#'do you have trouble breathing on your back' *me with anesthesia already pushed and in my system* 'hwell ow at i an-'

[xviruserrorx]

I will say one of the funniest parts of this last hospital stay was accidentally frazzling my nurses and doctors on accident

[fruitcoops]

Wisdom With Age

Follow-up to Leo getting his wisdom teeth out: it’s Loops’ turn! Hope you enjoy :) Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for dental work, wisdom teeth removal, anesthesia, and surgery (mentioned)

Sirius carefully, but firmly, set his hand on Remus’ knee to stop it from bouncing. “Sorry,” Remus muttered, then immediately began worrying at the hem of his old t-shirt.

“Okay,” Sirius said under his breath, turning in his seat and taking both of Remus’ hands in his own. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

“I don’t like this,” Remus muttered as his eyes flickered up to Sirius’ face. “Honey, I really don’t like this.”

“I know, but you have to do it.”

“Why? They’re my teeth, it’s my mouth, and is it such a bad thing if I don’t want people poking around in it?” The leg started bouncing again. “I mean, humans survived for thousands of years with their wisdom teeth, and—and teeth serve a lot of very important purposes besides chewing. This could fuck up my ears, and my hearing—”

“Remus.”

He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw.

Sirius began tracing slow circles over his knuckles. “You know better than anyone why this is important, and it’s dangerous to keep them in any longer than you already have. I totally respect that you’re freaked out right now, but you’ve got to calm down. These guys do this all the time.”

“There are always exceptions.”

Yes, I know, I’ve been thinking about all those scenarios for the past two weeks. “And you won’t be one of them. How long did you spend finding this place, again?” There was a beat of silence. “Re.”

“Four hours,” he muttered.

“Exactly. You did your research.” Remus’ eyes wandered up to the clock and his grip tightened when he saw how little time was left until their appointment. Distraction, distraction—“Tell me why you chose this place.”

That got his attention. “What?”

“You spent four hours sifting through dentists’ offices online, right? Tell me why this one stood out to you.”

“Um. Well, I guess it was just a combination of things. They have really good ratings and this is where Leo got his out, which went well. He was on his feet within a week, which was impressive. The equipment is good quality and—”

“Remus Lupin?”

“Oh, fuck me.” The nurse raised her eyebrows at him, and he flushed deep red as Sirius hid a smile in his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Hi, that’s me. Remus Lupin. I’m…a little nervous.”

Her face softened as she walked over. “That’s perfectly normal. We have a little bit of paperwork for you to look over and then we’ll get started. Is this the person who will be driving you home?”

“That’s me. How long will it take?”

“Oh, an hour or so. Not long.” She handed Remus a pen before turning back to Sirius. “We do these procedures all the time, so there’s nothing to worry about. The surgery is quick and easy.”

Remus’ hand skidded across the page on the word ‘surgery’ and Sirius squeezed his thigh gently as he took a trembling breath. “Thank you for doing this on such short notice,” Sirius said with a smile while Remus read. “We really appreciate it.”

“Why does this have to be so important?” Remus mumbled as he signed the last page.

The nurse shrugged. “Human bodies are funny things.”

He snorted. “Tell me about it.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“I was a physical therapist for six years,” he said, handing the clipboard back to her. “Unfortunately, that means I know exactly why putting this off for so long was a bad idea.”

“I don’t know about a bad idea.” The nurse tilted her head to the side. “You still came in to do it before there were any problems, right? That seems pretty smart to me, and very brave.”

“She’s right,” Sirius said quietly, knocking their shoulders together. “You’ve got this, mon loup.”

The nurse waited patiently while he took a few deep breaths before standing up and hugging Sirius tight around the chest. “You’ll be here, right?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He gave him a gentle kiss on the lips and the inside of his wrist. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

The tension returned to Remus’ shoulders as he followed the nurse out of the lobby; Sirius sat down and grabbed a magazine to distract himself for the next hour.

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

Twenty minutes later, the nurse came back out. Sirius stood up immediately as fear bolted through his chest. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” she soothed, taking the seat next to his with a sigh. “There was a bit of trouble getting him to fall asleep, though.”

“Oh?” Sirius tried to keep his voice neutral as he sat down, but even he could tell it didn’t work that well.

She gave him an amused look. “Your boy is stubborn. We get nervous people all the time, but he seemed to have a personal vendetta against our anesthesiologist. The countdown usually lasts three seconds, maximum, but I made it all the way down to five before he was out.”

“But he’s okay?”

“He’s just fine.” She patted his hand.

“He’s been avoiding this for about four years now.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Hates hospitals and dentists, but still got a medical degree.” Sirius huffed. “His mom threatened to drive here from Wisconsin and drag him in by the ear if he didn’t schedule it soon.”

The nurse smiled. “You’d be surprised by how many young folks we get in here shaking in their boots. It’s really not that bad of a procedure, but all you hear about are the times it went wrong.”

Sirius hummed in agreement. “Is it normal to be nervous for him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“Lots of people cry while they’re waiting, though I haven’t quite figured out why. Feel free to do some wailing if you think it’ll help.”

“I’ll pass, but thank you for the offer,” Sirius laughed. There were a few heartbeats of comfortable silence before he spoke again. “I don’t like the idea of him being in there all alone.”

“Oh, honey, nobody does.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze. “We always want to be there for the ones we love. Boyfriend?”

“Fiancé.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“This summer.” He smiled to himself. “I’m really excited.”

“How long have you been together?”

“We’ve known each other for six years or so, but we’ve only been dating for one.”

They chatted back and forth, and Sirius felt his nerves melt away as the conversation turned to Harry, then Regulus and Jules, until a tall man in a white coat poked his head into the lobby. “Do we have a companion for Remus Lupin in here?”

Sirius raised his hand. “That’s me.”

“Come on back, he just woke up.”

The dentist’s office smelled different than a hospital, which Sirius was grateful for. Remus wouldn’t like waking up with the scent of rubbing alcohol all around him. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow with various murals for the younger patients—each room had its own name tag with stickers.

“Remus?” The doctor knocked on the door as he opened it. “We’ve got someone here for you.”

“Hmm?” Remus blinked sleepily at them from the table; his face was puffy from anesthesia and gauze.

“Hey, Re,” Sirius said, taking his hand and rubbing it between his own. “Are you ready to go home?”

Remus squinted at him for a long moment. “Did it hurt?” he asked.

“Did what hurt?”

A smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. “When you fell from heaven. Hiya, handsome, I’m Remus.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Sirius looked back at the doctor, who was hiding his laughter in his hand.

“Here’s your aftercare sheet,” he said, pushing the wheelchair a little closer and handing Sirius a piece of paper. “Can you get him outside by yourself?”

Sirius nodded. “It might take some manhandling, but I’ll be fine.”

“Damn right, you’re fine,” Remus snorted.

“Merde,” Sirius muttered. “Alright, you shameless flirt, can you sit up by yourself?”

Remus winked at him, though it was more like a slow blink. “Might take some manhandling. What’s your name, angel?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He shrugged as Sirius helped him clamber into the wheelchair. “I need something to yell.”

“Holy shit, Re!” Sirius spluttered, nearly steering him straight into the cupboards in surprise. “You can’t just say that in the middle of a dentist’s office!”

Remus frowned and glanced around the room. “Is that where I am?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t like dentists. Or hospitals. Super fuckin’ creepy.”

“Yes, I know.” The hall was mostly empty, thank god. “You’ve told me.”

“Have we met before?” Remus stared up at him and nearly went crosseyed. “You’re being so nice to me.”

“We’ve known each other for six years.”

“Huh. I really hope we’re dating, because there’s no way I’m passing up a chance to tap that.”

“You know, Leo was incredibly sweet when his wisdom teeth got taken out,” Sirius sighed as they went down the next corridor. “He called Finn ‘pretty’ and then only wanted cuddles for a few days. You, on the other hand, were apparently so stubborn that they had to spend twenty minutes putting you to sleep, and now you’re hitting on me like a drunk frat boy.”

“I can call you pretty if you want.” Sirius stopped walking as Remus reached up to trail a surprisingly steady hand down his cheek; some of the flirty mischief was replaced by awe. “You really are beautiful. What’s your name? For real this time, I want to know.”

“Sirius.”

“Like the star.” The corners of Remus’ eyes crinkled. “Brightest one in the sky. It fits.”

“Just for that, I’m going to let you in on a secret,” Sirius said as they neared the exit.

“Oh?”

“We’re engaged.”

“What?”

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Eleven

I... about 75% of this chapter was not in the outline, and I don’t really know what to do about that fact. This completely ran away from me, but that’s ok I guess.

Characters, as always, belong to the amazing @lumosinlove and a huge thanks again to @donttouchmycarrots for proofreading!! <3

Clandestine Masterlist

CW: hospitals, injury, brief mention of blood, medical drugs

.

Leo slept. A lot.

Logan knew this was normal; their nurse had reiterated it a few times now. When he did wake up, it was only for a few dazed, confused minutes before he was pulled back under again. The confusion ebbed the more time went on, the effects of anesthesia wearing off, but the dull sheen to his eyes remained. He could fight his way through a brief conversation with him or Finn, and then he was back to sleep. It was probably for the best, Logan told himself. Better than dealing with their present situation, at least.

Finn was curled up uncomfortably in the chair beside him, also sleeping. He normally looked peaceful when he was asleep – lips slightly parted, face relaxed, on his side or stomach with one hand usually shoved under his pillow. After about a week of sharing a hotel room and a bed, Logan knew these things. It wasn’t the same now. Granted, he was in a chair instead of a bed, but still. He was curled up somewhat in a ball, with the leg in a brace stretched out and immobile – an awkward position that almost made him look like a flamingo balancing on one leg. His shoulders were tense, even in sleep, and his jaw was clenched tight. A worry line was furrowed between his eyebrows, steadfastly refusing to smooth out. Logan brushed his knuckles faintly against the bruise on his cheek, plum against porcelain, and sighed. He knew he should be doing the same thing – sleeping, that is – but every time he closed his eyes… well. It wasn’t pretty. Besides, someone needed to keep an eye out. There was only so long the nurse could delay the GSW report.

It was only a matter of time before they were on the run again.

Regulus drifted in and out on occasion, checking in on them. He seemed to be on guard, constantly walking the perimeter of the hospital and keeping an eye out for familiar faces. It put Logan on edge and calmed him down at the simultaneously. He didn’t trust Regulus, not really, but he figured if he was going to sabotage them he would’ve done so already. He’d had ample opportunity, after all.

Logan glanced at the clock. They’d been here for just shy of twenty-four hours now. The sun was starting to rise again, not bringing any answers with it. Loops had been in contact, briefly. They’d received one text message that simply said “stay put” and radio silence after that. He just hoped they had a good plan. Even better if it was safe, too, but Logan wasn’t about to push their luck… if you could even call it that.

For now, this was ok. They were together, they were alive, and they were relatively safe, for now. In that moment, listening to the steady beeps of a monitor and muffled conversations of people in the hallway outside their door and the even breathing of his partners, he couldn’t ask for much more.

***

Nate saw the scowling, intimidating group of people in the lobby and knew they were in trouble.

He had just started today’s shift, still tired from the one the day before, and was in the process of saying his usual hello to the staff working the front desk when he saw them. There were three of them – at least two of which were over six feet tall, looming and muscular and intense. One had a scar traversing down one side of his face, healed but still a beacon that screamed “don’t mess with me”. The short, scary one was right.

He’d submitted the GSW report about ten minutes ago, and here they were.

Fuck.

Nate didn’t even say goodbye to the sweet lady working the desk that day, he just backed away slowly and tried to appear normal as he pushed past the doors. As soon as they closed he broke into a run, headed straight for room 308 and stopping by the nurse’s station for a split second to grab two prescriptions before he was off again. He was almost there when he crashed into someone as he rounded a corner, only avoiding hitting the ground by two arms that snaked out to steady him. He looked up to gray eyes and a vaguely familiar face.

“Sorry.” The guy said and let go of him, frowning when he saw what was no doubt a look of panic on Nate’s face. “You ok?”

He remembered this guy now. He was with the scary short guy and the other two. He wasn’t around much, but Nate had seen him a few times when he’d been making his rounds.

“They’re here.” He blurted, hoping that he didn’t need so say anymore.

He didn’t. in the blink of an eye he was leading the way to room 308 and throwing the door open, which Nate didn’t think was the best idea. He didn’t know what these people did for a living, but it was clearly dangerous. Barging in like that probably wasn’t a good move.

Sure enough, when Nate followed Gray Eyes into the room, the short one was on his feet and had pulled a gun from somewhere, aiming it at the two of them. Gray Eyes stuck his arm out and kept Nate from going any further until Short Angry One recognized them.

Nate used to think this was a relatively safe career path. Sure he might get puked on, yelled at, mentally and emotionally eviscerated by doctors and patients and family members alike on a regular basis, but he’d never felt like his life was in danger.

Maybe he should go into accounting. Just him in an office with a bunch of numbers. Or a museum curator, surrounded by ancient artifacts and not much else. Definitely not people pointing guns at you.

