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[filmfanatic82]

AO3 link (HERE)

Chapter 14:

“That thing you're puttin’ on me

Has got me so confused

Won't somebody help me, tell me what should I do

In my heart it feels so good, is it just a curse

Will it get better, or will it get worse

Is it love, or just a curse

Do you feel good when I hurt

I need your heart to open up

If this love's not real, then it's just my luck”

-- Is It Love, Pink

__________

“Pen?! Pen?! Oh, God! Please wake up… Please…” Josie's voice cuts through the darkness like a warm beacon of hope, pulling Penelope back into the land of consciousness. Penelope blinks and instantly winces from the white-hot pain radiating out from the back of her head. 

“Jojo?” Penelope says as the familiar surroundings of Alaric’s office once again come into view. “Did you hit me?” 

Josie lets out a wet bark of a laugh and nods through her tears. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were one of those guys.”  

“Triad?” 

Josie nods again. She wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt and then forces herself to smile. 

“And here I was worried you didn’t have a way to defend yourself.” Penelope sits up as she tries to shake off the last remaining remnants of the spontaneous head injury. “Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

Penelope shrugs. “Eh… I’ve lived through worse.”

“You really have, haven’t you?” Josie responds with a softness to her voice that all but instantly breaks Penelope. She ever-so-carefully reaches forward and brushes her fingers against the tender flesh of Penelope’s neck, tracing an invisible pathway that Penelope knows by heart. 

“Jojo,” Penelope says fighting with every ounce of strenght she has left within her to keep her composure. “I’m so--”

“Don’t,” Josie cuts Penelope off. Her fingers stop and she blinks back a fresh set of tears. “Please don’t apologize. Not ever again.”

“But, I--”

Before Penelope can get another word out, Josie’s lips are upon her own pouring out an endless wealth of mixed emotions. Grief… Fear… Sorrow… Love… Passion… Desire… Each one spreads across Penelope’s soul, patching back up the hardened cracks one by one. 

And for a moment, everything ceases to exist except for Penelope and the girl she would always call her home. Just the two of them. Together again. Bodies and souls interlocking once more like two long lost puzzle pieces.

But it’s only for a moment. 

A long slow clap penetrates the room like a gunshot, instantly grabbing hold of both Penelope’s and Josie’s full attention. 

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Penelope’s head whips towards the doorway to find a hulking man clad in head to toe black tactical gear staring back at them. He claps steadily, with one hand holding tight onto a 9 millimeter, locked and loaded as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“Please… Don’t stop on my behalf,” the man says, each word dripping with a thick, condescending tone. “Go on. Act as if I’m not here at all.”

Penelope slowly rises to the feet, never once taking her eyes off of the man. She places her hand on Josie’s arm and nudges her to step behind. “Who are you?” 

“Oh, I think you know who I am, Penelope Park.” A sick and twisted smirk spreads across the man’s lips. “But I’ll play along for the hell of it. My name is Burr and I work--”

“For Triad,” Penelope responds, finishing Burr’s sentence.

“Ah, you do know, don’t you?” 

“We don’t have what you’re looking for.” Penelope tightens her grip on Josie as her eyes dart between the gun and Burr’s obsidian eyes. 

“And what would that be?” Burr responds. He takes a step into the room, causing Penelope to automatically inch backward.

Penelope goes to open her mouth but before she can get the words out--

“The relic,” Josie says. She steps out from behind Penelope, to face Burr dead on. She takes hold of Penelope’s hand and gives it a firm squeeze. “You’re here for the relic.” 

Burr’s sick smile widens at the full sight of Josie. “Good guess, Ms. Saltzman. And you would’ve been right, except for someone-- someone who ironically enough just so happens to be in this very room right now-- altered our time.”

“How the hell do you know…” Penelope trails off too confused to even finish her own thought. 

“That you used a Cultellus Intempestus? Or that you aren’t from this exact timeline?” Burr asks. “Both are valid questions.”

Penelope swallows the dry lump of sudden panic bubbling up in the back of her throat. She can’t pull her eyes off of the gun.

How does he know?

And more importantly… 

What comes next?

Penelope’s mind runs rampant, cycling through the thousands upon thousands of possibilities. Each one is more terrifying than the last. 

If it’s not about the relic and Malivore, then why are they even here to begin with?

Penelope’s eyes dart faster. Ping-ponging from the gun to Burr to Josie and then back to the gun. 

What is she missing?  

“So if you’re not here for the relic, then what do you want?” Penelope asks finally breaking the silence in the room. 

“Simple,” Burr responds without a moment’s hesitation. “I want you.”

“What?” Penelope blurts out in disbelief. She feels Josie instinctively move closer as a wave of palatable fear radiates off of the brunette. “Me? You want me? But why?”

Burr lets out a mocking laugh and cocks his head in surprise. “Really? You can’t figure it out? I practically spelled it out for you, but if that’s the case, then alright… Let’s do this. We want you, Penelope Park, for one reason and one reason only. Knowledge. You-- more specifically that brain of yours-- has a wealth of future knowledge that is, in short, invaluable in a multitude of ways. Ways that you nor I can’t even begin to fathom just yet. But, if used correctly, it could ensure the future safety of thousands of human beings. If not, the entire world.”

“You make it sound like I’m freakin’ Sarah Connor or something.” 

Burr shrugs. “In some ways you are.”

“Fine. If you want knowledge, then you can have it. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Penelope replies with a strong exhale of air. She’s trying to keep her poker face intact but it’s getting harder with each and every second that passes. 

Burr sucks his teeth and in that instance, Penelope knows that it isn’t going to be as simple as her participating in a lengthy debriefing session or two. “Yeah… That’s not going to work. I meant what I said… Triad wants you.”

“No,” Josie says with forcefulness to her voice that Penelope has heard only once before from the girl. Now it’s Josie’s turn to take a slight step in front, blocking Penelope from Burr with her full body. “You can’t have her.”

“Oh, but I can.” Burr fires back. He waves his gun as a cold, harsh reminder, causing both Josie and Penelope to tense up with the mere thought of what resides within its chambers. “See either Penelope here is going to come with me peacefully without any funny business from you or anyone else for that matter… or else I’m going to ensure that history repeats itself.” 

And Penelope knows without a doubt that he means every single last word. Burr will pull that trigger. He’s done it before. So, he will do it again in a heartbeat if provoked. 

There’s no other option… At least none in the given moment. Especially not without the use of magic. 

It’s either freely go with Burr and Triad or…

Or nothing.

The alternative is simply not an option. 

Not for Penelope.

Penelope starts to move out from behind Josie once again. “Josie, I--”

“No.” Josie shoves Penelope back, shielding her even more than before from Burr’s grasp. “Not an option.”

“But--”

“No!” 

“Time’s a tickin’ ladies,” Burr says with an audible click of his gun. “You’ve got to the count of five.” 

“Josie…” Penelope says, locking eyes with the brown-haired siphoner.

“1… 2…”

“No! Don’t you even dare think about it. I’m not letting you go with him. I’m not--” Josie fires back.

“3… 4…”

“Jojo, please,” Penelope cuts Josie off as she fights with all of her might to get out from behind the girl. “Just let me—“

“5.”

CRASH.

BANG.

What happens next is nothing short of a blur of chaotic commotion. Just as Burr pulls the trigger, the office door explodes open in a hailstorm of wooden splinters, instantaneously knocking everyone off of their feet. 

Penelope hits the floor with a sobering thud, knocking the air straight out of her lungs on impact. She lets out a long groan, then rolls to her side and coughs, trying her best to shake off the blast.

“Penelope?” 

“Jojo?” Penelope mumbles in reply, voice thick with confusion. She glances over towards the doorway, expecting to see the brown-haired siphoner but instead spots Lizzie and Hope. They stand there side by side, hands joined and slightly out of breath. 

And in an instance, Penelope knows that their powers are back. There’s no mistaking it. Lizzie and Hope share a look of slight surprise mixed with the post-spell rush of adrenaline.

Hope and Lizzie both race into the office, wordlessly dividing and conquering. Lizzie makes a beeline straight for Burr’s unconscious body and without a moment’s hesitation, siphons some magic off of the floor and performs a binding spell, encasing Burr in a dense blue aura. 

Hope moves towards Penelope and scrambles to clear away the excess debris. “Pen?! You okay?”

“Yeah,” Penelope pushes herself up and takes a good look around at the wreckage of the office. “What the hell was that?” 

“A Crepitus charm,” Lizzie responds. She scoops up Burr’s gun and safely tucks it away in the waistband of her jeans. “Still working out a kink or two with it.”

“Kink? You call causing exploding a half-ton oak wood door into thousands of pieces a kink?” Hope asks, shooting Lizzie a look of pure disbelief.

“Yes… Yes, I do. The alternative could’ve been me causing the whole room to explode.” Lizzie joins in on clearing the debris. “Now where’s my sister?”

“She was just here,” Penelope says. Hope helps her up to her feet and the three begin to comb the piles of debris for any signs whatsoever of Josie. 

“There! Under the desk!” Hope shouts not even a second later and before Lizzie or her has time to react, Penelope is already there. She carefully flips back over the upended desk to reveal Josie’s battered body strewn amongst the wreckage like a discarded rag doll. 

“No… No…” Penelope utters as a wave of impending doom crashes down upon her. She immediately drops down, clearing out the stray pieces of splintered wood and starts to check Josie’s vitals.

“Oh God…” Hope says, frozen in place at the sight of Josie.

“Is she…” Lizzie follows up, eyes also glued upon her sister’s seemingly lifeless body.

“No. There’s a pulse and she’s breathing, but…” Penelope trails off as her eyes wander downwards towards Josie’s chest and is hit dead on with yet another tidal wave of pure, undiluted dread. There, in the center of Josie’s chest is a small but distinct bullet hole. “No! Shit! No! He shot her… Fuck! He shot her!”

The brutal honesty of Penelope words manage to instantly unfreeze both Lizzie and Hope. They rush over to join the raven-hair girl, as all eyes lock in on the tiny charred hole. 

“Why isn’t there blood?” Hope asks, glancing over at Penelope in bewilderment. 

“I… I dunno…” Penelope shakes her head as her mind races for an answer-- any answer-- to Hope’s question. 

There should be blood. 

But there isn’t any…

How can that be?

Lizzie grabs hold of the bottom of Josie’s sweatshirt and carefully lifts it up to reveal…  

A bulletproof vest.

“What the…” Penelope utters, staring at the vest, not fully believing her eyes. Her fingers trace over the indention in the center of the material where the fragments of the bullet are lodged, jagged yet somewhat smooth to the touch.

“I read the journal,” Josie says in nothing more than a whisper as her eyes flicker open and a small smile slides across her lips. 

And Penelope can’t help but let out a sob of relief. She smiles back at Josie as tears start to form in her eyes. “You did?”

Josie nods with a wince. “Every last word.”

“You did,” Penelope repeats her words letting their meaningfully sink in. She leans in and plants a loving peck of a kiss upon Josie’s lips unable to express her utter sense of thankfulness in any other way. 

“Well thank fucking god,” Lizzie says with a shake of her head. “But where the hell did you get a bulletproof vest from?” 

“Dad,” Josie responds. 

“Alaric has a bulletproof vest?” Hope asks almost more to herself than to anyone else in the room.

Josie nods. “He keeps in the back of his weapons closet, behind the crossbows. I’ve seen it a few times before so that’s why I came here first. Figured I should grab it just in case something were to happen.”

“Smart move,” Hope replies with a weighted exhale of air. 

“I know, but at the moment, it doesn’t exactly feel like it...” Josie attempts to sit up, but only manages to move a few inches before collapsing back down in visible pain. “Even with this thing on, getting shot still hurts like hell.” 

“No shit,” Lizzie says.

“Here,” Penelope hooks her arm under Josie’s body, allowing the brunette to lean her weight against her, and carefully helps her up to her feet.

Josie takes a moment to catch her breath and then glances over at Burr. “What should we do with him?”

“The binding spell should hold up for now unless magic goes back down again. We can put a Sigillum charm on the office as well as a safety measure since there isn’t a door to lock anymore,” Hope shoots Lizzie a look at these words and Lizzie just rolls her eyes in response. “And then Lizzie and I can go track down Alaric… You two should head to my room. It’s the most secure place, given its location. Plus, it’s the last place anyone will think to look for either one of you.”

Penelope nods and readjusts her grip on Josie before starting to lead them towards the doorway. “Sounds good to me.”

“Please be safe,” Josie says to Lizzie as she reaches out and gives Lizzie’s hand a light squeeze. 

“Me? I should be saying that to you,” Lizzie scoffs but returns the squeeze nonetheless in a shared moment of sisterly reassurance.

“Don’t worry, Liz,” Penelope pipes up, catching hold of Lizzie’s eyes for a moment. “I’ve got her.”

“I know you do,” Lizzie responds with an all-knowing smile. 

And with that, Penelope and Josie take off out of the office and back into the melee unfolding throughout the hallways of the school. They zigzag through the chaos, ducking and weaving as they go, with Penelope never once loosening her death-lock grip on Josie. 

Shots ring out and random hexes fire back all at once, from all sides hitting anything and everything in their way. It’s nothing short of a supernatural war zone on steroids with no clear signifier as to who really has the real upper hand. 

“Pen,” Josie says in between labored breaths as she struggles to keep up. “I… I can’t--”

“Yes, you can,” Penelope cuts her off and once again readjusts her arms in order to take on even more of Josie’s weight. “You’ve got this, Jojo. Just need to get past the library, down the stairs and over to--” 

BOOM.

Stunned, Penelope and Josie freeze in their tracks. A mangled mess of hulking Triad members fly through the air only ten feet in front of them and crash into the nearby wall with a bone-crushing thud. 

“What the--” 

“Go!” Lizzie screams out from behind them and Penelope glances back to spot the blonde-haired siphoner standing there, back to back with Hope, firing off spells with an expert-like precision.  

“Is that…” Josie asks in slight disbelief as they pick back up the pace and continue on down the hallway. 

“Oh yeah,” Penelope responds. “Safe to say Salvatore has a new power couple.” 

“Seriously.”

__________

“Sera,” Penelope says under her breath and with a quick flick of her fingers, a cool green film expands across the dorm room door forming an impenetrable seal. “There. No one’s getting in here unless they have the password.”

“And what’s that?” Josie asks as she finishes peels off the bulletproof vest from her body and then slides her sweatshirt back on. 

Penelope plops herself down on Hope’s bed next to the brown-haired siphoner and smirks. “Furball.”

“Furball,” Josie repeats matching Penelope’s smirk with a warm smile of her own. “God, that’s such a great nickname.”

“Right? And you’ve got no idea just how fitting it really is… Especially--” 

“After the eyes?” Josie asks, finishing Penelope’s sentence.

Penelope lets out a bit of a laugh and nods. “Yeah… The eyes. I forgot I wrote about that.” 

“You wrote about a lot.” 

“I did.” 

“And went through a lot too.” 

“Six years worth.” Penelope sighs as a wave of sheer exhaustion washes over her. She curls her body up into the space next to Josie, being extra cautious not to inflict any more damage as she does. 

And Josie, in turn, nuzzles herself even closer and wraps Penelope up into a comforting embrace. 

“There’s so much I want to ask you,” Josie says with a yawn. “But before we get into it, can we please just take a nap together first?”

Penelope nods, barely able to keep her own eyes open. “Of course.” 

“Good,” Josie replies. She leans down and plants a tender kiss on the top of Penelope’s head. 

“I love you.” Those three simple yet powerful words tumble out of Penelope’s lips with a newfound conviction that up until this very moment had felt almost unattainable. 

Somehow, regardless of the countless missteps and mistakes along the way, everything has fallen into place and for the first time in what seems like forever, Penelope is able to breathe easy knowing that Josie-- her Josie-- is safe within her arms.

“I love you too, Penelope Park.” Josie replies and Penelope swears she can feel that all too familiar smile sliding across Josie’s face with her words. “I love you too.” 

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 13:

“And I had a fear of forgiveness

(Said it from the beginning)

I was too proud to say I was wrong

(Said you'd always see me through)

All that time is gone, no more fearing control

I'm ready for the both of us now

But just know that I want you back

Just know that I want you back

Just know that I want you

I'll take the fall and the fault in us

I'll give you all the love I never gave before I left you”

-- Want You Back, HAIM

__________

“Wow.” 

Penelope’s eyes pop open at the sound of Hope’s voice. She sits up and cranes her neck backward just in time to spot Hope climbing through the attic window. 

“Wow?” Penelope asks. She stretches her arms and then cracks her neck from side to side. Falling asleep on the roof hadn’t been her original game plan. No. Far from it. 

But after aimlessly wandering the halls of the school for an hour or so, Penelope had somehow wound up in the one place where she knew she could find a little bit of peace and solitude. And once there, she found that she merely lacked the energy to go anywhere else. So Penelope gave up her fight against the ever-mounting exhaustion of the last few days, curled up with a leftover blanket and closed her eyes.

“Wow,” Hope echoes back and takes a seat next to Penelope.

“So I’m taking it that ‘wow’ is in response to you having read the copy of the journal I left for you?”

Hope nods. “Twice. Cover to cover.”

“Impressive.”

“Had some help with a Celeritas charm, but yeah… I read it twice.”

“And?” Penelope asks with a quirk of her brow.

“And… Wow.”

“You said that already,” Penelope responds.

“I know.” Hope exhales a long breath of air allowing a brief silence to fall between them. “I just… I just don’t know where to start.”

“Fair enough. It’s kinda a lot to process.”

“Kinda?”

Penelope can’t help but let a hint of a smile slip through at these words. “Okay. It’s a shit ton to process. Better?”

“Yes,” Hope replies, matching Penelope’s smile with one of her own. “Did we really take on a pack of rabid werewolves in the middle of the Louvre?”

“Technically it was in the courtyard of the Louvre, but yup... We did. Got a wicked scar behind my left from that one.”

“And Milan?”

“100% true too. It took a good three months for my left eyebrow to grow back but it all happened. Every last fiery moment of it.”

“Caroline’s really a badass, huh?”

“Badass doesn’t even begin to describe it. She’s the reason we survived Milan… and about a million and one other attacks too,” Penelope replies with an underlying bittersweet tone to her voice. 

“Do you miss her?” 

Penelope laughs as if the answer should be obvious. “More than I thought I would. But, weirdly enough, I have this gut feeling that I’ll see her again soon. Like either, I’ll just wind up on her doorstep again one day or she’ll just up and hunt me down. If that makes sense.”

Hope nods with a silent understanding. They sit side by sit for a moment or two, just existing in each other’s presence and the —

“Would it be strange if I said that I’m kinda jealous of my other self?”

“Jealous?” Penelope asks not fully following the Tribrid’s train of thought.

“Maybe jealous isn’t the right word.” Hope exhales and runs her hair over her ponytail. “More like envious? I don’t know… Reading about all those insane things we did, I couldn’t help but wish that I had gotten to experience them firsthand, you know?” 

“Who says they still can’t happen?”

Hope straightens up a bit at these words. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if the journal doesn’t work and history ends up repeating itself then my ass is going to be on the first flight I can grab to Belgium. And, as you already read, I can’t do it alone, so…”

“Are you asking me to go to Belgium with you, Penelope Park?” Hope asks.

Penelope instantly feels her cheeks redden and she shakes her head, in an attempt to downplay the significance of the moment. “No… I just meant… If things don’t…” 

Hope gives Penelope a playful nudge. “Count me in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Hope replies. “Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me, Park. So if you’re going to Belgium, then I am too… Especially if it means I get to wield a crossbow.”

“Deal.”

“Good.” Hope lets out a light laugh and leans her shoulder into Penelope’s. It’s a small gesture, but one that Penelope can’t help but find comforting nonetheless. It’s as if by reading the journal, Hope has somehow become yet even more infused with Penelope’s Hope than ever before. Almost to the point where distinguishing between the two is practically impossible.

“So you gave a copy of the journal to Josie, right?” Hope asks, breaking the silence once again.

“Yup. Hand-delivered it to Lizzie roughly three hours ago.” Penelope replies with a yawn.

“Wait…” Hope whips her head around and locks eyes with Penelope. A noticeable look of sheer horror washes over her face. “You gave the journal to Lizzie?!”

Penelope nods. “Yeah. I went to their dorm room and she’s the one that answered the door, so I--”

“Fuck,” Hope says, cutting Penelope off. She runs her hands over her auburn ponytail, trying her best to keep her ever-rising anxiety at bay. “What if she reads it?”

“So?”

“So? Do you know what’s in there?”

Penelope doesn’t mean to, but she lets out a laugh. “I would hope I know what’s in there. I mean I did live it… Besides, it’s not like Lizzie wasn’t going to find out one way or another.”

“Finding out second-hand tidbits from Josie and reading it word for word are two very different things, Park” Hope fires back. “Oh god, Madrid… Madrid is in there! How am I going to explain Madrid?”

“Breathe, Mikaelson,” Penelope responds with an underlying reassurance to her voice. “Josie’s going to read about Madrid as well, so you’re not the only one that’s going to have some major explaining to do.”

“Right…”

Another momentary silence falls between the two of them as they watch the first rays of the morning sun peek out from the horizon, then—

“So how long do you think it’ll take before Lizzie and Josie hunt you down?” 

Penelope shrugs. “Depends…” 

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on if they cheated like you did and used a Celeritas charm or not,” Penelope replies with a bit of a smirk.

“For the record, I didn’t cheat.” 

“Whatever you say, Furball.”

“I didn’t.” Hope crosses her arms in mild annoyance. “It was 800 pages. It would’ve taken me at least half a day to read it without any help.”

“Only half a day?” Penelope questions and Hope answers with a harder than usual knock to her shoulder.

“Hey! For the record, I--” Hope trails off as something in the distance catches her attention. She slowly rises to her feet as her face transforms into a look of pure and utter concern. 

“Hope?” Penelope asks. Her eyes follow Hope’s and instantly spots tiny black specks moving along the treeline at the edge of the forest.

“Is that…” 

“Yeah… Shit! It’s too soon. Triad isn’t supposed to be here for at least another few hours,” Penelope responds. She runs her hands through her messy raven locks as her mind begins to race. 

She ought to be prepared, but...

But there is no preparation. Not for what’s about to transpire.

“What do we do?” Hope asks, pulling her eyes away from the rapidly approaching tactical swat team and locking them in on Penelope. 

Penelope bites down on her bottom lips for a moment or two and then--

“C’mon… I’ve got an idea.”

__________

“Where are we going again?” Hope asks as she races to keep up the pace with Penelope. The two zig-zag their way through the chaotic sea of confused and panicked students, trying to get down the main staircase without taking anyone out in the process.

In the short matter of time from when they first spotted of Triad to them reaching the main entranceway, the whole school seemingly has been made aware of the incoming attack. 

It’s as if by magic… Or some divine intervention… Or maybe a hybrid of both. Penelope doesn’t have the time nor the energy to decipher who exactly alerted the whole school but is beyond thankful nonetheless. 

“To the basement. Long story, but there’s an anti-magic relic down there that needs to be destroyed and fast. If Triad reaches it first, then they will activate it and we’ll be powerless,” Penelope responds.

“Wait? Why is it down there in the first place?”

“I’ll give you one guess… He’s your pseudo sensei.” 

“Alric?”

“Bingo,” Penelope replies with a huff. 

“Why would he…”

“No time for explanations now.” Penelope and Hope reach the first-floor landing and start to round the corner. “I promise, I’ll--”

“Hope Marie Mikaelson!”

Lizzie’s voice slices through the steady sounds of the ongoing movement causing both Penelope and Hope to freeze dead in their tracks. They slowly turn around just in time to spot the blonde-haired siphoner marching towards them.

“Shit,” Penelope says under her breath. “Liz, this is the best time to--”

“Not now, Satan,” Lizzie cuts Penelope off as she closes the rest of the distance between herself and the two of them. She stops just inches in front of Hope, locking eyes with the Tribrid, and then, without any warning whatsoever, grabs hold of Hope’s cheeks and plants a kiss that is nothing short of life-changing upon her lips. 

Hope’s eyes widen with pure, unexpected shock. She tenses for a split second, unsure of how to react, before giving in to her instincts. Hope threads her hands through Lizzie’s platinum blonde hair, deepening their kiss as she does. This is a moment both Hope and Lizzie have been waiting for since the first time they laid eyes on one another.

And Penelope can’t help but smirk in satisfaction as she watches her best friend fall even harder than ever before in love with Lizzie Saltzman. It’s a moment she’s been secretly waiting to see play out ever since traveling back in time. 

Finally, Hope pulls back out of the kiss and smiles. “That was--.”

“Amazing,” Lizzie finishes Hope’s sentence with an exhale of air. Her face lights up as well, unable to take her eyes off of Hope.

“Yeah… That,” Hope responds still not fully recovered from the sheer shock of the kiss. 

“Ahem.” Penelope clears her throat subtly reminding them of her presence. “As much as I love seeing you two finally come to your senses and all, we’ve got more pressing matters to attend to.” 

“Satan’s right,” Lizzie chimes in causing yet another wave of shock to wash over Hope. “Josie went to go see if she could go track down that relic you mentioned in the journal in our dad’s office while I tracked you two down. We were going to set-up a protection barrier so those gun-toting freaks couldn’t bust in but we couldn’t siphon anything off of the walls.”

“Shit. That means Triad got to the relic,” Penelope replies with a huff of frustration.

“You read the whole journal?” Hope asks Lizzie, eyes growing even wider than ever before.

“Yes. Three times,” Lizzie responds without missing a beat. “And we’ll discuss Madrid later… And the nipple piercings.” 

And Hope just nods, still unable to find her words. 

“What relic?” Lizzie asks, turning her attention back towards Penelope.

“It’s some anti-magic relic that your dad has stashed in the basement. It’s been activated. That’s why you can’t siphon. We need to go destroy it asap in order to get our powers back.” 

“I know a back way into the basement so we can slip in without being detected.”  

“Good.” Penelope pauses for a moment and runs her hands through her raven locks, trying to dispel her growing sense of dread. 

Josie is already in Alric’s office. 

Alone. 

Unprotected.

It’s too close… Way too close for Penelope’s liking.

All it will take is for the wrong member of Triad to show up and--

“I’ll take Hope and we’ll handle the relic. You should go help Josie,” Lizzie says, almost reading Penelope’s thoughts. 

“But--”

“Go, Penelope.” And suddenly there’s a flash of an oddly reassuring look deep within Lizzie’s icy blue eyes. As if to say that on some level or another she gets it. 

“Okay,” Penelope says with a nod. 

“We’ll meet you there when we’re done.” Lizzie takes hold of Hope’s hand and then starts to drag the still dazed Tribrid back through the crowd of fleeing students. She gets all of three steps, though, before stopping once again to look back at Penelope. “Oh, and Park… If you let my sister get shot again, I’ll kill you myself.” 

“Got it.”

Lizzie gives Penelope a smile and then without another moment wasted, disappears into the sea of chaos with Hope trailing right behind her.

__________

Penelope makes it to Alric’s office in record time. She isn’t sure exactly how she manages to do it, but she’s there nonetheless in less than three minutes flat. 

There isn’t a Triad in sight and yet… 

Penelope wraps her hand around the door handle and takes a deep, sobering breath as her ears pick up on the unusual stillness of her surroundings. 

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

There aren’t even the muffled sounds of movement coming from the other side of the door.

Why is it so quiet?

Fear begins to bubble up in the back of Penelope’s throat and she fights the urge to scream out Josie’s name.

Is she too late? 

Has Triad already been here?

Penelope scans the hallway once again for signs-- any signs-- that the black fatigue clad operatives are nearby. But there’s nothing.

Nothing but the stillness.

Penelope takes a moment to swallow down the dry lump of long-repressed emotions and then with all the courage she can muster, she pushes open the office door. 

“Jo--” 

But before Penelope can finish uttering Josie’s name, she feels an object collide with the back of her skull, followed by a sharp pang of blinding pain, and then--

Blackness.

