#Could you imagine a conversation with father Brian about how he passed out in the lab and woke up in a grave and how he doesn’t know what t

[cantpickyourgenre]

Another super interesting storyline that could come out of resurrected!Bobby is if they delve into what his afterlife/coma was like. Did he see his family? Does he feel lingering guilt because he chose to come back to his current life? Was he sort of haunting his team? Hearing how sad and lost and guilty they all feel in his absence? Did it cause him to question his faith? Reaffirm it? It’s just so much more interesting if he’s alive.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E131 (March 30, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are Liam O’Brien and Sam Riegel!

Brian points out that a lot of Caleb’s greatest fears have come to pass. Liam: “It’s funny, because he’d kind of believed for a while that those things weren’t going to happen. After a while, he got complacent.” He notes that it was extra wild because everything with Trent popped up again in the midst of that complacency. And how did it feel to be defiant toward Trent? “I think Trent successfully made Caleb question if Caleb really was in control“ at the dinner party. “I feel like anything that I do is part of his plans for me, or is that just gaslighting? I’m legitimately scared of that dude.” Sam: “Of Matt?” Liam: “Sure.” He highlights the disconnect between knowing that the M9 is mechanically powerful and could possibly defeat Trent in a dice-and-stats battle, versus fearing him in a story sense and being convinced he can do almost anything.

Sam, on Luc’s death: “That was brutal, man. Matt Mercer is a-- he hates children! Clearly. He actively sought to kill a child in the campaign in as brutal a way as possible. He hates children and wants them dead. Canon. No, but to RP, that was horrible.” He highlights that so much of Veth’s arc has been about trying to get back to her family. “We had to choose something and we thought we were making the right choice. It was all Veth’s fault, and it was pretty rotten. My heart was beating pretty fast, and I certainly didn’t want to have my son die live on the stream. I don’t know what Veth would have done. That’s the end, that’s over. It’s almost worse than when your own character would die. This is something that would also kill Veth.” After the episode was over: “just shaken. I also didn’t know what to do next! That felt like a turning-point moment for my character, weirdly so close to what we assume to be the end arc of this campaign. I texted Matt later that night and was like, that’s it, Veth’s out, I’m tapping out.”

There’s an interlude in which Sam discovers a new dream to record an episode of this show from his Peloton. Dani informs him that she will not be inviting him back.

On Astrid, Liam: “I literally don’t know what she’s doing. I know that she’s dangerous, she always was ambitious, and there’s not been a moment where Caleb let his guard down with her. He’s not trying to reestablish what they had. He cares for the both of them, for Astrid and Eodwulf. He thinks about it a lot, still. He can’t tell how much she buys into everything that she experienced and is now living as a full-grown adult. He suspects that she’s bought in and is not going to change things, because she believes in the system, as much as he’d like to peel her away. He does believe that they want what’s best for the Empire, and stopping whatever wants to come vomiting out of a hole in the frozen north is good for everyone. And they’re powerful. They’re not trustworthy, obviously. But there’s enough at stake to make it worth it. He could imagine a situation where they fight each other to the death.” He was convinced Astrid was going to stop them when they left the tower and was really shocked when she held back. Sam: “Not me! I’ve trusted Astrid since day one. She’s the greatest! I sent a letter to her, she’s very nice, I think you guys would be a nice couple. I believe every word she says.”

On having to decide on Veth deciding to go off and save the world after Luc’s death. “Like I said, I was ready to be done. And then I decided somewhere in there that that’s not very D&D. So I thought I’d leave it up to somebody else, so I asked Caduceus to decide for me, essentially. She knows she’s putting her other family in danger if she doesn’t go. It’s an impossible choice, you know?” Liam: “I love watching you grapple with it, because you’re a lovely father and love your kids.”

On the Sanatorium, Sam: “That was brutal, man. Matt lulls you into a sense of complacency. We’d forgotten that Caleb was a stone-cold killer! It had been a while since he went on a murder spree. Still got it!” Liam: “I never meant for this character to be perfect sunshine.” Brian: “You don’t say.” Liam: “He’s very not-perfect, and I think in his brain, he was going in with the impression that they needed to get in and get out as soon as possible. The place is crawling with people with magic ability, and I didn’t have faith that we wouldn’t be sussed out or something wasn’t going to blow an illusion.” Everything was about getting out of there as fast as possible.

Did the conversation with Yeza help with Veth’s decision? “First of all, every conversation with Yeza is a beautiful one. Every time she talks to Yeza, it makes her feel good. In some ways, she’s gotten to the point now where she knows Yeza’s going to be supportive, she knows he’s going to allow her to do what she wants, but maybe that’s too much. Maybe she needs to not listen to him, basically, and be like, no, you need to be selfish now, dude, you need to say ‘come home, I’m sick of you leaving’. At a certain point, being supportive can turn into being enabling.”

Cosplay of the Week: Jester in the snow! (liljerbear47, photography by kairiceleste on Instagram)

On Trent’s motivations for chasing Caleb: “I really don’t know. The simplest explanation is to just hammer down the nail that’s sticking up. It has crossed his mind that all high-level wizards are in danger of their own ambition and egos, so it’s occurred to him that Trent might have the same kind of ideas that Halas had in the past, and maybe Caleb was always meant to be another body to jump into. Maybe in some sick, disgusting, twisted way, he wants him to be his successor. I am thinking of the next campaign, without getting too deep in, trying to do something that is much more ride-along. Caleb is very, very specific, and I thought long and hard about all the different pieces on the chessboard for him. For campaign three, I’m looking forward to seeing what happens.”

Dani: “Do I need to be keeping lore on your fucking ads?”

On the cursed dagger: “It was a tricky one, because in campaign one, one of the characters was under the influence of a cursed weapon, but it interacted with him and he knew what it was and what it did. And it affected his gameplay as a character. For me, Veth didn’t know what it was, ever. I as a player knew what it was doing, but Veth didn’t know at all. So it was kind of like my dirty, dark secret for many months. I knew this thing was coming perilously close to killing me, but my character didn’t know enough to bring it up to her friends. Nobody ever asked! So I was like, well, I guess this thing’s just going to kill me one day, and it’s kind of going to be a surprise.” Liam: “Sam, you love danger and self-destruction so much, you might as well be Mollymauk.”

On the fight in Yasha’s sequence, Sam: “You gotta put a character in your storm giant creature. It was so fun! It was so great of Matt to involve us in this encounter. It would’ve been fun just to watch, because Matt would have made it amazing and Ashley was sweating bullets, which is always fun to watch.” Sam notes he felt guilty, but Liam was going for the kill. Liam: “Matt’s gotta be careful about giving me that kind of story beat. I do not fucking care, I just fucking flip, I’m like, well, I’m going to destroy you, and I have no qualms about it. It’s too much fun!”

The Beau/Yasha tower date was in part inspired by not being able to give gifts as easily this last year. “This thing that we do together is a gift, but I love finding these moments, like the book for Jester and the tower for Yasha and for Beau. I really just wanted to give both of them a little magic for a night. I wanted them to leave this-- we’re trying to be as entertaining as possible, but shit is having an effect on all of us too, and I wanted them to have an escape, a great place to escape to.”

Fan Art of the Week: an amazing group shot, plus Marion, Yeza, and Luc! (vocaz on Twitter)

On choosing Essek over Trent, Liam: “It would have been so interesting and awful and great! Essek and Astrid and Eodwulf are everything that Bren used to be attracted to that are terrible for him. Essek, hopefully he can with time find a way out of the hole that he dug himself into, but it was only two months ago where he was found out and his ambitions came crashing down around him. Long-term, I have high hopes for him, but I think it’s going to be hard.” In contrast, Astrid and Eodwulf are still “deep in the shit. It would have been really hard to navigate, but fun to play at the table. We made the right choice with what we went with. Essek’s just getting started, and Caleb doesn’t trust him entirely, because he was burned so hard not too long ago. He’s still more trustworthy than the other three. So it’s the better choice. While Caleb has all these ties on the other side, they’re really fucking dangerous. So if you have to choose, you choose Essek. But fuck that die.” Sam: “Veth, much like Sam Riegel, makes instant decisions about whether to trust someone or not and sticks to it forever. Astrid, 100% trust. Eodwulf, 100% distrust. Essek, completely distrust. I still don’t think he’s a good guy. Ikithon? Trust. 100%. Because you know where he’s coming forward, you know what he wants. I still want him dead, but I trust him.”

On Veth’s post-adventuring plans: “Veth is probably still too in it right now to think about what comes next. I, Sam Riegel, have a good idea of what I want Veth to do post-campaign.” Brian: “Maybe you shouldn’t tell us. Save it for the show!” Sam: “All she knows is she can’t do this anymore. It’s very unhealthy to be battle-wounded every other day. It’s fun for a while, but college has to end at some point, and she’s gotta go home.”

On Frumpkin changing appearance and returning to the Feywild: “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but the way it feels now for Caleb is that he feels too enmeshed in everything that has happened, and too much good has happened, and too much needs to happened, that that really narcissistic, selfish goal has the risk of harming everything else, which is more important. And that’s how he looks at it now. So he’s gearing towards letting everything from the beginning of the campaign, and where he started, go, and trying to figure out what use he’s going to be now and what he’s going to do if they’re not all dead. If Matt throws that shit down, I don’t know what I will do, I think about it a lot. But turning Frumpkin white and saying you’re free either way is him preparing to let go of everything he’s been holding on to for a really long time. He’s addicted to that idea that he can fix himself, and we’ll see if that hard choice gets presented, what he might do. But where he stands now, he doesn’t think that’s going to be reality, and he sees a way that he can be of use that he never really anticipated before, so he’s slowly shifting gears towards living with the pain he was trying to remove.”

On the last request scene and confidence heading into Aeor, Sam: “I feel like that’s a good request. I think all of us realized that if we die, that probably bodes badly for the world. I feel like all of us are at a point now as characters and as friends, that the first order of business would be to take care of everybody else’s shit, although we probably have different ideas of how to do that.” Liam: “I want the Empire to be healed, Caleb has all these memories of his parents and what they wanted for the world, and he wants that too. It’s clearly not in place now, the system needs to be broken and replaced. That could be a part of Caleb’s sunset. I don’t want Caleb to die, so maybe he can work on that after. As everything starts to shake out and we start heading towards our destiny, Caleb’s just free-floating. He’s not even going after the same thing he started for. So he’s looking at Veth’s family, and Luc specifically, and seeing that’s me, that’s a little boy in the Empire.”

[thebrochtuarachs]

Something in the Rain - “A Month Apart, Part 2”

A/N: Hi everyone, sorry this chapter came a little bit later than I intended but here it is. I've had some family things I need to take care of so in order to rest, the writing got put on hold. But do know that this story is on my mind and I hope you enjoy this update :) Stay safe and as always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

A modern day meet cute instance between Jamie and Claire.

AO3  / C1: A Day In June / C2: Definitely, Maybe / C3: So We Meet Again / C4: Friday Lunch / C5: Finding Solid Ground / C6: Situations / C7: Interruptions / C8: A Month Apart, Part 1

XXXXX

The call was scheduled beginning Claire’s lunch and Jamie’s dinner. They opted for this time since Claire’s schedule was clear for the rest of the afternoon and Jamie was happy to stay up late for this. Her supposed agenda that day was to get some research and paperwork done but after what happened yesterday, she knew they needed to have a conversation.

Gathering her laptop, lunch and paperwork, she settled on her desk and waited for Jamie’s call. And right on time, his caller ID pops up in her laptop and she accepts.

“Hi, Claire.” Jamie greeted from the other line. Just by the way he addressed her so formally immediately told Claire just how nervous he was.

“Hi, Jamie.” she chimed back. Hoping to light the mood, she decided to take the lead in the conversation. “What time did you get home?”

“Erm, got home around 6:30, 7:00PM. Freshened up a bit and for food - well,” he held up the take out box from the table to show to Claire. “Thanks for these” It was a box of their favorite comfort food and Jamie could not feel any much more relief. “How about you, what’s for lunch?”

“Oh, it’s sub day today here at the hospital. So got the biggest one I could order to last me the day.”

“Any food over here in Scotland ye miss?”

“Honestly, the chicken! I’ve tried some here but nothing tops Mrs. Kim’s” As Claire shared that sentiment, Jamie took one wing on his mouth, prompting Claire to roll her eyes. “Right, rub it in, will you”

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat ye to some once yer back.”

“I’ll record that raincheck”  After a short laugh, the line went silent. They both knew it was time to address the elephant in the room.

“Claire, I want to let ye know what happened yesterday.” Jamie began. Claire was silent, a hesitation etched on her face.

“Are you sure? You don’t really have to -” Claire replied, hesitation etched on her face. The past three months of Jamie and Claire dating has been kept much in the down low with none of the tabloids catching drift of one of Scotland’s most eligible with the pediatric doc. It was unusual but they accepted that gift of privacy. It allowed for them to get to know each other freely and without much pressure so far.

But now, things have slightly changed with Jamie back in the spotlight, worse, linked to another woman. With all the things they’ve discussed so far, these - their past, the media - were not one of them yet. With that, it’s not that Claire didn’t want to hear Jamie’s story - it’s that she didn’t want him to feel forced to share something he or they aren’t ready to talk about yet.

“Just...please” he pleaded.

Claire took a swig of her coffee and nodded.

-

Flashback

Jamie was nearing his house when his father suddenly called. Clicking the screen on his dashboard, he answered his call.

“Yes, Da?”

“Hi lad, where are ye?” Brian Fraser spoke from the other line.

“I’m near home now. Why?”

“I just got off the phone with Lord Dunsany and he’s inviting the family for dinner.”

“Where will it be?”

“At the Number One”

“Alright, I’ll be there in 20, see you and ma, I hope!”

Jamie sighed but putting his family first overweighed whatever he was thinking about.

He honestly didn't like the Dunsany's that much. There was an air to them that didn't sit well with him but he shrugs them off as 1.) They are long time family friends, and more importantly, 2.) long time business partners.

Both their families have benefited from a decades-long relationship that going to unexpected dinners like this is something he just has to do once in a while. He turns his car to the next corner and heads to the restaurant.

Arriving, he hands his car to the valet and enters the restaurant to find their table. He should not have been surprised but seated on their table was his mam and da, the elder Dunsany’s and their eldest daughter, Geneva.

Again, after knowing each other for a long time, Jamie isn’t and wasn’t blind to Geneva’s attempts to flirt and get him. He was able to avoid it for so long as he’s always been respectfully direct with declining her advances. But as they grow older, the more persistent not only Geneva, but little by little, their entire family is joining in this cause to get them together.

Jamie took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever was to come. He sat down and immediately took note of the other people he wished were there. “Hi Mam, Da” he greeted his parents with a kiss on the cheek for his mother. He proceeded to his seat, acknowledging their guests. “Lord, Lady Dunsany, Geneva” he bowed to them and they returned his greeting. “Is Gideon and Isobel not joining us?

“They had other things to do” Geneva quickly replied, leaving it at that.

The night proceeded as usual, business talk over dinner. The Dunsanys are looking to expand their real estate business to the Americas and want to get the Frasers opinion on their dealings. On the topic at hand, the dinner was quite enjoyable as it was a conversation Jamie was happy to chime in.

Geneva, to his few observations, was relatively quiet for some reason. Maybe because she didn’t understand it as much since she  wasn’t as involved in the family business unlike his siblings, opting to work as a brand ambassador or influencer through her big social media following.

But it didn’t feel like that to Jamie. It seemed like she was waiting for something to happen or come up. She kept looking at her father urging him to do something but he discreetly pacified her everytime she got impatient.

After a few more minutes, Jamie’s hunch would prove right.

“So, in addition to the planned expansion, Geneva here has finally accepted our offer to join the business and she’ll be heading to the U.S. to study and eventually, train and oversee the project on behalf of us.” Lord Dunsany shared. The announcement came as a shock to the Frasers though they didn’t let it show. They offered their congratulations to Geneva which she graciously received.

“Jamie, lad - “ It was Lady Dunsany’s turn to speak. “We’ve heard in the past from your parents that you’ve been planning to take further studies as well. Why not accompany Geneva and study overseas together?”

“Your family also has some business in America. You can continue to work as well from there if you wish be. Plus, it’ll give you time to maybe get to know our little girl better.”

So, there it was. Lady Dunsany winked at his direction as she and Lord Dunsany tag-teamed to put out this request. Geneva, for her part, nodded furiously and was shameless at showing her agreement to their proposal. Her eyes gleamed with hope as if it was already a done deal.

Jamie was dumbfounded on their very bold request. He looked at his parents for help but they seem to be at a loss of words as well.

“I, uhm, - “ Jamie braced himself, unsure what the consequences of this be. “Thank ye of thinking of me but I have to respectfully decline the offer.”

“Do ye not want to study anymore? You don’t have to decide right now about this, please take your time to consider. We’re not in a rush anyway.” Lord Dunsany replied, trying to control the conversation once again. However, his last statement sent death glares down his direction from his daughter.

“No, it is still in my plans.” was Jamie’s plain answer. The table was silent for a good 10 seconds when the implication of his response sunk in.

“Are you saying it’s me you don’t want to be with?” Geneva’s tone was calm and angry, her resolve was slowly dissipating, raising everyone alert on the table.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s more of me...not wanting to leave someone behind.”

Geneva had a confused look while all four parents’ interest piqued at this new information. Jamie closed his eyes to muster the courage to get through the next minutes. He turned to his parents, addressing them directly, while being mindful of their guests.

“This is not how I imagined telling ye guys this, and of course to you Lord and Lady Dunsany, Geneva” he acknowledged them one by one before focusing on his parents again. “But I’ve started seeing someone and it’s fairly new...”

“That is ridiculous! You haven’t been seen with anyone in ages! I mean I would know if you are, our social circles are not that wide…” Geneva started reasoning to herself. “Unless… she’s not?”

Jamie didn’t react or say anything that would give Geneva or the Dunsany’s any more ideas they can prod on.

Geneva quickly fetched her phone and nibbled with it. She turned to the guests and excused herself. “I’m sorry everyone but I have to leave. Jamie, walk me to the car?”

Jamie nodded and stood up. He may have dropped a ball on her but he’s still a gentleman.

On the way out of the restaurant, he can hear more interrogation from Geneva in his periphery. “Who is she? Do I know her? Is she from here? Is she even real?”

It was one fast question after the other and Jamie didn’t bat an eye but rather, lead her by the arm to get her going a little bit faster. Once they were out, he didn’t notice anyone except her car and driver. He escorted her in and bid her simple goodbye.The last thing he heard Geneva say was it wasn’t over and that they’re going to have another talk on this.

When he got back to the table, the foursome was on to dessert, the earlier conversation seemingly forgotten and passed. When dinner was over, they went their separate ways.

Jamie walked his parents to their car when Brian made a joke to break the ice. “What a night, huh?” Ellen giggled which made their son comfortable speaking with them.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to make it awkward but I couldn’t find a way to lie about it or give them false hope.” Jamie explained and Brian and Ellen were happy to give him some slack as he knew it was the right thing to do.

“I know, son. But what we are more surprised to hear is about your new friend.” Ellen pried and the smile that Jamie flashed just told them this was different. “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Claire” Jamie shared.

“And?”

Jamie jokingly shrugged. “She’s a doctor and we met around 3 months ago.”

“3 months and we haven’t heard of her?”

“Well, in my defense, Angus and Rupert have met her. I assumed they would babble it straight to ye.”

Brian and Ellen was just shaking their head. “Well, we need to remedy that, lad. If yer ready or such, we’d love to meet her.”

-

“So that’s what happened last night. As for the picture, I’m guessing there’s a pap I did not see outside the restaurant and - my parents want to meet ye.“ Jamie said in conclusion. “I mean there’s no pressure really but I wanted to let ye know.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.” Claire took a bite of her sandwich and sip of water. “So, how are you in all this?”

“What?” that was the last question Jamie thought Claire would ask. “How am I?”

“Yeah, I mean what are you feeling?” she looked genuinely concerned and it baffled him.

“Is this some sort of reverse psychology thing cause I know you have questions Claire and I’m more than happy to answer them”

Claire smiled briefly and raised a hand to settle him. “I know you are and I do have them. And this is not some psychology thing too” she laughed at that. “But before anything else, I want to know how you are.”

“I - “ Jamie let out a breath and released a tension he didn’t know he was holding in. He wants to be open to Claire but he wasn’t sure just how much yet. Their growth has been slow, gradual, and intentional, and the pace was working well for the both of them. But this situation did not fit that criteria.

“It’s okay” Claire assured him, breaking his thoughts and easing his hesitation.

Jamie nodded and began. “With Geneva and the photo, I’m frustrated. I hope you know that this part of my life is not something I wanted to hide from you, Geneva especially. It’s just not something I thought about us talking about yet. With the media, maybe I was buying us some time before they got a whip of this, of us, when this needs to be public, and of course, I need to know how you feel about that, but then again, conversations for a later time. As for my parents, a little anxious but more intrigued on how you feel about it.” He was out of breath after explaining that it was his turn to take a sip of water.

“Jamie” Claire called and Jamie leaned on his screen closer. “I honestly don’t know what exactly to feel about Geneva at the moment. I get it, you have a long history and you might feel it doesn’t but it amounts to a little something. Was I surprised? Definitely. Jealous, to be honest, surprisingly not. But I would love it if you could tell me more about this and your family when I get back.”

“I’ll tell ye everything, Claire” Jamie affirmed.

“Doesn’t have to be everything at once” Claire joked and thankfully, Jamie laughed. “As for meeting your parents…”

“You don’t have to decide on that now, Claire.”

“I know. No pressure . But...” Claire smiled. “...if you feel like the time is right, let me know.”

Jamie felt relief as he flashed a breathless smile, looked up and wiped his face with his hands. Claire, on her end, put her elbow up on the table, leaned her head on her hand, and just observed him.

“Happy?” she asked.

“Very” Jamie replied. “I canna wait till you’re back, Sassenach.”

“I know, me too. Just one more week. Now,” Claire shuffled some papers around. “I do need to get back to work and you need to go to sleep”

“Aaah” Jamie pouted and looked at his watch, it was almost 10PM. “I can stay a little bit more, keep ye company.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me if you come in late to work tomorrow.”

“Eh, can’t promise that.” Jamie jokingly shrugged. “So, how’s your day so far?”

And just like that, after an uncertain overnight, everything was back to its good place again.  

[renee-writer]

Farmer's Daughter Chapter 31

AO3

Controlled chaos follows. Ian rushes to his wife. The children are gathered up and taken to a pre-arranged neighbors. Bags are gathered and everyone heads to the hospital.

“You don’t mind if we stay, do you?” Julia asks Ellen. “We aren’t intruding?”

“Goodness no. You are family.”

Jamie paces around the room like he was the expectant father. Claire laughs. “I can’t imagine you with our own if you are this stressed.”

He grins. “It is just Jenny, you know. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

Claire stands and joins him. “I know. She is strong and the stubbornness lass’ I know. If anyone can easily deliver twins, it will be her.”

“Aye, your sister will be fine.” Brian adds. Ellen had joined her as her labor progresses.

“Birth is perfectly natural. Our bodies are created to deliver babies.” Julia agrees.

He smiles at them all. All that is true but he won’t be completely calm until he sees her well and good with the twins in her arms.

The hours pass. All the women take turns with Jenny. Claire walks carefully into the room. Jenny sits on a huge ball. She is bouncing. At her look, Ian explains, “It help with the labor.” Claire nods and walks over to her. It is just in time for her to utter an ever increasing moan. Claire, with an instinct buried in her DNA, kneels beside her. She takes her hands.

“I am here. Just breath. Good.” Jenny clings to her and breaths and moans through the wave of pain.

“Thank you Claire.” She lets out a long shuddering breath. “They are getting closer.”

“That is good, right?”

“Aye and nae. Birth is closer but the pains get so much worse.”

“Me, Ian, or someone will be here.” The other woman smiles before a shudder as it starts to raise again.

An hour and fifteen contractions later, Claire tags out for Ellen. She needs her mam as the last few centimeters are hard won. Jamie catches her up as she enters the waiting room. “How is she? How are you?”

Claire gives him a shaky smile. “She is bloody amazing. So strong. I, on the other hand, it was scary Jamie. The pain she was in.”

“Baby you don’t have to worry about that for awhile. No matter what, I will be there.”

She nods against his chest and starts to say something when a ashen faced Ellen comes running in. It feels like slow motion, like a dream where everything happens like you are underwater, as all conversation stops and they all turn to her.

“Ellen?”

“Their heart rate dropped, the babies. They rushed her in for an emergency C-section. Only Ian could…” Her husband’s arms come around her. There is total silence for the measure of thirty of her pounding heartbeats.

“They will get them out and Jenny will be just fine.” Claire declares.

“That’s right. They can open her up in no time.” Julia adds.

“Yes, we will pray, yes, for her and the children?” Henry says. They gather around each other and do.

“The Murray family?” Everyone turns. Ellen and Brian step forward.

“Our daughter and grandchildren, are they…?”

“They are brilliant. You have a new grandson and granddaughter. Your daughter is in recovery. Your son-in-law is with her.”

Brian’s legs give out and he collapses in the seat behind him. “Oh thank God!”

“When can we see her?” Jamie asks.

“She should be in a room at half past the hour. You can then.” She smiles. “Congratulations to you all.”

“Thank you.” Ellen replies.

They take over the room. Jenny is beaming, sitting up in bed with a baby in each arm. “Family, meet Michael William and Janet Claire.”

[fangirl-writes]

Mommy?

Roger Taylor x Reader

Warning(s): Smoking, swearing, references to sex.

Notes: DISCLAIMER - Fake Wife. Fake Child. All things said and implied in this fic are fictional and have nothing to do with real life. No hate towards any of Roger's Previous or Current Relationships.

I imagined 80s!Roger, but you can go for Ben!Rog if it suits your fancy.

(PS This Roger Can Fuck Me Up)

Summary: After Roger's son mistakenly calls you mom, Roger begins to realize some things about you.

Roger was tired.

The moment he walked into the studio, you could tell.

His sunglasses were covering his eyes, but he was slightly hunched, his hair was a mess, and he only muttered a ‘morning’ instead of his usual boisterous announcement.

The other boys almost didn’t notice his arrival, too focused on tuning their instruments or going over some lyrics. It wasn’t until his son, Alexander, screamed at the sight of you did they look over.

“Hey, the little man is here,” Brian said with a smile as the boy let go of his father’s hand to fling himself into your outstretched arms.

You stood up and propped him on your hip before giving Roger a look. It wasn’t the first time he’d come in like this.

He turned away from you and started to head for the drum set.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing him abruptly by the elbow. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t meet your eyes through the dark sunglasses and was suddenly very interested in the color of the carpet. “Yeah, m’fine.”

“Rog-”

“Really, Y/N, m’fine. Just drop it, okay?”

You released him, not satisfied with his answer, but you didn’t want to get him going this early in the morning. It wasn’t worth it.

Alexander pulled at your necklace to get your attention.

You smiled at him, pulling the chain gingerly from his fingers. “Let’s go sit down, and we can watch your daddy and uncles practice, okay?”

Alexander nodded excitedly, and you took a seat on the couch in the control room, so it wasn’t too loud for the little boy’s ears.

Alexander’s mother, Cheryl, wasn’t exactly the perfect wife and mother. She and Roger had been involved in an unhappy marriage for quite some time now. You absolutely loathed the woman.

At first, all the boys thought you were just jealous, but over time they came to see her for what she truly was and never doubted your judge of character ever again.

Cheryl was one of those women who liked the celebrity life more than the celebrity. She liked Roger for his money and his fame, not just because he was Roger. It was despicable. They fought nearly every night, Roger would sometimes drink himself into a stupor, and poor little Alexander would call you on the phone to tell you that “Daddy’s had too much juice.”

He never said anything about Cheryl, but she was never there when you came over.

You’d known Roger wanted her only for a good shag the moment you’d met her and he’d accidentally called her Crystal.

“Really, Rog, it’s never going to last if you can’t even remember the girl’s name. And honestly, she seems like a bitch.”

You and Roger were sat outside Freddie’s place, passing a cigarette between you.

He glared at you. “Oh? And what’s your fuddy-duddy boyfriend’s name again? George? Jacob?”

“Jeremy, actually. But I’ll tell you a secret,” You said, leaning closer to the drummer. “I don’t think it’s going to last either.”

You took a drag from the ciggy.

“Shall we bet on it then?”

You laughed, the smoke exhaling from your mouth. “What?”

“Bet on it. Whichever of us dumps our piece first owes the other. Mm. Twenty?”

“Twenty?” You leaned even closer to him, nose to nose and voice just above a whisper. “Quite low for a Rockstar, don’t you think?”

Roger hummed in agreement, looking at your lips with desire behind his eyes. “Perhaps...”

You ran a finger across his jawline. “Unless, of course, you desire something else from this bet?”

He licked his lips before taking the bottom one between his teeth. “Maybe I do...”

“And what would that be?”

“I think you know very well what that would be.”

“Do I? Maybe I need a reminder.”

“Ah, a reminder...”

He was so close now. You could smell the scotch he’d stolen from Freddie’s cabinet on his breath over the tobacco. It was as intoxicating as the drink.