Both the redhead and the blond woke up at the disturbance, one sitting up in a flash and the other just blinking sleepily and frowning in concern. Before anyone else could get a word in edgewise, Gray Eyes blurted out, “They’re here.”

The EKG readings on the monitor spiked, and then it was a flurry of motion. Short Angry One cursed under his breath and pulled Gray Eyes and Nate into the room fully, closing the door behind them. The redhead started throwing the few things they had into his pockets – a phone, some other electronic device Nate couldn’t identify, an old lock, a pen. He shoved his shoes on, unsteady on his feet, and looked to the blond, who was still in a hospital gown and watching with wide eyes. All the color that had been slowly returning to his cheeks was now gone.

Nate steeled his resolve. His job was to save lives, damnit, and that’s what he was going to do.

He jumped into action, pushing Gray Eyes out of the way and unhooking his patient from the monitors before discontinuing the IV drip and pulling the IV out, stopping the bleeding with quick pressure from his hand. “There’s an employee exit down the hall that leads to the parking garage. You guys know how to hotwire a car, by any chance? I’d offer you mine but I don’t have one.”

“I can.” Glaring down at his sling, the blond muttered, “Well. Maybe can is the wrong word.”

Nate let up on the pressure, shrugged his thin jacket off, and helped him slide his good arm through the sleeve, throwing the other side around his shoulder gently. It wouldn’t do much to help, but it was better than nothing. “Can you show someone else how to do it?”

“Maybe.” He said, moving to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and frowning when Nate stopped him. “I can walk.”

Nate smiled. Typical. “That’s what they all say. I’m going to grab a wheelchair, anyways. You’ll be faster that way.” He looked at the others in the room and continued. “I’ll lead you to the exit, but I’m afraid that’s as far as I can take you. I’ll try to find these guys and get them off your trail as best I can.”

He shoved the two prescriptions he was so glad he’d filled last night at Ginger, trying to ignore the way all of them seemed to be staring at him. “Instructions are on the labels. He needs to finish all the antibiotics. All of them.” He didn’t have time to stress the importance of preventing antibiotic resistance, but he hoped they would take his word for it. “Let me go get-”

The door opened again and they all swiveled towards it. Ginger stepped between the blond and the door while Short One raised his gun again – but he didn’t shoot. In fact he just stared for a second, then lowered his gun with a smile.

“Loops.” He said, relieved, and – what?

The three men Nate had seen earlier were ushered into the room, the tallest one slapping the brunet on the shoulder, causing him to stumble as he flipped the safety of his gun back on and stashed it in the waistline of his pants.

The one in the front with caramel colored eyes looked between their group, one eyebrow arched. “Going somewhere? I thought I told you to stay put.”

Ginger laughed incredulously, shoulders slumping. “Holy shit, Loops. We thought you were someone else.”

Gray Eyes looked at Nate, exasperation clear in his gaze. “You told me they were here.”

Nate threw his arms up in defense. “You look at those guys and tell me you wouldn’t be suspicious.” He winced and looked at the newcomers, realizing that his words might be offensive. “Sorry.”

Neither of them seemed to take it to heart. The tall one just grinned and said, in a heavily-accented voice, “We still got it, eh, Nado?”

The one with the scar – Nado, apparently – just rolled his eyes and didn’t comment, but Nate could see one side of his mouth lifting into a smile. It softened his face, made him look more like a teddy bear than the scary, intimidating guy he’d seen in the lobby.

“We’ve got a car out back.” The one called Loops said, looking to the blond with gentle, understanding eyes. “You good to go?”

He nodded firmly, no room for second-guessing. “Let’s do this.”

Now, Nate didn’t exactly think it was a good idea to move a GSW patient out of a hospital only a day after getting shot, but – judging by how the others had reacted at the thought of people coming for them – it was safer for him to leave than to stay here. His brain, after all those years of medical classes and caffeine/anxiety induced all-nighters, was screaming in horror about complications and sepsis and bone fragments, but he didn’t voice them. He just reached for a pen and paper in his pocket. He scribbled his number down and handed it to his patient. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask, ok? I’d feel much better if you at least had a nurse with you, but this’ll have to do.”

He got a warm smile in response. “Thanks,” he said, voice and eyes serious. “For everything. Not many people would do what you did for us.”

Nate blinked. “I genuinely don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but thanks?” He still didn’t know who exactly he was helping, but then again, he guessed it didn’t really matter either way. They seemed like good people dealing with a shitty situation, and that was a good enough motive for him. “I’m going to grab that wheelchair quickly and I’ll be right back.”

He should’ve known that, by the time he got back, they’d already be gone – leaving no trace except for the disheveled sheets on the bed, two chairs next to it instead of the standard one, and the still humming machines and monitors.

Nate let himself slump against the wheelchair, forearms resting against the handles.

“What the fuck,” he said, with feeling.

***

Sirius was behind the steering wheel of a very old service van, watching six of them pile into the back and Loops slide into the passenger’s seat. His eyes didn’t stray long from Regulus, though. If he’d had enough time, he would’ve tackled his younger brother in a hug. Unfortunately, they were on a bit of a tight schedule. “Petition to never have to break someone out of a hospital again.” He said wryly, putting the van into drive and searching for the exit to the maze that was this parking garage. All the while, he was sneaking glances in the rearview mirror, unable to help himself.

“Where do I sign?” Finn deadpanned from the back row, sandwiched between Logan and Leo. They looked so tired. Leo didn’t hesitate to twist in his seat a little so that he could lean into Finn’s chest and close his eyes, looking absolutely miserable. Finn shifted just slightly, pressing a barely-perceptible kiss to a bird’s nest of curls and relaxing back into his seat.

Huh.

That was… new.

But then again, was it? Sirius thought back to the past several months of this operation and found that he really wasn’t that surprised. But then there was Logan…

“Turn left here.” Remus said, pulling him out of the thoughts, calm and in control like usual. His lips turned up into a smile as he flicked his turn signal on. He could see them doing exactly this, when all the chaos was said and done. Taking a roadtrip, Sirius behind the wheel and Remus navigating, going wherever they felt like. No worries or missions, just the two of them and the black top below them. He shelved the daydreaming for later.

“Where are we going?”

Sirius’ eyes flew back to the mirror at his brother’s voice – the first time he’d head it un-obscured by a phone or earpiece in too long. He’d missed him. He’d fought so hard for him, to get him out of that mess and keep him safe, and here he was. They’d done it.

Was he a horrible person, for feeling as relieved as he did? He’d inadvertently put the Cubs through hell for mostly selfish reasons. Sure, he wanted to take the Snakes down, but that paled in comparison to the safety of his brother. He’d let the Snakes walk away scot-free if it meant Reg was safe.

He didn’t know what kind of person that made him – he was too afraid to speculate about it.

“My family has a cabin about two hours away,” Remus replied, balancing his phone with the navigation app against the center console so that Sirius could see it. “It’s empty right now, so it’s a perfect hideout until we figure out next steps.”

Finn was asleep now, too, head pillowed on Leo’s. Logan stared sightlessly out the window beside them, stonily silent. Sirius ached for him. They were kindred spirits, he and Logan. Stubborn, fierce, bleeding hearts who cared too much and shouldered more than their fair share of the responsibility when things went wrong.

And things had really gone wrong.

“What are the next steps?” Reg asked as they left the city and headed towards the interstate. “This isn’t the only backup we’ve got, right?”

“Sleep,” Kuny told Regulus, not unkindly, “had big couple of days, yes? Plan later.”

Reg looked at the tall Russian sitting next to him for a second, then sighed and turned his gaze to the window.

Sirius drove on in silence.

Two hours and eighteen minutes later, he was pulling up on a gravel driveway to a quaint, two-story cabin. The jostling of the gravel under their tires seemed to wake everyone up, according to the grumbles and yawns Sirius could hear from behind him as he finally put the van in park. The doors opened and they were all climbing out of the van, stretching stiff muscles and groaning. The ones with bags in the trunk went to unload while Remus fished his keys out of his pocket and headed for the front door, bounding up the last two steps to the porch. He was equal parts glad and upset that they were here. He was grateful that the Cubs were safe now and that this cabin was so far off the grid that the Snakes wouldn’t find them. But bringing a bunch of coworkers to the place he went to escape work stuff… jeez. Not that he didn’t like his coworkers, but sometimes he needed a break from it all. Plus this place belonged to his family. Being here with anyone but them just felt wrong.

Remus opened the door, instantly on guard when he saw the kitchen light was on. Whoever was in there must’ve heard the door because Remus could hear the refrigerator door close, then loud footsteps headed towards them. His hand drifted to his gun and he cautiously flicked the safety off.

A head peeked out from the kitchen. All-too-familiar eyes widened excitedly. “Re?”

The safety quickly went back on. “Jules?”

He wasn’t supposed to be there. Their trip wasn’t for another week-

Remus’ younger brother beamed and launched himself towards him, leaping into Remus’ arms when he got close enough with an excited shout.

“What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t make it this trip!”

“What am I – what are you doing here?” Remus shot back, tensing up when he heard footsteps behind him. “Your trip is supposed to be next week!”

“School got cancelled because of all the snow.” Jules peered around Remus at the gathering group behind him. “Who are they?”

“Jules?” The familiar voice of their mother called from down the hall. “Who are you talking to, honey?”

Oh god, this was something straight out of Remus’ nightmares. How the fuck was he supposed to explain all this to his family? The rest of their agents were supposed to drive up here tomorrow with gear and supplies and weapons for their final stand against the Snakes. That… there was no way to explain that. At all.

Fuuuuuuck.

Hope Lupin stepped around the corner, startling when she saw the crowd on her doorstep. “Remus?”

“I’m so sorry, mom,” he blurted, the words coming out in an unfiltered rush. “I didn’t know you’d be up here or else I would’ve-”

“Oh, nonsense. We’re happy to have you and your… friends.” She said sweetly, voice raising into an almost-question at the end. Remus, flying blind, said the first thing that came to mind.

“They’re work friends. And there’s a few more coming tomorrow, if that’s ok.”

“What happened to him?” Jules interrupted, wide eyes trained on Leo, who smiled faintly.

“Shoulder surgery,” Leo said easily, taking Remus by surprise a little at how easily he responded with a textbook spy tactic: tell the truth, but only enough to not raise suspicion. He technically wasn’t lying, either. It was harder to get caught lying when you technically hadn’t.

It seemed like the rookie was no longer a rookie.

“It was recent, wasn’t it?” Hope asked, eyes sharp with observation as she ushered them all inside. When Leo looked at her a little distrustfully and both Logan and Finn stiffened beside him, she sent them all a soothing smile. “I’m a nurse, I can tell.”

“About a day and a half ago.” Leo let her lead them to a couch and sat down, answering Hope’s questions calmly now, seeming to know she could be trusted. When Remus looked around again, he noticed that Sirius and Regulus were both absent, no doubt having a much-needed talk. He was struck with a twinge of worry, but pushed it back. He shouldn’t interfere. They needed some time alone to sort through things. Sirius would talk to him about it if he felt like it. Nado and Kuny were trying to sneak their way into the kitchen, looking for whatever smelled so good in there. For spies, they weren’t very subtle.

“What kind of shoulder surgery?” Jules asked, trailing after their mom. “Re had one a few years ago, too!”

Remus winced and shot Leo an apologetic look for his over-inquisitive brother. “Not quite the same, Jules.”

“All he does is sleep now,” Finn said teasingly as he took a step back and stretched out his leg with only a slight wince. “My jacket has drool all over it from the car ride here.”

Leo shot Finn an unheated glare as he sat up and opened his mouth to shoot back a reply when all of a sudden he went pale as a sheet, eyes dazed. Everyone in the room froze, looking at him nervously.

Finn was kneeling in front of him in a flash, Logan already holding his hand too tightly from his spot beside him. “Leo?”

The blond squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into Logan heavily. “Hurts,” he managed to grit out while Logan wrapped an arm around his waist and held him close, combing his fingers through a riotous mess of curls. He locked gazes with Finn and saw a different kind of pain from Leo’s, but identical to Logan’s, reflected there as he watched helplessly.

Maybe they should’ve accepted the risks and stayed at the hospital. They’d be sitting ducks there, but at least it wouldn’t be this. Logan would take the uncomfortable chairs and the nurse who talked too much and the stress over the heavy weight pressed against him, the shaky, too-measured breaths, the soulful brown eyes that matched his own.

It felt like all the decisions he’d been making recently were the wrong ones. It would be nice to not put his partners through pain because of his poor decisions for once.

Hope was by their side then, holding out a glass of water and two pills. Logan hadn’t even noticed Finn set the prescriptions down on the entryway table. “I think it’s time to take these now.” Leo refused to move from his current spot, but he took the pills and followed them with a quick drink of water. A muffled “thank you” was murmured into the material of Logan’s shirt, quiet and a little tense.

Hope just smiled sympathetically. “You’re probably going to get really sleepy in the next thirty minutes or so,” she continued, giving the three of them a look. Like she knew something. “So if there’s any conversations that can’t wait until the morning…”

Loops came by his eerie observation skills naturally, it seemed.

