#; * ! fight 'cause you don't know how to die quietly ( musings. ) ;

[writercole]

Try Again

Summary: Feelings don't die without a fight. Words: 1069 Warnings: Fluff A/N: I loved writing this one so much.

The heat of San Diego was hard to handle but it was something Beau Simpson had become accustomed to in his time serving at North Island. Right now, though, the heat building inside him had a different cause. The sight of his ex-wife, the woman he had reconnected with just a few months ago, the only woman who could ever tempt him to leave the Navy, was standing just a few feet away under a gazebo with none other than Pete Mitchell, the biggest troublemaker on base and the biggest thorn in his side.

She knew his feelings towards the man; she’d known how he felt about the insufferable pilot since before they divorced, before they married. The amount of messes that Beau had to clean up from the headstrong, reckless pilot outnumbered the amount of times he’d bought flowers for his wife in the ten years they were together. Though, maybe that wasn’t something to brag about.

As he watched the exchange from beneath the shaded overhang of the building, his brain reminded him of everything he’d ever loved about her. Her willingness to go along with any plan, her incredible ideas when it came to design and engineering, and the biggest heart he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. The gazebo she was standing under was a volunteer project for the local high school, something set up so that teachers could have a place outside to work on lesson plans in peace.

The moment Mitchell’s arms wrapped around her, he began moving, hurrying across the parking lot where he’d just come from speaking to the principal about the NJROTC program. Mitchell slipped out of the backside of the structure, not sparing a glance in the Admiral’s direction as he approached.

Beau stopped at the entrance of the gazebo and slipped his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to turn around instead of announcing himself. He watched quietly as she packed up her supplies, humming to herself, a sign she was lost in her own thoughts. Beau smiled as he watched her, his heart pounding in his chest while his mind reeled with memories of the two of them together years ago, before the end of their romance.

“Beau,” she gasped, pulling him out of his musings and back to the present.

“Hey, Kitten,” he greeted, his voice low.

“I didn’t know you were here. I…I didn’t think…” she trailed off, her eyes locked onto his.

Beau could see something swimming behind her eyes. Maybe it’s the memories of our divorce, he theorized. “How are you?”

“Uh, good. I’m good. How are you, Bobo?”

The old nickname made him chuckle while making his heart squeeze in his chest. He didn’t realize how much he missed her until his eyes landed on her moments ago. “I’ve been better,” he answered honestly. “Can I, uh, give you a hand?”

“It’s just clean up. You don’t have to,” she shrugged.

“I didn’t ask because I feel obligated. I’d like to actually talk to you, see what you’ve been up to the last fifteen years. Find out how you ended up here.”

She studied him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed. With a sigh, she said, “okay. I’d ask what you’d been doing but I can see it’s been all work, Admiral. Some things don’t change.”

Beau ducked his head momentarily before raising it slightly, looking her in the eyes. “I know I messed up with us. And I will forever regret it. But how did you end up back here?”

“An old friend called in a favor. Her sister teaches here and they passed the project at the last school board meeting. Penny knew that I had the skills they wanted and then some so she called me.”

“And you came.”

“Yeah. Penny even sent a few of the locals to give me a hand. Including her boyfriend.”

“So you did the project with Mitchell today?”

“Mitch - Pete? Yeah, why?”

“No reason. I just didn’t realize you knew him that well.”

“I don’t. He’s Penny’s boyfriend.”

It was at that moment that everything clicked into place for Beau. He remembered that Penny had a history with one of the pilots on base and that he’d heard all about the way the guy kept showing up and disappearing. He didn’t realize at that time that it was the same pilot he’d been cleaning up after.

“You look like the light bulb just went off,” she chuckled smugly, stacking boxes of tools near the doorway.

“It did, actually. Somehow I never put two and two together that your Penny was the Penny Benjamin of The Hard Deck, the one who had been involved off and on with Pete Mitchell, thorn in my side for twenty years,” he agreed.

“I didn’t realize that’s who that was, either.” Her eyes were wide with amusement as her hand covered her mouth, trying to suppress the giggles.

“If, uh, if you’re not busy tonight, would you like to have dinner? With me?” he blurted, unable to contain the urge to spend more time with her.

Her eyes met his and searched, her head tilted as she watched him. He kept eye contact, his gaze softening the longer he stared. He wouldn’t let her know that he’d all but stopped breathing while he waited for her answer, toes tapping the inside of his shoe to keep himself from fidgeting outwardly.

“Will you cook for me, Bobo?”

“Kitten, I’ll do anything you want.”

“There’s no girlfriend or wife to be worried about, is there?”

“Uh, no,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “There hasn’t been anyone serious since you.”