He was about to inch forward again when-

“ROGIE!” Cheryl called from inside. “Where have you gone?”

You scowled as Roger immediately pulled back from you and took the cigarette from your fingers, taking one last drag before snuffing it out with his shoe.

“Coming, er-”

“Cheryl.”

“Cheryl!”

Of course, you’d lost the bet because Cheryl became pregnant, and you didn’t think you could stand Jeremy for another nine months. Sometimes you thought he married her just to spite you.

You were a different woman then, and he was a different man. You grow up, and you change, and you get over petty feelings for someone you couldn’t have.

“It doesn’t fucking need slowing down! God, it’s fucking creeping at the moment!” Roger shouted.

The boys began bickering back and forth, causing Alexander to stir in your arms.

You laid the boy out on the couch and entered the recording room. “Would you be quiet! Alexander just got to sleep, and you’re arguing over a stupid pacing problem. Pick it up, slow it down, who the hell cares! Just be quiet.”

Brian and Roger shared a look before muttering to themselves and returning to their instruments.

“Thanks, mum,” John called from his chair. 

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Roger pulled off his sunglasses to rub a hand down his face, and you caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes. You frowned. Oh, how you wished you’d been wrong.

He caught your eye, looking guiltily away from you. Confirming all of your suspicions.

“I think we should take a break,” Freddie said, noticing your silent conversation.

All the boys seemed to agree and put their instruments down to follow you into the other room.

You picked up Alexander again and he moved against you.

“Shh, it’s okay, buddy, go back to sleep.”

The boy cooed against you, snuggling into your shoulder. “m’kay, mommy,”

Your mouth dropped open, Brian ran into the control board, John dropped his newspaper, Freddie’s eyes were wide, and Roger looked like he was going into shock.

You cleared your throat and rubbed Alexander’s back, swaying back and forth to put him back to sleep. Too surprised to say anything.

Roger seemed in the same boat because he wouldn’t stop staring at you, even after he’d sat down. It made you slightly nervous.

“Where’s Cheryl today?” Freddie asked, barely hiding the smile on his face behind his coffee cup.

You glared at him. He pretended not to notice.

“She uh-” Roger still wouldn’t stop looking at you. “Went out with some friends...I think. Wasn’t home when I got up.”

You scoffed. Of course, she wasn’t. Was she ever there?

Roger had just come to the same conclusion. It was no wonder his son called you mommy. When was the last time Alexander ever woke up to Cheryl being there? Or when he went to sleep? He couldn’t remember.

But he could remember you being there.

He guiltily remembers all the nights that Cheryl drives him to drink, and Alex has to call you for help. No little boy should have to use the phone, let alone memorize your number.

But you always came.

He started to wonder how many dates you had to cancel, how many friends you had to bail on. Just because Roger couldn’t get ahold of himself.

Had you always been that beautiful? He wondered, watching you stroke Alexander’s head. ‘Course you had. He could remember in the early days when you and him...

“I think I’m gonna divorce her.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it.

Brian choked on his coffee, John looked up from the newspaper with his eyebrows raised, and Freddie looked positively gleeful.

You were looking at him with wide-eyes.

“Is that so?” Freddie replied, barely hiding his joy. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You know, I always thought you and Y/-”

Brian elbowed him in the ribs.

The tables had now turned. You were avoiding Roger’s eyes while he stared at you intently.

Suddenly, a memory came flooding back to Roger. One blocked by his drunken brain.

“Roger,” You said, shaking his shoulder. “Come on, Rog, talk to me,”

Instead of replying, he garbled something sort of like words and you sighed.

“Well, at least you’re not dead. Come on,” You threw his arm over your shoulder and hefted him from his seat at the kitchen table.

Roger grumbled. “Alex...where’s-”

“He’s in bed. He called me.” There was bite in your voice, but he was too drunk to really notice.

“Mmmm...good. Always so good, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes. “God, you need a shower. Vodka, really? Picked the fucking worst thing to get wasted on.”

You dragged him into the nearest bathroom and dropped him in the shower before turning on the cold water.

“Bloody hell!” Roger yelled and you smacked your hand over his mouth.

“Keep shouting and you’re gonna wake up your son. Bet he’d be really overjoyed to see his father sitting in a shower fully clothed. Bet he’d ask a lot of questions-”

He smacked your hand away. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“Good. Now undress.”

He seemed to get shy for a moment, surprised by your request.

You rolled your eyes. “Come on, Rog, you can’t do this yourself, and it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

Seeing your logic, he relented and started undressing. Pulling his shirt over his head and handing it to you.

You smiled at him, taking it and setting it on the counter next to the sink.

He fiddled with his belt, grumbling as his fingers wouldn’t remember the action  that they’d done a thousand times before.

You set your hands on his gently. 

He looked up at you. “Let me.”

He dropped his hands and watched dumbly (and a little embarrassedly) as you undid his belt easily and pulled down his trousers.

Normally, he’d make a joke or cheeky remark about you wanting to get into his pants, but something about that night seemed to screw his mouth shut long enough for his eyes to really see you.

When he was finally naked (there was some trouble with the socks, he fell, you laughed, Roger cursed, you told him to shut up), you turned on the water again as he sat on the floor of the shower.

Roger swore under his breath. “Still gotta be fuckin’ freezing?”

“Yes. It’ll help sober you up,”

He pouted as you sat back down with the shampoo, conditioner, and soap, crossing your legs under you.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back underneath the stream of water to wet his hair. “You really need to stop doing this. One day, I might not be available.”

Roger hummed in response as you guided him back forward, removing your hand to pour the shampoo into it. “I know.”

You rubbed your hands together to make suds before running your fingers into his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just divorce Cheryl. She’s never there for you, and she’s definitely not there for Alexander like I-”

You didn’t continue, blushing mildly, but Roger understood what you were gonna say. ‘Like I am.’

Your fingers lathered the shampoo over his scalp and massaged his head. He felt like he was on cloud nine at the feeling of your hands running through his hair.

He whined when you stopped and you grinned. “Gotta rinse, ya big baby,”

He did as he was told, leaning back into the water without your help.

You smiled before getting up and sitting on the edge of the tub to help him get all of it out as well as washing the suds from your hands.

You repeated the notion with the conditioner.

“Think you can handle washing your body without help?”

Roger smirked. “I don’t know. I might need you to come and shower with me. Only way to really get me all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you’re definitely sober now. I’ll get you some new clothes and throw the other ones in the laundry.”

Roger missed you when you left.

He missed the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

It was weird. You two had had sex in the past, but it felt like that was the most intimate thing that you’d done. Roger felt taken care of. He hadn’t felt like that since...well since he was a kid.

Cheryl had never made him feel that way. They hadn’t even ever showered together, their intimacy was only sexual, it wasn’t loving or soft like-

Like you.

"Roger? Hey, Roger!”

He snapped out of his daze as Brian clicked his fingers in front of his face.

“You zoned out on us there, buddy, you okay?”

Roger blinked rapidly for a minute. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I was just lost in thought, I guess.”

“Please,” You finally spoke up. “You’re tired, Roger. We’ve all noticed.”

But you were the only one who would say anything.

“Y/N I-” He stopped. Unsure of what to say.

You were looking at him expectantly, curiosity filling your pretty (e/c) eyes. Did they always shine like that before?

“I- uh...” Why couldn’t he say anything? Why was it so hard to say what he was feeling? Was it because the guys were right there?

You sighed. “Roger, I really need to pee, so if you could take Alexander while you figure out what it is you need to say to me.”

You handed Alex gently over to Roger’s arms, the little boy’s sleep going uninterrupted. 

You left the room, and once you were out of earshot, all the boys turned to Roger with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” John asked.

“What? Of course, I am, what do you mean?”

“Well, for starters, Alexander called Y/N ‘mommy,’ and then you totally shut down. Like you stared at her for a good fifteen minutes.”

Roger felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

“Then you said you were going to divorce that retched Cheryl, which I hope you were serious about, by the way,” Freddie said.

“Of course, I was serious about it. I think it’s time I got rid of ‘er. Honestly, Y/N’s been telling me for years-”

All the boys started grinning.

“What?”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else?”

“What? Do you menaces want me to say I’m in love with Y/N? Because you already fucking know that.”

Brian handed John a few bills.

Freddie clapped his hands together. “Well, finally! Honestly, I’ve been waiting for you two darlings to get together and honestly-”

“Fred!” You scolded, coming back into the room just as Alexander sat up from Roger’s chest.

“Daddy?” The boys said sleepily. “Daddy, where’s mommy?”

You frowned. “Alexander, you’re mommy is-”

“Right here,” Roger said, making you look at him with surprise.

Alexander gestured with his hands for you and you picked him up off of Roger, who was grinning ear to ear.

“You think you’ll ever want to be a mother?” Roger asked, running his fingertips along your arm. The two of you were laying in his bed, cuddled up together, his gray sheets the only thing covering your bodies.

“That’s an odd question, considering,”

He rolled his eyes. “Just answer,”

“Someday, yes, with the right guy,” You replied. “What about you? Any plans on becoming a daddy?”

He smirked at you. “Well, I mean, occasionally-”

You lightly smacked his chest. “You know what I mean.”

He chuckled a moment before looking down at you. “Yeah. Someday. Not soon, though. My life’s too unpredictable right now. I’m hardly in one place.”

You hummed. “You still find time for me.”

He kissed your temple. “I’ll always find time for you.”

“And I’ll always be there for you,”

Looking back on it, Roger had been in love with you even back then. Friends didn’t do what you two did. What a fool he was for not acting on it. Perhaps he’d been afraid of love.

But, now, looking at you, he wasn’t afraid at all. His heart was full.

“Roger, what’re you-”

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

You nodded, not about to turn him down.

You passed Alexander to John before following Roger out of the studio.

You stopped just out front and watched as he dug into his pocket and pulled out his lighter and package of cigarettes, taking one out before offering the pack to you.

You shook your head. “I don’t do that anymore.”

He smiled, stuffing them back into his trousers and lighting the cig. He breathed in deeply before exhaling, the white smoke falling from his lips. “I shouldn’t.”

“I know. I’ve told you,”

You had a strange sense of Deja Vu as you watched Roger smile, pressing the cigarette to his lips.

You shivered, crossing your arms, goosebumps crawling up them.

“Here,” Roger shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

Accepting the offer, you slid your arms in the sleeves and pulled it tight. It was surprisingly warm and smelled like his cologne.

He reached over and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers.

You looked over at him as he took another drag from the cigarette.

Suddenly frustrated, you plucked it from his fingers and extinguished it with the heel of your boot. 

He turned to you, surprised, sunglasses covering his eyes. You reached up and pulled them off, revealing his tired blue eyes to you.

You sighed, reaching up and running your fingers through his soft hair. “What are you doing, Roger?”

“Trying to work up the guts to tell you I love you.”

You were shocked, hand stilling at the back of his neck. “You- you do?”

He smiled. “I think I always have. Just never realized it until now.”

You laughed, tears coming to your eyes. “I don’t know what to say,”

“How about that you love me too?” Roger replied, his own eyes watering.

“I love you. Rog, I’ve loved you for years.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, a soft laugh passing his lips. “Well, that’s a relief. If only that was it. If only we were ten years younger and I was gonna take you back to my hotel room and show you exactly how much I love you.”

You laughed. “Sorry, Rockstar,” - you placed the sunglasses back on his head - “but you’ve got a kid I adore to take care of and a nasty wife to divorce.”

“Ah, well, right now, all I wanna do is kiss you like I’m twenty-five.”

He leaned closer to you, nose bumping with his. His breath smelled like tobacco, but it was the furthest thing from your mind.

“And perhaps I’ll let you,”

This was all he needed before advancing the last few inches and pressing his lips to yours.

It was different than how you had kissed in the past. This was new. It was full of love and longing. It made your heart ache with happiness as you clung to him.

Roger sighed into the kiss, absolutely blissful. You tasted sweet, just like he remembered. His hands slid up your back, the leather of his jacket cold against his fingers.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

It almost pained Roger to pull away from you.

You grinned, turning around to see Alexander running out of the door towards you. John was standing in the doorway, mouthing an apology as Brian and Freddie peaked over his shoulder.

You bent down, brought the little boy into your arms, and stood back up to look at Roger.

He couldn’t help but smile as his two favorite people beamed at him.

Roger ruffled Alexander’s hair, making him giggle.

Freddie grinned from behind John. “What a perfect family.”

Brian shook his head with a small laugh. “It’s not over yet.”

“Far from it,” John added.

Freddie waved their comments off. “Well, right now, I think they look pretty happy. In fact, Brian, would you do the honors?”

Brian brought his camera to his eye and snapped a photo. 

[anoutlandishfanfic]

The Alaskan Endeavor: Ch2 - Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

So, again, this chapter update (can I call them PUPdates? they’re now PUPDATES) is in celebration of another race that finished up yesterday morning -- the Kuskokwim 300 aka The Kusko300, which is one of if not THE most competitive middle distance race in Western Alaska. We’ll get to the pups and more about racing in the next chapter but HERE WE HAVE THE MEETING Y’ALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR.

You can find chapter one here or over at AO3!!

Claire That evening

The Murray’s residence wasn’t far from my flat above the Abernathy’s garage — nothing in this tiny hamlet was — and I decided to walk the four blocks, taking in a remarkable summer’s evening.

Joe had warned me that the shift in daylight hours was more extreme here in Kozebue — twenty-six miles above the Arctic Circle — than where we’d reconnected on Kodiak Island… and I had to admit he was right. I’d made good use of the black out curtains that were installed in the bedroom, shutting out the sun that insisted on shining well into the night and starting up again ungodly early in the morning. I knew I’d have no trouble making my way back on foot after dinner.

It would still be broad daylight.

I rounded the final corner and scanned the lane for my destination…

“It’s a blue house with white trim… second on the left,” Joe’s wife Gail had easily informed me, for the Abernathy’s and the Murray’s were old friends.

Gail’s eyes had held the same suspicious twinkle that Jenny’s had when she’d invited me for dinner and I had a sinking suspicion that I was about to be set up on a blind date, hosted by Jenny Murray herself. My new patient had mentioned she had a brother when she was in earlier and if I were the betting sort, I’d place my life savings on him being the man in question.

How on earth did you let yourself get roped into this, Beauchamp? I sighed ruefully to myself as I spotted the abode.

Crossing the street, I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my pounding heart as I got closer to the Murray’s front door. It was no use, of course, for it had firmly lodged itself in my throat about a block and a half back, and I was left trembling slightly as I mounted the front steps.

Wiping sweaty palms on my pants, I lifted my hand and knocked. Once — twice — three times.

… Jamie

“Can you get that?” Jenny shouted from the kitchen, the usual clamor of my nieces and nephew interfering but not obscuring her words.

Passing the youngest back to her father, I stood and answered, “Aye, I’ve got it!”

I wiped at the deposit of crumbs that wee Katie had left behind on my shirtfront, tugging at the hem in an attempt to flatten out the wrinkles pressed into it by the same. I shook my head and gave it up, knowing it was useless and that it shouldn’t really matter anyway.

Rolling my eyes at the ridiculous concern for my own appearance, I turned into the front hall and padded quickly down the plush rug to the door.

I turned the knob and pulled — then stopped dead as the door opened.

Christ, she was beautiful.

Her pale cheeks were slightly flushed, which made the small smattering of freckles across her nose stand out like brilliant stars. The curls were coming out of a plait that was draped over one shoulder and it gave her a delightfully adventurous air. She was a brunette like Jenny, but not nearly quite so dark. The light streaming in from behind her set brilliant copper highlights aglow as she flipped the thick queue away, making it disappear behind her.

One perfectly arched brow rose in question of me — and I knew I was staring — but the ability to form coherent speech left me entirely as her eyes locked on to mine.

Brown would be a woefully inaccurate word to describe such a hue as hers. They were rich like a fine whisky, a deep amber that all at once soothed and pierced your soul.

Pull yerself together, you clotheid.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure and took a step back, sweeping a hand to usher her in.

“You, ah, must be Dr Claire,” I stammered, my lips still not completely able to do my bidding. “I’m Jamie, Jenny’s brother.”

Comprehension lit her eyes and she chuckled softly.

God, that sound.

It sent shockwaves up and down my spine and stood the hair on the back of my neck on end.

What I wouldn’t do to make her laugh like that again.

“Tell me, Jamie,” she kept her voice low, a conspiratorial gleam sneaking into her eyes. “Have Jenny and Gail been playing matchmaker with us?”

Raking a hand through my hair, I confessed dryly, “They’ve been trying to set me up for years.”

She tipped her head back and laughed outright and freely at my confirmation, commenting, “I thought so, but then I’d only met your sister this morning.”

“I’ve known her my whole life,” I grinned back at her. “Once Jen gets an idea in her head, it’s best to let her have at it ‘til it peters out on its own... unless it involves that wee fiend of hers.”

Delicate, slender fingers lifted to her lips as the color deepened in her cheeks, amusement still high in her voice, “Are you talking about Roger?”

“Right! Yes!” It was my turn to laugh. “You’ve met the numpty yourself.”

She grinned, “I’ve had the pleasure, yes.”

“Did she tell you he’s a service dog drop out?” I shook my head in mock derision.

Her eyes grew as big as saucers, nearly dropping the bag in her hand as she burst, “No!!”

“Oh, aye!” I scoffed, but my smile crept back in and betrayed my amusement at the whole ordeal.

“Too friendly… and easily distracted.”

“Are you two done bletherin’ out here?” My brother in law Ian stuck his head into the hallway, succinctly interrupting us with a knowing look.

“The food’s gettin’ cold!”

… Claire

Tucked between Jamie and his seven year old namesake, dinner was far from a dull affair. Jenny proved to be a remarkable cook and the table conversation ranged in topics from a nuanced detail of racing — that is, mushing — to my favorite animal.

“Do you mean in general,” I tested the waters, assembling another forkful of roast and potatoes, “or in a specific class or order?”

The little boy’s eyes lit up and I knew I’d found a topic that he particularly enjoyed… which was a stroke of luck for me, being that animals and their care was my field of expertise.

Thank God it wasn’t dinosaurs.

“Mammals!” He eagerly narrowed the field, then zeroed in even further, “What’s your favorite African mammal?!”

“Oh, that’s easy! A giraffe!” I supplied, my smile matching his. “I got to see them in the wild, you know… in Tanzania.”

This caught the attention of the rest of the table and began to field questions left and right about my time on the Serengeti. I didn't mind, as they were happy memories, and soon won over both the younger Jamie and his five year old sister Maggie with tales of elephants and zebras and all of the animals they’d only read about in books or seen on television.

“Did you see any lions?” Little Maggie’s voice dropped into what I supposed was her version of a whisper — as if one were right beside us — and she nearly vibrated with excitement as she asked again, “Did you see any lions, Dr Claire?!”

I heard Jamie, the elder and my supposed date for the evening, chuckle beside me and I wondered just what sort of mischief this little one could get into when she set her mind to it.

“I did see lions too, Maggie,” I assured her, taking on her affected stage whisper. “We went in a truck at night and had big flashlights and saw them getting a drink of water.”

“Dey sirsty,” two year old Katie informed the table proudly, making all of the adults grin.

I bit my lip to keep from chuckling at her innocent attempt at being involved in the conversation, but agreed, “They get very thirsty.”

“How’d ye wind up in Alaska, then?”

This turn in conversation came from Jamie’s father, an older man by the name of Brian.

“I went to university with Joe Abernathy in Seattle,” I supplied. “We went separate ways after graduation but I ran into him again when I was visiting my uncle on Kodiak Island… Joe offered me a position at his clinic and I couldn’t refuse.”

“He’s done a lot of good wi’ that practice of his,” Brian commented. “Been a dream of his for some time now.”

Nodding, I smiled at the memory of Joe’s eager rants and rails, “He spoke quite a bit about it in school. I knew how much it meant to him and was eager to help him in his cause.”

“He almost worked himself to death before you came along,” Jenny snorted, then shot me an apologetic look. “Bein’ the only vet in the Northwest Borough made for long hours an’ no rest.”

“That’s why I wanted to come… to ease the burden a bit.”

“Well, then you’re a saint, Dr Claire,” she sighed, surmising with a shake of her head.

“No,” I assured her quietly. “I’m just plain old Claire Beauchamp.”

… Jamie. After Dinner.

“Wait just a minute,” I protested. “You walked here?!”

We were at the front door again, this time in full control of my faculties, but the woman before me was quickly turning out to be more of an complexity than I ever imagined possible.

Her brow furrowed at this, as if she hadn’t thought of the incongruity of her walking the mile from the Abernathy’s to here on foot.

“Yes… why?”

“Well, it’s… it’s just that…'' I stammered, flummoxed. “Don’t you have somethin’ to drive?”

“Of course,” she looked at me as if I’d sprouted five heads from my shoulders. “I have a perfectly good vehicle, but why drive it four blocks when it’s beautiful outside and I can walk?”

I opened my mouth to respond to this and found I didn’t have a reasonable answer. She found great amusement in this and crossed her arms, waiting for me to respond.

Shaking my head, I gave it up and couldn’t help but smile as I offered to walk her home.

This took her by complete surprise and her jaw dropped, “Why?!”

“Well,” I pulled at the back of my neck, trying to come up with something and shrugged helplessly, “like you said… it’s a beautiful evening.”

Her brows nearly rose to her hairline, not buying this for one moment.

“Look, it’s the polite thing to do, aye? I know you live at the Abernathy’s because Joe told me… I’ll leave just as soon as you’ve made it to the front door, I promise,” I insisted. “Nothin more.”

She contemplated this, then clarified, “Just a walk?”

I dropped my hands, swinging my hands away from my sides in a clearing motion and then against them again with a soft pat.

“Just a walk.”

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 18

18/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

Scully, Mulder, and Missy travel to California to meet Emily and wrestle with the future.

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

The echo of Scully’s heels against the linoleum is almost enough to drown out her racing heart. Mulder’s thumping steps and her sister’s daintier ones help too, but their collective power does nothing to ease Scully’s awareness that the Earth circles the sun at a thousand miles per hour. Today, she’s feeling every bit of it. 

The three of them round a corner, and a broad-shouldered man and tiny-waisted woman come into view. Agent Feniston and the lawyer, this must be. Outside of conference room C--as planned. 

Straightening every disc in her spine, Scully extends a hand and exchanges a firm shake with each of them. Mulder and Melissa hang back. 

“Dana Scully,” she declares. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“That decision rested with the foster parents,” the male agent insists. “As does any from this point forward.”

“Yes, and I’ll be sure to thank them as well,” Scully acquiesces.

“Hello, Ms. Scully.” The lawyer uncrosses her ankles. “I’m Tanya Joyce, you can call me Tanya. As a representative of the state of California, my priority is guarding the child’s wellbeing and ensuring that any choice made is what’s best for her.”

“Of course,” Scully murmurs. “Thank you for being here.”

Tanya thumbs toward the closed door of the conference room. “Brian and Cecily are eager to meet you. The foster system has extremely limited information on little Emily. Your testimony will help us all fill in some blanks.”

Scully nods. “Me as well...this is as much a surprise for me as all of you.”

“Are we to understand that you were not aware you bore a child, Ms. Scully?” Agent Feniston asks. 

“Yes, sir. I know it’s quite hard to believe, I feel the same. I was missing for a period of time last year and was comatose when I returned.”

“Yes, and how long was that period of time, Ms. Scully?”

The edges of her lips fall. “Approximately five weeks.”

“So is it safe to assume that though the child shares your DNA, you did not carry her?”

“No sir, not that I know of. I believe that my eggs were harvested, and she was...well, she comes from one of those.”

The agent hums a note of acknowledgement. “As I told you over the phone, the federal database contained no viable DNA match of a father.”

Scully nods. “Yes sir, and I have no knowledge of what sperm may have been used.”

“Noted.” He rubs his neck. “We were lucky, we only found you because you were in the missing persons database.”

“I had no idea I was still listed there,” Scully says. “I’ve asked the FBI to remove it.”

“Well, it was a stroke of luck for us,” the agent tells her. “This little girl’s foster parents encouraged the state to pursue child abandonment charges against whoever left her. She was found outside a local care center at two weeks old, as I’ve told you.”

“Yes.” Scully purses her lips. She imagines a baby with her eyes, nose, toes, chromosomes crying on a nondescript doorstep...she and Mulder did not know what they were doing when they said they wanted the truth. 

“We’ve already confirmed your story with the FBI,” Feniston continues, “and we have proof that you were working on cases in the east at the time of Emily’s delivery to the foster center, so you are free of any child abandonment charges.”

“Wonderful,” Scully replies, but really, those were the least of her concerns. “May I see my daughter now?” 

That’s the first time she’s ever said that sentence, and she didn’t expect terror to shoot up her spine. Is this what it is, having an extension of your life outside your body?

The lawyer steps forward. “I’ll introduce you to Brian and Cecily, they’d like to speak with you first.”

Scully does not like the way that sits in the air. Still, she musters a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

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

Mulder and Melissa make themselves at home on a pair of leather chairs outside the conference room. They have been the pall-bearers keeping Scully aloft as her crushed dreams reinvent themselves as high hopes. They don’t understand how it happened any more than Scully herself: one phone call turned into multiple consultations with Agent Feniston, then Tanya and California Social Services and finally, DC social workers who performed background checks and prepared forms so that Scully could come here today to meet her baby and, God-willing, bring her home.

It doesn’t happen this fast, it never does--different voices said these same words to them a dozen times. And yet, barely two weeks after Agent Feniston’s fated voicemail, here they are. On All Hallow’s Eve, no less. Just in time for Emily to complete her first rotation around the sun.

They both play contrasting yet crucial roles in Operation Miracle Baby, as Mulder dubbed it. Dana has sobbed into Missy’s shoulder every night for the past two weeks; happy tears (her baby! she has a baby!), sad tears (she has a baby…and she didn’t even know...), scared tears (a baby! a baby, Missy! probably already walking, and maybe even talking if she’s exceptional...). The situation--and its implications--are impossible to reconcile in such a short time, if at all. Scully’s petite frame could not physically contain it. 

Mulder’s the comic relief, the distraction, the reminder that nothing can be so grave if there's still breath left in your body. He bought a CD of nursery rhymes and stuck in it his beat-up office radio, playing it through the day while Scully labored over this form or that and he pretended to alphabetize the case file drawer. Now, he hums himself to sleep every night with one of those rhymes; he’s hoping this new skill will come in handy. 

He would’ve bought toys and baby clothes too, but Melissa made him swear not to in case the adoption falls through. And she’s right, he can’t bear to imagine the pain Scully would feel packing those away. For sale: baby shoes, never worn hits you no matter who you are. Still, he has a stuffed UFO and a Build-a-Bear fox (yes, he went in and filled it himself) hidden in his closet, and he hopes they won’t go to waste. 

Operation Miracle Baby has been as covert as anything Mulder’s ever been involved in. He, Melissa, and Mrs. Scully are the only ones in his partner’s circle with any knowledge of what’s going on. No one else, in Scully’s words, matters. Trinity too has received a full briefing from Missy and is ecstatic about her girlfriend potentially becoming an auntie. Skinner was told it was a family emergency--and well, it is--though surely he’s suspicious about both of his agents requesting time off. Bill Jr. has no idea they’re in San Diego, though they may seek “refuge” (the air quotes are Missy’s) at his place if the proceedings drag on. 

This is a triumph or failure to be shared only with those most beloved, that’s what Scully said to them the night before they boarded the plane. Mulder has never been included in anyone’s most beloved before. It feels pretty damn good.

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

The perky lawyer raps on the conference room door, opening it in response to a voice on the other side. Scully’s breath catches….a strawberry-haired infant rests in her mother’s arms (Scully hates to think it, but surely this woman is more Emily’s mother than she is), pulling at a lock of the woman’s blonde hair. 

The woman turns her way, and Scully gets her first glimpse at Emily’s face. Emily. Her baby. She wondered the whole flight here whether she would feel a connection….a sense of recognition...upon laying eyes on her daughter. And my god, it’s like some chained section of her heart has burst open, flooded with all the good feelings of the world. Icy blue eyes and cherub cheeks...that’s her baby. That’s her baby.

She watches as her baby is passed to a woman in a CA Social Services button-up who slides past Scully in the doorway like she’s not even there. Scully has a split-second to notice the dimples on her daughter’s cheeks, but that’s it. Emily’s gaze misses her entirely. 

Tanya strides toward the couple in the room, Scully following behind. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace, this is Dana Scully, Emily’s biological mother.”

“We’re so glad to meet you,” the man says, shaking Scully’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m Brian, and this is my wife Cecily.”

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Scully tells them, shaking Cecily’s hand in kind. “I understand you’ve cared for Emily since shortly after she arrived at social services.”

“Yes,” Cecily confirms. “She came to us when she was a month old. Raising her has been an absolute joy.”

Brian nods. “She’s the second infant we’ve fostered. We adopted our first one, Andrew, when he was a year and a half.” 

“I didn’t realize you had another child,” Scully converses, feeling out of her depth. “It must have been quite a transition, taking Emily in.”

“It sure was, but she’s an angel, truly,” Brian says. “We couldn't fathom that someone could abandon her and get away with it, that’s why we contacted Agent Feniston.”