Logan looked to Remus and the others, hoping that all the planning could wait until the morning. They were exhausted. Surely they’d be ok without them for a few hours.

“Go get some rest,” Loops said gently, motioning down the hallway. “There’s a guest bedroom down there, second door on the left. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Finn made a beeline for the bathroom as soon as they reached the bedroom, muttering about how he’d needed to use the restroom since they’d all piled into the van. Leo toed off his shoes while Logan hovered, unsure if he should offer to help or not, his heart still in his throat. Leo just sent him a weary, affectionate smile. It tugged viciously at Logan’s heart and made him want to pull his partner close and not let go. Ever.

“I’m ok, sweetheart.”

He could’ve cried at the relief of hearing that nickname again. “You sure?” He asked, just to be safe.

Leo’s face was inscrutable as he cautiously sat down on the bed. “If I keep telling myself that… eventually I’ll start to believe it, right?”

Logan didn’t have an answer to that, not at first. But he remembered the feeling from after missions that had gone belly-up, the few that he wasn’t sure he was going to make it out of. The disbelief that somehow, after all of that, he was still alive and ok. It felt like trying to find his way through a snowstorm when all he could see was blinding, overwhelming white.

He wasn’t about to let Leo navigate that without a guide.

He sat down next to Leo and grabbed his hand, moving down to the pulse-point at his wrist and feeling tendons flex and shift under his fingertips. It beat, steady and strong, when he pressed down lightly. He knew Leo could feel it, too.

“You’re here.” Logan said simply. It was a tactic he used on bad days, when everything got to be too much. That little pulse, a sign of life and resilience. The two of them shared that now, that resilience and refusal to die that flowed through their veins.

Leo stared at him, eyes so soft and a hue that Logan wanted to engrave into his memory. “Logan,” he said quietly, right as Finn flung the bathroom door open again. His mouth was in the process of opening to tell a joke when he saw the two of them and snapped it shut again with an audible click, unsure of what to do next.

Leo shared a look with Logan and a conversation passed between the two, silent but apparently crystal clear. Finn couldn’t quite tell if it was excitement or anxiety dancing in his stomach, but either way he wasn’t sure he liked the sensation.

He had a feeling he knew what was coming. They’d been tip-toeing around this conversation for too long now, and they’d finally reached the tipping point. However this conversation went, he knew their relationship would never be the same, and that scared him. There was comfort in things known and familiar, after all.

This felt like hanging out of a perfectly-good plane and not knowing if the parachute strapped to his back was going to work or not.

But everyone who took the jump said it was worth it, in the end. Finn desperately hoped they were right.

“I think we should talk.” Logan said quietly, patting the open spot on the bed next to him. The dreaded words. No one ever wanted to hear those words.

Finn made his way towards them, too afraid to make eye contact, and sat down gingerly. Feet firmly planted on the floor, one hand braced on the bed, tense and ready to get up and take flight if he felt like he needed to. “We’re finally going to have this conversation, huh?” he asked with a fake laugh that fell flat, finally glancing up. Looking at the two of them, side by side and seeming to just know each other in a way Finn felt like he didn’t, he wondered where he fit into all of this.

If he fit in at all.

God, he hoped he fit in.

“Look,” Leo started, voice steady and resolute like he was getting ready to rip off the proverbial bandaid. It did nothing to calm Finn down. “Logan and I talked a while ago, about us. And, um – well, we want to be together. All three of us.”

Finn blinked once, twice. The words weren’t exactly computing, not after spending so long telling himself that this would never happen, could never happen. “Oh.”

“You had to know,” Logan said, sounding confused. “You had to know how we felt. None of us were exactly subtle.”

“I… I hoped.” Finn managed to get out before he got distracted by Logan’s soft touch against the curve of his cheekbone, creating his own constellations out of the freckles there. Finn let his eyes close and focused on the point of contact. He had hoped, even if he’d tried to stamp it out most days. He’d hoped and he’d yearned and he’d ached, and now – finally, unbelievably – he might be getting exactly what he’d wanted. “I knew how the two of you felt about each other, I just… wasn’t sure where that left me.”

“Finn…” He heard the sheets rustle as Leo scooted closer and opened his eyes again.

“Can you blame me?” Finn let Leo hold his hand and slot their fingers together, a painfully delicate motion. He stared down at them, noticing faint green bruising from an IV line and deeper, purple discoloration from that one time Finn tried to catch himself before he hit the ground after a brutal punch. They matched, in a sick, twisted way.

But they were both healing – skin stitching itself slowly back together and aches fading little by little. There was a poignant symbolism there, Finn thought, musing over the words he needed to say. Talking about the doubts and the hurt and the confusion surrounding the three of them might be painful in the moment, but healing would always follow, even if it took a while.

He was thrilled that they wanted him, don’t get him wrong, but that didn’t have the ability to just wipe away the hurt of the past week. “You seemed happy together, just the two of you.” He thought of the coffee shop and watching them from his table with June. Or the hotel room the next day, the stolen glances and furtive touches. “I didn’t want to get in the way of that, not if I wasn’t wanted.”

One of the other two made a broken sound; Finn wasn’t sure who it was. The hand on his cheek moved to his chin and Logan ducked his head to meet Finn’s eyes again, fierce and sincere – a combination that encompassed the very core of the fighter.

“I’ve wanted you since that crazy New Year’s party.” He said with conviction and Finn laughed a little at the memories.

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Logan challenged, signaling a change in the winds. Finn could see the storm brewing in those green eyes. “We were partners. Adding a relationship to the mix would only complicate things.”

“So what changed?” Finn let his frustration bleed through, ignoring Leo’s squeeze to his hand. “You’re saying two completely different things right now and it’s confusing as hell.”

Logan bit back, voice suddenly loud and harsh. “You think this is how I wanted to fall in love?”

Leo and Finn stared at him. No one had mentioned love. Not yet, at least. Logan seemed to recognize the intensity of his words and his shoulders slumped, but he didn’t take them back. Finn wasn’t sure if he was grateful for that or terrified because of it.

“It’s not supposed to be this hard, is it?” the brunet asked, voice a softer murmur. “Why couldn’t the three of us be normal and meet at, like, college or a coffee shop or something?”

Silence greeted him, heavy and suffocating.

“Because these are the cards we were dealt,” Leo said finally, looking between the two of them. “And yeah, it might be a shitty hand, but don’t you think it’d be worth it? After all that we’ve been through, choosing each other instead of letting the fear pull us apart?”

“Sounds like something out of a romance novel.”

Leo shrugged his good shoulder at Logan’s words, a conscientious effort to keep the other side of his body completely still. Finn ached a little at the sight. “Love isn’t easy, not for anyone. It’s a choice you make, day after day.” Blue eyes the color of a cloudless afternoon sky were calm and free of conflict when he looked at them again. “I’ve made my choice. What about you?”

Finn stared at him for what felt like forever, then blurted, “Did you rehearse that or something? What the fuck, Nutty.”

The resulting smile on Leo’s face was a welcomed reprieve from the earlier storm, placid and radiant. How was Finn supposed to do anything else but lean over, cup his cheeks in his hands, and press his lips against that smile?

Leo kissed a little distractedly, like he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do first. The hand not caught in a sling flitted from auburn hair to fist in his t-shirt, then migrated lower to wrap around Finn’s back, long fingers splayed against his spine. But his mouth was soft and sweet against Finn’s, returning his kisses happily, and the combination of the two were just so Leo that Finn’s stomach swooped and his heart flopped in his chest.

He pulled back for air, an unfortunate necessity, and took in the sight in front of him. Leo’s eyes were still closed and that smile still graced kiss-swollen lips as he swayed towards Finn, clearly wanting more. Finn smiled too, irrevocably charmed, and kissed his cheek, his jaw, that cute little indent in his chin, then the curve of his smile again. He could never, not in a hundred years, get enough of this.

And then Logan met his gaze from beside the blond, eyes fond and warm as he watched them and ran his fingers up and down Finn’s thigh, the motion raising goosebumps on Finn’s arms – the air dense and volatile around them like the instant before lightning struck. Finn needed to kiss him, too. To learn the difference between the way he kissed to keep up pretenses on a mission and the way he kissed when he meant it. Finn kept Leo close with a hand on his waist and tilted Logan’s head up to kiss him, deep and intense. It was thrilling and a little wild; so different from kissing Leo, but just as captivating. Always unpredictable, the kiss morphed from charged to surprisingly, achingly gentle – a thunderstorm melting into a comforting spring shower. Finn was reminded of shoving the couch up against the wall nearest to the window during storms as a kid, watching the raindrops track down the glass, and the sound of the world going silent save for the wind and the thunder and the rain hitting the roof like the pounding of drums – a symphony just for him to witness. He sighed against soft lips and sank into the kiss, listening for the intricacies of this new, unknown melody.

The rustle of clean sheets, a hitch in breath followed by a deep exhale, the steady beat of the old clock hung on the wall, a hum against his lips.

Then Leo was leaning in to kiss Finn’s pulse-point, firm enough to bruise and tender enough to make Finn’s eyelashes flutter. Finn canted his head to the side, stretching his neck to give Leo more skin to claim, and pulled Logan in again. A duet shifting to a trio and slotting perfectly into place, patching the gaps in the music that Finn didn’t even notice were there.

This was worth it. It had to be. As much as it would kill him – or any of them, really – to love them and then lose them, that would still be better than not loving them at all.

They’d wanted this for so long now, all of them. Even with all the stress and hurt and doubt, Finn couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. For fuck’s sake, he was kissing Logan. It wasn’t part of a mission. And Leo was still pressing kiss after kiss to his neck because he wanted to. They wanted each other.

Screw panicking about losing them. Finn was done missing things because he was worried about things that might not even happen. It wasn’t something he could just will away or turn off, of course, but he could actively make sure he was living in the current moment. And right then, the current moment was making out with his boys in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

He loved the current moment.

The kiss turned to simply smiling against Logan’s mouth, delirious with contentment, so Finn broke away and pulled Logan in for a hug, then gently maneuvered Leo to join them, making sure his wound was well out of the way. They stayed like that for a long time, relaxing in the closeness and adjusting to the newness of all of this. And even though it was new, it was already something they were quickly getting addicted to. The string connecting Finn’s heart to theirs cinched tighter and pulled sharply. For the first time, he didn’t mind it in the slightest. It was no longer a painful reminder of what he couldn’t have, it was an exhilarating sign that were all irreversibly intertwined, both in each other’s arms and in this crazy mess that was their lives.

Leo interrupted the moment with a yawn, blinking sleepily. Finn smiled a little at the sight – he almost felt like he was doing too much of that in the past few minutes, but sleepy Leo was simply adorable.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Logan urged. It would be a tight squeeze, the three of them in that bed, but now they could cuddle and press close without pretending it didn’t happen the next morning. Finn sighed happily at the thought and headed for the light switch. The light from the lamp on the bedside table illuminated his way back to his boys, all soft and stretched out next to each other under a pale comforter. It was a much-needed reprieve from the chaos of their current situation that Finn was all to eager to take advantage of.

He watched as Logan propped himself up on one arm to look down at Leo, hand trailing through that tuft of gray hair and then tugging on it playfully. They shared a smile before Logan leaned down the rest of the way to kiss him, assured and familiar and unrushed. They’d done this before. The knowledge didn’t tear at Finn’s heart like it would have a week ago, because now he knew that they felt the same way about him. And he was falling for them, too. Watching the two boys he was half in love with already so comfortable and loving with each other? How was Finn supposed to handle all the emotions bubbling over in his chest? He crawled into bed next to Logan and flicked the lamp off, settling the room into darkness.

Logan settled in to sleep facing Finn and with Leo’s reassuring warmth behind him. His eyes closed and time slowed, a blessed mercy. The events of tomorrow felt years away in that still, quiet moment. But there was something prodding at the back of Logan’s mind – some strange, uncomfortable feeling that he could quite place, until he realized that everything was too still, too quiet. His mind flashed to the litany of “what ifs” that had looped in his brain like a mantra back in that hospital room and he rolled over quickly, shuffling over until his head was pillowed on Leo’s chest, far away from the bandages.

Thump-thump.

Leo’s chest rose and fell under Logan’s head as he breathed and Logan let himself relax, reaching blindly behind him until he found Finn’s arm and flung it over himself, loosely intertwining their fingers over his chest. Finn moved in closer to press against his back and tangle their legs together. He sighed before going still again, breaths deep and even.

And Logan finally, finally let himself drift off to sleep.

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 21 (Kiro) Part 3 [Taking a Risk] & [Little Star] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For previous translations of chapter 21: Part 1/ Part 2

[Taking A Risk]

Warm light reflects off the vintage crystal chandelier, casting fine shadows on the wall.

I returned to my room the next day. The service of storing Evol seemed to require a special number to be called.

I looked at the introduction in the hotel guide and dialed the number written on it.

Waiter: Hello, what can I do for you?

MC: Ahem, hello, I want to enjoy the service of storing Evol. How do I do it?

Waiter: What is your Evol type?

MC: ….My Evol deals with memory.

Waiter: Okay, the information has been registered for you.