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 12

“My lover's got humour

She's the giggle at a funeral

Knows everybody's disapproval

I should've worshipped her sooner

If the heavens ever did speak

She's the last true mouthpiece

Every Sunday's getting more bleak

A fresh poison each week”

-- Take Me to Church, Hozier

__________

“Pen…? Pen? Are you in…” Hope trails off as she opens the door to Penelope’s dorm room and spots Penelope. The raven-haired girl lays on her barren mattress amongst the wreckage of her room passed out with a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels lying nearby. Under her head is the tattered yellow sweater, balled up into a make-shift pillow.

Hope lets out a sigh and in three long strides makes her way across the debris towards the mattress.

“Penelope Park,” Hope says as she reaches down and gives Penelope a firm shake on the shoulders. 

“Go away,” Penelope mumbles. She rolls away from Hope to face the wall and readjusts her grip on the sweater.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up.”

“Yeah. We’ve already been over that part.” Hope takes a seat down on the mattress. Her fingers trace over the frayed edges of the yellow sweater making a mental note of it. “Taking it that you found Lizzie?”

“She found me,” Penelope responds with a weighted sigh.

“And she had the sweater?”

“Oh… She had the sweater alright. She not only had it, but she also confronted me with it and then went and showed it to Josie.”

“Shit.”

“Yup,” Penelope says. She buries her head even further into the confines of the sweater, desperate to derive whatever traces of comfort she can from the now tainted object. 

“And how did Josie react?”

“How do you think she reacted?” Penelope cringes as soon as the sarcastic remark leaves her mouth. Hope is the last person on the face of the earth she means to lash out at but at the moment it’s all she can manage to do to combat the impending tidal wave of hopelessness from crashing down upon her. 

A silence settles between the two of them for a moment or two as Hope lies down next to Penelope on the mattress and stares up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Then--

“Okay… So what do we do next?”

Penelope rolls back over to face Hope unable to hide her sheer shock at the question. “What’d you mean next? There is no next. It’s over. Josie doesn’t want to be within fifty feet of me, let alone go on some impromptu road trip to New Orleans. And there’s no time. The attack is gonna happen in less than 36 hours from now… There’s nothing else to be done. I’ve failed. History is going to repeat itself.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I’m calling bullshit on your ‘there’s nothing else to be done’ Park.”

“It’s the truth,” Penelope huffs out in exasperation. 

“No, it’s you giving up,” Hope fires back without missing a beat. “And I’m not accepting it… Not this time. So I’m gonna ask you again… What’s our next move?” 

“I dunno.” Penelope exhales and joins Hope in staring up at the ceiling. She snakes her hands behind her head and as she does, her fingers catch on something sharp buried deep within the fabric. Curious, Penelope sits up and starts to rummage through the balled-up sweater.  

“What’s up?” Hope asks, picking up on Penelope’s behavior. 

“I think I felt--” Penelope trails off as she produces a folded up piece of paper from one of the pockets.

“A note? Who’s it from?” Hope sits up as well and leans over Penelope’s shoulder with sudden interest.

“Not sure.” Penelope carefully unfolds the paper and reveals a handwritten message. 

Dear Park,

I know you don’t need to be reminded of this, but just in case, remember that when all else fails, there’s always the truth. 

Love,

Mikaelson

Penelope stares at the note, silently re-reading the message to herself as her fingers trace over each and every word. 

Of course, only Hope-- Penelope’s Hope-- would find a way to reach her regardless of the circumstances. And just when she needs it the most too.  

“I give good advice,” Hope says bringing an instant smile to Penelope’s face. 

“Yeah…” Penelope folds back up the note. “You do.” 

“And I’m right, you know. About the truth. It’s always an option.”

“But--”

“But nothing, Park. What’s the worst that could happen by telling Josie the truth… The full truth? You said it yourself. That timeline doesn’t’ exist anymore. Or at least not fully. So what’s the harm in filling Josie in on everything?”

Penelope sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as she mulls over the mere idea of laying every last detail of the past six years out on the table for Josie. 

It’s not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind before. No. It was a common conversation topic between herself and Caroline whenever they would go down the rabbit hole of possible options beyond reversing the curse itself. But the truth-- the unabridged truth-- came with infinite risks. Some worse than others, but all risks nonetheless. And most, having something to do with Josie’s mental state. 

“There are risks with revealing that kind of level of personal knowledge-- even if it’s hypothetical-- on someone,” Penelope replies and Hope gives a defiant smirk in return.  

“You think Josie can’t handle the truth?” 

Penelope shrugs. “Possibly. Or… It could taint any future decisions that she will make… Or slowly drive her into insanity.” 

“Or… It could be a way to get through to her?”  

“Or it could be the way to get through to her,” Penelope mimicks Hope’s words with another sigh and a slight eye roll. She knows that the Tribrid could be right, but still-- 

Penelope’s fingers start to move towards her neck, but before she can make contact with the smooth skin, Hope grabs hold of her hand and stops her. 

“Nope. Not happening. Not on my watch,” Hope says pushing Penelope’s hand back down. 

“What?”

“We’re breaking you of that habit.”

“Hope, I--”

“No, Penelope. No more nervous tic… It’s not going to happen again, okay?” 

“You don’t know that…” Penelope swallows down the dry lump of emotions bubbling up within the back of her throat. 

“You’re right. I don’t,” Hope responds. She then leans into Penelope’s shoulder giving her a loving nudge. “But now that I know, I’m sure as hell gonna do everything in my power to prevent it from happening again.”

“Nice motivational speech, Furball.” Penelope nudges Hope back and the two exchange a smile.

“Eh… I try.” Hope then rises to her feet and starts to rummage around the nearby debris. 

“What are you looking for?” Penelope asks.

“This.” Hope surfaces with an old leather-bound journal. She tosses it down in front of Penelope onto the mattress.

“A partially used journal?” Penelope replies with a quirk of her brow. 

“No, Smartass. Watch.” Hope mutters an indecipherable phrase under her breath and points her fingers at the journal. It ignites in a brief warm amber glow before returning to its original state. “Now it’s a blank journal. And roughly from the size of it, it looks like it could hold six years worth of memories.”

“I can’t write out six years’ worth of memories… Do you know how long that would take?” 

“Not if you use a ditatum charm.” 

Penelope mulls over Hope’s response for a moment or two. 

Hope’s right. All Penelope would have to use is a ditatum charm on a pen coupled with a memoro spell on herself and she could have every last page of that journal filled out within the next four to five hours. 

But, still…

Even if she did choose to open a vein and let every last detail-- even the most horrendous ones-- pour out of her and onto the page, would  Josie actually take the time to read it? And more importantly… Would she even believe it?

“Okay… What’s the hesitation now?”

“No. I just--”

“Just what? Got a better plan?”

Penelope shakes her head with a sigh of defeat. “No, I don’t.”

Hope grabs a nearby pen off of the floor and then plops herself back down next to Penelope on the mattress. “Here.” 

“Now?”

Hope shrugs. “Why not? You said it yourself… Time is of the essence.”

Penelope takes the pen from Hope as a hint of a smile emerges upon her lips. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Hope replies matching Penelope smile with a smirk of her own. “And besides, how else am I gonna find out what on earth compelled me to get my nipples pierced.”

“Oh…  It’s a great story,” Penelope laughs.

“Good. Then get going, Park.” Hope gives a nod towards the journal for extra measure. “Cause I’m dying to read it.” 

__________ 

It had been five hours, thirty-eight minutes, and fifteen seconds since Penelope had first put pen to paper and began the arduous task of recounting the last six years worth of memories that had led her to this very moment in time. 

And, true to her word, Hope had stayed by her side through every single second of it. At first, wide awake and then somewhere in between the third and fourth hour passed out to the world on the other end of the mattress. 

At first, it had been painful. Like the reopening of old, partially healed wounds. But as Penelope had found her rhythm, the words flowed easier and easier, until all that was left was a dull ache for a life that no longer existed.  

In some ways it was cathartic. Reliving the last six years, memory by memory. Replaying every decision… every conversation… every last moment of heartache and utter desperation. And in other ways, it served as a sobering reminder that Penelope was no stranger to having her back up against a wall. 

No. 

She had survived the impossible time and time again. Even when every last card was stacked against her.

Penelope had survived. 

And she would survive this as well… Regardless of the outcome. 

Penelope finishes off the last sentence with a flourish of the pen and then lets out a much-needed sigh. Her eyes wander over to Hope as a warm smile stretches across her face. 

Somewhere over the course of the last two hours, the older girl has managed to curl herself up into a tight ball, with her legs tucked into her chest and her auburn hair spayed over her like a protective blanket. She couldn’t mimic a sleeping wolf pup more if even she tried. 

“Such a furball,” Penelope says to herself with a shake of her head. She reaches back behind her, grabs hold of her comforter, and then gently places it over Hope, trying her best not to wake her up in the process. And as she does, she can’t help but think back to one of her last conversations with the other version of Hope, back on the rooftop of their apartment. 

It’s still me.

One simple truth, that at the time, had felt like a bit of lip service. Something that Hope only said in order to ensure that Penelope went along with the game plan. 

But now…

Now, looking at Hope fast asleep beside her, Penelope realizes that those words were anything but lip service. 

They were yet another nugget of wisdom planted by the Tribrid in hopes that Penelope would be able to recall at just the right moment of need.  

Deep down inside, Hope is still Hope. Regardless of the timeline nor knowledge of what could potentially happen next.

And if Hope is still Hope then Josie… 

“Is still Josie,” Penelope finishes her thoughts out loud, unable to hold the words back. She smiles again as a sudden wave of reassurance washes over her. 

Yes, there may be a sizable risk handing over six years’ worth of memories in a single journal, but then again, it’s Josie Saltzman… And Josie, more than anyone else that Penelope has ever met, thrives on knowledge. Actionable knowledge to be more precise. 

Penelope runs her hands through her short messy locks and then, with one last look down at Hope, scopes up the journal and heads out of her dorm room.

__________

“Go away, Satan,” Lizzie says before she has even fully opened her dorm room door. 

“Wait--” Penelope juts her hand out, stopping Lizzie from slamming the door in her face. “I just need a minute. I swear… Please, Liz.”

“Don’t call me that,” Lizzie growls. She pushes harder against the door only causing Penelope to match her effort with the same stubborn-fueled brute force. It’s a stalemate and neither one of them is planning on backing down anytime soon.

Penelope lets out a frustrated sigh and then locks eyes with Lizzie. “Look. I’m not calling you Liz cause I want to mess with you… Okay, maybe I was at first, but… It’s not like that. In my timeline, you go by Liz. Or at least used to.”

“Used to?” Lizzie quirks her brow in slight confusion. 

“Here.” Penelope hands over the journal to Lizzie. “It’s meant for Josie, but you should read it as well. It explains everything. The sweater… Why I’ve been acting so strange… Even why I call you Liz. It’s all in there. All six years worth.” 

“Six years?”

“Yeah. Six years,” Penelope replies never once taking her eyes off of Lizzie. 

“That means… You’re from the future?” Lizzie’s voice goes a little higher than usual on the last word as if it’s too far-fetched of a possibility to even say, let alone believe.

“Not exactly… More like a potential future… Or what could’ve been a potential future. It’s kinda hard to explain.” 

The look of utter confusion only deepens on Lizzie’s face. Penelope watches as her icy blue eyes ping-pong back and forth between the journal and Penelope, desperate for some sort of clarity. 

“I… I don’t…” Lizzie trails off as her eyes wander back down upon the journal. 

“I know,” Penelope replies with an understanding nod. “I don’t expect you to understand… At least not fully until you read that.” 

Lizzie continues to stare at the journal in her hands, not even acknowledging Penelope’s words and Penelope knows that she’s more than said enough. No further explanation is needed. On some level or another Lizzie gets it. 

And if Lizzie gets it…

Then Josie will too.

“Just promise me you’ll make sure that Josie reads it… Okay?” Lizzie gives a slight nod still fixated on the journal and Penelope lets out a much-needed sigh of relief. 

It isn’t quite as reassuring as handing the journal directly over to Josie herself. No. But it’s the next best thing. If anyone is going to make sure that Josie stops everything and reads it cover to cover, it will be Lizzie. 

Penelope releases the door and then starts to walk away when-- 

“Can I ask you something?”

The simple question compounded by the raw vulnerability in Lizzie’s voice, causing Penelope to freeze in her tracks. She slowly turns around and once again locks eyes with the blonde siphoner as a smirk slides across her face. “You’re about to ask me about Mikaelson, aren’t you?”

“What?” Lizzie replies as her eyes instantly double in size from the sheer shock. 

“Mikaelson. You want to know if the two of you end up getting together?”

“I… It’s not… I just…” Lizzie fumbles through her words as her cheeks flush with a noticeable reddish hue.

And Penelope can’t help but let a laugh slip out. “Breathe, Blondie. It’s okay. Mikaelson literally asked me the same exact question just a few hours ago.”

Lizzie starts to fidget with the journal, flipping it back and forth from hand and hand. “She did?”

“Oh yeah. Furball totally did.”

“Furball?”

“Long story but yeah it’s my nickname for Hope… It’ll make much more sense when you get a little beyond the halfway point in that thing.” Penelope punctuates her comment by motioning towards the journal. “Right after our stint in Berlin.” 

“Right… Berlin,” Lizzie responds, still sounding utterly lost. 

“Listen, I’m going to tell you the same thing that I told Mikaelson when she asked. If you had had the chance in my timeline then you guys would’ve been together in a heartbeat. But you both waited too long… So don’t make that same mistake. If you want to be with her, then be with her,” Penelope says. She tries to push forward a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and Lizzie picks up on it. 

“Thanks, Satan.” 

“For what?”

“Honesty. Surprisingly enough, it’s a good look on you.”

“Well, as I told your sister, I’m all about turning over a new leaf these days,” Penelope responds. “I’m serious. Make sure she reads that. As soon as possible, okay?”

Lizzie nods, wrapping her hands a little bit tighter around the journal. “Okay.” 

With that, Penelope turns around again and takes off down the hallway unsure of where to go next. 

There’s nothing left for her to do but to wait.

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 19: Raven (V)

Raven stirs awake with the memory of Octavia still lingering on her skin. She rolls over, craving more, only to realize that she’s alone. 

The bed is empty.

Octavia is nowhere to be found.

Raven should be concerned. Deep down inside she knows it. But the leftover euphoria from last night’s events overpowers all other logical thoughts. A small smile slides across her lips as she takes a moment to relish in it.

This hadn’t been her first time.

No.

Her first time had unfortunately been with Finn. In the backseat of his father’s Audi after one of their standard Friday night dates. 

Which, in retrospect, wasn’t even an actual date, to begin with. Finn’s idea of a date meant meeting up with their usual crew at Dave and Buster's for a few hours of Street Fighter and overpriced wings. Then, if she was lucky, they would swing by 7-11 for Sluprees before being dropped back home. 

The whole encounter lasted only five minutes at most, including the time it took for them to semi-undress and for Finn to figure out how to put a condom on. 

It had been at best awkward, slightly painful, and the farthest thing from enjoyable. 

And yet, she had agreed to do it again... 

And again... 

More out of obligation than anything else. 

Because that’s what they were supposed to do. 

Or, at least, that’s what Raven thought…

Until that kiss with Echo.

The kiss that had pried her eyes wide open and revealed the real reason behind why she never felt quite satisfied with Finn. 

No. 

This hadn’t been her first time having sex. 

Far from it.

But… 

It had been a first. 

Of so many things.

Raven’s smile widens as her mind plays through the memories of last night. 

The first taste of peppermint chapstick, Octavia’s signature flavor.

The first feather-light touch of familiar fingertips, tracing invisible paths along the slope of her collarbone.

The first sensation of pleasure-driven flames, setting her every inch of her very being on fire.

The first time she has truly felt loved.

And that’s it. 

What’s been missing all along.

Love. 

Raven lets out a light sigh of content and then peels the covers back from her body and slides out of bed. She grabs a random balled-up sweatshirt from the floor, instantly recognizing it to be one of Bellamy’s. 

The sweatshirt had been a souvenir from the spring break trip Bellamy had taken with Jake last year to Athens Greece. A token reminder of just how geeky the raven-haired manchild truly was underneath his charmingly handsome exterior. He wore that sweatshirt religiously for a good six months, even when the weather didn’t call for it. Until the day it disappeared. 

Bellamy had sworn that Clarke had stolen it. Even went as far as ransacking her room, which resulted in one of their most epic fights to date. It was so bad that even Abby had had to intervene, grounding both Bellamy and Clarke for a month when all was said and done. 

But Raven had known better.

Clarke hadn’t taken the sweatshirt. 

It was Octavia. 

She had been 99.9% sure of it. 

Octavia was always taking Bellamy’s clothes. Never enough, though, for him to notice. Just a t-shirt here and there. Or sometimes a pair of basketball shorts or an old pair of jeans. And she always put them back after a while so that no one ever was to grow too suspicious.

Raven slips the sweatshirt on and instantly is overwhelmed by the comforting scent of sandalwood and vanilla. 

“Octavia,” Raven whispers like a prayer. She buries her hands into the front pocket of the sweatshirt and then takes a long, hard look around, not quite sure what to do next. 

Going back to bed would be the most logical move, especially given that Raven can feel the throws of an epic hangover just on the horizon. But she already knows that sleep won’t come easy. Not without Octavia.

So instead, Raven continues to wander around the bedroom, casually taking in every last detail. At first glance, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. At least not to the average onlooker. A typical teenaged chaotic mess of dirty clothes, unopened textbooks, and an array of other items haphazardly strewn about.

But Raven is anything but the average onlooker. She sees beyond the ordinary teenaged facade and recognizes the elements around Octavia’s room for what they truly are… 

Traces of a person.

A person that Raven has seen flashes of before but hasn’t yet to fully meet in the flesh. 

The person that Octavia is meant to be.

Raven makes a round of the room and then starts to head back towards the bed when something catches her eye. A lone DVD box. It sticks out, halfway buried amongst the mess of books and papers on Octavia’s desk. It wouldn’t be so strange except for the fact that she knows that there isn’t a DVD player to found in all of the Griffins' house. 

Raven moves closer to get a better look. She brushes away a few stray papers and suddenly the realization blindsides her, causing her heart to swell to insurmountable levels.

It’s a copy of Just One of the Boys.

The exact movie they had been watching during that infamous afternoon in the Griffins’ basement two summers ago. The afternoon where their friendship first started to morph into something more… Something undefined and unknown.

Raven lovingly traces over the title letter by letter as her mind lingers within the memories of the moment. 

She doesn’t need to ask the reason behind why this specific DVD just happens to be sitting on Octavia’s desk. Raven already knows. It’s the same exact reason why she didn’t hesitate or second guess the events of last night.

A look of sudden inspiration crosses Raven’s face. She grabs a nearby pen, pops open the DVD, and then scribbles a message on the insert inside. Raven takes a minute to reread her handiwork before closing the case once again and tucking it safely back into the mess of papers. 

PING.

PING.

PING.

The three distinct pings cut through the early morning silence of the bedroom, instantly grabbing hold of Raven’s full attention. She moves back towards the bed, scoops up her phone, and swipes the screen. And suddenly…

The comforting sensation of utter contentment that Raven’s been basking in slowly transforms into one of gut-churning confusion.

Monty: Hey! Are you up? I’m still at Murphy’s and Octavia just showed back up. She and Finn are getting into it. 

Monty: Shit. It’s turning ugly. Real ugly. I don’t know what to do. Murphy’s passed out and Jasper took off to go get more beer an hour ago. 

Monty: Rae? Please say you’re up. You need to get over here RIGHT NOW! 

“Shit,” Raven exhales. She fires off a text back and then with a sudden sense of urgency starts to search for her clothes.

__________

There it is again.

The sharp twinge of flames. Like a red hot poker jabbing over and over again into the already tender flesh of her lower back. 

Raven tries to shift her position but it’s of little use. The flames of pain continue to radiate outwards from her back, extending down until the point on her upper thighs where all sensations simply cease to exist. 

There’s no fight against it. 

That much she’s certain of. 

Raven’s been attempting to stave off the pain for well over the last hour or so now. Experimenting with a variety of remedies in hopes that at least one of them will provide her with a brief respite. But so far, nothing has seemed to work. 

Raven’s eyes wander over towards the red button resting against the side of the hospital bed. It taunts her with its ease and simplicity. 

One push and no more pain. 

That’s all she needs to do.

But…

Raven swallows the dry lump residing in the back of her throat and shifts again. Another sharp pang explodes against the length of her spine bringing an instant set of tears to her eyes. Raven inhales, slow and steady. 

It’s getting worse. 

She needs to push the button. 

But if Raven pushes it, she might as well kiss her clarity goodbye. 

Morphine comes with a price. 

Sometimes less and sometimes more, but there’s always a price to pay.

The first time Raven learned this lesson was when she was ten years old. Three broken ribs, a fractured radius, and a half-dozen gashes across her chest and back. That’s what it took. She had been living with the constant pain for two full days until she finally had broken down and told Clarke the truth. 

Raven doesn’t remember much after that first shot of Morphine. It had come as a surprise, hidden amongst the countless rounds of poking and prodding by nurses and doctors. Each one asking the same painstakingly hard questions over and over again until she couldn’t answer them any more.

Raven had spent the better half of a week lost deep within a Morphine haze as the world around her played out in peculiar, dream-like snippets. There was no sense of time nor place. Just moments. Each one jumbled and out of order as if someone-- or something-- was wreaking havoc within the confines of her brain.

And coming off of the Morphine had been nothing short of a journey through hell as well. With sudden bouts of excruciating pain and physical anguish that no adult-- let alone a child-- should ever have to suffer through.

She should press the button.

But Raven simply can’t bring herself to do it. Not when she more than knows the pay she’ll pay for it.

Raven pulls the hospital sheet up over the button so it’s out of sight and then lets out a slight sigh of relief. She shuts her eyes and forces in on her breathing as a momentary calmness washes over the room. 

All she can do is breathe. 

A few seconds pass and then--

CLICK.

The sound of the hospital door shutting cuts through the silence, bringing Raven back into the present. Her eyes pop back open and lock in on a set of familiar hazel eyes staring right back at her. And, without any warning, Raven’s stomach plummets to the floor. 

Anya.

Anya Woods. 

The woman that she has called home for the last three years.

“Hey,” Raven says breaking the silence.

But no words come in return. Instead, Anya stands there, back against the hospital door, with her unreadable mask secured upon her face. She stares at Raven, never once breaking eye contact not even to blink. It’s intense and yet in a strange way comforting. 

Raven goes to prop herself up and instantly grimaces as a flash of white-hot pain sears across her body. She falls back into the confines of the pillow with an audible thud. 

“Fuck…” Raven exhales, blinking away a stray tear or two then looks back over at Anya to discover two matching sets of tears carving a path down her cheeks as well. “Anh.”

Anya drops her head down at the mention of her name and suddenly Raven wishes more than anything that she could get out of her bed. The distance between them, although trivial in actual length, is beyond suffocating. It lays heavy and dense, encompassing everything in its wake.  

“Anya,” Raven says with a bit more softness to her voice. 

And then she waits again. 

If the last few years with the dirty blonde has taught Raven anything, it’s that no good will come from rushing. 

Anya needs time. Time and patience.

Now more than ever before.

Another twinge of pain shoots through her back like a sudden jolt of electricity. She grits her teeth as her eyes roam over to where the red button is hiding. The temptation is brutal at best. But she can’t give in. 

No.

Not when there’s a conversation just on the horizon that they’ve been dancing around for well over the last year.

Raven needs to be lucid.

If not for her sake then for Anya’s.

“You died.” 

Those two words slice through the silence and hit Raven dead on, momentarily dulling the unrelenting pangs of pain radiating throughout her body. So simple and yet so powerful. 

Raven blinks as her mind scrambles to recall the fragments of memories from the aftermath of the crash. But there’s nothing there. Just blank swaths of lost time as if someone has gone and haphazardly erased bits and pieces.

And yet, Raven still knows it’s the truth. Even if the memories are nowhere to be found. She can feel it, deep within her bones. 

“I know,” Raven responds.

“Twice,” Anya says and Raven nods. “In the ambulance. I was there. I wasn’t supposed to be, but I fought them on it and they gave in. I watched them shock you back to life, twice.” 

“Anh..” 

“I almost killed you.” Tears fall harder from Anya’s hazel eyes, fast and unrelenting. 

And all Raven can do is helplessly watch from the confines of her bed as Anya finally caves to her pent-up emotions, bound in place by the invisible threads of pain. “Anh, it’s okay. Please… Come here.”

Anya shakes her head. “I almost killed you, Raven.”

“I know, but--”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know. I… I fucked up. I fucked up so badly and it almost…”

“But it didn’t.” Raven blinks again, ignoring yet another white-hot spasm. “I’m here. See? I’m here and I’m okay.” 

“You’re not.” 

“Anh…”

“You’re not okay.” Anya motions around the room as she begins to spiral down the rabbit hole of long-buried thoughts. “This is not okay… We’re not…” 

Anya doesn't need to finish the sentence. Raven already knows what word should come next. 

Raven licks her lips and nods again, this time, with nothing but raw honesty within her eyes. “No, Ahn. We’re not okay. We haven’t been for a very long time.” 

And the floodgates finally burst open, turning Anya’s steady stream of tears into full-blown sobs. “Raven, I--”

“Anya Woods, get your ass over here now.” 

Anya pulls herself away from the confines of the doorway and makes her way across the room as she continues to give in to the gut-wrenching sobs. She curls up into Raven’s open arms and the Latina engulfs her in a soothing embrace. 

It’s not an ending nor a reconciliation. Nor any other definable type of moment. 

It’s just a release. Like a deep breath of air that, up until this very moment, neither one of them has realized they have been holding on to.

Moments pass by and ever so slowly the sobs start to taper off until only a few stray tears remain. Raven runs her hands through Anya’s hair, gently stroking the dirty blonde curls like she used to do years ago back when they first started dating. 

“I’m so sorry,” Anya whispers against Raven’s side.

“I know. I am too.” 

“I never meant for this to happen… Not to you.” Anya buries herself deeper and the flames of pain once again radiate their up and down Raven’s back. But she ignores it. 

This…

This moment is just too important to be interrupted by something so trivial as pain. Raven has been living with some variance of pain all of her life. 

A few more moments of it now won’t kill her.

“I know you didn’t… But it did.” Raven licks her lips and exhales, pushing the pain out through her mouth. “And it could’ve been so much worse.” 

Silence again. 

And Raven waits. She continues to run her fingers through the dirty blonde curls, allowing the simple action to speak for her. Words are not what Anya needs… Not now.

“I wasn’t drunk.”

Raven nods as her fingers maintain their pace. Steady and reassuring.

“I wasn’t… I had had a few drinks earlier. Just to help me try and sleep, but… But I wasn’t drunk. I swear. I…” Anya trails off and wraps her arm tighter around Raven, like a little child clutching to their security blanket. 

And in that moment, it clicks. That’s the real crux of their relationship. 

Security.

They had been each other’s security during a time when everything else in their world was nothing more than unreliable.  

But now… 

Now they need to learn how to operate without the security of a safety net. And if they fall, they fall. 

Because although security is a form of love, it’s not the right type of love. At least not for either one of them.

“Anh…” Raven starts but is cut off by yet another fiery lash of pain. It jolts through every inch of her body, stronger than ever beyond. Almost blinding in its raw power. 

“Rae?” Anya lifts her head in sudden concern. “Rae? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...” Raven replies through gritted teeth and swallows back down the aftershocks. “Just sore. That’s all.” 

“God, I’m so sorry… I promise, once we get out of here, I’ll cut back. No more drinking on weekdays. Or by myself. And I’ll get some help too. Maybe try that counseling that Miller recommended. I know I said I would do it months ago, but this time I will for real. Promise.” 

Raven nods but can’t bring herself to respond. The pain, both physical and emotional, is too much to bear. She inhales a deep breath as she fights with every ounce of strength she has left to main calm and lucid. 

But the siren song of morphine grows louder by the second.

