Then you’ll allow it?”

“I’ll allow it,” I say.

His fingers go back to my hair and I doze off, but he rouses me to see the sunset. It’s a spectacular yellow and orange blaze behind the skyline of the Capitol. “I didn’t think you’d want to miss it,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say. Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don’t want to miss any of them.

We don’t go and join the others for dinner, and no one summons us.

“I’m glad. I’m tired of making everyone around me so miserable,” says Peeta. “Everybody crying. Or Haymitch …” He doesn’t need to go on.

We stay on the roof until bedtime and then quietly slip down to my room without encountering anyone.

The next morning, we’re roused by my prep team. The sight of Peeta and me sleeping together is too much for Octavia, because she bursts into tears right away. “You remember what Cinna told us,” Venia says fiercely. Octavia nods and goes out sobbing.

Chapter 18 Peeta’s interview

As I pass Peeta, who’s headed for his interview, he doesn’t meet my eyes. I take my seat carefully, but aside from the puffs of smoke here and there, I seem unharmed, so I turn my attention to him. Caesar and Peeta have been a natural team since they first appeared together a year ago. Their easy give-and-take, comic timing, and ability to segue into heart-wrenching moments, like Peeta’s confession of love for me, have made them a huge success with the audience. They effortlessly open with a few jokes about fires and feathers and overcooking poultry. But anyone can see that Peeta is preoccupied, so Caesar directs the conversation right into the subject that’s on everyone’s minds. “So, Peeta, what was it like when, after all you’ve been through, you found out about the Quell?” asks Caesar. “I was in shock. I mean, one minute I’m seeing Katniss looking so beautiful in all these wedding gowns, and the next …” Peeta trails off. “You realized there was never going to be a wedding?” asks Caesar gently. Peeta pauses for a long moment, as if deciding something. He looks out at the spellbound audience, then at tin floor, then finally up at Caesar. “Caesar, do you think all our friends here can keep a secret?” An uncomfortable laugh emanates from the audience. What can he mean? Keep a secret from who? Our whole world is watching. “I feel quite certain of it,” says Caesar. “We’re already married,” says Peeta quietly. The crowd reacts in astonishment, and I have to bury my face in the folds of my skirt so they can’t see my confusion. Where on earth is he going with this? “But … how can that be?” asks Caesar. “Oh, it’s not an official marriage. We didn’t go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don’t know what it’s like in the other districts. But there’s this thing we do,” says Peeta, and he briefly describes the toasting. “Were your families there?” asks Caesar. “No, we didn’t tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss’s mother would never have approved. But you see, we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there wouldn’t be a toasting. And neither of us really wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it,” Peeta says. “And to us, we’re more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us.” “So this was before the Quell?” says Caesar. “Of course before the Quell. I’m sure we’d never have done it after we knew,” says Peeta, starting to get upset. “But who could’ve seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere - I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?” “You couldn’t, Peeta.” Caesar puts an arm around his shoulders. “As you say, no one could’ve. But I have to confess, I’m glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together.” Enormous applause. As if encouraged, I look up from my feathers and let the audience see my tragic smile of thanks. The residual smoke from the feathers has made my eyes teary, which adds a very nice touch. “I’m not glad,” says Peeta. “I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially.” This takes even Caesar aback. “Surely even a brief time is better than no time?” “Maybe I’d think that, too, Caesar,” says Peeta bitterly, “if it weren’t for the baby.” There. He’s done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him. Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna’s talents, whereas Peeta needs nothing more than his wits. As the bomb explodes, it sends accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying out in every direction. Even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthirsty person out there can’t ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is. I am pregnant. The audience can’t absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help. And me? I know my face is projected in a tight close-up on the screen, but I don’t make any effort to hide it. Because for a moment, even I am working through what Peeta has said. Isn’t it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future - the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now, couldn’t it? If I hadn’t spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family? Caesar can’t rein in the crowd again, not even when the buzzer sounds. Peeta nods his good-bye and comes back to his seat without any more conversation. I can see Caesar’s lips moving, but the place is in total chaos and I can’t hear a word. Only the blast of the anthem, cranked up so loud I can feel it vibrating through my bones, lets us know where we stand in the program. I automatically rise and, as I do, I sense Peeta reaching out for me. Tears run down his face as I take his hand. How real are the tears? Is this an acknowledgment that he has been stalked by the same fears that I have? That every victor has? Every parent in every district in Panem?

The moment we step off the elevator, Peeta grips my shoulders. “There isn’t much time, so tell me. Is there anything I have to apologize for?”

“Nothing,” I say. It was a big leap to take without my okay, but I’m just as glad I didn’t know, didn’t have time to second-guess him, to let any guilt over Gale detract from how I really feel about what Peeta did. Which is empowered.

We walk down the hallway. Peeta wants to stop by his room to shower off the makeup and meet me in a few minutes, but I won’t let him. I’m certain that if a door shuts between us, it will lock and I’ll have to spend the night without him. Besides, I have a shower in my room. I refuse to let go of his hand. Do we sleep? I don’t know. We spend the night holding each other, in some halfway land between dreams and waking. Not talking. Both afraid to disturb the other in the hope that we’ll be able to store up a few precious minutes of rest. Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know Peeta will have to go. Tributes enter the arena alone. He gives me a light kiss. “See you soon,” he says.

See you soon

Chapter 19

Finnick has reached Peeta now and is towing him back, one arm across his chest while the other propels them through the water with easy strokes. Peeta rides along without resisting. I don’t know what Finnick said or did that convinced him to put his life in his hands - showed him the bangle, maybe. Or just the sight of me waiting might have been enough. When they reach the sand, I help haul Peeta up onto dry land.

“Hello, again,” he says, and gives me a kiss. “We’ve got allies.”

“Yes. Just as Haymitch intended,” I answer. “Remind me, did we make deals with anyone else?” Peeta asks.

“Only Mags, I think,” I say. I nod toward the old woman doggedly making her way toward us.

“Well, I can’t leave Mags behind,” says Finnick. “She’s one of the few people who actually likes me.”

Chapter 19/20 Cpr is a kind of kissing

I rush over to where he lies, motionless in a web of vines. “Peeta?” There’s a faint smell of singed hair. I call his name again, giving him a little shake, but he’s unresponsive. My fingers fumble across his lips, where there’s no warm breath although moments ago he was panting. I press my ear against his chest, to the spot where I always rest my head, where I know I will hear the strong and steady beat of his heart. Instead, I find silence.

“Peeta!” I scream. I shake him harder, even resort to slapping his face, but it’s no use. His heart has failed. I am slapping emptiness. “Peeta!” Finnick props Mags against a tree and pushes me out of the way. “Let me.” His fingers touch points at Peeta’s neck, run over the bones in his ribs and spine. Then he pinches Peeta’s nostrils shut. “No!” I yell, hurling myself at Finnick, for surely he intends to make certain that Peeta’s dead, to keep any hope of life from returning to him. Finnick’s hand comes up and hits me so hard, so squarely in the chest that I go flying back into a nearby tree trunk. I’m stunned for a moment, by the pain, by trying to regain my wind, as I see Finnick close off Peeta’s nose again. From where I sit, I pull an arrow, whip the notch into place, and am about to let it fly when I’m stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta. And it’s so bizarre, even for Finnick, that I stay my hand. No, he’s not kissing him. He’s got Peeta’s nose blocked off but his mouth tilted open, and he’s blowing air into his lungs. I can see this, I can actually see Peeta’s chest rising and falling. Then Finnick unzips the top of Peeta’s jumpsuit and begins to pump the spot over his heart with the heels of his hands. Now that I’ve gotten through my shock, I understand what he’s trying to do. Once in a blue moon, I’ve seen my mother try something similar, but not often. If your heart fails in District 12, it’s unlikely your family could get you to my mother in time, anyway. So her usual patients are burned or wounded or ill. Or starving, of course. But Finnick’s world is different. Whatever he’s doing, he’s done it before. There’s a very set rhythm and method. And I find the arrow tip sinking to the ground as I lean in to watch, desperately, for some sign of success. Agonizing minutes drag past as my hopes diminish. Around the time that I’m deciding it’s too late, that Peeta’s dead, moved on, unreachable forever, he gives a small cough and Finnick sits back. I leave my weapons in the dirt as I fling myself at him. “Peeta?” I say softly. I brush the damp blond strands of hair back from his forehead, find the pulse drumming against my fingers at his neck. His lashes flutter open and his eyes meet mine. “Careful,” he says weakly. “There’s a force field up ahead.” I laugh, but there are tears running down my cheeks. “Must be a lot stronger than the one on the Training Center roof,” he says. “I’m all right, though. Just a little shaken.” “You were dead! Your heart stopped!” I burst out, before really considering if this is a good idea. I clap my hand over my mouth because I’m starting to make those awful choking sounds that happen when I sob. “Well, it seems to be working now,” he says. “It’s all right, Katniss.” I nod my head but the sounds aren’t stopping. “Katniss?” Now Peeta’s worried about me, which adds to the insanity of it all. “It’s okay. It’s just her hormones,” says Finnick. “From the baby.” I look up and see him, sitting back on his knees but still panting a bit from the climb and the heat and the effort of bringing Peeta back from the dead. “No. It’s not - ” I get out, but I’m cut off by an even more hysterical round of sobbing that seems only to confirm what Finnick said about the baby. He meets my eyes and I glare at him through my tears. It’s stupid, I know, that his efforts make me so vexed. All I wanted was to keep Peeta alive, and I couldn’t and Finnick could, and I should be nothing but grateful. And I am. But I am also furious because it means that I will never stop owing Finnick Odair. Ever. So how can I kill him in his sleep? I expect to see a smug or sarcastic expression on his face, but his look is strangely quizzical. He glances between Peeta and me, as if trying to figure something out, then gives his head a slight shake as if to clear it. “How are you?” he asks Peeta. “Do you think you can move on?” I notice a gleam of gold on Peeta’s chest. I reach out and retrieve the disk that hangs from a chain around his neck. My mockingjay has been engraved on it. “Is this your token?” I ask. “Yes. Do you mind that I used your mockingjay? I wanted us to match,” he says. “No, of course I don’t mind.” I force a smile. Peeta showing up in the arena wearing a mockingjay is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it should give a boost to the rebels in the district. On the other, it’s hard to imagine President Snow will overlook it, and that makes the job of keeping Peeta alive harder.

Chapter 24

know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins. "It’s all right, Katniss,” he whispers. “You didn’t hear them,” I answer. “I heard Prim. Right in the beginning. But it wasn’t her,” he says. “It was a jabberjay.” “It was her. Somewhere. The jabberjay just recorded it,” I say. “No, that’s what they want you to think. The same way I wondered if Glimmer’s eyes were in that mutt last year. But those weren’t Glimmer’s eyes. And that wasn’t Prim’s voice. Or if it was, they took it from an interview or something and distorted the sound. Made it say whatever she was saying,” he says. “No, they were torturing her,” I answer. “She’s probably dead.” “Katniss, Prim isn’t dead. How could they kill Prim? We’re almost down to the final eight of us. And what happens then?” Peeta says. “Seven more of us die,” I say hopelessly. “No, back home. What happens when they reach the final eight tributes in the Games?” He lifts my chin so I have to look at him. Forces me to make eye contact. “What happens? At the final eight?” I know he’s trying to help me, so I make myself think. “At the final eight?” I repeat. “They interview your family and friends back home.” “That’s right,” says Peeta. “They interview your family and friends. And can they do that if they’ve killed them all?” “No?” I ask, still unsure. “No. That’s how we know Prim’s alive. She’ll be the first one they interview, won’t she?” he asks. I want to believe him. Badly. It’s just … those voices … “First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale. Madge,” he continues. “It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the Games. Not them.” “You really believe that?” I say. “I really do,” says Peeta. I waver, thinking of how Peeta can make anyone believe anything. I look over at Finnick for confirmation, see he’s fixated on Peeta, his words. “Do you believe it, Finnick?” I ask. “It could be true. I don’t know,” he says. “Could they do that, Beetee? Take someone’s regular voice and make it …” “Oh, yes. It’s not even that difficult, Finnick. Our children learn a similar technique in school,” says Beetee. “Of course Peeta’s right. The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on their hands,” says Johanna flatly. “Don’t want that, do they?” She throws back her head and shouts, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

THE BEACH SCENE Chapter 24 if your wondering

Peeta and I sit on the damp sand, facing away from each other, my right shoulder and hip pressed against his. I watch the water as he watches the jungle, which is better for me. I’m still haunted by the voices of the jabberjays, which unfortunately the insects can’t drown out. After a while I rest my head against his shoulder. Feel his hand caress my hair. “Katniss,” he says softly, “it’s no use pretending we don’t know what the other one is trying to do.” No, I guess there isn’t, but it’s no fun discussing it, either. Well, not for us, anyway. The Capitol viewers will be glued to their sets so they don’t miss one wretched word. “I don’t know what kind of deal you think you’ve made with Haymitch, but you should know he made me promises as well.” Of course, I know this, too. He told Peeta they could keep me alive so that he wouldn’t be suspicious. “So I think we can assume he was lying to one of us.” This gets my attention. A double deal. A double promise. With only Haymitch knowing which one is real. I raise my head, meet Peeta’s eyes. “Why are you saying this now?” “Because I don’t want you forgetting how different our circumstances are. If you die, and I live, there’s no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You’re my whole life,” he says. “I would never be happy again.” I start to object but he puts a finger to my lips. “It’s different for you. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard. But there are other people who’d make your life worth living.” Peeta pulls the chain with the gold disk from around his neck. He holds it in the moonlight so I can clearly see the mockingjay. Then his thumb slides along a catch I didn’t notice before and the disk pops open. It’s not solid, as I had thought, but a locket. And within the locket are photos. On the right side, my mother and Prim, laughing. And on the left, Gale. Actually smiling. There is nothing in the world that could break me faster at this moment than these three faces. After what I heard this afternoon … it is the perfect weapon. “Your family needs you, Katniss,” Peeta says. My family. My mother. My sister. And my pretend cousin Gale. But Peeta’s intention is clear. That Gale really is my family, or will be one day, if I live. That I’ll marry him. So Peeta’s giving me his life and Gale at the same time. To let me know I shouldn’t ever have doubts about it. Everything. That’s what Peeta wants me to take from him. I wait for him to mention the baby, to play to the cameras, but he doesn’t. And that’s how I know that none of this is part of the Games. That he is telling me the truth about what he feels. “No one really needs me,” he says, and there’s no self-pity in his voice. It’s true his family doesn’t need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me. “I do,” I say. “I need you.” He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that’s no good, no good at all, because he’ll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I’ll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind. “I can’t sleep anymore,” he says. “One of you should rest.” Only then does he seem to notice our expressions, the way we’re wrapped around each other. “Or both of you. I can watch alone.” Peeta won’t let him, though. “It’s too dangerous,” he says. “I’m not tired. You lie down, Katniss.” I don’t object because I do need to sleep if I’m to be of any use keeping him alive. I let him lead me over to where the others are. He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. “You’re going to make a great mother, you know,” he says. He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick. His reference to the baby signals that our time-out from the Games is over. That he knows the audience will be wondering why he hasn’t used the most persuasive argument in his arsenal. That sponsors must be manipulated. But as I stretch out on the sand I wonder, could it be more? Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if that was it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that’s never been part of my plan. And for another, if only one of us can be a parent, anyone can see it should be Peeta. As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta’s child could be safe

Chapter 25

Peeta rinses the pearl off in the water and hands it to me. “For you.” I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of my life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give me strength in the final moments. “Thanks,” I say, closing my fist around it. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan. The laughter drains from those eyes, and they are staring so intensely into mine, it’s like they can read my thoughts. “The locket didn’t work, did it?” Peeta says, even though Finnick is right there. Even though everyone can hear him. “Katniss?” “It worked,” I say. “But not the way I wanted it to,” he says, averting his glance. After that he will look at nothing but oysters.

I have the pearl, though, secured in a parachute with the spile and the medicine at my waist. I hope it makes it back to District 12. Surely my mother and Prim will know to return it to Peeta before they bury my body.

Chapter 26

I don’t like the plan any more than Peeta does. How can I protect him at a distance? But Beetee’s right. With his leg, Peeta is too slow to make it down the slope in time. Johanna and I are the fastest and most sure-footed on the jungle floor. I can’t think of any alternative. And if I trust anyone here besides Peeta, it’s Beetee. “It’s okay,” I tell Peeta. “We’ll just drop the coil and come straight back up.” “Not into the lightning zone,” Beetee reminds me. “Head for the tree in the one-to-two-o'clock sector. If you find you’re running out of time, move over one more. Don’t even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage.” I take Peeta’s face in my hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you at midnight.” I give him a kiss and, before he can object any further, I let go and turn to Johanna. “Ready?”

Mockingjay .

Chapter 3

I feel around for the parachute and slide my fingers inside until they close around the pearl. I sit back on my bed cross-legged and find myself rubbing the smooth iridescent surface of the pearl back and forth against my lips. For some reason, it’s soothing. A cool kiss from the giver himself.

skim my list. “Gale. I’ll need him with me to do this.” “With you how? Off camera? By your side at all times? Do you want him presented as your new lover?” Coin asks. She hasn’t said this with any particular malice - quite the contrary, her words are very matter-of-fact. But my mouth still drops open in shock. “What?” “I think we should continue the current romance. A quick defection from Peeta could cause the audience to lose sympathy for her,” says Plutarch. “Especially since they think she’s pregnant with his child.” “Agreed. So, on-screen, Gale can simply be portrayed as a fellow rebel. Is that all right?” says Coin. I just stare at her. She repeats herself impatiently. “For Gale. Will that be sufficient?” “We can always work him in as your cousin,” says Fulvia.

“We’re not cousins,” Gale and I say together.

“Right, but we should probably keep that up for appearances’ sake on camera,” says Plutarch. “Off camera, he’s all yours. Anything else?”

I’m rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I’m in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. “When the war is over, if we’ve won, Peeta will be pardoned.”

Dead silence. I feel Gale’s body tense. I guess I should have told him before, but I wasn’t sure how he’d respond. Not when it involved Peeta.

“No form of punishment will be inflicted,” I continue. A new thought occurs to me. “The same goes for the other captured tributes, Johanna and Enobaria.” Frankly, I don’t care about Enobaria, the vicious District 2 tribute. In fact, I dislike her, but it seems wrong to leave her out.

“No,” says Coin flatly.

“Yes,” I shoot back. “It’s not their fault you abandoned them in the arena. Who knows what the Capitol’s doing to them?”

“They’ll be tried with other war criminals and treated as the tribunal sees fit,” she says.

“They’ll be granted immunity!” I feel myself rising from my chair, my voice full and resonant. “You will personally pledge this in front of the entire population of District Thirteen and the remainder of Twelve. Soon. Today. It will be recorded for future generations. You will hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you’ll find yourself another Mockingjay!”

My words hang in the air for a long moment.

Chapter 16

“Always.” In the twilight of morphling, Peeta whispers the word and I go searching for him. It’s a gauzy, violet-tinted world, with no hard edges, and many places to hide. I push through cloud banks, follow faint tracks, catch the scent of cinnamon, of dill. Once I feel his hand on my cheek and try to trap it, but it dissolves like mist through my fingers.