Waiter: Please wait in the room for a moment. We will send a dedicated service staff to serve you.

I put down the phone and looked at Helios standing to the side with a worried look.

Helios: Now, we wait.

However, a few hours passed and there was still no sign of movement.

I leaned on the soft pillow a little nervously, looked towards the cabinet opposite me, and spoke quietly.

MC: …Helios, are you asleep?

After a while, a questioning sound came from the cabinet.

Helios: I’m asleep.

Hearing what he said, I couldn’t help but smile.

MC: Then Mr. Sleep Talker, shouldn’t you open the cabinet door a little bit to let some air out?

MC: Besides, this room has been checked and there’s no monitor, so you don’t have to hide so soon.

The air fell silent again and soon the cabinet door creaked to reveal a gap.

The light outside the door instantly spilled in, making those azure blue eyes clearer.

I lowered my head and looked at the closet. The space inside was really small. He could only sit down on the wooden board with his legs bent and his knees pressed to his chest.

Such a well-behaved sitting position matched with that expression.

I snickered in my heart and rested my head on my hand.

MC: After we leave this place, shall we go on a walk together and bask in the sun?

Helios: ….

The cabinet door became quiet again and occasionally I could hear shallow breathing.

I was about to change the subject when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Almost instantly, the faint beam of light from the cabinet door disappeared once more.

??: Dear guest, the service you requested has been processed.

??: If you’re ready, please press the button inside the handle.

MC: Okay.

I walked past the closet and knocked lightly with my fingertips. I went to the door and bent down.

With his reminder, I noticed that there was an extremely tiny button on the deep side of the handle.

MC: …This is too secretive.

The moment the button was pressed, the side wall suddenly pushed back and slowly pulled away to the left.

A waiter stood behind the hidden door and politely bowed.

Waiter: Pardon me.

MC: …Don’t you think this is a bit scary?

Waiter: In order to ensure the privacy of each guest, I am sorry that it has brought you a bad experience. We will make better improvements next time.

MC: …..

Waiter: Please follow me.

I walked into the secret door with no expression on my face. Then, I turned a corner into a deep corridor and I secretly felt that it was no wonder that Helios couldn’t find it.

This is too well hidden.

We walked into the elevator and the waiter pressed the only button on the panel.

The elevator shook slightly. The waiter frowned and looked up.

I vaguely guessed the reason for the elevator shaking so I spoke up. ***Is Helios gonna take a ride on top of the elevator??? So badass!!!***

MC: What’s the matter?

Waiter: Ah, I’m apologize for making you feel anxious.

Waiter: This elevator doesn’t normally shake.

MC: Probably your imagination? This elevator feels very stable to me. ***MC is getting better at her acting skills 😆***

The waiter nodded and faced the elevator door again.

The ride took longer than expected and it took about a minute before the elevator slowly came to a stop.

After we walked another long corridor, we finally stopped in front of a wooden door. The waiter knocked gently on the door before pushing it away, turned around and made an inviting gesture with his hand to me.

I walked in and found that it was just an extremely normal room. There was nothing around that indicated a device to store Evol.

At the table in the middle of the room was a man who looked seventy or eighty years old, and behind him stood a very burly man.

The elderly man was very old. His thick eyelids were pulled down low, almost covering both eyes.

He raised his eyes laboriously, reached out his fingers and tapped on the table, motioning me to sit down.

I sat in front of the old man. My other hand quietly touched the anesthesia gun at my waist.

Old man: Extend your hand.

MC: Before I do that, can you tell me the process of how Evol is stored first?

MC: Even though I requested the service, I also have the right to ask how it works.

The old man didn’t speak as if he was about to fall asleep.

Man: Guest, your hand is part of the process.

The man behind him replied in a low voice and walked to my side with a sense of unspeakable oppression.

MC: …

Man: Guest, is there a problem?

??: The problem is you.

An intense silver light appeared behind the man like a ghost and the chilling light made those blue eyes look even colder.

Almost instantaneously, his question was interrupted by the sound of broken bones in the air.

The swift figure resembled a crescent silver moon, leaving traces like a shadow.

The man was unresponsive as if he didn’t care about his slightly twisted arm. A silver pillar made iron steel condensed in the palm of his hand and he swung it at Helios.

Helios pulled out two handles from behind his waist. The knife blades clashed against the silver pillar, making a harsh rubbing sound.

At the same time, I immediately grabbed the stiff and somewhat lethargic old man and hid off to the side.

This old man is definitely a certain key and we can’t let him get injured here.

I can’t help much at this time but at least I won’t hinder Helios.

A look of surprise flashed in the man’s eyes. After thinking for a bit, he waved his hand and countless small, silver needles appeared in the air, shooting them straight at Helios.

Only the silver light is no longer there.

In the moment of confusion, Helios had already appeared behind him. The cold knife reflecting the man’s terrified eyes.

Helios: Fool.

There was not even a scream but a faint voice came.

Helios held the dagger and walked towards the old man with a blank face, covering most of the light in the room, looking at him condescendingly.

Helios: I don’t have time for nonsense.

Helios: Who are you?

[Little Star]

The old man shivered at the figure shining in the cold light, breathless with fear.

Old man: Don’t kill me. I, I was threatened….

He opened his mouth blankly, ready to say something.

All of a sudden, the air around him instantly became distorted, gradually swallowing his body and began to dissipate like a bubble.

In the middle of disappearing, the old man tried hard to hold onto Helios’ hand.

But it only passed through his body.

Old man: Please, you….must help me….

In the silent room, there was only a trembling echo, as if the old man was never there.

I stared blankly at what was happening, a bit in disbelief.

MC: Helios, he’s…

Helios: Leave here first.

As he said that, he stretched out his hand to pull me.

Suddenly, the floor under our feet began to shake, and an inexplicable sense of dizziness filled my entire brain which caused me to lean back.

Helios: MC!

A black line ran across us suddenly like a crack. I stretched out my hand and in my peripheral vision, I saw Helios preparing to jump—

In the next second, the entire space seemed to rotate violently and the huge inertia forced me to slam into the wall on my right.

The scenery in front of me is like a pop-up book that has been quickly flipped through, continuously  changing and becoming blurry.

I curled up in pain. The heavy pain constantly eroding my willpower.

MC: Helios…

I feel like I lost consciousness.

Under the night sky, in the center of the fountain with exquisite patterns, water gushed out of the nozzle from the statue.

A man was sitting on a recliner by the fountain, looking at a Rubik’s Cube suspended diagonally in the air.

He raised his head, staring alertly at the old man sitting on the ground.

??: You’re really going to cause trouble for me.

While he said this, the man’s eyes flashed with excitement and madness, his fingers shaking.

The Rubik’s Cube began to flicker with strange lights and flipped over.

??: But I also see that he’s been quite the eyesore for a long time. I can finally crush him now, right?

Helios: ….

Helios: ….MC.

Helios: Kilo, display location.

Amongst the chaos, I vaguely heard an extremely anxious and nervous voice reach my ears.

Helios: Damn it.

Helios: MC!! Can you hear me?!

I opened my eyes slowly and my body felt like it was falling apart. I wanted to lift my right arm to prop myself up, but immediately felt the sharp pain.

The scene in front me seemed to be split with half of it that was the room I was previously in and the other half a dense bamboo forest.

MC: ….I can hear you.

As soon as I made a sound, the rapid breathing in my ear seemed to stop for a moment.

Helios: Are you hurt anywhere?

I smiled bitterly, pulled myself and sat in a corner, trying hard to stand up.

MC: It seems that I hit arm when I crashed into the wall.

Although it was very painful that I wanted to cry, I managed to make my voice not sound so weak.

Helios: …Does it hurt?

His voice was very soft, with some far-off and familiar tenderness in it, making my nose tingle instantly.

For a while, I was a little confused, either from the intense pain or the softness that I hadn’t heard for a long time.

***If you choose the top answer: “It hurts”***

MC: ….It hurts.

MC: *sniffles*….It really hurts.

I couldn’t hold back the emotions surging in my heart and the grievances I had suppressed also came pouring out.

Helios: …Don’t cry.

I rarely heard his voice sound so flustered. It sounds just like the bewildered boy in my memory.

***If you choose the bottom answer: “It doesn’t hurt”***

MC: I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt at all.

I was full of vigor and laughed, holding my arm. Gritting my teeth, tears came from my eyes unconsciously.

MC: What about you? Are you okay...?

Helios: MC.

On the other side of the line, Helios interrupted me smoothly.

Helios: The sound of your tears falling on the ground is loud.

I blinked, pressed my mouth, and vigorously wiped the tears with the back of my hand.

MC: How can that be...

A soft laugh came to my ears, like a feather, warming my heart.

Helios: I will be by your side soon so don’t cry.

MC: Then sing to me and I’ll stop.

Helios: ….

As soon as I spoke, I heard the sound of heavy objects rolling along the ground.

The sound of the wind kept passing by and Helios seemed to be running quickly, with a slight gasp from time to time.

My heart lurched suddenly and I felt a bad premonition rise up.

MC: What happened to you…..? Are you in some dangerous space again?

After a moment of silence, Helios replied with an answer that was completely irrelevant to my question.

Helios: What do want to hear me sing?

I was stunned. The whistling sound in my ear continued.

MC: It doesn’t matter. You must ensure your safety first!

Helios: How about “Little Star” (aka “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star)?

MC: ….

The sound of the heavy objects rolling was getting closer and closer in my ears as if they wanted to run him over.

In the huge roar, a leisurely singing voice rang in my ears.

Helios: Twinkle twinkle, little star….

Helios: How I wonder what you are.

Those loud noises seemed to be shielded by a transparent film and only his faint singing voice remained in the whole world.

Gentle and firm.

His singing was mixed with rapid breaths and at this moment, it was like a soft embrace that enveloped me in it.

When the last melody descended softly, the chilling sound of a dagger being thrown ended the roar altogether and the world fell silent.

Helios: Don’t cry anymore.

His uncertain questions made me rub my eyes dumbfoundedly.

MC: Amazing, it doesn’t hurt anymore.

A soft laugh came from my ear and I seemed to be able to imagine his helpless smile.

MC: Helios, where do I go?

Helios: You’re injured so stay where you are.

MC: My hand is fine! Although I still don’t understand the operating structure of this space….

MC: But if we both head in the same direction, it will definitely be quicker!

Helios: ….

MC: Let’s go together.

I straightened up, looked at the door I front of me and said firmly to him.

The silent sound of running and the “whoosh” of a knife blade rushed into my ears. I quietly waited for his response.

Helios: Alright.

Helios: Let’s do it. 

He let out a long sigh of relief, without saying a word, as if looking for our next route.

Helios: Open the door behind you.

Helios: Walk slowly.

MC: Roger!

I held out my arm and opened the door without hesitation in accordance with his instructions and strode inside.

I looked around and found myself standing on the stairs of an abandoned building. His voice immediately came to my ears.

Helios: Go up and push open the door on the top floor.

I turned and moved precisely according to his directions.

Obviously we are far apart from each other, but he knows where I am at this moment. It felt like he was right beside me.

I opened the door and was greeted by the bright sun shining in my eyes.

Taking a look, I found myself standing on the roof of a bell tower.

Helios: Grab hold of something. The Rubik’s Cube is about to turn.

I reacted instinctively and immediately grabbed a heavy rope after hearing his words.

Right afterwards, the familiar feeling of inversion came and I closed my eyes and held onto the rope tightly, waiting for the rotation to stop.

Soon the world returned back to normal. I opened my eyes and found that the scene in front of me hadn’t changed much.

***THIS IS SO INSANE AND I LOVE IT!!!***

Helios: Is your arm okay?

MC: No worries!

He was quiet for a while as if deciding on something.

Helios: MC, jump down.

I couldn’t help being startled, moving my feet and looking down.

The bell tower extends into the clouds. Thick clouds hang in the air and the howling wind beats against me, constantly reminding me of how high the bell tower is.

Breathing deeply, I climbed to the edge of the clock tower.

Helios: You can also wait for me to come see you.

He seemed to guess what I was thinking and his tone was softer than before.

MC: It’s no good if only one person is doing all the running.

After speaking, I took a deep breath and jumped.

The light, shadow and wind rushed past my ears, but I didn’t have the slightest timidness in my heart.

Because I know that this can get me a little bit closer to him. ***YES!!! THAT’S MY GIRL!!! GO TO YOUR MAN!!!😭😭😭  KIRO AND MC RUNNING TOWARDS EACH OTHER HENCE THE REASON WHY THE KARMA IS CALLED “RUN TO YOU” 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕

As I continued to fall, the space on the ground became distorted again until finally forming a door.

On the other end of the gate is a net woven with countless colorful soft bands which safely stopped my fall.

I steadied my heartbeat and looked up to find that this was a trampoline.

Sponges of different shapes were staggered and stacked and there was a door on the diving platform directly above.

MC: Helios, there’s a door on the platform not far away. Should I go there?

Helios: MC, go…

His voice became sporadic until a harsh electric static rang out and then nothing.

MC: Helios….?

I called his name but I didn’t hear any response.