“Anh,” Raven pauses to lick her lips again as she takes a moment to mull over her next words. She needs to choose them wisely. Pick the wrong ones and Anya will shut down or even worse… 

“You don’t believe me… Do you?” Anya says with a sudden look of disbelief.

“I do…” Raven responds.

“But, you don’t.” Anya suddenly peels herself off of Raven and stands back up as her inner panic and fear take over. “You don’t believe me at all. You never do.”

Another lash of fire. 

Raven can’t help but give in to the muscle spasm as her body silently screams for relief.

“I believe you, but--” 

“But you don’t! You think I’m just giving you lip service again. Like last time.” 

Beads of sweat start to form along Raven’s hairline. She grits her teeth and then shoves back down yet another tidal wave of pain.

Time isn’t on her side.

“Anh… You need help.” 

“I know. I said I’m gonna get it.” 

“No. I mean real help.” 

Anya stares at Raven for a moment or two as she lets the meaning of those words sink all the way in. “I don’t need rehab.” 

Raven remains silent but not by choice. The flames have all but rendered her useless. They dance their way across her nerves, engulfing everything in a blaze of white, hot pain. 

She can’t fight it anymore. 

It’s too much.

Raven grabs hold of the red button and slams her thumb down on it. 

“Rae?” 

Raven wants to respond, but her words are long gone. Instead, she closes her eyes and waits for the familiar relief from a long-forgotten friend. 

1… 2… 3… 

“Rae? What’s wrong?” 

But nothing. 

The flames grow higher.

4… 5… 6… 

“Raven!”

Raven jabs the button again, more desperate than ever before.

7… 8… 9…

“Raven! Shit! Talk to me!” 

Raven tries to take a deep breath, but it’s too late. The flames have already reached her lungs. 

“Help! Please! Somebody!” 

And then the world around Raven fades to white as she finally gives in to the fire and let it consume her whole.

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 11

“But nothing is better, sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

Let's just let it go

Let me let you go

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that”

-- When the Party’s Over, Billie Eilish

__________

“Okay, so it’s definitely not Kaleb,” Hope says with a strong exhale of air as she sits down next to Penelope on the main hall staircase a short while later. 

Penelope stops twirling the paperback copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and looks over at Hope. “You sure?” 

“1000%. I had to spend a good thirty minutes explaining what a cardigan even was to him… Any luck with Pedro?”

“Nope. The boy hasn’t heard anything. Promised to keep his eyes and ears peeled, though, just in case.”

“And you trust he won’t mention that we’re looking for it?” Hope asks with a quirk of her brow.

“Yup. His lips are sealed. Bribed him with half a dozen comic books and fifty bucks,” Penelope offers up. 

“Comic books?” 

“MG. Told him I needed them as collateral.” Penelope pauses for a moment to run her hands through her messy locks and tucks a few loose strands behind her ears. “Promised I’d replace them as soon as I could. Just add that to things I need to do if we survive the next few days.”

“Have you ever even stepped foot in a comic book store?”

“What’d you think?” Penelope replies.

“I think MG might as well kiss those comics goodbye,” Hope says with a light laugh. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Furball.” Penelope starts to twirl the book once again, channeling all of her pent up anxiety and nerves into the mundane action. “Also talked with Raf, Jed, Emma, and that pack of freshman witches that like to follow me around. Nothing from any of them.”

“Who’s left?” Hope asks in earnest which only causes Penelope to answer with a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ look. “What?”

“I’ll give you two guesses.”

“Fuck.” Hopes slumps down further onto the steps as the realization hits her dead on. “You don’t think…”

“No clue… I mean it’s possible. But it’s also possible that a 6th-century possessed gargoyle did it as well. So who knows?”

“Not possible.”

“Huh?”

“The gargoyle. It’s not possible. They can be enchanted but can’t outright perform magic on their own. So it’s not a gargoyle.”

Penelope gives a hard roll of her eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“You’re the one that brought up a gargoyle, not me.”

“I was being facetious, Hope,” Penelope fires back with a slightly heightened level of annoyance. Hope senses the tension radiating off of Penelope and without another word, wraps her arm around the raven-haired girl. 

“Hey. I told you already. We’ll find the sweater, okay?” 

“What if it’s Josie?” The question hanging in the air between them for a moment or two, neither one quite ready to fully embrace that reality. 

“Or it could be Lizzie,” Hope says back with a shrug. “It’s a fifty fifty, right?” 

“Liz I can deal with, but Josie…” Penelope trails off as her fingers drift upwards towards her neck. 

“Then we’ll divide and conquer. You take Lizzie and I’ll take Josie.” Hope glances down at her watch. “It’s almost 8 pm now. Best place to start is their dorm room. I can head there now while you check the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?” 

A noticeable blush spreads across Hope’s cheeks. “Lizzie usually likes to grab a bag of those kettle chips that Alaric stocks in the pantry before heading up to bed.”

The tension slightly dissipates from Penelope as she can’t help but laugh. “Stalker much?”

“Not a stalker,” Hope says, regaining her composure. “I’ve just run into her while grabbing a late-night snack for myself once or twice before. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Penelope hums unconvincingly.

Now it’s Hope’s turn to roll her eyes. She unwraps herself from Penelope, giving her a hard but playful shove in the shoulder as she does and then rises to her feet. “God, are you always this annoying?” 

Penelope doesn’t respond. Instead, she rises up as well and flashes Hope one of her trademark smirks. “Meet back here in thirty?”

“Thirty it is,” Hope starts to head up the staircase, but suddenly stops halfway. “And don’t go and do anything stupid, Park. Cause I’m not quite in the mood to save your ass tonight.” 

“I make no promises, Mikaelson.”

__________

Penelope aimlessly wanders down the desolate hallway lost within her own sea of thoughts. 

There had been no signs of Lizzie-- no anyone else for the matter-- in kitchen. Nor the dining hall. Or even the secret teachers’ pantry that no one is supposed to know about. 

Not a soul to be found anywhere.

But that’s what’s to be expected late on a Sunday evening at the Salvatore School. A dead quiet campus. Students tucked away within their dorms, either already fast asleep or in the process of going to bed. 

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

And that’s what makes Penelope’s skin crawl.

It’s too normal.

Like an eerie stillness before a storm.

“Hello, Satan,” Lizzie’s voice cuts through the silence sending an instant set of chills running down Penelope’s spine. She stops dead in her tracks and slowly turns around to find Lizzie standing at the other end of the hallway. The blonde-haired siphoner locks eyes with Penelope as her face contorts into a sick smirk of satisfaction.

And then, Penelope sees it.  

The yellow sweater.

Josie’s yellow sweater. 

It dangles limp and lifeless from Lizzie’s hand, almost irreconcilable in the darken, moonlit shadows except for its Salvatore School patch partway peeling off of the threadbare fabric.  

“Missing something?” Lizzie asks raising the sweater ever so slightly as she does. A wave of gut-churning fear crashes down upon Penelope, causing her legs to wobble. She swallows dryly and desperately tries to hold onto her emotionless composure as Lizzie slowly makes her way closer.

“Liz, I can--” 

“Explain?” Lizzie cuts Penelope off, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, I’m dying to hear it. Especially the part where you explain exactly how you wound up in possession of what looks to be my sister’s sweater when I know for a fact that it’s in our dorm room right now on the back of Josie’s desk chair.”

“It’s not her sweater.” The lie flows freely from Penelope’s lips without hesitation and yet she knows right away that it isn’t enough to convince Lizzie. 

“Nice try,” Lizzie replies. “Actually, I take that back. It’s a horrible try. Do you think I’m an idiot? Her name is written right here on the tag.”

Lizzie flips the sweater over and holds up the tag for Penelope to see, but it’s not needed. Penelope has long since burned those five black scrawled out letters into her memory. 

“So we’re going to try this one more time. What are you doing with my sister’s sweater?”

“Liz, it’s not what you think.”

“Ha!” Liz takes another step forward, causing Penelope to counter with her own step backward. “There. You did it again. You called me Liz. Talk about waving a gigantic red flag. I knew something was off from the very first moment you called me Liz. But no… Everyone said I was overreacting and being paranoid. That there was nothing unusual about it.” 

“You know you’re monologuing, right?” Penelope says trying to defuse the growingly dangerous situation. She knows she’s once again playing with fire, but sarcastic remarks have always been her fallback. The last resort of sorts for whenever things aren’t looking so hot.

“Shut up!” Lizzie shouts with a burst of anger. Penelope takes yet another step backward in caution, eyes never leaving Lizzie. 

Not even for the slightest of milliseconds. 

Josie might’ve almost killed her, but Lizzie…

Lizzie is the real Saltzman twin to watch out for. 

Although Penelope never had the opportunity to witness her in action firsthand, the tales were more than enough to paint a picture of what the fair-haired Saltzman could potentially do if provoked. 

“Please…” Penelope pauses for a moment as her eyes brief dart away from Lizzie and towards the sweater. “Just give me the sweater and I promise I’ll explain everything.” 

“Yeah. Don’t think so, Park.” Lizzie inches closer and Penelope notices how her hand clenches even harder around the yellow fabric, almost to the point of disintegration. It’s another telltale warning. One that Penelope can’t help but fixate on.

Can Lizzie siphon from the sweater?  

No.

Not possible. 

It’s just a sweater. 

There isn’t an ounce of magical energy within it and yet…

The question still lingers with Penelope. Ever present and nagging.

“Who are you?” The single question comes out as a growl and Penelope grits her teeth as another, more powerful set of chills run rampant throughout the length of her body.  

“I’m Penelope.”

“Eh’nt! Wrong answer.”

“I am. I swear.”

“You want to know how I know you’re lying?” Lizzie responds, eyeing narrowing down with laser-like focus. “The sweater told me so.” 

“What?”

“Did I stutter? The sweater.”

Penelope shakes her head trying desperately to follow along. “But how? I don’t…”

“Oh wow… I think this is a first. Finally, there’s something that the all-power Penelope Park doesn’t know,” Lizzie replies. “I used an aetate charm mixed in with a super dose of whatever magic I siphoned from your room, which by the way, was off the charts. I haven’t had a rush like that since I accidentally siphoned off of my great aunt Gladys during Thanksgiving dinner. She was a notoriously powerful witch in our coven and let’s just say after siphoning from her I was able to levitate my dad’s Land Rover for like a month.” 

Lizzie pauses for a moment, getting lost within the memory and Penelope takes the opportunity to quickly glance behind her at the library doorway. 

Only 20 feet away.

She could make a run for it and maybe track down Hope… 

Or MG… 

Or anyone else that could help her defuse Lizzie. 

“Don’t you even dare think about it,” Lizzie says and Penelope whips her attention back around to the blonde-haired siphoner. “Now where was I? Oh right… The sweater. The funniest thing happened when I used the aetate charm. It revealed that this sweater was somehow ten years old. Which is impossible because I know for a fact that my sister bought this sweater only four years ago. So which brings me back to my question… Who are you and what is this?”

“I told you already… I’m Penelope Park. And that is Josie’s sweater.” Penelope holds her breath upon these words, as an unsettling silence falls between the two of them. She studies the icy blue eyes staring back at her and suddenly wishes that she had paid more attention to all of those times that Caroline had tried to teach her the art of mind compulsion. 

“Gelida.”

The curse hits Penelope before she has time to even process the word that Lizzie has just uttered. Every muscle in her body instantly locks, frozen by an invisible force. Penelope can’t move an inch, let alone even blink. 

All she can do is breathe.

Lizzie inches forward as a look of puzzlement crossed over her face. “Okay. Now I know for sure you aren’t Penelope. The real Penelope would’ve seen that coming from a mile away. Hell, even Pedro would’ve.” 

Penelope rages against the curse with every ounce of strength she has in her, beyond desperate to respond. But the curse wins out. She’s paralyzed. 

“If you won’t tell me the truth, then let's see what you have to say to Josie and my dad,” Lizzie says. She gives Penelope one last look before turning on her heels and taking off down the hallway.

And all Penelope can do is watch in frozen silence, as wave after wave of the dreaded impending doom slowly drowns her.

__________ 

“Pen?” 

Penelope’s eyes pop open at the distinct sound of Josie’s voice. It's been well over an hour since Lizzie left her and all that she’s managed to regain control over so far is her eyelids and her left pinky finger. 

“Penelope?” The voice grows closer and Penelope once again fights against the invisible force that is holding her hostage within her own body. She screams out internally, desperate to answer, but no sound emerges. 

“Pen? Where are-- Oh my god! Pen?!” Josie rounds the corner of the hallway and finally comes into view. Penelope’s eyes light up and she blinks rapidly. It isn’t much, but it’s enough for Josie to instantly understand.

Josie places her hand on the nearby wall. “Regelo!”

Penelope collapses against the hardwood floor with a thud. She slowly rolls over onto her side as a long groan escapes her lips. Everything hurts. 

“Pen! Are you alright?” Josie rushes over and crouches down next to the raven-haired girl. Penelope nods as she takes a moment to recompose herself.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” Penelope replies. She pushes herself up into a sitting position and cracks her neck. “Just insanely sore.” 

“What happened? Who did this to you?” 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Pen…” 

“It doesn’t.” Penelope shakes her head. “How’d you know where to find me?”

“Lizzie. She burst into our room ranting and raving that you weren’t the real you but some sort of demon and that she had trapped you in the downstairs hallway. I sorta ran out on her after that, but she threw this at me as I was leaving.” Josie pauses for a moment and pulls out the yellow sweater from the pocket of her sweatshirt. “She said she found it in your room? It looks like my sweater, but… but it can’t be. This one’s all torn up and destroyed… Pen, what is this?”

Penelope stares at the sweater as her mind races for something-- anything-- to say. 

“Penelope?” Josie asks again and the underlying quiver to her voice slices through Penelope like a white-hot knife. 

Penelope closes her eyes and then swallows back down the rising lump of emotions in the back of her throat. “It’s yours.” 

“What?”

“It’s your sweater.” 

“But… I don’t… How?” 

“Because it is.” 

It’s not an answer. 

It’s a deflection.

And a vague one a best.

Josie deserves more. An actual explanation as to why the sweater exists and its origins. 

But revealing the truth-- even the vaguest of tidbits-- is nothing short of opening Pandora’s box. 

A risk that Penelope isn’t willing to take. Especially not when she knows the potential horrors that can come from it. 

“You promised you wouldn’t lie to me,” Josie says and Penelope feels the emotional blade cut even deeper. 

“I know.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

“I can’t…” Penelope replies in nothing more than a whisper and as soon as the words leave her lips, she knows that they are the final two nails in the coffin. 

But there’s no other choice.

Josie’s chocolate brown eyes burn into Penelope’s skin as the silence of the desolate hallway once again all but engulf them. And all Penelope can do is focus on the yellow sweater on the ground before her. 

Her once most beloved possession now turned Achilles heel.

“Then we’re done.” 

The words hang heavy in the air, reverberating in the space around Penelope. She shuts her eyes in an effort to hold back the forthcoming tears and gives the tiniest of nods in understanding.

Footsteps soon follow, growing fainter and fainter until finally disappearing altogether back into the darkness. 

Penelope doesn’t need to open her eyes to confirm what her heart already knows. Josie is gone. 

And this time, it’s for good. 

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 18: O (V)

It’s gone.

The lone realization pops into Octavia’s mind like a crimson red flare blazing through a darkened sky, ripping her straight out of her dreamless slumber. Her eyes pop open, and for the briefest of moments, she forgets that she isn’t alone. 

But then a gentle wave of overwhelming warmth engulfs Octavia, reminding her of the beautiful Latina that is currently asleep beside her.

Raven Reyes.

She slept with Raven Reyes.

And now…

Now, for the first time, in what seems like forever, it’s gone. That dull, gnawing sensation. The ever-present itch that resides just beneath the surface of her skin that can’t be scratched. 

It’s the “It”.

The one that Octavia dares not to speak about with anyone-- not even Clarke-- in fears of the strange looks and questions it might bring about. 

But now it’s nowhere to be found. 

Octavia ever-so-gently extracts herself from Raven’s arms and then pushes herself up in the bed. She runs her hands through her mess of hair, quickly scooping it up into a makeshift bun and secures it in place with a spare hair tie. 

Has Raven been the answer to it all along?

No.

It can’t be that simple.

But what if it is?

Raven.

Octavia sighs and glances over at Raven as a small smile of content slides across her lips. She lets her fingers ghost against the older girl’s flawless caramel-colored skin, and a barrage of thoughts flood her mind.

What now?

What will happen once Raven wakes up?

Will she regret last night?

Or even worse…

Will she wake up and act as if it never happened at all?

Octavia blinks away a stray tear as she attempts to push that last thought back down into the dark recesses of her consciousness.

The distinct sound of the front door opening and then moments later shutting cuts through the stillness of the night, grabbing Octavia’s attention. She listens in carefully as a chorus of familiar footsteps make their way up the stairs and pass right by her bedroom door. They come to an abrupt stop seconds later at which Octavia can only assume is the bedroom one door down and across the hallway from hers.

Clarke’s room.

But Clarke shouldn’t be home. 

It’s too early.

She always goes back to Lexa’s house.

At least until the morning when Clarke and Lexa stumble back here to pick up her and Raven for breakfast. Or sometimes, if they’ve been at it call night, then it’s just a text saying when and where to meet up.

But never in the dead of night.

Something isn’t right.  

Octavia peels the covers back and then slides out of bed, careful not to disturb Raven as she does. It isn’t until she reaches the hallway does she realize that she’s only clad her sports bra and her boxer briefs. Not that it matters. Clarke’s seen her in much less thousands of times before, and yet still, Octavia pauses. 

Maybe she should go back and get clothes?

Something that she normally would wear to bed…

Something a little less conspicuous? 

Would Clarke even notice?

Probably not.

If it isn’t involving Lexa or Raven, then Clarke rarely ever notices. 

Or only seems to notice after the fact.

Like last year, when Octavia was unfairly targeted by their biology teacher Dr. Pike. Clarke had been all but oblivious to the ongoing issue even though the signs were right in front of her face. And Octavia would’ve have continued to suffer in silence, accepting the unwarranted bad grades and random detentions, it hadn’t been for their dad intervening. 

Their dad and of course…

Raven.

Raven had been the one to tip Jake off as to what was really transpiring. Even though both swore that it wasn’t the case. That Jake had simply figured it out for himself. 

But Octavia knew better. 

Jake had known about the incident in class. The one where Octavia had been forced to stand in front of everyone and defend her essay on whether gender constructs were primarily defined by nature or by society. It had been not short of a 45-minute public interrogation. One that she had willingly endured without once losing her cool. And yet, in the end, it had still resulted in her failing the assignment. 

And the only person who had known about it, besides those who had witnessed it firsthand, had been Raven. 

Because Raven always notices.

Always.  

Octavia shakes her head, bringing her barrelling train of thoughts to yet another crashing halt. She gently nudges the bedroom door open and instantly spots Clarke, curled up in a ball on top of her bed. 

“Clarke?” Octavia says with nothing more than a whisper. But all that responds is the faint sound of crying. 

Octavia hesitates for a brief moment, not quite sure what to do next, and then slowly inches her way into Clarke’s room. She crawls onto the bed, next to Clarke, wrapping her arms around her older sister. “What’s wrong?”

But still no words. The tears continue to fall, steady and unrelenting, wetting Octavia’s hands. 

“Clarke, please…” Octavia tries her best to hide the quiver in her voice, but it’s of no use. She suddenly feels as if she’s that eight-year-old again, scared and terrified. Hiding in the back of Jake and Abby’s closet refusing to go to her mother’s funeral. 

Clarke had been the one that had come and found her that day, opting to stay in the closet with her until she mustered up the courage to re-emerge and face her new reality. 

“Finn.” The single word seems to echo throughout the room, instantly causing Octavia’s blood to boil. She doesn’t need to know any further details. Not when it comes to that douchebag of a human being. Octavia can paint an accurate enough picture with just his name and Clarke’s current emotional state.

“Where’s Lexa?” Octavia follows up.

“I don’t know.”

Octavia starts to gnaw on her bottom lip as the next logical question bubbles to the surface of her thoughts. It’s a question that needs to be asked. She knows it. And yet…

And yet Octavia isn’t quite sure she is prepared to hear the answer.

“Did he…” Octavia pauses as she swallows back down the lump of building emotions in the back of her throat. “Did he hurt you?”

Tears turn into full-blown sobs. Octavia wraps her arms tighter, fighting the urge to cry herself as a wave of helplessness crashes down upon her. She can feel the undiluted rage bubbling up within every inch of her body, threatening to burst forth at any given moment. 

And suddenly, all other thoughts that have been plaguing Octavia’s mind over the last few hours seem to dissipate into thin air. Leaving one-- and only one-- thought left for her to fixate in on.

Finn.

Finn Fucking Collins.

He needs to pay for all the damage that he’s caused…

No matter what.

__________

Breathe.

In through the nose and out through the mouth.

Again.

And again.

Just how Indra had taught them to do during their Krav Maga training sessions. 

Breathe in.

1… 2… 3… 4… 

And then out.

If they can focus on maintaining their breathing, then the rest of their body will naturally follow suit.

It’s the only trick that seems to work whenever O starts to feel the tell-tale signs of the “it” re-emerging. 

O exhales another deep, cleansing breath, letting the ambient sounds of the outdoor hospital courtyard wash over them. Its utter stillness is warm and comforting like they remember Abby and Jake’s bedroom closet being all those years ago. This is another one of their go-to hiding spots. Time and time again. They find themselves drawn to this particular courtyard. Their own personal sanctuary amongst the continuing chaos and uncertainty that those four walls always seemed to bring to their life. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” Clarke says as she emerges from the doorway and makes her way through the courtyard. O doesn’t respond, but simply scoots over on the wooden bench, making room for Clarke to sit down next to them. Clarke lets out a sigh and then runs her hands through her messy blonde locks. “Surprised more people don’t come out here. It’s way better than that atrium off of the lobby.”

“It’s the location. The atrium is cross from the gift shop. Everyone visits the gift shop. No one really visits the meditation lounge,” O replies motioning to the small sign of a person sitting cross-legged through the doorway.

“Good point. How’d you figure that one out?”

O shrugs. “One too many hours spent here.”

“Seriously…” Clarke says under her breath in agreement. O looks over at Clarke and quirks their head at this response causing Clarke to second guess her words. “What?”

“Nothing. I just wasn’t expecting that. Thought you loved this place since you’re in med school and all.”

Clarke lets out a harsh laugh. “Love this place? Not even close. Most days I can’t stand it.” 

O’s brow furrows in confusion. “If you can’t stand it, then why are you interning here?” 

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Clarke shakes her head. “Stupid, right? I honestly have no clue why. I picked pre-med cause that’s what I thought I was supposed to do. Or at least according to Abby I was. And then after undergrad comes med school, so I just went with it because--”

“It was easy,” O finishes Clarke’s thought with a nod of their own. 

“Yeah. Way easier than having to take the time to figure out what I really want.” 

“I get that.” 

“Okay my turn for a question,” Clarke says, giving O a nudge in the shoulder as she does. “Why’d you drop out of college?”

“I dunno,” O mumbles. They awkwardly start to fidget, drawing circles in the gravel below with their beat-up Converse sneakers. They can feel Clarke’s warm blue eyes upon them, patiently waiting, but can’t seem to be for the life of themselves to look up and match them. 

It’s Clarke. 

By all accounts, their older sister. 

One of the few, steady constants in their life that will be there for them, regardless of the situation or how badly they fuck things up.

But what if the truth is too much?

What if she doesn’t understand?

Their relationship hasn’t been the best for quite a while now. Definitely not since their dad died… and, if they’re honest, it was strained long before that.  

O had watched as their once bursting-with-life sister, faded away into nothing more than a shell of a person but had never done anything about it. Nor even had brought it up. Talking about it would have meant running the risk of addressing all the elephants hiding in the room and that… 

That was too terrifying for words.

“Is it the same reason you and Lincoln broke up?” Clarke asks, causing O to shrink even further into themselves. O offers up the tiniest of shrugs and continues to draw circles with the toes of their shoes. “Is it cause you’re non-binary?”

The question lingers in the space between them, heavy and foreboding. 

There it is. 

The truth. 

Stripped down and bare.

The core of all of their continuous struggles and never-ending issues.

Clarke knows?

But how? 

“Hey…” O feels the weight of Clarke’s hand press down upon the top of their thigh and then gives it a reassuring squeeze. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?”

O stops with the circles. Uncontrollable tears whelm up in the corners of their eyes as their internal dam finally crumbles, letting loose a tidal wave of long-repressed emotions. They slowly look up to find a familiar set of teary blue eyes staring back at them. 

And before O can manage to their find their words, Clarke engulfs them in a bone-crushing hug. They melt, fully embracing the long-forgotten sense of security and safety that only Clarke could provide them with. The tears fall harder, and O does nothing to stop it. 

It’s been a long time coming.   

Too long.

Clarke lovingly strokes the top of O’s head and then runs her fingers over the stubble, drawing soothing circles as she does. “I really did mean it when I said I liked this.”

O sniffs back their tears. “You did?” 

“Of course I did,” Clarke smiles through tears of her own. “You look… I don’t know… You look more like you. If that makes any sense.”

“It does.” O smiles back. “It’s still all kinda new, but I’m working on it.”

“Well, as dad used to say, we’re all a work in progress, right?” Clarke takes a moment to wipe away the tears from her eyes and O nods. “So… Let’s do this.”

“Do what?”

“Talk. You and me. And no holding back either. Nothing is off-limits. Tell me everything.” 

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. I’m so freakin’ done with the not talking,” Clarke responds with a laugh. “And I promise, no judgments, okay? I love you, no matter what.” 

“Okay.” O’s smile grows infinitely larger upon these words. 

“Good. Now let’s start with the basics. Pronouns. They/them?”

“Yeah… But I get it if that’s too hard to--”

“Stop,” Clarke says, cutting her off. “It’s not hard at all… Done. What else? Are you binding?” 

O shakes their head. “No, but I’ve looked into it. Just don’t have the cash right now to buy a decent one.”

“Then it sounds like you and I have a shopping trip in our near future.”

“Clarke…”

“What? I bought you your first bra, didn’t I? I get the honor of buying you your first binder,” Clarke replies. “Unless you want Abby to take you?”

O instantly tenses up. “God, no.”

“Does she know?” 

“No,” O responds as their teeth sink into their bottom lip. “Not really. I haven’t said anything to her. Raven did mention something about not calling me “she” when she came to check in on her, but I don’t think she put two and two together…”

“Knowing Abby, she definitely didn’t… You’re going to need to flat out tell her face-to-face.”

O sighs with impending dread. 

Clarke’s right.

But deep down inside they already knew that. 

When it comes to their mom, there’s no avoiding the inevitable. Everything that doesn’t align perfectly with her own vision of what they should and shouldn’t be doing with their life results in a verbal knockdown, drag-out fight.

Acceptance just isn’t a word that easily fits within Abby’s vocabulary… 

“I’ll do it with you.”

“What?”

“Talk to Abby,” Clarke replies. “I’ll come with you.” 

“You will?” And O can’t help but sound like they’re ten years old, voice cracking with a sliver of hopefulness.

“Of course. No one deserves to face Abby alone.” Clarke rises off of the bench and then offers her hand to O. 

“What? Like now?” O asks. They take Clarke’s hand in slight confusion.

Clarke shrugs and runs her hands through her hair once again with a determined exhale of air. “Why not? Apparently, today is national rip the band-aid off day, so we might as well.”

With that, Clarke starts to walk back towards the doorway, leaving O no other choice but to follow suit.

__________

“This is a bad idea,” O blurts out. They stop short at the sight of the ominous set of tall wooden doors only a few feet away from them, and their eyes can’t help but fixate on the single name embossed in bold black letters. 

Dr. Abigail Griffin, Chief of Medicine.  

“Absolutely,” Clarke replies as she joins O in front of the office doors. “But there’s no alternative.”

“I could always pull a Bellamy and write her an email.”

Clarke shoots O a more than skeptical look. “An email? O, do you remember how Abby reacted to that? She tried to get Marcus to use his connections with the governor to get Bellamy’s passport revoked.” 