I wish I could meet with Peeta privately. But the audience of doctors has assembled behind the one-way glass, clipboards ready, pens poised. When Haymitch gives me the okay in my earpiece, I slowly open the door. Those blue eyes lock on me instantly. He’s got three restraints on each arm, and a tube that can dispense a knockout drug just in case he loses control. He doesn’t fight to free himself, though, only observes me with the wary look of someone who still hasn’t ruled out that he’s in the presence of a mutt. I walk over until I’m standing about a yard from the bed. There’s nothing to do with my hands, so I cross my arms protectively over my ribs before I speak. “Hey.” “Hey,” he responds. It’s like his voice, almost his voice, except there’s something new in it. An edge of suspicion and reproach. “Haymitch said you wanted to talk to me,” I say. “Look at you, for starters.” It’s like he’s waiting for me to transform into a hybrid drooling wolf right before his eyes. He stares so long I find myself casting furtive glances at the one-way glass, hoping for some direction from Haymitch, but my earpiece stays silent. “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?” I know he’s been through hell and back, and yet somehow the observation rubs me the wrong way. “Well, you’ve looked better.” Haymitch’s advice to back off gets muffled by Peeta’s laughter. “And not even remotely nice. To say that to me after all I’ve been through.” “Yeah. We’ve all been through a lot. And you’re the one who was known for being nice. Not me.” I’m doing everything wrong. I don’t know why I feel so defensive. He’s been tortured! He’s been hijacked! What’s wrong with me? Suddenly, I think I might start screaming at him - I’m not even sure about what - so I decide to get out of there. “Look, I don’t feel so well. Maybe I’ll drop by tomorrow.” I’ve just reached the door when his voice stops me. “Katniss. I remember about the bread.” The bread. Our one moment of real connection before the Hunger Games. “They showed you the tape of me talking about it,” I say. “No. Is there a tape of you talking about it? Why didn’t the Capitol use it against me?” he asks. “I made it the day you were rescued,” I answer. The pain in my chest wraps around my ribs like a vise. The dancing was a mistake. “So what do you remember?” “You. In the rain,” he says softly. “Digging in our trash bins. Burning the bread. My mother hitting me. Taking the bread out for the pig but then giving it to you instead.” “That’s it. That’s what happened,” I say. “The next day, after school, I wanted to thank you. But I didn’t know how.” “We were outside at the end of the day. I tried to catch your eye. You looked away. And then…for some reason, I think you picked a dandelion.” I nod. He does remember. I have never spoken about that moment aloud. “I must have loved you a lot.” “You did.” My voice catches and I pretend to cough. “And did you love me?” he asks. I keep my eyes on the tiled floor. “Everyone says I did. Everyone says that’s why Snow had you tortured. To break me.” “That’s not an answer,” he tells me. “I don’t know what to think when they show me some of the tapes. In that first arena, it looked like you tried to kill me with those tracker jackers.” “I was trying to kill all of you,” I say. “You had me treed.” “Later, there’s a lot of kissing. Didn’t seem very genuine on your part. Did you like kissing me?” he asks. “Sometimes,” I admit. “You know people are watching us now?” “I know. What about Gale?” he continues. My anger’s returning. I don’t care about his recovery - this isn’t the business of the people behind the glass. “He’s not a bad kisser either,” I say shortly. “And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other?” he asks. “No. It wasn’t okay with either of you. But I wasn’t asking your permission,” I tell him. Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively. “Well, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?” Haymitch doesn’t protest when I walk out. Down the hall. Through the beehive of compartments. Find a warm pipe to hide behind in a laundry room. It takes a long time before I get to the bottom of why I’m so upset. When I do, it’s almost too mortifying to admit. All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.

Chapter 18

I consider saying a final good-bye to Peeta, decide it would only be bad for both of us. But I do slip the pearl into the pocket of my uniform. A token of the boy with the bread.

Chapter 19

After about an hour, Peeta speaks up. “These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. Trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth.” That seems grossly unfair, and my first impulse is to say something cutting. But I revisit my conversation with Haymitch and try to take the first tentative step in Peeta’s direction. “I never wanted to kill you. Except when I thought you were helping the Careers kill me. After that, I always thought of you as…an ally.” That’s a good safe word. Empty of any emotional obligation, but nonthreatening. “Ally.” Peeta says the word slowly, tasting it. “Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I’ll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out.” He weaves the rope in and out of his fingers. “The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.” The cessation of rhythmic breathing suggests that either people have woken or have never really been asleep at all. I suspect the latter.

At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. “Your favorite color…it’s green?” “That’s right.” Then I think of something to add. “And yours is orange.” “Orange?” He seems unconvinced. “Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset,” I say. “At least, that’s what you told me once.” “Oh.” He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. “Thank you.” But more words tumble out. “You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.” Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.

Chapter 21

Peeta buries his face in his hands for a few moments, then rises to join us. “Should we free his hands?” asks Leeg 1. “No!” Peeta growls at her, drawing his cuffs in close to his body. “No,” I echo. “But I want the key.” Jackson passes it over without a word. I slip it into my pants pocket, where it clicks against the pearl.

In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. “There’s still time. You should sleep.” Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena. “You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers. “Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation. “Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.” After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.

Chapter 22

“Leave me,” he whispers. “I can’t hang on.” “Yes. You can!” I tell him. Peeta shakes his head. “I’m losing it. I’ll go mad. Like them.” Like the mutts. Like a rabid beast bent on ripping my throat out. And here, finally here in this place, in these circumstances, I will really have to kill him. And Snow will win. Hot, bitter hatred courses through me. Snow has won too much already today. It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. “Don’t let him take you from me.” Peeta’s panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. “No. I don’t want to…” I clench his hands to the point of pain. “Stay with me.” His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. “Always,” he murmurs

Chapter 23

I think it’s time I give myself up. When everyone finally awakens, I confess. How I lied about the mission, how I jeopardized everyone in pursuit of revenge. There’s a long silence after I finish. Then Gale says, “Katniss, we all knew you were lying about Coin sending you to assassinate Snow.” “You knew, maybe. The soldiers from Thirteen didn’t,” I reply.

“Do you really think Jackson believed you had orders from Coin?” Cressida asks. “Of course she didn’t. But she trusted Boggs, and he’d clearly wanted you to go on.”

“I never even told Boggs what I planned to do,” I say.

“You told everyone in Command!” Gale says. “It was one of your conditions for being the Mockingjay. 'I kill Snow.’”

Those seem like two disconnected things. Negotiating with Coin for the privilege of executing Snow after the war and this unauthorized flight through the Capitol. “But not like this,” I say. “It’s been a complete disaster.”

“I think it would be considered a highly successful mission,” says Gale. “We’ve infiltrated the enemy camp, showing that the Capitol’s defenses can be breached. We’ve managed to get footage of ourselves all over the Capitol’s news. We’ve thrown the whole city into chaos trying to find us.”

“Trust me, Plutarch’s thrilled,” Cressida adds.

“That’s because Plutarch doesn’t care who dies,” I say. “Not as long as his Games are a success.”

Cressida and Gale go round and round trying to convince me. Pollux nods at their words to back them up. Only Peeta doesn’t offer an opinion.

“What do you think, Peeta?” I finally ask him.

“I think…you still have no idea. The effect you can have.” He slides his cuffs up the support and pushes himself to a sitting position. “None of the people we lost were idiots. They knew what they were doing. They followed you because they believed you really could kill Snow.”

I don’t know why his voice reaches me when no one else’s can. But if he’s right, and I think he is, I owe the others a debt that can only be repaid in one way. I pull my paper map from a pocket in my uniform and spread it out on the floor with new resolve. “Where are we, Cressida?”

Chapter 27

I wake with a start. Pale morning light comes around the edges of the shutters. The scraping of the shovel continues. Still half in the nightmare, I run down the hall, out the front door, and around the side of the house, because now I’m pretty sure I can scream at the dead. When I see him, I pull up short. His face is flushed from digging up the ground under the windows. In a wheelbarrow are five scraggly bushes. “You’re back,” I say. “Dr. Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” Peeta says. “By the way, he said to tell you he can’t keep pretending he’s treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone.” He looks well. Thin and covered with burn scars like me, but his eyes have lost that clouded, tortured look. He’s frowning slightly, though, as he takes me in. I make a halfhearted effort to push my hair out of my eyes and realize it’s matted into clumps. I feel defensive. “What are you doing?” “I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her,” he says. “I thought we could plant them along the side of the house.” I look at the bushes, the clods of dirt hanging from their roots, and catch my breath as the wordrose registers. I’m about to yell vicious things at Peeta when the full name comes to me. Not plain rose but evening primrose. The flower my sister was named for. I give Peeta a nod of assent and hurry back into the house, locking the door behind me. But the evil thing is inside, not out. Trembling with weakness and anxiety, I run up the stairs. My foot catches on the last step and I crash onto the floor. I force myself to rise and enter my room. The smell’s very faint but still laces the air. It’s there. The white rose among the dried flowers in the vase. Shriveled and fragile, but holding on to that unnatural perfection cultivated in Snow’s greenhouse. I grab the vase, stumble down to the kitchen, and throw its contents into the embers. As the flowers flare up, a burst of blue flame envelops the rose and devours it. Fire beats roses again. I smash the vase on the floor for good measure.

Slowly, with many lost days, I come back to life. I try to follow Dr. Aurelius’s advice, just going through the motions, amazed when one finally has meaning again. I tell him my idea about the book, and a large box of parchment sheets arrives on the next train from the Capitol. I got the idea from our family’s plant book. The place where we recorded those things you cannot trust to memory. The page begins with the person’s picture. A photo if we can find it. If not, a sketch or painting by Peeta. Then, in my most careful handwriting, come all the details it would be a crime to forget. Lady licking Prim’s cheek. My father’s laugh. Peeta’s father with the cookies. The color of Finnick’s eyes. What Cinna could do with a length of silk. Boggs reprogramming the Holo. Rue poised on her toes, arms slightly extended, like a bird about to take flight. On and on. We seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count. Haymitch finally joins us, contributing twenty-three years of tributes he was forced to mentor. Additions become smaller. An old memory that surfaces. A late primrose preserved between the pages. Strange bits of happiness, like the photo of Finnick and Annie’s newborn son. We learn to keep busy again. Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, and then raises geese until the next train arrives. Fortunately, the geese can take pretty good care of themselves. We’re not alone. A few hundred others return because, whatever has happened, this is our home. With the mines closed, they plow the ashes into the earth and plant food. Machines from the Capitol break ground for a new factory where we will make medicines. Although no one seeds it, the Meadow turns green again. Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”

epilogue

They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much. The questions are just beginning. The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they teach about them at school, and the girl knows we played a role in them. The boy will know in a few years. How can I tell them about that world without frightening them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted:

Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise. Here it’s safe, here it’s warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

My children, who don’t know they play on a graveyard.

Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver. But one day I’ll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won’t ever really go away.

I’ll tell them how I survive it. I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it could be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.

But there are much worse games to play.

And Because I am a super Petty Person Gales Kisses will be added below

"If only it were that simple." He picks up one of the flowered cookies and examines it. "Lovely. Your mother made these?" "Peeta." And for the first time, I find I can't hold his gaze. I reach for my tea but set it back down when I hear the cup rattling against the saucer. To cover I quickly take a cookie. "Peeta. How is the love of your life?" he asks. "Good," I say. "At what point did he realize the exact degree of your indifference?" he asks, dipping his cookie in his tea. "I'm not indifferent," I say. "But perhaps not as taken with the young man as you would have the country believe," he says. "Who says I'm not?" I say. "I do," says the president. "And I wouldn't be here if I were the only person who had doubts. How's the handsome cousin?" "I don't know ... I don't ..." My revulsion at this conversation, at discussing my feelings for two of the people I care most about with President Snow, chokes me off. "Speak, Miss Everdeen. Him I can easily kill off if we don't come to a happy resolution," he says. "You aren't doing him a favor by disappearing into the woods with him each Sunday." If he knows this, what else does he know? And how does he know it? Many people could tell him that Gale and I spend our Sundays hunting. Don't we show up at the end of each one loaded down with game? Haven't we for years? The real question is what he thinks goes on in the woods beyond District 12. Surely they haven't been tracking us in there. Or have they? Could we have been followed? That seems impossible. At least by a person. Cameras? That never crossed my mind until this moment. The woods have always been our place of safety, our place beyond the reach of the Capitol, where we're free to say what we feel, be who we are. At least before the Games. If we've been watched since, what have they seen? Two people hunting, saying treasonous things against the Capitol, yes. But not two people in love, which seems to be President Snow's implication. We are safe on that charge. Unless ... unless ... It only happened once. It was fast and unexpected, but it did happen. After Peeta and I got home from the Games, it was several weeks before I saw Gale alone. First there were the obligatory celebrations. A banquet for the victors that only the most high-ranking people were invited to. A holiday for the whole district with free food and entertainers brought in from the Capitol. Parcel Day, the first of twelve, in which food packages were delivered to every person in the district. That was my favorite. To see all those hungry kids in the Seam running around, waving cans of applesauce, tins of meat, even candy. Back home, too big to carry, would be bags of grain, cans of oil. To know that once a month for a year they would all receive another parcel. That was one of the few times I actually felt good about winning the Games. So between the ceremonies and events and the reporters documenting my every move as I presided and thanked and kissed Peeta for the audience, I had no privacy at all. After a few weeks, things finally died down. The camera crews and reporters packed up and went home. Peeta and I assumed the cool relationship we've had ever since. My family settled into our house in the Victor's Village. The everyday life of District 12 - workers to the mines, kids to school - resumed its usual pace. I waited until I thought the coast was really clear, and then one Sunday, without telling anyone, I got up hours before dawn and took off for the woods. The weather was still warm enough that I didn't need a jacket. I packed along a bag filled with special foods, cold chicken and cheese and bakery bread and oranges. Down at my old house, I put on my hunting boots. As usual, the fence was not charged and it was simple to slip into the woods and retrieve my bow and arrows. I went to our place, Gale's and mine, where we had shared breakfast the morning of the reaping that sent me into the Games. I waited at least two hours. I'd begun to think that he'd given up on me in the weeks that had passed. Or that he no longer cared about me. Hated me even. And the idea of losing him forever, my best friend, the only person I'd ever trusted with my secrets, was so painful I couldn't stand it. Not on top of everything else that had happened. I could feel my eyes tearing up and my throat starting to close the way it does when I get upset. Then I looked up and there he was, ten feet away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. He was holding me so tightly that I couldn't see his face, but it was a really long time before he let me go and then he didn't have much choice, because I'd gotten this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and had to get a drink. We did what we always did that day. Ate breakfast. Hunted and fished and gathered. Talked about people in town. But not about us, his new life in the mines, my time in the arena. Just about other things. By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same. That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn't even know I'd gone hunting and they'd be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale - watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone. Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin. It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home. That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way. This all flashes through my head in an instant as President Snow's eyes bore into me on the heels of his threat to kill Gale. How stupid I've been to think the Capitol would just ignore me once I'd returned home! Maybe I didn't know about the potential uprisings. But I knew they were angry with me. Instead of acting with the extreme caution the situation called for, what have I done? From the president's point of view, I've ignored Peeta and flaunted my preference for Gale's company before the whole district. And by doing so made it clear I was, in fact, mocking the Capitol. Now I've endangered Gale and his family and my family and Peeta, too, by my carelessness. "Please don't hurt Gale," I whisper. "He's just my friend. He's been my friend for years. That's all that's between us. Besides, everyone thinks we're cousins now." "I'm only interested in how it affects your dynamic with Peeta, thereby affecting the mood in the districts," he says. "It will be the same on the tour. I'll be in love with him just as I was," I say. "Just as you are," corrects President Snow. "Just as I am," I confirm.

For the first time, I reverse our positions in my head. I imagine watching Gale volunteering to save Rory in the reaping, having him torn from my life, becoming some strange girl's lover to stay alive, and then coming home with her. Living next to her. Promising to marry her. The hatred I feel for him, for the phantom girl, for everything, is so real and immediate that it chokes me. Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable. Why did it take him being whipped within an inch of his life to see it? Because I'm selfish. I'm a coward. I'm the kind of girl who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn't follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. I rest my head forward on the edge of the table, overcome with loathing for myself. Wishing I had died in the arena. Wishing Seneca Crane had blown me to bits the way President Snow said he should have when I held out the berries. The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful of poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. The trouble is, I don't know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. Could it be the people in the districts are right? That it was an act of rebellion, even if it was an unconscious one? Because, deep down, I must know it isn't enough to keep myself, or my family, or my friends alive by running away. Even if I could. It wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't stop people from being hurt the way Gale was today. Life in District 12 isn't really so different from life in the arena. At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it. Well, it's not hard for Gale. He was born a rebel. I'm the one making an escape plan. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. I lean forward and kiss him. His eyelashes flutter and he looks at me through a haze of opiates. "Hey, Catnip." "Hey, Gale," I say. "Thought you'd be gone by now," he says. My choices are simple. I can die like quarry in the woods or I can die here beside Gale. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble." "Me, too," Gale says. He just manages a smile before the drugs pull him back under.

By the time we reach the town square, afternoon's sinking into evening. I take Cressida to the rubble of the bakery and ask her to film something. The only emotion I can muster is exhaustion. "Peeta, this is your home. None of your family has been heard of since the bombing. Twelve is gone. And you're calling for a cease-fire?" I look across the emptiness. "There's no one left to hear you." As we stand before the lump of metal that was the gallows, Cressida asks if either of us has ever been tortured. In answer, Gale pulls off his shirt and turns his back to the camera. I stare at the lash marks, and again hear the whistling of the whip, see his bloody figure hanging unconscious by his wrists. "I'm done," I announce. "I'll meet you at the Victor's Village. Something for...my mother." I guess I walked here, but the next thing I'm conscious of is sitting on the floor in front of the kitchen cabinets of our house in the Victor's Village. Meticulously lining ceramic jars and glass bottles into a box. Placing clean cotton bandages between them to prevent breaking. Wrapping bunches of dried flowers. Suddenly, I remember the rose on my dresser. Was it real? If so, is it still up there? I have to resist the temptation to check. If it's there, it will only frighten me all over again. I hurry with my packing. When the cabinets are empty, I rise to find that Gale has materialized in my kitchen. It's disturbing how soundlessly he can appear. He's leaning on the table, his fingers spread wide against the wood grain. I set the box between us. "Remember?" he asks. "This is where you kissed me." So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I say. "Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then," he tells me. "Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree.' Still waiting for an answer." Gale, who I have never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over, I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery. It's a surprising flavor for such a gentle kiss. He pulls away first and gives me a wry smile. "I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself. "Because I'm in pain," he says. "That's the only way I get your attention." He picks up the box. "Don't worry, Katniss. It'll pass." He leaves before I can answer. I'm too weary to work through his latest charge. I spend the short ride back to 13 curled up in a seat, trying to ignore Plutarch going on about one of his favorite subjects - weapons mankind no longer has at its disposal. High-flying planes, military satellites, cell disintegrators, drones, biological weapons with expiration dates. Brought down by the destruction of the atmosphere or lack of resources or moral squeamishness. You can hear the regret of a Head Gamemaker who can only dream of such toys, who must make do with hovercraft and land-to-land missiles and plain old guns.

Gale finds me when they arrive late one afternoon. I'm sitting on a log at the edge of my current village, plucking a goose. A dozen or so of the birds are piled at my feet. Great flocks of them have been migrating through here since I've arrived, and the pickings are easy. Without a word, Gale settles beside me and begins to relieve a bird of its feathers. We're through about half when he says, "Any chance we'll get to eat these?" "Yeah. Most go to the camp kitchen, but they expect me to give a couple to whoever I'm staying with tonight," I say. "For keeping me." "Isn't the honor of the thing enough?" he says. "You'd think," I reply. "But word's gotten out that mockingjays are hazardous to your health." We pluck in silence for a while longer. Then he says, "I saw Peeta yesterday. Through the glass." "What'd you think?" I ask. "Something selfish," says Gale. "That you don't have to be jealous of him anymore?" My fingers give a yank, and a cloud of feathers floats down around us. "No. Just the opposite." Gale pulls a feather out of my hair. "I thought...I'll never compete with that. No matter how much pain I'm in." He spins the feather between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't stand a chance if he doesn't get better. You'll never be able to let him go. You'll always feel wrong about being with me." "The way I always felt wrong kissing him because of you," I say. Gale holds my gaze. "If I thought that was true, I could almost live with the rest of it." "It is true," I admit. "But so is what you said about Peeta."

Gale makes a sound of exasperation. Nonetheless, after we've dropped off the birds and volunteered to go back to the woods to gather kindling for the evening fire, I find myself wrapped in his arms. His lips brushing the faded bruises on my neck, working their way to my mouth. Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me. Or I'll never go back to him. I'll stay in 2 until it falls, go to the Capitol and kill Snow, and then die for my trouble. And he'll die insane and hating me. So in the fading light I shut my eyes and kiss Gale to make up for all the kisses I've withheld, and because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it. Gale's touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body's still alive, and for the moment it's a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. "Katniss," he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. "Now kiss me." Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly. He examines my face closely. "What's going on in your head?"

"I don't know," I whisper back.

"Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count," he says with a weak attempt at a laugh. He scoops up a pile of kindling and drops it in my empty arms, returning me to myself.

"How do you know?" I say, mostly to cover my embarrassment. "Have you kissed someone who's drunk?" I guess Gale could've been kissing girls right and left back in 12. He certainly had enough takers. I never thought about it much before.

He just shakes his head. "No. But it's not hard to imagine."

"So, you never kissed any other girls?" I ask.

"I didn't say that. You know, you were only twelve when we met. And a real pain besides. I did have a life outside of hunting with you," he says, loading up with firewood.

Suddenly, I'm genuinely curious. "Who did you kiss? And where?"

"Too many to remember. Behind the school, on the slag heap, you name it," he says.

I roll my eyes. "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?"

"No. About six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded," he tells me.