“For me, either,” she admitted as she closed the gap between them. “I never stopped loving you, missing you.”

“No one could ever compare to you. Kitten, will you give me another chance?”

“Will you chase me if I leave this time?”

“Baby, I will follow you to the ends of the earth, Navy court martial be damned.” He reached for her, his hand wrapping her waist and tugging her close. Before she could react, his lips were on hers, kissing her with the pent up longing and realization that came with age. In that moment, they were one again, a team, together against the world.

He vowed then and there that she’d never doubt the way he needed her, wanted her, ever again.

[mistrdctr]

@ssolessurvivor asked: Logan often gets overly emotional after they share a night together, but nothing hits him worse than when he knows he has to leave, to let Stephen have his day ahead of him. "I don't know if I ever told you." Logan muses, speaking quietly against the sheets with his hair splayed against the pillow, gazing into those eyes. "Thank you, for saving my life those years ago." A hand has gone on Stephen's cheek and his thumb idly strokes the skin there. "I know you were a different man, but I wanted you to know. Thank you." He's almost sheepishly blushing now, leaning into the pillow though his multi-colored eye still holds his love's gaze.

The sun is barely out yet, leaving the bedroom in some sort of almost-but-not-quite darkness, the first rays of light shining in through the big windows to the right; Stephen is facing the one who he is sharing his bed with at the very moment, eyes still a little heavy-lidded from sleep but very much awake already.

They are sharing some soft kisses, some innocent touches - a cheek is covered by a soft palm, and scarred fingers trail along the shape of a shoulder in return - when Logan speaks, breaking the silence between them that has existed for a while now---

---And Strange blinks, stopping his movements as a hint of surprise crosses is barely-lit features.

He has to think about it, to realize what the younger speaks about - he does not get it, not at first, which causes his dark brows to knit for a second as confusion sets in, bright eyes flicking along the blonde's features in search for an answer, before, finally, a set of full lips part in realization.

Logan. The young man in front of him - Stephen knows him.

He knows him from back in the day when he has been working as a neurosurgeon still; Asked to attend a very complicated emergency surgery that needed to be done on a severely injured patient coming straight from space, a man who was the only survivor of a true desaster having happened back on that moon Mimas---

Now, suddenly, just like that, everything makes a lot of sense.

The scars make sense, scattered all along that handsome man's body. His reactions to seeing Stephen in varying states of roughness make sense. The feeling of already having met him before - that also makes sense now. A lot.

And the sorcerer blinks, brows lifted in surprise, feeling a sudden wave of guilt and shame flooding him like a tidal wave; How did he not think about... this? How did he not realize that this man, this soul, is the very same one he's operated on a long time ago, together with other well-known surgeons, fighting hard to keep him alive and not have him die on their table?

"...Logan, I...", he starts, momentarily unsure how to proceed. A pause follows, scarred fingers now making their way to a beautiful face, cupping a cheek in return while his thumb traces the shape of a cheekbone. "---I'm sorry I... didn't realize that you--- I... I just didn't think---"

He should have, but Strange did not. How long did Logan know about him having been one of the doctors...?

Blinking again, a set of bight eyes closing momentarily, the sorcerer shifts a bit closer - then lifts his chin, just so that he is able to press a soft kiss against the blonde's forehead, allowing it to linger for a few seconds.

"...I'm just a stupid dumbass sometimes. I knew you felt familiar, in a way, seeing your face - I just never connected the dots. It's been a while..."

That he is. Will always be, no matter how many titles he manages to gain in his life, no matter whether he will ever end up as a sorcerer supreme or some shit. He's still Stephen, still the man he always used to be, albeit changed. In some parts, at least.

"And please - don't thank me. I swore an oath to cause no harm. It was my job to try my very best to keep you alive - and to make sure your injuries were treated."

Lips separate themselves from the other's forehead, the tip of a nose brushing against Logan's own, eyes remaining closed.

"---I'm so glad you're here, and that you... recovered. That you made it." It's a whisper, but it is deeply heartfelt and sincere as it slips from between Strange's teeth, breathed out into the small space between them.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 761

999 - Words

Gifs NOT Mine.

If either gif is yours please let me know, so I can give you credit.