“Right…” O sighs in resignation. “No emails.”

“Definitely no emails.”

“What about--”

“O…” Clarke gently grabs hold of O’s arm, snapping their attention away from the door. “We’re doing this. You and me. Okay? No more avoiding.” 

O nods, in response, unable to find their words, and then with a sudden burst of confidence reaches forward and knocks on the office door. They wait in the awkwardly painful silence for a moment or two for a sign-- any sign-- that they’re welcome to proceed, but nothing ever comes.

“Maybe we should come back? Maybe she’s not--”

“She’s there,” Clarke cuts her off with an exhale of air. “Post- lunch, Abby always spends at least 45 minutes in her office catching up on emails. Unless there’s a major surgery scheduled. And I already checked with Jackson earlier. He said there’s nothing on the board for today, so she’s in there. Abby lives and dies by her routine.”

O nods again, and without any further hesitation, Clarke reaches for the doorknob and pushes the door open to the office. 

And just as Clarke predicted, Abby is sitting there, behind her behemoth of a desk, so deeply engrossed in whatever is on her computer screen that she doesn’t seem to notice that she is no longer alone. 

“Jackson, I told you, I need another good 30 minutes. So tell Richards he can--” Abby says, never once looking up.

“Mom,” Clarke says as she and O make their way fully into the office. “It’s us.”

Startled, Abby stops reading and finally glances up. “Clarke? Octavia? What are you girls doing here? I thought I told Harper to get you all set up in the residents’ lounge?”

O visibly flinches at these words. 

There it is again.

Their full name. Every last syllable of it.  

But is it really their name anymore? 

Or is it just another relic from a former life that no longer fits?

And the misgendering as well. 

Like a dash of salt to an already agitated wound.

“Okay, A. we’re not twelve, so there’s no need to set us up with anything,” Clarke says, already unable to hide the annoyance in her voice. 

“Clarke…”

“And B. It’s O. Clarke and O. Not Clarke and Octavia.”

Abby gives a poignant eye roll and then pinches the bridge of her nose for added effect. “I don’t have time for a game of semantics. If your sister wants to be called only by her nickname, then--”

“It’s not a nickname,” O interrupts, stopping Abby dead in her tracks. “It’s… It’s my name. O. Not Octavia.” 

O feels Clarke’s hand silently slip into theirs and gives it a reassuring squeeze of encouragement. They take a deep breath and swallow down the lump of uncertainty rising within their throat. “And I’d prefer it if you didn’t use she or her when referring to me.”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to use?” Abby fires back. “He/him?”

“No. They/them.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Abby scoffs, and O feels a second, more predominant squeeze from Clarke.

“Abby…” Clarke growls.

“Don’t ‘Abby’ me, Clarke. I’ve more than humored the countless acts of rebellion that both of you girls have put me--”

“Are you even listening? They just asked you not to use female pronouns.”

“I heard that.”

“That includes the terms ‘girls’ too, Mom.” 

“Jesus.” Abby lets out another exasperated sigh. “I’m not doing this. Not here. Not today. If you want to sit down and talk like grown adults, then I’m more than happy to do schedule some time for all of us to chat this weekend at home.”

“Schedule some time? Do you even hear yourself?”

Now it’s O’s turn to squeeze Clarke’s hand. They can see the tell-tale warning signs from a mile away. One or two more verbal jabs and a nuclear implosion of epic portions is all but guaranteed. 

And as much as their heart is bursting at the moment with undiluted love and admiration for their older sister, they know that nothing good will come from continuing to hammer home this point. But Clarke is notoriously stubborn… Especially when it comes to anything remotely involving Abby.

“Clarke… Just drop it,” O pleads under her breath, but Clarke pretends not to hear it. 

“Clarke Abigail Griffin. You are treading on very thin ice, young lady. If your father was--” 

“Was what? Alive? If dad were alive, he sure as hell wouldn’t be suggesting that we ‘schedule time’ to talk. In fact, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation to begin with. He would’ve just gotten it. Like he always did with everything.”

“That’s a pretty bold assumption, even by your standards,” Abby replies, words dripping with sarcasm. “You don’t even have the first clue what your father would or wouldn’t have accepted--” 

“Dad knew,” O blurts out, give both Clarke and Abby an instant case of whiplash. They stare at them, each one wearing a similar look of sheer puzzlement.

“He knew?” Clarke asks, eyes searching O’s for any inkling of an answer. 

O nods as a hint of a smile appears upon their face. “Yeah. We never really talked about it. Not in specifics or anything. But he knew. Dad stopped calling me Octavia two years before he passed.” 

Clarke matches O’s smile with one of her own. “He knew.” 

Blindsided with the sudden overwhelming urge to fill in the blanks even further for their sister, O goes to open their mouth, but before they can even utter another single word, the office door bursts open.

“Dr. Griffin!” Jackson shouts, frantic and slightly out of breath.

“Jackson?” Abby questions as her whole demeanor instantly flips into chief mode. 

“We’ve been trying to reach you,” Jackson glances over towards Clarke and O and then back at Abby. “We need you. Now. Room 315 just coded.”

Room 315.

The number slices through O’s soul, leaving a path of invisible destruction in its wake.

It’s Raven’s room.

Abby springs up from her desk and without a moment’s hesitation, bolt for the door with Jackson right on her heels.

“O…” Clarke says, with a voice suddenly filled with dread and fear.

“It’s Raven.”

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 10

“But I never stopped or gave up

I couldn't ever let you go

'Cause in the end, I was innocent, I was innocent

I let you know that it's no good

But you could never say it first

I know you're hurt

Tell me how you feel, tell me how you feel

Cause I got something to tell you, but I don't know why

It's so hard to let you know that we're not seeing eye to eye

Because I know if I tell you that everything's alright

Oh, we could stay in this moment, I'd never say goodbye

Oh, I'll never say goodbye”

-- Something to Tell You, HAIM

__________

“New Orleans?” Penelope asks as she crosses the threshold of Hope’s dorm room a short while later. She flops herself down on the bed, falling face-first into the mound of covers. 

“New Orleans,” Hope responds following close behind. She shuts her dorm room door and then collapses on to the bed next to Penelope.

“We’re not actually going to New Orleans, right?”

“We can if we want to.”

Penelope lifts her head up and looks over at Hope with confusion. “Wait. So you were telling the truth back there?” 

“Sorta. There isn’t any gathering going on. I totally pulled that part out of my ass, but I do have a standing invite with my Aunt Freya.”

“How long would it take us to get there?”

“Ten hours if we don’t stop.” Hope pauses for a moment, catching sight of the skepticism written all over Penelope’s face. “Okay. Or more like fifteen.”

“We should book a hotel somewhere near the halfway point just in case.”

“Already done,” Hope replies. “Made a reservation for three rooms at a hotel near Pensacola.”

“Three?” 

“Yeah. One for MG. One for you and Josie. And one for Lizzie and me,” Hope races through the last part of her sentence with a rushed exhale of air and Penelope can’t help but laugh.

“What was that, Mikaelson?”

“You heard me,” Hope says as a deep reddish hue spreads across her cheeks.

“I think I heard you say that you booked a hotel room for you and Lizzie to share.”

“I don’t know… Or she can share with MG if she wants to.”

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Okay, for starters, MG has a snowball’s chance in hell with Lizzie. It’s never going to happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Really? I don’t know?” Penelope throws the question back at Hope with a quirk of her brow and know-it-all smirk. 

“God, I hate you.” Hope retaliates with a playful elbow to Penelope’s ribs. 

“Nice try, Mikaelson. But no you don’t,” Penelope elbows her back in the same exact spot causing both of them to laugh in unison.

And as they do, Penelope is hit with yet another wave of deja vu. It’s subtler than the last few episodes, but the underlying feeling is all the same nonetheless. As if for a brief moment the world is back to where it was… or where it could be six years from now depending on how certain events unfold.

Hope had been right after all.

That regardless of the situation nor timeline, Hope underneath it all is still her Hope. The same exact one that she spent countless hours playfully bickering with over trivial matters. The one that would be there no matter what. Through thick and thin. 

Her Hope.

Penelope’s laughter transforms into a distinct chuckle of realization as the irony of Hope’s name hits her dead on.

“What now, Park?” Hope asks, picking up on the change in Penelope’s laughter. 

“Nothing,” Penelope pushes herself back up into a sitting position on the bed and gives a small shake of her head. “It’s stupid.”

“More stupid than me practically begging Lizzie Saltman to come along for an impromptu road trip to my aunts’ house?” 

“Practically? Oh no… You flat out begged her. In front of everyone too. Thank god MG is absolutely clueless when it comes to picking up on stuff like that.” 

Hope bites down on her lip and closes her eyes as another noticeable wave of embarrassment washes over her. “It was that obvious, huh?”

Penelope shrugs. “Not any more than you usually are when you’re around Lizzie.” 

Hope grabs a nearby throw pillow and smacks Penelope with it.

“Hey!” 

“You’re supposed to reassure me and tell me I wasn’t obvious at all.”

“Okay. You weren’t obvious at all,” Penelope responds in a fake, monotone voice. “Better?”

“Ass.”

Penelope lets out a laugh once again. “Mikaelson, you’ve got nothing to stress about. Didn’t you hear what Lizzie said? The fortune-teller told her that her soulmate likes raw meat, wears a leather jacket, and has amber-colored eyes. She literally was describing you.”

“But I don’t have amber eyes…” Hope trails off as she already knows what Penelope’s reply is going to be.

“Not yet, Furball,” Penelope says with another, even cockier smirk.

“Again, so freakin’ weird.” Hope lets out a light groan. “Do I even want to know why my eyes are amber?”

Penelope shakes her head. “Nope.” 

“Good. Then I’m just going to try and bury that piece of info--”

BEEP.

BEEP.

BEEP.

Hope is suddenly cut off mid-sentence by a painfully loud beeping sound. It overtakes the room, drowning out all other ambient noises.

“Shit.” Penelope springs up to her feet and rolls up the sleeve to her shirt to reveal a blinking red bracelet. Her eyes grow wide with fear as she stares down at it. 

“What the hell is that?” Hope asks in complete and utter confusion.

“Someone’s broken into my room,” Penelope replies and then before Hope can even react, she wrenches the door open and takes off at a breakneck speed down the hallway. 

__________

It usually takes Penelope at least a good ten minutes to cover the distance between Hope’s dorm room and her own. Seven if she opts to take the shortcut through the younger students’ dorm corridor. 

But this time, Penelope does it in under five.

Five minutes and change since when the alarm first sounded and yet…

It doesn’t matter.

The damage is already done.

Penelope slowly pushes open her dorm room door to discover that her room as been completely and utterly ransacked. A mixture of books, papers, and clothes are haphazardly strewn about like a layer of abnormal confetti, blanketing every inch of floor and overturned furniture. Nothing-- absolutely nothing-- has been left untouched.

Penelope stares blankly at the chaos before her unable to yet fully process the extent of the destruction. 

Who?

How?

Why?

Those three questions cycle through Penelope’s mind on an endless loop, each one flashing in big bold letters each and every time they appear. 

She had been so careful…

Or had she?

If Caroline or Hope were here, they would’ve begged to differ, lecturing her on the thousands of ways she could’ve been more attentive to her surroundings. More guarded. More… Just more of everything. 

But they weren’t. 

She was left to complete this mission alone and without any reasonable amount of time to do so either. 

So she’s done the best that she could…

Or has she?

A sudden tsunami of self-doubt and paranoia crashes down upon Penelope, all but knocking the air right out of her lungs. She grips the door frame in order to remain upright as her eyes continue to scan over what remains of her room. 

“Pen, why the hell did you… Holy shit!” Hope exclaims as she joins Penelope in the doorway and gets her first good look at the destruction. “What happened to your room?”

“I don’t know,” Penelope replies still wading her way through the initial shock of it all. 

She blinks once. And then again. But nothing changes. 

It’s real.

Hope gently pushes past Penelope and then carefully enter the room. Penelope follows suit, making sure to shut the door behind her as she does. 

“I don’t get it,” Hope says as she does a slow 360, trying to take in every last detail. “Who would do this?”

“I don’t know,” Penelope repeats her words and runs her hands through her hair, desperate at the moment for any sort of comfort whatsoever.

“How did you even know someone was in your room in the first place?”

Penelope rolls up her sleeve, revealing the thin golden bracelet dangling from her wrist and then extends her arm towards Hope so that the Tribrid can get a better look. “It’s a warning charm. I placed it in my room in case… in case something like this were to happen. That was the beeping sound you heard. The bracelet is set to go off as soon as the boundaries are broken.” 

“Boundaries?” Hope asks as she examines the bracelet.

Penelope nods. “Yeah. For example, It won’t go off if someone just happens to enter my room. But if they attempt to do anything out of the ordinary, like cast a spell or--”

“Or trash it?” 

“Or trash it,” Penelope mimics Hope’s phrase, trying to swallow down the raw lump of emotions building up in the back of her throat. “Yes, then the bracelet will instantly go off.”

“That’s genius. Did you come up with this?”

“No… You did.” Penelope slowly starts to move around the room as well, careful not to cause even further damage to any of her belongings. Her mind races a mile a minute, flipping through the endless possibilities of who-- or what-- could be behind such a calculated attack. 

This isn’t the first time she’s experienced this kind of out of the blue sort of ransacking. No. During that first year out in the real world when Hope and she had started ruffling some real feathers amongst the magical creature community, it had been a regular occurrence. So much so, that Penelope had learned over time to stash her most valuable possessions in a secret compartment within her room rather than keeping them out where anyone could find and destroy them. 

In fact, it’s why Hope created the bracelet system in the first place. 

One too many break-ins.

One too many irreplaceable items lost.

“I still don’t get it,” Hope says as she picks up a half-torn notebook and looks it over. “Why would someone do this? No one, besides me knows the truth, right?”

Penelope shakes her head. Her mind picks up speed, trying to fit the seemingly odd pieces of the puzzle before her together. 

“And you’re sure that no one else came back with you? Like some random demon stowaway?”

“No. I’m positive,” Penelope replies. Her fingers absentmindedly move upwards towards her neck and trace over the scar that’s no longer there. “The spell was quite clear. One being per talisman.”

“Okay…” Hope trails off as she furrows her brow, deep in thought. “What about items? Did you bring anything back that would be of value to someone else? Like a relic or journal?”

Penelope shakes her head again. “Too risky. The only thing I took with me was… Fuck.”

The yellow sweater.

Josie’s yellow sweater.

The one that bears an extensive collection of rips and faded stains from her six years’ worth of fighting to survive. 

Penelope bolts across the room towards her overturned bed. She shoves it aside, drops her hands and knees, and then starts to carefully run her fingers along the cracks in the wooden floor.   

“Park?” Hope asks, watching Penelope with confusion.

“No… No… No…” Penelope’s fingers catch on a seemingly inconspicuous hole and then pries open a loose floorboard to reveal a hidden compartment. But the yellow sweater-- Josie’s sweater-- is nowhere to be found. 

“SHIT!” Penelope yells. She falls back onto her knees and stares at the empty space in dreaded disbelief. 

“Pen, what’s wrong?”  

“It’s gone. Fuck! It can’t be gone!” Penelope’s fingers rub harder against the smooth flesh of her neck, desperate for even the tiniest of hints that there was once an actual scar there. 

No. 

No. 

No.

The sweater can’t be gone. 

It’s her constant. Her singular anchor to a world and a life that no longer exists. 

It can’t be gone. 

“Penelope!” The harsh tone of Hope’s voice snaps Penelope straight out of her thoughts and back into the moment. She freezes mid-stroke of her skin as her eyes slowly wander upwards to meet Hope’s. “Talk to me.”

Penelope goes to open her mouth, but her words fail her. She swallows again as the hot sting of fresh tears burns their way down her cheeks. 

It can’t be gone. 

“Pen?” Hope moves closer to the raven-haired girl and without a moment’s hesitation, gently hooks her arm under Penelope’s and helps her to her feet. “What’s wrong?” 

“Everything.” The word effortlessly tumbles out of Penelope through the steady streams causing Hope to instantaneously wrap her up into a reassuring hug. And Penelope melts. She lets the tears flow, not making any effort whatsoever to stop them. There’s no point. 

Not anymore.

“Let’s start with the basics,” Hope pulls back out of the hug and locks eyes once again with Penelope. Penelope nods and sniffles back the tears. “Good. What was hidden in there?”

“A sweater.”

“Okay…” Hope says trying to follow along. “And safe to assume it held some sort of importance?”

“It was Josie’s yellow sweater.”

Hope’s eyes grow wide with sudden understanding. “Oh…”

“Yeah,” Penelope exhales. “I took it with me when I left Salvatore the last go around. And--��� 

“And you brought it back with you?”

“Yup.” 

“Why?”

“Because I’m a fucking idiot, that’s why. And now it’s gone… which means it’s in the hands of someone who will quickly figure out that it’s not from this timeline and then… and then…” Penelope trails off getting lost in her own thoughts. Once again her hands shoot back up towards her neck. 

Hope studies Penelope for a moment or two, watching the seemingly benign motion with a peaked curiosity, then--

“What’s wrong with your neck?”

“Huh?” Penelope stops, suddenly thrown off-guard. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Hope…”

“No. You’re lying and we both know it. You’ve been compulsively touching the same spot on your neck for the last three days now. Every single time whenever you’re stressed or anxious about something related to Josie. It’s clearly a coping mechanism or tick of some sort, which leads me to believe that something bad happened… Or is going to happen… Or… I don’t fucking know. But whatever it is, it involves Josie in some way. So, just spit it out already and we’ll deal with it. Whatever it is. We’ll figure it out.”

“No, we won’t,” Penelope fires back as the second wave of tears starts to build back up within her eyes. 

“You don’t know that.”

Penelope lets out a harsh laugh and runs her hands through her hair. “Jesus, Hope. For the thousandth time already. Yes, I do.”

“Tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“Pen, I can handle it. Just tell me.”

Penelope swallows down the monstrous lump of emotions residing in the back of her throat and then takes a moment to blink away her tears. Then, she locks eyes with Hope and releases a breath of air that up until this very moment, she didn’t realize she was holding on to. 

“She kills Lizzie.”

And with those words, time suddenly comes to a crashing halt. Hope stares blankly at Penelope as her eyes seem to cycle through a mixture of varying emotions at a rapid-fire pace. Confusion. Grief. Anger. Fear. Each one hitting Penelope dead on with an all too familiar gut-churning sensation. She’s seen each and every last one of those emotions before and knows all too well what could potentially come next once the real gravity of her words has had the time to fully sink in.

“What?” Hope asks finally breaking the silence.

“Josie kills Lizzie.”

“During the merge?”

“No. She kills her long before that.” Penelope shakes her head as she desperately fights to hold back her tears. 

“Why?”

“Because Josie-- future Josie-- is the most feared and sadistic magical entity in all of existence.” 

This is the part that she’s been dreading the most. 

Ever since returning.

The part where inevitably Penelope must rip off the proverbial band-aid and reveal the cold, harsh truth of the potential events to come. 

“Josie? I… I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Penelope exhales a shaky breath of air and then takes a seat on the nearby desk chair. She needs to sit down for this. There’s no other way to get through it. 

“It starts with the attack at the school. The one that’s about to happen. I wasn’t here for it the first go around, but from your recounts of it, Josie gets gravely injured with a bullet tainted with the goo from Malivore. You’re able to save her with your blood and everything seems to go back to normal, until roughly six months later when Josie starts to dive deep into the realms of dark magic. That’s why you originally hunt down Caroline and I in Paris.” Penelope pauses for a moment as Hope slowly slumped down against the overturned dresser. She doesn’t need an explanation to know what’s transpiring within the Tribrid’s mind. The look on her face says it all. Hope’s too lost within her own thoughts for words. 

“Unfortunately, though, we don’t realize just how far gone Josie is until it’s too late.”

“Lizzie?”

Penelope nods. “Yeah. That was the tipping point. Josie got wind that she had located one of the relics needed to complete the counter curse for the merge, tracked her down, destroy the relic and then murdered her in cold blood.” 

“Were we… Were we there?” Hope’s voice quivers as she utters the question out loud.

“No. We didn’t keep in regular contact with everyone else, except for the occasional update phone calls from Alaric or your aunt Freya. It was easier that way. It allowed us to do what we needed to do without running the risk of being tracked down… We didn’t even know that Liz knew about the counter curse, let alone was hunting down the relics needed until afterward… If we would’ve known, we would’ve…” Penelope trails off yet again as her finger dance along the smooth skin of her neck. 

“It’s Josie, isn’t it? The reason behind why you keep touching your neck like that? She did something to you.”

Penelope tries to nod again but finds even that simple of tasks to be too much at the moment as the floodgates release and the raw memories associated with her scar crash down upon her. “When we found out the real truth behind Liz’s death, you decided to take Josie on yourself. Caroline and I tried to stop you, but of course, you wouldn’t listen. You never do… By the time I managed to catch up with you, it was almost too late. She was seconds away from killing you as well, so I did the one thing I could think of doing… I intervened and took Josie head-on with everything I had.”

“You fought Josie?”

“Yeah. I did. And it… It wasn’t pretty. I could’ve done better but, like always, I let my emotions get in the way and she managed to get the upper hand.” Penelope swallows as her skin ignites with phantom pains from the memory of it all. “She slit my throat with a knife and then up and disappeared. I would’ve died right then and there if it hadn’t been for you. You were able to reverse time on the knife thanks in part to a spell that Caroline had taught us so I didn’t completely bleed out, but it did leave me with… With a scar.”

Penelope holds her breath as she waits for the enviable follow-up questions, but instead is met with only silence. She closes her eyes as her tears pick back up, freely carving out two new paths down the lengths of her cheeks. 

It’s not like it’s the first time she’s had to recount the events of that infamous night. No. She has done it at least twice before. Once, for Caroline the morning after and then a few weeks later for both Alaric and Freya during a rare, in-person visit. 

In both of those instances, though, the damage had already been done. And Penelope had had the lovely six-inch souvenir that stretched across the width of her neck as a constant reminder of it. 

But now…

Now it’s different. 

Now there’s no scar. 

Just the lingering memory of something that could potentially come to fruition once again. 

And it’s nothing short of terrifying.

Suddenly, Penelope feels a foreign set of fingertips gentle graze her neck, tracing along the invisible line. She opens her eyes to find Hope’s warm blue eyes staring back at her, radiating a much-needed reassurance. 

“C’mon,” Hope says as she offers Penelope her hand and pulls Penelope up onto her feet. Penelope wipes her tears away and then looks at Hope in slight confusion. 

“Where are we going?” Penelope asks.

“Not sure exactly.” Hope shrugs and gives her best attempt at a smile. “But we’ve got a sweater to find.”  

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 9

“I remember all of the things that I thought I wanted to be

So desperate to find a way out of my world and finally breathe

Right before my eyes, I saw, my heart it came to life

This ain’t easy, it’s not meant to be

Every story has its scars

When the pain cuts you deep

When the night keeps you from sleeping

Just look, and you will see

That I will be your remedy

When the world seems so cruel

And your heart makes you feel like a fool

I promise you will see

That I will be, I will be your remedy.”

-- Remedy, Adele

__________

“Jojo…” Penelope sighs as the brunette playfully nips at the tender flesh of her collarbone.

“What?” Josie responds, and Penelope feels a familiar smirk expand against her skin. “Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”

“No. Of course not,” Penelope scoffs in a less than convincing voice. “I can go another twenty rounds.”

“Uh-huh.” Josie leaves one last mark upon Penelope’s collarbone and then nuzzles herself into the raven-haired girl’s body. Penelope can’t help but smile as she wraps her arms around Josie and pulls her even closer. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

Josie lets a light chuckle slip out. She buries her head even further into the crux of Penelope’s neck and mumbles an incoherent response.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” Penelope reaches up and begins to play with a loose strand of Josie’s chocolate brown locks as a strange sense of calmness washes over her. 

God, how she has forgotten how good this can feel. 

Laying in bed naked, bodies tangled up like headphone cords, merely just existing in each other’s presence. No distractions nor people to get in the way. Or even the looming threats to what’s to come. 

Nothing at all except for the two of them.

Penelope and Josie.

Penelope feels Josie inhale deeply, tickling her skin as she does. “Are you smelling me?”

Josie inhales again and then nods sheepishly. “Maybe…”

“Let me guess… I smell like cheap whiskey and lake water?”

“No. You smell like… I don’t know. You smell different than I remember.”

“Different?” 

“Yeah. Not a bad different… But just different.”

“Okay,” Penelope laughs. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Just that’s the third time you’ve said that to me in the last two days.” 

“It’s true,” Josie replies, causing Penelope to quirk a brow. “But in a good way. It’s like you’re more mature or something.”

“So, you’re saying I was childish before?” 

“No… Ugh. I should’ve never opened my mouth.” Josie buries her head once again in the crook of Penelope’s neck, and Penelope lets out another laugh. 

“Hey,” Penelope gently tucks her fingers under Josie’s chin, lifting her head up until they are eye to eye. “It’s okay. I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Of course, I do. The whole new leaf thing wasn’t just lip service. I really meant it. I’ve been working on things over the last few ye… months.”

“Really?” 

Penelope nods as her smile further softens. “Really.” 

“What kind of things?” Josie asks with genuine interest as she rolls her body over and props herself up with her elbow. 

“All kinds.” Penelope matches Josie’s position and props herself up on her elbow as well so that they are lying face to face. “I’ve been working on my spells a lot. Mainly strengthening my overall effectiveness, but also my ability to control the magic once I cast it as well.” 

“You can control it?”

“Sometimes… It takes a great deal of concentration,” Penelope replies. “Here. I’ll show you.” 

Penelope fixates in across the room on a stack of papers sitting on top of her desk. She whispers an indecipherable phrase under her breath and then flicks her finger out towards the stack. 

A single piece of paper floats up into the air and begins to slowly fold itself into an origami crane. 

Wordlessly, Penelope flicks her fingers to the left, and the paper instantly freezes mid-fold. “Okay. Now watch.”

Penelope doubles down her concentration on the piece of paper and then starts to move her fingers slowly in a counter-clockwise pattern. As she does, the paper begins to unfold itself, step by step, until it is back to its original form. It then floats back down onto the stack, as if it had never been touched at all.

Penelope breaks her gaze and looks back at Josie, who’s wearing a slightly confused expression upon her face. 

“Okay… So… You folded it and then unfolded--”

“Paper didn’t unfold,” Penelope cuts her off as a bit of an all-knowing smirk slides across her lips. 

“You did. I saw it.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“Pen, I did too. I just watched it with my own two eyes.”

Penelope’s smirk widens. “It wasn’t the paper, Jojo. It was time.”

“What?”

“I reversed time.”

“Wait…” Josie says as Penelope’s words start to sink in. “Time as in… Time itself?”

“Yup. I reserved time on the paper. But only for like two seconds so that it would go back to its original position. This way, to the untrained eye, it simply looks like I casted a secondary spell on it.”

Josie glances over at the stack of papers as her forehead start to crinkle with the tell-tale signs of utter bewilderment. “How…”

“It takes some advance level magic and a shit ton of concentration. But once you get the hang of it, it isn’t that much harder than casting something like a ‘regrowth’ spell… Or one of those protection charms that Dr. Waters loves to teach.”

“And you learned this all by yourself? In just a few months?” 

Penelope internally cringes at these questions. 

No. Of course, she hadn’t. It had taken a good two years of almost daily practice, along with countless intense meditation sessions, to master the art of time manipulation. And even then, when she finally got the hang of it, it still took yet another year until she was able to perform it on the fly. Or as Caroline loved to call it… under extreme duress. 

It had been the number one spell that Caroline had insisted on both Penelope and Hope mastering. And although, at first, Penelope hadn’t understood why over time, it quickly became the most valuable spell within her entire arsenal. 

In fact, if it hadn’t been for that one single spell, there would have been no stopping the knife that almost took Penelope’s life the night her and Hope faced off against--

“Pen?” The sound of Josie’s voice pulls Penelope back into the moment. 