I remember that day. Bitter cold and dark by four in the afternoon. We'd been hunting, but a heavy snow had driven us back into town. The Hob was crowded with people looking for refuge from the weather. Greasy Sae's soup, made with stock from the bones of a wild dog we'd shot a week earlier, was below her usual standards. Still, it was hot, and I was starving as I scooped it up, sitting cross-legged on her counter. Darius was leaning on the post of the stall, tickling my cheek with the end of my braid, while I smacked his hand away. He was explaining why one of his kisses merited a rabbit, or possibly two, since everyone knows redheaded men are the most virile. And Greasy Sae and I were laughing because he was so ridiculous and persistent and kept pointing out women around the Hob who he said had paid far more than a rabbit to enjoy his lips. "See? The one in the green muffler? Go ahead and ask her.If you need a reference."

A million miles from here, a billion days ago, this happened. "Darius was just joking around," I say.

"Probably. Although you'd be the last to figure out if he wasn't," Gale tells me. "Take Peeta. Take me. Or even Finnick. I was starting to worry he had his eye on you, but he seems back on track now."

"You don't know Finnick if you think he'd love me," I say.

Gale shrugs. "I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things."

I can't help thinking that's directed at me.

Gale catches my arm before I can disappear. "So that's what you're thinking now?" I shrug. "Katniss, as your oldest friend, believe me when I say he's not seeing you as you really are." He kisses my cheek and goes.

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corpse--diem · 4 years

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The Four Horsemen | Marley, Felix, Roy & Erin

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Warehouse by the docks PARTIES: @detectivedreameater @streetharmacist @theshadowandvalleyaremine & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: “And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.” CONTENT WARNINGS: Gun use tw, Head trauma tw

Felix and Marley would be here any moment. Erin hadn’t slept. Couldn’t after the events from the night before. More death--needless death--had befallen innocent lives. How many had been killed in pursuit of one man now? More than she could keep count of, she knew that much, and even more had felt the aftershocks of ever blow. She thought she had readied herself for the cost. Whatever it takes. Another one of her mantras. Her gut twisted stubbornly anyway, a big fuck you to the mantras and the autopilot mode she locked herself up into the past few months. There was a limit to everything and her’s was quickly approaching.

Rather than pace a hole into the floor, she came here, pouring herself into their notes, crossing off businesses and people that were no longer a threat or under Roy’s finger. Made a note of the attack on the witches, the locations he had hit. It was all over the place and trying to figure out where he’d go next was like fumbling through Tommy’s image still sat unmarked. Purposefully. Didn’t feel like her box to check off. Sunlight burst into the dark room, painful for a moment after huddling in the dark for so long. Wasn’t hard to figure out who the silhouette belonged to. “Hey, just in time,” Erin greeted Marley, hunched over the metal table she’d been using for a desk. They didn’t have time for whatever tension remained between them. With Roy’s next move pending, it was nothing but a distraction. Gave a nod to the images on the wall. “I was saving the honor for you.” Marley hadn’t been the one to slay him herself but she more than earned this much. Held out a marker to her, the closest thing to an olive branch as she was going to get right now.

The light at the end of the tunnel was a little too cliche for Marley’s taste, but it really was the only thought she had as she made her way to the docks that afternoon. The three of them were meeting up for a strategy talk, because their two biggest obstacles were now out of the way. It almost felt fake to think, like she’d somehow believed all of this would never end. They’d be caught in the eternal loop of fighting and losing and hitting back and winning. That was how altercations between crime rings and police usually went, but Roy wasn’t just a crime boss, and the three of them definitely weren’t just police. Speaking of, Marley slid her badge into her back pocket as she turned down the lane towards the warehouse Erin had told her about. Though there was no one around, being followed was not something she could allow to happen. She stopped, waited a few minutes by the bus stop, before slipping into the alley. By the time she made it to the door, she was well and alone.

Erin’s voice rang out and Marley glanced around before letting her eyes land on her form, hunched over a table. She was squinting over at Marley, but the dark lighting of the warehouse didn’t obscure Marley’s sight at all. She moved into the room, shutting the door. When she came over to the table, Erin had all their notes splayed out and was holding up the red marker to her. “How sweet,” she said, taking the pen. Things were still a little tense between them, but their little forest foray had eased some of the anger Marley felt. And right now, anger didn’t matter. She needed to save it for Roy.

Her hand hovered over Tommy’s picture for a moment-- her face stung at the image, all the thoughts and worries and strife he’d caused her and the others crowding her head, but something underneath it all bubbled up, something stronger, and she jabbed the pen down, marking off his image with a bright, obtrusive X right over his face. A satisfied smile fell onto her face. She remembered his body, alone in the forest. Remembered the feel of the blade as she cut through his skin. She only wished she could have been there to see Roy’s face when he saw Tommy’s head, packaged so neatly for him on his doorstep. “The honor was all mine,” she said, setting the pen down and turning to look at Erin. “So what’s the plan, now? Felix here yet?”

Felix wanted to take every streetlight that he passed by, avoided, in hand and crush it. Half in light and half in shadow. The fae hungered to paint the whole fucking town black. If he could kill the sun itself, he would climb over every star to do just that. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. They weren’t done yet. Soon enough they would be. He felt pretty damn sure of that. Assurance came in the form of a paper thin glass dagger. If it was enough to wiggle between Roy Chambers ribs and snuff him out, good riddance. It would have to do. His head ached as he walked toward their meeting place. He had a feeling the ache might stop when Roy Chambers stopped breathing. It was the kind of thought that would have warmed him under different circumstances. All it did lately was make his steps quicker, his eyes sharper.

The door to their warehouse opened and shut quietly as he stepped through. He snapped the umbrella he had closed and tossed it aside. “I’m here now,” Felix said as he moved toward the table. He deftly undid the buttons of his suit jacket and took out a carefully folded piece of red fabric. His gaze shifted between Erin and Marley as he set it on the table. A hand slid into his pants pocket. “That’s our ace in there. I’m keen to see just how sharp it is.” He kept his tone level even as his disposition shifted back and forth like a ship in rough waters. A brow lifted over the rim of his glasses. “Guess they’re down a bear, huh?”

A once colorless array of images lined that wall, starting with the bossman himself, to Tommy. Many dead, some in jail, and the most cowardice of the few had fled. Turns out fear and money inspired limited loyalty. Even Dale was up there, his stupid grin marked off with a fat, red X - the very first. Triumphs spread slowly, but steadily, the crimson marking them one by one until only the last remained. “Feels pretty good, huh?” Erin asked with the whisper of a smile hiding behind furrowed brows. It was important to remember these moments. To appreciate the wins, big or little, because they sure as hell wouldn’t be forgetting their losses. Helped remind them why it was worth it, why they were doing this at all. “I’ve got a couple ideas, but I’ll wait for Felix to explain,” she answered, smoothing out the corner of the map she was looking over.

Almost on cue, she watched him slip through the door. His demeanour was far different than she usually recalled. Darker. Sharper, like the knife beneath the red cloth. Not even Felix, who’d made a point to keep his participation quiet, hidden in the shadows, had gone untouched in this war. She waited just a moment, eyes bouncing hesitantly between the two until she reached for it, anxious to reveal it live and in-person. The hilt was simple, sturdy, but once removed from the sheath, her eyes never left the glass blade. “This is it, huh?” An image of the blade sinking into undead skin, watching the life slip from his eyes, brought a dark sense of satisfaction she wasn’t prepared to admit or indulge. “Sturdy enough to crack that thick skull, you think?” She asked, teasing a smile for just a moment. “Thank you,” she nodded at him, gesturing towards the dagger. Slipped it back into the sheath and set it onto the table. Took a deep breath. “I know it wasn’t easy. None of this has been. It’s not about to get easier. But we’re almost there,” she glanced between them both, trying to hold back some of the smugness in the curve of her lips. “We’re gonna get him.” It wasn’t a question, or a matter of if any more.

Marley’s eyes went to Felix when he entered. His entire demeanor had changed. She didn’t even need to be a body language expert to see that. But what she did see that others wouldn’t was the darkness in his step. It wasn’t hidden inside of him anymore. After his loss, after everything they’d all given up to get here, it made sense. It was now a darkness they all carried. The three of them together. Marley didn’t move when the knife was placed between them and Erin unraveled it like it was the answer to all of life’s questions. And, for their purpose, it sort of was. It glinted in the dim light and reflected Erin’s eyes. Marley watched her closely. Victory was so close she could taste it, but being hasty would ruin it. She reached out and put a hand over Erin’s. “He’s going down,” she reassured, “we just have to make sure we do it right.” It felt a little hypocritical after what she’d tried to pull with Tommy, but Erin had been her voice of reason back then and now she needed to be Erin’s. “Right?” she urged, giving a little squeeze. She could feel the eagerness inside her own bones as well. When they were finished with this, things would be better. Safer. She wouldn’t have to be looking over her shoulder or worrying if someone was going to show up at Anita’s. The strange anxiety of worrying about other people was still making Marley’s stomach churn with a sourness she wasn’t used to. She’d questioned once or twice whether she truly was cut out to care about others, but if she didn’t try, she’d never know. Never prove everyone wrong. And this? This was the ultimate test, wasn’t it? Her gaze turned to Felix. “We should strike at night,” she said, turning to face the table, “we need to figure out the best place to confront him, too.”

“Don’t mention it,” Felix said with a slight nod. As the knife came into view, he couldn’t help a slim smile. It was the subtle sort of knife. The kind he could appreciate on its own but could appreciate more when it was sticking out of someone, their face frozen in shock. “Consider him dead already.” He said it easily enough, hardly a breath between. He ran his thumb along the line of his jaw as he thought. “It’d be best to get him where he’s most comfortable. A fat cat like that? I’d wager a nightly house call could do it.” He looked over towards Marley with a small smile. They had done one hell of a job before and he was sure they could do it again. As many times as they needed to. The grin widened, sharpened, as he looked toward Erin. “It’s exciting, right?” He shook out his shoulders some. Roy had made it personal for every single one of them. Whoever had said that an eye for an eye made the whole world blind just wasn’t cut out for it. “Whatever we decide, we do it now or not at all. We got all the pieces. We just need to make the moves. Checkmate his punk ass right into the gutter.”

A night attack was the only thing that made sense when your partners thrived in the safety of shadows. Erin couldn’t help the slight twinge of anger that pulled in her chest at Marley’s words. Hard to forget the panicked wallop that had socked her in the gut after Marley ran off on her own, determined to take Tommy down herself. Damn near jeopardized the whole mission. Did Marley really think she’d pull something like that herself now? It was tempting, sure. But she knew better. Wasn’t like she stood a chance against the guy on her own. “Right,” she assured her, a curt nod following. None of that mattered now. There was one goal and everything they had left had to focus on that. Nothing else. Erin squeezed her hand back before jumping right back into it, moving back to the map on the table. “Alright, so, I haven’t been able to locate exactly where he lives yet. The guy doesn’t want to be found or bothered, right? My guess is somewhere on Harris Island or in one of the gated communities in East End.” Felix was right though. This was exciting. Even found herself fighting back a smile as she spoke. “Even if he’s juiced up on someone else’s magic, there’s three of us and one of him. I think my best bet, and our best bet, is to have me slip in at the end with the knife after you’ve distracted and beaten his ‘punk ass’ down enough--”

“Wow. Seriously--wow.”

A loud, slow clap suddenly boomed from the otherside of the warehouse. Footsteps followed with a booming laugh that made every bone in Erin’s body freeze up. She knew that laugh, that voice. Couldn’t forget it if she’d tried, not with the way it haunted most of her waking thoughts.

Roy stopped clapping long enough to slip his hands into his pockets, dark eyes peering not at the three of them hovering around the table. He spared a few glances but he couldn’t stop staring at their board, the notes taped to the wall, like this was a full fledged investigation. He seemed more… disheveled than usual. Manic almost. “I’ve gotta hand it to your rag tag little group here, Nichols. You all have been nothing if not thorough, haven’t you?” A seething smirk lifted the corner of his lips before he gestured with a nod from the way he’d just come. “Although, with that in mind, you’d think you’d remember to lock the back entrance to your super secret club hideout.” He glanced towards Marley, then to Felix. “Or even hide your tracks a little better on the way here. Rookie mistake. You’re new at this, I get that. Mistakes happen.”

He took a few steps closer, slow, never daring a move that could jar them into action. Not yet. Even when he stiffened at the sight of Tommy on the wall. Took more self-control than he initially anticipated but he worked his jaw, regaining his composure. That shit-eating grin replaced the hard line he’d momentarily allowed to slip onto his features. “Mr. Doyle. Ms. Stryder,” he nodded at her two companions. “You wanted me, right? Well, here I am. You’ve got me.”

The chill that ran down Marley’s spine was one she was sure she’d caused others to feel many times. On herself, it felt wrong. Foreign. The clapping had cut through the air around them like knives and she’d turned stiffly to watch Roy stroll from the shadows and straight towards them. Her hand twitched to her gun, but she knew it wouldn’t work. Perhaps slow him down, maybe, but it would not kill. It could not. But it was her only line of defense right now, since the sun sat high in the sky. She swallowed, watched him closely, subconsciously taking a step to put herself between Roy’s path and Erin. Felix was closest to him now. Her eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses-- no, she wasn’t completely defenseless. If he could feel fear, then she could use her ace in the hole. Getting him to look at her would be the hardest part. “Didn’t your mother teach you to knock? It’s rude to just come inside uninvited,” she growled, standing perfectly still, eyes unblinking as she glared him down.

Felix looked at Roy head on as he walked in. His own movements were small, casual, as he reached into his pocket to produce a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. “Don’t they just, old sport.” Flame kissed the end of his cigarette. His anger was barely contained under false human skin. The weight of his head felt uneven as he tipped it to the side. A puff of smoke faded and brought his own grin into view. “You went looking for us, huh? Smart. Can’t blame you at all. You know, we were thinking of doing just that ourselves. Nice to see that we broke even on that one, huh?” He shifted his posture slightly, stood up straight and angled his head once more. The next drag he took of his cigarette was slow and deliberate. He gestured towards Roy with the hand that held it. “Say, we do something to set you off there, pal?”

There was an unsettling fury radiating from Roy. Erin could sense it even from here, could see something not quite right in his eyes. Every step, every word eased out of him methodically. Even the way he rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up seemed tempered, brimming with the same unease she saw in those dark eyes. But she only stood, unmoving, tensing every time Felix or Marley quipped his way, agitating him a little more each time. Slowly, so slowly, she moved her hand towards the clothed knife--

“Ah, ah--I see you, Nichols.” Roy’s dark eyes were firmly on her now. Mid-air, her hand hovered above the knife. Still himself, except for the jostling that loosened his silk tie until his neck was completely bare. That sharp smile returned when he watched the smoke curl loosely around Felix’s hand. “Oh, I’m doing peachy keen, friends. Thanks for asking.” He tilted his head slightly, gesturing towards Marley with one hand as the other sunk into his front pocket. “Well, you know, thank you for asking Felix. I’m doing swell. I mean, outside of the fact that you murdered one of my best men. That one did kind of sting a little.” He shrugged, face and nose crinkling with a feigned apathy. “I’m tired though. Aren’t you guys tired? You’ve been at this for--what? A few months now? Blowing up buildings, fighting, getting people killed.” He put a hand to his chest, the corner of his mouth lifting again. “I’m ready for this to be over. What about you? Hm?”

There was a long pause, as if he was waiting for some particular sort of answer. Satisfied after a moment, he nodded. He pulled his hands from his pockets, fingers splayed outward. “That’s what I thought. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” He felt the warmth trickling from his fingertips, the magic pulsing from every dead vein, and without hesitation, his fingers snapped inward, balling into a fist. Every single window in the warehouse crackled, glass bursting out as light poured in. “Much better,” he laughed, though it was swallowed by the deafening shattering. He moved, hands outstretched as he inwardly switched gears, flipping through the coven’s magic like an arsenal. Ribbons of fire stretched from his fingertips, shooting out at the table they all hovered near, very pointedly setting the wall of images up in flames.

Marley’s eyes watched him closely, every movement, every twitch. It was clear he was going to attack. The only thing to figure out was when. Marley felt her chest tightening, pounding. Tommy was dead because of her, and her face was scarred because of him. She would not reveal her hand yet, though. They needed to play it cool, needed to think of a strategy first. She did not answer any of his question, only stayed poised. When his hands came back up out of his pockets, she knew. The windows shattered around them, a loud booming. The rain of glass sounding like a terrifying waterfall of shards. She covered her head, her face, immediately standing back up once it was over. The fire lashed at the wall they’d put up, setting it quickly ablaze. Marley grabbed Erin and pulled her out of the way, holding up her gun. Fired once, twice, directly into him, knowing it was simply there to provide a distraction. If Felix could get to him, they would be okay. That’s all Erin and Marley were now, distractions. “Go,” she hissed at him, “we’ll cover you!” She shoved the gun into Erin’s hands and reached down for her taser baton. “C’mon, big boy!” she hooted at Roy, “must be tiring being so old and ineffective.”

“One of your best guys, huh? You hate to see it.” The twitch of a smile lifted the corners of Felix’s mouth. That telltale smell of magic was thick in his nose. Reactions in the air, the give and take. It wasn’t quite fire and brimstone. There was too much light in the room with the windows busted but they would have to make do. There was no other option. Marley and Erin would be fine. They had to be, even as glass rained and gunshots fired. And now Roy was alone whereas they were three. But sometimes, numbers didn’t mean much. Maybe that wouldn’t be the case here. They had shit to make even. The fae flicked his cigarette aside and sought out the dark where he could. There wasn’t much. Any sunlight would sizzle him and if he stayed in it long enough… He shed the human skin he wore. It wouldn’t do him any good. Any effort would need to be put into getting close. Close enough to get his metaphorical teeth around the magic that Roy spilled over with. He slipped his glasses off and tossed them aside. As much as he wanted to spit venom, it was counterproductive. He slipped along the walls where the light didn’t touch, his steps light. Roy was close. Close enough that Felix’s blood crackled with potential magic and his mouth watered. But not close enough. Not yet.

The bullets sent Roy back a few steps, like taking a bat to the chest a few times, splicing through undead skin and muscle. “Cute,” he huffed, a thin, razor sharp smirk filling his features as he shot a glare at Marley. Wasn’t his first time taking a shot to the chest. But it was Felix who caught his attention, thick black wisps and bright eyes birthing from the solace of what little darkness remained. “Oh, there he is!” Roy shouted excitedly, peering into the darkness. A lampade. Huh. Seemed Erin had a few tricks left up her sleeve after all. Made sense now, the resiliency of their efforts. She’d only stood a chance because she’d been the only human in the room. Either way, he’d have to be more careful about where he threw his magic around now. “What happened there, bud? Get caught on a chandelier or something?” He smirked, peering over, careful not to look directly into his eyes but it was hard to mistake the space where a second antler should have been. Barely casting the two women a glance, he switched his elemental ammunition. That coven had been a goddamn goldmine.

A gust of wind this time, as strong as a draft from a hurricane, hurtled them both back, sending the crates in the room and shards of glass with them. “Come on! Let me get a good look at you,” he practically chirped. With a flick of his wrist, he used the same current to drag debris and the metal table Felix’s way.

Shit, he’d seen Felix already. Marley went to bolt forward, but in the next moment, she was being thrown backwards by a gust of wind. She landed hard on her back, tumbling a few times over before coming to a stop. Her eyes first searched out Erin, standing despite the struggle for breath in her lungs. “Get up!” she said, grabbing her and hoisting her up. “Get behind something!” The table was flying for Felix, and Marley decided now was the time to act. Invulnerability or not, she had to do something. Felix was their only bet of getting out of this alive-- he was their queen on the chessboard, and that meant Marley was nothing more than a rook or a knight. Perhaps even just a pawn. Somehow, she was okay with that. Despite all of her years of self-preservation, of putting herself and only herself ahead of others needs and wants, she felt in this moment that she wasn’t the most important person in this room. She felt as if her role was already decided. And she was okay with that. She had to be.

She made it up to Roy in no time, swung her baton, and watched it smash into the back of Roy’s head. “Wonder how your bear felt in his last moments,” she chided, purposefully looking to egg Roy on, turn his attention away from Felix. “Do you think he begged for his life? Do you think he felt like a failure?”

There wasn’t enough dark in the joint for Felix to blend in the way he wanted to. Wasn’t that just the way of things? Not going exactly how they wanted them to? He grit his teeth. His eyes brightened by a slim margin as the table came his way and he rolled away from it. With a crash, it collided with the wall. Rays of sunlight burned down on his darkened fingertips and he quickly pulled his hand into his chest. His eyes widened as Marley threw herself at Roy, baton in hand like some warrior. She sure fucking was a warrior but that didn’t seem to phase Roy as he tossed her aside. “Marley!” Roy was a large man with a large shadow, the way he stood with the sunlight pouring in. It was large enough that Felix might be able to fit into it. Something seemed to change in the air as the fae crept closer. It felt heavier.