Gif credit goes to - Unknown & @edsgazebos

Year posted - 2021

----

Jogging through the entrance of the Cave (Y/n) skidded to a halt, standing before the boys, who momentarily froze in their tracks. "Well well well look who it is." David mused with a grin, while (Y/n) moved further into the hotel. "I need your help." She panted a little out of breath from running. "With?" David tilted his head, Marco and Paul circling her. "I'm being hunted." She licked her lips, rolling her eyes when David laughed. "And what could we possibly do about that?" He grinned at her. "Cut the shit David, I know what you are. What you all are." (Y/n) looked to her left, where Paul had perched himself on the fountain. "I don't know what you're talking about." David practically hissed. "David please, no one else will stand a chance against this thing... But you four... You can save me." (Y/n) took methodical steps towards David until she stood between his knees. "I'm begging you David, help me." Her voice was almost a whisper, and the annoyed look in David's eyes washed away. "Please." Her voice cracked. "What do we get in return?" David smiled up at her, adjusting himself in the wheelchair, trapping (Y/n) between his thighs. "Whatever you want." (Y/n) responded with very little hesitation, causing laughter to erupt from the boys. "Whatever we want huh?" David tilted his head a little, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "Yes whatever you want." She nodded her head, positive in her offer. "That could be dangerous for you." David clarified teasingly. "Look I'm far more afraid of it'll do to me, rather than whatever you'll want as payment for saving me." (Y/n) sighed, and for a moment she thought David might deny her. "What is it, and why is it hunting you?" David asked the four of them highly curious about what they would be up against. "It's hard to explain... It's some creature from outer space... It can shape shift, it knows your deepest darkest fears. And to top it off, it eats humans." (Y/n) frowned when the boys laughed. "We eat humans." Marco pointed out with a snicker. "You feed on the blood, it feeds on the flesh and bones... And it prefers when you're afraid, the fear is like... Well it's like added flavor to it." (Y/n) explained, swallowing thickly. "And it wants me dead for nearly killing it a few years ago, it was supposed to stay in a hibernated state for the next 27 years, but it woke up way earlier than it was supposed to." (Y/n) bit her lip for a second, as worry pooled in her belly. "How should we protect you?" Dwayne asked. "Well in a lot of ways it acts like an animal... So maybe... Maybe you could ward it off..." (Y/n) shrugged, still standing between David's legs. "How?" Paul tilted his head. "Scent marking maybe, I don't know you're the supernatural creatures here not me." (Y/n) took a step forward, gasping in surprise when David pulled her back, forcing her to sit on his lap. "And if that doesn't work?" David asked while nuzzling his face into (Y/n)'s neck, marking her with his scent like she had suggested. "I-I don't know, you'll probably have to fight it." (Y/n) stammered, her heart rate increasing a little.

Dwayne tapped David's shoulder, before whispering into the blondes ear. Whatever it was Dwayne had said made David chuckle with a nod, and once David waved him off he moved to speak to Marco and Paul. "Dwayne has offered a suggestion." David mused as he toyed with a strand of (Y/n)'s hair. "And that would be?" (Y/n) asked with a curious tilt of her head. "We could truly mark you as our own." David grinned mischievously. "How?" She pressed for an answer. "We’ll get you pregnant." David stated casually, his words causing (Y/n) to freeze up. "With the child of a vampire in your womb, it might just get the message and fuck off." Dwayne explained, (Y/n) sat there in a state of shock, while David nuzzled and nipped at (Y/n)'s neck. "And if it doesn't?" (Y/n) asked. "Then we'll tear it apart, piece by piece." David growled lowly. "And the child?" She asked, swallowing the excessive saliva in her mouth. "We'll keep it, and you as our payment." David hummed as he tilt (Y/n)'s head back, looking her in the eyes. "You'll be our mate." He whispered, their lips nearly touching. "Will I have to turn?" (Y/n) asked. "Eventually." David hummed. "O-okay I-I'll do it." (Y/n) stammered quietly, moaning softly when David connected their lips. "You sure about this?" David whispered quietly against her lips. "I don't want to die... And spending the rest of all time with you four... Well that doesn't sound half bad." (Y/n) grinned softly, pulling David in for another kiss. "And the feeding?" David asked when they pulled away for air. "I never really liked people anyways." (Y/n) giggled when David rose to his feet, holding her against his body by her ass. "We've got a long night ahead of us boys, and (Y/n) here is gonna keep us entertained." David chuckled excitedly, while the boys whooped with excitement. "I mean we could just turn you now, and maybe that would keep it at bay, but I imagine it would only start a fight... But if it is like an animal maybe it will back off if you're with child." David shrugged with a cheeky grin. "Besides making you our mate would have been the payment anyways." He winked before tossing (Y/n) to Dwayne, who caught her with ease. "I know that's why I agreed." (Y/n) winked before smashing her lips against Dwayne's, giggling into the needy kiss when he groped her ass, her bold admittance making David laugh.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 62)

Plans

Sorry for the delay but better late than never! This is a pretty long chapter so hopefully that makes up for it. Warning for use and mention of alcohol abuse. 