Cecily chimes in--”We were told the chances of finding a DNA match in the federal database was slim. We didn’t expect to learn that you were unaware of Emily’s existence!”

“Yes, I’m still coming to terms with it all,” Scully replies. “I’m grateful that you’ve given me the opportunity to see her, at the very least.”

“When we heard your story, we knew it would be heinous of us to say no,” Cecily says, offering a sympathetic smile. 

“You’re an FBI agent, did we hear that right?” Brain asks.

“Yes sir, I’ve been with the Bureau five years now.”

“You live in DC?”

Scully nods. “Around the corner from the National Mall.”

“That’s exciting!” Cecily pipes up. “How did you find yourself having Emily in San Diego?”

“I actually have no idea, Mrs. Lace,” Scully murmurs. “My family lived here when I was young, but I haven’t been back since. Coincidentally, my brother lives not too far off.”

“Wow,” Cecily gasps. “They weren’t kidding about you being a missing person.”

“No ma’am.” She went from a missing person to missing a person. No wonder she’s spent the past year feeling so empty. 

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

Mulder and Melissa get only the slightest moment to catch their breath before a child that is unmistakably the progeny of Dana Scully is carried into the lobby. Her hair curls around her ears in a cute mushroom top, her tongue dancing in her mouth like it has a mind of its own. They stare; they know better, but fuck it, if any baby is worth staring at, it’s this one. 

“Is that--?” Mulder whispers.

“Yeah,” Missy breathes. 

They’ve both seen the pictures, they are well aware that it’s her. They say these things for the awe of it. 

“She’s…” Mulder’s eyes are wide. “She’s bigger than I thought she would be. Not fat, I mean. Just...a whole tiny human.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Melissa smiles at her niece, who is now seated on her caretaker’s lap across the hallway. Emily’s big eyes blink at her, containing silent judgements. How like her mother she is.

Missy elbows Mulder. “I bet she orders mushroom pizza and then picks the mushrooms off because apparently ‘the cheese tastes better than on the regular cheese pizza,’” she muses, naming one of her sister’s quirks. 

Mulder likes this game. “I bet she vehemently denies the existence of extraterrestrials only to secretly believe that her dashing partner is right,” he offers.

Missy smirks. “I bet she would find this game very stupid if she understood it.”

“I’m all in on that one.” Mulder mimes pushing a pile of poker chips into the center of a table. 

Missy laughs, looks toward her seat partner with soft eyes. “She’s gonna be a great mom, isn’t she? Dana, I mean?”

“Oh yeah.” Mulder clasps his hands in his lap. “We should be so lucky to have a little Scully in the world.”

“Mm-hm.” Missy focuses on his face, watching for the slightest move that might give his thoughts away. “And she’ll be able to do it alone, do you think?”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll need some help from Mrs. Scully, and you, and…” he trails off before adding his own name, but Missy’s mind fills it in reflexively. “She’ll need help,” Mulder finishes, “but yeah, she’ll be incredible.”

The details have already been parsed out. As a single mother, Scully is required to list a guardian who would take custody of Emily if something were to happen to her. She listed her mother as the primary one--the social worker told her it’s best if it’s someone who has child-rearing experience--and Missy as the secondary guardian. She would, after all, already live in the child’s household. 

Then there was the matter of the job--its extensive time requirements, travelling, and danger level were all of concern to the agency. This came as no surprise to Scully; a single female FBI agent does not make the ideal adoption candidate. And though she hasn’t yet spoken to the Bureau, Mulder has promised her they’ll work something out. It can be like your leave of absence, he assured her. You tackle the paper trail and I’ll focus on following the suspect’s trail. Easy-peasy.

That’s what he says to her, though he’s terrified of losing her as his partner...Of her being reassigned to something simpler or leaving the Bureau entirely. She could teach at Quantico, that schedule would be a hell of a lot easier than running on Mulder time. Agent Scully can pack for hastily-booked flights at midnight then catch them at 7am, but Emily’s mother couldn’t. He will have to reckon with this if all the pieces fall into their graceful place. He’ll have to figure out how to rearrange their partnership for her, or even worse, how to live without her as his partner. Or maybe even at all. 

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

Scully glances at her shoes, then summons the courage to meet Mrs. Lace’s hazel eyes. “I hope you will consider my request. I know it’s not up to you entirely--the court will have the final say--but my abduction experience has left me unable to have a biological child, so learning of Emily was truly a miracle of the highest order.” 

Her voice clips as she takes a breath. “I understand that it would be a huge sacrifice on the part of your family, and that you’ve developed a bond with Emily over the past eleven months. I just ask you both to please...think about it.” Tears twinkle in her eyes. She made it, thank god, she made it without breaking down! She’s rehearsed that speech ten times over.

Cecily lays a hand on her husband’s arm. “Of course, Dana. It would be a painful sacrifice to us, you’re correct, but we understand that you’ve flown across the country to be here, and that you’ve brought witnesses to testify to your character, so your commitment is clear. We’ll listen and make as compassionate a decision as possible.”

Scully’s lips creep into a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” She steps back, the weight of imminent sobs settling over her chest. 

“Ms. Scully has already undergone most of the requirements needed for adoption,” the lawyer tells Mr. and Mrs. Lace. “Medical clearance, psychiatric clearance, criminal background check, and home study. In the spirit of her unique circumstances, California and the District of Columbia have agreed to cooperate to make the process as smooth and expedient as possible, if you should choose to surrender Emily to her. I don’t mean to sway your decision in any way, just to give you all the available information.” 

The couple nods. “Thank you, Tanya,” Cecily answers. “We’d like to speak with the first witness now.”

Scully balks. She expected more questions, a barrage of them, as intense and prying as if she were testifying in front of Congress. And she was ready for that--she was prepared to do whatever they asked of her, to show that there are no lengths she wouldn’t go for Emily. She’s already documented every detail of her life for social services and given over the necessary specimens to prove that no, she’s not a drug user, and yes, her thyroid is hyperactive, but she takes medication for that and her doctor will confirm that it’s under control. 

And if they wanted to know more, she’d tell them. She’d tell it all. Her deepest, darkest secret (telling Daniel that yes, he should leave his wife & kids...all for her, to be with her), the most petty thing that haunts her (stolen cigarettes, smoked on the family porch at 1am), what she wants to say most but can’t (I love you)...a part of her was taken to create Emily. She would give the rest away to keep her.

There was a moment, in one of the drab little interrogation rooms at DC social services, where Scully was met with a question that lunged toward her like a time-bomb. Pull the fuse, pull the fuse it taunted her. See what happens. Instead, she played it off. Pretended she didn’t hear its doomed tick. Feigned none the wiser. No, she isn’t aware of any potential medical condition that would inhibit her life expectancy or ability to care for a child, she told the nice woman. Thank god they got the chip out of her neck before it showed up on any x-rays. 

She snaps back to reality, watching as the conference door opens, and her sister enters the room. 

“Thank you, Dana,” Tanya says, and she assumes that’s the lawyer’s way of telling her to get out, so she does. Outside the room, she settles next to Mulder in a seat that’s still warm.

“How’d it go in there, champ?” he chatters. “You need some water or anything?”

Scully’s not listening. Her eyes are trained on the baby girl across the way with hair too auburn to be brunette that’ll require a smattering of box dye every two weeks to qualify her as a soulless ginger. 

Emily’s eyes land on the woman she does not know is her mother, studying this new face with an infant’s usual curiosity. Mulder has realized by now that the little girl is of much more interest to his partner than he is, and he watches as mother and daughter wave to each other.

Scully lets out a laugh so strangled that for a moment Mulder thinks it’s a cry and jumps to comfort her. He relaxes back into his seat once he sees the joy on her face.

“She’s a sweetheart, huh?” Mulder wisecracks as the young girl jams her fingers into her mouth.

Scully beams. “She’s a baby, that’s her way of learning the world!”

“Hey, I’m not knocking it. That’s my personal preference as well,” he says with a lop-sided smile. 

“Yeah, well, she’s not licking evidence,” Scully quips. 

Mulder shrugs. “A man can’t help his oral fixation. Haven’t you ever heard of Freud…?” he lets it slide off his tongue. 

Scully rolls her eyes. His inability to maintain an appropriate manner is nothing if not inspiring. 

She gestures toward Emily. “You’re already encouraging bad behavior. Tsk-tsk,” she teases. 

“That’s my job as--hey, wait. What’s she gonna call me?” If you get custody, of course passes silently between them.

“I don’t know, Mulder,” Scully says, watching her daughter out of the corner of her eye. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” That’s a lie. She’s sat up during the night trying to decipher Mulder’s relation to Emily. He would certainly be the male authority in her life, but that doesn’t make him a father figure. Right? 

Scully adored her father because he was the head of the family, and he embraced the responsibility, always making sure they had what they needed. While her mother was often the one doing the grunt work of caring for them, her father provided for them. His long deployments with the Navy protected them. Scully understood his sacrifice and loved him for it 

That’s not how it would go with Emily. If she were so lucky as to get the child, Scully would be the caretaker and the provider. A two-in-one deal with a high price. What would that mean, for Emily? Scully could do it, she believes that. Not that it would be anything less than utterly exhausting, but with a little help from her mother and her sister, she could make do, and they say it takes a village to raise a child anyway, so what’s so bad about that?

Since she’s filling those roles herself, that leaves...well, Mulder could be the fun uncle, that fits him. Bill Jr. isn’t gonna cut it, and neither is Charlie, considering that he’s god knows where. Besides, it’s unlikely that Mulder will get a chance to know a biological niece or nephew. He and Emily could fill missing pieces in each other’s lives.

Scully’s eyes trace the contours of her partner’s face. “Do you have a preference about what she calls you?”

“I was hoping for His Royal Highness Fox Mulder of Martha’s Vineyard--is that too much?”

Scully lets a strand of hair fall over her face. “It might take her awhile to get her tongue around that.”

“Or it’ll speed up her speech acquisition,” Mulder replies. 

“Oh, you’re a child-rearing connoisseur now?”

Mulder twiddles his thumbs. “It is my goal to raise the first kid to transcribe canine language into English.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware of that,” Scully tells him, a smile flitting on her lips. It’s this kind of banter that keeps her sane. A few minutes out here with him, and she’s forgotten that what happens in that conference room will dictate the rest of her life. 

Across the hallway, Emily giggles at the air, and it fits, doesn’t it? Here she is, already laughing at Mulder’s jokes like the Scully girl she is. 

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

It feels like a prisoner exchange when witness number one in their civil-that-sure-feels-like-a-criminal case joins Scully back in the hallway, and Mulder is called forward “to the stand.” He swears he found a penny in the parking lot this morning & promises to bring back good news. Scully’s pretty sure he made that story up, but she’s no less hopeful that it’ll come true.

Returned from her brief stint in captivity, Missy dives right into a discussion of her niece: “Look at her, Dana, she looks just like you!”

“Well, she does have fifty percent of my DNA,” Scully concedes with an admiring glance at the little girl.

“Have you gone over to see her?”

Scully shakes her head. “I didn’t think that would be proper.”

“Are you kidding me?” Missy retorts. “First of all, Brian and Cecily are very nice people, and I’m not supposed to say this, but I think there’s a chance that Emily will be yours. Secondly, this could be your only opportunity to interact with your daughter and you’re not gonna take it?”

Scully bites her lip. Her sister knows how to craft an argument. “Alright, but you have to back me up.”

“Trust me, I wanna see her just as badly as you.”

Scully steels herself, then approaches the woman in the polo shirt. “Hello.” She does a polite half-wave, which she’s never done before and which makes her feel ridiculous. “I’m the potential adoptee, and I was wondering if I could say hello to this precious little girl.” It all feels completely out of character, like she’s reading lines from a script. But this is it, this is her reality.

The woman’s face offers little in the way of recognition. “You can have a supervised visit with her, yes,” she recites, as rehearsed as Scully. 

“Great.” Scully claps her hands together. “May I take her to my sister right over there?”

The woman nods. Scully lays her hands on Emily’s waist and lifts the girl gently from the woman’s lap. She is heavier than Scully imagined, or maybe just heavier than she hoped. Every ounce is a reminder of unseen existence and unwitnessed growth.

Emily does not balk, just stares up at her mother with those probing eyes. 

“Hi baby girl,” Scully coos to her daughter as she settles her against her hip. “Can you say hi? Have you got that one yet?”

The girl blinks. “Ma-ma.”

Scully crooks her neck, tries to reign in her racing imagination. All babies do this at this age, don’t they? Calling every woman mama and every man dada. Emily’s no exception. And yet...for that to be the first word her daughter has ever said to her. God winked at her, and she’s glad to have caught it. 

The pair makes it to Missy, who blows a kiss in Emily’s direction. “Hey there little one.” She extends her index finger, and the girl latches onto it. 

Scully cradles her baby’s head, Emily’s fine hair soft beneath her fingers. 

“She’s even-keeled for a baby,” Missy remarks, wiggling her finger and watching Emily crack a smile. 

“Yes,” Scully gurgles out of the sheer joy. She settles into her chair with Emily in her lap. “Do you know what she said to me?”

Missy looks up. “What?”

“Mama.” Scully dons a triumphant grin. “She called me mama.”

“Oh, no way!” Missy squeals. It’s a bit too loud and sudden, making Emily jump. The ladies laugh, and Scully pulls her daughter in closer, kissing the crown of her head. She still has that baby smell; the freshness of new life and all its purity. Scully sighs. It must have been even stronger when she was born.

Scully closes her eyes. If she had one chance to pause life somewhere along the way, to linger in a perfect moment longer, she would do it right now and she would never regret it. 

“My baby…” she breathes into Emily’s ear, hoping it will stick. That one day she’ll remember and find her way home, should she need to.

A warm tear slides down Scully’s cheek and lands in Emily’s lap, a dark drop on the girl’s corduroy pants. “Mama loves you, Emily.” She tightens her embrace. “That’s me,” she sniffs. “I love you, Emily.”

Observing this, Missy feels that she is an interloper and slips off to the bathroom, leaving mother and baby to have their moment. 

Scully strokes the girl’s tiny palm with her thumb. She has missed so much already, and my god, she could miss so much more. What is love, if not sacrifice? Hadn’t that been the takeaway from each week of Sunday school?

The conference door opens, and Scully finds herself irritated that life has failed to pause. Oh, what wouldn’t she do to take the reins from God, even for a moment? She looks up at Mulder, doe-eyed as he processes the optical illusion that is Emily and her mother. Said mother sees the tenderness on Mulder’s face as he comes to terms with this sight, and something in both of them breaks, and something else opens. 

Mulder approaches quietly, apprehensive about ruining the moment. Little does he know, he’s not ruining it; he’s completing it. 

“Hey,” Scully swoons. “How was it?”

He’s too earnest to crack a joke right now. “Less nerve-wracking than I expected,” he murmurs. “Brain and Cecily are good people.” 

Scully can’t help but wonder if they’re hammering this point about Brian and Cecily to make her feel better when the gavel falls in their direction. Mulder directs her train of thought away from this when he kneels in front of Emily.  His eyes are as soupy as ever, Scully notices; she could sink right into them.

“May I?”

Scully chuckles under her breath, like a stranger has just asked if they could pet her dog. “Of course, Mulder. Say hi.”

Over the past weeks, Mulder spent considerable time anticipating this initial interaction. First impressions are important, after all, and there is no one he has wanted to impress more than this sweet girl. Ultimately, he decided that he didn’t care what their meeting was, as long as it would be. And now that he’s here, knelt in front of his two favorite girls, he’s ready to make a promise.

He envelops Emily’s closed fist with one hand and uses the other to caress Scully’s palm. “I want you to know,” he begins, shifting his gaze between mother and daughter, “that I’ll always be here for you.” 

He looks to Scully, realizing that Emily is unable to comprehend what he is saying. “Regardless of Brian and Cecily’s choice, I am prepared to make every sacrifice so that you two can be a family. The family you deserve to be. I know what it’s like to not have that, and christ, Scully, I’m not letting you go through that. You’ve had enough for one lifetime.”

Scully’s face puckers. She is moved on a dimension that transcends the spiritual, if such a thing is possible. She closes her eyes, lets the tears slip out, then softens her focus on him. 

“Thank you, Mulder...Fox,” she effuses, needing to heighten the intimacy. “Emily and I…” she kisses her daughter’s temple again. “Well, you know. You already know.” Her voice is somber almost, reminiscent of a wedding vow’s binding utterance.

Mulder smiles up at them, pats Scully’s hand. “I know. Me too.” 

There are many phrases that could fill her blank, but he chose his favorite, and he’s got an inkling that he’s right.

Scully sucks in a breath, and it’s the first one that has ever counted. Earth is new to her, again.

The door opens a second time, and the lawyer approaches with Brian and Cecily behind her.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace would like to take some time to think about their decision,” Tanya announces. “You will understand, they hope…?”

Scully nods, swallowing back a lump in her throat. She would like to break into a tantrum, throwing chairs and screeching every obscenity she knows. Begging please, please, don’t let me miss another heartbeat. Let me live in this Heaven I’ve found. But no answer is better than an immediate rejection, so she screws her lips into a smile and gives away two more handshakes. 

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lace. I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

[lost-in-the-80s]

You Don’t Want My Love - Chapter 5

Pairing: Duff McKagan x reader

Words: 3,115k

Summary: Guns n Roses hires a new tour assistant, but nobody thought that Duff would fall for her.

In this Chapter: Y/N is back on the road with Guns n Roses. Will things with Duff remain awkward?

A/N: Hello, my friends! This chapter is very cute. I have a little spoiler about the next chapter: It’s going to be Duff's pov.  Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold  @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @vinylvintage​ add yourself to my tag list :)

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It was a bright sunny day in Los Angeles when Y/N got inside a taxi to go back on tour with Guns n Roses.

The so-called one-month pause became two as soon as Nikki Sixx, the bassist of Mötley Crüe, overdosed and the whole band had to go to rehab, leaving Guns hanging without a band to open for.

She still remembered when Tom called her telling her that they had lost the contract and that the band was feeling very down. However, Aerosmith showed up with a golden opportunity, they wanted Guns to open for them on the European leg of the tour. 

So here she was, on her way to the airport to meet with five crazy rockers who, as much as she disliked to admit, she had missed a lot.

These two months out of the road were great for her. She spent the holidays with her family in North Dakota and visited her friends in L. A and finally helped Rose with a part of the rent for the apartment.

She also enjoyed her time doing one of the things she loved the most: go to the beach and get a good old suntan. That was the best part about living in L.A in her opinion, the whole year felt like summer, completely different from the snowy and cold winter in North Dakota.

One week before going back on tour she attended an appointment at her favorite hairstylist, renovating its locks that were now quite long. Giving herself a spa day before going back to the bus’ couch, as Tom would go with them on tour again.

These two months also allowed her to think a lot about Duff. In the first days she was feeling blue, the way he spoke to her during that afternoon and how he didn’t talk to her after that hurt. He even switched places with Steven on the plane back to L.A, just so he didn’t need to sit beside her.

During December she questioned herself about what had she done that could’ve let him so angry at her, but after spending two weeks away from Los Angeles, she got to focus on other things, and following her mom’s advice she decided to give time to time and see how things would.

Izzy helped her with that process too, they crossed paths one day at a park, she went there with her friend’s nephew as she was babysitting and he was skating there. The two of them talked for a few hours and he told her that Duff was just in a bad week, that she shouldn’t take it personally, which made her lose that guilty feeling she was having.

Guilty and Sad, that’s how she was feeling in the beginning. But now she had convinced herself that whatever she had felt for Duff was over. She told herself plenty of times she just felt like that because she was feeling lonely and he had been nice to her.

So now, arriving at the airport, she was 100% sure that she’d look at Duff and her heart wouldn’t skip a bit. They’d talk and she wouldn’t stutter or blush and things would go as they were meant to be.

Walking through the crowd of people inside the airport she finally spotted a tall fuzzy blonde head. Duff. They were just a few meters away from her, making a smile appear on her face.

“Y/N!” Steven shouted waving, not sure if she had seen them.

She raised her hand waving back at him.

“Hello, fellas.” She placed her bags on the ground stopping in front of them.

“Wow, look at you, all tanned!” Slash exclaimed, opening his arms and walking towards the girl to get a hug.

“You know, every time I was about to put a shirt on, I listened to your voice saying that they were the biggest expression of my bad taste.” He said when they let go of each other, smiling at her.

“So you stopped wearing them?” She tilted her head while smiling.

“Nope.” He turned around showing the back of this t-shirt, where “Fuck off I’m out” could be read.

She shook her head, giggling a little.

“I want a hug too!” Steven popped up beside her, involving her in a bear hug, lifting off the ground. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Stevie.” She giggled.

“Do you want a hug too?” She looked at Izzy, smirking.

“No.” He said and the two of them laughed. 

“Well, I want one.” Duff showed up in front of her, opening his arms.

She hesitated for a second, but moved forward and wrapped her arms around his body. 

When he involved her, a certain electricity ran through her body and she wanted to never let go of him. He smelled of cigarettes and cologne though she could smell a small hint of vodka, as if it had stayed in his jacket after he washed it. 

He lowered his head to hers and said close to her left ear. “I’m sorry for being an asshole with you.” His voice was low, as if he was sharing a secret that only she could know about.

The sound caused goosebumps on her body, as she answered in almost a whisper. “It’s okay.”

They let go of each other and suddenly she realized that they had been hugging each other for quite a while, since Tom had arrived and they didn’t even notice.

Duff moved away rubbing the back of his neck, starting some conversation with Slash.

“Hey, Tom! How were your holidays?” She gave him a quick embrace before stopping beside Steven, who hugged her from beside and rested his face on her shoulder.

“It was good, I was missing the kids already.” He smiled tenderly.

“You have kids? I didn’t know that.” She moved one arm away from Steven's grip so she could hug him back.

She looked down and thought that he looked just like a child when they’re bored and start to get sleepy.

“Yes, I do. Here,” He took his wallet out of the blazer’s pocket, showing her some small pictures he had in it. “this is Jenna, she’s 10,” He pointed to a ginger girl with lots of freckles. “and this is Brian, he’s 6.” He showed a boy wearing a baseball hat.

“They’re adorable, Tom! I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for you to be away from them all the time.” Y/N smiled at him seeing that he truly loved the kids.

“Yeah, it’s difficult, but it’s a part of the job. It’s thanks to my absence that they’ll be able to go to college.” He put his wallet back in the pocket and adjusted his glasses.

“You’re a good father, Tom.”

He grinned at her words.

“You really are. Can I meet the kids someday?” Steven asked, lifting his head off of her shoulder. 

“When the tour is over, let’s have dinner together. I’ll take them and Martha along.” He grabbed his bags from the ground.

“Sure! That’d be cool.” Steven smiled, letting go of Y/N.

“Anyway. Where’s Axl? We need to be on the plane line in 15 minutes.”

“He’s late.” Izzy showed up lighting up a cigarette.

“Not so late,” Duff said, pointing towards the other side of the airport. 

Y/N looked and at first, she couldn’t see anything, but then some ginger locks in a flannel shirt showed up. 

“You’re late.” Tom said, starting to walk towards the line. 

“Sorry, Erin was keeping me busy… if you know what I mean.” He smirked.

“Jesus.” Y/N made a disgusted face while following Tom.

Inside the plane, she found herself in a seat between Steven and Slash. Duff, Izzy and Axl on the other side of the corridor while Tom was sitting one line ahead, beside an old lady.

“Oh man, I wish I could bring Ana with me.” Slash complained.

“Who’s Ana?” Y/N asked smirking.

“My python. I bought her last month.” He smiled turning towards her.

“You mean a snake?” She widened her eyes. 

He nodded.

“You have a snake as a pet?” She shivered under the thought, she was terrified of snakes.

“Yes, they are lovely creatures.”

“I’m scared to death of them.”

“No way! But they’re nice!” He turned his body towards her a little, ready to start an argumentation.

“I grew up on a farm, Slash. One of them passed right in front of my feet when we were plowing the land.”

“Did it bite you?” He moved his hair away from his face, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“Well...no.”

“Then why are you scared? They aren’t violent animals. They just attack if you scare them. Dogs kill more people per year than snakes.” 

She paused for a second. “Yeah, you’re right. But still, I don’t think I’ll ever visit your house now.”

He giggled. “Do you have any pets?”

“We always had lots of dogs. They’re easy to train and help you with some chores.” He nodded at her. “I have a cat. Though I don’t know if I could call him mine yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I left him in ND when I moved to L.A. I just see him when I visit my parents now.”

“What’s his name?”

“Thomas.”

Slash laughed. 

“What?”

“Thomas, you know?” He laughed harder.

Y/N frowned at him, not understanding.

Then Slash pointed to the seat in front of him, where Tom was sitting. 

She looked at Tom, then at Slash, then at Tom again and finally understood. Her cat had the same name as Tom. 

Y/N laughed, she had never stopped to realize that until now.

Out in the distance, she didn’t see Duff looking at her and smiling when she laughed. 

----

Arriving in London, they followed up with their normal activities. Did the soundcheck, had an interview and went backstage to get ready.

“Do you think I should tease my hair?” Axl asked Izzy who simply shook his head as a response.

“God, I’m nervous,” Duff said walking back and forth inside the room. “I need more vodka.”

“No more drinking, you need to calm down.” Y/N pointed at him, then pointing to a black couch at the end of the room, meaning that he should sit down.

“That’s why I need vodka, love.” He walked past her, going after more booze.

The nickname made her cheeks burn and she tried her best not to smile.

“Fuck, I’m nervous too.” Slash said.

“Why are you guys so nervous? You’ve done lots of gigs like this before.” She asked, frowning.

“No, we haven’t, Y/N,” Izzy said, sitting on the couch while looking for his cigarettes. “We’re in another country, a whole different crowd.”

“It’s our first time outside from home.” Duff said, reappearing in the room and sitting beside Izzy.

“Plus, It’s Aerosmith, fuck! We can’t fuck this up.” Steven added, while trying to choose a t-shirt. “Y/N. The black or the white one?” He showed her the two blouses.

“The black one.” She pointed with her pen. “You guys just need to breathe, everything will go fine. I’m sure about it.” She smiled at them, trying to calm their nerves. 

“Shit, I think I’m gonna freak out.” Duff exclaimed, drinking almost half the bottle down. 

“Not now. I need you good okay?” Axl crouched in front of him. “Just take long breaths, it’s no big deal.”

Axl started breathing slowly, soon being followed by Duff, that seemed to get calmer.

“Guys, you have to go. You’re in in five minutes.”  She said looking at her wristwatch.

“Fuck! I’m not ready yet!” Axl complained, rushing towards their bags looking for his clothes as he was still in his travel clothing. 

“Oh, God, not today!” Izzy rolled his eyes, starting to smoke the third cigarette.

“What do you want to wear tonight?” She asked, sitting on the floor beside him. 

“My leather pants and the leather waistcoat.” He looked at her. “Find them and I’ll find the shoes and my bandana.” 

Moving to Axl’s second bag she started looking inside, throwing some of the clothes on the ground. “Got the pants!” She yelled, throwing them in his direction. 

“Not this one! I want the cowboy leather pants.” Axl complained.

“Axl!” Izzy interjected. 

“Fine, fine!” He lifted his hands in surrender.

After a few minutes, he was ready, running down the corridors while putting his sneakers on. 

“You should watch the gig,” Steven said. “You’ve never watched one.”

“That’s because I always have to organize your mess.” She giggled a little.

“No, seriously, I think you’d like it.” 

Thinking for a second she answered shrugging. “Why not?” 

“Yeas!” He smiled before getting onstage. 

Finding some equipment boxes on the side-door of the stage, she climbed on a big one, sitting on it and placing her agenda on her side. 

The gig started and she understood why everybody was getting crazy about them. 

Axl moved around as if he had eaten batteries for breakfast, jumping, running, screaming and singing. His voice was incredible and he was fierce, just what you need for a frontman.

Slash had lost all his shyness. Dancing, jumping and playing like a god. Every note that left his guitar sounded magical, precisely right. And even though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell that he loved doing that.

Izzy was like a black cat in the night, that you just notice if you pay attention. He moved around calmly, playing his guitar and singing the backing vocals so peacefully, as if he was born to do that. 

Steven, well, now she understood why they called him popcorn. His hair bounced up and down as his head accompanied the drums he was playing. He smiled and sang along and if he could, she was sure he’d get up and dance to the songs.

But nobody caught her eyes like Duff did. The velocity with which he moved his fingers, the way his head kept up with the beat of the song. The way he walked so majestically with his long legs crossing the stage in a few seconds.

He was beautiful, a masterpiece in her opinion. And she knew that there was no use in trying to fight, she was already in love with him. 

----

After the gig, they did the check-in in the hotel, taking a quick shower before stopping in a restaurant for dinner. 

Joining two tables together, they sat down. Tom and Izzy taking the borders, Axl, Slash and Steven taking one side while Y/N and Duff took the other.

It was a simple restaurant, nothing fancy, and as they talked and ate Y/N couldn’t help but feeling like she was having dinner with old friends of hers.

“So I get home and grandma is complaining that Axl was sleeping on her couch and that she wants him out of the house.” Slash was telling a story about when Axl used to sleep in his basement.  