“Sorry. Got lost in thought,” Penelope says as her fingers gently trace the patch of skin where the thin, white scar should reside. “I learned it from an old family friend. It’s a popular spell within my coven. Super useful in the defensive magic department. I can teach you if you want to learn. Fair warning, though, it requires a whole lot of training.”

“Like one on one training?” Josie asks, unable to hide the suggestive smile that’s starting to form upon her face. 

“Yeah,” Penelope laughs in response and then runs her hand through her hair, tucking a loose strand or two behind her ears in the process. “Would you be okay with that? Cause if not, I can always teach it to you in more of a group-like set--”

“Pen. Stop.” Josie leans forward and plants a reassuring kiss on Penelope’s lips, causing the raven-haired girl to immediately relax. “I would love that.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Josie says with a nod and then, without another word, scoots her body back towards Penelope until there’s no space left between them. Penelope returns the gesture with a tender kiss on the top of Josie’s head. She wraps her arms once again around the brunette and is instantly overtaken by the sheer and utter warm of it all. 

“I would love that too,” Penelope whispers back with a sigh of content. “I really would.”

__________

A couple more hours later and Josie convinces Penelope that they need to at least make an appearance in the dining hall for dinner or else someone-- and by someone, she means Lizzie-- will come looking for them. Penelope begrudgingly agrees but not before making sure to prolong their time together for as long as she humanly can with an additional encore performance or two.

It might be overkill, but given the looming circumstances just around the corner, Penelope doesn’t care too much. 

Every moment matters.

Even the seemingly trivial ones.

It’s one of the many “Caroline-isms” that has managed to stick with Penelope throughout the years. And one that has time and time again proven itself to be more than true. 

Chance encounters and brief exchanges filled with seemingly unimportant words. All presenting themselves at the time as a throwaway moment. But it’s only after when time gives away to reflection, do their real truths rise to the surface.

And the last six years of Penelope’s life has been nothing more than these moments. One after the next. So much so, that she’s learned to take the time-- even if there isn’t any spare time to take-- to evaluate each and every interaction she has. 

Every last moment. 

Because that’s just it. That moment could possibly-- or with her luck is more than likely-- be the last one of its kind. 

“Hey! Look! They are alive,” MG calls out to Penelope and Josie as they make their way through the crowded dining hall towards the table that Hope, MG, and Lizzie are sitting at. The sight of extra-wide, toothy grin causes Penelope to want to instantly turn around and retreat back into the safe confines of her dorm room once again, but then she feels Josie ever-so-gently take hold of her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

“You ready?” Josie whispers under her breath to Penelope. 

“Do we have a choice?” Penelope responds in a half-joke.

“We can nix dinner and go back to your room instead. My dad always makes sure that there are leftovers available in the student fridge on Sunday evenings for people who miss out on dinner. Maybe we could--”

“No,” Penelope cuts Josie off with an exhale. “We’re already here. Might as well bite the bullet and face the inquisition.”

Josie squeezes Penelope’s hand once again for added measure and then proceeds to guide the rest of the way towards the table.

“We were just about to draw straws on who should go get you two. Glad you surfaced on your own,” Hope says as Josie and Penelope sit down across from one another. “Have a good Sunday?” 

“Amazingly good,” Josie responds without missing a beat, and Lizzie immediately pretends to gag on the bite of her meatloaf.

“Ugh. No. Not happening.” Lizzie lets her fork clang down against her plate and looks over at Josie with a slightly disapproving stare. “Can we please hold off on anything remotely related to your return to the dark side until after dinner? Some of us are trying to eat here.” 

“Salty much?” Penelope asks as she leans over and steals a french fry off of Hope’s plate. 

“Evil much?” Lizzie fires back with an underlying sting of invisible venom that puts the entire table on edge. Sets of eyes discretely ping-pong between Lizzie and Penelope, all accompanied by shared looks of concern. 

Penelope knows that she’s playing with fire but can’t seem to help herself. The allure of irking the blonde-haired siphoner is just too irresistible.  

“Whatever you say…” Penelope pauses, taking a moment to fully lock eyes with Lizzie. She pops another french fry into her mouth and then produces one of her signatures smirks. “Liz.”

The chain reaction is instantaneous. Hope chokes mid-sip of water. Josie and MG quirk their heads in union with a shared look of confusion. And Lizzie… 

Lizzie narrows her icy blue eyes in on Penelope. “What did you call me?”

“What? I called you Liz.” Penelope replies with a casual shrug in between mouthfuls of fries. “It’s just a nickname. Like you call me Satan.”

“Park…” Hope mutters under her breath rapidly growing more concerned by the minute.

“How do you know?” Lizzie questions too focused on Penelope to notice anything else. 

“Know what?”

“Lizzie, it’s a coincidence. That’s all,” Josie chimes in.

“No. Nothing is just a coincidence when it comes to the Dark Lord,” Lizzie snaps, whipping her attention over to Josie. “She called me Liz twice now. She knows.”

“Know what?” MG asks.

“Hey. I’ve got an idea…” Hope says, but it falls on deaf ears. All eyes are solely on Lizzie.

“Yeah. What am I supposed to know?” Penelope questions with a sudden genuine quality to her voice.

In all honesty, Penelope doesn’t fully know why Lizzie up and made the switch over to Liz. She had guessed at the time it was done to further distance herself from the reputation that her twin sister was rapidly gaining throughout the supernatural community, but maybe she had been wrong. 

Maybe there had been a more profound meaning… 

Josie waits for a moment, looking at Lizzie to answer, but is only met with an intense scowl in return. She lets out a sigh in annoyance and turns back towards the rest of the table. “We went to this carnival once when we were twelve and got our futures read by some tarot card reader. The whole experience was super strange. The woman kept calling Lizzie ‘Liz’ even though we corrected her like a million and one times and going on and on about how the name was tied to Lizzie’s destiny. The sooner she embraced it, the better off things would be. Or something like that.” 

“Something like that? Josie, the woman’s exact words were ‘pay attention to those that choose to call you Liz. For those are the ones who have already seen where your path will take you’. And now look who’s calling me Liz? Satan herself. Again, not a coincidence. She knows something,” Lizzie replies.

Penelope suddenly finds herself struggling to swallow down her current bite of fries. She spots Hope’s eyes slightly widen as well at the revelation but tries not to focus in on it too much. 

Shit.

She’s gone too far.

“That’s one cryptic ass fortune to give a twelve-year-old,” MG comments.

“Oh, that wasn’t even part of my fortune. This all happened before my reading even began,” Lizzie responds. “The woman then proceeded to ramble on for like twenty minutes about how my soulmate would have amber color eyes, a strong liking for extra raw steaks, and wears a leather jacket.”

Hope does a full-on spit take, spraying a mist of water all over her tray of food, grabbing the attention of the table.

“You okay?” Josie asks Hope in earnest. 

“Yeah,” Penelope replies, unable to contain her amusement. “You alright, Mikaelson?”

“Yup.” Hope wipes off her face and tries to re-compose herself. “Never better.”

“Anyway… As Josie said, the whole experience was super odd, to say the least. So clearly, I’ve got my reasons to be extra suspicious of anyone who suddenly chooses to up and call me Liz.” 

“I get that,” MG nods. “But think Josie’s right on this one. It’s Penelope. Not some mysterious person who you just met. How could she know the future?” 

“Who wants to take a road trip to New Orleans?” Hope blurts out, causing a round of instant whiplash at the table. 

“What?” Lizzie asks.

“New Orleans. Who wants to go with me?”

“Now?” Josie follows up, now thoroughly confused. 

“No. Not now. But how about tomorrow? My Aunt Freya mentioned that there’s this massive supernatural gathering going on right now in New Orlean that only happens once every 200 years and invited me to come down to see it. So I was thinking about skipping out of classes for a few days to go visit them… Penelope’s already agreed to come,” Hope explains and then discretely shoots Penelope a ‘please for the love of god play along’ look.

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Penelope says with a lingering bit of uncertainty to her voice. “Why not? Thought it could be fun.”

“Count me in,” MG responds.

“Me too.” Josie flashes Penelope an excited smile and Penelope instantly melt at the sight. 

“Excuse me?” Lizzie stares at Josie in shock. 

“Oh c’mon, Lizzie. You love road trips.” 

“Pre-planned road trips, yes. Impromptu, let’s skip school for a few days to travel halfway across the country for some random witch gathering? Not so much. Besides, what about dad?”

“He left this morning for New York. I saw him as he was leaving for the airport. Apparently, he got a call from mom late last night about something that she needs him to check out and will be gone until Friday. So there’s no need to worry about him noticing we’re not here.”

“But--”

“Please?” Hope cuts in with a raw honesty that immediately throws Lizzie for a loop. 

Lizzie slowly turns to face Hope as her eyes scan the tribrid’s face for any sort of inkling that she’s being punked. “You want me to go?”

Hope nods and offers up a timid smile in return. 

“Oh…” Lizzie responds, and Penelope watches as the blonde-haired siphoner’s body language makes a dramatic shift from tense and hostile to nothing more than a mush pile of emotions. “Then, I guess I could tag along.”

Penelope catches Josie’s eyes, and the two exchange a small but all-knowing smile as well. 

“Yes!” MG exclaims. “So when do we get the hell outta dodge?”

“How about first thing in the morning? Right after breakfast? The front entrance is always dead around that time since everyone is trying to get to class. We could totally slip out unnoticed,” Josie suggests. 

“What about transportation? We can’t just magically teleport ourselves to New Orleans?” Lizzie questions.

“Let me take care of that one,” MG says in between monstrous bites of his cheeseburger. “Kaleb owes me a favor or two.” 

“Works for me,” Hope replies. “Park?”

“Sounds like a plan.” And as soon as the words leave Penelope’s mouth, an eerie sense of calmness washes over her. 

There’s a plan.

Maybe it’s half-baked-- and that’s if she’s being generous-- but a plan nonetheless. And it involves them getting as far away from the Salvatore School as humanly possible.

Penelope lets out a slight sigh of relief and then once again catches an all too familiar set of chocolate brown eyes staring at her longingly from across the table at her. She flashes Josie, a playful smirk accompanied by one of her signature eyebrow shrugs, and like clockwork, a noticeable blush spreads like wildfire across the brunette’s cheeks.

Just maybe there’s still hope for them after all.

Maybe… 

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 17: Clarke (V)

Numb.

It’s the only word that comes to mind for the out of body sensation that Clarke is currently experiencing. 

Everything is numb.

No anger.

Or sadness.

Or even fear of what’s to come.

It’s as if her inner catalog of tried and true emotions are suddenly nowhere to be found, leaving Clarke with the inability to feel anything… 

Anything at all.

All there is is the never-ending abundance of numbness.

“Time to go, Blondie,” Anya announces from somewhere in the near distance. But Clarke doesn’t move. She remains planted on the top step of Murphy’s front porch, arms wrapped around her legs and chin resting upon her knees, while her eyes stare out into the darkness before her. 

A distinct set of footsteps cut through the ongoing background party noise, growing closer and closer, until stopping right beside Clarke. A moment or two of silence passes and then she notices the all too familiar sound of Anya letting out one of her “What mess did my sister create now” signatures sighs. 

Clarke knows that sound.

It’s the one that has become synonymous with Anya throughout the years, as time and time again the older Woods sister has managed to step in at just the right moment and fix whatever mess that Lexa has caused. The sigh comes first. Then the silence while Anya works her magic to rectify the situation at hand. 

Words come later. Always firm and direct, but never with a tone of anger. And never too many neither. It’s always just the right amount to get her point across before moving on.

Clarke feels the sudden weighted warmth of Anya’s leather jacket around her shoulders and can’t help but shrink into it, desperate for any sort of comfort at the moment. She blinks away the hint of tears forming within the corners of her eyes as Anya ever-so-gently helps her up onto her feet and leads her down the front steps. 

The two walk side by side in silence down the street and back towards Lexa’s car, with only the occasional street light to guide their way. Clarke doesn’t need to ask where they are going. She already knows. Anya is taking her home.

It’s always the first step when it comes to cleaning up the mess. 

Everyone is taken home-- and to their own home only-- and is required to get a good night’s sleep. Then, and only then, can they reconvene with one another. Usually over bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches and coffee at Blue’s. 

That’s the ritual. 

Always.

Clarke slides herself into the passenger’s seat and buckles her seat belt as Anya gets situated. “What about Rae and Octavia?”

“Took off. Saw the two of them leave together about 20 minutes ago. Guessing they got an Uber or something.”

Clarke nods. “Lexa left too.”

“I know. My sister is an idiot,” Anya responds, never once taking her eyes off of the windshield. “A massive fucking idiot.”

“No, it’s my fault, I was the one--”

“Don’t. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

“But, I--”

“No. This is not your fault.” Anya turns and briefly locks eyes with Clarke. “And it doesn’t matter what you think you did or didn’t do. This one’s all on my sister.”

Clarke wants to believe Anya’s words, but the overwhelming guilt residing in the depth of her stomach is just too all-consuming. She shakes her head as a fresh set of tears reemerge in the corners of her eyes. 

Anya steals another quick look at Clarke and then exhales. “Look. I don’t know what went down between you and my sister tonight, but my guess is that Lexa pulled her normal shut down and run away bullshit.”

Clarke once again swallows back down her tears and then gives the tiniest of nods in confirmation.

“So fucking predictable,” Anya mutters under her breath. “Now she’s gonna run her ass all the way to England.”

England.

The word slams into Clarke like an unexpected slap to the face. She straightens herself up a bit within the passenger’s seat as her brow furrows with confusion. 

Lexa is going to England?

No.

That can’t be right.

It’s the alcohol playing tricks on her.

She’s drunk and misheard Anya. That’s all.

Lexa’s not leaving. Not in the middle of their senior year. Why would she? 

They are supposed to be going to UCLA together. 

Lexa would’ve said something to her if their plans had changed… Wouldn’t she?

Stop.

It’s the alcohol.

Lexa’s going nowhere. 

They’re in love.

And people in love don’t up and go halfway around the world without saying something.

Those things just don’t happen.

Clarke closes her eyes and shakes her head, trying to clear away her snowballing thoughts from her mind. She grabs the edges of Anya’s leather jacket and pulls it closer to her body as a strange set of chills washes over her. 

Something still doesn’t quite feel right… 

“Cold?” Anya asks.

“Yeah. A little bit.”

Anya reaches over, turns on the heat, and then repositions the vents to blow towards Clarke. “Here. It should take a minute or two, but then it’ll warm-up.”

“Thanks.”

Anya nods. “Used to it. Lexa is always freezing too. She would drive with the heat on in July if she could… She should’ve been born on some tropical island. Like Hawaii or Fiji.”

The smallest hint of a smile appears on Clarke’s face. She more than knows what Anya is talking about. It’s one of Lexa’s most endearing quirks. The insatiable craving for warmth. 

And it goes beyond just her normal wardrobe staples of oversized hoodies and thick fuzzy socks. No. Lexa constantly needs continuous warmth, both inside and out, in order to thrive. Otherwise…

“It’s gonna be alright,” Anya says, cutting through the silence once again. “I’ll drop you home and then go hunt Lexa’s ass down and knock some sense into her. Everyone just needs to sober up and get some sleep. Tomorrow things will return to normal. You’ll see. You won’t even get a foot in the door before Lexa starts to apologize and beg you to forgive her.” 

“Yeah,” Clarke replies with an underlying tone of uncertainty to her voice. She so desperately wants to believe that Anya’s right. That by tomorrow morning everything within the world will return to back to normal and the events of tonight will slowly fade away like a forgotten nightmare. And yet…

Something still isn’t right.

Clarke can feel it circling around her like an invisible entity that only she can sense, just waiting for the opportune moment to rear its ugly head and bring further havoc into her life. 

But what is it?

And what does it have to do with Lexa?

__________

“Hey Blondie,” Anya says with a drugged-up husk to her voice. “Back again?” 

But Clarke doesn’t respond right away. She instead quietly slips into the hospital room and shuts the door behind her, letting the definitive click of the lock speak for her.

Anya quirks her brow as she tries to decipher the reason behind the peculiar action. “You know you don’t have to lock that thing. It’s not like I can up and go anywhere.”

“It’s not for you. It’s to make sure we aren’t interrupted by any random pop-ins,” Clarke replies. She pulls up a nearby chair to Anys’s bedside and takes a seat. “We need to talk.”

“Okay…” 

Clarke goes to open her mouth but suddenly finds that the words that she’s been rehearsing in the confines of her own head ever since leaving Raven’s hospital room are now nowhere to be found. As if they’ve evaporated into mere nothingness, leaving Clarke with not an inkling of where to even start.

It’s Anya.

The same Anya that would cover for Clarke all those times back in high school when she would fall asleep in Lexa’s bed and forget to get up before Indra awoke. The one that helped her bail Raven and Bellamy out of jail, no questions asked, after they were caught rebuilding a ‘76 mustang in the principal’s office. And the one that was ultimately left to clean up Lexa’s mess when she ran off to Cambridge.

“Clarke… What is it?”

Clarke blinks and then inhales deeply. She can feel Anya’s eyes upon her. Observant as ever. “I went to see Raven.”

“Yeah? How’s she doing? Is she okay? I asked one of the nurses but they wouldn’t say jackshit to me. Something about patient-doctor confidentiality or some other bullshit like that.”

“She’s awake.”

“And…” Anya impatiently follows up, too eager to wait any longer. 

Clarke bites her lip a little too hard, almost breaking the skin. 

Where the hell did her words go?  

“Clarke?”

“You need to go see her.”

“I would if I could. You know that. But they won’t even let me get out of bed by myself to go take a piss,” Anya responds and Clarke senses a hint of hostile growing within the depths of her voice. “Tell me what’s going on. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” 

“I--” 

“Don’t do it, Clarke. We had a deal. No bullshitting each other. Not when it comes to the hard stuff. Remember? That was the deal you and I made after Lexa left,”

“I know,” Clarke responds. 

“Okay. Then answer my question… What’s wrong with Raven?”

Clarke exhales and runs her hands through her short, messy locks as she mentally shifts herself into doctor mode. “During the crash, Raven suffered what is called a partial dislocation of the L3 vertebra. This means her spine shifted from the impact, causing a severe amount of swelling and trauma to the surrounding nerves. Right now, it’s too soon to say if there’s any permanent damage, but…”

Clarke trails off as her words fail her once again. She’s done this a thousand times before. To face a patient’s loved ones and have to explain the extent of damages. It’s the first major test that any pre-med intern goes through. And up until this point, Clarke has always passed with flying colors. So much so, that she has gained the unwanted reputation of being a “Hoodoo”. 

A deliverer of bad news. 

But now… 

Now it’s different. 

Now the person she is talking about isn’t some generic-named stranger, but someone that is part of her life.

Now the person is Raven.

“But?” Anya asks unable to hide the quiver in her voice.

“But for right now Raven is experiencing roughly 75% paralysis of both of her legs.”

The words explode like a shrapnel-filled grenade, emotionally shredding Anya on impact. Clarke watches as Anya’s unreadable mask shatters, giving way to two defined trails of tears. “She’s paralyzed?” 

Clarke nods. “Yes.”

“Does she know?” 

“Not sure. She didn’t let on to it when I was with her, but she’s lucid enough to at least know something isn’t right. And given that it’s Raven, she’s already put two and two together by now.” 

The tears continue to flow freely down Anya’s cheeks as she takes a moment to process the gravity of Clarke’s words.

“I talked with Jackson and they’re planning on doing another set of scans in a few hours from now. The hope is that by then the swelling will have subsided enough to get a better picture of what’s causing the paralysis. It might even just be due to the initial trauma of the impact itself. In fact, once it goes down, there’s a strong likelihood that Raven might just naturally regain full functionality and feeling on her own. I’ve seen it happen before. At least a half dozen times. There’s was this motorcycle accident back in August where--” 

“Clarke.” 

Clarke stops rambling and catches hold Anya’s eyes. The tears have now slowed down but still, the look of pure uncertainty remains written across her face and Clarke is instantly transported back to that fateful night. It’s the only other time when she’s seen Anya look this way. Terrified of the unforeseen disaster that is lurking just off in the horizon. 

The unpredictable.

“It’s going to be alright.” The words tumble out of Clarke’s mouth before she can process what she is actually saying. She cringes, bracing for the inevitable response, but instead is greeted by a soft laugh. 

“Nice try, but you and I both know that phrase is like the kiss of death.”

“I know,” Clarke sighs. “But maybe this time things will be.”

“Maybe…” Anya replies with a less than believable tone. She lets out a long exhale of air and then-- 

“I need to see her.”

Clarke nods in agreement. “Yes, you really do.”

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 8

“Crawling underneath my skin, sweet talk with a hint of sin

Begging you to take me

Devil underneath your grin, sweet thing, bet you play to win, heaven gonna hate me

And touch me like you never

And push me like you never

And touch me like you never

'Cause I am not afraid, I am not afraid anymore

No no no”

-- Not Afraid Anymore, Halsey

__________

Warmth.

That’s the first thought that registers with Penelope as she slowly comes into consciousness. There’s a strangely familiar warmth of arms around her body, holding her close in comfort. 

But who do the arms belong to?

Penelope’s mind begins to race, quickly replaying the fragments of memories from last night. She had gone to Alaric’s office in search of alcohol and found the bottle of whiskey and then…

Then the memories grow fuzzy. There are flashes of the school courtyard. And the woods. And even the dock.

Why the hell did she go down to the dock?

“Stop moving. It’s too early to get up,” Hope mumbles from behind Penelope. She re-adjusting her grip on the raven-haired girl, nuzzling her head into the crook of her neck in the process.  

“Hope?” Penelope questions in slight confusion. She blinks away the sleep from her eyes and right away notices that once again she’s in Hope’s dorm room.

“Who else would it be?” Hope fires back, sounding more awake than before.

“Oh god… How did I end up here?” 

“You want the short or the long answer?”

Penelope rolls over to face Hope and runs her hands through her bedhead. “Neither?” 

Hope lets out a sigh. “MG and I found you passed out on the docks late last night with a half-empty bottle of whiskey.” 

“Shit,” Penelope mutters under her breath as she internally kicks herself in the ass for being such a hot mess.

“How did you end up at the dock in the first place? Weren’t you supposed to be on the roof with Josie?”

“I was…”

“Okay…”

“But things didn’t exactly go as planned,” Penelope says with a long exhale of air. She stares up at the ceiling, unable to deal with the Tribrid’s eyes upon her. “We kissed.”

“You did? That’s awe-- Wait… So what went wrong? Cause last I checked that’s a good thing.”

“It was. It was beyond good. It was amazing.”

“Was?”

“We kissed and then Josie freaked out on me and told me that she can’t do this.”

“Ouch…” Hope says sucking in air between her teeth. 

“Yeah. And then she up and ran off before I could say anything else.” Penelope grabs the pillow from beneath her head and then pulls it over her face in utter frustration. “Ugh… I need more time.” 

“How much time is left?”

“Two days,” Penelope mutters in an almost incoherent voice through the pillow. 

“You serious?”

“Dead serious.” 

Hope wrenches the pillow of Penelope’s face and half-jokingly smacks her with it.

“Hey!”

“Penelope ‘I would use your middle name if I knew what it was’ Park. Stop sulking and get your ass outta my bed.”

“It’s Charlotte.” Penelope props herself up onto her elbows and sighs once again.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I would’ve guessed it was Lucifer,” Hope replies with a smirk. Penelope snatches the pillow up and hits Hope back with it.

“Not funny.”

“Oh, c’mon. It was a good one.”

“Seriously, Hope. What am I supposed to do? It’s not like I have the luxury of letting her work through her emotions for a few days and then try again.” 

Hope pries the covers off herself, swings her legs out of the bed, and then walks around to Penelope. “Get up.” 

Penelope stares at Hope in confusion but Hope doesn’t let it stop her. She grabs hold of Penelope’s hands and yanks her up out of the bed. 

“Get out, Penelope.”

“But--”

“You’re gonna head back to your room, change your clothes, run a hairbrush through your hair, and go hunt down Josie.” 

“But she doesn’t want to--”

“Yes, she does. Trust me. And you and I both know it. There’s no one else in the world that Josie Saltzman wants more than you,” Hope continues on, outright ignoring Penelope’s protests. She places her hands on Penelope’s shoulders and steers her towards her dorm room door. 

“Hope, I--”

“Go! And don’t you dare think of bringing your ass back here until you’ve found her.” Hope opens the dorm room door and gives Penelope a firm shove.

“I hate you,” Penelope says over her shoulder. 

“No, you don’t,” Hope answers back and then shuts the door, nipping Penelope in the heels as she does. 

“Fuck.” Penelope runs her hands through her hair one more time as the truth behind Hope’s words settles down upon her. She needs to find Josie… and now.

__________

“Jojo?” Penelope blurts out in surprise as she opens the door to her dorm room and comes face to face with the sight of the brunette siphoner sitting there smack dab in the middle of her room… on her bed. 

“Hey,” Josie responds quietly, bringing her rich chocolate brown eyes up to meet Penelope’s. “I didn’t know when you’d be back so I thought I would just wait here.”

“Yeah. I crashed in Hope’s room again.” Penelope slips into the room and shuts the door behind her. 

“I know.” Penelope watches as Josie starts to fidget with the frayed string of her navy Salvatore sweatshirt and can’t help but feel a hint of a smile crawl across her lips. 

Josie is in the sweatshirt yet again. 

Her sweatshirt.

“You do?”

Josie nods. “I’m the one that told Hope and MG that you were missing. I came looking for you in your room and couldn’t find you so I went to Hope’s. She mentioned that she hadn’t seen you either. So we all split up and searched for you at all of the usual spots. It was Hope’s idea to check dock.” 

“I just needed some air,” Penelope responds unsure of what exactly to do or say in the given moment. She awkwardly shifts from foot to foot still unable to bring herself to move from the confines of the doorway. 

Penelope has played these hypothetical Josie moments over and over again in her mind thousands of times before. Always refining the precisely right combo of words and actions she would use to make the siphoner fall back in love with her. Like a well-rehearsed play written directly to her heart. 

There was supposed to be time for a proper build-up. Tiny moments, like stolen glances in their chemistry of magic class or sharing laughter over one of MG’s lame dad jokes during lunch in the dining hall. One after the next, until they morphed into something more. Something that would naturally lead Penelope back down the familiar path to Josie’s heart. 

There was supposed to be time…

“Pen, I--”

“It’s okay,” Penelope says, cutting Josie off before any further damage can be done. She swallows the dry lump residing in the back of her throat and then tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ears. “I get it.” 

“Pen--”

“No, really. It’s okay, Josie. You don’t have to explain. I should’ve--”

“Penelope!” The use of her full name stops Penelope dead in her tracks. She stands there frozen, eyes scanning Josie’s face for a sign-- any sign-- of what’s to come next. 

“Please, just come here,” Josie pats the open spot beside her on the bed. It takes a moment for Penelope to register the request but then makes her way across the room and joins Josie. They sit there, side by side, in the awkward silence for what seems like an eternity, bodies impossibly close but still not touching. 

Once again, Penelope’s inner 16-year-old self screams at the top of its lungs to say something.

Anything.

But words are simply nowhere to be found. 

Not when all Penelope can concentrate on is the sheer proximity of Josie in relation to herself. They are innately magnetic. Always have been. Ever since that very first moment that Penelope set eyes on the brunette siphoner. Drawn to one another by some unknown force, regardless of the situation. 

And Penelope more than knows that this invisible magnetism won’t ever go away… Not even when Josie is no longer Josie. 

A fresh set of chills runs down Penelope’s spine as she pushes the thought back down into the dark recesses of her mind. She can’t go there. 

Not now. 

Not when there’s still a chance to prevent those horrific memories from ever transpiring.

“I’m sorry,” Josie says, finally breaking the silence between them. 