Tagging @emily-strange and @actuallyhansolo ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

The night it all fell to shit was a weird one. It was like we were hanging in some kind of dysfunctional family limbo. Dutch left the tent where Micah was still fighting to stay alive against all the odds, and he glared at our little group of black sheep from across the camp. We'd grown in numbers, though, even if we weren't all sitting together in a posse, people were with us in spirit. Kieran and Mary-Beth had come over to see how Arthur was doing, and to make it very clear that they were firmly with us; they didn't trust Micah, never had and never would. They couldn't comprehend how Dutch was acting the way he was. 

Lenny showed his support not through words, but by silently stopping by and patting Arthur on the shoulder, nodding at him once. Karen was blind drunk but she yelled at Dutch's closed tent, chanting the words 'snake' and 'die' before Bill dragged her away and deposited her on her bed roll. In fact, Bill and Javier looked like they were the only ones who had outright sided with Dutch, and I wasn't sure if they actually believed that Arthur and the rest of us were traitors, or if they were just siding with him out of blind loyalty. Javier kept looking over at us, something like regret and confusion in his eyes but whatever he was feeling obviously wasn't strong enough to have him leave Dutch's side. Bill, though… Bill was just full of contempt and whatever he believed, it certainly wasn't any conclusion he'd drawn himself. 

Everyone else was just tiptoeing around, not seeming to firmly align themselves with anyone. These were the people who openly sympathised with Arthur and made it clear they didn't believe that any of us were the rat, but also joined Dutch at the table outside his tent where he was smoking a cigar – looking dark and pensive, miles away and stewing within a thick black cloud – to offer him similar words of comfort. The likes of Reverend Swanson, Pearson and Tilly. Even Miss Grimshaw, who seemed a little conflicted about the time she poured into nursing Micah, she didn't condemn either side. She just marched around with a perpetual sad frown, reeling at the way the family she'd tried so hard to keep moving crumbled around her. 

I felt terrible. But it could all have been avoided if Dutch hadn't been so twisted by Micah. If he'd just listened to the people that mattered the most, his 'sons'. But it seemed he'd picked his side. Though I did wonder what would happen if… or when Micah succumbed to his injury. 

"I think we should go," Arthur murmured to me quietly, as he pushed his stew around his plate. It was odd eating dinner at such a time, but there was still plenty of stew left in Pearson's pot and nobody wanted to let his hard work go to waste. Limbo. A weird feeling of normality caked in tension. Like when a marriage is breaking down but both parties are still trying to plod along, going through the motions. 

I looked up at him immediately from where I sat on the bed next to him. "Now?"

Arthur met my eyes. "Well, there's nothing left here," he said. I pondered his words. It was funny. For weeks and weeks I'd longed to hear him say that, to get a concrete agreement that we were to leave and get away together. But now that it was served to me on a platter, I felt so odd.

"You don't want to see if Micah pulls through?" I questioned. 

"I… I'm with Charles. I don't think he'll pull through," he breathed, looking back down at the plate.

"No, but," I began, not knowing where I was going. 

"You don't want to leave?" His question wasn't judgemental or annoyed. 

"Yes, I do. This just feels so surreal. So sudden. It almost feels like it'd be wrong to just pack up and leave after this has happened, like we should stay and try and sort it out somehow. Though I don't know how…"

"I know what you mean. But I'm worried about you, Micah pulled a gun on you. And I don't know what's in any of these fools' heads, there's no telling if someone's gonna try and do the same thing. And I don't know if I want to stick around and save anything that almost took you away from me, or condoned it."

I paused for a while, then finally nodded.

"Just eat up," he whispered, nodding back at me with a brooding look in his eye. "We'll start packing–"

His head jerked as something caught his eye. I followed his gaze and spotted Dutch getting up. My heart thumped painfully when for a moment I thought he was going to come over, but instead made a beeline for the horses, not looking anywhere but ahead. Without saying a word to anyone, he climbed up onto his Arabian and left. Just left. Everyone stared off in surprise, not really knowing what to say about it.

"Where's he going?" I breathed.

"I have no idea," he mused. 

"Should… should we go after him, try and talk?" I asked, meeting Arthur's eyes. He looked into mine for a while and I could see him thinking, coming to some sort of silent conclusion that made his expression sour before shaking his head sharply. 

"I don't think I wanna talk," he told me bluntly and I couldn't help but be shocked. 

"You don't even want to try? Not that I think you have an obligation to," I said softly and Arthur shrugged his shoulders with an attitude I'd never seen in him before then.