Erin barely had a grip on the gun before her and Marley both were swept off their feet. This wasn’t the fucking plan. It was the only thing racing through her mind before her back hit the wall. A crack and a seering, burning pain ripped up her chest, making it hard to breathe. Even harder to move even when Marley yanked her back to her feet. Fuck. Hide? She could do that. It was about the only thing she could do. Wincing, she scooped up the gun from the debris and slid into position behind a sturdier looking metal crate just in time to see Marley book it. No, no, no.

Roy let out a low growl of pain when the baton connected, grabbing a fistful of the mara’s hair. A different kind of anguish gutted him. He’d never give the woman the satisfaction of knowing her intentional jabs were doing exactly what she intended them to do. If she wanted to piss him off, she’d done it alright. He gripped her hair tighter, the glamour keeping his corpse-like disposition at bay flickering with the intensity of his anger. Tommy wasn’t a failure. If anything, Roy had failed him. He grit his teeth, pulling her closer, dark eyes boring down at her. “I don’t know, do you?” He didn’t need magic to toss her away, clear across the room. She was nothing. They were all nothing. Gnats that needed to be swatted away, to be crushed under his palm. It was high time they remembered that.

The whistle of a bullet shot by his head. Then another--missed, again. The third one hit right in the shoulder and he turned just in time to see Erin gearing up for one more. So determined, so utterly human in her futile attempts, he’d almost forgotten she was even in the room. That dark smile returned and his hand shot up as he stepped forward. A new magic trickled through his veins, different than the ones he’d stolen from the coven. This was from the boy at the bar. He’d known it the moment he’d siphoned the magic but testing it here and now? It just hit different. He’d have to find him again, get another taste so he could practice. It took more focus than he realized but the pressure enveloping her skull was starting to take hold. When she dropped the gun, his smile widened at the sound of her screaming. Oh, this was fun. He liked this. He could feel the pressure building, as sure as he held her head in his palms. “Give your parents my regards, will you?”

Marley didn’t struggle when he grabbed her hair, yanking her up and holding her still. She just smiled at him, knowing what was inevitably going to happen when he let go. She would not give him the satisfaction of her fear. Like she’d told Erin not a week ago, fear wasn’t a weakness. She was surprised, however, when her feet left the ground and he tossed her away. Sure, she was flying through the air, but he hadn’t straight up killed her. That would be a mistake. When gravity claimed her and she came tumbling back down, it was with a resounding crack as her back hit the ground hard enough to steal all the breath from her lungs. She could feel the ribs snap and splinter inside of her as she finally came to a stop, wheezing as blood curled up her throat. It leaked down the side of her mouth as she lay on the ground, unable to move, her entire body screaming in pain. Fuck, this was bad. All she could do was hope that it had given Felix enough time. Tried to turn her head to look, but a scream from the other side of the room pierced her ears instead.

Erin.

“N-no,” Marley coughed, forcing her body against every protest to move, rolling over. Pain spiked through her chest, her side, her stomach, but she ignored it. Pushed herself up with her one good arm. “No…” She could see Roy’s hands, lifted up as if he were actually holding her head. She couldn’t see what was going on around Erin, but the way he was walking towards her, the way Erin was writhing in pain-- he was doing something to her. He was killing her. Marley’s entire stomach leapt into her throat. A fear like none other gripped her heart, shaking her to her core. Erin couldn’t die. She just-- couldn’t. Marley’s mind couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t figure that as an option. Erin didn’t deserve to die. She needed to live. She had to live. This wasn’t supposed to be how this ended. They’d fought for months for this, lost so much and so much-- this couldn’t be how this ended.

“No!” Her body moved on its own. She gave one last glance towards Felix, telling him with just a look to make sure he finished this. She would give them the opening to. That was her lot in this after all, wasn’t it? The distraction. The sacrifice. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought she’d find herself thinking that, let alone acting on it. She’d always lived for herself and no one else. Maybe this was to make up for all the bad shit she’d done, then. Maybe this was how she saved herself as well as Erin. Maybe this meant her life wasn’t for nothing. Her body barreled into Erin’s with a heavy step, knocking her out of the way. Shoving her far enough out of his reach that she wasn’t a part of this anymore. Her eyes locked with Roy’s as she felt the pressure lock on to her, increasing around her head. It pounded and tore and folded her up. She let out a groan of pain, the inside of her skull vibrating. Through the haze, she grinned. Blood was already trickling down and out her nose, her mouth, her ears. She needed to make sure he focused only on her. Make sure he forgot about Erin and Felix and everything else. If she could just get him to look at her in the eyes, if she could just get him to look.

“I bet he d-died a-alone and a-afraid,” she growled through the taste of blood, the increasing pain, “I bet he s-suffered.” Let it all egg her on. “All because of...me.” She fell to her knees, still looking up at him, waiting, but he wouldn’t look into her eyes. If this was it, then maybe it was worth it. Maybe her life had meant something after all. God, Anita was going to be so mad at her. “What’d his head look like, in that bad? Was it r-rotted by the time it got to you?” She swallowed a mouthful of her own blood, grinned through the blue staining her teeth, her lips. “All because I sent the hunters after hi--” but she never finished. The crack! of her skull echoed in the warehouse, and her eyes rolled up into the back of her head as her body crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

Roy’s magic cup runneth over and Felix felt greedy. His shadowy skin sizzled as he stepped between light and shadow. It was a matter of time before he was meant to meet the sun. Today wouldn’t be that day. As for Erin and Marley, it wasn’t their time for the sun to set on either of them. They had been through too much, hemorrhaged out people as well blood. The thought of Jane dead alone in the wounds, what she might be had she not been bitten. The second attempt on Bea’s life and the thought of her wrist cold, still under his thumb. Erin’s home had been reduced to ash. Bones had been broken. If it could have, his inhuman shadow would have overtaken the room that had been their sanctuary. As much as they had plotted, they had laughed too. Shared toasts to victories and sat in silence at their losses. Erin’s scream and Marley’s wheezes had him crossing the great distance between him and Roy. If to burn meant victory, he would step into the light unphased.

The air was thick with magic as he waded through it. There was so much of it. He could see the blood trickling from Marley’s face when he crossed over to Roy, the way she went still. His hands grabbed the fext’s face and violently tugged his head over to look at him. Wide, unblinking moons stared into the depths of Roy’s eyes. The fae clawed his fingers into the fext’s human face and as Felix hissed through his teeth, he drank. His blood sang, his grin widened to something monstrous. It felt good to so readily take power from the powerful. To watch them wither.

“Look at me, Chambers,” he said as his eyes flashed. “I wanna see your fucking light go out.”

It was like all at once, Erin’s humanness caught up with her, handicapping her into a near useless form on the playing field. The same one she’d been a formidable player in, behind the scenes, moving the pieces up until now. Her strategies and her will meant shit all with Roy Chambers in front of her. When he set his gaze on her, the powerlessness and the pain was uncomparable. Like someone squeezing her skull, making sure that she felt every ounce of pressure being applied with every grating second that passed. Couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even hear herself screaming. This was it. Checkmate. It was over. This would all be fucking over--

Suddenly, with a jolt and a hard shove from the side, it stopped. It wasn’t over. Not yet. But--no. Marley. Her senses were slowly unclenching, but blurry as everything was, she could see Marley screaming at Roy, falling to her knees. Blinked again. Saw the blood dripping down her chin and the sickening crack that followed.

Marley’s body went limp.

He didn’t--he couldn’t have--no, no, she wasn’t--

Ice filled her veins and red filtered her vision. She wanted to howl and scream, to rush to Marley’s side. Wanted to rip his throat right from his goddamn neck. Felix had beat her to him. Almost instantly, he was rendered motionless, the glow brightening Roy’s face. The knife. Where the fuck was the knife? The red cloth filled her vision just up head. It wasn’t far. Hope struck like lightning in her chest. Gave her the strength to crawl forward, aching ribs bellowing in protest. But her fingers wrapped around the hilt. She could do this. She had to do this. She glanced at Marley, like she was waiting for her to move, to get up, to keep fighting. She wouldn’t--couldn’t. Erin grit her teeth and kept moving.

That bitch. She’d gotten what was coming for her. Tommy would’ve loved the way she fell to her knees, how her gaze gleaned over as her body slumped to the floor. Would’ve eaten his full of the woman. But the satisfaction that came with the crack of Marley’s skull was short-lived. From the depths of the shadows, Felix reared into view and all Roy could see was that intense light. Held firm in his grip, there was no avoiding it. Ensnared like a fawn in a hunter’s trap. He howled, a rage building in him like nothing he’d ever felt. He lashed out, dug his fingers into the lampade’s eyes, what little of his mind that was still tethered in place fighting back. But it was too late. He shed his glamour completely, his decomposing form paling beneath the rays of sun trickling in.

With a resounding, inhuman roar, like an animal gone feral, he hurled Felix back. Magic. He still had some of his magic left. Much of it had been devoured but there was enough of it coursing through his fingertips to finish the job. A swipe of his hand and another crate flew threw the air, slamming into the lampade to keep him down. He stood in front of him, the throws of exhaustion slowing him down. Every little exertion mattered. His hands rose up, slowly, burning with all the magic he had left. “You first,” he growled, though his lips curved into a wicked smile.

“Will you shut the fuck up, already?”

Roy perked at the voice just behind him and then stilled, completely, jerking still with a throaty groan. Not another word. Erin had sunk the knife into his throat, pulled it out, and dug into the soft flesh of his temple. She didn’t have a chance to linger on how good it felt when he grabbed her wrist. It snapped in half with one twist as he flung her off of him. She watched from the ground as he pulled it out, stumbling forward, practically disintegrating before her eyes. He was reaching for her, arms outstretched, but she couldn’t quite meet him in the eyes. Rage burned in those black voids, darker than anything she’d ever seen. Even now it horrified her, sending her clambering backwards. With a final step, he launched himself at Erin, the last of his skin peeling, melting to the floor. Grabbed her ankle, he hauled his rapidly decaying carcass forward, sheer will and pure, unadulterated hatred fueling those last moments on earth.

He knew his time had come but even now, he refused to accept it, desperately clinging onto this plane until his body no longer gave him a choice. His eyes locked on hers when he finally, finally stopped moving.

Felix could see it. The snap, the slight unhinge of the mind. The disconnect. It had been awhile since that old familiar thrill sat on his shoulder and grinned with him. It was a comfort to have one of his oldest friends back in his time of need. Even when Roy rounded on him, tossed him aside like something weightless, he felt grounded. Whatever magic Roy had coursed through the fae, who clutched his wounded stomach and wounded head yet still grit his teeth. He knew he would remember this, the moment when Roy’s lights went out and failure greeted him like a proverbial knife to the throat. As the fext withered and looked at Erin with the eyes of a man who knew he was dying, the fae snapped his fingers and laughed. He wanted it to be among the last sounds Roy heard.

As much as he would remember the fall of Roy Chambers, he would also remember the ones who had started it. Memories were a gift and he vowed to himself as he looked at Erin and Marley, that they would never be forgotten as centuries came and went. The weight against him fell away and he brought himself to stand on shaky feet. He could taste dark blood in his mouth and he blinked rapidly to right himself. Roy Chambers was nothing more than lifeless meat and bone. Bone that might be useful. Profitable. What better way to honor an enemy than by profit. He went to Marley and as he carefully assessed her head, he looked at Erin with dim eyes. Looked past the pile of flesh that rotted into the ground. It’d be impossible to thoroughly clean up.

“Didn’t really go according to plan, huh?” His voice was quiet and ragged. He didn’t smile. “It’s done and done but we gotta get her outta here, Nichols.”

Roy was dead. Erin sunk the blade in herself, twice, and his lifeless corpse sat rotting before her eyes. She kicked away the bony hand clutching her ankle. He was still again. Eyes glued to him, waiting, watching, like she was merely biding time before he spring back to life. When that moment didn’t come and Felix’s voice finally reached her, it took all she had to pry her eyes away. Glass crunched under her as she slowly pulled herself to her feet. Only then did she register the unnatural slack in her wrist and how it screamed in protest at the slightest movement. Her chest stung and every breath felt pricked like knifes against her ribs. Roy was dead. It was done. Felt like more than her brain could properly process, not when--Marley. Fuck. The icy fear that consumed her when she heard that sickening crack returned with a fury. They couldn’t stay here. Felix was right. Erin nodded, the world and most words not coming back to her as quickly as she needed it to. Roy was dead. It was the only thing truly processing, repeating over and over. As if she thought those three words long and hard enough, comfort or relief or anything would follow.

No, no--she didn’t have time for this. Marley didn’t have time for this. Felix wasn’t looking too hot himself but he probably fared better than either of them. “Can you drive?” She asked, rushing to Marley’s side. Still breathing. That was good. That was a good sign. Right? Fuck. Fuck. “Marley?” She called out to her, touching her cheek, willing her to wake up. Nothing. “You don’t get to tap out now, alright? You promised. We see this through to the end. Remember? You promised.” Dread built in her gut. She’d pushed her out of the way, took the blow. That could have been Erin. Should have been Erin.

Roy was dead but that black fire still roared in her chest, as ugly and hot as ever as she helped Felix carefully lift her unconscious body. Panic swelled alongside fear, gripping her so hard she could barely breathe. Roy was gone and this had to be worth it. This all had to be worth it.

#wickedswriting #chatzy #chatzy: marley #chatzy: felix #chatzy: roy #the four horsemen #gun use tw #head trauma tw

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chxseungyoun · 6 years

Text

Chen Linong ✨ 》

Pairing: Hufflepuff! Linong x Hufflepuff! Reader

Genre: Fluff! Hogwarts! AU

Word Count: 3.2 K

Growing up with Chen Linong is probably the best thing you could have asked for. Just imagine being able to have a best friend at an early age and sharing the same secret you two had to keep in school. Being a witch and wizard was not something you two would have wanted but it was also not something you disgraced.

“I can’t believe my two babies are finally going to Hogwarts!” You can recall Linong’s mother pulling you both into an embraced with your Hogwarts acceptance letter in hand. Linong gave you a gentle smile which was normal for whenever he would apologize for his mother’s antics. Linong was quite mature for his age and you had always looked up to him for that.

Not long after did you two start shopping in Diagon Alley. You were, of course, supervised by your parents. They were more thrilled for when you two got your letters. Your parents would settle in buying the books and cauldrons while you and Linong had set forth to Olivander’s. The moment you two received your wands was quite magical as well. Olivanders himself has said that your wands possessed unicorn coming from the same mare. It was almost as though it had been fated for you two.

At the end of the trip, your parents had gave you both an owl thinking it would be a smart decision for when you need to send them mail. What do you expect from two Ravenclaw couples, right? They would think ahead. You were thankful for them because it were not for them then how would the two of you survive.

Moving on to the rest of your life in Hogwarts, you and Linong had both been sorted into Hufflepuff. Since Linong was the first to get sorted, you had whispered continuously to the hat to sort you in with Linong. Oh how thrilled was he when he had you sit next to him. Your closeness has stirred a few teasing from the upper years since you two seem really bonded to one another.

“If I weren’t aware, I would probably think you two were dating then.” Zhengting, then third year, now sixth year commented as he recalled the two of you.

It had been three years since you two had stayed in Hogwarts and everything had been going well. You two were still close as ever and your friendship could not get any stronger.

“We aren’t.” You two would simultaneously reply.

“Mhm. We’ll see.” Zhengting gave you two a suspicious grin before attending to his Gryffindor girlfriend.

It had been a custom almost that you two would always get teased. Not that either of you minded because deep inside of you, you knew that it was just too impossible to be so. Both you and Linong had had a few connections to some of the students. Connections, which Linong chose to ignore because he just did not find interest in dating, or so you thought.

Then there was you, who had a few crushes. You may have even jumped from one Ravenclaw to one Gryffindor. Nothing serious, since like Linong, you did not act on anything that connected to romantic relations.

It was until you grew a little interest in a Slytherin. Lin Yanjun. His name rolled out your tongue quite often which would just rended Linong nodding to you. Linong was not quite fond with Yanjun ever since their first encounter. Yanjun had almost hexed Linong and he would never let the leave his mind. He was a bit annoyed with how inconsiderate you were being since you knew about the story.

“Bu he’s so dreamy~” You chimed as your leaned your cheek against Linong’s shoulder.

“More like a nightmare.” Linong rolled his eyes as he went back to reading on care for magical creatures.

“Come on, nongnong…that was one time.” You pouted as you nuzzled your cheek against his shoulder.

“One time is enough for me to dislike him, You should be careful as well, y/n. Not all Slytherins are worth being fantasized about.”

“Except for the cold prince, Lin Yanjun.” You grinned and he sighed.

He had closed his book and stood up, leaving you confused because he would always leave with you. The rest of those who were sitting across from the two of you also seem confused. “I’m leaving first.” He said as he exited the great hall.

“What’s wrong with him?” One of your fellow Hufflepuffs asked.

“Beats me.”

Meanwhile, on his way to the library, Linong had recalled his recent encounter with the so-called prince of Slytherin.

“I heard your girl is crushing on me. Should I go for it and steal her away from you?” Lin Yanjun smirked while the rest of his friend cluster snickered at Linong.

“You are not going to do anything to her and she is not my girl. Linong tried to pass them but what Yanjun said next had him stopped in his tracks.

“But you wish to be. I can get her easily while she refuses to be with the person she grew up with. Pity.” Yanjun spat before he left with his friends.

He was right, how could he even protect you away from the person you liked despite knowing how he was nothing but bad news. He was also right about wanting to be wanted by you but he had pushed that thought aside.

“I just need to keep her away. That’s all I need to do.” He mumbled to himself.

The next few days, you had noticed that Linong had been a mix of hot and cold with you. One moment he would be ignoring you and the other he would be talking to you about any topic under the skies. There were also times where you thought, Yanjun wanted to approach you but would switch ways when he saw Linong sitting next to you.

“Did something happen again with Yanjun?” You asked him as he wrote down on his parchment.

“No, nothing important.” He sighed softly as he pushed his platter of grapes towards you, knowing it was your favorite.

“But there had been something..don’t you wanna tell me what it is?” You frowned as you picked up a piece to feed him.

As he chewed on it, he had pondered if he should try the idea he had to keep Yanjun away but he was just not as courageous as a Gryffindor to do so. It was until he saw them laughing again which caused him to take you away from the great hall by hand.

Your cheeks had flushed red when he did so. The truth is, Yanjun was just a means for you to hide your real feelings for Linong. You had actually realized that you may have had tiny crush on him during your second year at Hogwarts. You thought that it would repel the teasings that were done towards the two of you if he was aware that you ‘liked’ someone else.

How did Yanjun come about? Of all the guys? What Linong did not know is that when he tried to hex him, you had punched Yanjun square to his chest. Since he likes feisty girls, this instantly gave room for you to be friends when Linong was not around. You had also managed to convince him to apologize by helping in your secret of liking him. Thankfully, he was not smart enough to connect how this would get him to be forgiven.

“Look, Yanjun is bad news, y/n.” He started as he slowly let go of your hand. “He plans to hurt you through me and I can’t let that happen.” He explained.

“W-what..?” You actually did not plan for it to come out this way but regardless, you chose to listen to him.“The only way I can protect you is ni dating you.” He sighed and rubbed his nape awkwardly. “Like..just to get him off. Like..not really dating but pretend dating.”

To be honest, every word he added just stung you a little. He had finally asked you on a date but it was all just pretend until he assures that you would not get hurt. You agreed to this proposition, knowing that there was a possibility for you to get even more hurt.

So, it then began. You and Linong would always come into the great halls with your hands held and fingers intertwined. His palm was warm and soft and it gave you a sense of familiarity which you would not dare tell him You did not have too because he felt the same. Your cheeks were both in the shade of pink as you two sat at the Hufflepuff table.

“FINALLY?” Zhengting clasped his hands together as he smiled at both of you like a loving parent.

“ARE YOU TWO TOGETHER NOW?” A Gryffindor named Justin asked as he came from behind Zhengting.

Being too shy to respond, Linong did it for you by nodding at him with a soft smile plastered on his lips.

“Darn it.” Justin frowned as he placed two gold coins in front of Zhengting. “I can’t believe I lost the bet.”

“You were betting on us..?” You frowned at Zhengting who only responded with a hum.

“Who wasn’t to be honest?” He grinned as he snuck the coins into his robe’s pockets. “Everyone was expecting it to happen anyway.”

This made you two slightly flustered. You felt Linong giving your hand a gentle squeeze to somehow comfort you. He knew how easily you get embarrassed when you were the topic and that was his way of assuring you that you will be alright.