MC: Did the communication get interrupted?

I looked at the door in the distance, thinking about what Helios didn’t finish saying.

Does he want me to go there? Or does he want me to choose another door?

I pursed my mouth, looked around, and found that there were several identical doors in the distance.

I hesitated and finally my eyes came back to the door on the diving platform.

Inexplicable intuition told me that he wanted me to go through this door.

MC: Take a gamble.

I stood up, climbed onto the platform, and grabbed the upper door handle—

Then, I was met by an endless stream of cars whizzing past me.

[End of Part 3]

This chapter is crazy!!! So much excitement, action, and sweet moments between Kiro and MC!!! My heart!!!🥺💕

[astarryon]

Promise Me

I Want to Take It With Me

Warnings: Mention of blood, angst, light swearing

Chapter Summary: He’s run out of time, but saying goodbye is the last thing he wants to do.

Masterlist

Chapter Three: In the Name of Dry Shoes

“Spencer—“

“Don’t talk,” Spencer insists with a resolute shake of his head. He’s not sure how he’s still going, not when he’d been met with the sight of his biggest fear no less than thirty seconds ago, but somehow he manages. He’s always been good at pushing emotions down, smothering them until they ran away to be dealt with another time. It’s not healthy — he knows that. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, he doesn’t have a lot of time for self improvement. “You’re losing too much blood, we need to get your heart rate down.”

A chuckle tumbles out of your mouth, stilted and shuddering, along with a smattering of blood, and Spencer’s mind shifts into overdrive trying to deduce what at all could possibly be funny about this situation. “‘S only beating so fast ‘cause you’re getting handsy.”

“Don’t— don’t do that right now,” Spencer snaps, pressing his hands more firmly to the wound in your chest. His hands are so slick with blood that he doesn’t even notice when his own teardrops land on them. “You can— you can be flirtatious and aloof and obnoxiously clueless when you’re not bleeding out on a dirty floor, but until we get you to a hospital where there are— surgeons, and, and anesthesia, and people who can make sure you don’t fucking die, just please concentrate on your breathing.”

Spencer’s mind races a mile a minute, rapidly cycling through the pieces of knowledge he possesses that apply to this situation. He knows that the average adult has ten units of blood in their body, but that won’t help him keep it from slowly leaking out of you. He knows the team can’t be more than five minutes away, but with a gunshot wound to the chest the probability of you surviving until then looks grim. He knows each breath you take becomes more ragged than the last, which makes him wonder if your lung’s been punctured, but he doesn’t want to give that possibility any significant thought. He knows you need a doctor, one with a more practical skillset than his own, and he’s left to come to terms with his own chronic uselessness as he continues applying pressure to your wound. He knows that if he has to listen to you try to make him feel better for what could be your last precious few moments together, he’ll never be able to forgive himself. He knows he won’t survive you dying, here, now, with so much — too fucking much — left unspoken. He knows he’ll never like the color red again.

Spencer knows lots of things. Unfortunately, none of those things are particularly useful in digging the bullet out of your clavicle.

“It’s so cold,” you breathe, head lolling to the side. Your lashes are fluttering at a rapid pace and your breaths are shallow now, more raspy. You’re in much too great a danger of losing consciousness. “It’s… will you hold me?”

He shakes his head, vision blurring as his tears sway along with it. “I’m sorry, I can’t, we have to keep pressure on your wound.”

“Please?”

“No.” He says it so sharply that he almost tricks himself into thinking he’s shouting, but then, anything louder than a whisper would sound like an atomic bomb to him right now. “Just hang on, please. Just a little longer. The rest of the team will be here soon, and then the medics, and—“

“Spencer,” you whisper, voice strained. His name on your tongue splits his heart clean in two. It’s the kind of thing where he can feel every individual rip of the two halves separating right down the middle, and he knows that, whether or not he loses you tonight, that sensation will always be awaiting him in his most dreadful nightmares. “I… If I’m going to die, I want to feel your arms around me one last time before I do. I want to take it with me.”

He shouldn’t. He knows your odds are slim, and he knows they become even slimmer if he takes his hands off your wound — and that’s without mentioning how they’re effected if he moves you even the slightest bit. But you’re scared, and you’re crying, and he’s crying, and he’s always had a particular hatred of denying you what you ask for. And if he’s going to lose you — he hates to give that thought any relevance, but it’s been too long and he’s so good at imagining the worst case — shouldn’t he grant your last wish? Shouldn’t he bend over backwards to soothe your soul as you part?

Shouldn’t he tell you…?

Slowly, carefully, Spencer withdraws his hands from your chest and gingerly scoops you into his arms, keeping you as still as possible as he repositions you so that your head rests against his shoulder, your back against his chest, and does his best to ignore that your skin is much too icy. He listens closely for any gasps or hisses of pain, apologizing softly each and every time your body betrays your discomfort, and he tries to put any and all calculations of how quickly you’ll bleed out now that he’s relieved the pressure on your wound out of his mind. It’s too late to wonder now whether he’s made a mistake in giving in to you, and, anyway… if it’s in pursuit of your happiness, can it really be a mistake?

“There we go,” he whispers, kissing the crown of your head before tucking it beneath his chin. “It’s alright, I’ve got you, you’re gonna be okay. Just hold on a little longer, alright? Just keep holding on.”

“Do you think we would’ve been happy together?” The question is soft off your lips, brittle as sun damaged crystal, and it catches Spencer so suddenly off guard that, for a few short seconds that don’t feel short in the slightest, his mind forgets how to comprehend language. “You and me? Would we have been alright?”

“You’re not happy now?” he questions, threading his fingers through your blood stained hair. The words don’t tumble out in a defensive tone, and for that Spencer is glad. Whatever he feels about this situation, about what you’re saying, about experiencing you drain away, right out of his arms, he can feel later, when he’s not gently rocking you back and forth in the hopes that the sensation will bring you even the slightest ounce of comfort. None of it matters, not right now. All he wants is to make sure you’re taken care of.

“I don’t mean now,” you wheeze, your palm coming to rest at his knee. “I’m asking, like… would we have been okay? Later? A y-year from now? Five years from now? Would you have still wanted me?”

“Stop talking like you’re already dead,” he pleads, tears dripping down his chin and into your hair. Where are the others? Where the fuck are the medics? Why isn’t anyone coming? “I haven’t lost you yet, and I’m not planning to, so we don’t need to speak in hypotheticals. Just keep… I am begging you, just keep holding on.”

“I’m tryin’, honey, but it’s… my hands are slipping, and I’m not sure how much longer I’m gonna last.” And he can hear it, too, in the way that your words are slurring and your voice thickens. You’re fading — he can tell. The smart thing now would be to come to terms with the odds and say goodbye, just in case… but, for the first time in his life, Spencer doesn’t want to be smart. Not if it means accepting that you’re leaving him. “Will you promise me something?”

He closes his eyes, bracing against the awful truth, and he can actually feel the resolve slipping out from underneath him. “Anything,” he tells you, fighting off the urge to sob. He needs to stay strong for you right now. “Anything, I swear to god, whatever you want.”

“You don’t believe in god, Spence.”

“Then I swear to you,” he tries again, and he hopes you can hear the fervor, the genuine sincerity in his voice. Because he does believe in you, and he would do anything that you asked of him. “Whatever you want, I swear to you, I’ll do it. Just tell me what it is.”

“If I die—“

“You’re not going to—“

“Spencer,” you insist, and the tone of your voice takes the fight right out of him, renders him immediately silent. You’ve never spoken to him like that before — he’s sure of it. “If I die… promise me you won’t forget to smile, okay?” Your words slur further, your speech slowing, and Spencer has to strain to properly make out what you’re saying. “You have a really nice smile. The world can’t lose that.”

No, what the world can’t lose is you, but he knows trying to argue with you right now is pointless.

“I promise,” he tells you, because it’s all he can say. “I’ll think of you, and I’ll smile every day.”

“Promise me you won’t shut the others out,” you go on, blood now leaking from your mouth in a constant trickle. It’s funny, in an awful way. So many years in the BAU, confronted every day with grisly crime scenes and bloody aftermath, yet he’s never been so effected. Spencer wonders if that’s self absorbed of him. “Talk to Penelope when you need someone to cheer you up, talk to Derek when you need someone to listen, talk to JJ when you have trouble sleeping. Let them in, Spence.”

“I will,” Spencer whispers. “I promise.” His hands are shaking so bad that he can’t actually tell whether that’s his body or yours beneath his touch.

“And… p-promise me…” Your lungs shudder a gasping breath, and Spencer knows you’re only hanging on in effort to get the rest out. He knows he should tell you to rest, tell you it’s okay, let you know that if you need to let go, if you’re too tired to hold on, then he won’t hold it against you. But Spencer’s become a selfish creature in all those matters concerning you, and he’d sworn a long time ago never to lie to you, no matter the circumstances. As much as he wants to be able to be the man willing to sit there and rock you peacefully into oblivion…. he’s just not ready to let go of you. “Promise you’ll remember how much I love you.”

He’d have done that anyway, even without you asking him to. It’s already the first thing that crosses his mind when he wakes up each morning and rolls over to find you at his side, all mussed hair and light snores with the sheets balled up near your feet. He’s reminded every time you kiss him, so soft and sweet, and every time your lips press against his Spencer feels like he’s experiencing it for the very first time all over again. Of course he knows you love him. How could he not, when you find new ways to tell him so each and every day?

“Promise,” you breathe, just as your head lolls to the side and your hand goes slack against his leg. “Promise.”

“I promise,” Spencer whispers, but by the time the words leave his lips, you’re already gone.

—

Chapter Five: Ten Minutes and Two Centimeters

[94monkeys]

November, December and January were the worst months of my life that started out as the best months of my life. I am better, but I’m still not okay.

CW: death (not mine), medical stuff (no gore), emergency room experience

The first week of November was the election we’d been building up to, frankly, 4 years. I was basically eating, sleeping, breathing work from mid-August until the election, and then for several days after until we got the result that we wanted.

The second week in November, I found out I was pregnant. We were shocked and thrilled. (It was intentional but it was still, like, surprising that it actually worked???)

Turn back now because it only gets worse from here.

The third week in November, I find out I’m getting laid off. I was given a lot of reasons, none of which made sense, but basically a casualty of office politics way over my head. I was told that it wasn’t performance related, but it still felt brutal to have to do this after pouring myself into work. I’ve been laid off before, and it’s always a cold experience. You remember that your company only cares about you to a degree, and at the end of the day, they will always protect themselves and not you. I personally don’t understand why you would replace a professional with two part-time dilettantes on your public facing communications BUT ANYWAY!

I was asked to stay through the beginning of January and I accepted.

The fourth week in November was Thanksgiving. We were home about to make dinner for 2 (COVID). During the day, I started to feel sick and crampy. I called the urgent care nurse line and they told me to go to the ER. I live very close to a hospital, so I literally packed my biggest warmest sweatshirt and a book and walked there, leaving my spouse and the turkey still in the oven (luckily that was his purview anyway).

The ER was, surprisingly, very quiet. I was there for about 4 hours while they ran various tests on me. (They had to call a specialist in from their Thanksgiving dinner, which I felt terrible about.) Ultimately, they could not determine whether I had miscarried or not, so they sent me home with instructions to take it easy and to go in for more testing.

In December I had a doctor’s appointment where they confirmed that I was not pregnant any more. (The tech was very cold and impersonal… I was crying on the ultrasound table. I know that it was so early, but I was crying for myself and my spouse and the dreams we had invested that never came to be. I was sad because this was our first time, and it was so terrible, and we won’t ever have a first one.)

They flagged something in my blood tests that was troubling, so they ordered regular testing. I was going in about 3 times a week for blood draws. Luckily I’m not scared of needles so it was more annoying than anything.

I was also applying to and interviewing for jobs (without success) and also still working at my job where I felt literally invisible. It was a really dark time. I don’t know how else to describe it. I don’t know how I got out of bed every day. It felt like everything in my life had just collapsed at once. I didn’t feel unwell, but it was just like a big weight dragging me down all the time.

In the 3rd week of December, I had another ultrasound and then met with a new to me doctor, I’ll call her Dr. S. I had been going along with all the additional bloodwork, but I was starting to push back on why it was necessary.

It was a Friday afternoon when Dr. S met with me and said: We think that you have an ectopic pregnancy. I didn’t know, but I would soon learn that this was a pregnancy that was not in the right place, would not grow, but could rupture and kill me. She recommended surgery to address it.

Okay, I said. I had the next week off, so I assumed it would be either that week, or in January while I was funemployed (but still had my good health insurance).

I was thinking this weekend, said Dr. S.

So it was that I went to a Friday doctor’s appointment and found myself signing into surgery on Saturday morning.

It was my first ever surgery with anesthesia, and everyone took great care of me, but it was still EXTREMELY disconcerting. I had laparoscopic surgery so I only have 2 teeny scars, but I was in a lot of pain and confused when I woke up.