“It’s okay, I--”

“Pen, I need you to just listen.” Josie ever-so-gently places her hand down upon Penelope’s thigh and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Josie nods. “I shouldn’t have run out on you last night. Especially not right after we kissed. I just… I freaked out and didn’t know what to do. Ever since you mentioned the Merge in your letter, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. And what that means for my future… And Lizzie’s. What if there’s no way to stop it? What happens then? Lizzie and I are forced to battle each other to the death? I… I can’t do that. Not to Lizzie. So that means I’ve got what? Six years left to live? It sounds like a lot of time but when you compare it to a lifetime, it’s really nothing at all. And it would be so selfish of me to inflict that death sentence on anyone else, but I… I can’t help it… All I want is you.” 

Penelope reaches up and takes hold of Josie’s cheeks within the palms of her hands, wiping away a fresh tear. She locks eyes with the set of rich chocolate brown ones staring back at her as a hint of a bittersweet smile emerges upon her face. “Jojo, You already have me.”

Before Penelope can finish her sentence, Josie’s lips are upon her, instantly melting away any remaining traces of fear and doubts. The kiss is unrelentingly savage. And Penelope can’t get enough. She kisses back, matching every ounce of Josie’s intensity, falling into a sudden tug-o-war for dominance. 

After a moment or two, Josie pulls out of the kiss, but not before giving Penelope’s bottom lip a suggestive nip for good measure. She stares at Penelope with an uncharacteristic lustful look as a devilish smirk spreads across her cherry red lips. “Shirt off.”

“Jo…” Penelope slightly hesitates causing Josie to take matters into her own hands. She playfully shoves Penelope back onto the bed and in one swift move, swings her leg over, pinning Penelope by her hips. 

“I’m not asking,” Josie follows up while grabbing hold of the hem of Penelope’s shirt. She pulls it off in one fluid motion, taking Penelope’s bra off with it. 

A warm shiver washes over Penelope as her skin ignites from Josie’s touch. 

God, is it addicting.

A heavy moan of pure ecstasy escapes Penelope’s lips. “Baby…”

“Shh…” Josie swallows Penelope’s moan with another searing hot kiss as her hands continue to further unwrap Penelope like a much-anticipated Christmas present. “Let me take care of you.”

Before Penelope can even utter a protect, Josie unzipped her jeans and gently peels them off her legs. She marks bruising trail down the slope of Penelope’s neck to her collar bone and then goes to work on to the swell of her breasts. 

“Fuck me,” Penelope moans again unable to contain the raw desire coursing through her veins. She’s fantasized about this moment-- this very exact moment-- day in and day out for the last six years and yet not that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel quite real. As if somewhere along the way she slipped from consciousness into one of her more than favorable dreams.  

“Oh, I plan to,” Josie laughs against Penelope’s hip bone and then hooks her fingers into the thin strip of black cotton. “But first these need to go.”

Penelope happily obliges, lifting her hips off of the bed as Josie slides her last article of clothing off of her body and then tosses them aside. She watches as the love of her life, briefly hovers above her, eyes roaming over every last inch of flesh that Penelope has to offer. Josie bites her lip and smiles. 

“What?” Penelope asks matching Josie’s infectious smile with one of her own.

“I love you.”

And that’s all it takes for Penelope’s heart to explode. “I love you too, Jojo.”

Josie hums a response and then proceeds to descend downwards until settling in on the one spot where Penelope needs her the most. Penelope closes her eyes and fully let’s go as her body is all but consumed with infinite love and desire.

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 16: Lexa (IV)

Love is weakness.

Her father was right. 

It’s an Achilles heel that if left uncovered will only lead to one’s ultimate demise. 

How could she have been so foolish? 

She almost let the illusion of love get in the way of her seizing a once in a lifetime opportunity… 

Lexa pushes her legs to go faster as she runs down the semi-desolate streets of her neighborhood. She knows that to an outsider’s eye she must look like a madwoman. Running down the middle of the street in a full-blown sprint, dressed in jeans and a button-down. But Lexa could care less about appearances at the moment. Not now. 

Not when every last ounce of her body is screaming at her to run.

When Lexa first took off out of Murphy’s house and started to run, she hadn’t had an exact destination in mind. All she knew was that she needed to run… Run as fast and as far as she could. Away from the harsh reality of the current situation.

Away from Clarke. 

The longer Lexa ran, though, the more she realized that her subconscious did indeed have a destination in mind. Her body was automatically leading her in the direction of her house. 

Lexa was heading home.

But for how long?

The question slams into Lexa, almost knocking the air right out of her lungs. She slows her pace down to a light jog as her mind picks up speed. 

Lexa already knows the answer. 

If she’s being 100% honest with herself, she’s more than known it for a while now, but up until this point, has been too terrified to admit it. 

Lexa turns the corner onto her street and heads straight for her house. It’s dark. Too dark for anyone to be home yet. And for once in her life, she’s beyond thankful for this. 

Lexa can’t deal with people-- especially the ones that matter most to her-- at the moment. No. They will only make what she needs to do next even harder than it already is. 

The time for unwarranted advice and questions has come and gone. Lexa’s mind is already up. 

Lexa slips into her house, pausing for a brief second for signs of anyone else, and then makes her way upstairs to her bedroom. She quickly grabs a large duffle bag out of the top shelf of her closet and tosses it down onto her bed. 

There isn’t a ton that she needs. Maybe some clothes. A few books. Her laptop. All the rest can be bought or sent for later. The school has already promised to ensure that the basics are covered for her. So what else is there really to take?

Lexa throws a random mixture of clothes and books into the bag and then lets out a sigh as she scans the rest of the contents of her room.

What’s one supposed to take with them when they’ve made the decision to up and leave their life behind?

A moment passes and then Lexa spots it. 

The framed charcoal sketch of her sleeping that Clarke gave to her as a Christmas gift last year. It had been one of those serendipitous surprises that had come long after they had already celebrated and had opened up their gifts to one another. Clarke had suggested that they go retreat to Lexa’s room after having survived a three-hour-long dinner complete with a lively debate surrounding military strategy in the middle east. 

The quintessential Woods family Christmas dinner. 

Lexa had been too preoccupied with apologizing to Clarke that at first, she had failed to notice the newly framed sketch sitting on her bedside table. In fact, it wasn’t until they were in the midst of one of their nightly makeout sessions did she even realize it was there at all. 

But once Lexa spotted it… 

It became her most valuable and cherished possession. That sketch was the first thing she would lay her eyes on in the morning… Unless, of course, Clarke had slept over. And it was the last thing she looked after before falling asleep.

It was her constant reminder of love.

Lexa exhales again and then slowly makes her way over to the bedside table. She picks up the frame allowing her fingers to trace over the smooth glass surface as she feels the beginnings of tears start to whelm up within her eyes. 

“Love is weakness,” Lexa says softly, almost as if trying to convince herself that the words are true. She swallows back the tears as she takes one last look at the frame. 

Then, with a sudden resolution, Lexa places it back down on the bedside table, zips up her duffle bag, and leaves.

__________ 

“Fuck!” The familiar voice cuts through the unsettling stillness of the hospital corridor causing Lexa to momentarily pause. She has been methodically walking laps around the hallways for well over an hour now, with no real destination nor desire to stop. 

Lexa had promised Clarke that she wouldn’t run… 

But still… 

The overwhelming itch was there. 

She needed to keep moving. Even if it was in pointless circles. 

And so she did. Around and around again. 

Twenty laps in total so far.

Curious, Lexa turns into a hidden alcove and immediately comes face to face with O, who is leaning up against the glass of a vending machine, looking as if she’s milliseconds away from officially throwing in the towel and giving up.

“Octavia?” Lexa asks. O lifts her head as her face morph into a look of abrupt anger.

“Don’t call me that,” O responds harshly. 

“Right. My apologies. O.”

“What’d you want?” 

Lexa shakes her head and inches backward, sensing the overwhelming hostility radiating off of the younger girl. She goes to leave the alcove and head back to her laps, when suddenly--

“Why’d you do it?”

The question rips through Lexa like a bullet, shredding everything it touches into uneven jagged ribbons of pain and regret. She stops dead in her tracks and then swallows dryly.

“What do you mean?” Lexa replies, already knowing the answer.

“Clarke. Why’d you do it?” O stares at Lexa, eyes boring straight through her seemingly impenetrable walls. 

“Oct--”

“I told you already. Stop calling me that. It’s not my name.”

Lexa slightly recoils as a wave of confusion washes over her. “Sorry. I don’t understand. If Octavia isn’t your name, then why have we been calling you it?”

O lets out a weighted sigh and then collapses down against the vending machine. Lexa follows her lead and joins her on the floor. 

“It is my name. It just… It just doesn’t feel right. At least not anymore.”

Lexa nods. “And O does?”

“Yeah. I think so,” O responds out loud to herself more than to Lexa. “And… And I would appreciate it if you used they/ them when talking about me.”

Lexa nods again as she digests the new piece of information. “Okay.”

“Okay?” O asks slightly unsure of if she’s heard Lexa correctly.

“Yes. Okay. If that’s what you prefer to be called, then that’s what I’ll use from now on.”

“You’re serious?” 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be serious?” 

“I dunno… I guess I just thought it would be…” O stumbles over their words as they start to pick at the cracked rubber on their beat-up converse. “Nevermind.” 

“Be what?” 

“Harder, I guess.” 

Lexa silently studies O for a moment or two, fully taking in all of the subtle, but meaningful, changes from the 16-year-old girl that Lexa once knew. The shorter hair. The androgynous skewing wardrobe. Even down to the way that they carry themselves. 

There’s a distinct air of self-assurance. Small but noticeable nonetheless. 

“You haven’t told anyone else, have you?” 

O shakes their head. “You’re the first… Or technically the second. Raven knows too. But I didn’t tell her. She just sorta figured it out.”

Raven. 

How could she forget about Raven? 

Lexa had gotten so preoccupied between Anya and the sudden reemergence of Clarke that she hadn’t even thought to inquire about the one other constant in her life. The sole person, besides her sister, had made an actual effort to stay in touch with her over the years. To check-in and send a “hey! how are you surviving in the land of tweed and crumpets” text every so often, regardless of whether or not they got a text back.

“Lexa?” O asks, snapping Lexa back into the moment.

“Raven. Is she okay? Have you seen her?”

O nods. “Yeah. Actually, that’s where I just was. She’s awake but…”

“But? But what? O, what’s wrong with--”

“She can't move her legs.”

The single sentence all but guts Lexa. She stares at O searching for a sign-- any sign-- that there's been some sort of grave misunderstanding, but is only met with a familiar look of helplessness.

Lexa swallow down the lump of growing emotions as her stomach begins to Cirque du Soleil itself within the confines of her body. “What did the doctors say?”

O shakes their head as the look of fear and helplessness spreads until it encompasses every inch of themselves. “I dunno. But I was there when she figured it out. And… And, yeah.” 

Once again, the silence seeps back in as Lexa mind races through a minefield of thoughts. One exploding after the next. 

Anya.

Does Anya know?

Anya must not know. Otherwise, their whole interaction would have been vastly different. 

But Anya can’t remain in the dark for too much longer. Can she? 

And when she discovers the truth… 

Run.

Lexa needs to run. 

Her body instantly ignites with the insatiable itch. She should run. Run far and fast. She’s done it before. 

So why not do it again?

Clarke.

A sudden vision of those crystal blue eyes invades Lexa’s mind, all but eviscerating the other thousands of other toxic thoughts. 

No, running isn’t an option… 

Not any more.

“I never answered your question,” Lexa says breaking the silence between them.  

“Huh?” 

“You asked me why I did it. Why I left.”

“Lexa, it’s okay. You don’t have to--”

“I left because it was easier than staying.” Lexa exhales with a weighted sigh and then waits in silence as it once again takes over the room.

A moment passes…

And then another…

Instant regret. 

It flows through her veins like white water rapids. She shouldn’t have revealed that… especially not to the younger sibling of the girl who’s life she all but ruined by up and running away to the other side of the world. 

Lexa goes to open her mouth again in order to fill in the blanks left by her statement, when suddenly--

“I get that,” O replies in nothing more than a whisper. 

The three simple words wrap themselves around Lexa like a much needed invisible embrace. A light laugh of shock slips out from her lips. “You do?”

O nods their head. “Yeah. I more or less did the same thing to Raven. Except what I did was way worse. I didn’t just disappear. I flat out outed her and lied about what happened between the two of us. I made her out to the bad guy because it was easier than admitting the truth about myself. And I’ve hated myself ever since that moment. The easier choice always comes with a consequence. Just wish I understood what that was before I permanently fucked things up.”

“Nothing’s in life is permanent.”

“God, I hope your right,” O responds. They run their hand methodically up and down over the short stubble on the back of their head in a sign that Lexa notices right way to signify the need for comfort. 

An automatic smile spreads across Lexa’s face. So much has changed and yet… 

O is still O. 

“Well, I have an excellent track record of rarely being wrong. So there’s that.” 

O laughs in response and then pauses for a moment as if internally debating whether or not to ask their next question, but Lexa already knows what it is. She locks eyes with O and gives them a reassuring nod. “It’s okay to ask.”

“So…” O begins to slightly gnaw on her bottom lip. “Are you going to stick around this time?”

“I plan to, yes.”

“Good. Cause my sister really needs you in her life,” O replies and instantly Lexa feels the raw truth of those words. 

“I know.” Lexa gives O a small nod of understanding. “I need her too.”

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 7

“All I knew this morning when I woke

Is I know something now, know something now I didn't before

And all I've seen since eighteen hours ago

Is green eyes and freckles and your smile

In the back of my mind making me feel like

I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now”

-- Everything Has Changed, Taylor Swift

__________

“I’ve got this,” Penelope whispered under her breath for the thousandth time in the last hour as she approaches Josie and Lizzie’s dorm room door. “It’s just Josie.” 

But that’s the crux of the problem. 

It’s Josie Saltzman.

And there’s no divorcing the sweet and innocent 16-year-old siphoner from years and years worth of past memories of the other version. The one that tends to haunt the darkest recesses of Penelope’s mind. 

The Josie Saltzman, who quickly became notorious for the wake of death and destruction wherever she went. The one that murdered her twin sister in cold-blood. 

The one who almost killed--

Penelope’s fingers go to trace the scar on her neck and is once again reminded that it no longer exists. 

It never happened. 

At least not yet.

Maybe not ever if Penelope can manage to pull herself together and complete her mission. 

“C’mon, Park. Stop hesitating,” Penelope says, channeling the words of Hope. She does one final check of her faded Pearl Jam concert t-shirt and jeans, runs her hands through her hair, and then knocks on the dorm room door. 

A moment passes and then--

The door opens to reveal not Josie but Lizzie instead. The blonde-haired siphoner stands within the doorway, arms folded and looking as though she is the quintessential definition of ticked off.

“What do you want, Satan?” Lizzie asks with an extra level of annoyance to her voice.

“Hello, Liz.” Penelope calmly replies. “Is Josie home?”

Lizzie’s face instantly morphs into a look of utter bewilderment. “Did you just call me--”

“Pen!” Josie emerges from behind her sister and Penelope’s heart instantly swells at the sheer sight of the girl that she loves more than life itself. Although clad in a simple crimson sweater and dark denim jean combo, she looks nothing short of stunning. 

“Hey,” Penelope says as her face lights up with a smile. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks. So do you.” Josie blushes. Penelope watches as a familiar set of chocolate brown eyes work their way over her, taking in her entire look from head to toe. “Love the t-shirt.”

Penelope makes a mental note to personally thank the Tribrid the next time she sees her as she feels her cheeks flush with the tell-tale signs of embarrassment. “Someone might’ve mentioned to me that it was a favorite of yours.”

“Ugh!” Lizzie interrupts with an exasperated huff of air. “Can we please get back to what you called me? How did you know that--”

“Lizzie, not now,” Josie says. The sudden authoritative tone in her voice instantly throws both Lizzie and Penelope for a loop. They both stare at Josie for a moment, sharing a look of confusion.

“Excuse me?” 

“Just drop it, Lizzie. Okay?” Josie scoots by Lizzie and joins Penelope out in the hallway. “I’ll be back later. If dad swings by can you cover for me? Tell him I’m at the library working on that anatomy of a vampire essay he assigned us last week. Or something else along those lines.” 

“Yeah. Fine,” Lizzie mutters, still very much thrown off by Josie’s sudden dominance, and then retreats back into their dorm room and shuts the door. 

Josie turns back towards Penelope and spots the look upon her face. “Everything all right?”

“Okay… Who are you and what have you done with Josie?” Penelope playfully responds causing Josie to laugh. 

“You know you’re not the only one who can turn over a new leaf.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup.” Josie pops the ‘P’ and then flashes Penelope a smirk of her own for added effect. 

“Good to know.” 

“So,” Josie says taking hold of Penelope’s arm and linking it with hers. “Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see.” Penelope matches Josie’s smirk and gently pulls Josie’s body a little bit closer to hers. “You ready?”

Josie nods, leaning into Penelope until they fit together like two puzzle pieces.“Lead the way.”

__________

“I still don’t get why I had to close my eyes,” Josie says a little while later as Penelope carefully leads the taller girl out through the attic window and onto the roof. “I know where we are.”

“The location is not the surprise, Jojo.” Penelope positions Josie in a secure spot and then reaches back through the window with her arm while making sure to keep her eyes on Josie. 

“Can I open them now?”

“Just… One… Second… More…” Penelope gropes around with her hand for a moment or two and then suddenly stops as the flick of a light switch cuts through the night air. “There… Go ahead and open them.”

Penelope holds her breath and watches as Josie slowly opens her eyes and gets her first glimpse at their surroundings. 

It had taken some advanced level magic and last-minute help from both MG and Hope, but somehow Penelope managed to recreate the same exact fairy garden that Josie had surprised her with on her birthday all those years ago. 

The lights… The picnic blanket… Every last detail, a perfect mirror image.

“Pen… Is this…”

“The fairy garden. Yeah. It is… Or at least as close to it as I could get.” 

Josie slowly moves around the roof fully checking it out, in slight disbelief. “But how?”

“A good witch never reveals her secrets,” Penelope replies with a smirk. “You like it?”

Josie nods. “I love it.”

“Good.” Penelope gently reaches out and takes hold of Josie’s hand, leading the taller girl to join her on the blanket. The two sit down and Penelope pulls out a bottle of wine from the nearby basket. “I know you usually like red over white, but this is all I could get my hands on given the last minute notice.” 

Josie laughs in mild amusement. “You got us a bottle of wine?”

“And maybe some aged gouda too… And those buttery crackers that your dad likes to hide on the top shelf of the pantry behind the canned lima beans… Oh, and wait until you see the best part,” Penelope rambles on as she uncorks the wine and pours Josie a glass. 

“I can’t believe you did this. We were just supposed to be hanging out, Pen.”

“And we are… See?” Penelope motions to their surroundings with her free hand. “It just so happens to involve a little extra decor and snacks, that’s all.”

Josie hums a response and then takes a sip of her wine as the two sit side by side, enjoying the stillness of the night. 

And for the briefest of moments, Penelope lets herself forget. No hidden motives or lingering secrets. Just Josie and her. Sitting together in their favorite spot and basking in each other’s radiance.

But then the moment passes and the flood of memories crashes back down upon Penelope. She closes her eyes and swallows the dry lump of emotions building within the back of her throat. 

“What are you thinking?” Josie asks.

Penelope inhales and then forces a smile back on her face. “Nothing.”

“Pen…” Josie scoots over next to Penelope until the entire length of their bodies are touching. She gently places her hand down on Penelope’s thigh and gives it a squeeze. “It’s not nothing… You’ve got your deep thoughts wrinkle. Right there. On your forehead above your right eyebrows.” 

“My deep in thought wrinkle?” Penelope lets out a laugh as Josie gives her an adamant nod.

“Yup. Right…” Josie leans in closer and with a feather-like touch, traces the wrinkle upon Penelope’s forehead. “There.” 

Penelope’s heart rate to instantaneously skyrocket from the sudden touch as she’s hit with the overwhelming urge to kiss Josie. It’s a simple move. One that her 16-year-old self wouldn’t think twice about making. And yet… 

“This is my favorite memory,” Penelope says with an underlying raw honesty to her voice. 

“Memory?” 

“Yeah.” Penelope swallows down her emotions once again and then runs her hand through her hair. “Not of us sitting on the roof, but of my birthday. The one where my parents stood me up and you surprised me with the indoor fairy garden in your room. It’s my favorite memory.”

“Of us?” 

Penelope shakes her head and then looks up at the blanket of stars above them. “Not just of us. It’s my favorite memory of my life… I know, cheesy right? But it’s the only thing that has helped me get through the past few ye-- months. I don’t know… There’s just something about it. How you went out of your way to surprise me, even though I was being stubborn and told you I didn’t want you to do anything for my birthday. You somehow just knew what I needed the most… That memory reminds me that no matter how much I fuck up or how horrible life gets there was at least one moment in my life where someone truly loved me.”

Penelope holds her breath and continues to stare up at the sky as a deafening silence all but engulfs them. 

Too much. 

Too much, too soon.

Josie says she wants honesty, but… 

Honesty comes at a price and more often than not, it’s one that most people aren’t willing to pay. 

And Penelope more than knows this from years upon years of first-hand experience.

At the end of the day, no one really wants honesty… 

What they really want is the reassurance that everything will be okay… 

Even if it’s a lie. 

“Penelope,” Josie’s voice cuts through Penelope’s thoughts as she feels the all too familiar sensation of a hand upon her cheek. She quickly blinks back the tears pooling up in the corners of her eyes and exhales. “Penelope, look at me.”

Penelope slowly brings her gaze back down from the sky until her eyes meet Josie’s. They stare at one another for a moment or two as the world around them seems to all but fade away, and then--

Josie leans in and seizes Penelope’s lips, pouring out a lifetime worth of raw emotions as she does. 

It takes a second for Penelope’s brain to process what is transpiring, but then she kisses back, matching the siphoner’s intensity. She snakes her hands into Josie’s soft chocolate brown locks and pulls her closer, desperate for more contact. 

God, how she’s missed this.

Penelope goes to deepen the kiss but suddenly Josie pulls back, breaking them apart. 

“I’m sorry…” Josie starts to say as a look of pure fear whirls within the depths of her eyes. “I can’t…”

“Jojo…” Penelope goes to reach for Josie’s hand, but it’s too late. Josie is already up on her feet and hastily making her way back towards the window.

“I can’t do this.” 

And with those words, Josie disappears back into the attic, leaving Penelope all alone with nothing but her endless amounts of conflicting thoughts and regrets. 

__________  

An hour later and Penelope finds herself in Alaric’s office, scouring the bookshelves for his secret stash of whiskey. 

She had lingered up on the roof alone for a while, just staring up at the star and fighting tooth and nail not to give way to the tsunami of tears, but then it had gotten too cold. So Penelope had headed to the one place where she knew no one would come looking for her… and also, so happened to be the only place on campus where she knew for certain she would be able to find something suitable enough to help her drown her sorrows.

Breaking into Alaric’s office had been surprisingly easy. Too easy. But then again, after years worth of breaking and entering, there wasn’t a lock on the face of the earth that Penelope couldn’t crack… especially with a little-- or a lot-- of magic. 

“C’mon…” Penelope mutters under her breath as she pulls back book after book. “It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

Penelope reaches for a rather large looking textbook on the end of the shelf and suddenly--

CLICK.

A hidden door swings open on the bottom panel of the bookshelf, revealing a secret stash of alcohol. 

“Yes! Thank you, Dr. Saltzman, for being such a predictable lush.” Penelope snatches up a bottle of fireball whiskey and then starts to head back towards the office door when a picture frame sitting on the desk catches her eye. She moves closer to investigate and is instantly hit with an invisible sucker punch straight to her stomach.

The picture in the frame is of Caroline.

Penelope puts down the bottle of whiskey on the desk and trades it out for the picture frame instead. She makes her way over towards the cracked leather couch, unable to pull her eyes away from the photo. 

“Hi…” Penelope exhales. She continues to stare for a moment or two longer and then--

Tears.

Two distinct trails flow freely from Penelope’s eyes as the dam breaks and the tidal wave of emotions that she’s been working so hard to hold back finally burst through. She sobs uncontrollably until her body shakes from the sheet weight of the last two days. 

“God, I wish you were here so you could tell me what to do,” Penelope says as the tears subside and she’s finally able to catch her breath. “Cause I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this.” 

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 15: Raven (IV)

Fuck.

She’s dreaming.

That’s the only logical explanation for it.

It’s a dream.

A fucking amazing dream.

A deep moan cuts through the stillness of the bedroom, instantly pulling Raven out of her head and back into the reality of the moment. She feels Octavia’s hands move underneath her shirt and make their way up to her bra-clad chest, hungrily exploring every inch of her flesh in the process. 

This can’t be real.

Can it?

Octavia kissed her. Right after she had worked up the courage and confessed her Hiroshima sized secret. In Murphy’s backyard. Under the large oak tree.

That kiss had been real.

She’s sure of it. 

But everything since that moment… 

The numerous other kisses. 

The hasty exit from the party with an Uber back to the Griffin house. And the sheer amount of physical contact that was all-consuming as they stumbled their way into the house, up the stairs, and into Octavia’s bedroom…

None of that could possibly be real.

“Is this okay?” Octavia asks. She holds the clasp of Raven’s bra in her hands, itching to undo it, but waits for permission as if also not quite 100% sure what is transpiring between the two of them. 

Raven nods. “Yeah.” 

Octavia matches the Latina’s nod and then, like a kid on Christmas morning, hastily unclasps the bra. She grabs hold the hem of Raven’s shirt and helps to pull it up over her head, removing both articles of clothing in the process. 

“You’re beautiful.” The words escape Octavia’s lips so innocent and pure as she gets her first real look at Raven and Raven’s heart swells with an abundance of love mixed with raw lust.

God, please let this be real.

Raven reaches for the bottom of Octavia’s shirt, but Octavia suddenly stops her. 

“I’ve…” Fear flashes deep within Octavia’s eyes. “I’ve never…”

“It’s okay,” Raven replies. She gently reaches up and cups Octavia’s face with her hands, locking their eyes together. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“No, I want to, it’s just…” Octavia glances down at her chest and then back up at Raven. “Would you be okay if I left my bra on? I just don’t feel comfortable with…” 

Octavia’s words trail off, almost as if the younger girl is too terrified to say the rest out loud. She instead just stares at Raven, eyes silently screaming for some sort of acceptance and understanding. 

And Raven gets it.

Deep down inside, she always has. 

“I’m okay with whatever you want, O.” Raven then watches as the fear and hesitation slowly dissipate from Octavia’s face. 

“Okay.” Octavia nods. 

Raven gingerly reaches back down and helps Octavia out of her shirt, leaving the younger girl in nothing but her sports bra and jeans. She’s seen the girl in much less countless times before, but never quite in this light before and suddenly it’s as if all of the oxygen has been sucked right out of the room. Raven can’t seem to breathe, let alone find her words. 

O is nothing short of spectacular. 

“Rae?” 

Raven swallows down the lump of emotions bubbling up in the back of her throat and smiles. “You’re amazing.” 

It takes a moment for the word to register with Octavia but then her face lights up with an ear to ear grin as a hint of tears appears within the corner of her eyes. “I am?”

And Raven answers the question by pulling Octavia in for another kiss. She pours her emotions into it, as the two proceed to fumble their way towards the bed, unzipping zippers and shedding the rest of their clothing as they do. 

Octavia momentarily breaks their kiss and pushes Raven down onto the bed. She crawls on top of Raven, legs flanking hips on either side and then produces a devilish smirk. “Tell me what you want?”

No, this can’t be real.

There’s just no way.

“You,” Raven responds without missing a beat. “All of you.”

And that’s all Octavia needs to hear. She descends upon Raven’s body, savagely attacking every ounce of flesh with an excruciating barrage of nips mixed with kisses, working her way downwards inch by inch.

“Oh, God…” Raven says as a tidal wave of pleasure crashes down upon her, setting her core on fire. She can feel Octavia smirk against her hip bone before continuing on down until she reaches the one spot where Raven needs her the most. 

Raven throws her head back as her hands snake their way into Octavia’s ponytail, gently nudging her to go even deeper and Octavia happily obliges, doubling down on her efforts. She squeezes her eyes shut as she feels herself jettisoning towards the edge at a break-neck speed and silently prays that this moment never to end.