“I go downstairs and say ‘Axl, you have to find somewhere else to stay, bro’ and he’s like furiously throwing his things inside this backpack while giving me an angry look.”

Axl was laughing at this point.

“We got in my mom’s car and I started driving him towards the place where Izzy was crashing and I was like ‘Why did you sleep on her couch, dude? I had told you not to do that!’ and he looks at me with that ‘I’m gonna kill you look’, he opens the door and jumps out of the car!”

“What?” Y/N asked.

They were all laughing.

“I was pissed.” Axl answered.

“Pissed? None of us saw you for three days!” Slash added while Duff wiped some tears away from his eyes. 

“I needed time to calm down.” Axl replied calmly, still smiling as he lifted his glass to drink from it. 

“This is the best story you guys ever told me!” She said after she stopped laughing.

----

Leaving the restaurant they started walking towards the hotel, they all went in front, leaving Duff and her behind.

It was a cold night in London and Y/N had definitely forgotten that their winter was actually cold.

A cold breeze got her when she turned a corner and she shivered, hugging herself. Her sweater was definitely not enough for a night like that. 

“Here.” She looked to her side and saw Duff taking off his leather jacket and handing it to her.

“You don’t have to.” 

“Y/N. Take the jacket.” He smiled at her.

She took it, her cold fingers touching his warm hand slightly. 

Putting the jacket on she realized it was big on her, the smell of his cologne mixed with Marlboro hit her nostrils and she hugged the jacket closer to her body, wishing that it was him who was involving her. 

A few minutes passed by and they finally reached the hotel. Entering the lobby the warmth welcomed them in and she smiled. 

“On which floor are you?” Duff asked.

“Fourth.” She started to take the jacket off. 

“I’m on the sixth.” 

“Yeah, I know.” She smiled. “Thanks for the jacket, Duff.”

“It’s ok.”

They stopped for a second, looking at each other almost as if they were in trance. 

Duff put a lock of her hair behind her ear and licked his lips.

“Y/N.” Tom’s voice cut the atmosphere, making her jump slightly and look in his direction. “Are you coming?” He pointed to the elevator.

“Yeah, just a sec.” 

Looking at Duff again, she gave him a small smile. “Good night, Duff.”

He leaned down, lightly kissing her cheek. “Good night, Y/N.” 

Getting in her room she quickly changed into some comfy pajamas. She stopped in front of the bathroom mirror when brushing her teeth and soon realized that she was smiling.

Her face seemed to be tickling where his fingers had brushed ever so delicately over. And she could still feel the warmth of his lips against her skin.

“Oh, Y/N. You are so fucked now.” She said to herself, walking towards the bed and jumping on it. 

She laid there, but she couldn’t sleep, his face and voice filling her mind along with the memories of him playing onstage. 

Her hair, which had stayed inside the jacket during the walk to the hotel, was smelling like him.

She turned around, facing the illuminated building in front of the hotel while smiling.

Yes, she was fucked. But she was feeling so happy that she couldn’t even get mad at herself for feeling like this. 

[ineloqueent]

dialogue prompt? “don’t kiss me ‘cause if you do, i’ll kiss you back.”

this is long, and quite dramatic. oops.

gif by @imladrs , which i had to include because it’s absolutely beautiful.

⭒

1977

The room was full of strangers.

They called him a friend, when in reality they knew nothing about him.

They knew of his fame, sure, how he’d built his guitar from scratch and was in a band with three others, three others whom he had named equals in family to anyone who shared his blood.

But they knew nothing of him.

Not how his heart ached in its loneliness, not how he dreamt of belonging to another, because he could not imagine a purer form of love than that of sharing your entire world with another person, enthralled by them, indebted to their kindness though they never expected a repayment, someone to share one’s happiness with in its entirety, someone to promise him that he would make it through the darker hours of his life.

Somebody to love.

Oh, he loved, there was no doubt about that.

He loved so much that it hurt, and though he wasn’t always good at showing it, he would have died of grief had he lost any of his friends, or his mother or father. He had so much love to give, and no one to give it to. He longed to hold someone’s hand for the sake of holding their hand, to dedicate his touch to their skin and prove to them that they were loved, to show them how much brighter the world looked when they looked upon it with a fondness for life, a fondness for being alive, like gazing up at the moon and being in awe of its beauty, thinking of how lucky one was to see such a glow, even from so far away.

Brian had never in his life felt special. And he knew that it was a ridiculously self-deprecating thought, but he supposed he was simply never meant to feel special, because if everyone was special, then no one was special. He knew in his heart that no one would ever love him as much as he loved them. He knew he would never be special. But damn it all, he wanted to make someone feel special. If he could make someone happier, then he would be happier too; he would die happily in his accomplishment.

But there was no one to give his love. With each passing day he felt lonelier than ever before.

Until she walked into the room.

⭒

Much to your dismay, there was not a quiet corner to sneak off to at this party.

Every corner was occupied by lovers or friends, and though you had come here with a friend, you suddenly found yourself entirely friendless, surrounded by strangers and people you vaguely recognised but did not know well enough to strike up a conversation with.

You had never been a talent in the realm of small-talk, and you weren’t willing to start a career now.

The room was full of people, and yet you had never felt more alone in your life.

Deserted by the one person you knew, you sighed and fought the urge to sink to the floor in despair. She hadn’t meant to leave you, but she’d always been like that— self-assured and well-adapted— and was easily swept away by a tide of companions that might have repulsed you, if you had not known how kind she was, and how that kindness ebbed and flowed, and attracted every human in sight.

You had always been bluntly honest, and few people, very few people indeed, valued honesty to the degree where they did not mind a slight offense to their character if it was the truth. Even you understood, because you were honest, but struggled to deal with the honesty of others. Particularly when it involved romantic involvement.

In the past year alone, four people had confessed attraction to you, and you had broken down each time, crushed by the horror of having to hurt them and say that you did not feel the same way, as well as the sinking feeling of how perhaps you were incapable of loving anyone, for but the idealised versions of people that lived within your head.

But many years ago, there had been a person you had loved, though perhaps you had been too young at the time to understand what it was you were feeling.

Since you’d left the place where he existed, you’d turned bitter and cynical.

You chose your friends carefully, not out of haughtiness, but out of a fear of being hurt, of trusting the wrong people with the terrible fears of your heart— ones that would certainly make them love you less, if they loved you at all.

And yet. You idealised the memories of people to an extraordinary degree. Far too often.

The ones you trusted you hefted upon a shrine of goodwill, embracing them longer and more fiercely when they departed your company, never ceasing to speak of them to anyone who would listen, thinking of them every day. It wasn’t an obsessive habit, you told yourself. It was just like everything else.

It was a desperation to be loved.

To be loved despite your faults, despite your vices and your numerous, unyielding virtues, to be loved even in the face of everything that made you unlovable.

And so you idealised those who made you feel loved, even when they ignored your letters or shunned your sentimentalism, because you knew that deep down, they wanted to be loved as much as you, but simply deigned to have more shame than you.

But you’d been ashamed for too long.

Now, you would be ashamed no longer, and would live in the dreams of your head if that would make you happy, because you were tired of being unhappy. And you were as good as addicted to the version of life that you’d created inside of your mind.

More often than not, however, the idealism caused you no end to grief, when years later, you would reunite with someone and they would turn out to be so very unlike the person you had dreamed them to be.

But there was one person. One person who, every time you ran across him, unbidden but never unwelcome, renewed your faith in humanity, and in being loved. Because he always made you feel loved, important, special. It was like there was no end to the love he could give to you, through his smiles, and the way he held your hand, even though the two of you had never been anything more than friends, through his quiet laughter at the silliest of your musings.

You were never quiet around him, as you were with most people. In fact, when you were in his company you had absolutely no filter at all, because he was the least intimidating person you had ever met. He wasn’t intimidating, because he was honest. Like you.

But he was also endlessly kind and endlessly romantic— he lived his life by the light of the stars and the music that hummed beneath his words, as though he found everything beautiful in some way or another.

You were angry at the world. He was in love with it.

Better still, you had never idealised him to become that person. He just simply was.

And you would never see him again.

He’d always been in and out of your life, but this time, it was over. You were sure of it.

You’d known him since the two of you had been no more than five years old, and you’d been in the playground with your all-girl friend group.

Even from a young age, you’d spent much time occupied by your thoughts, and standing in the middle of the playground on that summer’s day, counting to a hundred in this game of hide and seek, you’d thought it odd that you’d ended up with only girls for friends, when your very first friend, at age one, had been a boy.

You had wondered then, opening your eyes to find that your giggling friends had all hidden away, whatever had happened to him. When you’d started a new school, you’d lost contact with him…. Jacob. Yes, that had been his name.

And at five, insecure in the onslaught of new culture that surrounded you, you’d been overwhelmed by the terrible thought of your name fading from someone’s memory.

You’d started to cry.

You hadn’t meant to close your eyes a second time, having finished counting and intending to go and find your friends, but it was an easier way to hide your tears from any teacher who might have wandered past and asked you what was wrong. But in closing your eyes, you had dimmed your senses, and were thus startled by a hand on your shoulder, turning you around.

“What’s the matter?”

You’d opened your eyes to find a boy staring at you.

“I— I can’t find my friends,” you lied.

His smile was quick. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll help you. If you want..?”

Feeling strangely at ease in his presence, you’d nodded, unsure of yourself, but sure of the kindness he embodied. He took your hand into his own, and without a thought, kissed your cheek.

Baffled, you blinked.

He seemed to sense your startled reaction.

“It’s what my mum does whenever I’m sad,” he said. “She says it means she loves me, and that she’ll be there for me, no matter how lost I feel.” He shrugged. “You looked lost.”

And with that, he’d pulled you along at a jog, smiling a gap-toothed grin and going around the playground with you until you’d found each one of your friends.

Everyone had teased you from that day on, about how he was your boyfriend. They’d said it in such a sing-song way, though, and you couldn’t help but giggle at their remarks, to smile when he smiled at you and witness the oohs that chorused from the kindergartners around you.

So you’d let them tease you, and begun to call him your boyfriend.

He became one of your closest friends, taking you to the cinema on ‘dates’, paying for the tickets and the concessions with his own pocket money, the money he’d earned from whatever little chores he could pick up from his neighbours— weeding out the garden, walking dogs, polishing shoes.

He taught you how to play chess, how to swim faster than anyone else, and how to stand up for yourself, even when the people you had to stand up to were adults, ones who had proclaimed themselves older and wiser than your young, knobbly-kneed self.

You’d grown older, and when six years had passed, the remarks about him being your boyfriend had turned earnest. Your friends asked constantly whether you would ever kiss him, whether he’d asked to kiss you, and your parents joked about the two of you marrying one another when your ages eventually passed into the twenties.

But at the time, you were only eleven, still naïve and innocent of mind, and when you’d moved away, you’d thought next to nothing of your last day of seeing him, thought nothing when he hadn’t hugged you goodbye, because you were eleven, and hugging people was an intimacy reserved for family.

Over the years— once in every five, to be precise— you’d returned to your old home town to visit, and you and he had gotten on as well as you always had, though now he would hug you properly and tell you how tall and beautiful you’d grown in the time you’d been away. If he hadn’t always been so honest, you would have scorned him for lying to you, because you knew you were not beautiful, and he had always been taller than you.

So perhaps it was a fantasy to think that you should see him at this party tonight, in the city where it had all begun.

But still you hoped, because despite how your other friends had told you about his various new girlfriends over the years— real girlfriends, because you had been too young to ever be that to him— a part of you still dared to think that he could love you, as no one had ever loved you before.

⭒

She was here.

He walked with her in memories, had savoured her touch even when they’d been only eighteen, shivering, terrified beneath her fingers when they skimmed his arm, because he was afraid of acting upon his feelings, lest she rebuke him for crossing an unforgivable boundary— the boundary between friends and lovers.

It was a cliche, he knew, but his terror was real.

And seeing her now made him think he was dreaming, because she was standing alone, in precisely the manner that had characterised her solitude when they had been five.

Only this time she was not weeping. She had learned to stem her tears, as all children eventually must, and in her resolve, she was more beautiful than ever.

Anyone else might have found her eyes cruel, surveying the room as though the world was hers, and hers to judge, but he knew what she was doing.

She was doing what she had always done, compartmentalising and rationalising her fears until they withered beneath her incessant will to be stronger than that which scared her, and looking for a place to escape to, beneath the dim lighting and close-crowded bodies of the party.

If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have said she was looking for him.

But Brian was nothing if not honest, and so he quelled that train of thought before it was even fully formed.

Still.

It couldn’t hurt to say hello, could it? By some quick head-maths, he reckoned they were due for a reunion. It had, after all, been a good deal more than five years since he’d seen her last.

He downed the last of his drink, flexed his shaking hands, and began to carve a path through the crowd toward her.

⭒

“Y/N?”

Your heart had already been in your throat, but by god, surely it had ceased to beat at the sound of your name breathed from his mouth.

You turned around and your stopped heart nearly broke at the sight of him, standing there short of breath, tall as ever, those hazel eyes liquifying you completely with the earnesty of their gaze.

“Brian, hi.” You were as breathless as he, and when you stepped closer to him, you found that you were dizzy too, because you nearly toppled in your low-heels when he smiled.

“H-ey, watch yourself, love,” he gripped your hands before you fell, and you flashed him a grateful smile.

“Sorry,” you said, and, to your dismay, blushed.

He shook his head, gentle laughter bubbling up over his lips. “It’s okay,” he assured you.

You stared at him for a moment before the words fluttered from him like a net-full of butterflies, newly freed, only to choose their new home to be your stomach. “It’s so good to see you,” he gushed, and wrapped his arms around you.

Caught by surprise, your arms found residence around his neck, and when he leaned his head against yours, you breathed in the fresh-linen smell of his curls, the slight musk of his skin that was between vanilla and sage, impossibly both rain and perpetual sunshine.

“Why do we wait five years every time?” you wondered softly against the shell of his ear, like the honest person you were.

This was the most honest you’d been in years.

Because your honesty seemed to hurt others, and so you forewent honesty for honeyed lies, to spare them of the pain your words might otherwise have caused.

It was draining to lie all the time.

But you never had to lie with Brian, because where your honesty seemed to hurt others, it enamoured him. He told you so, as often as he had the chance.

“I honestly don’t know,” he whispered back, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

He pulled back at the sound and smiled again.

You suddenly couldn’t bear to spend another minute in this room full of strangers.

“Outside?” you said, and he nodded, taking you by the hand just as he had done all those years ago.

Outside, it was quiet and cold, and without a second thought, Brian had his arm around your shoulders, his warmth a welcome replacement to the coat you hadn’t thought to bring.

“So what brings you back home?” he asked as you sat down with him, by what appeared to be a garden pond. The water babbled with the presence of a small, adjourning stream, and the surface of the pool brimmed with blush-pink water lilies. The moon’s friendly light showed you as much.

And it showed you the marble-carved contours of Brian’s face, the bow of his pretty lips.

You licked your own, willing yourself to glance away, but finding the action utterly inviable.

“Oh, you know,” you began half-heartedly, “old friends to meet, new memories to be made.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Old friends?” he said. “And here I thought you were here to see me.”

He was joking, but his closeness abruptly dampened your skin with a nervous sweat. You wrinkled your nose and pushed his arm off of your shoulder before he noticed.

“Shut up, Brian. You know I mean you.”

Brian chuckled, carding long, elegant fingers through his tousled hair. “No, don’t worry. You don’t have to lie to me.”

You looked at him.

“When have I ever lied to you?”

The air was pulled taut as a string when his eyes met yours.

“Never,” he responded quietly. He made no movement for but that of speaking. He did not blink, and you did not breathe.

“I always come back to you,” you said, and now that the words were flowing, you could not stop them. “Because no matter how many years pass, no matter how much other people change—” you had to take a breath before it physically killed you. But it was a sharp breath, and Brian hung on your every word, so when you inhaled, he gravitated toward you.

“You,” you whispered. “You never change.”

He let out a little sound, something like oh, like a realisation.

And you couldn’t keep yourself from your honesty any longer, because you leaned in to kiss him.

His thumb curved over your lower lip, depriving you of that final touch, the one which held you suspended before him, with no modesty left, no secrets, no shame, no nothing.

No end to the love which you carried in your heart for him, like a candle you had held shielded for years, cupping your hands around the flame, even if your fingers burned, because keeping that candle alight mattered more to you than the suffering of pain, more than anything in this world.

“Don’t kiss me.”

How easily three words could shatter a soul.

“Wh—”

“‘Cause if you do, I’ll kiss you back.”

You dared exhale, and his eyes fluttered shut when you kissed the pad of his thumb.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Brian’s eyes opened, as his thumb tugged softly on your lip again. It was difficult to keep quiet when he touched you like that.

“Then despite our proclaimed honesty,” he said, “you’ve lied to me every day of your life.”

You shook your head slowly. “No, Brian. You just haven’t let yourself hear what I’ve been telling you.”

His eyes widened, and you were staring into a hazel-ringed abyss, a black hole super-positioned over dying nebulae.

Brian’s thumb slipped from your lip, and he replaced its pressure with his mouth.

Exhilaration surged through you and wound itself around your heart, turned your brain to nothingness as his kiss turned you to treacle, thoughts abandoned in favour of returning the tenderness of his touch.

It felt like he’d waited forever to kiss you, from the way he cradled you in his arms. And you felt suddenly desperate that he should never let you go, that he should stay this way forever, with the curve of his hips melded against yours, the press of his chest and the fold of his hands keeping you closer to him than you could ever have hoped to be, a breathless whine escaping his perfect mouth as he kissed you deeper, more desperately, as desperate as you felt. You were his equal in your want, in your need, and the understanding between the two of you set you free, because never had you felt such an easy, mutual understanding as this. It was the simplicity of his kiss that killed you a little— how plain he was in his emotions, how willing he was to show them to you. He had the same honesty as you, even if it manifested in a different way— a better, more loving way— because he understood how truth grounded you, and in revealing to you his affections, without the intent to play games or string you along, he understood you as well.

He was quick to love and slow to judge, and though his movements were languid, his kiss was not, dissolving you like sugar beneath his lips, wet from your tongue or his— it was difficult to tell. His senses were yours, his desire a divinity when you needed his touch as hopelessly as he needed yours, and you craved for the world to always hold him this close to you.

When he brought your lower lip between his teeth, you allowed yourself to shudder, and he smiled, pressing another quick kiss to your mouth.

“Why did we wait so long with being honest?” he murmured.

You laughed in response, winding your arms around his slim waist and kissing his shoulder. You felt him kiss your hair, and you nestled further into his hold.

“Never again,” you said.

He repeated the words in his lilting voice, and combed his fingers through your hair— lingeringly, lovingly.

And in the cold and the dark, you knew he would continue to be honest with you forever, because Brian was unlike anyone you’d ever met before.

Brian was special.

[theinkyisles]

take a break (i know a place where we can stay)

word count: 6553 warnings: alcohol, implied major character death, violence, blood ao3 link author’s notes: thank you to the aphverse discord server and aphblr for hyping me up!! thank you especially to bee (for the wonderful podcast), krow (for you absolutely delightful responses to the sneak peeks) and cyrus (for your cheering on and equally delightful comments to the sneak peeks <33) description: the four to five times that laurance tried to convince garroth to take a break and the two times he succeeded.

“Garroth, I swear to Irene that you are one of the most boring people alive.” Garroth rolled his eyes, keeping his attention on sharpening his sword. Laurance was leaning against the doorway to his quarters, his arms and expression crossed.

“Just because I prioritize the protection of the village over games doesn’t mean that I’m boring, Laurance, it means that I’m the head guard,” the blond replied. Laurance scoffed and lifted himself from off the doorway, making his way to sit next to his friend.

“At the academy, what did you do on your days off?” Garroth looked at Laurance questioningly, unsure where the conversation was going. Laurance motioned for him to answer.

“I don’t really remember,” he started, before pursing his lips. “I suppose I would just train for the next day, so that I wouldn’t get sloppy.” He turned back down to his sword and picked up a rag beside him to begin polishing. He saw Laurance shaking his head in the corner of his eye.

“What about as a kid? Before you left for the academy.” Garroth chuckled and shook his head.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Laurance, and it’s not going to work.” Laurance raised his eyebrows and turned to better face the head guard.

“Really? What am I trying to do? Please, enlighten me,” he said mockingly. Garroth sighed, set his sword down, and looked Laurance in the eye.

“You’re trying to get me to admit to a time when I took time off and how much better off I was for it,” he said wryly. “And it’s not going to work because I think we have established that having Garte as a father did not endear me to getting ‘breaks’.” Laurance stared at him, eyes wide in shock. The room was silent. Garroth sighed again and leaned back, using his hands to brace himself against the wooden bench. “You can set up this game night, if you’d like, but I will remain on patrol. It would be remiss of me not to.”

“What, so the rest of us get a break, but you have to be all holier-than-thou and self-sacrificing? Bullshit!” Garroth spluttered, turning slightly red in the face.

“Watch your language,” he whispered hysterically, “you can’t speak like that so loudly!” Laurance rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please, you prudish princess, no lady is going to faint because she heard me swear.” Garroth stammered for a response, but Laurance cut him off. “You need to take a break. If you pass out from working too hard, the Lady will not hesitate to kill me, you know that.” Garroth’s face turned an even brighter shade of red, and he looked away to the opposite side of the room.

“The Lady would do no such thing to you, we both know that.” He heard Laurance scoff.

“Please, we all know how fond of you she is. ‘Second-in-command’, aren’t you?”

“The Lady is plenty fond of you as well, Laurance,” Garroth shot back, a hint of irritability in his voice. Laurance gave him a deadpan look.

“She’s not in love with either of us, we know this,” Laurance said bitterly. Garroth scrunched his nose and then let himself rest his elbows against his knees. He kept staring at the floor.

“I am well aware.”

Minutes passed between them, Garroth leaning forward and Laurance resting his head against the wall behind the bench. It was so odd, being in love with the same woman as his best friend. They both knew she didn’t love them, but it didn’t stop them from pining piteously and squabbling like hormonal teenagers. Nevertheless, it allowed him to have a deeper understanding of Laurance’s character. There was something beating in both their chests; only the two of them really knew what it was and could truly comprehend the adrenaline rush and agonizing insecurities that came of it.

For all the pain that came with being in love with the same woman as his best friend, there was an awful lot of reward.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Laurance said, his soft voice breaking the silence.

“About?”

“The whole game night thing.”

“Oh.” Garroth exhaled harshly and sat up straight. He picked up his sword, which was laying length-side beside him on the bench. He grabbed his rag off the floor where he dropped it and got back to polishing the grimy blade. Laurance scoffed and Garroth heard his friend’s head thump against the wall in frustration.

“This is your passive-aggressive way of telling me that you’re not gonna join, isn’t it?”

“You know me so well.”

-

The winter days were short, but the nights lasted an eternity. Being by the water endeared the village of Phoenix Drop to hazardous cold weather and dreaded slush that seeped through even the thickest of fur-lined leather boots. Moving around in chilled chainmail was the worst of it all, ice growing quickly in the crevices of the armor, despite how often the patrol would slip inside the guard tower to soak up the heat of the fire. Assassins and spies and thieves came in more frequently in the winter, the snow and cloud cover giving them the perfect camouflage. Barely a day went by without the jail cells being filled to the brink. Most nights, the small unit of guards in the tiny village ended their days at the make-shift tavern in the plaza, warming their frozen hands by the fire and their shivering social lives with a pint. Laurance joined them, more often than not, reminiscing in his mind of the times in Meteli where Ulrich and Glenda would join him in drunken song as they stumbled home. On one notable occasion, Sasha had joined them after a long day and he woke up the next morning, a white hyacinth on his nightstand and warm, empty sheets beside him.

Garroth never stepped foot inside the tavern, other than to drag Dale out by his hair. The other guards complained of how much of a hard-ass he was to them and Laurance was inclined to agree. He pushed the guards to rigorous training levels, often forcing them to come in on their days off. Patrols went on longer and they went out farther and the guards were gone for hours in the cold without a fire to heat their skin and bones. It was practically inhumane, to the point that Laurance humorously wondered who really was the Shadow Knight between the two of them.

Though he never voiced it to the other guards, he understood Garroth’s twisted reasoning. The winter season was a stressful time for a head guard, as Laurance had come to learn during his time in Meteli. People needed feeding so you had to watch for thieves stealing from stores and occasional shipment of goods. People couldn’t be fed without a lord to delegate the storage and rations, so you had to keep a strict eye on potential assassins. Not to mention that the weather was draining on anyone’s morale and sometimes it felt like drowning yourself in patrol and training was the only way to get through to the break of sun through the clouds. He watched as Garroth sulked off after training, observed as he marched across the village during patrol, noted when he caught another criminal and tossed them into one of the few jail cells they had.

It was disgustingly depressing and Laurance wasn’t going to let this go on for any longer.

“Guards, I have scheduled another training session for tomorrow,” Garroth announced after the day patrol had returned. “Be here before sunrise or I will come knocking at your doors and I doubt your wives and children will be too pleased about that.” A loud groan came from Brian, and Dale threw his helm halfheartedly in Garroth’s direction. It hit the ground with a clunk and Laurance could feel Garroth staring at it disapprovingly, even if he couldn’t see his eyes through the helm. Even Dante, who sported the optimism and drive common in young guards, smacked his head gently against the stone wall of the guards’ meeting place. “You all are dismissed.”

Laurance watched as Garroth turned on his toes and walked his way out of the room, his steel-toed boots clunking against the ground. “Lauraaaance,” Dante whined, his voice muffled by his face being smushed into the wall. “Can’t you talk some sense into him? These extra sessions are driving me nuts.” Dale threw his hand up in agreement, pointing it in Dante’s direction.

“I’ve barely seen my wife and daughter this week!” Dale added. Brian nodded; his eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion. “Brian and I have been just passing out at home and then His Majesty just busts down the door as if we don’t need to sleep!” Laurance pursed his lips, looking at the direction Garroth stalked off in.

“I’ll talk to him,” he said finally, “we’re probably not the only ones sick and tired of this.”

-

“Alright, asshole, spit it out, what’s going on with you?” Garroth barely jumped as the door slamming open against the stone, but his shoulders tensed at the swear. His helm covered his face and neck, but Laurance could only imagine how red in the face his friend was.

“Laurance, by Irene, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, you can’t say those things so loudly!” Laurance tossed his head back in frustration, groaning dramatically.

“Garroth, you’re a boring princess from O’khasis, let me live a little.” Garroth shook his head, still obviously flustered. Laurance marched across the room, throwing himself onto Garroth’s bed.

“You are going to fix those sheets when you get up or I’m going to lock you out tonight,” Garroth said, pointedly not looking in Laurance’s direction.

“I’d probably do it wrong, anyways, Mr. I-Had-Servants-To-Do-My-Chores.” Garroth made a face and opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Garroth grumbled.

“I don’t think I will, actually,” Garroth spared a glance to where Laurance was sitting on his bed, probably rolling his eyes beneath his helm at the Cheshire grin spread across his friend’s face.

“What are you even here for? I thought you liked to go down to the tavern after patrols.” Laurance laid down on the bed, kicking his feet up onto the footboard. “Don’t you dare get dirt on those sheets.”

“Piss off, Garroth, I have a sister, I know better than that.” He clasped his hands beneath his head, supporting his neck, and shuffled to get comfy on the stiff, hay mattress. “And to answer your question, I am on a mission.”

“A mission,” Garroth said flatly.

“Yes, a mission.” Laurance heard Garroth sigh, and smiled slightly to himself.

“And what would that mission be?” Garroth droned, only barely playing along to Laurance’s scheming.

“My mission,” Laurance stated proudly, “is to get you, sir I-perpetually-have-a-stick-up-my-ass, to give the rest of us a break.”

“What.” Laurance snickered, pulled a hand out from beneath his head, holding it up in a “don’t look at me” fashion. He could practically feel Garroth's glare grow stronger.

“The guards are tired. I’m tired. These extra training sessions are killing us.” Laurance turned onto his side, keeping one arm tucked under his head. “I get that the winter is hard, Garroth,” his voice becoming softer, “but you can’t have guards and work them to death too.”

The room fell silent. It hit Laurance that Garroth was still dressed head-to-toe in armor, as if he was about to go on another patrol, despite Dante having just head out for one himself. His sword shone brightly at his side, but his friend was hunched over the small dresser he had in his quarters, clutching at the end of the wood. His hands trembled, shaking the dresser with it with a gentle clink-clink against the uneven floor.

“Garroth?”

“How long were you head guard at Meteli?” Laurance blinked, unprepared for the question. He sat up slowly, letting his feet fall from the footboard onto the ground.

“I- I’m not sure, to be honest,” he started.

“What’s your best guess?”

“Maybe…three, four years? I was sixteen when I graduated from the training academy, so I would’ve been twenty when I took over as head guard. My dad-” Laurance’s voice caught in his throat and tears burned at the corner of his eyes. Garroth shifted slightly to glance at him, but Laurance ducked his head down. “The lord of Meteli died six months before I met the Lady.” Laurance swallowed hard, breathing in deeply to get rid of the lump in his throat. “It’s hard, when feelings get involved.” Laurance said, his voice solemn. A beat passed and he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Doesn’t give you a pass to beat your guards down to the point where you don’t have any left.”