“You two should just see how you used to look at one another. You always looked like one was unreachable but look at you two now.” Zhengting smiled softly and quickly pinched both of your cheeks.

It was harder this way, with Zhengting, since you two had to keep the act up now in the common room. You two would sit next to one another, huddled in a blanket as you both studied for whatever subject you had the following day. There had been times where you would pass out from exhaustion and just sleep against Linong’s chest.

“Need any help?” Kaihao, Linong’s close Hufflepuff friend asked as he watched the two of you.

Linong was just mesmerized by your sleeping face. Even if he had seen it for countless of times, he was never not enticed by it. He gave Kaihao a soft smile before shaking his head. “You go ahead.”

Linong would gently stroke your hair to help you sleep better. Oh, how he had longed to have you in his arms this way. He wanted to keep this memory forever because he knew somehow that this memory would eventually have to end.

“Y/n, why can’t you just love me instead?” He would ask your sleeping figure, but he never received a response.

What you two didn’t know was that Zhengting was aware of your situation. He had been friends first with Yanjun before you all did. Yanjun had explained all he knew and he just needed Yanjun one last time to help get the two of you together.

So it was weird when you found Yanjun waiting for you just outside the common rooms the next day. Linong had pulled you behind him as he looked down at Yanjun who was a few centimeters shorter than he was. “What do you want?”

“Simple. I heard that this relationship thing was all fake to keep me from asking y/n out.” Yanjun crossed his arms.

“N-nonsense..” You replied and mouthed a ‘What are you doing?’ at Yanjun when Linong had started to glare at him.

“We are dating and it’s none of your business.” Linong said sternly, a side of him that you had never seen before.

“Prove it then. Kiss her.” Yanjun cocked an eyebrow, challenging this so-called act.

Linong took in a deep breathe as he glanced at you. He did not want you to feel uncomfortable around him but in his mind, If he did not do it, then that would give more room for you to get hurt by Yanjun. He mouthed an apology at you first before he took your cheeks into his hand and pressed a soft kiss to your cherry tinted lips.

Your eyes widened at the act. You were sure that he was not going to do it but as soon as he did, you could have sworn to have heard your heart going wild inside your chest. Your cheeks had sure gotten warm and you had hoped Linong would not notice. Your mind was slowly malfunctioning and if it had been any longer, your knees would have probably gave in.

When he pulled away, you two noticed that Zhengting had ruffled the Slytherin’s hair while staring at the two of you. “I hope with that, you two would stop this act and actually get together.” Zhengting smiled before leaving with Yanjun.

You two were having a difficult time processing what had just happened. You two kissed, Yanjun and Zhengting seem to have deviced this trick and now you two were being told to come clear with your feelings. Unfortunately, you two were just both too afraid to face the situation which caused you two to break away from one another.

It had been gloomy in whichever room you two were in. You avoided talking to one another nor even sparing a glance. Zhengting was almost wondering if he had messed something up but he knew that time had a big factor to play in this.

“Talk to her. You have to.” Kaihao told Linong as he had sat in the old place which you used to sit in.

“What if she does not want to?” Linong asked as he stared into the crackling flame from the fireplace.

“You still have to. Let go and be brave, Linong. That’s a characteristic not only limited to Gryffindor.”

Linong knew he was right but he was scared that if he had finally confessed, you would probably leave him for good. Was he ready to rely on the memories you had to keep him sane through it? He was just not so sure.

It was on Christmas day, when you and Linong had to suffer an incredibly awkward train ride back home. You two always celebrated Christmas together and you knew that you two somehow had to act that everything had been alright between the two of you. You had helped prepare in cooking while Linong and your fathers helped in decorating the houses to keep it in spirit.

It was festive as always and you tried your hardest not to seem awkward. Unfortunately, your parents made reservations for a seminar after the feast. You and Linong both did not want to go since you dreaded what most Ravenclaws enjoyed. You two opted to just stay at your respective houses but as usual, Linong’s parents asked him to take care of you while they were out.

You two were both on the couch, trying not to make each other’s presence known. It was difficult because you did miss talking to him but you have become too anxious to even to face the elephant in the room. Linong had shared the same sentiments. He missed hearing your voice as you enthusiastically told him stories about your day.

It just so happened that you two glanced at one another at the same time and averted your eyes as fast as you could. Your cheeks both turned pink from that one look.

“Let’s watch a movie instead?” He coughed as he tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“Sure.”

Now, maybe you two were cursed but all the channels on the muggle television only showed romantic Christmas stories which made you two awkwardly shuffle in your seats. Linong chose to just close the television and sighed. You turned your head to the window and your eyes instantly lit up as you saw snow falling outside.

“It’s snowing…” You said dreamily before looking at Linong.

“Wanna play outside?” He smiled softly. He knew how much you adored the snow.

After gearing up in your thickest sweaters and scarves, the two of you started roaming around the backyard. The snow was a bit heavy hence it rapidly filled the garden. You plopped yourself down on the snow and laughed. “I love winter.”

“You just love snow…be careful not to get sick, y/n.” Linong said as he tried to catch a snowflake on his red mittens.

“Oh come on, Nongnong! You love the snow too~” You called out as you flailed your arms against the white matter to create snow angels.

There was great satisfaction in him when he heard you call him by the nickname you had bestowed on him. He then plopped himself next to you and smiled. “I do..it’s fun even if it’s cold.”

You turned to face him and he did the same. For some moment, you both had stared into one another’s eyes which made you move away instantly and just stared at the dark clouds.

“Y/n…?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you think of me? Am I..better than Yanjun?” Linong asked, not looking at you. It almost seemed as though he had been asking the dark skies.

“You’re the best.” You answered quietly.

“Will you be alright with dating me for real then..?”

You were quiet. Was he really asking you out this time? None of the pretense? You remained silent as you hoped he would continue to explain.

“Did you really like Yanjun or did you have him trick me into something..?” He then began and guilt suddenly dawned on you. He was right. For a Hufflepuff, you kind of played Linong.

He watched as your face became sullen. He sat up and looked back at you. “I’m not mad.” You sat up as well, knees pulled close to your chest.

“Why not..? I felt like I did something that’s worth a thousand hexes..” You frowned at him.

“You didn’t have to do anything because I’ve liked you ever since we were kids.” He inched closer to you. “You could have just told me you felt the same way so I wouldn’t have to get mad at Yanjun and possibly slip in a puking pastel into his goblet before we left for home.” Linong coughed.

Maybe you two did share a common trait of being a little evil. He started laughing made you laugh along with him. It had been so long until you two had shared fits o laughter. When you two had regained yourselves, he stared at you and gently tapped on your nose.

“It’s getting red, we should go inside.” He hummed as he pulled you up along with him, but your clumsy self slipped and took Linong down with you.

And there went your second kiss, but this time…Linong did not pull away and neither did you. It was worse enough to keep your friendship at bay but to suppress your feelings for one another was worst. It lasted for a few more seconds before he pulled away and smiled at you. “We need to explain a lot to our parents.”

“Maybe later~” You smiled as you pulled him for your third kiss.

It was all amazing until you both caught fevers the next day.

#nine percent imagine #nine percent scenario #nine percent imagines #nine percent #nine percent scenarios #idol producer #idol producer imagines #idol producer scenarios #idol producer scenario #idol producer imagine #linong #chen linong #nongnon #linong imagine #linong scenario

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years

Text

It’s Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Part 3

"Man...every year, this town gets lamer and lamer," Rivers complained, as he ate more candy.

"You're telling me. It's not even that fun stealing candy from the kiddies anymore. Wish we could blow this stupid town for a place like New York," Carny agreed, as he stuffed his face with more of the candy that they had bullied from several little kids, just as Yzma rounded the corner.

"Curse that insipid Snow White...she ruins everything," Yzma complained.

"Whoa...get a load of the hag. That's one hideous costume," Rivers commented.

"No joke…" Carny agreed.

"I'll have you know, you stupid punks, that this is no costume," Yzma informed them. This caused them both to bust up laughing.

"Damn...then you got hit by the ugly bus," Carny said.

"Yeah...at least you waited until it was dark to come out!" Rivers added.

"That's it...I'm sick of the hag and dinosaur quips," Yzma snapped, as the two idiots disappeared in puffs of yellow smoke. They reappeared hanging upside from a light pole outside Gold's pawn shop.

"Ahhhhh!" Rivers screamed.

"Let us down!" Carny pleaded. Yzma smirked in satisfaction, as she waltzed into the shop to find Fiona brewing a potion in a cauldron.

"Is it almost ready?" she questioned. Fiona gave her a sharp glare.

"It is...but it doesn't do any good without any children!" she snapped.

"I tried to lure them to me, but they wouldn't come!" Yzma countered.

"That's because your face is far more frightening than any Halloween mask ever could be," Fiona retorted.

"Hello dahlings…" Cruella called, as she swished into the shop. Fiona sighed in frustration, as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"What part of don't return here without any brats don't you understand?!" Fiona cried.

"Sheriff Chisel Chin and his distasteful daughter spoiled my plan. I was going to use puppies to lure the brats to me and then make a magnificent coat out of them. But alas...they spoiled my fun, as usual," Cruella reported, as she smirked.

"But fear not...I have another plan," she said, as she left as quickly as she came.

"What do you want me to do?" Yzma asked.

"Continue the brewing process, since I'm clearly going to have to do the hard part myself," Fiona said, as she disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

"Let us down!" Rivers pleaded.

"All the blood is rushing to my head!" Carny complained.

"I think I'm gonna puke!" Rivers warned. Yzma chuckled evilly.

"That's what nasty boys get," she hissed.

~*~

David and Emma hurried along the streets of Storybrooke, as Trick or Treating was in full force, even though it was getting quite late. The holidays were always a big deal in Storybrooke though and trick or treating events peppered the town every year on this night. It was just about the only night that was acceptable for children to be out so late. They were supposed to be enjoying it too right now with the little ones, before going to the Halloween party later, but crisis had once again struck their town.

"Where do you think she went?" Emma questioned.

"It's hard to say with her...they need kids and kids are everywhere tonight," he replied. Then Emma had a thought.

"Archie and Marco were going to set up a face painting and costume contest at the old castle playground tonight! It's going to be a big draw," she said.

"I bet that's where she is," he agreed, as they took off running for the park.

~(~

When they arrived, they hard Marco angrily telling someone off.

"You...get out of here! This is no place for your evil!" Marco cried, as Archie was trying to keep all the children back. As expected, Cruella was there...in a costume. And not just any costume, but a Snow White costume, complete with a bad wig. And she was still wearing her monstrosity of a fur coat as well. Fortunately, her mother had never worn anything remotely close to her movie counterpart, but it was still an unsettling sight.

"But I'm Snow White...come little children. We can have such fun together," she cooed, but they all shied away from her.

"Cruella!" David shouted, as she looked up.

"Oh...there you are, dahling. What do you think?" she asked, gesturing to her outfit.

"This is what you're into, right?" she questioned, as she walked toward them.

"Seriously...did you actually think a bad costume would lure children to you?" Emma questioned. Cruella huffed.

"Well, it was worth a shot, but the little beasts are stubborn. Guess I'll just have to force the little brats to come with me," she replied.

"You're not going anywhere with any kids," David refuted.

"Anger is such a delicious color on you, dahling," she cooed, as she moved into the street.

"Unfortunately...I'm going to have to take care of you and your meddlesome daughter," Cruella hissed, as her hands glowed with green magic and she prepared to launch the attack at them. David put his arm in front of Emma, ready to take the blow for his daughter. But he wouldn't have to, for a white SUV sped toward the two toned witch and hit her head on. Cruella cried out in terror and went flying and flailing through the air, before landing in a heap of fur several feet away. David and Emma grinned, as Snow got out of the car with Leo, Henry, and Violet.

"Nice one, Mom," Emma complimented.

"Thanks sweetie," she said, as she kissed her husband.

"That was incredible...you're amazing," he said, as their lips parted.

"I thought you'd like that," she replied, as Cruella screamed in frustration, as she pulled herself to her feet. She was disheveled and her fur coat was torn and stained.

"Oh...you horrible retch! You ruined my beautiful coat!" she whined. Snow rolled her eyes.

"Mark my words...I will have the last laugh!" she promised, before disappearing. Unfortunately, their problems were just beginning, as Regina and Robin hurried to them.

"We have a big problem," she said.

"That's a bit of an understatement," David deadpanned.

"What's going on?" Snow asked.

"It's the other two and I'm sure Cruella is joining them. We saw them going into town hall where the party is," Regina replied.

"But why would they bother with that party? There's no kids there," Emma said.

"I don't know, but we better go," Snow said, as they all got into Snow's car.

~*~

The three witches laughed hysterically, as they came out of Town Hall.

"Oh, that was so much fun...you have quite a singing voice, dahling," Cruella commended.

"Thank you...lyrical spells are flashy, but fun," Fiona agreed, as they saw the Charmings hurrying toward them.

"You're too late...I've put all the other adults in Storybrooke under my spell," Fiona said.

"And she was magnificent!" Yzma added.

"She literally put a spell on them with a song! And now they'll dance until they die!" Cruella cackled.

"It doesn't matter...your spell will break when you become dust again!" Henry refuted. Fiona smirked at him.

"And do you really think that you can protect every child in Storybrooke, young one? Especially now that most of the adults are otherwise...occupied?" she questioned. Henry frowned and she laughed.

"Split up, my sisters...and bring me whatever child you can find! The time to try and lure them to us is over! Take them by force if you have to!" Fiona ordered. David drew his sword.

"We'll stop you!" he warned. She glowered at him.

"You'll try...and fail!" she promised, as the three of them disappeared.

"Ugh...how are we going to keep track of them when they keep doing that and we can't," Leo complained.

"We have to track the old fashioned way. We have the best tracker right here," David said, as he smiled at Snow. She smiled back.

"And we have Wilby too," she reminded.

"I'll go get him," Leo said, as he hurried off.

~*~

Eva smiled, as she checked on her little siblings. They were asleep on a couple of cots they had set up for the night with the other children under their watch.

"Out like a light," Paul said, as he smiled at the sight.

"Mmm...and no tummy aches, which is a miracle, considering how much candy they both ate," she replied.

"You're really good with them…" he mentioned.

"I enjoy the pediatrics ward too," she agreed, as he leaned in to kiss her. Eva closed her eyes, as he pressed his lips to hers and they smiled when their lips parted. Unfortunately, Eva screamed then, as Fiona tossed her boyfriend away and he hit the wall.

"Paul!" she cried, as she tried to run to him, but the Black Fairy froze her in place.

"Sorry kitten...but I need a child and I can't think of any other that I'd rather suck dry than your brat of a little sister," Fiona said, as she strode toward Summer, who was awake now, thanks to the ruckus. The other children, including Bobby, were awake too now. But Fiona paid them no mind and Summer screamed, as she grabbed her.

"Say goodbye to little sister," she hissed, before disappearing.

"No!" Eva cried, as she could move again, but it was too late.

"Eva...what's gonna happen to Summer?" Bobby whimpered. She picked her baby brother up, just as Paul groaned.

"Don't worry...Mommy and Daddy will save her," she promised, before hurrying to Paul, as he got up.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"No...just dazed. I'm fine," he promised.

"She took Summer," Eva cried.

"We'll get her back...let's go find your parents," he said. She nodded, as they hurried off, taking Bobby with them.

~*~

"Ugh...I feel so sick!" Rivers complained.

"I can't feel my head anymore," Carny whined. It was well after midnight now and nearing morning now, but it couldn't be too soon for the two bullies. They spotted Henry and Violet hurrying to the shop with his family.

"Nolan! Nolan!" Rivers called.

"Thank God Someone is here...please you gotta help us!" Carny pleaded.

"Really? Help you after you bullied me?" Henry questioned.

"We're really sorry…" Rivers pleaded.

"Yeah dude please...let us down. I'm gonna puke my guts out," Carny complained.

"We've got bigger problems than this. But I will do one thing," Henry said, as they looked hopeful. But Henry simply took back his jacket that Rivers was wearing.

"Thanks," Henry said, as he hurried inside the shop, as the two bullies expressed their frustration in groans.

"They've been bullying you?" Emma questioned.

"It's not really a good time to talk about this, Mom," Henry replied.

"Fine...but we're talking about it when this is over for sure," Emma said sternly. He sighed and put his jacket back on.

"This must be the potion," David said, as they approached the cauldron, which was bubbling with a green liquid.

"Tsk tsk...dahlings," Cruella goaded, as she blasted them all back with green magic. She smirked at them and zapped David again.

"You...there…" she purred, as he was picked up and them slammed against one of the walls.

"Yes...that's better," Cruella cooed, as she ran a gloved hand along his face.

"Touch him again and I'll shred that monstrosity of a coat you're wearing," Snow growled. Cruella smirked.

"She does have a lot of spunk. I suppose I can see what you see in her. Except all the goodness and birds and such," she said distastefully, as Yzma walked into the shop, limping.

"Weren't you supposed to find a child?" Cruella asked.

"Those little brats...they all run and scream. And the ones that don't kick really hard," she complained.

"You know, it's nearing dawn. Guess you'll all soon be dust after all," David said smugly.

"Shh dahling...just be quiet and look pretty," Cruella purred, as she started petting his face, much to his disgust.

"He's right...you're going to lose," Snow promised.

"I think it's time to shut you up permanently, princess," Yzma hissed.

"I agree...I told you I'd put you back in your glass coffin, Snow White," Cruella agreed.

"Leave her alone!" David growled, but neither listened, as they took Snow by the arms and dragged her to the counter.

"You know...since we have all the magic, we could have some fun," Yzma suggested.

"What do you have in mind?" Cruella asked with intrigue.

"Well...princess here loves her birds. Perhaps she'd like to become one...for eternity," Yzma seethed. Snow's eyes widened, as her hand became alive with magic. Fortunately, she wouldn't be able to finish the spell, as she was suddenly belted with a crowbar. Regina stood there smugly and Cruella backed away.

"Stay back...you have no powers here!" she said, as her magic wore off and allowed the others to move.

"Thanks Regina," Snow said, as Cruella circled with them. David smirked, as he pushed the cauldron toward her. She tried to steady it, but as it swung back toward him, he pushed it harder. Yzma groaned, as she got up, but it was too late. Together, David and Henry dumped the cauldron on the two witches. They cried out in horror and pain.

"Look at what you've done to my beautiful coat! It's ruined even more now!" Cruella cried.

"Your coat?! That's what you're worried about? Fiona is going to kill us! There's no time to make more potion!" Yzma screamed.

"You idiots!" Fiona roared, as she stormed into the shop. Snow cried out though, as the woman had their little girl.

"Summer!" they cried.

"Mommy...Daddy...help!" she pleaded.

"Let her go...please!" Snow cried, as David held her.

"You have no potion left...it's over. Just let her go!" David cried. Fiona smirked evilly, as she picked up the wooden spoon that they had been using to stir the potion.

"Wrong...there is just enough left for one child and this is the one," she said, as Summer kicked and screamed.

"Open your mouth, brat!" she growled and then cried out, as Summer bit her hand. She dropped the girl and David swept her up, before they started running. Fiona seethed, as she put the remaining potion in a vial.

"Follow them...I want that little brat!" Fiona roared, as the other two witches scurried out and she followed.

~*~

"How are we going to hold them off until the sun comes up?" Emma wondered. They were almost there, but with them having magic, it was still going to be difficult to evade them for long. Robin's eyes widened.

"The cemetery!" he cried.

"What?" Regina asked.

"It's sacred ground...those which have gone to the Underworld cannot set foot on hallowed ground," Robin recalled.

"But we've been to the Underworld," Henry reminded.

"Yes...but none of you were dead," Robin countered.

"It's worth a shot," Snow said, as they hurried to the graveyard. The three witches were right behind them, but stopped just short of the cemetery grounds. Fiona poofed three brooms into their hands.

"Nice try...but it still won't be enough!" Fiona called, as they took to the air and hovered over the graveyard.

"Yzma…" Fiona ordered, motioning her to the left.

"Cruella…" Fiona ordered again, motioning her to the right, while she flew down the center, setting her sights on Snow and Charming. They cried out, as the ground burst open beneath them and Snow became stuck. David tried pulling her free from the jagged ground, as Fiona closed in.

"Charming...go! Get Summer out of here!" Snow cried. He hated leaving her, but knew he had to protect their baby first. He let go of her hand and started running with Summer in his arms. Regina, Robin, and Leo were blasted away from helping him by Yzma, while Cruella blasted Emma, Henry, and Violet, just as Belle, Rumple, and Neal arrived.

Fiona cackled, as vines burst forth from the ground and wrapped around David.

"No!" he cried, as she snatched Summer away hovered above them.