Please god… Let this real. 

Please.

__________ 

“Rae?”

Raven’s eyes open to the surprising sight of Clarke lingering within her hospital room doorway. She blinks once… and then again for added measure, not 100% believing the sight before her.

Must be the drugs.

That’s it.

The drugs and her sheer and utter exhaustion from the events of the last few hours. 

It can’t be Clarke. 

By herself. 

It just can’t be.

“Clarke?” Raven responds, voice still hoarse from being intubated.

“Hey.” Clarke pauses for a moment as she seems to struggle with what to say next. “Abby mentioned that you were allowed visitors, so I just thought… I can come back later, though, if you aren’t feeling up for it.”

Raven blinks for the third time not fully sure yet how she should answer that question.

It’s Clarke.

Her so-called best friend on the face of the entire planet.

Of course, she wants her there. But…

After the events of that night… And the subsequent fallout between Raven and practically everyone who she had considered to be vital in her life, her friendship with Clarke had been virtually non-existent at best. There had never been an epic, knock-down-drag-out fight. Nor even an honest conversation about what had-- and more importantly hadn’t-- transpired. 

No.

There had just been silence. 

And that had all but killed her inside.

It was as if she had woken up one day and everyone had suddenly forgotten about her very existence. No more texts. Or calls. Or even random conversations in between classes.

Although no one ever admitted to Raven’s face what had caused this abrupt exile, deep down she knew the reason. The rumors had spread like wildfire throughout the entire population of their school. Some true and some… 

Some she wished she had never heard, to begin with.

Unlike O, Raven and Clarke had never officially stopped being friends. At least not to the outside world. After Lexa left, Clarke simply withdrew from life in general, so it had made logical sense that there had been a shift in their day-to-day dynamics. 

As time passed and Clarke slowly returned to life-- or at least attempting to go through the motions of it-- Raven found that their friendship never quite bounced back to where it had once been. Sure, they talked and occasionally hung out whenever they could make their schedule align, but something was always off between them. 

The perpetual elephant in the room.

The one that neither one of them dared to every address…

Clarke starts to inch backward out the door, taking the silence as a signal to leave, when suddenly--

“Wait!” Raven goes to push herself up in the bed and instantly winces in pain. She grits her teeth and swallows back down a fresh set of tears pooling up in the corners of her eyes. 

“Rae? Are you--”

“It’s okay. Stay. Please,” Raven interrupts Clarke, stopping the blonde dead in her tracks. 

“Okay.” Clarke carefully makes her way into the room and pulls up a chair next to the bed, never once breaking eye contact. 

Raven tries to read Clarke but there’s nothing there… Not even the slightest of hints as to what emotions are bubbling beneath the surface. 

She used to be able to read Clarke with nothing more than a quick glance. But, then again, that was back when Clarke didn’t hide behind six feet thick impenetrable walls.

“Where’s O? Thought she was in here with you?” Clarke asks.

“They.”

Clarke quirks her head to the side for a brief moment but then slowly gives a nod as if to say she gets it.

“They were but I sent them to hunt down some vending machines for snacks. Think they needed a breather,” Raven responds. “You know how they get in this place.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“And Mama G didn’t help much either.”

“What did Abby do now?”

“Oh, you know… The usual. She took one look at O and went nuclear. Kinda like she used to do with you back when she would catch Lexa sneaking out of your bedroom.”

A slight bittersweet smile expands across Clarke’s lips. “Let me guess. It was the hair, wasn’t it?”

“Think it was more the up and disappearing into thin air but yeah the hair didn’t help. And then I added fuel to the fire by correcting her on their pronouns…”

“How’d that go?”

“How’d you think?” Raven replies with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Great. That’s going to be a fun one to deal with.” Clarke lets out a sigh, runs her hands through her mess of curls and then Raven watches as her face subtly shifts, exposing a crack in her emotionless facade. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Not like I’ve got anywhere better to be,” Raven says with a shrug.

Clarke nods again as yet another crack emerges. A bigger one than the last. “Are you okay?”

“Are any of us?” 

The question lingers between the two of them for a moment or two, then—

“I don’t know,” Clarke whispers. A single tear rolls down her cheek as she shakes her head and stares at Raven. Her rock-solid facade crumbles and finally Raven gets a glimpse of the old Clarke. 

The Clarke who had been by her side through all those fucked up years of dealing with her degenerate mother and the ever-revolving door of abusive boyfriends. The one who remembered to pack an extra peanut butter and banana sandwich in her lunchbox because more often than not, Raven was sent to school without a lunch. The one who always seemed to know when something was up with Raven even though Raven would swear up and down that everything was fine. 

It’s her best friend.

It’s Clarke.

A matching set of tears starts to whelm up in Raven’s eyes but she quickly blinks them back. 

No more tears. 

Not now.

Not when there’s a two-ton elephant still lurking in the corner of the room.

But where to start?

So much has gone unsaid between the two of them for so many years. So many truths buried beneath a mountain of superficial small-talk.  

“Anya was drunk,” Raven says matter-of-factly with a heavy exhale of air. “Or at least I think she was. There was an empty whiskey bottle on the counter when I came home this morning.” 

“Rae--”

“Anya’s got a problem, Clarke. She’s had it for a while now. It’s why she was put on leave from the force,” Raven continues on, too afraid that if she pauses now, she’ll never get the rest of it out. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Who was I supposed to tell? Lexa? You? O? I’ve got no one, Clarke.”

“That isn’t true, you could’ve--”

“Could’ve what? Said something to you? You and I haven’t really talked to one another in years. Not since--”

“The night that Lexa left,” Clarke finishes Raven’s sentence unable to hold back the raw emotions in her voice. 

“The night I slept with O.”

A momentary silence falls within the room as Raven keeps her eyes locked in on Clarke, silently urging her best friend to keep going. 

It’s time to tackle the elephant for once and for all. 

Together. 

“Do you love her?” Clarke asks.

“Them.” Raven nods. “And yeah, I do. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

“They love you too.”

“I know,” Raven says with a sigh. “But they needed to learn to love themselves first, you know?”

“Yeah. I do.” Clarke responds and then pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts. “What about Anya?”

“I love her. I really do. She was there for me when no one else, you know? No judgments. Just there. Which is more than I can say for pretty much anyone else I know. But, if I’m being 100% honest with myself, I’m not in love with her. At least not in the way that I am with O.” 

Clarke nods as a look of understanding appears within her crystal blue eyes. “Rae, I’m so sorry. We should’ve--”

“We should’ve what? Tried talking?” Raven says with a smirk. “C’mon… You and I both know we’re way too stubborn for that.”

“We’re idiots, huh?” Clarke laughs.  

“Speak for yourself. I’m a freakin’ genius,” Raven responds back with a matching laugh. 

“God, I’ve missed you.”

Raven’s smile widens. She reaches out for Clarke’s hand and without missing a beat, Clarke takes hold of it, entwining their fingers as she does. “Missed you too, Griff… I’ve missed you too.” 

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 6

“I'm gonna paint you by numbers and color you in

If things go right we can frame it and put you on a wall

And it's so hard to say it but I've been here before

Now I'll surrender up my heart and swap it for yours”

-- Lego House, Ed Sheeran

__________

BEEP.

BEEP.

BEEP.

“Fuck,” Penelope grumbles, face down in a mound of pillows. “Turn off freakin’ your phone, Mikaelson!”

Penelope waits for a minute or two, but the alarm keeps on beeping. 

“Ugh!” Penelope flings the comforter off of herself and is hit dead on with the sudden realization of where exactly she is. This isn’t Hope’s bedroom from their apartment, but it’s her dorm room instead. She must’ve fallen asleep last night and never left.

Penelope runs her hands through her tangled mess of hair and takes a moment to collect herself. She once again notices the incessant beeping and looks around the room for its source. There, beside the nightstand sits an alarm clock with a note addressed to her.

Penelope reaches over, hits the alarm off, and then snatches up the note. 

Pen—

Went to go train at the docks. Set my alarm so you wouldn’t sleep the whole Saturday away. Come find me when you get up.

—Hope

P.S. You snore like a full-grown mountain troll.

A small smile crawls across Penelope’s lips. “And you snore like a werewolf with sleep apnea, Furball.” 

Penelope pockets the note, then gathers up her belongings and slips out the door. She starts to move down the deserted hallway, beyond thankful that weekends at Salvatore means everyone is either sleeping in or are off-campus when suddenly--

“Pen?” 

Penelope freezes at the sound of Josie’s voice. “Shit.”

“Did you just leave Hope’s room?” Josie asks. Penelope slowly turns and spots Josie standing in the middle of the hallway, hands-on-hips, with a look of utter confusion written all over her face.

“Sorta…” 

“Sorta?” Josie responds with a quirk of her brow. She moves closer and as she does, Penelope gets a good look at the beaten-up sweatshirt that she’s wearing. 

It’s a navy Salvatore school hooded sweatshirt.

It’s her sweatshirt.

That sweatshirt had been one of Penelope’s prized possessions back when she had attended the school the first time around. It had been one of those articles of clothing that had grown on her over time until it became her go-to comfort item whenever she was feeling under the weather or didn’t want to deal with the outside world. Her metaphorical coat of armor.

Penelope had been sure that she had lost it shortly after she had broken up with Josie. One minute it had been in the pile of clothes on the floor in the corner of her dorm room and the next it was nowhere to be found. She had spent months scouring every inch of the school for her sweatshirt. Even going as far as to question Lizzie as to its whereabouts. But it never turned up. 

Not once. 

Not until this very moment. 

“Is that my sweatshirt?” Penelope questions and Josie’s face instantly ignites with a deep reddish hue. 

“Sorta…”

“Sorta?” Penelope mimics back. She can’t help but feel the beginning of a smirk form as she watches Josie grow visibly flustered.

“Okay. It is. But that’s not the point.” Josie lets out a huff and folds her arms. “Why were you in Hope’s room?”

“I’ve been searching for that sweatshirt for yea-- months now. How’d you get it?”

Josie bites her lip. “I might’ve borrowed it.”

“From my dorm room floor?” 

“Yes. Okay? I took it from your dorm room. Now, can you please stop changing the subject?” 

“I wasn’t changing the subject, Jojo.” Penelope’s smirk widens. “Just asking you a question. That’s all.” 

“Fine. I answered yours, so answer mine. Why were you in Hope’s room?”

“I…” Penelope hesitates as her mind scrambles for a believable enough excuse. 

“You promised,” Josie says softly. Her words are simple but still manage to knock the air right out of Penelope’s lungs. 

No more lies. 

But how?

Penelope swallows down her growing nerves and then runs her hands through her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as she does. “I was in Hope’s room because I accidentally passed out in her bed last night.”

“You slept with Hope?” 

“Yes.” Penelope watches as Josie’s eyebrow shoot straight up into her hairline and instantly kicks herself in the ass. “Wait. No. Not in that way. Yes, we slept together in the same bed… but that’s all we did. Sleep. Nothing else. I swear.”

“Okay…”

“I stopped by last night cause Hope needed to talk and ended up falling asleep. I didn’t mean to stay all night but guess I was more exhausted than I thought. I literally just woke up.”

“I can see that,” Josie says. Her features soften once again as she reaches forward and gently tussles Penelope’s hair. 

Penelope breathes an invisible sigh of relief. 

Half-truths. 

That’s the best she can offer at the moment. Nothing more than that. It isn’t ideal. Not by a long shot. But what other option is there?

“Is Hope okay?”

“Yeah,” Penelope replies, thankful for the slight shift in topics. “She’s fine. Just needed someone to talk through some stuff with.” 

“And does that stuff happen to involve my sister?”

“I can’t say.”

“Pen…”

“No can do, Jojo. Besides I’ve said too much already. Hope swore me to secrecy.”

Josie laughs and shakes her head in amused disbelief. “Okay who are you and what have you done with Penelope?” 

“New leaf. Remember?” Penelope matches Josie’s laugh, unable to contain her ever-growing smile. Her inner voice screams at the top of its lungs for her to seize the moment and make a move. Something bold and daring like her 16-year-old self wouldn’t hesitate to do. 

But tapping into that long-dominant side of her isn’t quite as easy as she first thought it would be. Especially not in the presence of Josie Saltzman. 

A slightly awkward silence encompasses them as Penelope watches Josie start to fidget with the frayed string to the hood of her sweatshirt. Another signature tell. One that Penelope as witnessed countless times before. Even after all of these years, she still knows every last one of them. The lip biting. The fidgeting with ends of clothing. The slight tilt of her head-- down and to the left-- whenever growing too embarrassed for words. 

All are committed to Penelope’s memory, like a secret code that only she knows how to decipher. 

“Well I oughta--”

“What are you doing tonight?” Penelope blurts out in a sudden burst of confidence. 

“Nothing really. Probably going to stay in and get a head start on our 17th-century magical artifacts essay. Why?” 

“Want to hang out?” 

“Just the two of us?” Josie asks with a hopeful spark within her chocolate brown eyes.  

“Just you and me.” 

“Sure. I’d love to.” 

“Good,” Penelope responds as she feels herself slipping back into her old cool, confident facade.  “Cause I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh really?” 

Penelope hums a vague response and then adds a smirk for added measure. 

“What is it?” Josie asks, now fully intrigued. 

“Nope. Not telling.”

“C’mon… Not even a hint?” Josie inches closer and instantly Penelope’s senses are overtaken by the distinct mixture of vanilla and orange blossoms. Josie’s signature scent. 

The one that Penelope tried to recreate for at least two good years after departing from Salvatore to no avail. 

It smells like home. 

“Nope,” Penelope replies, pausing to inhale another breath of the intoxicating aroma. “You’ll just have to wait and see… Pick you up at 6?” 

“It’s a date,” Josie says and then without warning, leans in and plants a tender kiss on Penelope’s cheek, instantly rendering the raven-haired girl utterly useless.

“A date.” Penelope manages to produce a small nod in confirmation and watches as Josie takes off down the hallway.

__________

“Fuck… Fuck… Fuck…” Penelope paces the length of her dorm room a short while later. She runs her hands through her short curls, again and again, trying her best to keep her nerves in check. 

Two hours. 

Penelope has two hours left and… Nothing. 

Not even an inkling of an idea. 

“Fuck!” Penelope stops pacing and flops down onto her bed with a heavy sigh. 

“Hey, Park… Are you in-- Whoa!” Hope says as she opens Penelope’s dorm room door and comes to a crashing halt at the scene before her. Penelope’s room has been transformed into a massive wreckage of belongings with clothes and books covering almost every inch of space. “What happened?”

Penelope sits up at the sound of Hope’s voice. “Josie Saltzman. That’s what happened.”

“Josie wrecked your room?”

“Not exactly…” Penelope falls back down once again against the bed and Hope moves to join her. 

“Okay. I’m not following… What does this have to do with Josie?”

“Josie saw me coming out of your room this morning.”

“Oh…” Hope’s eyes widen with a sudden understanding. “She didn’t think that we…”

“She did at first for like a minute but I was able to convince her that it wasn’t what she thought it was.”

“Thank god.”

“You’re telling me,” Penelope replies. “Not exactly the rumor I need running rampant around here at the moment… Especially given my circumstances.”

“So then why the Park-nado in here?”

“I asked Josie out.” Penelope exhales and runs her hands again through her hair. 

“And…?”

“And what?”

“And what else happened?” Hope responds still not fully following.

“That’s it,” Penelope says. She pulls herself off of the bed and returns to pacing the room. “I asked Josie to hang out with me tonight and made a big fucking deal about having some sort of grand plan up my sleeve and she said yes.”

“Okay… And her saying yes is a bad thing?” 

“No… Yes… Maybe…” Penelope pauses in front of her semi-empty closet and flips through the few remaining items of clothing again and again in hopes that she might’ve missed a hidden top or skirt amongst the rest of her wardrobe. “I dunno.”

“Why are you so stressed out? It’s Josie. You could show up in sweats with Chinese takeout and she would still think it was amazing.” 

“No she wouldn’t.”

Hope lets out a frustrated sigh and then pulls herself up off of the bed. She moves about the room, strategically gathering straying articles of clothing as she does. “What is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing. It’s just…” Penelope trails off as her fingers wander up towards her neck in search for her non-existing scar. “I thought I would have more time, you know?”

Hope walks over and shoves a pile of clothes into Penelope’s arms. “But you don’t. You’ve got what? Three days? So kick it into high gear, Park.” 

“I’m trying to.”

“No. You’re hiding out and making excuses.”

“Am not,” Park fires back but is only met with a hard eye roll from Hope.

“Are too… And why are you even dragging your heels in the first place on this? The Penelope Park I know sure as hell doesn’t freak out about anything… including Josie Saltzman.” 

Penelope doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she carefully looks over the clothes that Hope picked out for her, piece by piece as if she’s discovering them for the first time. Penelope stops on a pair of black leather pants and a small but noticeable smile unfolds upon her face. 

“What?” Hope asks picking up on Penelope’s sudden fascination with the pair of pants.

“These are your favorites.”

“Mine?”

“Yeah. These leather pants and a motorcycle jacket you got off of a witch in Istanbul. You wear them all the time. So much so that Caroline went and got you like four back up pairs for Christmas last year.” 

Hope can’t help but laugh as she lets this newfound piece of information settle in. “Really? Those pants?” 

Penelope nods. “The exact same pair. You stole them from my laundry pile during the first month we were living together and never gave them back.” 

“Interesting…”

“Here. Have them,” Penelope says and then tosses the pants at Hope.

“No, I couldn’t… They’re yours.”

“Take them. Besides they look way better on you than they ever did on me.” 

“Thanks,” Hope replies quietly while studying the pants. She sits back down on the bed and Penelope joins her, still holding onto the rest of the clothes. She watches Hope traces over the smooth leather with her fingers for a moment or two, knowing that the Tribrid needs time to process. 

She always does.  

And Penelope gives it to her, without hesitation. That’s just how it works with the two of them. Regardless of whether it’s the future or the past… or some hybrid in between. 

“Huh… Leather pants and a motorcycle jacket. Sounds pretty badass.”

“Oh you are,” Penelope answers with a smile. “Of course not as badass as me, but pretty damn close.”

“So what else should I know about my future self? I know you can’t tell me everything, but looks-wise… What else? Do I have any tattoos?”

“Tattoos yes. You’ve got like five… No, wait… You’ve got six. There’s the one on your left wrist that you keep hidden from view by your watch.” 

“What’s it of?”

“It’s an E and an S,” Penelope says and then sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, bracing herself for the inevitable follow up question.

“Elizabeth Saltzman…” 

Penelope nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay… What about piercings? Cause I’ve always wanted to get my septum--” 

“No!” Penelope cuts Hope off. “No septum piercing.”

“Um… I’m taking it there’s a story?”

“Oh yeah. A big one that involves a Bulgarian vampire and stolen 15th-century daylight ring and me having to magically piece your nose back together.”

“You’re joking, right?” Hope replies in sheer disbelief. 

“God do I wish I was… Just trust me on the septum piercing, okay? It’s so not worth it and you look way better without it.” 

Hope shakes her head and smiles. “Alright. I believe you. No piercings.” 

“Oh, I didn’t say that… The nipples were a great choice and also--”

“Okay, you can stop now. I’m good. Thanks,” Hope says unable to hide the sudden underlying sense of shock in her voice.

“Too much?” 

“Just a little bit, yeah.” Hope leans across Penelope and fishes out an old concert t-shirt and a pair of perfectly ripped light gray jeans. “Here. Wear these.”

“These?” Penelope asks checking out the outfit. “You sure?”

“100%. Josie has mentioned that t-shirt at least ten times in the last three months. It’s a favorite for sure.” Hope rises to her feet and stretches, cracking her neck in the process. “Okay, I need to go get up close and personal with a hot bath before my muscles start to cramp up. But you’ve got this, Park. Just show up and be your annoying, smart-ass self and everything will go great. Trust me.”

“Thanks.” Penelope gives Hope an earnest smile and Hope returns it with a firm nod.

“Sure thing.” 

Penelope waits until Hope disappears through the dorm room door, before getting up off of her bed and walking over to the full-length mirror. She holds the outfit up against her body and gives herself a long, hard look. 

“I’ve got this,” Penelope says and then exhales, expelling the last of her fears and doubts in the process. 

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 14: O (IV)

Why is this so freakin’ hard?

Everyone else makes it look so easy. They laugh and smile as if they don’t have a single care in the entire world. No worries. No second guesses. No invisible itch that they can’t seem to scratch.

They seem to just exist.

But how?

How does everyone else do it?  

Octavia takes a long sip of her beer as she wanders aimlessly throughout the sea of seemingly happy and drunken partygoers. She’s been meandering from room to room for the last hour or so, not sure where to go or who to hang out with. Clarke and Lexa are nowhere to be found and Rae…

Octavia stops for a moment and exhales as a sudden realization crashes down upon her, bringing forth a new wave of emotions. Raw and powerful. She tries to inhale but it’s no use. It’s as if her body has forgotten how to function.   

Raven Reyes. 

Fuck.

She wants Raven. 

Octavia starts to move once again. This time, though, with a newfound purpose. She chugs her beer as she wades through the crowds and then cuts through the kitchen, exchanging it out for a fresh one as she does. 

Fuck.

Why hadn’t it occurred to her before?

It’s Raven.

It’s always been Raven.

Octavia pounds back another long swig and swallows it down along with her bubbling emotions. Her eyes scan the surrounding crowds for any signs whatsoever of the older Latina but only is met with foreign glances instead.  

But what she wants to be with Raven, then does that make her?

Gay? 

Bi?

Something else?

Octavia has never attempted to dive too deep into her own sexuality before. In all honesty, up until this very moment, she hasn’t given much thought to it at all. Those feelings-- or any feelings even remotely even within those realms-- were always just non-existent for Octavia. Like a puzzle piece that life conveniently forgot to give her. 

But now…

Fuck.

Now, it’s nothing but all-consuming.

Octavia finishes her second beer in record time. She places it down on the nearby fireplace mantel and then lets out another, deeper breath of air. Her heart pounds against her ribcage, all but drowning out the rest of the sounds around her.

But what if Raven doesn’t feel the same way?

She’s with Finn.

Right?

And before Finn, there had been a brief stint with a douchebag of a guy from St. Mark’s named Wick. 

Octavia runs her hands over her ponytail as her skin starts to itch once again. It’s faint, but it’s there nonetheless. 

God, where’s Clarke?

Clarke would know…  

She always knows.

Especially when it comes to Raven.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

She needs air.

Octavia doubles back through the kitchen, making a beeline straight for the sliding glass door. She bursts out of the house and doesn’t stop until she reaches the far edges of the yard. 

“Fuck,” Octavia exhales and then sucks in a fresh breath of crisp night air.

“O?”

Octavia practically jumps out of her skin at the sound of Raven’s voice. She turns around and is met with a familiar set of all-knowing chocolate brown eyes staring right back at her. 

Fuck.

Raven sits alone against the base of a trunk of a massive oak tree nursing a beer. Although heavily cloaked by shadow of the night, Octavia swears there's a slight hint of tears in the corner of her eyes, ready to start falling at any given second.

It’s got to be the moonlight… 

The moonlight and her eyes playing tricks on her. 

That’s it.

It can’t be tears. 

Not twice in one day.

“Rae. Shit,” O says collecting herself. She moves over towards the tree and takes a seat next to Raven. “Why aren’t you inside?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” Raven responds and there’s something unusual about the tone in her voice that throws Octavia for a loop. It lacks the normal cool confidence and swagger that the taller Latina is notorious for. 

“Where’s Clarke?” 

“Last I left her she was getting up close and personal with Senor Cuervos.”

“Body shots?”

“Oh yeah,” Raven responds widening her eyes a bit on the last word for added effect. She takes a sip of her beer and lets out an unorthodox heavy sigh. It’s all so odd to Octavia. As if for the first time ever she is getting a glimpse into the stripped-down version of Raven. The one that spends most of the time hiding behind a rock-solid facade of sarcastic remarks and cocky smirks. “And Finn was first one in line.”

“Finn?” 

Raven throws back another swig and gives the slightest of nods. “Finn.”

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Depend on what you’re asking.”

“Finn… Did you guys… Did you and him…”

“Breakup?” Raven finishes Octavia’s words for her without even missing a beat. “Yeah. We did.” 

“Oh…”

“Yeah. I told him something that I recently discovered about myself and let’s just say that he didn’t take it all that well.”

Octavia stares at Raven for a moment or two, desperate for an inkling-- even the smallest of ones-- as to what Raven is referring to.

Discovered?

Raven discovered something?

Something about herself? 

Something that made Finn break up with her?

Could it be…

Octavia sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as the next question bubbles up from deep inside of her. It lingers on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but she hesitates, allowing her overwhelming sense of fear to take control instead. 

“O?”

“Huh?” Octavia snaps out of her thoughts and suddenly realizes that Raven is staring at her. “Sorry, I—“

“I’m gay. That’s what I told Finn.”

Those two words all but blindside Octavia, knocking the wind right out of her lungs. Her mind fights against a sudden avalanche of conflicting thoughts, desperate to stay within the moment. 

“How?” The question tumbles out of Octavia’s mouth before she realizes what exactly she’s saying. 

“How?” Raven asks back with a harsh laugh. 

“That’s not… I meant… How did you… ” Octavia shrinks a bit into herself as her cheeks ignite with a fierce scarlet hue. “How did you know?”

Raven shrugs. “Not sure really. I guess the signs were there all along. Like I never enjoyed making out with Finn. It always just felt like a chore to me. Like something I was supposed to do, you know?” 

“Yeah… I do.” Octavia nods.

“But things didn’t really click into place until roughly about a month ago. The morning after Clarke’s birthday. I woke up and discovered my arms were wrapped around this amazingly wonderful human being and I don’t know… It just felt so right. Like it was the missing puzzle piece that I didn’t know I was looking for. And I knew. Then and there. That that’s who I wanted to be with.” 

Octavia swallows dump the dry lump of emotions rising in the back of her throat as her heart begins to race once again. She can feel Raven’s eye upon her… Studying her. Waiting for a sign-- any sign-- that she hasn’t just royally fucked everything up. 

Another moment or two of silence passes, then--

“Please say something,” Raven quietly whispers, voice quivering. “I need you to please say--” 

Octavia surges forward and without a second of hesitation, she kisses Raven. 

__________

O stirs awake to the foreign sensation of two arms wrapped around their torso. It’s a warmth that they’ve all but forgotten can exist within their world. The one that they’ve tried so hard for years to replicate with Lincoln, but never could quite achieve. 

They lean into it, desperate for the moment not to end.  

It’s Raven.

It has always been Raven 

Their missing puzzle piece.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

A sudden chorus of angry alarms cuts through the silence. O springs up, jostling Raven in the process, and scrambles out of the bed.

“O…”

“What’s wrong? Why is it beeping? Should I get a nurse? I should get a nurse.” O runs their hands over their topknot as they pace back and forth between the machines and the doorway. 

“O, stop…” Raven says again. 

“It’s not stopping. Why isn’t it stopping? Fuck.” O stops pacing and starts to check out the machines. “Did I loosen something? Like a wire? Shit. I pulled out a wire.”

“Stop!” O freezes, thrown off by the forcefulness in Raven’s voice. “The IV bag is empty. See?”

O’s eyes roam upwards towards the empty bag dangling at the top of the pole and then back down at the corresponding machine. A little red IV icon flashes on its monitor. 

“Push the green button twice and it’ll stop,” Raven says as she struggles to push herself up a bit in the bed. 

O does as they’re told and the alarm immediately stops. “How?”

Raven lets out a light laugh. “Haven’t you figured that out already? I’m observant, O. I pick up on things that others don’t.” 

“Sorry,” O sheepishly replies, curling back up in the nearby armchair. “I just--”

“Freaked out?”

“Yeah.”

Raven nods. “Glad to see some things never change.”

O’s stomach churches as the hidden meaning of the comment settles within them. They feel Raven’s eyes upon them… Studying them. Waiting for a response-- any response-- to the glaring elephant lurking within the room.