“You still don’t understand,” Garroth said quietly.

“Try me,” Laurance shot back.

“In Meteli,” he started, “you had a wide array of guards underneath your command, correct?”

“Yes, I did.” Laurance wiggled further back along the bed, letting his body lean against the wall the bed was pushed up against. “Where is this going?”

“You had several well-trained guards at your beckon and call, many older than you and with more experience,” Garroth continued, acting as if he hadn’t heard Laurance’s question, his voice getting louder with each word. “Meaning that you didn’t have to worry about a father and son with zero technique with a baby girl and a wife and mother at home!” Laurance’s eyes blinked in surprise and he sat up on the bed. “It means that you didn’t have to deal with the fact that if a sixteen-year-old dies on your watch, you will have to hunt down his family and tell them about how it is your fault he died!”

“Garroth, wait-”

“You don’t have-” Garroth choked on his own words, forcing himself to swallow. “You weren’t here when she first arrived,” he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. “If she dies, that’s it for Phoenix Drop. That’s it for the entire region. We have no more second chances.” Laurance could see the barely suppressed sobs shaking Garroth’s body.

He got up from the bed and gently put his hands on Garroth’s shoulder. If even possible, he felt his friend tense even further beneath his hands, but he applied a bit of pressure against the shoulder plates and Garroth forced his shoulders to drop. Laurance reached underneath the shoulder plates, undoing the leather straps he knew were hidden beneath the cape that denoted Garroth’s position as head guard. The two plates were swiftly thrown to the floor, clanking as they hit the stone. As soon as the cloak fluttered to the ground, some amount of tension released from Garroth’s shoulder. Slowly, Laurance went for the buckles for the chainmail sleeves and armor they all wore beneath their tunics. It slid to the ground, and when Garroth seemed to make a move to pick it up, Laurance gave him a kick behind the knees. “Don’t move, this is hard enough as it is.” His friend didn’t say anything back.

Soon the belt and scabbard were also on the floor and the diamond sword was in its proper rack. At this point, Garroth was like a rag doll, held up only by leaning against the dresser, his hands struggling to keep their grip against the wood. Laurance gently lifted the helm from his friend’s head, setting it on the top of the dresser. He pressed gently against Garroth’s side and his friend all but collapsed into him. They stumbled over to the bed a few paces away and Laurance lay Garroth down, making sure his head hit the pillow.

As soon as Garroth seemed comfortable, Laurance sunk down to the ground, sitting so that his side was pressed up against the bed frame and he was facing the head of the bed.

“You need a break,” he whispered, grabbing onto his friend’s hand. “We all need a break.” Garroth nodded and turned his head towards the wall, closing his eyes and exhaling. Laurance watched as his friend’s breathing evened out, and, content that Garroth wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon, rested his head against the edge of the mattress frame. He could barely think a thought before he was fast asleep, clutching his friend’s hand and curled up on the stone floor.

When he woke up, maybe an hour later, he was laying on top of a cold bed in room suspiciously devoid of armor and a certain diamond sword and shield.

“Damnit, Garroth.”

-

“Laurance!” said guard turned to look over his shoulder at his name being called to find his lord waving at him as she walked down the road he was patrolling. “What are you doing this lovely spring day? Isn’t Garroth giving you guys a day off for today? It is so nice down by the docks,” she said excitedly. Laurance smiled.

“I volunteered to patrol for part of the day but I’m taking a break after I walk around for a bit more, if you’d like to walk with me till then?” Laurance offered out his hand and Aphmau giggled, her cheeks turning red. His heart beat a bit faster as Aphmau looped her arm around his. They walked down the side street of the small village, his Lady in one arm and his sword in the other. “How is your day going, milady?”

“Levin and Malachi have been getting along really well, so I took them both down to visit the docks for a bit! Levin is used to being inside all day, but after centuries of being inside a castle, Malachi is a bit of a restless spirit.” She paused for a moment, before laughing. “Accidental pun!” Laurance chuckled.

“I’m glad that he’s adjusting well to Phoenix Drop. Can’t be easy being him,” Laurance murmured and Aphmau nodded in agreement.

“How’s Garroth doing?” she asked casually and Laurance’s heart drooped for a moment at the attention being drawn to his romantic rival and friend. He shook his head internally, forcing himself to not think about it. That would be saved for when he didn’t have the love of his life right in front of him.

“He’s fine,” he said cautiously, “I think he’s glad for winter to be over.” Aphmau furrowed her brow, looking up at Laurance in confusion.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Laurance quirked his lips questioningly. He would’ve thought that as lord, she would have known the trouble the head guard went through during the winter, especially since half of it was making sure that she didn’t die midway through the season.

“Well, guard heads usually have to increase security because of an increased threat of thieves sneaking in,” he explained. Aphmau made a little ‘oh’ in understanding and he took it as his cue to keep talking. “Not to mention, it’s much harder to keep our little lord alive with all of those assassinations attempt coming from O’khasis.”

“What?!” she exclaimed. “What assassination attempts?”

“The ones you aren’t supposed to know about, milady,” said a voice coming from behind them. The pair turned around to find Garroth, without his helm. “But Laurance has never been keen on keeping his mouth shut when he needs to.”

“Oy,” Laurance laughed, “not all of us can be the oh so perfect Sir Garroth.” Garroth rolled his eyes, his cheeks lighting up only the slightest bit red.

“Laurance was telling me about all the stuff you had to do during the winter, since you’re the head guard,” Aphmau said, before turning on Garroth with a pout. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so stressed? I would’ve done something to help out.” At his expression, it almost looked as if her words had physically hit Garroth in the chest and Laurance had to keep from laughing at Garroth’s incessant stammering.

“W-well, I just didn’t want to bother you, my Lady.” Aphmau pouted even further and red started creeping up Garroth’s neck. “Besides, I kept everything fairly well-balanced, it wasn’t that difficult of a winter.”

“Bullshit!” Laurance sang out, a cheeky grin making its way onto his face at Garroth’s suddenly straining smile and betrayed look in his eyes. “I tried to get him to take a break so many times, but someone has issues.”

“Laurance,” Garroth said warningly. Laurance sheathed his sword and held his hand up in a defensive motion.

“I just speak the truth,” Laurance said, a mock-innocent tone in his voice. He turned to Aphmau stage-whispering, “I even tried to start a weekly game night at the guard tower, but he completely shut me down!” Aphmau gasped.

“Oh, a game night! That would be so fun, wouldn’t it, Garroth?” she asked, clutching tighter onto Laurance’s arm as she bounced on her toes. “I could build you guys an extra space at the tower so you could play! I’m sure there are some board games we could ask Logan to order and I’m sure KC could get snacks-” she stopped, squinting slightly before looking up at the two men. “I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?” Laurance laughed.

“Just a bit, Aph,” he said, his voice slightly apologetic. “But…now that you’re on board with my idea, I’m sure you could convince Garroth to allow it, right?” He made eye contact with Garroth over the top of Aph’s head, trying not to chuckle when his friend made several non-discreet ‘cut it out’ gestures.

Aph spun on her toes to face Garroth, letting go of Laurance’s arm to grab onto Garroth’s free hand. “Gar, it would be so cool if you guys would have a game night. You could be…” she gasped dramatically, “game knights! Like with a ‘K’!” She giggled and peered up at him through her eyelashes. Laurance crossed his arm and smirked as Garroth visibly melted beneath her gaze. “Please, Gar? For me?”

“A-ah, well, it would take sig-significant planning, I would think,” Garroth stammered, desperately trying to avert his eyes. Something caught his attention and Laurance quirked his head to the side, trying to figure out what he was looking at. “Besides,” he began slowly, a sly smirk spreading across his face, “didn’t Laurance promise to help Cadenza show off some of her new clothes? Wouldn’t you want to help out with that?” Laurance’s eyes widened and he followed Garroth’s gaze to where his sister was loading some new ridiculous new dresses into the glass display cases. Aphmau gasped.

“Oh my gosh, you’re right!” Aphmau exclaimed. “Laurance, you are gonna look so pretty in that green dress over there. Cadenza!” She grabbed Laurance’s arm, dragging him down the street to his sister’s shop.

“Wh- wait! Hey!” He tripped over his cloak, completely caught off guard by the sudden shift in attention. Behind him, he could hear his friend chucking quietly. “Oh, fuck you, Garroth!” he shouted, throwing up his middle finger. “I’ll get you to take a break one of these days!”

-

“Garroth!” he shouted. Through the rain and mud and clamor, he managed to get his friend’s attention. “Garroth, where have you been, it’s been hours-” Garroth stumbled forward and Laurance reached out to grab him. Garroth stabilized himself against Laurance’s bracers, but his feet were still unsteady beneath him and Laurance could feel his friend swaying slightly. “Are you okay?” Garroth only clenched his eyes shut, panting heavily before spitting out saliva and what looked like a tooth onto the blood-stained ground. His grip on Laurance’s bracers tightened and he pitched forward slightly. “Okay, it’s alright, Gar, I’ve got you.” Laurance scanned the horizon, all too aware of the incoming soldiers and his friend’s uneven breathing against his chest. “We’re gonna get you help.”

He and Garroth stumbled behind an old, abandoned shop and Laurance pressed them both against the wall, watching with anxious eyes as the guards of the city passed by them, some general shouting orders over the stomping of feet against the cobblestone ground. As soon as the path was clear, he pulled them further down the alley into the shadows. He carefully laid Garroth against the wall and he winced as his friend spasmed in pain. “I didn’t expect there to be guards so far in the forest,” Garroth groaned, rolling his head back as he clenched his fists. “The patrol never went out that far when I lived here.”

“They probably expanded their routes to try and spot incoming armies after we announced the new alliance,” Laurance hypothesized, making quick work of Garroth’s armor in an attempt to find where the bleeding seeping through his friend’s tunic was coming from. “It makes sense. I should’ve stayed with you, I should’ve seen this coming.” Garroth started shaking his head before Laurance finished speaking.

“No- gah, be careful, would you?”

“Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have stayed with me, Laurance,” Garroth continued, his voice getting breathy as Laurance started prodding around the edges of the, admittedly, gruesome wound. He had to find Garroth someone with healing magicks for this to heal and quick. Where he would find someone with healing magicks willing to help them was another story. “There were so many of them, you would’ve been kil-“ his voice spun off into a low groan, tears slipping down his dirt-stained cheeks. Laurance tightened the cloth he ripped from the bottom of his jacket around the wound and pulled out some thin cloth bandages he had the foresight to shove into his pocket on the way out of their camp where Garroth had stayed.

“I’m sorry,” Laurance whispered. Garroth reached out to grab the side of Laurance’s face and pull him down so their foreheads were touching.

“You’re doing the best you can,” Garroth said. “You’re a good friend and a good guard, Laurance.” The ginger chuckled, his voice slightly hysterical as he pulled away and shoved bandages beneath the tightened cloth to try and staunch the bleeding.

“You’re being oddly sentimental, Gar,” Laurance commented as he tried to try the chainmail back to the shoulder plates. “You’re not allowed to be sentimental right now, we’ve gotta get you back to-” Garroth tightened his grip on his friend’s face, forcing Laurance to look him in the eye. The expression of sheer determination and acceptance scared Laurance. Garroth looked like a man who had seen his own death foretold before him and was ready for it.

Laurance wasn’t ready for Garroth to die.

“The wound is too great, Laurance, we both know that,” Garroth panted. “I’ll die of blood loss before we even make it to the city limits, with all the guards out there.” He adjusted his grip on Laurance’s face, straining to pull his other arm up to hold his friend’s face between both hands. “You will replace me as head guard, alright? You will-” Laurance tried to pull away but Garroth kept him there. “You will protect Lady Aphmau and you will love her in honor of me.” Laurance kept trying to shake his head, tears burning the corners of his eyes.

“You will not die, Garroth, not now,” Laurance said, his voice cracking. Garroth smiled sadly and his thumb chased over the swell of his friend’s cheek. “You can’t die, please.” The determination in Garroth’s eyes became cloudy and the grip on Laurance’s face faltered. The sound of marching came ‘round the corner and Garroth’s eyes fluttered shut, his breath stuttering and uneven.

“You there! You and Garroth Ro’maeve are under arrest for treason! Surrender immediately or face death!” a guard shouted from behind them.

The outskirts of Laurance’s vision pulsed with red, in time with the beating of Garroth’s slowing heart. The voice of the guard came closer and the sharp sound of a sword being pulled from its scabbard matched the shutting of his best friend’s eyes, for what might be the last time. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks, clouding his vision as the world all of a sudden became crystal clear. The red crept closer and closer, seeping into his eyes as time seemed to slow around him. His veins glowed scarlet as his brightened eyes cast an eerie shadow against his friend’s bloody face. He grabbed his sword from beside him and the world’s clock rushed to match his speed as he spun around on his knees just in time for the other guard’s sword to meet his own.

“You will pay.”

-

They almost hadn’t made it in time.

Laurance remembers running through the village gates, Dante right on his heel, demanding to know what had happened. He burst into the old farm house, shouting at everyone and anyone who was in hearing distance to get Kiki and a doctor. Dante and Brian had to drag him kicking and screaming away from Garroth’s body so that their friends could actually help Garroth.

It wasn’t his best moment, he’ll admit.

That had been three days ago. Kiki, while not versed in the practice of healing magicks, had a healing touch of her own and Garroth seemed to be pulling through. He refused to wake up though, meaning that for three days, Laurance had been sleeping on the floor of the old farm house, ears straining to hear the steady in-and-out of his friend’s breathing. Aphmau had come to visit, a stack of board games in her arms. He almost threw her out at the sight of the games, the thought that he came so close to never being able to teach Garroth how to play a child’s game making him sick to his stomach.

She seemed so less distraught over Garroth’s potential death than he was and for a split second, he wondered if she even cared about them, or if they were just pawns to her.

He shook his head, as if trying to physically remove the thoughts from his brain. She just hadn’t been there when the guards found them. She was removed from the situation; it didn’t mean she cared any less about Garroth.

Laurance had his back to the side of the bed, leaning against the wooden frame. There were blankets and pillows everywhere on his side of the room, evidence to his restless sleeping habits. He tried to keep it neat but felt it futile after they just kept getting thrown around during his nightmares. He picked up one of the closest fabrics, rubbing it gently between his fingers. “Garroth, you had better wake up soon,” he whispered, more to himself than to his unconscious friend. “I’m going stir-crazy here.”

“Good thing-” a raspy voice called out, before devolving into a coughing fit. Laurance twisted around from where he was sitting to find his friend propped up on one arm with the other lightly smacking his chest to try and get the cough out. Laurance scrambled to his feet and braced one knee on the mattress to gently grab Garroth underneath his arms to help him sit up further. “Good thing I’m awake now,” Garroth finished, panting slightly. Laurance didn’t say anything, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

He knew Garroth would wake up at one point. He fought so hard for his friend to stay alive; he wouldn’t just let him pass in his sleep. But it seemed so surreal to have Garroth talking to him, especially after having night terror after night terror of his friend’s blood on his hands. He kept Garroth propped up and slid in behind him, reaching down to unbuckle his boots before throwing his leg over the mattress. Without a word, he pulled Garroth so that his back met Laurance’s chest. Laurance waited a second for Garroth to protest, but the other man didn’t say anything, so he buried his face in his friend’s hair, wrapping his arms around his friend’s uninjured chest. Garroth reached up an arm to grab Laurance’s hands where they were clasped above his heart. “I’m alive, Laurance,” he whispered. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“But you did,” came the broken response. “You didn’t see how you looked in O’khasis. You knew you were going to die, you didn’t try to fight it or anything-” Laurance cut himself off with a dry sob. Garroth pressed his weight back against his friend.

“I’m here now,” Garroth stated resolutely. “You haven’t lost anyone. I’m right here.” He squeezed Laurance’s hand. “I promise you, I’m not going anywhere, because there’s this very annoying man that I know,” Laurance laughed wetly, shaking his head in Garroth’s curls, “he keeps making sure that I don’t die in some back-alley.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” Laurance murmured. “Not like you have the best track record of taking care of yourself.” Garroth’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh before he hissed in pain, shoulders curling in. “Everything okay? Is it bleeding through?”

Garroth shook his head, though his breathing was heavy. He leaned his head back into the crook of Laurance’s neck. “It’s just your standard battle wound,” he said, sounding tired.

“You should rest some more,” Laurance murmured, but Garroth shook his head.

“I don’t want to leave you alone after just waking up.” Laurance felt his heart swell to the point of bursting and tears burned in the corners of his eyes.

“I’ll be okay, Gar, I’d be better if you actually took a break for once in your life.” Laurance unclasped his hands to reach one up to run through his friend’s greasy, limp hair. “You’ve gotta stop sacrificing yourself for others so much. I’m scared for you.” Garroth just exhaled a chuckle.

“But then I wouldn’t be…well, me,” Garroth whispered. “I’ve got to make up my mistakes somehow, Laurance.” Laurance shook his head, but didn’t say anything else.

“Sleep, Gar,” Laurance said, “you won’t be letting anyone down by doing so.”

“If you say so.”

-

After Garroth woke up the second time, Laurance had gone and fetched Kiki and the doctor and they pronounced Garroth alive and semi-healthy. The threat of infection was still prevalent, but they let Garroth return to the guard tower to continue healing. Kiki had pulled Laurance aside, making sure he knew to force Garroth to rest, otherwise the wound would never heal. Laurance only laughed, and promised to sit on the man if he had to.

Much like Laurance was while waiting Garroth to wake up, the head guard was restless. He kept trying to walk about the tower, resisting all attempts to actually sit down, saying that he had to get back to his duties as soon as possible. The times Laurance weren’t around, Brian and Dante told him about Dale picking Garroth up by the legs and almost tying Garroth to his bed just so that he would sleep.

They finally got that game room set up, courtesy of Lord Aphmau. Without being able to patrol, Garroth was constantly itching to do new things to occupy his mind and Laurance finally broke through his friend’s resolve against the supposedly wretched game night. That’s where they were now, Garroth propped up by what seemed like hundreds of pillows on Laurance’s right and Dante and Brian to his left. He held up a stack of cards, all in different colors.

“Okay!” he started, “Welcome, everyone, to the first game night.” Dante cheered and Brian snickered at Garroth’s playfully annoyed expression. “The Lady was kind enough to ask Logan to find some games for us to play and, since this night was my wonderful idea-” Garroth rolled his eyes, “I can see you being snarky over there, Mr. Head Guard, don’t think I won’t drag you back upstairs to your room.” Brian outright laughed at that. “Anyways!” Laurance continued, “we’re playing Uno. My sister and I would play this a lot.”

He explained the rules and dealt out the cards for a trial round. Almost immediately, Brian used his plus-two card on Laurance and Garroth and Dante had the gall to laugh. “Watch it, kid,” he warned, but Brian just shot him a sneaky smirk in return.

The game continued as everyone made sure to stack the odds against Laurance. Brian, Dante, and Garroth had this infuriating way of making hand signals to ensure that they stacked up at least three plus-two cards so that when Laurance’s turn came around, he would have to pick up even more cards. The final straw was drawn when Dante pulled out his final and remaining card, a wild plus-four, and dropped into the deck. The room was silent before Laurance lunged for Dante and the younger guard screeched. Brian choked on a gasp, laughing at the same time, while Garroth just shook his head with a smile. Dante and Laurance rolled over a few times, tussling against the cold stone floor, each one trying to pin the either. Laughter filled the room as Dante tickled his fingers against a patch on Laurance’s ribs. “Cheater!” Laurance shouted, laughter breaking up his words. “You’re a damned cheater, Dante!”

“You never said it was against the rules!”

“Oh, you – get over here, you Irene-damned menace-” Laurance barreled into Dante’s stomach, sweeping him up and over Laurance’s shoulder. Dante began kicking, slamming his fists into Laurance’s back, but the pair still stumbled through the balcony doors connected to the game room. Brian watched in unrestrained awe and glee, while Garroth’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Stop wiggling, you bastard child, I will dangle you over the parapet, watch me-”

“Put me down, I demand it! A guard of Phoenix Drop should never be put in such a compromising position,” Dante shrieked, his flailing legs getting dangerously close to kicking Laurance’s face.

“Oh, you want me to put you down, huh?” With a gleeful smile, Laurance quickly maneuvered the wiggling teen so that he was holding him up by the underarms and used momentum to toss his friend’s legs over the balcony wall.

“You maniac,” Dante screamed, grabbing at Laurance’s arms, “I’m gonna die, get back to the other side- Laurance, stop jiggling me, Irene, have mercy on my soul!” Booming laughter came through the balcony doors and Laurance turned his head to find Garroth practically on the floor, tears of joy streaming down his face. A wide, earnest smile unwittingly broke across Laurance’s face and his grip on Dante faltered. “Laurance, you’re dropping me!” Eyes wide, Laurance turned his face back to watch as Dante slipped from his grip. He shot forward, grabbing the guard by the shirt and yanking him over the edge of the parapet. They both stumbled back, falling onto the ground. They panted with exertion, broken by Laurance’s hysterical giggles. “Can’t believe you almost killed me, have you no shame?!”

“Oh, come on, Dante,” Garroth’s voice came through the doors, “you have to admit that that was at least the slightest bit humorous.” Dante shot to his feet, stalking back into the room

“You won’t be saying that when I dangle you over the edge of the tower-”

“Wait, no, Dante, I surrender-!” Laurance cackled as Dante picked up one of the pillows, smacking Garroth over the head.

“Go, Dante, beat his ass!” Brian cheered.

Laurance smiled as Garroth’s laughter and Dante’s shrieking and Brian’s cheering washed over him. His vision went cloudy for the first time in days and his grin felt like it was splitting his face.

It was a good day.

[mrsorange]

Yesterday

Sitting in front of the steering wheel, Paul watched the old building in silence. He gathered the courage to enter because by doing it his whole life would change. During the half of his life, he had tried to bury what his cousin Angus had told him once. They were thirteen years old and they were arguing over who would ask a girl to go out for an ice-cream. But his cousin had gone further.

“I wish aunt Mary would have never adopted you. Everything would be better without you” these were the words that had broken his heart.

During the following months, Paul had tried to talk to his parents but he was afraid of his father's reaction and he didn’t want to worry his mother who wasn’t feeling feel ok. And then the worst happened, Mary passed away. Full of sadness, Paul decided to bury his doubts. The loss of his mother made the idea of ​​having lost another too much pain to bear.

These doubts came back to his life one day when he visited his father. Paul was helping him with the move when he found a photograph of her mother next to a group of nuns.

“what is this photo of mum?” he asked

“Oh … after we got married, your mother worked as a nurse in London because of the war. It was just a few months; she came back due to sick leave… I mean she came back because you were going to be born” his father answered

“You never told us about that”, said Paul but his father didn’t answer and continued ordering

Paul continued helping with the move and didn’t mention the subject again but that photograph sowed doubts about his origin again. Maybe Angus had told him the true.

Paul returned to touring with The Beatles. He was so busy that he didn’t allow himself to think about it but at night in silence and alone with himself he would do it again. One night he couldn't stand it anymore and called his father.

“Paul what happened? It’s 3 AM “his father asked still asleep

“Dad I need to know” he exclaimed

“What happens?”

“Is it true? ... Is it true that mom was not my mom?”  he said with a broken voice

“where did you get that? “His father asked nervously

“I need to know the truth”

“son, this is not a conversation to have on the phone”

And with those words Paul understood that his greatest fear was true, he stayed in silence by the phone while tears fell down his cheeks.

“Paul ... are you there?”

“yes” he mumbled

“Whenever you have free on the tour we will talk ... if you want I can travel or ...”

“No, I will travel. Maybe next week” he interrupted

Paul continued with the tour, playing in the different shows, traveling from city to city but he could only think in his father. Brian was reluctant to give him two days off to travel to Liverpool as their schedule was very tight between interviews and the next trip to Paris. Moreover, Paul didn’t want to tell him why he needed to travel. He didn’t feel sure about telling him or his friends what was happening in his life. He had not even told Lennon who was his best friend.

Finally, Paul visited his father and had the long-awaited talk. However, his father couldn’t tell him everything about his past as his mother had been very reticent about his adoption. Mary had told him not to make any question and love him as if he were his own blood. So, Jim could only give him a name and an address in London.

…………………………………………

Paul got out of the car in his costume that consisted of a black overcoat, a hat and a fake moustache so that people wouldn't recognize him and for now it was working. Women passed by with bags of groceries, a man smoked on the corner and a group of children played football. Suddenly the ball hit the back door of the car causing Paul to panic.

“I’m sorry Sir” said a Ginger boy taking the ball and running away from there.

Paul tightened the lapels of his coat to cover his face a little and climbed the steps of the old building. At that moment a midwife suddenly opened the door. Paul wanted to speak to her but the woman didn’t notice his presence as she was leaving in such a hurry. She got into his car and disappeared at full throttle.

“Excuse me sir ...  can I help you?”  asked another midwife

“yes, I’m looking for Sister Julienne” answered Paul taking off his hat

“Oh yes, wait here please. What is your name?”, the girl asked

“tell her I’m Mary McCartney's son”

Paul was observing the place while he was waiting in the hall. There was a living room with a fireplace that kept the place warm and in one corner there was a television which seemed strange to him.  who could have imagined that nuns would watch television? He kept looking around the place until he saw a corridor and a blackboard caught his attention. He got closer to take a better look. It was a blackboard with women's names, two or three per row, and some were crossed out.

“What are you doing here?” a voice asked and Paul turned around

“I’m waiting for Sister Julienne” he answered nervously

"Wait for her in the living room. You be here," the girl answered. Paul was dazzled by her beauty more than a midwife she looked like a model. She accompanied him to the living room and she stopped to observe him carefully

“You seems familiar to me” she said

“How strange! this is the first time I visit this place” he answered turning his face

Luckily for him the other girl returned with Sister Julianne and when he saw his legs began to shake. she looked at him and said: “James come with me to my office “

As soon as Paul entered, he sat down and took out of his pocket the photo of his mother in the Nonnatus House and put it on the table. The sister took it and smiled as she remembered the moment when the photo had been taken.

“I think you know why I'm here” he said

“And Mary? “She asked although she knew the answer.

“My mother passed away a long time ago that is why I came looking for answers here” he answered with a broken voice “my father told me very little”

Sister Julienne sat in front of him and taking his hands began to narrate how Mary had become his mother:

“At that time our congregation was not only in charge of births. In the middle of the war we also had to take care of those injured by the bombings. We honestly couldn't cope. That is why we got three support nurses, Henrietta, Sarah and Mary. Your mother was just married and had agreed to come to the wolf's mouth just to help others. In those months that we worked side by side, between guards and waking hours, we became very close. She was looking for some comfort since she had lost her first pregnancy. Every child she saw, she protected him and made sure he was safe and sound. One night while we were having dinner after a long day at work, the siren began to sound and we knew it was time for shelter. We went out with the only things we were wearing to the nearest shelter since we did not have much time.  On the way we met a young woman who was no more than 17 years old. She was screaming in pain while leaning against a car. Between the two of us we helped her to put standing and walk the few steps that separated us from our destination”

“Was that young woman my real mother?” muttered Paul

“It's been so long but I still remember her as if it were yesterday. She had light brown hair and freckles all over her face and now looking at you I can tell you that you have the same look of her, especially her eyelashes “she smiled and continued with her story “It didn't take you long to be born. You were a very cute chubby baby. Despite the sounds of the bombs, that night you slept peacefully while your mother hugged you. Mary and I were next to you making sure everything was fine”

“What was her name?” He asked

“I don't know; she didn't want to tell us her name. I didn’t want to insist too much since we were all shocked and scared by what was happening but in the morning I realized why. When we woke up she was gone.  we looked for her everywhere and then we waited for her to appear here but she never did. So, Mary took care of you. She fed you and sang you lullabies until you fell asleep. she didn’t leave your side for a second”  

Sister Julienne stood up and turned to see the cross that was on the wall:  “I don't know if what happened later was right. I always ask God to forgive me. I did not agree but Mary wanted at all costs to take you with her to Liverpool and that's why she falsified your birth certificate. she called your father and arranged to spend some time in Cumbria”.

“my mother did all that” said Paul astonished by this woman very different from the one he had known

“I knew that with her you would be fine but I did not agree with the way she did it. She could have adopted you legally but she did not want to wait. that's why we stopped talking” she sat down again “I don’t know how she receive the sick leave and after that I never heard from her again”

Paul started to cry. After spending so much time trying to bury all his feelings, he was finally able to vent and know the truth. He didn’t understand why they had hidden his origin from him. Despite everything he loved Mary even much more than before and he would never know the reason since she was not there to answer. Perhaps his mother had been afraid that the police would take him away from her or that his biological mother would appear to claim him. Something similar had happened in her neighbourhood with a little girl called Mildred.

Julienne hugged him trying to comfort him: “forgive me for not being able to tell you more things about her”

“Sister, you have helped me a lot. You don't know how much” he said, turning away from her to wipe his tears and making his fake moustache move”

“James you have something”  she said pointing to his face

“Sorry sister” he said and he took it off “it is part of my costume.  I didn’t want to be seen here”

“I see” she said

“I’m not saying it because of the neighbourhood “he explained “I am famous; don't you know The Beatles?”