Work was closed all week, so I basically spent the whole week sitting in 1 chair in my apartment either watching movies or reading. I didn’t want to get into all the details with people, because a) 2020 was already so… 2020, b) I was still nominally job-hunting and I didn’t want to give anyone a dumb surface reason not to hire me or make them think I was a pregnancy flight risk (I love being a woman of a certain age!), c) I just didn’t want to talk about it. On the other hand, almost no one at work checked on me. I found their treatment very cold, again.

In January I put myself together for my last week at work, we had the runoff elections, we had the coup. I had my surgery follow-up where it was confirmed that it was an ectopic pregnancy. That was my January: medical follow-ups, but at least I don’t have to schedule them around the job I no longer have!  

WHEW. If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for hearing me. I have since gotten a new job working on communications for politics, but also nonprofits and city agencies. My stress has been cut by probably 70 percent. In my job I’m doing a lot more writing, which is probably what enabled me to write this long overdue update with most of everything in it.

We are starting to explore our fertility options. I had a doctor that really catastrophized me in terms of how intense we need to go about it, but likely we will start slowly and see how it goes. They still don’t know why I had an ectopic (and probably won’t figure out), but I am at higher risk of having another one, so any potential pregnancy will involve a lot of testing and monitoring. That’s why we haven’t “started” “trying” again, because there are tests and there is my new job and so on. I had a hysterosalpingogram, which you should definitely Google if you’re not squeamish. (It didn’t hurt but it was totally weird!)

I am better, but I’m not OK. I’m still mad about everything that happened to me. There are moments when I get catapulted back to my surgery and everything, and I completely freeze. I just got my doctors’ records from November and December (which I had to pay $35 for!!! MY OWN RECORDS) and even though I didn’t learn anything new from reading those records, I still had a lot of emotional trouble processing what happened. It’s weird that so many of them start by noting that the patient was “not in acute distress.” Must be an automatic fill-in because that doesn’t match what I was feeling ever!!!

Dr. S literally saved my life and I think what was not clear to me at the time, because I was still mourning what could have been, is that I am still here. I am more than everything that happened to me. 

I am looking for a new therapist and I am trying to look on the bright side. Unfortunately, one of my oldest friends in the world endured a similar health issue back in January; fortunately, we are each other’s best comfort because I know she won’t judge me. This summer may bring good news on this front or maybe not, but at least vaccinated we can do more than we have been able to do (picnics in the park! Visits to family!) I have to believe my luck is turning. It’s how I get by.

[inkribbon796]

It’s Not Rabies, It’s . . . Ch. 1

Summary: There was an old phrase that the Jims believed in wholeheartedly: “If I cannot find trouble, I will create it.”

Or: King gets a crash course in parenting in the weirdest way possible.

A/N: This was a suggestion-request from the anon NightFall on AO3. Which resulted in this story and since this one was getting a bit long it inspired a bit for the Visitation Day on Sunday which will be a lot less angsty.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Chapter 1: I’m Sorry, You’re Dying

It was another slow day in the city, typical city crime mixed with the fact that Anti was busy stalking Henrik and Remus had a bout of food poisoning. So not a lot of bot supervillain crime was being done.

That mixed with over two feet of snow kept a good number of people indoors. King especially didn’t want to deal with Dark mother henning him, was sitting in the main common room of the heroes’ base next to Yancy. He was communicating with a couple of people on his phone.

But because there wasn’t anything big happening in town, the Jims were bored. And bored Jims led to only one thing: trouble.

There was an old phrase that the Jims believed in wholeheartedly: “If I cannot find trouble, I will create it.”

It was a surprise when RJ and CJ came bursting into the room with Marvin hot on their heels. None of the other heroes had even seen them come into the base, but that was nothing new.

“Hey dumbasses, let’s not play with cursed shit,” Marvin ordered.

“Look out Jim, I’ve got a stabby,” RJ held up the spike in his hands, the thing looked like it was made of stone with some runes carved into the side of it.

And what would happen next would become the single most preventable accident that had happened in the base for the past seven years.

King and Yancy were used to sudden bursts of noise. Between Wil and their siblings, King especially was good at tuning out background “white noise” as King called.

So King hadn’t even realized the Jims had run in, hadn’t seen RJ get closer until he accidentally stepped on his cape. King startled, pulling on the cape as he rushed to stand and scurry away from the Jims.

But it wasn’t fast enough, RJ tripped and slammed into King. In actuality RJ just tapped him with the thing but as if it was triggered to go off, the center of the spike detached and violently stabbed into King’s chest and punctured all the way until there was about an inch sticking out the other side.

RJ and King looked at the spike in horror and then at each other before King slumped to the ground like a marionette with its strings up.

Instantly the other heroes rushed to King’s aid. Marvin doing his best to stabilize him, fearful of taking the spike out without killing him. He wasn’t moving, the young man was barely breathing.

It was so bad Iplier thought he was already dead when he checked for a pulse.

Iplier stared at King in shock. “His heart’s still beating.”

“Vat?” Henrik asked in surprise. He was in the room already preparing for the postmortem surgery to remove the spike.

“He’s not dead so we need to work fast,” Iplier realized, calling in for anesthesia and all kinds of help.

They worked quickly to stabilize King’s condition and eventually pull the spike out. Marvin and the Host, or just the Host because he quickly pushed Marvin out of the room, helping to make sure there wasn’t a magical infection of some kind.

When King woke up, his chest was killing him. “Ughhhh.”

Scratch that. It felt like he was hit by a truck, died, was drop kicked out of Heaven, and sent back to Earth. Everything hurt.

“Congrats,” Iplier started. “You are no longer dying.”

“Fucking thanks, I guess,” King groaned.

“I take it you’d like a higher dose of morphine,” Iplier asked.

“Pllllleeeeease!” King groaned.

That got a slight chuckle out of Iplier.

The next week was absolute hell. The first two days after he got out of the hospital he was fine. He tried to take it easy around the park. He didn’t want to overexert himself and damage his heart again. But after that second day he had a constant shrilling migraine. It hurt to be outside, hearing people talk felt like his brain was being stabbed. He felt too exhausted to move, he couldn’t even think about eating without wanting to throw up.

Virgil was the one who found him on that absolutely dreadful third day, shaking on his floor.

Iplier was called back in and King went right back to the hospital. His heart was fine and thanks to the Host he hadn’t even gotten scars.

After checking his symptoms, Iplier got worried and furious. He proclaimed it to be rabies, something he’d warned King about since day one.

King didn’t remember being bitten, but knew it could have happened literally at any moment he’d been outside.

For a week, since he’d been stabbed, he lay on a hospital bed, 100% certain that he was going to die in an agonizingly slow fashion.

Then one night, while Yancy had fallen asleep watching over him, King went to sleep. He began having a weird dream where he was walking through a field and came across a dismantled house. The only thing left standing apart from the frame was a single interior wall and a mirror.

The young man looked at the mirror, shrinking back from the mangled, hideous image he saw . . .

And then he was awake. His headache, gone.

It was euphoric.

All the pain he’d felt in his body had simply vanished. He wondered if he’d died, looking over to see Yancy still slumped uncomfortably in a hospital chair.

King was about to call out to him, to ask if he had died, when something in his bed bit him.

He screamed in pain, almost throwing himself out of the bed. Yancy startled awake.

There was something in King’s bed, still under the sheets. It was about the size of a wiffle ball and it was making little growling noises.

The young man threw off the covers and he saw that there was a drawing pressed flat to the bed, and it was moving, as if King had trapped something under a cup and then lifted it to get a better look, allowing it to escape.

Darting quickly the figure moved along any connected surface, hitting the wall and moving around. As if the figure was frantically searching for something.

“What is that?” Yancy demanded.

“I don’t know,” King admitted.

The Host chuckled, suddenly appearing in the room, he was careful not to use the door, “Yancy and the King of the Squirrels should greet the newest member of their family.”

“How’s that thing ours family?”[1] Yancy demanded.

The Host reached up and the figure particulate jumped him and the chittering, echoing scream died down as it just started devouring the Host’s aura. Which would have been a problem if they weren’t doing the equivalent of using a thimble to drink out of an ocean.

The Host had a smile on his face. “They have a diet that consists primarily of aura but in a couple months they should be on solid food. And they are King’s child.”

“My what?” King screamed. “I can’t have kids, not on my own, and I can’t have them in a day.”

“The King of the Squirrels was hit by a soul splitter. Normally a soul splitter would kill a human, or splinter them, but the King of the Squirrels is lucky that he was not human. So the soul splitter merely snapped off a portion of the King of Squirrels’s soul to create his child.”

“So they’re a part of me,” King asked, hesitantly reaching out his hand and the figure snapped onto King’s hand. He felt a tingling as the figure began trying to consume his aura before standing calmly on King’s shoulder. “You got your own name little buddy?”

“Lunky,” the Host introduced.

“Lunky?” King smiled, the figure turning to look at him. It almost sounded like they were purring. “That right or is Uncle Host playing a joke on me?”

Lunky went back to exploring the room. Now that there was no danger, reality clouded around King’s mind.

“What am I going to do?” King panicked a little bit. “I can’t take care of a kid! I can barely take care of myself.”

“Youse[2] got this,” Yancy reassured. “Youse are the most responsible ‘a all’a us.”[3]

King did feel a little better but at that moment Dr. Iplier walked in and saw all of them standing up.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Iplier demanded, leaving the door open. It was an action that immediately caught Lunky’s attention as they realized there was a world beyond the four walls they were in.

“Surprise, I’m not dying anymore?” King tried.

“Ahh, Iplier has made a mistake,” the Host grinned as Lunky’s figure stretched vertically and grabbed onto the door.

“Oh no!” King realized, as Lunky was already speeding along the walls, looking for aura to eat. They were following an old trail that Anti had left a couple hours ago, following it to Henrik’s office before doubling back and slipping through the sliding front door that activated as Lunky neared them. And with that he had escaped the hospital before Yancy could make it down the hall to look for them, cursing as he went.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. How is that thing our family?

2. You’ve

3. You’re the most responsible out of all of us.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Bad Break

Shinobu Kochou x Fem Reader

Warnings: Sexual suggestions, but no smut.

(Y/n) suffered a pretty substantial compound fracture when a demon twisted her arm until it cracked grotesquely. Luckily, one of the two demon slayers who had joined her on the mission managed to get her out of there before her arm could be completely ripped off. The third member of their ragtag team managed to behead the miserable creature and once the dust settled they jumped into action, carrying (Y/n) off to the Butterfly Estate for immediate emergency surgery.