“Rae, I…” O stutters, avoiding eye contact at all costs. They can’t. Not right now. All it will take is one glimpse of those chocolate brown eyes and they’ll finally crumble from the weight of it all. 

They freak out.

That’s what they do. 

Always has.

And Raven knows it.

“Sorry,” Raven cuts them off. “Forget I said anything.”

O remains fixated on their beat-up pair of converse on their feet. They pick at the cracks in the rub soles, desperate for the distraction. They suddenly don’t know what to say. There’s a part of them that wants to lay it all out for Raven to see. Everything. Every last horrible indiscretion and scar from the past few years. 

But the underlying fear is just too overwhelming. 

Where do they even start? 

And what if…

What if it isn't enough? 

If their explanation falls short.

And they lose the only person that’s ever loved them… The real them.

“No. I… I deserve that.”

“O…”

“I deserve a lot more than that.” O blinks back tears forming in the corners of their eyes. They still can’t bring themselves to look up. 

It’s too much.

“I should’ve known better,” Raven says and O’s heart cracks at the raw vulnerability within those words. “I pushed you.” 

“You didn’t do anything.” 

“Not according to everyone else, remember? Bellamy… And Clarke… Hell, I know Mama G even blames me a little bit even though she’ll never admit to it.” 

“They shouldn’t,” O responds. “I kissed you.”

“Yeah, but I knew you weren’t ready. And I should’ve stopped, but…”

“But?”

“But I didn’t want to.”

O takes a deep breath and then musters up the courage to finally look up at Raven. “Me either.” 

Raven nods as a bittersweet smile slides across her lips. “I know.” 

“Rae, I--”

“I meant what I said. Earlier. About it being nice to finally meet the real you.” 

“Yeah?” O asks, trying their best to hide the utter unsureness in their voice. 

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” O’s cheeks ignite as their hand wanders up to the back of their head, rubbing the soft pelt of stubble up and down. It’s oddly comforting like an invisible reassurance that they do in fact exist. 

“You’ve gotta let everyone else see you too.” 

“But…”

“No buts… And no more hiding.” 

“I can’t… I…”

“Yes, you can.”

“But what if they don’t… If they don’t accept it?”

“It’s not about them, O,” Raven says doubling down the intensity radiating from her eyes. “It’s about you.”

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 5

“I walk through this world, just tryna be nice

They say I'll get hurt, if I'm not like ice

I know I've got friends, I still get so lonely

If I look in your eyes, I'll want you to hold me

I'm sorry that I care, care

I'm sorry that I care, care

It's really not that fair, fair

I can't help but care”

-- Feeings, Hayley Kyioko

__________

“Yo! Penelope! Wait up!” MG yells from across the dining hall as he jogs to catch up with Penelope. 

Penelope stops, letting the sea of exiting students pass by her. 

After ending their impromptu spell lesson in the woods with a literal bang, Penelope hadn’t returned to classes, opting to spend the remainder of the afternoon buried deep within the comforting stacks the library instead. Book had always been a bit of a sanctuary for her. No matter the time nor the place, they were ever constant. A reliable anchor in the chaotic sea of Penelope’s life.

Once leaving the Salvatore School and becoming nomadic, books— non-magical books— were a real luxury. Sure, there was always an abundance of ancient spell books laying around and Caroline loved to surprise Hope and Penelope every so often with an obscure text on mythical rituals and covens. But anything that fell outside of those realms was rare at best. 

The only book that Penelope had managed to keep amongst her few belongings-- besides her journal-- was a mangled copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. It had been a one-month anniversary gift from Josie. A simple paperback version so that she didn’t have to lug around her first edition hardcover copy whenever she felt like re-reading it. It was her favorite. Not only within the series but possibly out of all the books Penelope had ever read. There was just something so oddly reassuring about the story itself. The ability to go back in time and right the wrongs of the past. 

Although Penelope had had to make the gut-wrenching decision to leave the book behind-- opting to take Josie’s yellow sweater instead-- she did remember that there was a stray copy of the book hidden away deep within the school library in the section where all the modern books with pop-culture references to witchcraft lived. And after locating it, she had curled up in one of the free wingback chairs and allowed herself to get lost within its pages. 

Sure, it wasn’t the most productive use of her time-- especially given the ever-present countdown ticking away in the back of her mind-- but one that still needed nonetheless. A little extra reassurance that just maybe there would be a happier ending to their story this time around.

But after an hour or two of non-stop reading, Penelope’s hunger had gotten the best of her and she decided to wander down to the dining hall for an early dinner. And to her luck, it had been almost deserted, with only a few young students sprinkled throughout the hall. 

The plan had been to eat quick and then retreat back to the safety of her own dorm room in the hopes that maybe Josie would be true to her word and swing by later. In and out. Unnoticed. As if it were just another day at Salvatore.

And for the most part, it had been successful… Until now.

“Hey, I’ve been trying to track you down all day,” MG says slightly out of breath. “What’s going on?”

“What’d you mean?” Penelope responds, trying to mask the growing ball of nerves within her stomach. 

“What’d I mean?? Pen, you were all set to up and peace out of here last night. You swung by my room to say goodbye and yet… You’re still here. What gives? I thought you were done with this place?” 

“I changed my mind.” Penelope holds her breath and silently says a prayer that MG will accept her answer at face value rather than digging a little bit deeper. 

“You mean Josie changed your mind.” 

“No… Not exactly… I just…” Penelope fumbles over her words, but it doesn’t matter. MG’s eyes light up with an all-knowing spark regardless. 

“Ah… I knew it! I… knew… it! You two are the freakin’ modern-day Romeo and Juliette man. Star crossed lovers. Destined to be together no matter what happens and all that shit.”

“MG…” 

“No, seriously Pen. That’s you and Josie. You guys give the rest of us hope, you know?” 

“Please tell me you aren’t still hung up on Lizzie.” 

“A boy’s gotta dream,” MG responds with a bit of shrug.

Penelope sighs. She shouldn’t do it… Just let sleeping dogs lay. It will all work itself out in time. MG will meet another vampire-- a transfer student from Denmark-- during his senior year at Salvatore, fall head over heels in love and forget all about his unhealthy obsession with the blonde-haired siphoner. The two will end up getting married and even go on to have an adorable baby boy who shares MG’s infectious smile. She really shouldn’t. But--

“Piece of advice?”

“Always from you.”

“Pick a different dream.”

“But--”

“Trust me on this, MG.” Penelope reaches out and places her hand down on MG’s shoulder, locking eyes with him as she does. “Pick a different dream.”

It takes a moment to sink in but then slowly MG’s face transforms into a look of common understanding. He gives a nod in return.

“Good,” Penelope replies and offers up a sympathetic smile. It isn’t much but it’s all she can think of doing without further crossing the line. “I’ve got a mountain of reading to get through tonight, so maybe we can continue to catch up in the morning? Over breakfast?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Great.” 

“Oh, wait! Pen, there’s something else,” MG says with a sudden urgency to his voice. “It’s Hope.”

“Hope? What about her?”

“Dunno. Think she got some bad news about Landon or something. She seemed pretty choked up last I saw her. Like she had been crying. Figured you might wanna know.” 

“Shit. Malivore,” Penelope mutters under her breath.

“Maliv- What?”

“Nevermind… Thanks for the heads up.”

“Yeah, no prob--” But Penelope doesn’t wait for MG to finish his sentence before taking off out of the dining hall and diving straight back into the sea of students.

__________

“Mikaelson! Open up,” Penelope bangs against Hope’s dorm room door a few minutes later sweaty and out of breath. 

“Go away, Penelope,” Hope answers back, voice trembling with tears. 

“Not happening.” Penelope waits for a minute or two for any sign of a further response but is only met with silence. She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck.”

Penelope takes a giant step back from the dorm room door and shuts her eyes. “Aperi ianuam.”

BANG.

The dorm room door flies open and slams against the wall causing Hope to jump out of her skin. “What the fuck?! Did you just use magic to break into my room?”

“Relax,” Penelope replies. “I do it all the time… Or I used too… You get what I mean.”

Penelope crosses the threshold into Hope’s room and then mutters an incoherent phrase under her breath. The door shuts close followed by an audible click. “See? Good as new.”

“Not the point.” Hope settles herself back onto her bed. She swipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan, in an attempt to mask all traces of her tears. But it doesn’t matter. Penelope already knows. Six years of spending every single moment side by side with the Tribrid and she doesn’t need much in regards to cues. All it takes is a slight quiver on the end of a word or a brief flash of raw emotion buried deep within those golden eyes. That’s all. And Penelope can piece the rest of the puzzle together.

Every time.  

“Move,” Penelope says as she climbs onto the bed and wedges herself next to Hope. 

“What are you--”

“No seriously… Move over.” Penelope gives Hope a nudge in the ribcage with her elbow and Hope obliges. “God, you’re such a bed hog.”

Hope shoots Penelope a hard eye roll. “Am not.”

“Oh, you so are, Furball. And a mad cuddler too, but we’re not gonna get into that one right now,” Penelope replies and slumps her head against Hope’s shoulder. It’s a selfish move… Especially given that this isn’t her Hope, but at the moment, she doesn’t care. It’s been beyond a day and her skin itches with the need for just a little bit of familiarity. “Right now we’re gonna talk about why you are hiding out in here and crying.”

“I wasn’t--”

“Let’s skip bullshit, okay? You were. And it must be about something pretty big cause you brought out Mr. Bearrington.”

Hope’s eyes instantly glance towards her nightstand where a raggedy old teddy bear sits slumped over on top of a pile of textbooks. “How did you…”

“I told you, Mikaelson,” Penelope says with a hint of a smirk. “I know you.”

“God, this is so weird.”

“You’ve got no idea.” 

A momentary silence settles within the room as Hope leans over to the nightstand and scoops up the teddy bear. She rubs her fingers in methodical circles along the stuffed animal’s threadbare ear over and over again and Penelope knows that this is her cue to sit tight and wait. 

Words will come. They always do. It’s just a matter of giving Hope the proper amount of time and space needed to wade through her inner tumultuous sea of thoughts and emotions first. 

Another minute or two passes by and then--

“Okay,” Hope says, breaking the silence. She stops rubbing the teddy bear and sighs. “You’re right. I was crying.”

“About Landon?” 

“Landon?” Hope asks with a sudden quirk of her eyebrow.

“Yeah. I thought… MG mentioned that you… Wait. This isn’t about Landon?”

Hope out a bark of a laugh. “No… God no. It’s not about him… But I guess it could be. It depends on how you look at it.”

“Alright… So… If it’s not about Landon, then who…” Penelope trails off as a wave of clarity all but blindsides her. She doesn’t need to finish her sentence because she already knows the answer. 

In fact, they’ve had this same exact conversation before. Except for the first time when it happened, they had been sitting on the rooftop at 3 am in Paris and halfway through their second bottle of Jack Daniels. It had been on the night that Caroline had let it slip that Lizzie was dating someone new… A Romanian witch named Violet. 

At first, Penelope didn’t think twice about it. Caroline was always providing them with tidbits of information from the world that they once called home. And that specific comment had seemingly been no different than the rest. Just another brief update intermixed within their normal dinner conversations. 

After it was said, though, Penelope noticed that Hope’s entire demeanor had instantly changed. She seemed off with a look upon her face that was only reversed for those rare moments when her emotions were too strong to hide from the outside world. 

So Penelope did what she always did in those situations when she needed Hope to open up. She guilty tripped the Tribrid into joining her for a nightcap at a local pub and proceed to all but pour shot after shot down Hope’s throat. 

It took six shots in total. Six shots to crack through Hope’s stoic facade and finally get to the real root of the problem. Hope had indeed been thrown off by the news about Lizzie. 

But it wasn’t until four hours later when they had stumbled their way back home and ontop their apartment rooftop, did Hope reveal the full truth to Penelope. She had been head-over-heels in love with Lizzie Saltzman since she first time she had laid eyes on the blonde-haired siphoner.

The conversation that followed was one of the best-- and most honest-- conversations that the two of them ever had with each other. It had, in short, be a turning point for their relationship. The moment where they transitioned from friendship into something so much more. 

“I know you said you can’t reveal too much about the future, but can I ask you something?” 

“Sure. Anything,” Penelope responds without missing a beat.

“Do I…” Hope pauses for a moment and lets go of a breath of air. “Do I ever end up getting together with Lizzie?”

The question cuts deep. Ripping straight through Penelope’s soul. 

God, how the hell is she supposed to answer this? It’s such a simple yet complex question. 

Penelope blinks away a hint of tears from her eyes and then forces a reassuring smile upon her lips. “Let’s say that if you both had had the chance to, you and Liz would’ve been together in a heartbeat.”

“She goes by Liz?” Penelope nods and Hope matches her smile. “Liz… I like that.”

“Yeah. The name fits her… At least the future her.”

Hope slinks down a bit, resting her head against the top of Penelope’s and once again exhales. “I was crying because… I think I’m in love with Lizzie Saltzman.” 

“Oh, you are.” Penelope yawns and cuddles in closer, nuzzling up into Hope like she has done countless times before. “And she’s madly in love with you too, Mikaelson.”

“She is?”

“Without a doubt,” Penelope mumbles as her eyelids slowly succumb from the sheer emotional weight of the day. “Okay. My turn to ask you something.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Would you mind if napped here for a bit? It’s been a crazy long day and just that I can barely keep my eyes open… But if it’s too weird or strange, I can always--”

“Stop,” Hope cuts Penelope off and proceeds to reach down to the foot of the bed and grabs a blanket for the two of them. “Of course you can.”

“Thanks.”

“But if you start to snore, I’m kicking your ass out,” Hope replies with a yawn as well. 

“You’re the snorer, Furball. Not me,” Penelope whispers already half-sleep. 

Hope shakes her head with a look of amused annoyance and then wraps her arm around Penelope as she gets comfortable. “So freakin’ weird.”

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 link (HERE)

Chapter 4

“But she said, "Where'd you wanna go?

How much you wanna risk?

I'm not looking for somebody

With some superhuman gifts

Some superhero

Some fairytale bliss

Just something I can turn to

Somebody, I can kiss

I want something just like this"

-- Something Just Like This, Chainsmokers

__________

“Don’t kill me.” 

“Why?” Hope asks. She shuts her textbook just as Penelope flops down in the empty armchair next to hers. 

Penelope gives the library a quick look around and is hit with yet another crushing wave of deja vu. Nine times and counting since returning. Every inch of the school that she steps foot into seems to trigger this unsettling feeling. Like an inescapable lucid dream.  

“No reason really,” Penelope responds snapping back into the moment. She runs her hands through her hair and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “You know what… Forget I even said anything.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing… It’s no big deal. I just…” Penelope pauses to take a deep breath of air and--

“ImightveletitslipthatyoulikeLizzieSaltzman.”

“What?” Hope tilts her head, now thoroughly confused.

“I told Josie that you like Lizzie.” 

“Ok. I’m not following… Why would I think I’d care about that? It’s not a secret that I’m friends with Lizzie.”

“No.” Penelope sighs. “Not like that. Like you ‘like’ Lizzie.”

A flicker of realization sweeps across Hope’s face and then quickly is replaced with Hope’s standard look of mild annoyance. ”I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” Penelope says with a smirk.

“Really.”

“You know your left eye does this weird half-twitch thing whenever you lie, right?”

Hope doesn’t respond. Instead, she lets out a weighted sigh and shakes her head at Penelope and for the briefest of moments Penelope catches a glimpse of her Hope. The one that she could playfully bicker with for hours on end without ever crossing the line. 

A stray pang of homesickness cuts through Penelope but she quickly swallows it down. This isn’t the time nor the place for such emotions. Not when there’s so much at stake. 

“Why are we even talking about this? Shouldn’t you be over there, trying to get back into Josie’s good graces?” Hope motions towards the far side of the library and Penelope instantly spots the familiar yellow sweater. 

Josie sits at one of the long study tables accompanied by both Lizzie and MG, nose buried within a textbook. At first glance, she seems oblivious to Penelope’s existence but the longer Penelope watches, the more she notices how the siphoner tends to tilt her head upwards every few seconds or so. Not enough to fully make eye contact, but enough nonetheless. She’s more than aware. 

Penelope pulls her eyes away as her fingers once again drift upwards towards her neck, searching for the non-existing scar. “I’m working on it.”

“By sitting here with me?”

“I said I’m working on it,” Penelope repeats herself with a bit more bite to her voice. “I can’t just waltz right on over there and start talking to her.”

“Why not?” Hope asks.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously… Why can’t you?”

“Well, for starters, Blondie’s in guard dog mode which means I won’t be able to get within twenty feet of Josie without her attacking me first,” Penelope replies with an exhale of breath. She runs her hands once again through her hair and then glances back over at Josie. 

“The Penelope Park I know would never let Lizzie Saltzman get in her way… Especially not when it comes to Josie.” 

“Yeah well, the Penelope Park you know doesn’t exist anymore… And this Penelope tends to be more cautious in these kinds of situations… Especially after what she’s seen.” 

A silence falls between the two of them as Penelope can feel the all too familiar sensation of Hope’s eyes studying her. Her skin crawls from it, but she refuses to give in, instead opting to keep her focus on Josie. Penelope knows that Hope’s standard interrogation will follow next. It always does. And then usually, after exchanging a few below the belt remarks, the conversation abruptly ends with one of them storming off in order to cool down. Or, on the rare occasion or two, Hope would forgo words altogether and instead force Penelope to spar with her until every last ounce of ongoing frustration dissipates into thin air.

But Hope does neither. Instead, she simply gets up from her armchair, stretches her limbs, and then starts to head towards the other side of the library.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Penelope calls out in a sudden panic. 

“To help,” Hope responds over her shoulder and then Penelope watches as Hope sits right down in the free seat next to Lizzie. They start to exchange words and within a matter of seconds, Lizzie gets up from the table and hastily heads out of the library with Hope following right behind her. 

A small smile spreads across Penelope’s face as the realization sinks in that no matter what timeline is, Hope always has her back. 

Thank god for that.

A few moments later, MG gets up and does the same, leaving Josie all alone. 

Penelope makes her way across the library but stops herself short of just up and sitting down at Josie’s table. Instead, she stands there awkwardly waiting for a cue that her company is welcome. A moment passes. Then another… and another… But no such sign comes. Josie remains buried within her textbook seemingly oblivious to the world around her.

Then, just as Penelope starts to turn to head back to her armchair--

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” Josie asks, eyes still glued to the text in front of her.

“Yeah. I was just…” Penelope trails off as she takes a seat. 

“Acting strange again?” Josie responds. She finally looks up and Penelope catches a much-needed glimpse of those rich chocolate brown eyes. A small but noticeable smile spreads across Josie’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay? You were out for quite a while in the infirmary this morning and that letter and--”

“I’m okay,” Penelope says, stopping Josie’s ran away train of thoughts dead in its tracks. Without even thinking, she reaches across the table and grabs hold of Josie’s hand. And for the briefest of moments, Josie allows it as if there was never a thousand-foot wall between them. But then, she quickly pulls her hand back, pretending to suddenly need to re-adjust her sweater. 

“Well, you don’t seem it… You should take my advice for once and go get checked out again. There could be something seriously wrong, Pen.” 

Penelope hums a non-committal response which instantly causes Josie’s smile to morph into a scowl. She knows that she should say something else… Something more along the lines of what 16-year-old Penelope would say. But tapping into that long dominate side of herself is turning out to be harder than she ever imagined. 

“What are you reading?” Penelope reaches across the table once again grabbing hold of Josie’s textbook and starts to skim it over. 

“Stop changing the subject.” 

“I’m not,” Penelope replies. “The Obice spell? That’s an advanced level blocker… Are you reading up on defensive spells?”

“No.” Josie snatches the book back from Penelope as a sudden look of guilt flickers within her eyes. “It’s for a research paper.”

“Riiiight.”

“It is,” Josie huffs. 

A momentary silence settles between the two of them and then--

“I could show you.”

“Huh?” Josie asks. 

“The spell. I can show you how to perform it, if you’re interested.”

“You know how?”

Penelope gives a nod. “Yeah. It’s not that hard.” 

“Okay…”

“Okay.” Penelope matches Josie’s words and smiles. She rises from the table and pushes her chair in. “C’mon.”

“Now?”

“Why not? Unless you really want to go sit through two hours of Dr. Bryce lecturing about the Salem Witch trials…”

“God no.” Josie gets up from the table as well and starts to hastily pack up her belongings. “Anything but that.”

“Good.” Penelope waits for Josie to finish up and then leads the way out of the library.

 __________

“Ave, et lapis. Elementa fiet unum. Salva me ex nocere,” Josie chants out loud as she rests her palm against a nearby tree trunk. She takes a moment to center herself and then turns towards Penelope, who’s standing a few yards away. “Okay. Go for it.”

“You sure?” Penelope calls back. 

“Yes. Hit me.” 

“Sicae pluviam super faciem terrae.” Penelope says with a flick of her wrist and suddenly--

Hundreds of branches snap off of the surrounding trees and sail through the air straight towards Josie. They inch closer and closer as Penelope watches on, eyes fixated on what seems to be a random area 10 feet directly above Josie’s head. 

“C’mon… C’mon…” Penelope mutters under her breath as the sticks pick up speed.

20 feet… 

15 feet… 

10 feet… 

“Shit!” Penelope’s hands jut out into the air. “Adolebitque in cineres abit!” 

Josie braces for impact but to her surprise, nothing happens. She glances up in confusion and notices that all of the sticks are now frozen in mid-air and fully engulfed in flames. A light shower of ashes fall down around her, blanketing everything in sight. 

“How did you…” Josie says in sheer and utter awe as Penelope quickly jogs over to her.

“Are you alright?” Penelope asks, ignoring Josie’s question for the moment. She scans Josie head to toe, checking for any sign at all of potential injuries. 

“Yeah. I’m fine…” Josie checks herself as well and then takes another look around at the falling ashes. “What spell was that?” 

“Lasracha. It’s an ancient Celtic spell created by a coven of rogue witches. Apparently they were big pyromaniacs or something like that.”

“And what does it do?”

“Mainly sets fire to anything you cast it at... But sometimes it can cause a minor explosion if you perform it under the right circumstances,” Penelope responds and instantly regrets it. It’s too much information. 

“So… You just happen to know an ancient Celtic fire spell?” Josie asks with a new level of underlying skepticism to her voice. Penelope swallows down the dry lump in her throat, runs her hands through her hair, and then produces a nonchalant shrug.

“Doesn’t everyone?” 

“Pen…” 

“What?” Penelope replies, trying her best to maintain her composure. 

“You promised.”

Penelope sighs. “I learned it from an old family friend two years ago. We were visiting Milan and somehow found ourselves in a situation where we needed to start a fire and fast. Anyway, she used Lasracha and it worked. So I made her teach it to me. Figured it might come in handy one of these days.”

Penelope holds her breath as she feels Josie’s eyes upon her. It isn’t a full lie. More like a half-truth if anything at all. 

Caroline, Hope, and her had indeed been visiting Milan. And they had wound up in a situation that required the use of Lasracha. But there had also been a rabid pack of Orges and a brutal battle that had left Hope with a ten inch scar running down the length of her right shoulder blade and Penelope with a 3rd degree burn on her upper left thigh. If it hadn’t been for Caroline’s quick thinking with the use of Laracha on the Orges, they wouldn’t have escaped the situation at all.

But those are details better left unsaid because it would only lead to more questions… Questions that Penelope merely can’t afford to answer. 

“Could you teach it to me?” Josie asks snapping Penelope back into the moment. 

“You?” 

“Yes, me.”

“The same girl who turned me into a human torch just a few months ago? Yeah… Don’t think so.” 

“It was an accident.”

“That cost me six inches of hair,” Penelope replies and motions up to her short, messy locks for added effect. 

“You should be thanking me.” Josie inches forward and Penelope’s brain all but short circuits. She openly stares, allowing herself to momentarily get lost within those chocolate brown orbs as Josie ever so gently reaches up and brushes a stray curl off of her cheek. “It’s way sexier this way.”

“Do you…” Penelope shudders as she tries to speak, but her words are nowhere to be found. “Do you want to…”

“Do I want to what?” Josie lets out a warm laugh. She draws her fingers down the side of Penelope’s cheek, lingering for a moment on the edge of her chin before pulling away. Penelope shuts her eyes and exhales. There are thousands upon thousands of ways she could answer that question. Her wants-- especially when it comes to Josie Saltzman-- are seemingly infinite. 

But raw honesty isn’t as simple as it first appears. 

Penelope inhales another deep breath of air. “Let’s try the spell again. I’ve got an idea.”

Josie tilts her head in sudden confusion. “Okay…”

“Here.” Penelope re-positions Josie away from the tree trunk and instead into a nearby clearing. “The spell didn’t work because the tree wasn’t a strong enough source. You need to siphon from something more powerful.”

“Right, but there isn’t anything--”

But before Josie can finish her sentence, Penelope takes hold of her hand and interlocks their fingers together. “There’s me.” 

“What?” Josie’s eyes dart down to their hands and then back up at Penelope. “No. I can’t… What if I hurt you?”

“You’re not going to hurt me, Jojo. Promise.”

Josie gives a small nod in confirmation, never once taking her eyes off of Penelope. She tightens her hold on Penelope’s hand and suddenly--

Penelope gasps. Every nerve in her body instantaneously ignites with a foreign tingling sensation. It grows from a mild annoyance to virtually unbearable within milliseconds. Penelope grits her teeth and fights against the urge to pull her hand away. Pain is unfortunately an all too familiar old friend.

“Ave, et lapis. Elementa fiet unum. Salva me ex nocere.” Penelope vaguely makes out the words as they tumble from Josie’s lips and then--

BAM.

The world goes black.

__________

“Pen… Pen… Please Pen…” 

Penelope rapidly blinks her eyes as the afternoon sunlight all but blinds her. A fresh wave of pain radiates outwards from the back of her skull and suddenly she realizes that she is no longer standing up, but is now laying on the ground instead.

“Fuck Jojo…” Penelope mutters with another hard blink. “Forgot how good you are at making me see stars.”

Two soft hands descend upon Penelope’s cheeks and Penelope can’t help but lean into the touch. God, how she has missed this. 

“You scared me,” Josie says, letting out a wet bark of a laugh. “I… I thought…”

Penelope pushes herself up a bit and gently places her hand over Josie’s, rubbing comforting circles with her thumb as she does. “Hey… It’s okay… I’m okay.”

Josie nods, but Penelope still sees a hint of lingering doubts within her eyes. 

“Jo… I mean it.” Penelope slowly leans in and rests her forehead against Josie’s. “I’m 100% okay.”

Josie closes her eyes, swallows back down the lump of emotions, and nods once again, this time with a deeper conviction. “Okay.”

Penelope matches Josie’s nod. “Good.”

And time seems to suddenly stand still. Penelope breathes in a slow, methodical rhythm, wordlessly nudging Josie to follow her lead. In and out… In and out… Until their bodies move as one. 

“JOSIE!!!!” 

Josie and Penelope instantly fall out of sync as the sound of Lizzie’s voice bellows out from the nearby woods. 

“Shit. She sounds--”

“Unhinged?” Penelope says with a slightly devilish smirk. 

“No. I was going to say upset.” Josie playfully pushes Penelope backwards, breaking their connection. She rises to her feet, dusts herself off, and then extends Penelope her hand. “I should go see what’s going on… You going to be around later?”

“Of course.” Penelope replies. 

“JOSIE!!!!” Lizzie’s voice cuts through the air again, slightly closer than before. Josie glances in the direction of the sound and then back at Penelope with an apologetic look. “I’ll come and find you when I’m done.” 

“I’ll be waiting, Beautiful.” The pet name rolls off of Penelope’s tongue and instantly, she’s struck with a pang of regret. She braces for the inevitable backlash but surprisingly enough is met with a warm smile instead. 

“Okay.” Josie gives Penelope one last nod and then takes off, disappearing into the dense wall of trees.

Penelope watches, waiting until Josie is completely out of sight before letting go of the breath of air she’s been holding onto. “Fuck me.”