“I think the girls have mentioned it” she replied

Paul was surprised because she didn’t know the band in the middle of Beatlemania. He began to tell her about their music and how they had managed to get their first album out. When they left the office and headed to the door they heard the TV blasting.

“Sister can you lower the volume?” said Sister Julianne

“No, soon they will be showing the new song of those boys” replied Sister Monica Joan

“She has already prepared her cookies” said the blonde midwife bringing the tray with the teapot

“Trixie and Barbara also want to listen to the program” added the sister

And at that moment the two girls realized who was the mysterious young man who had come looking for sister Julianne. They both were speechless.

“hey boy, don´t you want to sit and watch the program you too?” said Sister Monica Joan

“I can't I have to leave” Paul replied with a smile

Trixie, the young blonde, approached sister Monica Joan and told her who he was.

“IT CAN'T BE TRUE” she exclaimed with joy “ you have to play us a song, you can't leave like this”

“Sister, James … I mean Paul has said that he has to go” said Julienne

“but it's just a song “she begged him

“well, I can play a song”

“Phyllis has a guitar in her room, I'm sure it won't bother her if we borrow it” said the other girl called Barbara and ran to look for it

 Before the small but very important public that consisted of two nuns and two midwives, Paul gave a small concert in the place where he had discovered the truth about his identity. The truth to which he had run away so long and that in spite of everything he had only managed to bond him more with his mother Mary.

Sorry for the grammar mistakes. English is not my first language

[isitgintimeyet]

Road To The Aisles

Ao3

Previous

Happy Sunday. And thanks for reading this. We’re now on Chapter 19, and more wedding planning. Hope you enjoy. 

Special thanks to @wickedgoodbooks, @mo-nighean-rouge, @happytoobserve for their support.

Chapter 19: A Juvenile Costuming

CHANDLER: Hi. Anybody know a good tailor?

JOEY: Needs some clothes altered?

CHANDLER: No, no, I'm just looking for a man to draw on me with chalk.

JOEY: Why don't you go see Frankie? My family's been goin' to him forever. He did my first suit when I was 15. No wait, 16. No, 'scuse me, 15. All right, when was 1990?

CHANDLER: You have to stop the Q-tip when there's resistance!

Friends

Wee Jamie sat quietly in the back of the car, content for the moment to watch the passing scenery and listen to the conversation in front between his da and his uncle.

He didn’t understand all they were talking about but that didn’t matter. He felt like, this weekend, he was one of the men, for once not bundled together with his sister and now his wee cousin, having to be looked after by his mam. He still wasn’t totally clear on how William was his uncle’s baby, but not Claire’s.

Alex, at pre-school, had told him that his mam and da had a special cuddle to make a baby, but that couldn’t be right. He had never seen his Uncle Jamie cuddle anyone but Claire, and they seemed to spend a very, very lot of time cuddling, in his opinion.

He returned his attention to the conversation in the car. His da was talking with his usual calm voice but Uncle Jamie seemed a wee bit cross. He hoped he wasn’t angry at Care Bear, or Mam or even him.

“I tell ye… the nerve of that man, suggesting himself tae visit Lallybroch for that article. I dinna want him anywhere near, Ian. I mean it. I gave him a chance at that fundraiser. I didna punch him but that doesn’t mean I want tae have anything tae do with him again. I hope ye told him he wasna welcome at all.”

Wee Jamie could see his uncle’s hands, resting on his jeans clad legs, balled tightly into fists.

And now his Da was talking. “Dinna fash. I told ye, man, it’s sorted. Jenny spoke tae Malva again and suggested that it would be better fer a more… er… balanced article if one of Tom’s team visited and wrote it. He willna come. And, it’s agreed, the article will be in the December issue. Jes’ in time fer all those Christmas present ideas.”

Wee Jamie watched his uncle’s hands relax. Time, he felt, to join in the man talk. He didn’t want them forgetting that he was with them.

“Da, Unca, is this a stag weekend?”

His da laughed, but not in a mean way. Uncle Jamie craned his neck around to look at him and smiled.

“Where d’ye hear that?” he asked between chuckles.

“Well, Alex from preschool, he said that his uncle had a stag weekend afore he got wed. Alex’s dad went on it, but they didna let Alex go. Alex said it was all boys, nae girls at all… and they went on a plane tae Beni… Beni… tae abroad.”

Wee Jamie was now in full flow, sure of his audience.

“Anyways, when his da came back, he wasna very well. He said it was something he’d ate, but Alex’s mam reckoned it was the ‘dirty beer’ what did it. And Alex’s uncle got a tattoo done… and his auntie was awfa cross about it. It was on his bum.” Wee Jamie whispered the last words before bringing his hand to his mouth in mock horror.

“Weel, now, I willna be having a stag weekend like that…”

“Och but we will be havin a wee night out, in Glasgow.” His da caught his eye in the rear view mirror and winked. “But only for grown ups. Sorry, lad.”

Wee Jamie persisted. “But today, we’re going tae Lallybroch, aye?”

Mumbles of agreement came from the front seats.

“And there’s only us men here, and Grandda and Murtagh?”

“Aye, that’s right.”

“Weel, is that no’ a stag weekend?” Wee Jamie sat back, pleased with his argument.

His uncle turned around once more.

“Ye’re no’ wrong, lad. I canna fault yer logic. How about we call this the family stag weekend with nae dirty beer and definitely nae tattoos?”

Wee Jamie clapped his hands. “Aye. Oh, and Alex’s da told him what happens on tour stays on tour. So, dinna be telling Mam… or Care Bear neither. Promise?”

“Agreed.”

“Aye son, agreed.”

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

Jamie looked around the kitchen table, the scene of so many Fraser, and Murray, family moments. Everyone was munching their way through the large pile of sandwiches prepared by Murtagh. It was all so comforting and familiar, but now, whenever he came back to Lallybroch without Claire, it felt like there was something missing, incomplete. She had become such an intrinsic part of the family, in the same way that Ian was, albeit over only eighteen months rather than thirty years.

Wee Jamie helped himself to another sandwich and a handful of cheesy puffs.

“I like it when Murtagh does lunch,” he announced. “He lets me have Wotsits. Mam doesna let me. I’m too messy wi’ the orange dust.”

He wiped a hand across his face. The ring of orange around his mouth and the orange streaks on his cheeks proved the veracity of his mam’s concerns.

“So, why are we going tae the kiltmaker up here? Is there no’ any back in Glasgow?”

Brian ruffled his grandson’s hair affectionately. “Aye, there is. But this kiltmaker’s been here a long, long time. And we Frasers and Murray’s have always used them. When yer da and yer uncle were wee lads, they had their first kilts from here. When I was about yer age, I went with ma da fer ma kilt. Even Murtagh, as a wee boy went there.”

Wee Jamie looked across at Murtagh in amazement.

“The kiltmaker must be very, very, very old,” he stated solemnly.

“Ye wee gomeril,” Murtagh looked fierce for a moment, brows knitted together before smiling broadly at the little boy.

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

The bell rang as the Fraser and Murray men entered the old fashioned establishment. Wee Jamie looked around, mesmerised by the contents of the wooden and glass cabinets. He peered closely into one of them.

“Hey Da, can I have a skin doe?” He asked hopefully.

“Sgian-dubh,” Ian corrected. “And I dinna think yer mam would be too impressed with that idea. Imagine if Maggie got hold of it?”

Reluctantly, the little boy moved to another cabinet. “But can I have a sporran?”

“Aye, Jamie, that'd be fine.”

“Jamie, lad,” Brian joined his grandson to admire the collection of sporrans. “What would ye be using yer sporran fer?”

“Weel, Unca Jamie is teaching me how tae skim stones, so if I see any good flat ones, I can keep them in there.” He had clearly been giving the matter some thought.

“And mebbe some sweeties,” he added optimistically.

The tailor emerged from a back room and greeted Brian and Murtagh like old friends.

“Good tae see ye,” the old man commented as he shook their hands warmly.

“And ye too, Hector,” Brian agreed. “It’s been a wee while. We’re on tae the next generation now, ye ken. Ma grandson here needs a kilt. It’s fer ma son’s wedding.”

Hector greeted Jamie and Ian. “Ah, Jamie, so ye’re tae be wed? About time too. See how well Ian looks on married life. Now, I ken the two of ye have yer kilts, so is it jes’ the young gentleman here that we are fitting today?”

He turned to Wee Jamie and shook his hand. “And ye are?”

“James Murray. I’m the ring bear… er fer Unca Jamie and Claire. We’re all gonna stand together. Am I going tae have a kilt the same as ye then, Unca?”

“Och, Master Murray, ye’ll be having the same as yer da. Yer uncle has a Fraser tartan like yer Grandda and Murtagh. Ye and yer da are Murrays, so that’s the tartan we’ll be using. If ye jes’ head intae the fitting room, I’ll be doing some measurements.”

Brian pointed to a door in the far wall. “Ye head in there with yer da, Jamie. We’ll wait fer ye out here.”

Wee Jamie skipped over to the door and beckoned his father to follow.

In a dramatic stage whisper, he asked, “Da, d’ye think I should tell the man I willna be wearing pants under ma kilt? So as I can pee?”

With everyone trying hard not to laugh aloud, Ian patted his son’s head. “No need tae, son,” he stage whispered back. “I think he already kens.”

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

“Ye do realise yer lad is snoring in the back.” Jamie turned around to glance at his nephew, fast asleep in his car seat, head lolling awkwardly to one side.

“Aye, I reckon we’ve worn him out this weekend… what with getting measured fer his kilt, and the picnic in the glen today. That was a fair walk tae get there. And he didna complain… much.”

“And the fish and chips. From the chippie, no’ home made, like Mam does.” A sleepy voice piped up from the back seat. “Wi’ gravy too.”

“Aye, son, they were a rare treat.”

Wee Jamie yawned. “And remember… jes’ between us men. Dinna be telling the lasses at all. Promise?”

Jamie and Ian replied in unison. “Aye, Jamie, we promise.”

[dailyaudiobible]

03/01/2021 DAB Transcript

Leviticus 24:1-25:46, Mark 10:13-31, Psalms 44:9-26, Proverbs 10:20-21

Today is the 1st day of March welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today as we greet a brand-new month, the third month of the year. It really does feel like we just began the journey, I don't know, maybe a couple weeks ago, but here we are. We’ve already moved through two full months of this year together and two full months moving through the Scriptures together. We’ve covered some significant territory in the Bible and what we’re gonna do is put one foot in front of the other and take all of the steps through this month and just keep going and we will accomplish the entire Bible this year. But let’s…let’s just mark where we are beginning this month. And we invite God to speak to us through the Scriptures, through the power of the Holy Spirit, guiding us and leading us into all truth as we navigate the month of March. And obviously, we…we pick up right where we left off, which is what we'll do today. And, so, let’s dive ion. We’re reading from the Amplified Bible this week. Leviticus chapter 24 verse 1 through 25 verse 46.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the Gospel of Mark children are approaching Jesus, or parents are bringing children for a blessing from Jesus and the disciples or can like shooing them all away. Like…like…like these kids can't be bothering the master while the master is about the business of revealing God's kingdom. And it's funny because it’s…it's really easy…it's really easy to have that kind of opinion in general. In like the adult world this is what's really going on, this is what has consequence and, you know, childish things, there's nothing to glean from that. We were all children once and we grew out of that. But that's not…that's like not at all Jesus approach. So, then we could say then that that's not at all God's approach. Jesus wanted the kids to come to Him. And my goodness, if we think about it…it…do we not want our children at the feet of Jesus? But are we blocking them by the story of our lives are telling? Like are we too preoccupied in the grown-up world to ignore the fact that we are not just instilling wisdom and training up our children but that there is plenty for us to learn from them if we would pay attention. I think of my son, Ezekiel, who has started to read Daily Audio Bible kids this year. And I was sitting in with him on Daily Audio Bible kids I guess like, I don't know, three weeks ago, four weeks ago, I can't remember, but we passed by this story I believe in the book of Matthew and I was listening to him read the story and just looking at him…and I have had these thoughts before but this was like so stark it was happening in real time, I’m just looking at him realizing, “buddy, you know, way more than I thought you did. You've picked up way more along the way, along the story of your life. You are more intuitive than I…than I knew. Like your simplicity in your purity isn't naïveté, it's…it's not ignorance, it's just simple.” And just having conversations with him since then I realize he has a very simple trusting understanding of God's kingdom and Jesus love for him. And certainly, Jill and I have instilled this. Like, certainly we have of provided this backdrop for him. This is our lives. This is what we believe, and this is what we are teaching our children, this is what we’re trying to live into, but just to understand it's not all lost. He understands a lot and he has connected a lot of dots and I have a lot to learn. I think that may be more true to a posture of what Jesus is talking about today when He says, “to the kingdom of God…the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who are like these little children.” In God's kingdom the faith of a child matters. And if we think about it, we would understand why. We are God's children. And we understand that if we’re like a loving parent, if we’ve been intentional in…in care about our children, they know that; they trust in that; they rest in that; that is solid for them; they trust us and they believe that anything is possible. They believe in God's presence with such a purity and simplicity that there is a lot for us to learn there. So, maybe we should understand that the teaching, the learning is mutual and that we’re not just the disciplinarian to try to pattern a child's life to make our lives easier. Like, our parenting role isn't just to mold our children so that they can stay out of our hair. If we do that then we’re missing the lesson they are teaching, the lesson that we need to know, the lesson that the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who are like children.

Prayer:

Father we come into that. On so many levels it touches us because nobody judges us harder than we judge ourselves usually. Usually, we are more difficult to be with inside of ourselves than anywhere else and that just gets projected out into the world with the different kind of convictions and judgments that we have. But there is a simplicity and purity underneath it all. And we can try to dismantle faith to such a degree that we understand all the component parts, but that's just not gonna work. Faith is beyond our control. And, so, looking at the quiet acceptance, exuberance, excitement of a child greeting the new day, believing that there is a God watching over them…O that sounds…that sounds like how You made us to live. And why we’re not becomes a mystery. Come Holy Spirit and allow us to begin to see what life could look like if we understood that we were Your children and that that is what we need to be and that we can trust You in all things. Come Jesus we pray. In Your precious name we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it’s the website, it’s where you find out what's going on around here. And stay tuned and stay connected. Of course, if you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can access all these things as well.

For example, the Community section of the website or app, that's where the Prayer Wall is. That's where we are continually praying for one another and asking prayer of each other. That’s one of the places that…well…it’s one of the ways in which we love each other, we pray for each other, we shoulder each other's burdens. And, so, being aware of the Prayer Wall is always very important. It’s always there anytime, day or night.

Also, there in the Community section are the different links to different social media channels that we’re on. It's good to follow along and get the announcements anytime that I we need to let you know something or whatever. It's a good idea to be familiar with the different places that were at on social media so check that out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well or in the app. If the Global Campfire, if…if the mission to bring the spoken word of God read fresh every day and delivered to anyone who will listen to it anywhere on this planet any time of day or night, and to build community around that rhythm, if that…if that matters, has made a difference I thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner for the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And as always if you have a prayer request or encouragement you can hit a Hotline button in the app and share from there, no matter where you are on this planet, or there are a number of phone numbers that you can use. In the Americas 877-942-4253 is the number to dial. If you're in the UK or Europe 44-20-3608-8078 is the number or in Australia or the part of the world 61-3-8820-5459 is the number to call.

And that's it for today. Welcome to a brand-new month. It's gonna be a great ride as we continue our journey forward. That's it for today though. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello Daily Audio Bible this is Duane from Wisconsin all praise and glory to our wonderful Lord and savior Jesus Christ. Today is February 25th I believe. Just calling in. I need prayers. I know I talked to you about my sons Nicholas and Nathan. I was able to send a letter to Nicholas who's in jail and copied some Bible…chapters of the Bible and printed them out and put them in the letter so he could read those. But I'll be sending him more letters. So, prayers for him as he is in jail and pray that he will at some point be able to get a work release so he can get a job and be able to go into work and help support his child. But I'm calling him for Nathan. Last weekend we went to go see him. In a sense he is almost homeless. I'm asking that you would please pray that his mother would take him in, that her husband would have a softened heart and take him in, but more importantly that Nathan who would understand where he's at, be compassionate, have understanding and be taken care of. For a son…like I said he's almost been homeless. It’s been kind of scary because over the last few weeks here it got down to about 20 below and he just manages to find a place to sleep and stay. But…but he's doing OK. So, he went and got him a phone. Unfortunately, he still hasn't given us…sent us the cell number. So, we pray that will happen, but I pray that he's gotten ahold of his mother and that he will be able to stay with his mother and pray that he’ll get a job and start getting his life turned around. Thank you, Daily Audio Bible family. I greatly appreciate it and you have no idea how much love I feel from all of you.

Nobody Gets Left Behind in Colorado just checking in with the DAB family. I just heard Sherry from Texas, your prayer request for your husband. Guys I’ve been married for 29 years and got to say sister that was very very heartbreaking. I can't even imagine what you're going through. I just want you to know that my heart, it goes out to you and my prayers are going to be going out to you and…and your children and your husband. And I hope he hears every single one of our prayer…prayers for him as he goes through this. I also want to thank little Cherry for being transparent, talking about judging people and, you know, when Brian he goes through that every year and talks about the unforgivable sin and it has made a big impact on the way I treat people and the way I think. And I'm so glad that he's made that clear to all of us. And just makes perfect sense. We’re always just supposed to be working on ourselves. We have so many things inside ourselves that we need to work on and that's important. And I know a lot of times like pointing fingers and stuff like that for some reason it makes us feel good inside but it really…it’s not healthy. So, thank you Brian. Thank you for that lesson. Thank you for teaching us that every single year. And thank you for Zekey and him reading the DAB to the kids. My daughter Halo loves it. And with that being said I’d just like to say what Zekey says. Bye.

Hey DAB family it's Doctor John from Jordan New York calling back. And Karen from California thank you so much for your prayer for me. I was a crying just tears. So, thank you so much. I wanted to give you guys an update. I saw the orthopedist yesterday. He was very pleased with the progress. There’s still paralysis of some of the muscles and the nerves but it is improving and improving every day. I was like super thrilled this morning when I could tiny…get the tiniest wiggle out of my pinky fingers. Kind of silly but, yeah, you go with small victories. So, yeah, the…the knucklehead, white as snow, that called in after Karen from California, I totally get what you're saying because, yeah, that was me. I was just moving way too fast. And, so, that was my message. You know, and as I looked back through this and say what is God trying to teach me and it's that I need to slow down. And of course, that leads to the song [singing starts] slow down you move too fast got to make the morning last just kicking down the cobblestones looking for fun and feeling groovy. Duh duh duh duh duh duh duh [singing stops]. Apologies to Simon and Garfunkel but Daily Audio Bible I love you so much for all of your prayers and I will keep you posted on my progress. Bye-bye. Doctor John from Jordan.

I just wanted to pray for Sherry and her family in Texas. God we just lift up our sister Sherry and her family and we thank You for them and we thank You for her husband and for his love for Your word and for his desire to share it with others. And we…we thank You for that light that You placed inside of him. And God we just ask that now during this time as he's passing that You would be close to their family, that You would surround them, that You would bring peace and comfort. God we just ask for Your sustaining love to just be their strength in these hours. God, we thank You for Your faithfulness to this family, that You have not left them, that You will not leave them, that You are there with them. We pray for godly Hospice workers, that You would send them their way. We pray for every moment leading up to this passing and that there would be peace, that You would bring breath and life into her God and to her children, that they would feel Your sustaining arms around them. You are near to the broken hearted and we know, we trust that You'll be near to this family. Jesus we just are grateful. We ask that the passion that You had for Your word would just continue down through all his generations and that many would come to know You Jesus through his faithfulness. Thank You, Lord. We just ask that You be glorified in his life and in Sherry's life and the lives of her children. Amen.

Hello, DAB my name is…I'd actually like to remain anonymous…but I'm in Tucson AZ and I am 29 years old and I have three kids and I'm married, and I was just diagnosed with postpartum depression. I have a 3-month-old baby and I'm just asking for your prayers as I go through this. And I'm praying that God would deliver me from this. The doctor gave me some medication and he said my case is severe, but she thinks I caught it in time. But I'm just asking for prayer and help and protection from these intrusive thoughts that I've been having, and I just asked that God would protect me mostly because I fear for myself sometimes. Thank you.

Good morning this is Storylines from San Diego. I've been a listener for just over a year and I'm so grateful for the Hardin and family. My daughter and I listened to Zekey too in the mornings and it’s just such a sweet, sweet time. I just want to pray for Sherry from Texas. I just heard your prayer request about your husband and the brain tumor that was just so sudden and him now being in Hospice. So, I just wanted to pray for you. Lord I thank You so much for Sherry and her husband. And God thank You for their great love story. I heard it in her voice as she spoke about him. And God…I just…my heart breaks for her as a wife and I just ask that You would come, that You would give her everything she needs. Lord thank You for You for her faithfulness just to play the word of God over her husband as he moves into eternity. Lord thank You for his influence over droves of people. God thank You for the love of Your word that he has had in his life and how that doesn't stop, that he has lived out Your word to people and he's been a great influence. And God I pray that as he moves from this life into the next that You would comfort him, that You would use his story for Your kingdom to come here on earth as it is in heaven. I pray for Sherry as she loses the love of her life in this moment in this time, that You would be her ever present help in time of trouble. In Jesus name I pray. Amen.

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 6

a/n: Hi. I know no one reads this so not really gonna bother. Like if you liked. Reblog if you care at all. Maybe buy my broke as a ko-fi so I can survive this semester? K bye. 

WARNINGS: Soft smut? 

*Shawn’s point of view*

A night out on the town is exactly what he needed. When his best friend Brian flew to town, it meant to clear his schedule and probably have 911 on speed dial for any ambulance like purposes. With the state of his relationship with his dad at the time, he was in desperate need for things to make sense again. And they weren’t. They just fucking weren’t. Enter Brian.

“Shawn motherfucking mendes! Did you miss me? Tell me you missed me!” His best friend snorted practically hopping into his arms in the middle of JFK

“Not enough to carry your dumb ass,  get the fuck of me!” He chuckled.

“I am so fucking excited to be back in this city man. The pussy is just something different out here, ya know? Now if only my best friend flew me out more than once a year.”

He threw Brian’s bags into the trunk of his car and ignored his best, but idioctic, friend.

“Yea, I invite your ass out here more than once a year and my dad will have both of our asses. That’s assuming you don’t kill us first.”

“You wake up in Tijuana one time, and suddenly I’m a bad influence?”

“We were in the fucking Bahamas, Brian!”

“So, not my sharpest moment! I got us home didn’t I?”

“No, jackass, my dad got us home. You got chlaymdia and a fucking sunburn. Now get in the car before I leave your ginger ass here!”

“Fair, that’s fair.”

Brian had been on his soccer team in the first grade. They’d been best friends ever since. When his dad moved the entire family out to California, Brian was with them for every holiday and every break they could find. The two were inseparable. Brian was a jackass, and he got Shawn into far more trouble than he did anything good. But he was his best friend. He’d been there for him, the first time his dad cheated on his mom. The first time he got his heart broken. When his dad had taken everything from him. So, there was a loyalty between the two of them that was unmatched. They’d do anything for each other. Anything.

So, there’s no one else he’d rather sit on his couch with in the middle of the afternoon and smoke the kind of weed that made your knees numb. That’s the kind of friendship he needed.

“What the fuck have you been up to lately?” Brian coughed around the bowl. “I haven’t heard from you in forever.”

He chuckled up at the ceiling which was maybe the most prettiest ceiling he’d ever seen. Wow.

“Man, my dad is totally up my ass about ‘ continuing his legacy’. I like ‘work’ now. Real shit. And then... I’ve been fucking honest to god the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Not enough hours in the day I guess.”

“Yea, what else is new?”

He shook his head. “Nah bro. You don’t understand. Like even I don’t know how I pulled her. She’s thirty years old. My dad’s fucking terrified of her. She got three of the top artists of the year under her belt, and she lets me make her cum until she passes out. It’s fucking addicting.”

Brian passed the bowl, and Shawn worked on taking three big hits, the smoke filling his lungs and taking over his whole body.

“Hold up. You’re fucking the same chick like...consistently? Since fucking when?”

“Since...Since she gave me the best orgasm of my entire life? Since...I don’t know, since my dad makes me so fucking stressed all the time I feel like I’m gonna explode. I mean it man, it’s bad. It’s worse than I ever could’ve imagined.”

Brian, for all the jackass that he definitely was, still turned to his friend and gave him a glance check of wellness. That glance to look for damage, to look for signs of mental distress, of pain. Brian knew. He always knew better than anyone.

“Then why don’t you just tell him to stick his job up his ass, man? You knew you didn’t want this from the beginning. You can get out from under him!”

They’d had this conversation since Shawn had turned twenty-one and his dad insisted he start learning the ropes. The company would be his one day, assuming he stuck it out until his old man keeled over.

“I can’t. He’s got me; we both know it. I either fall in line and get my inheritance next year, or I leave now and I’m fucked. H--He promised he’d give me my masters then. He promised.”

“Yea, but your dad is maybe the most evil bastard I’ve ever met. No offense. I just don’t want to see you waste your life away doing this shit that makes you unhappy only to find out that it wasn’t even worth it in the end.”

“I know man,” He responded glumly. “I know.”

Too somber of a topic for getting high, they each settle a little more bonelessly into the couch and lean on each other’s shoulders as the high take it’s full effect.

“So the Shawn Mendes is fucking the same girl on the daily? You two exclusive or something?”

“Nah man we just...have an understanding. We lead really stressed out lives. I kind of want to boss someone around a little bit, and she wants to not have to give any orders for a change. We just work well.” He shrugged.

“Oh, so it’s just casual sex then?”

“Yea...Casual. Sure.”

“Well, you don’t sound so sure.” Brian snorted. “You catching feelings or something?”

“No! No. I--I’m not, man. She’s just weird. She’s not like the girls I usually fuck around with. She’s a little harder to read.” He shrugged.

“No shit, man she’s fucking thirty!”

He didn’t know if he should tell Brian about Miami. About holding her during the show. How they slept together, just slept, in her hotel room. How it was the most well rested he’d felt in months. It wasn’t the conversations they usually had. Shawn hadn’t had a serious girlfriend in over three years, and there was a reason for that. Women were too much of a headache, always wanted more than you could give them. As long as he was single, he was in control. And it wasn’t like y/n even wanted to be with him. Half the time he couldn’t figure out if she hated him still, if she still viewed him as just an extension of his father. The part of him that wanted to change that, that wanted her to view him at something else, didn’t vibe well with the voice in his head that kept reminding him it wasn’t supposed to matter.

So, they get dressed up. Shawn orders them a car to stop at all the places in NYC that one only went to if they had money, power, fame, or some combo of the three. The city was his stomping ground of sorts. He felt good there, much better than he did in LA. Things can move just as fast in LA, but somehow it feels a little less artificial. Maybe it isn’t, maybe he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t really care. Just needs to not think for a while.

***

*y/n’s point of view*

Friendship dates are instrumental when you work together. It’s important to have a space that isn’t dominated by work or business. So, once a week, as long as your schedule permitted it, you and Tiana would just go for best friend time. It could be  drinks, dinner, a movie, a yoga class when you were both feeling particularly dumb. On this week’s agenda you were taking a sculpting class. You liked clay, and Tiana liked the fact that they served wine. It was easily a win-win situation.

“So… How was Florida?”

Your hands stumbled on the piece of clay you had been in the middle of scoring and you definitely ripped a whole in it. Idiot.

“Florida? Why do you ask? What happened in Florida? Nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow and stared at you like you were crazy. Maybe you were crazy.

“Bitch is you crazy?” She snorted.

Fair.

“Bitch you the one asking dumb ass questions.”

“Mhmmm . . . So I spoke to Mike the other day.”

You paused in your work and looked over to see her twirling her little wine glass in her hands like the rude little gremlin she was.

“Is that so?” You huffed. “Spit it out, wench.”

“Oh don’t mind me. My niggas barely uber to see me. Let alone fly by jet.”

“Oh for fucks sake. You and Mike gossip more than my mama and her friends.”

She cackled and took a sip from her glass. “And we love it, sis! Now if you don’t unbunch your soaked ass panties and start sharing details, I swear fo’ god. What are best friends for anyway?”

“There is nothing to tell, heffer.” you sighed going back to your precious clay. “He just needed some very specific release and came to Miami to get it.”

“Yea? Well Mike says he stayed through Orlando.”

“Mike needs to keep his mouth shut before he gets fired.”

“Why would you lie to me of all people. Who am I gone tell about you and Shawn Mendes’ rendezvous?”

You rolled your eyes and threw your tools to the table. In hindsight, Shawn had been burning a whole in your mind the past few months. And you hadn’t talked about it all, had no one you could really share it with. Tiana was your ride or die. If there was anyone in the world you could talk to? It was her.

“Okay. Okay fine.” You sighed. “I was kidding though. He was really frustrated and he didn’t want to wait for me to come back to NYC. So I jokingly told him he could come to Miami. I didn’t know his ass was going to show up! And when he did...we fucked at first. And it was fine. It was good like it always is but then…”

“Oooo. Bitch don’t clam up at the good part. What happened next?” She encouraged.