When the team arrived, (Y/n) was on the edge of passing out, occasionally jolting awake from pain of her arm being jostled. Aoi met them at the entrance and led them to a sterile room, where (Y/n) was set down with care. Aoi ushered the two other demon slayers out and Kanao began prep for surgery. Sweat collected on (Y/n)’s brow, her eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted together as her uniform top was removed and antiseptic washed over her battered arm. She could barely take it anymore when she felt a cool hand brush her hair off of her sticky forehead. (Y/n) willed herself to crack one eye open to see the blurred, but recognizable figure of the Insect Pillar herself staring back down at her. “Shinobu, hi.” (Y/n) croaked out a greeting, trying to sound like she wasn’t in immense pain, but the strained gasping tone did little to convince anyone, least of all Shinobu. “Hello, love.” Shinobu answered in her usual sweet tone. “You’ve really gotten yourself in some trouble this time.” She continued to talk as she put together a tray with all manner of tools on the bedside table. “This is a very bad break, and you’ll need to be put under before we can push the bone back in place and sew everything back up.” She explained, knowing you’d feel better if you knew what was going on. “Okay, I’m ready whenever.” (Y/n) then groaned and inhaled sharply. Even her girlfriend’s butterfly light grip on her wrist felt like torture. “Or you know, the sooner I don’t have to feel this the better.” She quickly muttered in a harsh exhale. “I know you must be in a lot of pain.” Shinobu cooed, her other hand coming into view with a large needle. “I’m going to inject the anesthesia now and Kanao will hook up an IV to keep a steady flow going throughout the procedure.” She leaned in close and gave a gentle kiss to (Y/n)’s temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I love you.” “I love you, too.” (Y/n) replied, her jaw clenched tightly, making the words come out sounding a bit harsh compared to the tenderness in which Shinobu had just spoken. Soon (Y/n) felt her eyelids become heavy and she was out like a light. *** The surgery had taken a little over seven hours. Bone fragments had splintered and needed to to tweezed away, taking up a lot of time. Shinobu was just glad there was enough bone to save and set back into place. She much preferred her girlfriend with both arms intact and a little extra work was worth keeping that a reality. Shinobu looked on as (Y/n) continued to breathe easily, a large cast encasing her arm. Unfortunately, (Y/n) would have a jagged scar running the length of her forearm, but with physical therapy she should regain full mobility of her wrist, hand, and fingers within the year. Shinobu mentally cursed the demon that did this for probably the thousandth time within twenty-four hours. It just had to be her dominant arm too, Shinobu’s favorite. Well, this could lead to some interesting physical therapy exercises later. Shinobu thought with a smirk. Shinobu suddenly leaned closer to (Y/n) when she began to stir. Shinobu smiled when hazy (e/c) eyes found her own. “Hi sweetheart, are you coming out of the anesthesia fog okay?” She asked, booping the bedridden girl on the nose. Shinobu was mildly surprised with the offended scoff that came from her girlfriend. “Jus’ whodoya think you are?” (Y/n) glared, looking more like a sleepy puppy than anything. “Excuse me?” Shinobu smiled. “Oh don play coy withme. You just took my nose I felt it. Now give it baaaack.” “Oh dear,” Shinobu hummed. It seemed that the effects of the anesthesia were lingering a bit. She debated with herself on whether or not she should play along, but the pout on (Y/n)’s face was so cute, it would be a crime not to tease her a bit. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. For you see, I found it first.” “Tha- whu- come on! You already have a very cute nose, you don’t need another.” “Hmmm a compelling argument, but I really like this one so I think I’ll keep it.” Shinobu said, holding her fist out as if something was clutched within her fingers. (Y/n) went to grab the extended fist and winced, looking down at her tightly bound arm for the first time. “What is this?” She tapped the cast and gasped at the knocking sound that reached her ears. She looked up at Shinobu with tears in her eyes and startled her girlfriend with the sad breaking of her voice as she spoke. “My bones are out! I- My nose wasn’t enough? You had to steal my skin too? I thought you loved me, but you’re just taking my organs to sell on the black market!” “Honey, it’s a cast. I didn’t steal your skin.” Shinobu chuckled warmly. “Here you can have your nose back too, I’m sorry I took it.” It was all fun and games until (Y/n) started crying, even in this loopy drugged up state, Shinobu hated to see (Y/n) cry. “Thank you.” (Y/n) sniffled. “But what about my bones?” “(Y/n), it’s a cast. I promise your bones are under your skin where they belong. The cast is for protection while your arm heals.” “You promise?” “I promise.” “Shinobu, I love you.” “I love you too.” “I love you even though you stole my nose.” “I’m so lucky.” Shinobu smiled. (Y/n)’s eyes slipped closed and she was soon asleep again. Shinobu placed a soft kiss to the girl’s forehead. *** “I got your nose~” Shinobu teased. She had snuck up on (Y/n) while she was doing her physical therapy exercises and greeted her with a boop to the snoot. “Argh, Shinobu! Can you please stop teasing me about that, it's been three weeks!” (Y/n) blushed and tried to return her attention to her current task. “Oh, but you were so cute. It’s not often I see you act so childish.” “Ughhh whatever.” (Y/n) sighed in frustration when her fingers failed to grip correctly and the tool fell from her grasp. “I feel like I’m getting nowhere with this. If that demon hadn’t distracted me, I wouldn’t have gotten into this mess to begin with. Now my arm is basically useless. I can’t even make a fist properly.” “Don’t get discouraged, these types of injuries take time to heal. You can’t expect to be a hundred percent after only three weeks.” “I know,” (y/n) sighed, “Doesn’t make it suck any less though. I do everything with this hand.” “Oh believe me. I know.” Shinobu replied with a smirk that did not go unnoticed. “I wasn’t even thinking about that!” (Y/n) yelled in embarrassment. “Thinking about what? Care to enlighten me?” Shinobu teased, wrapping her arms around (Y/n)’s waist. “Just forget it. You know what you were implying!” (Y/n) grumped, leaning into Shinobu’s touch nonetheless. “You know, if this exercise isn’t working for you I have something else in mind you could try.” Shinobu whispered. “Well...” (Y/n) stopped to clear her throat. “You’re the professional. I’m willing to try whatever methods you have to recommend.” “Excellent, come with me and I promise you won’t regret it.” Shinobu spoke sweetly and began to tug (Y/n) along with her. “I certainly hope not, you might regret it though.” (Y/n) laughed, placing her limp fingers over Shinobu’s hand.

[hold-your-applause]

congrats on 200!! ♡ can i ask for nishinoya + 5, please?

Look, my eyes are dry

The gift was ours to borrow

It's as if we always knew

And I won't forget what I did for love

Swan Song

Yuu knew what the words meant, but for some reason, when he heard them, he couldn't wrap his mind around them. Instead, they seemed to hang in the air uselessly between him and the adult who spoke to him.

"They sustained an extensive amount of nerve damage. The doctors did everything they could."

It couldn't be true.

"But they will likely never play the violin again."

The accident had been serious. The other car was going well above the speed limit and had hit you dead on. They said it was a miracle you had even survived in the first place, but Yuu had never doubted that you would live through it.

But now, you were going to have to live with it.

And it wasn't leaving him feeling so confident.

He had known you almost his whole life, and he couldn't remember a time when you weren't playing. Your parents had initially started sending you to lessons because they decided it was in your best interest to participate in some kind of extracurricular activity that wasn't too physical, but you never once complained. You had fallen in love with it from the first day, and when you weren't otherwise occupied, you would be found with it tucked against your neck.

It was as much a part of your body as your own heart was.

It was something that had now been selfishly ripped away from you.

He didn't remember pushing past your parents to head into your hospital room, nor did he hear them trying to tell him you needed rest, so he was surprised to find himself suddenly standing in your doorway just as you turned your head to look at him.

But he was even more shocked to see you smiling at him.

"Hey, Yuu."

He stared at you for a moment, wondering for a moment if maybe you hadn't been given the news yet, but when he saw the state of your arms, he knew there was no way you wouldn't figure it out on your own.

The bandages reached so far up your arms that they disappeared under the sleeves of your hospital shirt, and if he wasn't mistaken, they were peeking out from under the collar. Your hands rested limply in your lap, and he was sure that the effort to lift them would be too difficult so soon after your surgery.

For once, he didn't know what to say.

"You can come in, you know. I'm not going to bite."

He blinked, then coughed and stepped further in, moving to the side of your bed.

"Right, sorry."

He almost reached out to take your hand on instinct, but managed to stop himself, instead letting his own hand hang at his side helplessly.

"... How are you feeling?"

He was afraid to ask, but he figured it was better to get it out of the way.

"I feel okay. Everything aches and I'm still tired from the anesthesia, but otherwise I'm just fine."

He let out a breath of relief.

"Great. That's great."

His eyes landed on your bandaging again, unable to help himself. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"Did they--"

"Yes. They did."

He winced, feeling his chest tighten at the sad smile you gave him with your answer.

"And you're fine?"

You nodded.

"Yeah. They told me about twenty minutes ago. I've had a little time to think about it."

He shook his head, not understanding.

"How can you be smiling right now?"

You leaned back, shifting against the pillow behind you to get more comfortable.

"I was already pushing it by playing as often as I did. It's not natural to stand the way I would for who knows how many hours a day. I was running a real risk of causing my own muscle damage in my arms by not slowing down. It's a conversation I've already had with myself, and it was a future I was aware could become real."

He shook his head again.

"But this wasn't because you weren't careful. This was because of someone else. You can't pretend it's the same thing."

You were always strong. When his own emotions would get the better of him, you were the one with the level head to talk him down and think rationally. You were the reason he didn't get in more trouble than he already did. Your logical and realistic approach to life kept him in check.

But he didn't want you to think this time.

He wanted you to feel.

"It is what it is, Yuu. I can't do anything about it."

"So what?!"

His sudden volume surprised you for what must have been the first time in your life. You were used to his outbursts, but there wasn't ever a time he yelled at you.

"It doesn't matter that it makes sense to move on! None of this makes sense, anyway! It doesn't make sense that the one thing you loved most was taken from you! So if the world isn't going to play by the rules then why should you?!"

You opened your mouth to remind him that you were in a hospital and needed to be more respectful of the other patients, but you stopped yourself, and he used that moment to gingerly take one of your hands in both of his.

"Please... you're always there when I need to lean on someone. Lean on me for once."

He was begging you.

You frowned, looking down at your joined hands. You could barely feel the pressure from his grip, and if the bandages weren't blocking his warmth, the anaesthesia was.

You felt empty and full at the same time.

With some effort, you lifted your other hand to rest on his, letting out a breath as your fingers layered over his.

"Yuu... this was always going to be temporary. Just as there was a first time, there was always eventually going to be a last time, too. There was going to be a day where I never picked up a violin again. Where I stopped playing. That day was always coming."

He was going to argue with you, but he stopped when he saw your eyes suddenly turn glassy, and when you opened your mouth to speak again, all that escaped was a wet sob.

His next heartbeat had him sitting next to you on the bed, carefully moving his arm behind you to pull you closer into his side. His other hand never left yours as you tried to calm yourself enough to speak.

Even though this is what he wanted, his heart broke at the sound of your thick voice.

"I wasn't ready for it to be this soon."

[adolanables]

Linked - Part 11 (E.D)

Masterlist

The border of Hailette was nearly two hours away from the town center; which was plenty of time for Anna to start panicking. All she could think of was all the ways they would kill her if they got caught. She was also thinking about how heartbroken her parents would be finding out she had left. A part of her hoped her mother would understand, knowing Anna’s life would be so much more fulfilling outside of Hailette. 

“We’re almost there.” Ethan broke the silence, eyes narrowing on the small patrol station up on the road. He felt her tense underneath him, his right hand rubbed circles on her thigh. “Breathe, okay?”

She nodded as they approached the border, her heart dropping to her stomach as she saw the station was manned. Before she could speak, Ethan was reaching back into the duffel bag, giving Anna a warning eye before he pulled a pistol up into his lap. “Not a peep.” He whispered, sliding the gun under his right thigh and rolling down the window. As they approached the station, he rolled the window down, his right hand gripping the pistol tightly. 

“Sir, may I ask what you think you’re doing?” The officer snarled, his hand gripping the gun on his waist. Ethan was grateful there was only one person manning the station right now - he had scoped out the parking lot. Before the officer could move, Ethan was pulling the trigger with the gun aimed at the poor man’s forehead. 

As the sound rang through Anna’s ears and blood splattered onto Ethan’s face, the pair saw the world shift before their eyes. Ethan was quiet, eyes welling up with tears as he turned the safety on and put the gun back in the bag. Truly, they thought they were home-free. As Ethan went to lean into the small room to open the gate, what felt like hundreds of trucks popped into the rearview with lights blazing. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Ethan muttered, wide eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror and back to his wife who looked like she’d just seen a ghost. He didn’t know what to do. Logically, he knew this was a possibility, but he had convinced himself it wasn’t going to happen. Every possible scenario ran through his head; he didn’t have a plan and that terrified him. 

“Ethan, what are we going to do?” With shaky hands, Anna reached over to him to grab his attention. The trucks were speeding down the road and would easily be there in seconds. 

In a split second decision, Ethan reached over his wife for the gun, popped the safety and pointed it at her feet. “Ethan - wait - what are you - ah!” Anna saw red as her entire left leg went numb, vision was black - she was unconscious. As he watched his wife contort in severe pain, knowing it was his own fault, Ethan burst into tears. Not long after, strapped military members were at their windows - eyes wide as they took in Ethan Dolan and a dead security guard.

-

“Mr. Dolan I am so incredibly sorry for the actions of our employee.” Sergeant Daniels sighed, softly sinking down into the seat across from Ethan’s desk at Dolan Industries. “You have to understand why he was concerned with the two of you wanting to leave.”

“I do, Sergeant.” Ethan nodded, letting out a sigh at the pure ignorance of the man in front of him. “I know sir - being drunk doesn’t excuse trying to go on a vacation to Florida.”

“That is one funny explanation.” Sergeant Daniels laughed awkwardly. “Doesn’t excuse him shooting your poor wife - thank God it was just her leg.”

“Thank god.” Ethan agreed, fumbling a pen between his fingers. “Really sorry for keeping you all here so late.”

It was nearing 5AM now - when the guards had approached the car the attitude had instantly changed. Ethan had convinced them that he was inebriated and really just wanted to take his hot wife to Florida. Did they actually believe him? Hard to know, but it seemed like he was getting away with it. Anna had been transferred to the hospital downtown for emergency care and Ethan felt like he was going to vomit as she was loaded into an ambulance. If cheating wasn’t already bad enough, he wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive him for this. 

“It’s not a problem at all sir.” Sergeant Daniels smiled. “Your brother is on his way to give you a ride home.”

-

“What the fuck, Ethan?” Grayson seethed as his twin climbed into his car, blood splattered on his shirt and sporting a new haircut. 

“Grayson, can you promise me you aren’t plotting my demise?” Ethan whispered, eyes darting around as Grayson started to drive.

“Uh… the fuck? Yes?” With furrowed brows and confusion on his face, Grayson looked at his brother like he had two heads. Ethan knew right away he was being honest.

“I’m trusting you to not open your mouth to Kennedy - but I cheated on Anna.” Ethan rolled his eyes as Grayson’s jaw dropped in disgust. “I know. Shitty. But the bitch filmed us and is threatening to release the footage.”

“And that made you want to go to Florida…?” 

“No - jesus - Grayson - we were trying to leave.” Running a hand over his shaved head, he watched Grayson process what he was saying. “If that video gets released Anna’s fucked.”

“Okay, but you might not be?” Grayson argued, hands clenching the steering wheel tightly. “You risked both of your lives just now.” 

“I love her.” Ethan scoffed, folding his arms. “You’d do the same for Kennedy.”