"I'm done. And I mean it. I had plenty of doubts about him before this, and now I just can't see a way of fixing things. He took Micah's word over mine. He treated you like the root cause of all our problems and he couldn't care less that Micah almost shot you," he ranted, getting progressively more pissed off. 

I looked away and thought very hard about what to say next. I was sorely tempted to say fuck it, and agree to run away with him right then and there. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not leaving the likes of Mary-Beth, Lenny, Abigail and Jack all here to suffer the consequences of whatever Dutch planned. Some people had made their mind up, but others… It was clear to me that they saw security in Dutch that they didn't have elsewhere. They were stuck.

"What if we ask around, and leave as a group with whoever wants to come?" I suggested. It wasn't the first time I'd said something like it, but this time felt different, like it was actually reasonable. That it actually might work. 

"And then what?" He asked me. 

"We'd take our things and go, find somewhere else to camp for a while, and then figure things out when we're not sitting in a camp full of people who might just want us dead," I said bluntly. His lips parted, his eyes bored into mine. The stare he gave was intense, and made me feel as though this was a turning point, a moment with huge gravitas and consequence. 

"I think… I think that'd be our best option," he quietly agreed. "But what will we do about money, Dutch has–" he stopped, remembering something, eyes casting across the camp, settling on the Marstons’ tent. "Hold on a second." 

Arthur got up, depositing his plate on the table by his bed before crossing over towards the tent. He called out for Abigail and John, and was ushered inside. I sat and waited, frowning to myself just slightly, pondering his sudden actions. 

Javier strolled past my eyeline, between Arthur's tent and the Marstons’. Without giving it much thought, I called to him. He paused, casting his gaze to me almost in surprise. He stood there for a few seconds, cigarette hanging from between his fingers, a dusting of ash floating down as the stub burnt away with his inaction. He looked at me expectantly, though he moved no closer. 

"Javier," I sighed sadly, shaking my head, "surely you don't trust a word Micah says. How could you? You know exactly what he's like–-"

"I don't," he told me bluntly. "I think he's full of crap," he shrugged his shoulders.

"So why are you acting like Arthur and John and the rest of us are the villains?"

"I… I don't… think that," he stammered, losing some of his conviction, speaking very hesitantly. "This situation, muñequita… this is messed up. But all I know is that you guys aren't being loyal to Dutch. And that matters to me."

"Why Dutch? Why should we be blind-loyal to Dutch when he doesn't care about us?" I frowned deeply, aggravated by his expectancy. 

"He cares. Dutch always cares."

"He's pouring all our resources into saving a man who was about to shoot me in the face. He doesn't give a rat's ass about me, or Arthur. Because if I was killed in this camp, you know it would destroy him, the guilt he would feel–" I shook my head abruptly. "Dutch has never liked me. And that's fine, I don't care, but Arthur and I– we love each other. We're in this for the long haul. But Dutch doesn't want to see Arthur happy."

"He doesn't wanna lose Arthur to you. And that's exactly what's happened; Arthur wants to leave this gang to be with you, and you think Dutch should be perfectly happy about that?"

"If he saw Arthur as a son rather than a well trained gun, an asset to his criminal gang, then yes. He should be perfectly happy about him wanting to get out of this dangerous world and settle down," I answered bluntly, shrugging my shoulders and looking at him like I couldn't for a moment understand why he didn't see it.

"Criminal gang? That's the way you see us all?" He cocked his brow, finally taking a number of steps towards me. 

"Not at the start. At the start you were all so hopeful and free. Now you're a bunch of penned in animals, lashing out and doing anything and everything to survive with no thought to anyone but yourselves. And this ain't an insult, though you'll surely take it as such. This is what Dutch's decision-making has done," I answered, keeping my eyes on his and not backing down. Javier was good. I knew he was. He was just being led into the fire by a smooth-talking egoist. 

Javier was quiet for some time, twitching a little, his jaw clenched tight. He did not want to listen. 

"Dutch saved me. He gave me hope when I had nothing, put food in my belly, shelter over my head, safety. Without him, I would not be the man I am today. I may not even be alive," he shrugged cluelessly, "and you want me to abandon him?"

"I don't want you to do anything," I sighed, finally breaking eye contact. "This is your decision to make."

"Listen, I–" he began, voice softening. "I always liked you. When Micah told us today about you and the Pinkertons, sure, I had my doubts about you. Now, I… I don't believe you're working against us. You have no motive, especially since you and Arthur…" he trailed off, sighing. 

I looked up at him again, waiting for him to make his point, though he took his time.

"But I cannot betray Dutch. I can't leave him, not now, not when he is the reason we're all still alive."