“You know when Ariana does needy and the moon rises and it’s like kind of a romantic, maybe sad, bop?”

“Yes?”

“Well...You know how I get into my feelings sometimes. I guess I maybe leaned my head on his shoulder a little bit. And then he--he wrapped his arms around me. For the rest of the show. Even Break free. Didn’t take his arms away the whole time... That’s weird right? Like why would he do that?”

“Because he has sipped from the valleys of the African diaspora  and he is hooked, bitch!”

Tiana bust out laughing getting them dirty looks once again from the white women who came there to nurse their minor alcoholism. Oh well.

“Very funny. I’m serious, Ti!” You whined. “I don’t...do this. I don’t know how to do anything but hooks up. And with a man almost six years younger than me?”

“So you want to date him?”

“No!” You hissed beneath your breath. “No...well I mean I don’t know. It doesn’t matter because he doesn’t want to date me okay. It was just a lapse in judgement.”

“Yea, okay. I’ll be the judge of that. Tell me what the hell else happened?”

“Well we spent like three or four days together. And he just kind of hung out while I worked. And we had sex...a lot. Like three or four times a day. It was so intense. And then every night for the show we would go out and watch and he kept putting his arms around me. What the fuck does that mean, Ti? ”

“It meannnns he likes you bitch.” Ti rolled her eyes. “What else could it mean?”

“You know who we’re talking about here. It’s Shawn. Shawn doesn’t do anything but get women into bed with them. We both know that.”

“Yes. We also both knew that he didn’t hook up with a woman more than once. You two have been screwing longer than most of your past relationships. So let’s stop pretending that we’ve got this white boy squared up when obviously we don’t.”

You sighed letting your face come to rest on your clay covered hands.

“I just...I can’t afford to let him catch me slipping, Ti. Whether I like him or not doesn’t matter. I can’t let his dad get in the way of my goals.”

Tiana nodded and placed her wine glass down to take your hand in hers.

“Girl, I get it. White men are trash and as much as we make fun of them, there is a fear there that we cannot let go of. But you cannot, I repeat, you cannot let that man dictate your life. He’s not worth it. He’s had not a damn thing to do with your success, and he will not lead to your downfall. Now if Shawn turns out to be more than what we thought he was, then let that be enough. Don’t ruin it for Manny’s sake. He doesn’t deserve that much of your energy.”

And that was why she was your best friend. She was the most intelligent person you knew. She was funny and wild and crazy, but she kept you centered in a way that no one else could. And she always made shit make sense. Even when you were fought it with every fiber of your being. There was no use. Tiana was always right.

“Yea, okay. Let’s just let it die for now. I don’t think even Shawn knows what he wants yet tbh. No reason for me to think too much into it now.”

“Whatever you say sis. whatever you say.”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

It’s dark. There are bodies everywhere and the strobe lights illuminate a face every once in awhile. Brian’s talking to some blonde that’s five inches taller than him. There’s a brunette to his right that keeps whispering in his ear and playing with his hair. He’s not drunk enough for this. His whole vibe is off, and he’s not quite sure why. Why can’t he fall back into who he’s always been.

“Do you wanna take me home tonight?” She murmured wrapping one of his curls around her finger.

He snorted. “I don’t exactly take people home sweetheart.”

“Oh...Well, do you wanna come over to mine? I live close by.”

“Yea, maybe later. I’m gonna get another drink, you want one?”

“S--Sure. Thank you.”

He slides off the couch in search of more bottle service. He’s got a feeling that there might not be enough in the state.

Brian finds him searching for answers in a shot glass. He slides his hands sloppily along his shoulders and he already knows what he’s about to say.

“Bro! This chick’s all over me. Can I use your spare room?”

He shrugs. “Sure, whatever man.”

“What about your girl? You ready to go back?”

“I don’t know man. I’m just not feeling it.”

Brian’s eyes widened in confusion. “The fuck is there not to feel? Just pull your dick out and find friction.”

“Just go grab your girl and let’s get the fuck out of here, aye?”

He tried to focus his eyes on his, which just resulted in his head wobbling a little bit. Shawn sure hoped he didn’t have whiskey dick, cause he’d never heard the end of it.

“You seriously not getting any tonight?”

Oh he was getting some. Just not the likes of what NYC’s latest size negative two of the month had to offer.

Apparently Blondy and Brunette are friends. When Brunette finds out Blondy is getting in the car, and she isn’t there’s a little bit of a hick up. Somehow Brian still convinces Blondy to get into the car. His best friend might have at least mediocre game. The ride back is full of obscene kissing noises, and Brian trying to convince this poor woman he’s going to be able to make her cum tonight. Home couldn’t come fast enough.

Shawn: come over.

y/n: oooo I feel like Cinderella being cuarted at the ball.

y/n: Negro it is one am. No.

Shawn: I’ll send you a car. Come in those horrid little fluffy pjs I saw in your suitcase in Orlando. Idc. I’d get you a pumpkin carriage but I think the dealership might be fresh out of those.

y/n: YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE THOSE. YOU WERE NOT INVITED TO THE TOUR.

Shawn: Please? I’m too drunk to argue with you. My best friend is about to seriously dissapoint this poor woman tonight in my guest bedroom, and it’s gonna fuck up the whole vibe of my space. Some good sex must be had tonight.

y/n: the amount of bullshit that comes out of your mouth on a daily basis. Truly remarkable.

Shawn: I’m sending you a car. You don’t even have to take your bonnet off.

y/n: You are not fucking me with my bonnet on. My black grandmama anscestors would haunt my ass with negro spirituals for the rest of eternity.

Shawn: Noted. I’ll see you in forty five?

y/n: Ugh. Whatever.

Fucking finally.

***

He’s still in his jeans from the club and reclining on his bed as the alcohol races through his system when the app alerts him that she’s on her way up from the lobby. Thank god for fancy passcodes that mean he doesn’t have to let her in. He lurches up out of bed to meet her at the door. His guest bedroom is on the other side of the apartment, and he’s hopeful that the sounds won’t make it over to them. He just wants to focus on her tonight. Nothing else.

Since their weird little bubble in Florida, they hadn’t talked about any of it. Y/n arrived back in town and immediately asked to be tied up, gagged, and whatever else meant that they were focused on nothing but the bedroom. It didn’t hurt his feelings at all. This is what they were good at. This was the whole point of everything that they were right? Not to make things complicated but just to fuck and to let themselves release everything out into the bedroom. And that’s exactly what they were going to do tonight. He would make sure of it.

On the other side of the door, she’s standing there in tennis shoes and all silk pajamas. It’s a short and camisole nighty combo that he has every intention of ripping with his bare hands. But it’s cute. She’s cute.

“You went out tonight.” She notes, her eyes raking over him until he’s twitchy and needy.

He nodded. “Yea.”

“Did you hook up with someone?”

Something about the fact that he’s had something to drink just tells him to be honest. He can see her, maybe even more clearly than he was used to, and he had not a single ability in the world to bullshit her anymore. Not tonight.

“No. No I didn’t. There was a girl there who tried, who wanted to come back with me, and I--I thought about it. I did.” He hummed. “But I texted you instead.”

He can tell she wasn’t ready for the honesty. He can see the way her jaw untightens just slightly, the way she relaxed just barely. Who the fuck is either of them kidding?

“Explain to me why I’m here again?” She asked cocking her hip against his door.

She had braids in again. He didn’t know how to tell her that he’d been thanking God for protective styles since she flipped them over her shoulder that one time while she rode him into her desk chair. He was dangerously drunk.

“Stop talking. Come here.”

He cups his palm around the back of his neck and pulls her lips against his. She releases a little half whimper half sigh when he bites her bottom lip and moves his tongue to where she needs him to go. They’re still halfway in his apartment and halfway in the hallway when he pulls her legs up around his waist and presses her into the wall next to his doorway. But she still gives him everything that he needs instantly. Still pushes her hips against his. Still scratches at his scalp like no one ever has. Still had a grip to her thighs that makes his mouth water and his dick hard. When her ass is filling his hands and then some, there’s not a question. That woman from the club wasn’t going to give him this. Wasn’t ever going to be able to make him feel the way that she could. So why fucking lose this?

He slammed the door shut and took her back to his room, body laid out perfectly amongst his sheets. His fingers reach for his belt, and she’s giggling as she kicks her shoes halfway across the room. She’s really beautiful when she smiles. Fuck.

She went to reach for her camisole and he was hopeless but to stop her. His hands locked around her wrists pinning her to the bed. And she peered up at him with those big ass eyes of her, wild and brown and blown with lust. But her skin is soft as a fucking feather. And her cheek bones sit high and prominent and perfect. Her lips are thick and plush and he knows there’s no filler in them because every time she kisses him it’s like heaven. And he’s drunk. He’s so fucking drunk. The problem is that way too much of it is just her, and that never used to be reason enough

He kisses her. But it’s not like it was at the doorway. It’s not like the first night they spent together, or any of the other kisses after that. It’s soft. It’s slow and methodical and searching. Her eyes flutter close and she parts her lips and this time her tongue is leading the charge. But he doesn’t stop her. Would never want to stop her from kissing him like this. His hands go lax on her wrists and she reaches to pull him closer instead. They fall flat on the bed, her body wrapping around his. He loses himself in her kiss, in her touch. She’s just there filling up every space that’s ever existed in his life And he wants her. God does he want her.

“Shawn.” She mumbled against his mouth.

“Shhh. Let me touch you.” He begged.

Her eyes softened and she nodded allowing him to rip that pretty camisole he’d been thinking about since he opened the door. That’s as rough as it gets. When he’s met with the soft skin of her breasts he can’t do anything but be tender. He roles her nipples between his thumbs, licks along the valley of her sternum, and her moans are incredible. He’s stuck on her. And the one way to work through that, the only way to not fall consumed by her, is to touch and lick and kiss. And she lets him. Lets him and lets him and lets him.

“Touch me.” She gasps.

And so he touches.

***

The sun streams through his curtains, and it’s the second thing that wakes him up that morning. The first is the warm body pressed against his chest. When she wakes up in the morning she stretches her whole body, but it all originates from her spine. It makes her look a little bit like a fish out of water, or a mermaid. But he kind of likes it. This time her stretch sends her deeper into his arms, and he’s totally okay with that. Her eyes open and they stare at each other. It’s silent. Just the two of them. After that.

“Hi.” She whispered snuggling a little deeper into his pillow.

He licked his bottom lip, voice tired from lack of use. “Hi.”

“Do we....Do we talk about what that was?”

“Really? This early and you already wanna talk?” He smirked.

“It’s in my blood. Don’t make fun of me.”

She flicks his bicep and it’s the most ridiculous thing he could ever imagine. It’s too early to deal with her ridiculousness.

“I’m hungry.” He sighed and rolled over onto his back.

“Well get to cookin. The movie where the black woman serves the white man is a straight to dvd feature, and I am only interested in box office hits.”

“Well that sounds lovely, however I meant much more of the, ‘you riding my face until you cum’ type hunger. Or is that not high enough at the box office for you?”

“Hmm...well we certainly can try!”

He can’t help but laugh as she settles her thighs over either side of his head. Her thighs are things of miracles and he’s just a bit obsessed with them, just a bit obsessed with her. His hands settled on her hips and he can’t help but look up at the way the sun hits her chest and face. She’s beautiful.

His tongue traces languidly at her heat. He’s not interested in driving her up a wall this early in the morning. Just wants to fuck her through the fog of their wake up. So, he licks deep into her. He lets his tongue dip inside and then runs the flat of it against against the entire length of her pussy. Her clit is already erect and at attention. He settles his hands onto her knees and rubs at her thighs. She plays with his hair and grinds slowly against his tongue as they work her towards her release.

“Fucking shit, Shawn,” She whined. “That’s so good.”

He tilts his chin up and follows her shaking hips, his lips attached to her clit. He just wants to devour her.

“Baby I--I’m gonna cum!”

She’s never called him baby before. Not once. And it sparks a reaction that neither of them could have seen coming. He flips her over onto her back--thank god for neck and back day--and chases her pussy like it’s the last coke in the desert. It might very well be.

“Oh--Yes! Yes!”

The knock on the door can’t come at a worse fucking time.

He pulled back and wiped at his mouth eyes still completely zoned in on what’s happening between her legs.

“NOT FUCKING NOW BRIAN!”

Her fingers dig into his hair and pull him back between her thighs. It’s hotter than he could imagine.

“Bro I just need to borrow your jeep for like thirty--an hour--two hours tops !”

He pulled away from her with a slurp. “You touch that fucking jeep and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do!”

“Melanie has to get to a study group for her philosophy class!”

“Who the entire FUCK is Melanie?!”

Her fingers are in his hair again. She leans up to nuzzle his throat with her perfect lips and take his ear lobe between her teeth.

“Can we please? You got on a private jet to visit me in Miami. I think a jeep is the least of your concerns.”

He whined and nuzzled back against her softly. “I love that car.”

“Maybe work on loving this pussy a little more?”

Well that was certainly doable.

“Yea, okay.”

*five minutes later*

“Okay! Well uh...I’m just gonna take the jeep. I’ll bring it back, bro promise!”

He pulled back one more time. “Get the hell out of here, Brian!”

“Jesus Brian! GO!” She yelled in unison.

….

“Tough crowd!”

***

“Shawn, I’ve got to go!” She giggled.

He was much more interested in kissing his way along her neck and collarbones.

“Mmmm. No.”

“I have a brunch with a very important client, and thanks to you I’m going back to my house in a dumb man shirt.”

He snorted and ran his tongue along the length of the collar.

“This is saint laurent.”

“This is me leaving!” She insisted tugging out of his grasp.

He followed her to the door, the length of her braids only bringing more attention to the way her ass swayed in those shorts. Jesus.

“Can I ask you something? Before you go?”

She paused at the door and turned to him, letting her back rest against the wall.

“Sure.”

“You felt it last night, right? I’m not crazy, am I?”

She bit her lip, and shook her head softly. “No, you’re not crazy. I felt it.”

“And it means something, right? It is something?”

It takes a little longer to get a response out of her. But slowly but surely she nods at that too.

“Yea. I think it is.”

He took a deep breath trying to discern for himself whether he was about to fuck everything up. When his fingers mold to the apple of her cheek and she peers up at him with these big, soft eyes he knows there was never any choice for him. He’d been kidding himself since the beginning. This time when they kiss neither of them are holding back.He lets himself be gentle. He holds her against his chest and he doesn’t think at all about the consequences, or what it might look like. He just wants to kiss her silly. He does. She does the same for him.

He pulled back to check for fear of hesitance in her eyes. There is none. How is there none? And so he just...goes for it.

“I like you.” He admitted softly. “Like a lot.”

She ran her thumb along his lip, tugging at it  until it smacked back into place.

“I like you too. A lot.”

Her eyes are warm and soft even now. She’s so inviting and she just seems to pull the truth out of him with ease. He just wants to be honest with her. Even when it’s scary. Even when it doesn’t make sense.

“Well uh...I’m not gonna lie I don’t really know what it is you see in me. I--I know what I am. And I know what I can offer. For some girls it’s enough, but for you...I don’t know that it could be.”

“You don’t need to talk down to yourself to get me to like you Shawn.” She murmured.

He snorted. “I know that. I’m just saying what we both know. I know I can be an asshole, and a cocky asshole at that. But I can’t even think of touching a woman who isn’t you. I’ve never had that happen before. Not in my whole life. I guess I just--fuck. Will you go out with me? Like to dinner? As human beings that don’t just make each other cum.”

“Dinner hmmm?” She hummed.

“Yea, dinner.”

“You really want to be seen with me in public? What would your dad think?”

“I don’t...I don’t care what my dad thinks. I want to take you to dinner. Do you want to go with me?”

The pause she takes is long enough to kill him. For sure it is.

“I...Yea. I do.”

It brings a smile to his face against his better judgement. He didn't usually do smiles. Really got in the way of his image. A look of smug indifference was his go to. But this woman was quickly ruining everything he ever thought that he knew.

She lets him kiss her against the door. Let’s him hold her face in his hands. It feels good. Feels right.

“Hey, if we go on a date it’s not gonna stop you from domming me is it?”

He laughed. “Of course not.”

“Okay. You can kiss me again.”

“Thank you.”

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[gold-and-rubies]

In It For Th Long Haul - Chapter 9

Mac’s POV

They stumbled into Goodneighbor just after sunset. They would have Gotten there sooner had they not run straight into a horde of Super mutants. They had miraculously gotten through Kellogg and his synths without any injuries, but the mutants had left them pretty banged up. Flynn had a new scar on her chin.

MacCready let himself relax a little as they approached The Memory Den. He knew Goodneighbor well, and the people, most of them, knew better than to mess with him.

His eyes widened when they entered The Memory Den. He had never actually been inside before. It was quite hard to get in, and cost more caps than he was comfortable spending on something like this. The high tech loungers contrasted the ornate, red drapes and rugs. They were in surprisingly great shape despite everything. A woman in a fancy dress was lounging on a couch in the middle of the stage at the end of the room. Valentine walked up to the woman.

“Mr. Valentine, I thought you had forgotten about little old me,” she purred.

“May have walked out of The Den, but I’d never walk out on you,” he flirted back. MacCready’s nose scrunched up a little in disgust.

“Hmph. Amari’s downstairs, you big flirt.”

Valentine led them behind the stage, and down the stairs to a makeshift lab. There were several tables and cabinets with several different medical items. There were two different loungers, several different kinds of technical equipment that MacCready had no idea about, and a computer the doctor was using. There was an office chair between the loungers, and a couch against the wall. He wondered about the couch.

“Doctor Amari?” Valentine said.

“Yes? I take it this isn’t a social call.”

Flynn walked up to Valentine, and stopped next to him. She clutched the blood stained medkit in her hands.

“We need the memories from a man named Kellogg,” she explained, “But he’s dead.”

Amari got a horrified look on her face, “Besides the fact that you’re asking me to defile a corpse, the memory loungers require living brains to function.”

“This dead brain had inside knowledge of the Institute, Amari. The biggest scientific secret of the Commonwealth. You need this, and so do we,” Valentine argued.

Amari sighed, “Fine. Do you… do you have it with you?”

“This is… what we have,” Flynn said, handing over the medkit.

She popped it open, and exclaimed, “What’s this? This isn’t a brain! This is… wait…” she picked up what was inside, “This is the hippocampus! And this thing attached to it. A neural interface.”

“Those circuits look awfully familiar,” Valentine muttered.

“I’m not surprised. From what I’ve seen, all Institute technology has a similar architecture.”

“Go on, Doctor,” Flynn said.

“Mister Valentine is an older generation synth,” she explained, “Institute technology being what it is… The brain implant could fit him. But that’s… an incredible risk to take. We’re talking about wiring something to his brain.”

Maccready watched as Flynn’s face became swamped with worry.

Before she could say anything, however, Valentine said, “Don’t worry about me. I’m well passed the warranty date, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. Her worry was practically tangible.

“The Institute is responsible for who knows how much of the things that go wrong out there. I’m sure about this,” he assured her as he walked over to the office chair to sit down, “If I start cackling like a grizzled mercenary, pull me out, okay?”

“Let’s see here…” Amari muttered, “I need you to keep talking to me, Mister Valentine. Any slight change in your cognitive functions could be dire. Are you feeling any different?”

“There’s a lot of… flashes… static… I can’t make sense of any of it, Doc.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. The mnemonic impressions are encoded. It appears the Institute has one last failsafe. There’s a lock on the memories in the implant.”

The defeated look was making it’s way back on to Flynn’s face. MacCready could see her becoming exhausted by everything. Her voice was getting close to being there too, “please tell me there’s a way past this.”

“Let me think… The encryption is too strong for one mind, but… what if we used two?” she suggested.

“What do you mean?” Flynn asked.

“We load you two into the memory loungers. Mister Valentine here will act as the host, while your consciousness drives through whatever memories we can find.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” MacCready asked. He was not about to lose Flynn to a technical failure that could be avoided.

“I have to do this. We don’t have any other way,” she said. Despite the softness of her voice, he knew he was not going to change her mind.

“I’ll be okay,” she reassured. She sounded like she was talking more so to herself than him.

He frowned at her. He had been more than okay with Valentine sacrificing himself for this, but she was different. He had seen her put herself in harm's way before, but he knew how to nurse a bullet wound, not whatever this might do.

“Whenever you’re ready, please take a seat in the memory loungers,” Amari instructed.

Flynn looked at Valentine and nodded.

“See you on the other side,” he joked.

She looked at MacCready one last time with a soft smile before she climbed into the lounger. Once she was settled the The glass top closed.

Amari turned from her terminal to MacCready and Piper, “YOu to may want to come over here to observe what they are experiencing.”

He nodded and stood behind her where he could see the screen. He glanced at Piper, who had been quiet this whole time. She looked as worried as he felt.

“Initiating brainwave migration between the transplant and the host,” Amari announced. MacCready assumed that meant she was starting everything.

He looked at the screen. It was a lot of technical jargon that he did not understand.

“Mnemonic activity coming from the transplant! It’s deteriorated, but it’s there! We are going to load you into the strongest memories we can find. They might not be… stable… Just hold on!”

He wondered how they could hear her.

The screen changed. Now it showed a webbing of, well he did not really know what they were if he was honest.

“Ah, good. The simulation seems to be working,” Amari explained, “although the memories are quite fragmentary. I’ll try to step you through the intact memories, and hope we find one that gives us a clue as to the Institute’s location.”

She did somethings on the terminal until she found a memory for Flynn to walk them through. It was a bedroom with a child on the bed and a woman sitting in a chair next to it. A man could be heard yelling at them from outside the room. A radio was on. MacCready assumed Kellogg was the kid.

“Wait,” Piper said, “is the radio talking about the NCR forming?”

He gave her a confused look, “Wouldn’t that make him around a hundred years old?”

Their side conversation was interrupted by the next memory. They were now looking at a young adult Kellogg in a kitchen with a woman and a baby in a crib. His wife and child. They were talking about having to move, because of his new job. It sounded like mercenary work, or something like it. MacCready felt himself starting to be overcome with a sad sense of Déjà vu. He looked away before his mind started to wander too much. The scene was far more familiar than he liked.

When he looked back they were on to the next memory. He was being taunted by some mysterious voice. When he realized they were taunting him over the death of his wife and child. He knew the look on Kellogg’s face all too well. He was starting to feel more and more uneasy.

The next one made his blood run cold. He was sat in a bar discussing a mercenary job with two guys. The situation by itself was practically nothing. Bars were common places to pick up clients. It was attitude, the way he spoke, and the look on his face that threw MacCready off. It was like looking at himself from just a little over a month ago. The night before he had been hired by Flynn. There were so many similarities. Too many. He started to quietly panic. His mind raced as he thought about how similar they were, and if he might end up like him.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by the sound of Flynn’s muffled yelling and screaming. His head whipped around to look at where she was laying in the memory lounger. Her breathing was faster and she had a pained look on her face, but she was quiet. He looked at the screen instead. He was met with the scene of a row of odd looking pods inside of what looked like a vault. He quickly realized what this memory was. He heard her and the other vault dwellers banging on their pods and yelling. He watched as Shaun’s father begged desperately for them to not take him. He watched as Kellogg shot him without a second thought. He saw the horror on the mother’s face after the gunshot.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that again,” Amari said, “I found another intact memory… Whenever you’re ready.”

He glanced over at Flynn. She was still taking ragged breaths. He could not imagine what she was going though right now. She was living through what he figured was one of her worst memories again.

It took a few moments for the next memory to start. He did not blame her. This one was in a shack. He was sitting in a chair while a child sat on the floor. It took him a moment to realize this was in Diamond City, and that was Shaun.

They watched as a man walked in an odd leather getup and sunglasses.

“One of these days you’re going to get your head blown off just barging in here like that,” Kellogg said.

“Minimizing my exposure to civilians is a prior-”

“Forget I said anything,” he said, cutting the man off, “So, what’s the big crisis this time?”

“New orders for you. One of our scientists has left the Institute,” the synth siad. MacCready assumed he was a synth.

“Left? As in?”

“He’s gone rogue,” he explained, “Name is Doctor Brian Virgil. We know he is hiding somewhere in the glowing sea, here’s his file.”

Kellogg took the file and said, “Guess you’re taking the kid back then.”

“Affirmative. Your only mission is to find and eliminate Virgil.”

“You’re taking me home to my father?” Shaun asked. MacCready felt his heart twinge at that. The kid did not even know about his real parents.

“Yes, stand next to me and hold still,” the synth affirmed.

He then said some things MacCready could not quite understand, and with a crack of blue lightning they were gone and the memory ended.

“Did they just…” he began to ask.

“Teleportation,” Amari confirmed, “Now it all makes sense. No one can find the entrance, because there isn’t one! Let me pull you out of there, as soon as you’re ready.”

After a few moments of her working on the terminal the simulation ended. Valentine woke up before Flynn did, which worried MacCready a bit. He slowly got up from the lounger, as Amari asked him various questions. MacCready ignored them. He was too worried to listen.

After Piper led Valentine upstairs with Dogmeat’s help, Amari addressed MacCready, “It’s normal for one to not wake up immediately… especially if they witnessed a traumatic memory.”

He simply nodded in response.

“When she does wake up,” she continued, “I’m going to need you to keep a close eye on her.”

“I already do,” he muttered.

After a few moments her eyes opened, and so did the pod. He felt relief wash over him.

Amari helped her out of the lounger, asking if she was alright.

“I’m fine,” she tried to assure them. She sounded a little pained and tired, but okay. She looked the same.

“That’s good, but I want you to keep monitoring yourself. We have to be sure there’s no long-term side effects. Are you… ready to talk about what happened in there?”

She took a deep breath, “We got what we needed. Now we know how they get around undetected.”

MacCready frowned at her, but he did not say anything. He was not surprised that she was focusing on what needed to be done.

“Yes,” Amari agreed, “Their greatest secret has finally been revealed, but that only leads to more questions. How does it work? Where do we go next?”

“That scientist Kellogg was supposed to track down. Virgil? We should track him down,” MacCready suggested.

“You’re right! A rogue Institute scientist could answer all kinds of questions, but didn’t they say he was in The Glowing Sea? That doesn’t make much sense. No one goes there. Not even if they’re desperate.”

“Why? What’s The Glowing Sea?” Flynn asked.

That took MacCready aback. At first he worried that the simulation had messed with her head, but then he remembered that she’s only been out of the vault for a month and a half. Sometimes she emulated so much confidence, and she was such a quick learner that he forgot.

“It’s essentially a sea of radiation. It’s rumored that’s where the bomb dropped here, so if you’re going to go there you’ll need a way to combat the radiation,” Amari explained.

She nodded, “I’ll find a way to get through the rads. Don’t worry.”

“If you really are going to track him down, be safe, and good luck.”

“Thanks Doc,” she nodded, “Come on, MacCready.”

“Valentine and Piper are upstairs by the way,” he informed her as she turned to the entrance to the lab.

She nodded. Her steps were slow, but she did not stumble at all. He still followed her closely in case she did.

They found the other two sitting on a couch. When they approached there seemed to be something off about Valentine.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Flynn asked him.

“Hope you got what you were lookin’ for inside my head. He he. I was right. I should’ve killed you when you were on ice,” the words from his mouth said. Although it came from his mouth, it was not his voice. It was Kellogg’s.

“Nick?” Piper exclaimed.

He blinked, “What?”

“You just sounded like Kellogg,” Flynn explained.

“I did? Well, I feel fine now. Amari did say there will be some mnemonic impressions. How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, just need some rest.”

MacCready had a feeling that was not the whole truth, so he held his tongue on. Instead he suggested, “We should head to The Rexford then. See if they have any free rooms.”

“Oh God. I forgot we are going to have to stay here overnight,” Piper burst out, as they left.

He did not really blame her for that, as much as he appreciated Goodneighbor.

Luckily for them The Rexford had two empty rooms for them. MacCready retrieved the keys for the rooms, and he and Flynn wished their new allies goodnight.

When they reached their room Dogmeat immediately curled up at the end of the bed closest to the door. MacCready could not help the small smile that appeared on his face, but it quickly melted quickly when he looked at Flynn. She had discarded her pack at the foot of the other bed. She sat on the edge facing the other. She stared at the wall with a glassy look. It was the same one she had the first two times the vault was brought up with him.

He set his pack on his bed, and then sat next to her.

“You did the right thing today,” he said, trying to comfort her.

“I know I did,” she sighed, “I just wish I could’ve done more then.”

“You can’t think like that. It’s not your fault.”

She did not say anything. She just kept staring.

MacCready stared down at his hands. He thought of the memories he was reminded of. He thought maybe, just maybe, a similar story could comfort her. He took a deep breath and hoped he was not being selfish.

“I know what it’s like to have someone die, and to blame yourself for it,” he confessed, his voice a little shaky, “a few years back my wife and I decided to hole up in a metro station. We didn’t know the thing was filled with ferals.” He could feel his eyes start to sting, and he knew his voice would break, but he continued, “They were on her before I could even fire a shot. They tore her apart, and there was nothing I could do. I blamed myself for her death. I… still do. Don’t do that to yourself.”