"Open your mouth!" she demanded, as the girl kicked and screamed while she tried to get the potion down her. Henry managed to get up and picked up a rock. With great aim, he knocked the potion out of Fiona's hand. She cried out, as it fell to the ground.

"No…" she cried, as it was slowly getting lighter. She had but minutes.

"Give me that potion or my last act before I'm dust shall be to break her little neck!" Fiona threatened.

"No!" Snow and David cried. Henry looked at the potion in his hand and then back at the witch.

"No...if you want a kid...then you'll have to settle for me," he said, as he downed the sour potion.

"Henry no!" Emma and Neal cried, as their son was now glowing a urethral green. Fiona seethed and let Summer fall. David dodged and caught their little girl, as the witch grabbed Henry by the shirt and took to the air with him.

"Henry!" Emma and Neal cried, as he dangled from her broom and she attempted to suck on his life force. But more rocks pelted her and she dropped him, before being knocked off the broom. Henry landed beside the witch and she growled, as she crawled over to him. Grabbing him by the shirt, she lifted him up and attempted to resume sucking his life force away. But she was puzzled when it didn't work and as she looked to the east. The sun peeked over the horizon and she let out a shriek of agonized defeat.

"Well...this sucks…" Yzma deadpanned, as she exploded to dust.

"Oh poo…" Cruella pouted, as she exploded to dust next. Fiona screamed, as she was turned to stone. Henry broke away from her frozen clutches and covered his eyes, as Fiona's statue also then exploded to dust. It was over...the witches were dead again.

David hurried over and helped Snow from the broken ground. She hugged their baby and then her lips crashed against her husband's, which came as no surprise to anyone.

Emma and Neal hugged Henry fiercely, while Regina and Rumple each tested a fireball, ensuring that magic had returned and everything was back to normal.

"No more messing around with stuff in your grandfather's shop," Neal chided.

"I know...it was stupid. I'm sorry," he apologized, looking at them and his Grandpa Gold.

"We have all done foolish things, my boy. No hard feelings," Gold stated.

"Honey...why didn't you tell us that kids from school were giving you a hard time?" Emma questioned. He sighed.

"Because...they're just jerks that like to harass me, because…" he trailed off.

"Because of your family," Emma realized.

"And I know you'd all want to defend me and help, but trust me, it just would have made things worse. I can handle it better from now on though...I promise," he said. Emma nodded in acceptance and hugged him tightly. David and Snow smiled at them and then each other.

"Mommy...can we go home?" Summer asked.

"Yes, I think that's a good idea. We'll call Eva on the way home and have her come home with Bobby too," Snow replied, as Charming kissed her hair and then Summer's.

"Come on...now that things are back to normal, I say we hit Granny's up for breakfast, before we go home," David suggested. They all agreed, even though they were tired, no one had eaten since the day before. Emma and Neal put their arms around their son and followed her parents and his father through town. Once again, another crisis in Storybrooke had been averted and good had won out. Henry had learned several valuable lessons and had a new appreciation for the peace they now had. And for his family, for no matter what mistakes he made, he knew they would always have his back. No matter what he would face, his family would be there and he would never forget that. They were in this together and he would never hide his problems from them again. Whether the problem was magical or ordinary, Henry would never be alone in any fight and good and love would always prevail over evil...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming Family #Happy Halloween!#Hocus Pocus #the black flame candle #witches #the black fairy #yzma #cruella de vil #romance #adventure #family #humor #Hocus Pocus once-style

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trustmeimawitch · 6 years

Text

Home Sweet Fucking Home; backstory drabble (Aaron) one-shot

A/N: various triggers are contained within this drabble so read at your own discretion.

Thank you.

2005

Aaron got the call Thursday night, just twenty minutes before midnight, before he was due to meet a demon about shipment of magical artifacts. He canceled the meeting, caught the next flight out of Las Vegas without offering a single apology. Twelve hours later, he was home.

Or, what used to be his home.

New Ashton hadn't changed much. The city was still the same shithole it always was, cleverly disguised as an ambiguous sort of place, a geographical impossibility, a place where magical and supernatural shit was the norm. The place where he'd grown up, where they'd all grown up, wasn't a very forgiving place, even for those supernaturally inclined.

The years might've gone by, but the memories hadn't. At least some things had changed. Kay no longer lived at home. She had her own place, an apartment in a shitty little neighborhood, but it was as far across the city from their mother as could get. That seemed to work well for her, but Aaron had gone all the way across the country and that still didn't seem like far enough for him.

The other side of the world probably wouldn't be enough.

There was no way he would've come back if it wasn't for a good reason. The last time had been when Kay gave birth to CJ. And this time it was once again because of his half-sister, though the occasion this time wasn't joyous.

Despair tightened in the bottom of his stomach, coiled into a knot that wouldn't loosen. Barely past noon and he already wanted the day to end—fair enough, given he'd been awake for almost twenty-four hours now and sleep was no doubt too far away.

He took a bus from the airport to the bus station just outside the city limits, then he walked the rest of the way. As tired as he was, he couldn't sit still for a minute longer. The walking gave him something to do, gave him the opportunity to think, to smoke cigarette after cigarette, and soak in the midday sun that bore down on broad shoulders.

She was sick, she'd said. And she sounded like it too. She sounded god-awful tired, like every ounce of energy was being sucked out of her and it was a struggle for her to keep her head high. She wouldn't tell him what, so Aaron could only assume it was worse than a cold or the flu. She wouldn't be calling him if it was something like that. Kay had always been the one to get sick, and very sick at that, when they were kids. He and Jamie were demigods. Their blood, their lineage, it protected them from illnesses. Kay wasn't like them. All human. And get sick she did. Often. It wasn't a surprise to hear it now, but it still took his breath away.

She wouldn't have called him if it wasn't bad. The lack of details worried him, and he knew his sister didn't want to talk over the phone. He didn't have a choice but to come. If he hadn't—well, Aaron was enough of an asshole as it was. When it came to Kay, it was different. He wouldn't abandon her again, not when she so clearly wanted him there.

Her street wasn't very busy for an afternoon, and he made it up the steps to her apartment without anyone stopping him on the sidewalk, without being stopped—he almost wanted to be stopped. Delay the inevitable. Hold on to the few precious seconds he had before everything went to shit.

But there was no way to do that. As much as he hoped, Aaron had always been practical. Wishing, delaying—none of it was particularly helpful. A waste of time, a waste of energy. He composed himself before he rang the doorbell, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and resisting the urge to immediately light up a cigarette to calm his nerves.

He noticed it immediately when she opened the door. She looked thinner than the last time he saw her. Three years ago, thereabouts, when she and CJ had made the trip out to Vegas to stay with him for a week. She looked drawn, gaunt. The hollows of her eyes were dark, making the blue-green of them stand out—but even they seemed dulled. Kay's hair was shorter too, chopped off just below her ears.

She said nothing when she saw him there, immediately pulling him into a hug, face pressed against his chest. Her fists bunched into the fabric of his leather jacket, and she didn't let go even when he enfolded his warm arms around her. For a few seconds, there was nothing at all wrong. Everything was fine. Aaron was there and she was safe and warm. The world was right.

That all faded when reality snapped back. She relaxed her hands and closed her eyes. Tears wanted to fall but years of practice kept her from shedding them. Even so, she ended the hug long before she was ready, and feebly swiped at her eyes anyway.

And then her fist hit his chest, walloping him with all the strength she had—which, given the circumstances, wasn't much. “You could pick up the goddamn phone once in a while.”

The blow didn't do anything to him, but Aaron staggered back in the doorway anyway. A wry smile pulled at his face. He didn't have any good excuses for having not called her, or for why he didn't pick up whenever she did. He wanted to avoid anything to do with his family, to avoid the guilt of having left them behind. Avoiding it wasn't helpful in any sense, but it kept it out of the forefront of his mind, and that was good enough. He almost hadn't answered her call Thursday, but he had.

“I made an effort.”

“Not a strong one.”

“Fucking sue me.”

That earned a faint smile from her. Kay waved him into the door and shut it behind him. The locks slid back into place, but she took her time doing it, to gather her thoughts. A part of her hadn't expected him to come. She'd been fully prepared for his refusal, but Aaron was here now.

It was time to face the facts. This wasn't going to be easy. “You fly in?” She filled the silence with small talk as she walked the short distance to her kitchen, grabbing for an ashtray. Aaron had a cigarette out and lit before she even had it on the coffee table. “Of course you did. How else did you get here so fast?” But there were other ways, favors from demons or witches who could travel a large distance in a blink, but Kay dismissed that with a shake of her head.

Aaron didn't say anything, just watched his sister. She moved slowly, like she was in pain, everything she did was deliberate and careful from the way she sat down, to how she folded her arms over her chest when she leaned back, to how her fingers traced the burn scars on her upper arm—a remnant left over from childhood and his literally explosive outbursts. He took a long draw on the cigarette before he passed it to her. “Where's CJ?” he asked, expecting the kid to run out from one of the other rooms like a bat out of hell, but the place was silent. “She's what? Eight now or some shit?”

“Yeah, or some shit.” Her smile was thin but she took the cigarette and inhaled on it, letting the smoke join Aaron's a second later. “Amber's at school.” She put emphasis on her daughter's real name. Aaron always insisted on the nickname, as did Jamie. It was going to stick, Kay was sure of it, and that would lead to a fun discussion of how it stood for Cujo Junior and just why her brother thought it was funny to have nicknamed the bitey toddler after a fictional rabid dog. “It's Friday. She won't be home until three. Sorry.” It wasn't important though, not right now. Her daughter's absence gave her time to talk with Aaron alone.

“It's alright. I'll see her then.” What was a couple of hours compared to a few years? And CJ wasn't the reason he was here anyway. It was for Kay, and whatever it was she had to say. There was no sense in keeping up with the small talk—it had never suited them anyway. They'd never been one for mincing words anyway, not when it came to getting down to the important things.

Kay pressed her lips together, looking down at the cigarette between her fingers. Her hand shook as she brought it up for another drag. She passed it back to him and exhaled the smoke in a heavy sigh. “I'm dying.”

Silence. Aaron watched the smoke curl from the end of the cigarette, watched it go up toward the ceiling, where it vanished into nothing. He swallowed hard, kept his eyes trained there.

She watched him, waited for a response, waited to see how badly this would affect his control. The air was warm, but no warmer than it usually was within his or Jamie's presence. Her heart thudded loudly, a boom-boom boom-boom in her ears that drowned out all other sound. She realized she was holding her breath and she exhaled, tasting the tobacco and tar that lingered on her lips and tongue.

Finally, he moved, dropping his gaze from the ceiling and focusing ahead of him. “Shit.”

“I was diagnosed a while back. It's cancer. I--” Kay cut herself off, shifted some in her seat to better face him. “I was taking treatments but the doctor said that they're not working—”

“No.”

“--he says there's not a lot of time.” She ignored his protest. When he started to rise from her couch, she grabbed his wrist, even though his skin was hot to the touch. “You're not going to walk away, and you're not going to burn any of my shit, okay?” She spoke firmly, jaw set, eyes suddenly bright with intensity. “You're not walking the fuck away from me now. Do you understand?”

Her grip was tight on him, tighter than he expected. Instinct had him wanting to pull away, but when he heard the desperate plea in her voice, the vehemence within her look, he sat back down. This wasn't happening, he tried to tell himself, she couldn't be dying. She was only twenty-nine. Too young to die, too young for any of this shit.

“Do you understand?” she repeated. There were tears in her eyes now, glistening but unshed. Her composure had been tentative at best, and it was now crumbling apart. She had wanted to be strong for this, but she wasn't. “Jamie can't help me. Jamie's—he's on the brink of losing his own shit.” She didn't need to explain to him how much she relied on Jamie's help. They had always been close, had always supported each other. His young brother had always had his own problems, and it was clear that they were getting in the way of looking out for Kay, looking out for their niece. “I can't rely on him. I can't put that pressure on him. I don't know what to do, Aaron. I'm running out of people I can call on. I can't—Mason's out of the fucking question. And there's no way in hell I'm getting Mom involved. It's us, right?” She looked up at him. “It's always been us. The three of us against the fucking world, right?”

But I left. I left you and Jamie and I swore I was done. I couldn't face it. I couldn't fucking face myself. I can't do this. The words ran through his head, but he couldn't voice them. For once, he was speechless, trying to make sense of everything she had said. He had to understand it, process it. It was worse than being smacked in the gut. “Fuck.”

What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? His anger was palpable, leaving a heavy aura in the room. The heat was steadily climbing, but Kay didn't let go of him. “I don't want this,” he heard himself murmur, his voice low.

“No one wants this.” Her voice was quiet too. Her fingers eased away from his wrist, drawing across her face. She pushed away the tears that had fallen. “I can't do it alone. I don't know what to do after—when I--” Her breath came out shaky. Fingers combed through her hair, gripping it for a moment before she dropped it. She had calmed down some, resigned to the fact life had handed them all shitty cards and that there wasn't much they could do about it. “We need you, Aaron. That's all there is to it. We need you.”

The cigarette between his fingers had burned down and Aaron leaned forward automatically to crush it out. Without thinking, he had another one from the pack, blazing before it came to his lips. He took one long drag, then another. The nicotine did nothing for his nerves, nothing to soothe his mind so he could think.

For once in his life, he realized, he could do the right thing. It wasn't what he'd pictured with his life, and it was a blow he hadn't quite processed completely yet, but there were some things he knew with certainty—if Kay needed him, if CJ needed him, if Jamie needed him, there was no way Aaron could turn his back on them now.

There was a lump in his throat that made swallowing difficult. It was going to take time to come to terms with it. It would take time for him to understand, to figure out what to do, but time might not be on their side. He had to do this like he did everything else—headfirst, little hesitation.

He let the cigarette drop into the ashtray before he turned to Kay. Her eyes were fixed on her hands now, where she pulled at her fingers. When he took her hands, she stilled them. One look at his face, and she understood his new resolve. She tried to smile, but if failed. When her tears came, she didn't try to stop them and neither did Aaron. He put his arms around her, drew her close, let her cry. It was what she needed right then, and he gave that to her. There was very little question now what he wouldn't do for his family.

A weight lifted from her when she sank again into his arms. Her troubles were far from over, but the burden had now shifted. Aaron was going to help her, help them. The certainty of that was all it took to ease her mind and soul. She could rest now, for the first time in months.

When she withdrew from the embrace this time, she murmured her apologies for having cried into his t-shirt, but Aaron didn't seem to notice the wetness or care that it stung his skin. He just shrugged, picked up the remainder of his cigarette, and got right down to it. “Guess I'm gonna have to find a fucking place to live. Get a fucking job. Shit. I'm gonna have to go legit, ain't I?”

Kay's chuckle was humorless. “Looks like.”

“Home sweet fucking home.”

#drabble #.Aaron.#headcanons #Mikayla (NPC)#Aarondrabble #aaron's headcanons #long post #long post tw #c; Mikayla (NPC)

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jessejackreyes · 6 years

Text

Written after the whole Jeff reveal. Also on (ao3)

Echos

“Oy! Gabrielito!”

A headache. That’s apparently what was on the agenda for the day. A huge headache. He groaned at the realization, knowing full well that Sombra would bother him repeatedly and obnoxiously until he gave her the attention she wanted and he was in no mood to deal with that at the moment. So instead, he simply turned towards her, hoping it would be over quickly.

“What?” His irritated tone did nothing to dissuade her, it never did. She was too cocky for her own good.

“I got something to show you,” She waved a tablet in the air as she spoke.

“I’m not in the mood,” He grumbled, hoping in vain that she would just drop it.

“Not even if it has to do with your little soldado?” His anger flared enough for him to see red. He could hear the smug smirk as she spoke, as his body began smoking softly. It was a struggle to keep himself from lashing out.

“Don’t test me!” He growled.

“Oh relax Gabi, I have something that I’m sure you will want to see,” He really didn’t like that tone. It always meant she was about to do something that he was going to regret.

“I’m busy,” He growled out, trying to dismiss her.

“No you’re not,” She answered back simply, gesturing for him to follow. He debated responding in several ways: simply leaving, strangling her, exploding dramatically into a dark cloud. In the end he simply followed the annoying woman, it would keep her from harassing him for days until he gave in just to shut her up.

They made their way away from everyone else, all the way to Sombra’s little corner of the base. Here, at the very least they would have an impressive level of privacy. It was very difficult to spy on someone as skilled and paranoid as their resident little hacker. This also meant that she intended for whatever was going to happen to stay between the two of them. She didn’t say another word until they were in the safety of her little workshop.

“Let’s just get this over with,” He growled as the door closed behind them. “What did you want?”

“I was trawling around the UN and I found some recordings that you will find interesting,” He caught the tablet she tossed his way. “You may find it very relevant to that little soldado of yours,”

He doesn’t rise to the obvious bait, instead simply turning his focus to the video file that she had left open. It was frozen, staring into a room full of people that he recognized. First was Jack, wearing his bright blue dress uniform, hair white before it’s time. The rest of them were various members of the UN, Adawe, Woerner, Soueng, Faraji, Juarez, and last and least, Petras. This must have been some kind of meeting about the shit going on with Overwatch at the time. Instead of speculating further, he simply pressed play.

“With all due respect director,” Jack’s voice was forceful and commanding in a room full of people who were clearly not used to dealing with the man like this. “Commander Reyes has served with distinction and has gotten exemplary results for almost two decades in a very thankless job,” The man had the attention of the entire council, even Petras, though he was clearly unhappy to be being challenged.

“His service record is not in question at the moment,” The man replied, interrupting the strike commander forcefully. “This is an unmitigated disaster and we need to act.”

“I agree,” Jack replied calmly. “However, I don’t believe throwing one of our most skilled and devoted men under the bus is the appropriate response.”

“I understand that you and commander Reyes have a very long history, but we can’t simply let everything he does go because you like him,” The condescension in the director’s tone was almost as telling as the sneer he was clearly hiding.

“I was unaware that there were other allegations against commander Reyes right now,” Jack replied sharply, challenging the other man to produce such claims.

“There is nothing official, but we have all heard the rumors,” Petras returned somewhat noncommittal.

“What rumors?”

“Supporting Dr. O’Deorain’s research is the most recent.”

“There is absolutely no evidence to back up those claims,” Jack replied forcefully. “How many witch hunts that lead nowhere is it going to take to convince this council that he is simply doing his job?”

“There are very good reasons that her work was discontinued,”

“I am well aware director. I helped to shut it down,”

“Then you know how serious such allegations are,”

“Yes, and if there was any evidence to back them up I would not hesitate to act. I have, however, found none and since we are speaking hypotheticals now I would assume you don’t have any either,” Jack quickly dismissed the implication.

“Not at the moment,” Petras conceded after a brief silence. “But that’s not why we’re here,” He quickly pivoted away from that line of questioning. “Six civilians are dead and many more injured.”

“A tragic accident and not something that hasn’t happened in official missions that I have led personally.” For perhaps the first time in his life, Gabriel realized that he had never seen Jack like this, this part of his political persona, harsh, clinical and extremely intimidating. “Unfortunately, sometimes our intel is wrong and things go wrong. All we can do is our best with what we have,” The speech ended with his strong, warmer tone, inspirational, instead of intimidating.

“We cannot sit here and do nothing,” Woerner spoke up forcefully.

“I agree,” Jack responded quickly. “But we need to keep from acting rashly and causing mroe harm than good.”

“Let’s put it to a vote,” Petras declared, disrupting any continued debate. “All of those in favor of terminating Gabriel Reyes as commander of Blackwatch,” The call was followed by three hands raising, Petras, Woerner and Soueng. The scowl on Petras’ face was quite impressive as the votes were counted.

“Opposed,” Jack called out, watching as three hands rose as well: Adawe, Faraji and Juarez were opposed. A tie, three to three. The tiebreaking vote was left to the strike commander himself. “And I am opposed,” He declared, carefully hiding the triumph from his voice. Morrison and Petras’ staredown was clearly making the rest of the council nervous. Even Reaper thought it might come to blows, not that Jack was in any danger, before Adawe spoke up.

“I would suggest a compromise,” She waited until everyone’s attention was on her before elaborating. “Instead of hastily removing Reyes from command, I suggest suspending all Blackwatch activity and launching a special investigation into the organization’s actions. We can reconsider the commander’s position once we know more about the goings on behind the scenes,” There were murmurs of assent from around the table.

“Very well,” Adawe’s compromise appeared to have mollified Petras somewhat. “All in favor of suspension and launching a special investigation.” Six hands were raised, all but the strike commander’s. “Very well. Commander Reyes and all Blackwatch assets are suspended pending the completion of said investigation.” There were murmurs of approval around the table. “I trust that commander Morrison will have no problem informing the commander of our decision.”