I almost told him that he was also the reason why we had to run so fast, always pushing his luck, killing Cornwall, Bronte, robbing banks in huge cities, inserting himself into a fight that wasn't ours with Eagle Flies and making things worse for them. Pissing people off left and right and acting as the ringmaster for the world's deadliest circus. 

“Where did Dutch go, anyway?” I asked, instead.

“Said he needed to clear his head. He’s really hurt, you know,” he told me and I was so close to rolling my eyes.

"He had his chance to listen to us but–” I began, then trailed off, “what's the use? I can't change your mind, Javier. I just hope things turn out right for you," I sighed. 

His lips parted, but he didn't know what to say. Eventually, he dropped his wasted cigarette and then carried on walking.

Arthur came out of the Marstons’ tent just a moment later, an edgy, agitated but somehow hopeful look about him. He came to me, immediately beginning to gather his things from around the tent, putting them away in his chest. I watched him with a confused frown, lips hanging open, about to ask him what was happening when he told me anyway. 

"We're going. Us, with those three," he told me very quietly, but in a rushed, urgent tone of voice. 

"Now?" I got up abruptly. 

"Yes. We gotta move while… while Dutch's gone. It'll be easier," he told me, "maybe some folk'll come with us. Would you do me a favour, princess?"

"Of course, anything," I blinked at him, stunned. 

"While I'm packing up, you go out there and you… you talk to anyone who's on our side, okay? You see if they want out. And you tell 'em to pack up."

"Wait, how is this gonna work?" 

"Abigail–" he began, realising he was at full volume before dialling it down, "Abigail knows where all our money is. She's got a key, she stole it while everyone was distracted, when Micah was telling his pack of lies about you. She felt like things was gonna blow up, and she was right. We got a key to all the money, every penny we been putting away for safekeeping," he rose up and closed the space between us. He cupped my face, his eyes were bright and alive, truly, for the first time I'd seen in a while. 

"So, what, are we gonna take it?" I balked in a hiss of a whisper. 

"No, not… not all of it. But we'll take our share," he told me, then pressed his lips to mine briefly, but firmly, "we deserve some of that money, it's ours. It's ours, John's, Charles'..." He trailed off, he sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than me.

"Damn right we deserve it," I encouraged, nodding my head, "hell, I bet you put most of it in there."

"We're just gonna take enough for us, just what's fair. We ain't gonna screw the rest of 'em over. We… we…" he stammered, his eyes dropping to my mouth. I could see the light dim from his eyes and I could feel the guilt he was experiencing like it was seeping from his pores.

"Arthur, it's okay. What we're doing is okay," I whispered to him, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him tight, "Dutch ain't left us many options. It's clear his mind's made up and he don't deserve a moment more of your time. Taking a little money from the communal pot… that's the least you deserve. All them years; he's lucky this is all you're doing."

"What if he comes after us?"

"Then I'll kill the bastard myself," I said through clenched teeth. "He ain't ruining another moment. This is a good thing, baby, this is… this is the moment. The right time, what we've been waiting for."

"You're right," he breathed, turning his head towards my hair and inhaling my scent. 

"Come on. Keep packing, I'll go speak to the others," I said. 

"Abigail's gonna sneak in and get the money. She knows where it is, it's in that cave," he told me so quietly that even I struggled to hear. I pulled away from his embrace and nodded. I kissed him once more, then exited the tent. 

I scanned the whole camp, my eyes landing on Charles where he was on guard duty. It seemed so strange, again, that the menial jobs people did day to day were still being carried out. I guessed that people were just trying to cling on to normality. I sped over to him first, catching his attention when I was a few places away, he turned to look at me and grew tense at the urgency in my gait. 

"Charles," I breathed, reaching him and touching his arm, glancing around once before continuing, "Arthur and I; we're getting out of here. The Marston's too. I ain't asking you to pick a side, I will never judge you for your decision, but–"

"Of course I'll come. You needn't ask," he told me in his no nonsense tone, tilting his head up slightly in a small display of pride and loyalty. A smile broke across my face. 

"Well then," I breathed with a laugh, "I suggest you gather your things. We ain't lingering."

"Of course," he nodded.

"And will you tell Sadie? Give her the same option to get out of here? Anyone who you think might wanna come," I requested and he nodded again.

"So this is really happening? We're splitting the gang?" 

"What gang?" I grunted, turning and looking at the tattered ashes of what was left. Charles said nothing, but I knew that he saw it too. He patted my shoulder twice, and then headed off. 