He closed his eyes when she rested her head on his shoulder. It had been awhile since someone had touched him that gently other than patching up a physical wound. He did not need to have his eyes open to know she was close to tears too. They had both been through a lot, and everything that had happened that day hurt like a punch to the gut.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“I am too. There’s nothing I can do about what happened, but you can still find the kid… and I’ve got your back the whole way,” he promised. After that day it was more to himself than to her.

He craned his head awkwardly to look at her. He could not get a clear look of her face due to the angle, and her red hair being in the way, but he could see she was exhausted.

“You need to get some sleep,” he suggested, gently nudging her off his shoulder. It felt oddly cold when her head moved away. When she sat up fully he realized she had a light patchwork of freckles on her face. He was not sure if they were new, or if he had just not noticed before. He stood up awkwardly when he realized how close they were.

“Thank you for not running off on me,” she said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Boss,” he teased.

He fought back a smile when he earned a scoff from her.

They went about their routine for when they didn’t have to take turns keeping watch, which ended with him laying on his back and her laying on her side facing away from him.

MacCready reached his hand into his inner jacket pocket, just above his heart. He produced the small, wooden toy soldier Lucy had given him. He had wanted to mention Duncan, but he was not ready for that. He did not have enough caps to buy a proper team, and he did not think there were enough Minutemen to spare for what needed to be done either. No, that would have to wait a bit longer as much as it pained him.

Thoughts of Kellogg crawled back into his brain, as his thumb ran over the figurine. He wondered how similar they really were. How close…

No, he thought, cutting himself off, I’m going to be a better man. I promise.

Read it on ao3

[cookiedoughmeagain]

Haven DVD Commentaries: 5.08 - Exposure

Commentary with Nick Parker (writer for this episode) and Brian Millikin (writer for 5.07)

In which the writers discuss various aspects of the episode including, Mara and Duke, Vince and Dave, the Trouble of the week, production and writing challenges, and Duke’s backstory with regards to his mom.

Content warning for discussion of alcoholism.

[They talk about how a lot of the episodes this season function almost as two-parters, including 5.07 and 5.08 and how the two of them worked together to make sure these two episodes fit together well.] BM: We broke these two episodes on the board side by side and the outlines and scripts went out together. That was the way we did it this season, both for production reasons, because to help us save time we shot two episodes together in block shooting, and also it kind of helped up to ever so slightly change up the pace and story telling of the show a little bit. Keep it a little fresher in this super-sized fifth season.

[They talk about how happy they are with the director for these two episodes and how they turned out; “Nice, dark, moody.”] NP: Some of the most fun scenes to write were between Duke and Mara here where she’s chained up, but she is the one that’s in control. BM: I love it. I think she’s so good as Mara. Look at this, just leaning into Duke’s face and just trying to work him at all times. She was great. They basically spent two full days doing all of these scenes in the hold of the boat. So Emily sat in this chair, literally chained to it (she had to be unchained to get out of the chair) for two days, and Eric just came in and out. And Lucas is in there a couple times as ghost Nathan but that’s it. And I think, she’s never been better. She’s been just as good, but never better.

NP: Yeah, these were super fun to write and then when we started to get the dailies in they were even more fun to watch because they did such a good job in these scenes. And what’s fun about 5.08 is the task of this episode was partly to tell an important Duke story but also to draw them closer together for where they’re going in episodes 9, 10, 11, 12. And starting to elevate their story. And in these scenes Duke starts to see a little bit of, maybe a kindred spirit, or he sees something in Mara that he respects if not likes. BM: And of course the question to be asking is, is that real what he’s seeing? Or is she putting on a show for him? Is she trying to draw him closer, or is it legitimate? Which is a question you’re asking all the way up until 5.13, when … spoilers. NP: Yeah, and also, what she asked him for there, she says she wants the Crocker Journal at first but then that’s not really what she wants. It’s about getting the story about Duke’s mother. Which is something we’ve never heard about, Duke has never talked about his mother. We’ve heard him drone on and one about his father who we’ve even seen in the past (episode 2.12, back in the day) but never heard tale of his mother. Which was an important thing. BM: It’s funny, I know big fans of Nathan groused a little bit because we once again are dealing with a story about Duke’s history and we get comparatively little about Nathan’s past. I think, they’re not wrong. It’s just kind of the way it worked out. The first season of the show was so much about Nathan and his dad - his dad was a regular on the show. And about the loss of his father and the aftermath of that. And we set up that his mom was gone from an early age and we learn a little bit about that in season 5b. But it was just the way of things that is just worked out that Duke’s history just kept coming up in ways that were more organic to the story. But never more so than this episode. I think it’s my favourite part of the episode. NP: It was my favourite part to write, outside of some lines from a character who’s going to be introduced very shortly [Seth], a returning character from an episode I wrote in season 4, 4.11 - Shot in the Dark.

BM: Now, Audrey and Duke here are both in the same wardrobe that they were in the previous episode. But we imagine this is the next day, we imagine a work-all-night situation. I think you kind of get that a little bit with Mara’s cut being a bit more healed. But it made sense that they’d be in the same clothes from working all night - if they know that Nathan’s out there and they need to save him, are they really going to go home, take a shower, change clothes?

[Nick comments on the Ghost Busters reference as Duke calls Seth and both of them laugh as Seth appears on screen, and comment how good Kris Lemche is in the role.] NP: Seth is named after my brother. BM: Kris is fantastic. NP: He’s great. He was such a delight on set and everything. The cast and crew liked working with him so much. He also brings shot of energy into everything. BM: Absolutely. He’s just a different kind of voice than we have in the show a lot. Especially without Jennifer who was a little bit of that outsider commentary. But I just love him. That scene in the script was exactly as written; cut to the inside of the van and a mountain of dirty clothes and cheetos and then you see hair like a shark fin pop up. NP: Which is basically a description of my bedroom and how I wake up every morning. BM: Absolutely.

[Vince and Dave in the hospital] NP: Ah here they’re playing Gin Rummy, which is a game I used to play with my grandfather all the time, before he passed away, and yeah I just thought it would be a great game for two old men - I imagine all old men play Gin Rummy, that’s just how they go through life. BM: Well this is the third time I think we’ve seen them play a different game together. It’s king of a motiv for Vince and Dave that we find them in the middle of playing something. I like it, it speaks to them a little bit. NP: Yeah and I kind of wanted to have them in a little bit of a different space in this episode. Seasons one and two especially, Vince and Dave were comic relief. BM: Absolutely. NP: We’d go to them and we’d have some nice back and forth, and bickering and banter, and it was a nice change of pace. But as things got darker and Vince revealed who he really is and Dave’s revelation about him being adopted, things got darker and I enjoyed being able to write them in a little bit of a lighter way. Which happens in this scene a little bit and then more so later in the episode. BM: Yeah and they also were not in the previous episode. These guys have never been in every single episode in a given season, but I think we had them so much in the previous episodes that they’re absence was felt in the last one so we were happy to have them back.

[Both of them laughing as Seth appears on screen again.] NP: That was also a nice thing about Seth. There’s kind of timelessness about Haven in some ways. We know when it’s set, but it feels kind of timeless because it’s the quaint small town and everything. And to be able to have Seth come in and make some strange pop culture references is always fun. BM: Yeah. We don’t typically have ton of pop culture references, so when we do it it stands out pretty well, like the Groundhog Day joke from a couple seasons past. But yeah you just get away with it with Kris Lemche. NP: Well luckily he sells it so well I can just be silly. And it’s fun. BM: It was great. I don’t remember when it was that we came up with the idea of bringing him in for this episode, but I think it was after we had settled on the idea of the ‘ghost’ Trouble. And then we knew that episode 7 was going to have All The Bad Things, and then episode 8 was going to be; now we actually have to solve the thing. And even you and I were like; how are we going to do that? And I think it was someone else who suggested, what they need is to try to find a way to reach out to Nathan and we’ve had one other episode where we’ve had devices that do that kind of stuff. And I remember someone was like; Come on, we can’t do a ghostbustery thing. And I was like; Well if you think about it, Nathan is the victim of a Trouble which means it’s caused by aether which means there’s a kind of residual aether quality to it, so of course it would work. NP: It was a conversation I was having with our excellent leader Gabrielle Stanton, where she was saying; We’ve been looking for a time to work Kris back in, they want to have him back up there and this could be a good time to do it. And I jumped all over the idea of writing him again, because he was just so much fun to work with. BM: Yeah, it’s funny, it’s a little bit like with William who shows up again in season 5b and so Seth, and they were just characters we really liked and actors we really liked in the role. And whenever we have a chance to, it’s something we’ve always tried to do, is bring people back. It helps to flesh out the world and make it feel a bit more real. NP: Absolutely. Living in the reality of the way things are. And though William is a transdimensional character from another world, he still brings - he jokes about the situations there’re in, he points out the ridiculousness of where they are, which is something that Seth does as well. So that’s always nice to incorporate whenever we can. And also necessary to  just lighten things. I mean Audrey is now talking to her ghost boyfriend in a desperate attempt to bring him back; it’s pretty heavy. BM. Yep. But this episode establishes Seth as a solid recurring character in our world, right along the lines of Marion from the pilot, Agent Howard, Stan, all the other people who have come to have a real role to play and I’m happy that he’s part of the club.

NP: The bourbon Duke and Mara are drinking here, Gunslinger Standard, we named that for a Stephen King reference. Gunslinger is a reference to Roland Deschain from the Gunslinger. And now they are just going to drink, and drink, and drink. BM: I love his glassware. NP: It’s pretty classy. I love how Duke is like; I’m going to have to tell this story so I’m going to have to be drunk, and the first thing he does is drink about three shots of bourbon in one go. BM: We joked about it internally and maybe we should stop joking because maybe it’s a serious problem that Duke has; he might be an alcoholic. We joked about having a drinking game; what if you just drank whenever Duke drinks. If you were to watch a couple episodes in a row, you would be hammered. NP: Yes. Luckily Eric Balfour is drinking sweet tea.

[As Seth and Audrey are talking in her office] NP: So we’re seeing Audrey’s confidence hit the bottom here. She’s come to rely on Nathan, she doesn’t have her immunity any more; she kind of feels lost in a way. And so this is asking a lot of her to put all this weight on her shoulders while also going through the stress of losing the person that she loves. And with Seth talking about he lost his partner as well (Anderson from 4.11) there’s a little bit of kinship there between them. BM: Yeah absolutely, I think that parallel of them both having lost a partner, and what are you without your other half, is fantastic. NP: It was fun to write. BM: And also just on a purely mercenary level; she needed someone to talk to in these scenes. Because Duke is off on the Mara side of things, which he has to be. Audrey can’t talk to Nathan. And there’s nobody else. So the fact that he’s there is useful, but he really brings something to is; the actor does, the character does. NP: Yeah he’s good. And he did a great job with Adam Copeland in past episodes, though we don’t have Adam for these episodes as we said before. BM: Yeah and Vince and Dave are still in North Carolina. NP: And thankfully for us, Emily is a hilarious person with great comedic timing, so her dry delivery works so well. BM: Yeah I know, I always wish that we could get more opportunities for her to be funny. Because she is.

BM: So we’re back in the Raleigh hospital with Dave trying to make a desperate escape. BM: I remember how much conversation we had, you and I in particular, about the fact they’re in the Raleigh hospital. NP: Oh my god. [They discuss the journey from North Carolina to Maine and how they’ve driven it before and the routes you might take and the places you might go past, and how Raleigh is not one of them.]  BM: But we figure they’re not locals, they don’t know North Carolina. NP: I was fighting hard. But I remember it also came down to a discussion about how is Manteo pronounced. And I called the Manteo tourism board to confirm. BM: But these hospital scenes were fun for these two. We shot them all in one day, I think, one afternoon? And it wound up being really fun. You had kind of an uphill battle because you knew they basically just had to be in the hospital room; that was it. And we needed four scenes. But you did a great job with it.

NP: Oh here comes the story about [Duke’s] mother, which was quite a doozy. BM: Now I remember, we had always talked about how this episode would be the one where Duke opens up and tells Mara a story. Tells her a story about his mom, something that Mara wanted him to tell her. And it was a big deal because she’s asking for something and now he’s giving it to her. And something he didn’t want to share, something he hasn’t shared before. In the thumbnail document, the story pitch and then the outline of these scenes, it just said; Duke tells a story about his mom. And the outline was great, so it’s like; Nick, go write the scripts, and I think it was Speed Weed, one of our other writers, was like; Should we talk about what this story is? And our show runners were like; Nah, Nick go deal with it. We call it a WP - Writer Problem. So a lot of times the outline will call for someone to steal something, and the details of how they steal it is a WP, it’s left to the writer to figure out. But this was a HUGE WP, because this was a significant story about one of our main characters, and none of us knew which way you were going to go. I remember seeing you in the office thinking and working on it, and then we all finally saw the script you came up with, and it was Awesome. NP: Thanks! It was a lot of fun to write. But, as you said, it was a mountain because, I mean Duke is such a big character. So I kind of decided to go the whole way with it and turn it into a kind of origin story. BM: It’s what made Duke, Duke. Or, finished the job of turning him into Duke. NP: Yeah. Duke had learned some things from his father and saw the path his father was headed. BM: He’d already been abandoned, his father was a douche, and then he died. NP: We know from past episodes that his father died in 1983-ish, because of Lucy. And so he would have been 8 years old or something. So it’s like, where does he go from there, how does he turn into the character that we know, this guy who speaks Mandarin and is a rogue and smuggler and everything else? And so I really kind of tried to have that story tell what made Duke, Duke. BM: Yeah, like part two of his origin story. NP: Yep. BM: But it was really great. Really sad. NP: Real sad. BM: But it felt earned. I don’t know, I just loved it. I think If it changed at all [from the first draft], I’m talking like we moved the word ‘the’ or ‘and’ around. Sometimes we have stuff that really doesn’t get changed at all, just because everyone really liked it. And it made perfect sense. Once you read it, it really couldn’t be anything else. NP: Thank you. It was also funny later on in production when we were talking about cutting a couple things and knowing we had to cut for time, there was never any discussion of shortening any of those scenes whatsoever. It was like; everything in the hold we’re keeping, forever, so the cuts are going to have to come from elsewhere. BM: I remember you also had to work a lot on the details of Seth’s stuff because one of the other WPs was; And then Seth’s got “the device”. And it was never really specified what that was. But when you’re writing the script you’re going to have to talk about what it looks like and how it works. So this idea of having to stick the electrodes on Nathan, but that won’t work because he’s a ghost - you had to come up with all this too. NP: Yeah and hopefully it works, because he’s developing this idea but then we put a much quicker ticking clock on it, so that he doesn’t have a chance to modify the device the way he’d envisioned. And so it has to be taken through to the other side as Audrey ends up doing. [Both of them laughing at Seth with his hands in the air as Audrey reminds him she’s armed.] BM: Congratulations by the way on that classic moment, of wait say that again, what you said just gave me an idea. This one totally works, because of the pose that he does with his arms up, the exact pose that Reggie did before he disappeared. NP: Yeah I tried to cover that moment with some Kris Lemche joking and of course he sold it super well. BM: They both sold it, and that idea that it was the pictures that was making them disappear and that the shadows they left were related to the photos, that was something that we had from the start.

BM: Oh here’s Vince [sneaking into the hospital office]. I always like when we can show Vince and Dave kind of being badasses a little bit, showing off their skills. NP: Everyone knows them as the lore-keepers and protectors of Haven, but you don’t get that job in a place as crazy as Haven by being a softy or being a sweet man who wears pink glasses. You’ve got to be a bad ass and these moments are fun to write for that reason. BM: They are, and we always talk about a Haven prequel series you could do about these guys in the prime of their youth. And they were probably the Nathan and Duke of the town. But they’ve still got it, sometimes, and it’s always a great opportunity when we can have them doing stuff as opposed to just being the librarian-type exposition devices that in previous season they often ended up being, just by necessity because they knew so much. NP: I also find that whenever you can have Richard Donat pull out a Southern accent. BM: He’s also really funny. He doesn’t often get to play as much comedy as John Dunsworth as Dave does. So I like seeing him try and fail at this grifting attempt here. And he gets busted, which was great. And the other actor in this scene is really great too. NP: Yeah we had some great casting in both of these episodes, between Chris Masterson [as Morgan], Kris Lemche [as Seth] and Lara Jean Chorostecki [as Amy Potter]. We both know Lara Jean originally from Hannibal, as investigative journalist Freddie Lounds. That was a role that was gender-swapped from the books for the TV show and she was cast in it and that could not have been a better move on Hannibal’s part. She is just awesome, awesome, awesome in that role. BM: She is terrific. We were totally in her corner from the get go. I think she even just looked like what we imagined the character might look like. But just her energy and everything, we were just like; let’s get her. And so she did it and everyone loved her. And we were like; Can we bring her back? But her Trouble doesn’t really lend itself to something that we could keep using. So we were like; Could we just give her a job in the police station or something? NP: New crime scene photographer? BM: But I think she’s going back to Hannibal, or some other project. We were lucky to get her. NP: We should write a Haven spin off series that’s just Kris Lemche and Lara Jean Chorostecki on the road. They just made people turn into ghosts.

[As we’re back with Duke and Mara again] BM: How much of the bourbon is gone by this point I wonder? NP: They have drunk a lot of Gunslinger Standard, and that is some strong, strong bourbon. BM: But think about his tolerance. I mean, he’s not slurring his speech. I’d be asleep. Or at the very least drooling on myself or something. He’s a cool customer. [They joke that maybe Mara is immune to alcohol as well as the Troubles.] BM: But they did a great job with this. We’ve talked about how well this scene was written but they take it the rest of the way. It’s kind of like passing someone a football - it’s a good pass but then they have to run the rest of the way with it. And they absolutely did. NP: They score a touchdown. Eric really, really killed it here. We do tone calls before each episode to talk through the big scenes, and I just remember the tone call with Eric was so very, very short this time. Because I think he had just really lived in that story and really kind of got a good handle on it. And then once we saw the dailies we were like; Yeah, we didn’t need to say a single word to him. He couldn’t have done a better job with it. Kudos Eric. BM: Yeah, he was like; Totally get it, completely, let me do it.

[As Nathan is searching Guard HQ] NP: Here you can see what we talked about before, the desolate Children of Men, post-apocalyptic look to this warehouse. BM: It’s a little bit of a preview of things to come. I love Nathan going through the wall there. NP: Yeah we had a bunch of these moments, but it was a production question as to how man can we actually afford to do, how many do we have time for. There are some that are critical, like Morgan falling through, and the gun getting knocked away. BM: But there’s none for me that are cooler than Nathan with his gun out going through those two walls. It looks great, the fact it was all just this one swooping camera move. And it’s good from a story stand point because it’s Nathan using his situation to some extent to his advantage. NP: Yep and coming up here we’ve got Audrey doing the same thing of using her situation to her advantage. Right now they’re putting together all of the math of how the Trouble works. She’s understanding that Nathan is in mortal danger, which leads to a big decision for her, to put herself in danger and using her lack of immunity to her advantage in order to be able to save Nathan. BM: Our art department killed it with these photos here. And this is great with Seth being the voice of reason a little bit. And Audrey stepping up - this is a really important moment for her because she’s not immune and that’s been getting to her but now she’s going for it. NP: And credit goes to you for that set up, because it was something that you were really pursuing that her being immune is going to be the story for these episodes. And I think it worked out great. BM: That’s the thing people will refer to these episodes as; Ghost Nathan and then Audrey not being immune. I think the cutting back and forth here [from Audrey and Seth at Amy’s place to Nathan fighting Reggie in Guard HQ], both in the script and by our editor, works so well. The gunshots come [into Reggie’s back] and you don’t know if it’s Audrey, and then you reveal that it’s Morgan. NP: And it’s funny, that kind of action sequence would normally come much later in an episode, but we were trying to keep things so fast here, and really the last couple of acts of this episode take place over the course of minutes. It’s all in real time and it’s really fast, so we were trying to keep it energetic as a result. BM: Pretty much everything this season is real time. Like, last week’s episode happened 25 minutes ago.

BM: It’s funny, we had one real goal going into this episode for what the Vince and Dave story was going to be, and it didn’t really have much to do with this scene [where Vince is caught trying to steal Dave’s biopsy sample from the hospital]. All we knew was that Vince and Dave were going to get a sample of Dave’s leg wound taken, by the CDC as it turns out at the end of the episode. NP: Oh, Dearing Place there [on the note Audrey’s left for Nathan], that’s the street I used to live on. BM: So all of this with Vince and Dave trying to steal the sample back and failing and pretending to be other people, was all sort of invented to make more of a story out of it and it ended up working out really well. It’s fun for those guys, because things have gotten pretty serious for them and they get very serious as the season goes along, so it’s good to give them an opportunity to have fun. NP: Yeah and I was trying to accomplish a lot with that storyline; giving them some playful banter, having them show off their skills and what got them to where they are and the men that they were, and also platforming where they’re going because Dave’s leg wound is getting worse and worse. BM: Yeah, and it’s my favourite kind of B story, or C story really, which is that it has nothing to do with what’s going on in the episode but it’s the last scene in the episode and that story with Charlotte Cross coming to town comes to dominate the entire series. So it seemed like it was just this, tangential something, but it winds up being more significant than anything else in the episode. The best kind of C story there is. NP: I enjoyed this scene as well [Mara and Duke talking in the hold again], this was fun because they’re trying to figure out the math of the Trouble and how it works, and for dramatic, and also story, purposes we needed a delay between when Amy takes the picture and when the person disappears. And so we were trying to figure out how does that work? And because this is a Trouble that has evolved from a painter back in the day, the printing is the completion of the photo. And that just made sense and felt right for us in the digital age. BM: It’s funny I’m not sure when we came up with that idea, it must have been pretty early on. But it solved so many problems. Because we needed there to be a delay, and also a reason why Audrey tries it on herself and it doesn’t work. And I think we were struggling with that at the same time someone else - it might have been Speed Weed because he so frequently bangs the drum of like; Well, this is the Trouble now, but what would the Trouble have been like hundreds of years ago when Mara and William first made them? You know, they didn’t have cameras back then, so how did it work back then geniuses? And we were like; Well, back then it would have been something else. NP: Oil painting. BM: We’ve always liked the idea that they, sort of, not evolve but that a Trouble could mean something different nowadays than it would back then. So we thought well it could have been a painter’s Trouble way back when. Or a sculptor, maybe it left some clay dust. NP: Yeah a splash of paint, or clay dust. BM: And nowadays it leaves this photographic imprint. But before it was when a painting is finished, so when is a picture ever finished, in the world of photoshop, resizing, filters … Well it’s when you print it out. NP: And I think once we found that in our conversations, it was like; Great, perfect - now we know and everything evolved from that. [And they then compare that moment they had to Seth’s kind of triumphant reaction when Audrey disappears.] NP: I think this [as Dave comes to Vince’s rescue with his Garland impersonation] is my favourite of all the Vince and Dave scenes, just because John is so funny here. I remember writing this and I think I went a little bit … BM: We share the same office, Nick’s desk is on another wall, and I could hear you laughing. I had my ear buds in but I could hear you laughing to yourself. And you were writing this scene. NP: I was laughing at myself, which was not cool. BM: But this was one of the few scenes that’s really written specifically for him to play this kind of comedy character and he sunk his teeth into it. NP: He goes fully nuts. I actually ended up cutting the rest of that scene and moving it later. But the interesting thing about this here [as Amy’s getting ready to take a photo of herself] is, there used to be another scene in between where we saw the Morgan side of it. But instead we wanted to delay the mystery of what’s happening in the other room. So we cut that whole scene, and I couldn’t have been happier with that.

[As Amy hugs Morgan] BM: This is where we realised how good Laura Jean was too in the role of Amy, because this was an incredibly hard scene for her. You don’t really think about it, but if you’re the actress that has to play the role; this is impossible: she thought that her fiance was dead and gone until a few minutes ago, and now she’s seen him again, but she’s also processing everything else that’s happening with this situation. She’s got an incredible amount to work though. And she totally did it. NP: Yeah, and she doesn’t get to do it in a lot of lines, because a lot of the exposition of it has to come from the other characters. BM: She was great.

[Both laughing at Dave rescuing Vince] BM: This makes me wish we could have them as con artists more frequently. NP: Yes, they’re good at it. BM: And that was kind of the impetus behind episodes five and six, to get Vince and Dave out of Haven and on a mission. Even if it goes horribly awry.

NP: Laura Jean is really selling it here. She gets two or three words to go through all of this emotion but she really sells it so, so well. BM: Yeah, she’s terrific. I mean I thought she was great in Hannibal, but I really thought she brought something even more to the table here. NP: Well and what’s great about it is, her character in Hannibal is very manipulative, a bit of a psychopath in her own way, she’s very, very cold. But here, she has to be extremely empathetic but also go through really complex emotions super, super fast. And she handles both the Hannibal role, and this much smaller - and probably less rewarding - role both very, very well. BM: She’s very good.

[As we see the final flash that signals the Trouble’s resolved] NP: It’s always tough figuring that exact moment when the Trouble is solved and, how does everyone know. BM: What I also really liked about this is that she kind of solved it herself. NP: We’ve been talking about Lara Jean a lot but Chris [as Morgan] also does an awesome job, escalating this emotion here, getting in Nathan’s face; he’s really selling it. And there’s Seth with the knock-out blow. I just really like his line here [“I am the one who goes bump in the night”]. It is terrible and it was a fun thing to write - and I knew Kris would exactly get the humour of that moment. And in the dailies it was funny, he kept picking up the tripod and saying other ridiculous things; I’m sure it’s going to be all over the blooper reel because he was just hilarious. BM: It was originally going to be a picture frame that Seth used to knock Morgan out, but I think there was concern that we could have seriously injured Chris Masterson, so it became a tripod. But his line there is an obvious reference to Walter White’s “I am the one who knocks” line which is just one of the best lines ever in television. This being of course one of the worst lines ever in television.

[As Seth is saying goodbye to Nathan and Audrey] BM: So this scene here ended up touching on maybe a bit of a touchy subject for Audrey and Nathan, which was brought in relief with what Morgan said earlier about; Why are you the only ones who get to be happy? So they’re starting to ask themselves if Morgan was right and if they’ve been selfish - because, she got Nathan back, but at what cost to Morgan? NP: And it’s been going for a while too, since season four - they keep fighting for each other so much, and what is the cost? BM: I think it’s an important thing, a realistic conversation for them to have. Granted of course it’s not just Nathan; they’ve just saved a bunch of people around town who were also ghosts. And Morgan’s a bad guy, and Nathan can do a lot of good, as a human being, not a ghost. NP: It’s funny, the tail end of that scene changed a lot because as we were getting closer to it, it became more and more clear that we were going to want to bring Kris back as Seth again for more episodes in the back half of season 5b. So before he was like; I’m getting out of Haven, goodbye forever, kind of thing. And then it softened and softened. BM: Yeah we left the door open because at this point we knew we were going to bring him back, but we didn’t know if he was going to be a surprise new resident of Haven, or if we were going to have them be like; Hey man, come back to Haven. So we had to be super vague about where he was going.

[As we’re back with Mara and Duke again] BM: So they’re probably on a second bottle at this point, right? NP: They are fully drunk. BM: I would be on the phone with a hospital [if I had drunk that much] NP: A hospital or an ex-girlfriend, one of the two. [As Mara is talking about the importance of intention when releasing a Trouble] This also is something that was in the works from the very beginning, what we always knew we wanted to accomplish was Mara saying; You were the one who was in the driver’s seat when you split me and Audrey, this was your Trouble you were expressing. And over the course of those episodes he’s probably learned better how to express them and she’s saying here that; You want me here - why? BM: And it kind of answers a question that was posed at the beginning of 5.07, which was - how did this happen? Why did this happen? Duke was flicking through the Crocker Journal but he had no idea. And then Mara poses a theory here which is that he selects the Trouble that he wants to, whether he knows it or not, and that he maybe wanted to split Audrey and Mara apart. NP: Yep. BM: And I love it, it’s great.

[The final scene with Vince and Dave outside the Gull] NP: Of course they drink drinks with little umbrellas. BM: It’s not exactly a sunny day outside either. NP: Well it was funny, for production we didn’t have a Grey Gull day. BM: This moved tons of times. NP: Moved a bunch of times; I re-wrote this scene probably half a dozen times. BM: It was going to be outside the Haven Herald at one point, or just on some patio somewhere, some place they could shoot in town. But in the end we shot this weeks later, right? NP: Yeah, Shawn picked it up with a second unit some time. BM: But from back in the beginning of the year when we started mapping out what are the big tent poles for every season, this was always the last scene of this episode; Charlotte Cross comes to town. Because that really kicks off what is the rest of the season; it’s really the main story for the next couple episodes. NP: I thought the art department did a great job with the CDC logo. You can’t use the actual CDC logo; every show that uses CDC has to come up with their own logo, and our art department is really good with those kinds of things. BM: Yes. Shout out to Laura Mennell as well, as Charlotte Cross. We were really lucky to get her. NP: She’s so good. BM: She ends up joining the cast as a regular and I think we’re better for it. She obviously has some big surprises to come, which I guess we can’t talk about now. NP: It’s funny, we’re kind of the book ends for her character; introduced and then …. BM: Oh that’s right, well we can’t say. But this was a great episode. Thanks Nick! NP: Thanks for watching y’all.