“Of course not,” Jack replied as diplomatically as he could manage. “When this investigation turns up nothing I hope we will be able to resume operations as normal,”

The video cut out as Jack turned to leave, presumably when he had sent Gabriel the emergency call that led to them discussing the suspension, not that he had listened to the suspension. He had simply shifted his operations to being more low key and he couldn’t use Overwatch assets, but he had kept up his more important ops.

“Why did you show me this?” Gabriel had all but growled, smoking. He wasn’t sure when he had begun losing a hold of his form.

“Wait, wait wait,” She replied energetically. “That’s not even the best part.” She waved her hand and the old tablet screen shifted to another file. “I found this in the ruins of Zurich,” She explained. “The tablet belonged to the supposedly dead strike commander and it was in surprisingly good condition.”

He glanced through the file. It was in part a profile of Moira and her research and why Overwatch had discontinued supporting it, but it was not simply a profile. It included pictures of Gabriel and Moira, information about Blackwatch’s dealings with her and the resources it had given her to work with. He had no idea why Sombra would have wanted him to look at this until she mentioned that the tablet had been Jack’s.

“When?”

“He was sent the file from an unknown source six days before that meeting you saw. It was accessed sixteen separate times over those six days,”

“He lied.”

“Big time, though if you watch a bunch of the other ones, he does it a lot really,” She shrugged as she spoke. “His silver tongue puts even Akande to shame,”

“Why did you show this to me?” Reaper voice was suddenly cold, dangerous as he repeated his question. Sombra paused briefly, considering her words carefully before she responded.

“I heard your little fight in Oasis.” When Reaper didn’t interrupt, she continued. “Both of you told two seemingly very different stories and I was curious as to what actually happened.”

Gabriel’s mind drifted to Jack’s words that day. “There are a lot of things you can blame me for, but don’t you dare tell me I didn’t trust you. I trusted and stood up for you until the very end you bastard.”

He had dismissed what Jack had been saying as simply more of his lies, but now, he wasn’t so sure.

“What are you trying to accomplish?”

“No ulterior motives,” Her grin betrayed otherwise as she spoke. “I merely wished to spread the truth. You always like acting with accurate information after all.” When he didn’t respond to her casually calling him out immediately, she continued. “I put all of the recordings I could find on there and marked the ones I think would be of the most interest to you, though you might want to watch them all.”

Gabriel scrolled through a large list of several dozen videos as she spoke, internally debating whether he should just throw the damn thing away or not. He was suddenly forced to question things that he knew to be true, the distance, the lack of faith, the betrayal. These had been such integral parts of his life for years and suddenly they were in doubt, somehow. By the time he pulled himself out of his head Sombra had departed, which kept him from having to storm off at the very least.

His actual decision was made regardless of what he actually wanted. There was no way he could avoid knowing exactly what had happened when he had the opportunity. Working off of unfinished information always bothered him and this was no exception. He had to resign himself to a very long night of home movies and from the look of Sombra’s mood, it was going to be very educational.

#reaper76 #r76 #Gabriel reyes #jack morrison #sombra #reaper #overwatch

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shintorikhazumi · 7 years

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A Warm Diana Chapter 4: Turn Up the Heat

A Warm Diana Chapter 4: Turn up the heat

I don’t hate Andrew, not at all, but he doesn’t really interest me. Ok, bu t I love wingman Andrew... so much! I prefer Frank, honestly, but I don’t really mind Andrew, but for the sake of explanation to Chap 3’s Akko and her… pushing away despite loving Diana… well…

Ok... why? WHy in the last episode, and why too late when I already go this set, is it hard for me to post this? Wingman Andrew is best Andrewm but... ugh... why must I be conflicted?!

I apologize beforehand if this chapter will be so random and/or vague especially when it involves Akko, and it will be so damn confusing unless I placed my answers here right.

This is sooo… weird. This chapter. It’s weird. And horrible, and bad and I’m just-

I’m so disappointed in myself rn… but don’t mind me. It sucked. I’ve read it before you guys so a heads up… T^T… Why????

AKKO LOVES DIANA SO MUCH, Okay? Maybe a little too much.

Annnndddd… I don’t understand myself anymore L

EPISODE 25 WaS GLORIOUS!!! And I wanna cry… so bad… losing another series is just too painful… I’ll be lying on my bed staring blankly at the ceiling, so please read.

Ok, I know I said I wouldn’t post because of Ep 25, but… my country won’t show it yet… soooo… I’ll watch it in a couple of minutes. It should be out by now.

Ummm…

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

The insistent ringing of the alarm clock just by her head got Akko flapping her arm about, looking for the damned button to take away the annoying noise so early in the morning.

She did not want to open her eyes, just so she could get that last few minutes of shut-eye before having to get up, lest she comes into a full state of being awake.

She could hear the groans from above her, whispering that she should just get up and turn it off, to which she stubbornly refused and was hit in the face with a pillow that flew from across the room, with the aid of mushroom propulsion.

Due to the vote of the majority, Akko forced her eyes open, blinking and trying to register all the light, shapes and colors around her till she spotted the ticking little object, slamming the button, and tossing it into her drawer.

Silence ensued for a good five minutes before a stray thought popped into Akko’s mind, confusing her on why she had set the alarm if it really was the day she thought it was.

Mustering enough volume into her raspy, early-morning voice, she knocked against the wood of the bunk above her to gain the attention of one of her roommates and best friends.

“Hey, Lotte?” An exhausted hum was the only response, but Akko took it that the girl was listening anyway. “What day is it today? Is it Saturday?” She didn’t know why she needed an answer despite having an idea, but the reply she got had her slapping her forehead and bringing her into complete awareness.

“If you knew, why the hell did you set your alarm for the weekend?” Sucy groaned from across the room, turning about in her bed, looking away from the side with her friends.

“Yes, Akko… It’s Saturday. Don’t tell me you have supplementary lessons again.” The blonde sighed, taking a peek at the bunk below, and he faced morphed into confusion as she watched a bewildered Akko staring at the seven-am numbers on the clock she had just retrieved.

She seemed to be in deep thought before she slapped both her cheeks, now sporting three red triangle points on her face.

“Akko?!”

No Answer was given as Akko bolted from her spot to the drawers to gather her materials, towel and some underwear- something odd since she usually included her clothes, throwing in whatever to an outfit for the weekend, or simply wearing her uniform. The bathroom door banged shut as the sounds of rustling clothes, a yelp (courtesy of Akko slipping) and the sudden sound of a shower (and another cry as the temperature hadn’t been adjusted) were the sounds that headed their morning.

As she scrubbed herself totally clean, Akko couldn’t stop the jitters as she remembered why she needed to be up by this time.

She cursed as she remembered that she still had to plan out her clothes for the day. Something she seldom did, but just had to do.

Why?

Because today was special…

Today was…

The date.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Sucy resisted the urge to roll her eyes as another shriek came, followed by angry muttering as Akko had either bumped into another piece of furniture, her leg bumped into something low, she stepped on something lying round or she stubbed her foot, or maybe worst case scenario, she was making out with the wall again.

“Stupid Walls.”

Ah. She got her answer.

The potion brewer could hear Lotte’s scolding voice as the bespectacled girl had actually been watching Akko in her dance of madness while she threw articles of clothing over her shoulder.

“Akko, calm down. Why are you so panicky in the morning?” She inquired, now climbing down from the bunk and helping her brunette friend out by picking up all the materials strewn about the room.

“Thank goodness, Lotte… Umm… I need your help.” She said putting on a shirt, wearing it, shaking her head then throwing it back in the pile.

“What’s wrong? Why are you in such a hurry? And why are you even acting like this?” Lotte watched her skeptically, seeing this out of character Akko, playing dress up. “It’s almost as if you’re trying to impress someone on a date.”

“I am.” Akko replied instantly, without thinking.

“What?!”

Sucy winced inwardly at the loudness so early in her day, and faced her roommates, deadpan expression on.

“To be more specific, she is trying to impress Diana on a date. At what, nine-am?” The brunette nodded as Sucy gave Akko a once-over, grimacing at her too flashy attire this time, telling Akko that she needed to change it. “And don’t worry, Akko.” She turned to her other friend. “You could wear a rag and Diana would still want to walk around town with you, though I guess you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that, with or without Diana.”

Akko coughed into her fist, out of embarrassment and out of the fact that she choked on her words the moment Sucy spoke.

“Y-yeah… so Lotte?” She returned her attention to the blonde. “Help me out?” She pleaded, voice nearly a reluctant whimper.

“Sure.”

As Lotte went through Akko’s clothes more neatly than the owner, said owner was lost in her own thoughts again.

Akko wondered why she was trying so hard when she, herself had been the one who was so hesitant on going on this date with a certain blonde prodigy.

She had almost refused those dazzling blue pools and that affectionate smile, almost.

Just because she had her insecurities, she had her fears.

But then again, that was exactly why, why she was doing such things.

Looking herself in the mirror, in all her uncoordinated glory, hair strewn about, she muttered her prayers.

If, at the very least for today, any god would hear her prayer, she wished that she would look acceptable enough, worthy to be seen walking beside Diana, and making her happy on this date.

And really, if it were granted, it would be her only wish for a long time.

At the very least, let her be the one to be by Diana’s side today.

She viewed herself in the mirror as Lotte fancied her up, enough to look presentable, but not too much to look, well… and maybe the blonde added a touch of make-up, against Akko’s will, but enough to bring out her beauty as the blonde squealed at her handiwork.

“There! All done.” She smiled, closing the compact. “You must be excited, huh?”

Akko didn’t respond.

She just stared at herself in the mirror, recalling exactly why she did not favor this date than she would have if certain incidents hadn’t occurred. She looked at the mirror, now asking herself if she looked good enough, feeling familiar prickling at the corners of her eyes as Lotte gasped in surprise, asking her what was wrong as she began quietly letting a few tears slip down her features at her face portrayed through the glass.

She looked into watery eyes in shock, asking herself so many questions, one of them being why she was crying.

She felt so conflicted now. Her feelings for Diana, or her insecurities involving Diana. Negated by her fears, the emotions she held…

It almost didn’t seem worth it at all.

Sucy and Lotte stared at her worriedly, before both drew in to comfort her, knowing there was something causing her dread more than first date butterflies.

They didn’t want to know, but they also wanted to be confided in.

And Akko remembered a day, three days ago when she asked herself. For Diana…

Am I enough?

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Three days prior to the talk by the fountain…

A young, well-groomed man stepped out of his expensive limousine, fixing his tie and brushing off whatever imaginary dust he thought he’d have on his two-hundred thousand dollar suit.

He was a man on a mission, two actually, one just serving as a lowly premise for a grander order of business that was composed of him, a lovely mischievous witch, her hat, and some worded feelings.

Yes, the reason why the famous Andrew Hanbridge had returned to Luna Nova Academy was to return Kagari Atsuko’s hat and hope she returned something else of his.

As luck would have it at a quarter-past four just outside Luna Nova’s largest building, the Japanese girl just so happened to pass by, carrying a brow-raising amount of cleaning supplies.

Fixing his tie, checking his breath and clearing his throat, he called for her. “Miss Kagari?”

The girl did a double-take at the sight of the boy- and of the expensive-looking vehicle behind him.

“Oh, hey Andrew! Why are you here?” She asks with a smile, setting down her materials as she approaches him to chat.

“Actually, just this. Here you go. You seem to be quite careless and I recommend you take care of your belongings more.” He reached out the hat to which the girl gave a happy sound followed by a sheepish grin.

“My hat! You had it… Whew, thank you so much for returning it to me.” She told the boy, scratching the back of her head. “Professor Finneran has been hounding me non-stop about it. My ears are starting to scar.

They shared a laugh and the atmosphere was pleasant enough for Andrew to commence with his intentions.

“May we talk a while?” The man asked, holding out a hand expectantly, which Akko either failed to notice, or purposely ignored as she walked past him, leading the way to a nearby bench.

“Sure!”

Exchanging pleasantries and experiences between the two brunette’s ate up quite the fair amount of time, and Akko realized that she still had detention work to do, and tried to excuse herself from a frowning Andrew.

Andrew was disappointed. He enjoyed chatting with the brunette. Really, he did, but something was strange about every single thing they talked about.

It had started with how school was doing, and Andrew told Akko of his learning experience, how he found a good piano teacher there, he boasted about his grades and awards and Akko simply clapped in awe. He liked it, the praise and attention.

But then, it began.

Akko praised him, but then she said she knew someone who could do the same things.

Diana.

Well, it was only one comparison out of many and the rich boy tried to not let it bother him so much.

Akko talked about her own school happenings, and Andrew smiled in fondness, listening attentively, erasing her existence… before Akko rewrote it with so few words.

“-But then Diana helped me out with my homework again! She’s so nice and amazing, and surprisingly kind, wait no. She’s always been that. I’m just stupid.” Akko laughed at her own words, but Andrew remained mirthless.

And that became the format of each conversation.

Andrew would start up a new topic each time the Cavendish girl’s name popped out, trying to drive it as far away from her, and lead it back to them, he and Akko, back to him.

But each and every time, school, family, hobbies, likes, EVERYTHING. Everything always seemed to lead back to Diana. Akko’s thoughts always strayed back to Diana. Everything coursing through Akko’s life always connected to Diana.

Diana, Diana, Diana, Diana, Diana, Diana.

Diana.

How ladybugs and tacos could even come close to be related to her was a mystery, and he felt his confession chances slipping more and more till he reached breaking point. When Akko asked if she could go ahead.

“I’m sorry Andrew!” She squealed, looking at the gigantic clock overlooking Luna Nova’s courtyard. “I forgot about my detention duties. Is it okay if I go back now? Really sorry, I still wanted to talk some more but-“

Andrew breathed deep, feeling the air fill his lungs as he tried to compose himself. “It’s fine.” He spoke through gritted teeth. His chances at confessing were slim, but then again, maybe he should leave it for another time, Diana indirectly thwarting his plans with the help of time.

Wait, Diana?

On second thought, Andrew got up and grasped Akko’s arm looking into wide red irises, blinking at him, stunned.

“Miss Kagari, I have one final question.” He informed, and she straightened up and stared at him in wait.

Bracing himself for the most likely answer that he knew had the biggest possibility of crushing his chances, He asked with all his dignity and pride on the line.

“Do you fancy Diana?”

The way Akko choked on air, jaw hung slack and staring gave Andrew all the answers he needed as his eyes narrowed, gripping her arm tighter as he willed her to stay with him for this conversation.

His next words, he knew they were out of his own jealousy and spite, and against his better judgment, would obviously hurt Akko, something he wouldn’t do normally.

But still he said it.

“You can’t.”

It seemed to snap Akko out of her shocked trance as her confusion turned into interrogation, wondering why her friend, who had somehow realized her feelings for another witch, was questioning- no, opposing the nature of her feelings.

“Why?” She asked, needing an answer. All her other friends here at Luna Nova seemed to have no qualms with it, why should Andrew.

Then she remembered Andrew wasn’t from Luna Nova, he wasn’t with the witches, he was traditional like his father in a sense, no matter how much he did not want to be. Andrew was a boy.

“You just can’t.” And Andrew tried searching for a compelling enough reason for Akko’s love to not come to fruition. “The two of you are so far apart, not only physically, but emotionally, mentally, socially even, and culturally. Akko, if you didn’t know now, I’ll tell you myself. Society will judge you.”

Akko wondered what was going on. And after everything was okay earlier in their talk, it took a turn for worse.

She was struck by a sudden thought. She didn’t think it could be possible, but if there was even the slightest chance, then… What if-

“Are you saying this because you think you’d be a better match for Diana?” She inquired seriously, honestly, not wanting another rival out of a friend.

“NO!” Andrew shouted, not being able to believe how dense the girl could be. Didn’t she see that he and Diana were practically always at each other’s throats? He needed to clarify. “I’m saying this because I’m interested in you.” He finally confessed, hand squeezing the one in his as Akko blinked back in surprise, before frowning with a shake of the head.

Andrew was a nice person, and maybe it wouldn’t be so wrong- No, if there was one thing she was certain of, she wanted Diana and herself to work. This was something she needed to be blunt about, not only to the male, but to herself as well.

“No Andrew,” She began calmly, looking into his eyes as she shook his hand off, standing as tall as her petite stature would allow her. “If you can plainly see, and understand that I like, no love Diana, then why would you tell me I can’t, ignoring the fact that you actually just confessed.” Akko informed, before adding as an afterthought. “Sorry I can’t accept your feelings, by the way.”

Andrew looked at her, his own perception used against him. But now, the irritation he felt wasn’t due to the fact that Akko rejected him of all people, but because the cause of the rejection was Diana of all people.

“Then can you say that to her face?” He challenged her, hardening his head in defiance. “Tell her you love her?”

“Andrew-“ Before she could give a steady answer, she was cut off.

“Akko, I’m the one who likes you more.”

And the brunette instantly knew he was wrong. She just felt it.

Because no one. No one. Gave her the feelings Diana gave, Looked at her the way Diana did, and made her want to shower Diana with as much love as the prodigy had for her. No one could let her feel love without needing to say a word.

No one was as Warm as Diana.

“But then wouldn’t you be in the same boat as Diana?” Once more, she tried using his own words against him, but against her expectations, Andrew gave her a wry smile, knowing something she didn’t and was ready to share.

“The only difference between I and her Is that she is a woman, you both are. And I am a man.”

It was so Quiet. Akko was speechless as she was swarmed with unpleasant thoughts and assumptions.

Just what had Andrew said to make her feel such?

“And have you ever considered what her family would think?” The gut wrenching mention of Diana’s family, people Akko didn’t exactly have fond memories of, made her shiver.

Because whether or not they were horrible human beings, or snakes, They were still Diana’s family and therefore held more importance to the girl in her life.

“Would they ever approve of you two?” Andrew added more and more salt to the wound. “Much less you.“

Akko felt her fists clench so tightly her palms hurt, as she gripped them, nails digging into her skin, ensuring red marks later on.

“I’m ready to find a way for myself, but is Diana?” The boy turned away from the witch, ready to walk away and not let the disdain show on his face, hating everything including himself for being such a petty, lowly, jealousy-driven individual.

Envy was a dangerous sin.

“She- she… She is.” Akko decided to put all her faith in Diana, but still… even with this much trust in the blonde, Akko knew that her uncertainty was not for fear for herself, but for fear of the things that could affect Diana, and love just confuses everyone.

“Think about it.” The politician’s son gave his final offer and warning to which Akko was grateful for, but not willing to accept.

“I am.”

She really was thinking. Deeply about his words, their talk.

“You know I only say this because I care. About you.” Andrew told her this, climbing back into the seat of his car.

“I’m sorry.” Akko gave a curt bow, no longer being able to smile and laugh and look into her friend’s eyes. “I may care about you, but it can only ever be as a friend.”

Andrew kept the strangled breath in his throat as he did nothing to bid goodbye, as did Akko.

“Suit yourself. I will be waiting.”

Left alone now, Akko picked up all her cleaning supplies, hearing a frustrated growl from a familiar teacher in charge of detention.

“Guess I’ll get back to those windows.”

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

“You are distracted.”

Akko nearly spat out her drink, quickly scanning the table for a tissue or cloth, Diana handing her one helpfully, the brunette nodding her thanks as she wiped off the liquid that escaped her lips from her surprise.

“Are you alright?” Diana’s worried gaze filled Akko with warm fuzzies and butterflies, but she also felt bad for causing the blonde concern on their date that was seemingly very special to the heiress.

“I’m fine.” Akko replied with a nod for extra guarantee.

Diana seemed to accept it, and leaned back into her seat, taking another bite of her food and letting her date relax, before tensing again.

“So what has been on your mind that you have been ignoring me this whole time?” They had been sitting at their table, in this café for nearly two hours and not so much as simple greetings and formalities had been exchanged.

Akko was barely lucky that the cup was still to her lips as she spat out all she had drank, back into the cup, disgusted by herself as she put the cup back down, hoping the waiters would just throw the contents away later.

“Sorry.” The girl whispered with a bowed head.

The heiress sighed, folding her hands on top of the table as she looked at Akko’s defeated form. “I don’t need an apology, I want an answer.”

“Sorry.”

Diana was sad because Akko was sad, and there was no way she wanted her very first date with her very first love to end on a sour note. She needed to fix things as soon as possible.

“Is it… because of me?” It hurt to ask this question, but she felt it was relevant to know.

The brunette witch’s eyes widened, shaking her head furiously. “No, absolutely not. You are not- well… I-“

What was she doing? Allowing Diana, in her oh so stunning dress to impress, to feel anxious, scared on the date after she had been so kind as to invite Akko out, choosing a private location for them, a rarely visited café on the outskirts of town, far from all who knew them, and at first Akko’s thoughts of Diana being ashamed of her nagged in her head, but of course the blonde herself denied those ideas, telling Akko as they arrived that she chose this particular setting for the girl’s own comfort if she wished not to be seen due to her consciousness of Diana’s status.