Of the gang members left, there were few I wanted to ask. Some were far too loyal to Dutch; obviously the likes of Javier and Bill, others I just weren't close to. I never spoke to Strauss or Reverend Swanson; even Uncle, I didn't know any of them well enough to entertain the idea of asking. I figured Arthur would ask those sorts of people if he felt it was the right thing to do. It interested me to see that some people were already packing, though I knew they hadn't been asked yet. I assumed it was a case of fleeing the sinking ship. Pearson was one of those people, Trelawny – a man who seemed to come and go like the rain – was another. Mary-Beth was too, though she was doing it kind of slowly and subtly as if she didn't want people to notice that was what she was doing. Kieran helped her. 

I made my way over to the girls' wagon, where Karen slept, Tilly woefully held her head in her hands, and Mary-Beth quietly folded away clothes and trinkets into a case around the side.

"Ladies, may I… could I speak with you?" I asked, watching as Karen groggily lifted her head, and Tilly looked up. Mary-Beth hummed her acknowledgement but didn't stop what she was doing. 

"Arthur and I think it's best we move along, given the circumstances," I began softly, timidly. Tilly gave a humourless laugh. 

"You think?" She queried. It wasn't mean-spirited. It was just tired and sad and disappointed. She was taking it hard. 

"And we figured we'd ask folk if they wanna come too. The Marstons think it's a good idea too. I don't want this to seem like I'm asking y'all to pick a side, but I want to give you an option for if… if you don't wanna stay here no more. You ain't stuck," I continued, meeting Mary-Beth's eyes. Her lips parted and she was stunned, hesitant.

Karen grunted and slumped back down on her bedroll, ignoring the suggestion for the most part. I looked at Tilly. She stared off distantly, her mouth slightly pursed. I waited for her to say something, half expecting some anger or upset similar to that of Javier's, I thought she was just as loyal to Dutch as he was.

"I'm not going with you. But I ain't sticking around here neither," she told me, striking me full of surprise. "Things just went too far today, people pointing guns at each other, accusing everyone of everything, this ain't no place for nobody. Listen, I'm glad you have a way out of here. And I'm glad that that little boy does too," she pushed herself to her feet and pointed in the direction of the Marstons' tent. "But I… I don't think I want any part of this no more."

I nodded slowly. "I understand. Tilly, all I want is for people to do the right thing for themselves. And I want them to be safe. If you think leaving all of this behind is the right thing for you, then I'm fully behind you. You've been kind to me, just like everybody else. I appreciate the time I've known you," I told her carefully. She fidgeted a little on her feet, but nodded. 

"Thank you, I– I wish nothin' but the best for you and Arthur," she told me, then with a final nod she disappeared around the wagon. I presumed she was gathering her things. 

"I knew it," Karen slurred, her cheek pressed into the ground. "I knew she was outta here. Jus' like you, and jus' like Mary-Beth," she added. I couldn't help but frown a little, and Mary-Beth met my eyes, but Karen chuckled drunkenly. "I don't blame a single one of you. Get out before this thing kills you." 

"What'll you do, Karen?" I asked, sitting down beside her. She lifted herself up, propped up on her elbows. 

"Me? Don't worry 'bout me. I got places I can go," she told me, a dizzy smile on her face. She didn't seem to be bogged down by the gravity of the situation. The booze was to thank for that, of course. 

"Like where?"

"I don' know. Places. I'll be fine." 

"I'm worried about you," I admitted, remembering how my mother got when she drank too much. The scene before me looked too familiar for comfort.

"Y'all keep saying that. Stop it. Let me live my life," she muttered. I knew from experience there was no reasoning with a person in this state. No way to make them realise their self destruction. 

"You're welcome to come with us, Karen, if you wanna get out of here," I assured her, patting her shoulder.

"I'm with Tilly," she muttered, "this whole thing's a mess and you can run off as a group but you'll fall apart too. Ain't nothing you can do. Nothin' ever lasts," she cried out bitterly, her face screwed up in a wince that was full of anger and pain and I thought of Sean. I thought of the fact that she was clearly close to him and I thought of how things began to fall apart along with his death. I was choked up. I cleared my throat and brushed a loose ringlet from Karen's face and she peered up at me like she didn't know how to respond. 

"I'm so sorry, Karen," I whispered. 

"For what, what'chu done?" She asked. I simply shook my head. 

"I'm sorry that things have fallen apart," I added.

"Can't be helped," she sighed, reaching up and squeezing my hand. I was never particularly close to Karen, so the act warmed my heart. 

"Um, may I speak with you?" Mary-Beth squeaked like a mouse above us, gingerly edging towards me and looking at me with concerned, arched brows. 

"Of course," I nodded, then rose to my feet after giving Karen's hand a squeeze back. I followed Mary-Beth away from listening ears until she turned around and stood before me, fiddling with her fingers. 

"I'm so sorry, but I can't come with you," she blurted out, and I already began to shake my head, holding my hands out reassuringly, but she continued anyway, "you know Kieran and I? We– I promised him–"

"Mary-Beth, it's okay. I ain't asking anyone in a bid to make 'em feel like they gotta. You have your own plans. I'm glad," I smiled at her. 

"You sure? It's not that I don't trust you and Arthur and the others to keep everyone safe, it's just…" she trailed off and sighed, looking across the camp to where Kieran was. I put my hand on her shoulder.

"I know. You go and be with him. I know how you're feeling; take your chance to get away and build your life together while you still can," I told her, then opened my arms and let her decide if she wanted to hug me. She did. She closed the gap between us and squeezed me tight, rubbing my shoulders. 

I felt like I wanted to cry. Why did this feel like a goodbye? More than just a goodbye for now, but a permanent one? I swallowed back the sudden wave of emotion I felt and patted her back a couple times before we parted. She offered me a small smile and took my hands in hers. 

"I hope you build the prettiest of lives. We all deserve a little happiness, don't you think?" She told me quietly, and I nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah, I think we do," I whispered. She squeezed my hands, then headed back towards the wagon to continue her packing. 

I exhaled and turned around to look at the state the camp was left in. It was full of people packing up; a scene that wasn't by any means new or different, it'd happened time and time again already. But the fact that people were packing for themselves this time… there was no sense of community, or togetherness. It felt like an ending. A dissolving of a family that once was so strong; it was heartbreaking, but somehow inevitable. Once there was differing ideas and loyalties pulled in different directions, things would change. And they changed in the most destructive of ways; with Micah laying shivering and sweating and close to death, with Dutch running off alone and abandoning the camp for the first time ever, with the majority of people deciding that it was too late to salvage anything. Deterioration until there was nothing but a scattered collection of parts left to make the best of things. 

All because of Micah Bell.

[savage-rhi]

Ok, this is gonna be an odd request but .. I wanna see Jill & Leon from RE and "laughter: my muse hears your muse laughing uncontrollably and approaches to see if they are okay.", 'cause they are my bbys and I miss them. Especially Jill, like... She disappeared from the franchise for so long I don't even.

Coming right up you sweet mother fucker :D!

Jill wasn’t sure what to make of the sounds coming from Leon’s room, but concern entered her mind. She ventured up to the second floor where he was at, peering through the cracked door as he was sitting down seemingly playing a video game to pass the time.

“Leon?” Jill called out quietly, not wanting to disturb him but at the same time, she was worried. 

“Hey.” He called out, his voice barely above a whisper. This was the first time the agent said anything since what happened to Chris. 

Leon turned around, giving a small smile. His eyes were bloodshot. Jill could tell between crying and lack of sleep, Leon was rattled. He gestured for her to join him, which she quietly did. There was a mutual silence between them as Leon jerked around with the controls of the remote, keeping his gaze focused on the game. It was an old school retro game, pixelated and all. Something Jill remembered Chris playing before in the Raccoon Police Department on break. 

“He always told me this was a fun one,” Leon admitted as Jill glanced over, her brows furrowing. 

“It’s a damn shame we never got to play it. I always told him maybe someday but--you know, work.” 

“Leon, what happened to Chris wasn’t your fault.” Jill reassured him as Leon let out a chuckle, sounding morose as he sniffled. She had never seen him so depressed before. It was almost out of character for how strong he normally was. Then again, much like Chris, Leon was only human after all. 

“Leon, maybe you should take a break and come down. You haven’t been alright since the funeral.”

“I took him away from you. You both had started a life, and I fucked up.” Leon proclaimed as he sat the controller down, allowing his character to die in the game. As soon as the game over notification turned up, Leon’s lip quivered as he brought a hand up to his face, sobbing into his palm. 

Jill shook her head, murmuring ‘no’ repeatedly as she wrapped her arms around Leon’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. She found herself crying too, though she was quieter in comparison to the whimpers that escaped from Leon’s mouth. 

“It wasn’t your fault--no one saw it coming. The B.O.W., it was too strong. You almost died too. I’m glad one of you made it.” Jill said, trying to give Leon some form of comfort in the mess. She missed Chris terribly, and Jill wouldn’t be lying if she didn’t blame Leon at first, but as news of the mission broke out, Jill knew better. No one was to blame. It was a risk they all carried with their jobs fighting terrorists and bio-organic weapons. Chris paid the price for doing a job he was passionate about. She tried to remind herself of that every day. 

“It’s okay Leon, it’s gonna be okay.” Jill reassured him as they both held onto each other, wishing Chris was there with them both right now. He’d know what to do. 

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