Akko felt like crying a second time that day, simply from the fact that Diana still thinks of her despite how Akko is towards Diana, shy and inconsiderate of the girl’s feelings in a way. Though she refrains from doing so, she does not fail in expressing her utmost gratitude by hugging the girl tightly.

“I’ll… be fine Diana.” Akko spoke after reminiscing the past few minutes, smiling softly. “Let’s just enjoy our date? I swear I’ll pay attention now.” The girl grinned for the first time in a while, digging around her pocket before tossing loose change as tip on the table, showing her hand to Diana who was still questioning her state. She rolled her eyes. “I promise I’ll be fine, if not you can take care of me, or something?” She said, blushing a bit.

Though Diana was still a bit suspicious, and wanted to know what was bothering Akko so much, she accepted the offer of happier times and took Akko’s outstretched hand that dragged her out of her seat and out the café’s door with a clang of the bell that hung by the door.

Akko laughed freely as the air brushed against her face as she had no intentions of halting this run along this dirt road in a place far from anything they already knew, only knowing each other out here. To the dunce, there was no more place for fears or insecurities and for the first time in these past days, she felt she could breathe.

She muttered a few apologies down the road for every time Diana would make a sound of discomfort or would trip as Akko was leading her by the hand, by her own pace, letting go of all her thoughts, and replacing it with ‘Diana.’

As compensation for all the hurt, she hoped she could let Diana enjoy it… at least for today.

On the other side of things, Diana could only stare at the back she missed looking at so much, following around into adventures and all that excitement.

She spotted the smile Akko sported, even if it was for but a millisecond, but she could confirm it was real.

This was the Akko she asked out, The Akko she loved.

It was finally time to enjoy their date.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Diana was frowning. Wait, no… she was scowling.

She wanted to enjoy her date.

She had chosen a simple enough dress, stopping just above her knees that would give her enough comfort for the outdoors, and wore boots along with it, a thin coat to keep her warmer in case they stayed out late, and a shoulder bag for her things. She even applied light amounts of makeup to top off her look.

And she loved how Akko looked, arriving to meet Diana, despite her slouched appearance at first as she was bashful to show herself to the heiress.

A Plain white V-neck shirt and a scarf, a black coat, black tapered jeans, ankle boots and a cap. A leather backpack hung behind her.

Neat, not too casual, not too formal.

Akko had even taken initiative to lead her around by the hand, despite walking around with her eyes to the ground, hiding her face.

And after the café incident, things had started getting better with Akko back to her usual endearing self.

She had been beginning to enjoy her date.

-Before it rained. HARD.

“Faster, Diana!” Akko shouted through the loud noise of falling water, the clouds crying heavily on them. “I think I saw a shed over there.” She pointed through the practically misty visibility due to how strong the rain was. A silhouette of a roof barely seen on a hill.

Diana nodded, but realized Akko couldn’t see her just as she was having a hard time following Akko. The only reason they were yet to be separated in this weather was the firm hold Akko had on her hand as she guided her to shelter.

They had been running, with Akko in the lead, to any place their feet would lead them to, no particular direction in mind, though Diana had her misgiving, and worried if by chance they would get lost.

But Akko’s happiness was just too contagious that it dissipated all those thoughts. Diana had been led like a moth was to a light, the light being the ever bright Kagari Atsuko.

But just as she had been reveling in the light, basking in its warm glow, dark clouds formed suddenly overhead before releasing all the gathered waters of the heavens onto the poor pair of girls.

Now, running to a seemingly unreachable destination, Diana felt the need to be more careful as she had been tripping and slipping a few small times, before her foot eventually hit a larger rock causing her to lose her footing as she shrieked, “Akko!”

She closed her eyes in preparation for any form of impact, but the only impact she knew of was the pelting of rain against her now shivering, cold arms that found purchase around her savior’s back.

Other than that, she was left in warmer arms, a stronger protective barrier against the howling winds as she felt her back being rubbed in comfort.

“Are you okay?” A soothing voice asked, distressed for the heiress’ sake, holding Diana carefully close, only a so few feet before her head would hit the ground. Her neck and head were cradled gently in one hand, as the other supported behind her waist.

Akko was nearly parallel with Diana and the ground as her back received all the rain, Diana beneath her and shielded from it all, drops falling from brunette strands.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

Diana’s mouth opened and shut again, gaping like a fish as she tried to find the words to say in her surprise and embarrassment as her heart beat faster and faster by the minute.

Not finding any words to express what she wanted to say, she opted to wrapping her arms fuller around Akko, pulling her into a hug, torso to torso, so close together, nearly taking them down to the ground as the other witch struggled to right both bodies, Diana now clinging against her as she returned the embrace.

“Let’s get some shelter.”

The blonde nodded, loosening her hold on Akko just a bit as said girl assisted her in standing and walking to the place she had spotted earlier.

Diana was so focused on just walking through the strong, squinting all the way that she failed to notice Akko taking off her cap and placing it on Diana’s head, allowing her to see a bit better and protect her eyes, as well as make a surprised sound.

“Akko-“ She tried to reject the help, but Akko was already shielding her eyes with her hand, not giving Diana the chance to return the hat.

“Wear it, I’ll be fine.” She instructed, lowering her head slightly, looking for a better way to see. “We’re near that shed thing, anyway.”

True enough, they now stood at what looked to be an old, worn down bus stop, deserted and in the middle of the flooding nowhere.

Akko sat Diana down and tried digging in her pack, searching for anything to wipe away all the droplets running down Diana’s face from her dripping hair onto her clothes.

Finding a face towel, Akko began dabbing carefully at Diana’s face, the other girl closing her eyes and enjoying the care as Akko proceeded to her hair and cheeks.

Diana, after being able to open her eyes, stared at the concentrated, determined look on Akko’s face as she dried Diana off gently.

“Akko, thank you, but what about yourself?” She asked, stopping the movement of Akko’s hands and calling for her attention as their gazes met. The brunette witch was obviously more soaked than she was, and possibly very cold, but was trying to hide it.

Akko decided not to reply as she tried loosening Diana’s grip on her to continue with her service to the girl- but she froze as she went lower, wiping Diana’s neck and seeing her translucent white dress due to being wet. Her eyes averted straightaway, a blush conquering her entire face as she mumbled something to herself before slipping off her black coat and covering Diana properly, the girl confused at the actions.

“What are you-?” The heiress tried removing the cloth but Akko waved her hands frantically to stop her from doing so, drawing in too close as they ended up staring into one another’s eyes again, before blinking at the same time.

“…”

“HUH?!”

The moment their eyes opened, they were in a quiet café, only drizzles outside the window as warm sunlight permeated through the grayish clouds outside the tall glass windows in the warm atmosphere.

“What the- Where are we?” Akko asked no one in particular, very suspicious of the place, their sudden location. “What just happened?”

One look at Diana who was now seated at a nicely arranged table instead of on an old wooden bench, told Akko that she had no clue either.

The brunette rubbed her temples, trying to comprehend how they got to this mysterious place, before a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Welcome, visitors. To Café Riparo, your shelter from the rain.”

Akko’s head turned from one side to another, trying to pinpoint the location from where the voice came.

“There’s no use in searching for me. I am the owner of this magical place. A place to rest, to relax, to take shelter from the storms of the world and inside you. I cannot be seen, only heard, and I can only serve, no service returned to me. No one shall know my name, though I may always know yours.”

“Kagari Atsuko.” The girl bravely replied, giving her name, as Diana’s protest died in her throat. “I have another question.” Akko said, pulling out a chair and taking her seat, two floating towels immediately draping themselves over the guests.

Akko and Diana were surprised that after one brush of the towel, they were dry again, the cloths disappearing into thin air.

“Ask away, my guests. But before that, would you care for a warm cup of tea?”

Akko could only nod, still wary of everything, before a tea set appeared on their table, sugar cubes floating about as Diana held up two fingers, the sweet bits jumping into her cup and the liquid stirred itself.

“Why are we here?” Akko asked the question both witches were curious about, relaxing after a sip from her tea.

“To escape peril and enter into paradise, two hearts must be connected by the same actions, the same thoughts, the same feelings.”

“What is that sup-“

Then it clicked.

In one single moment of surprise, when the pair had gazed into one another’s eyes, no other thoughts running in their head but each other- the same thoughts. When they had blinked in synchronization- the same actions.

But what of the same feelings?

To embarrassed or afraid to admit, somehow they just knew and didn’t know what it meant.

While they were in deep thought, not exactly doing anything, the voice resounded throughout the room once more.

“Would you mind chatting with this unlucky, lonesome soul?”

Looking up, both shrugged, not having much choice as they still failed to comprehend what was happening, nodding their replies as more tea and treats came floating or appeared on their table.

“Let’s savor this company, shall we?”

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Chatting with, what they learned, was a cursed soul roaming this cursed “Town of Rain”, as it explained, was far less scary than one would have expected.

The voice was gentle in its stories, refilling the witch’s refreshments from time to time. Possibly the only other thing they were grateful for, food after missing lunch, aside from the shelter.

Also, maybe a new magical history that was known by so few it was such a privilege to be told from the source itself.

A greedy mayor of a town abundant in water and rain with astounding greenery and produce, charging so much for each and every product, building this café and charging his own people too much.

And the soul was cursed by the justice of the Nine Olde Witches.

Akko felt sorry for it, the soul bound to a hidden town, a hidden store, only to have company if the terms of visiting were met.

How sad was an eternal damnation alone.

But all stories must have some ending, and no matter happy or sad, they all bore a lesson to learn.

And the soul spoke in all his years of learning, that he had finally learned… a bit too late.

Diana had also felt mercy for him, as the girls shared a look while sipping tea, and they did not notice the sad atmosphere, the darkening clouds outside the window as they blinked together, realizing a moment later.

“Thank you for visiting. Do come again.”

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

“Hey Diana.”

Akko was now kicking her shoes against the ground as they found themselves sitting on that old wooden bench, at the deserted bus stop.

“Yes, Akko?”

“I think I learned something.” Akko said, neither of them looking at each other as the brunette got up, staring at the softer pelting rain, now turning into a light drizzle.

“I did too.”

It was quiet, and Diana was still staring at her lap, registering everything as if it had been a dream- until a hand came into view. She followed the arm up with her eyes, reaching a small, slightly melancholic smile.

“Did you enjoy the date?” Akko asked, though having a feeling that she and the heiress shared the same sentiment.

“Not as much as I would’ve liked.”

The brunette nodded in agreement as Diana placed her hand in the outstretched one that pulled her to her feet.

Looking back into Akko’s eyes, the girl seemed to look more refreshed, like she had really found something important.

“I guess we think and feel the same about that then, huh?”

Diana’s eyes widened as she heard those words in her head in a different voice, the two sharing grins as their hands linked, squeezing one another.

“I suppose you are correct on that front. It could have been better.”

Akko hummed, nodding, rocking on the balls of her feet before her expression morphed into mischief, eyeing the water droplets in a contemplative manner.

“It’s not too late for us to make it better?”

She smirked, and Diana did not have the luxury to wonder what it would have meant, as she was tugged by the hand back into the drizzling atmosphere, Akko leading once more, but this time beginning to run and horse around, taking Diana near bushes and trees and getting water droplets to attack the blonde girl as she shrieked in horror, before giggling and returning the favor.

What was the purpose of drying off earlier? Diana did not know, nor did she care anymore as they played around in the puddles and in the rain.

Even if the gentle breeze and the little droplets were near freezing, their joined hands emitted all the warmth in the world they’d need.

It was time to enjoy their date for real.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

The setting sun on the horizon and their dimly lit dirt path leading to familiar parts told the pair of students something. More specifically, it was time for something.

To go back to town to go home.

Diana was certainly displeased to have to leave now, not wanting to return to school despite the rules for students when going out, surprising herself as she always saw herself as a diligent and obedient child. But Love was something that was dangerous, and this was a proven fact.

Now entering the city gates, Diana found herself more relaxed, and Akko contrasting her, more tense as she kept looking around ever since they stepped foot into the crowd.

Her head was down, hiding her face and she was on high alert, almost as if she thought someone were watching her every move, or judging her for just being there, walking next to Diana.

The heiress sighed, frustrated and needing to know what caused the girl this distress. Diana never pegged her the type to worry about appearances and status, and she certainly had shown that fact a while ago, with how she acted around Andrew and other aristocratic figures. So what was so different now?

Arriving by the tower that would connect them to the leylines, Diana watched Akko’s shoulders relax as she let out a deep breath. It was the time she’d ask. They were not to return until the blonde knew what was wrong.

“Akko.” She called and the girl jolted up straight.

“Y-yes?” She looked nervous, almost as if she did not want to go back home yet- or rather, go back home with Diana. She even took a step back once the heiress drew near her, cancelling all the elation Diana had accumulated the whole day in one gesture.

“Akko…” Her voice sounded weaker as her hand tried to reach for the girl who stepped back till she was backed against the wall. “Did you hate it?”

“Huh?” Akko straightened up, now it was her turn to reach out and lift Diana’s gaze to hers. “What-“

“Did you hate the date?” Akko looked at her disbelieving, shaking her head in denial, her only way to reply, wondering where Diana obtained such thoughts. Hadn’t Akko been happy most of the time.

Oh, that was it, wasn’t it?

Most of the time.

“When it said about the same feelings… Akko… what was it that you felt before we entered the café?” Diana asked. “And on a more negative note, the shop before that, what were you thinking about? Why don’t you want to be seen with me? You were far more relaxed away from prodding eyes- Akko, just… is there something wrong with me?”

Again all Akko could do was shake her head no, mouth open but silent.

“Then, are you ashamed of being seen with me?” Diana asked, quivering.

The brunette’s eyes widened in utter shock. “Never!” No, that wasn’t it. In fact, it may have been the opposite. “Diana, I’m more scared that you’d be ashamed of being seen with me.”

“Why?”

Now that was a surprise. Why, indeed? And Diana had asked it simply, like it was perfectly questionable, that statement. Why should she be ashamed of Akko, of someone she loved?

“Because Andrew-“

Andrew.

Diana frowned immediately as Akko clamped her mouth shut, at the glaring eyes. “What about Andrew? Did he tell you something? Akko?” She may have looked menacing, but her air and voice were afraid and weak.

Diana pleaded for honesty, and there was no way Akko could say no.

“H-he…”

“Yes?”

“He said I wouldn’t suit you.”

Diana’s heart dropped to the floor.

“He said… I can’t love you.”

Diana choked on thin air, now lacing her hand with Akko’s that was grasping at the sleeves of her jacket.

“Society would judge us… and your family…Who you are, you’re amazing and- I’m not someone… who can freely walk next to you, you know?” Akko was teary-eyed explaining to Diana. “I don’t want to ruin your life just because I’m in it.”

Ruin her life? Akko was basically the only thing good in her life!

“Akko-“

“That’s why I can’t be your lover, or girlfriend or any other title other than your friend, Diana.” Akko breathed out. “Okay?”

The girl nodded in confused understanding.

“Because I’m a coward… and I’m scared.” Akko released her grip and stepped back. “I’ll ask Lotte or Sucy to pick me up. Go on ahead.” Akko smiled a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “I at least hope you enjoyed the date.”

The sun had finally set and the tower was enveloped in quiet nighttime darkness that reached the depths of Akko’s heart.

“No.”

The firm voice made Akko lift her head in confusion.

“You didn’t?”

“NO.” Diana said again, voice louder, angrier, sadder, more loving. “No, Akko… You are mistaken, very much so.”

“Diana?”

“You suit me… Only you. You and I, we complement one another. No, Andrew is wrong. You can love me. I want you to love me.” Diana swallowed hard, parting her quivering lips. “Please, I need you to love me. Please love me.”

“Diana, I said I can’t.”

“No, because you are far from ruining my life. You fill it with adventure, fun, love, color… warmth.” Diana spoke with fondness. “No, you are not a coward. Afraid, perhaps, but not a coward. And no, do not call your team. You are returning with me.”

Diana finished it with a smile, but Akko still had questions.

“But what about the date? Did you enjoy it?”

Diana thought about it. She’d be lying if she said either yes or no.

“I think we both know the answer.” Akko nodded. “Though… there is one yes…” At the brunette’s raised brow, Diana sighed, running a and through slightly cool damp hair. “Society will judge us.”

“I see.”

“But know this Akko,” Diana cut in before the sadness consumed Akko. “I love you.”

Akko felt her heart beat faster, but painfully in her chest as she clutched it, tears in her eyes. Even after all the pain and rejection she had caused Diana, she was able to say such honest words, while Akko lied to both Diana and herself.

“No- I can’t… Diana, please…”

“I don’t need a title or a label for us just yet.” Diana cut off the weeping child, now holding onto Diana’s clothes as she slowly felt her knees go weak, the pair crouching on the floor. “But I want to date you.”

“Diana…” Akko shook her head, not allowing it, even if she ached to do so… to be allowed to love Diana. “No, I can’t… you can’t, we can’t-“

“I want to show you how I can be for you, with you, because of you.”

Diana continued her sincere words, a second, stronger confession in the making, while Akko was wavering in her decisions of a second rejection.

“I want to date you. I want to go out with you. But if you are against it, then I cannot force you because I have my feelings and you have yours. I do not, will not, push or force upon you my desires.”

Why did Diana have to be so kind, why did she still have to be so considerate… why did she have to return Akko’s feelings and impossible love?

“-but…” She spoke up again, hugging Akko once, before releasing her, holding her at arm’s length so that Akko could see the truthfulness in her eyes. “ I long to love you.”

Diana began wiping away the never-ending tears from Akko’s face as she held onto Diana’s clothes, still shaking her head, resolve breaking, shame overruled by love.

“So will you let me?”

The tears fell into her lap as she cried, noisily, then quietly, sniffling, then breathing deeply, trying to let it all out, but trying to prevent it all. Akko held onto Diana, not any closer than their one body apart distance, but Diana wanted more, pulling the smaller girl in close and hugging her as tightly as she could.

“Will you let me?”

“D-D… Diana!” Akko sobbed into the jacket, soaking it with her salty tears as she nodded, finally accepting, hugging Diana, clutching the fabric covering the girls back, running her hands all over. “I’m sorry!” She cried. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I was scared. I’m sorry… I’m sorry for leading you on… I’m sorry for not giving you a proper answer… Diana I’m sorry I can’t- I’m…”

“You were hurt, weren’t you?” Diana whispered softly into her ear, tucking Akko under her chin as she rocked them both back and forth. “His words hurt you, those thoughts scared you… for my sake.”

Akko nodded, not trusting her voice any longer, broken and raspy.

“Don’t be sorry.” Diana cooed. “Thank you for telling me, Akko.” She kissed through the girl’s hair, on her forehead, she brought the girl’s hand to her lips, warming them with her love. “We can now work this out together.”

Akko felt herself being lifted up, up into Diana’s arms as she felt so, so weak, as the heiress prepared and mounted her broom.

“We can work the details, and the other things out later.” She planted a kiss on the girl’s nose, then on her eyelids, then on her tear-stained cheeks. “For now, let’s go home.”

Akko nodded, and with a ‘Tia freyre!’, they were on their way to a new start, a fresh one, a happier one.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Arriving at the gates, Akko was able to stand on her own two feet, wobbly, yes, but enough to walk on her own, albeit with the assistance of Diana.

“Akko, before we go back in,” The brunette barely had enough time to be aware before Diana’s forehead bumped against hers and her lips were planted just on her chin, inches shy of Akko’s own pair of pink petals. “I love you. I am willing to wait.”

A fresh batch of tears welled in her chest as Akko cried, pulling Diana into a hug, muttering sorry and thank you over and over to the blonde, hugging her, grateful and apologetic, but more relieved than anything, more loved, more loving… happier, sadder, lighter…

Warmer.

She would anticipate the day, they both would, the day Akko could say ‘I love you ‘ and have no worries, no ‘but’s , or problems, no ‘sorry’s behind it.

And they could wait forever.

Diana and Akko.

The two of them entered the gates hand in hand, teary smiles, dopey faces, blushing and embarrassed, but feeling so warm as they returned to the dorms.

Tomorrow would be another day.

It would be a fresh start for everything, even for them.

They were so happy that they might lose sleep, but they hardly cared.

It was time for a new warmth.

…

But-

…

They did not see the two pairs of eyes watching them from afar, icy and dark.

Eyes that spoke-

No.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

A/N: So no water form, but this time it was rain… still counts, right? Um… Sorry… for the quality drop… See you next time?

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~Shintori Khazumi

#dianakko #A Warm Diana #lwa #little witch academia #diana cavendish #atsuko kagari #akko kagari #fanfic

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