“No I fucking wouldn’t.” Glancing over at his brother with wide eyes. “I love her, but not like that.” He gulped and let out a slow breath. “But if you love Anna that way, then I’m here for you - what do we need to do.”

“Call Craig - first thing in the morning.” Ethan muttered as Grayson dropped him at his front door, he leaned over and hugged his brother tightly. “Thank you, G.”

“I’ll be back here at 10AM.” Grayson nodded, revving the engine as he drove away.

As Ethan laid his head down on his guest room pillow - he couldn’t bear to sleep in their bed alone - he felt sick. He wished he could’ve gone with Anna to the hospital, but they took her away from him so quickly. Surely, she’d be questioned and he hoped she wouldn’t be in any danger. If he had been able to tell her the plan before he shot her, he would have, but he knew they didn’t have time. He had to get to the hospital in the morning before she woke up. 

-

“You owe me big time.” Grayson muttered as Ethan slid into the car the next morning; both had matching eyebags. “Dad is fucking furious - I calmed him down enough to stay home, but Craig is on it.”

“You called dad?” Ethan groaned, tossing his head back as the pair took off to the hospital. 

“No - but Craig did.” Rolling his eyes at his brother, Grayson sped up. “He’s pissed at the entire situation, but whoever’s threatening you is gonna regret it.”

Ethan let the car fall silent as he mulled over his thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do was get his dad involved in the situation, but he knew if anyone was going to protect him, it was his father. The Dolans were nearly untouchable in Hailette; he only hoped Anna would be included. 

-

“Hi, Mr. Dolan.” The polite nurse smiled at the handsome man before her as she guided him down the hallway. “Your wife is in recovery, still a bit groggy. She had some severe hemorrhaging, but aside from scars - her leg is fine.” As they approached the door of her room, the nurse’s face fell slightly. “I’m very sorry sir, but the baby did not make it.”

“What?” Ethan stuttered, brows furrowing as he tried to comprehend what she was saying.

“Yes sir, I am very sorry. We believe she miscarried due to the trauma.” The small lady smiled sympathetically and pushed the door open, smiling softly. 

“Ethan.” Anna croaked as her husband came into view, he looked nearly as awful as she assumed she looked. She knew he shot her, but she was still pretty confused and unable to piece anything together. 

“Anna,” He sighed, bounding towards her and pulling her upper body into his arms. “I’m so sorry.” A wince left her mouth as he gently let her go. Before she could ask him to explain himself, Ethan was sputtering. “I panicked - okay - I’m so sorry, I made up a story. We got drunk and wanted to go to Florida and I said the guard shot you so I shot back.”

“O-Okay.” She nodded, trying to understand, but her mind was clouded with other things. “Ethan, they told me I lost a baby.” Her voice was quiet and soft, barely above a whisper as she looked to her husband to explain. 

“They just told me that as well.” Crouching down on the edge of her bed so he was eye level with her, “I’m so sorry, Anna - this is all my fault.”

“Are we in trouble?” She squeaked, tugging on her fingers nervously. So much had just happened in the last twenty-four hours, she wasn’t sure what to think. The anesthesia still wearing off was not helping her either. 

Shaking his now bald head, Ethan rubbed a soft circle on her wrist. “I don’t think so; we are working to find whoever is threatening us to stop that.” His voice was secure and calming; Anna was grateful he was here, even if she was furious with him. “I think they planned to question you, but I’m going to let them know we lost a child.” 

Anna watched as Ethan’s eyes welled up and he pressed a soft kiss to her hand, sniffling a bit before standing up. “I’m going to let Grayson know the situation and I’ll be back.” He kissed her forehead before walking out of the room briskly.

The only feeling Anna had at the moment was confusion. She had found out Ethan cheated on her, was being blackmailed, tried to escape Hailette, witnessed a murder, got shot by her husband, found out she was pregnant, and lost a baby all in one day. All she wanted to do was go home to sleep in her own bed for hours - maybe even days. 

When Ethan came back into the room, she was asleep again. The nurse helped Ethan with the discharge paper - knowing she should probably keep Mrs. Dolan another night, but Ethan was adamant that they were going home. Grayson helped get Anna into the backseat of his car as Ethan held her tightly into his side. She was awake - just barely - but the combination of exhaustion and pain meds was all too much. 

-

“Ethan Grant - what the fuck were you thinking?” Mr. Dolan’s voice bellowed through the large foyer of Ethan’s grand home. Anna was deeply asleep on pain medicine, so there was no chance of waking her. 

“I wasn’t, father.” Ethan sighed, shutting the door behind his dad and their detective Craig. “I don’t need to be told what I did was stupid.”

“Stupid?” Mr. Dolan chuckled sarcastically as Craig walked into the dining room to speak with Grayson. “What you did was damn near suicidal - and murderous to your poor wife.”

Ethan didn’t respond to his father’s slander knowing everything he said was completely true. Ethan was not acting like a grown man - he needed to grow up. “Yes sir.”

“Craig has a lead.” Grayson spoke from the other room, drawing the argument to a close.

Craig was an older man with gray hair, but he was not to be underestimated. There have been many cases he has worked on for the Dolans over the years and he had never let them down. “How much do you know about your assistant, Jonathan?”

“Uh - not much - he has worked for me for a while?” Lifting an eyebrow at the comment, Ethan folded his arms over his chest. 

“Well - we found the skanky redhead you fucked, offered her some money to snitch. Which she did.” Mr. Dolan snapped. “She’s dead.”

Ethan rubbed a hand over his face in distress and nodded, knowing that was inevitable. The Dolans weren’t going to let some lowless bartender threaten their family. 

“She gave us Jonathan by name - not sure how she’d have that information unless she’s being honest.” Craig shrugged, thumbing through a stack of papers in his lap. “Of course, we are running through every lead; but he’s up there.” Craig cleared his throat again. “Now - we need to discuss your wife.”

“What about her?” Ethan bristled at the mention of Anna. 

“I don’t think we have to worry because of the miscarraige.” Craig emphasized, but held his hands up in caution. “But we need to be sure - if anyone finds out why we are investigating right now she could be in danger.”

“No one lays a hand on her.” Ethan seethed, pointing his finger around the room. “I want her treated like a Dolan.”

“Son - you know that’s not -” Mr. Dolan started.

“I don’t CARE!” Ethan bellowed, jumping out of the chair with his fists clenched by his sides and his face red. “If a SINGLE thing happens to her, it will be as though someone castrated ME. TREAT IT LIKE THAT!” His chest was rising and falling quickly. “I will BURN this country to the ground if a single hair on her head is harmed.”

“Understood.” Craig nodded, shutting the folder in his lap and shooting Mr. Dolan a look that said - let’s get the hell out of here.

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor bound 2 - 5

This is a series. Start here. Continued from here. 

This is a sequel series to Honor Bound.

AO3

Something was wrong in Gray’s chest. I can’t breathe, why can’t I breathe right, why can’t I… Pain in, pain out. Pain in, pain out. They pushed a sound out of their throat that was something like a whimper.

“They’re awake. Finn, come here. Gray? Gray, can you hear me?”

The voice was coming from somewhere and they were underwater. Why am I underwater? Might be why my chest hurts. They opened their mouth, gaping for the air that had to be nearby.

“Gray, it’s alright…just breathe, there you go…just breathe…”

I am breathing. It just hurts too much. Pain in, pain out.

“I think they’re in pain. Can you hit the button to call the nurse? Maybe they need -”

A strangled sound left their throat. Their hand moved up to their chest and they pawed at where the pain was coming from. If I can just dig the pain out…

“Grab their arm. Gray, stop. Leave that alone. You’ll tear your stitches. Sam… Sam…help me, grab their arm, there you go.”

“Why aren’t they waking up?”

“They’re still a little sedated. Gray, you’re ok. Squeeze if you can hear me.”

I can try.

“Good! Good. Gray. Oh…come on, breathe. You’re alright.”

Where’s Tori.

The thought crashed over them and froze their chest again. Where’s Tori. She’s in trouble, someone…someone took her… They whimpered as they tried to remember. They had to tell someone. Someone had to go save Tori. Please, please help her, leave me alone and help her…

“Gray, please! Just relax, Gray, let go…”

Please. Please, god, let her be alive. Leave me and go find her. Someone…why can’t I…

“That nurse should be here by now. Ellis, can you -”

“Of course.”

“Isaac, come here, help me… Gray, relax, it’s just us, you’re safe…”

But where’s Tori. Someone help Tori.

Gavin. Gavin has Tori. The thought punched them in the gut. They moaned, the pain spiking in their chest. Gavin shot me and he has Tori.

They thought they could feel tears on their cheeks, or it could have been the water. Am I still underwater? The voices around them sounded clearer. Maybe…

“Gray, stop…stop pulling at that. Vera, can you find something to restrain them with? I can’t…”

SOMEONE FIND TORI. SOMEONE HELP HER.

They could hear someone screaming, far off in the distance. Screaming and sobbing. God, someone else is hurt…help them too, did Gavin hurt them too? Please…no no no please god someone help her… I couldn’t save her…he shot me…

They felt something winding around their wrists, tying them down. Fine, torture me, hurt me, just please…don’t hurt Tori, don’t hurt my Tori…

“Oh my god. What happened?”

“They woke up and started pulling at the bandages. They pulled one of their IVs, I’m sorry…we couldn’t hold them down…”

“Let me get them some more medication. Sometimes people have a bad reaction to the anesthesia…”

“Can we get some better restraints? These will work for now, but…”

“Let me see what I can find. Did they manage to tear the bandages?”

“No. Just the line.”

“Ok. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

God, my chest. What are they doing to me? My chest…hurts… They choked out a twisted sob.

“Gray, you’re alright… You’re in the hospital. They’ll get you some more medication. You’re safe, Gray.”

Safe? Then why am I hurting? Why am I tied down? They pulled uselessly at the restraints. Save Tori. Do whatever you want to me but save Tori. They dragged in a gasp.

“Gray, please…” That voice. It was thick with tears, but…important. That voice was close. That voice was family. “Gray, it’s ok…you’re safe, I’m ok. Vera got me. We’re all here with you.”

They twisted closer to the voice, tears wetting the pillow under their head. Their lips trembled around the word. “T- To-ori…”

“Yeah, Gray. It’s me. I’m so…I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…you almost died, for…for me…”

“Tori, don’t. You can talk about this when they’re more awake.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry…” A sniffle. A hand in theirs. It was warm, and they squeezed. “There you go, Gray, hold on to me… We’re safe…”

I’ll never let you go. Never let you go again. Never let him hurt you again.

“He’s d-dead, Gray, he’s dead… We’re safe.”

A slow, rattling breath moved through their chest. I believe you.

“There you go. That’s good, Gray. Breathe. There you go.”

“Sorry that took so long… They’re looking a lot better.”

“I think they needed Tori. Needed to hear her voice.”

“I’ll still give some more fentanyl. It looks like they’re still hurting.”

Yes. God, it hurts.

“Will that put them under again?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It’ll help with the pain for sure.”

“Ok. Thank you.”

“There. That should start working within the next few minutes. Come get me if they get agitated again.”

“Will do. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Still, always, that warm hand in theirs.

“Gray, that pain will start going away soon, ok? If you need to go back to sleep you can.”

But I need to see her. Need to see Tori.

Pressure on their forehead. Hair brushing their face. And still, that hand in theirs. They held on like they were dangling over a cliff.

“They already look better.”

“Yeah, fentanyl’s good shit.”

The pain in their chest was ebbing away, settling and shrinking until it was a dull ache. Every breath still hurt. Pain in, pain out. But they could breathe. Their chest expanded and fell.

Their grip on her hand was loosening, fading. Panic spiked in them for a moment.

“It’s ok, Gray. You can fall asleep. I’ll be right here with you, the whole time.”

Don’t leave. Please don’t leave.

The world faded away again.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts​​, @womping-grounds​​, @blue-flare10​​, @free-2bmee​​, @quirkykayleetam​​, @walkingchemicalfire​​, @inpainandsuffering​​, @redwingedwhump​​, @burtlederp​​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​, @insomniacscoprio​​, @whumpy101​​, @whumpywhumper​​, @stxck-fxck​​, @omega-em-z-02​, @whumps-the-word

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

It was a love story from the very beginning.

Vol. XXXVI

Goodbye my Love. Goodbye Stranger.

(8x17)

Hello My Friends! How are you? Another important meta from season 8, and we are here... We are in the crypt scene!! Our hearts will break... 😭

I want to say thank you to my friend @agusvedder she made the gifs for this meta and discussed with me the episode.

Okay... Let's do this... **Deep breath**

Sam knows

In episode 8x17 Goodbye Stranger, Sam and Dean knew Castiel was behaving weird.

Although that, Dean had prayed to him because he was worried about Sam, but as we learned in the previous volume of this Chronicles, he didn't pray just for that, but also, because he wanted to see Castiel. Because Dean missed him and he was worried about him too.

So, when Sam discovered Dean was praying to him, even knowing Castiel was acting weird, he didn't just ask once, but twice about why his brother prayed to him...

This first time, Sam is in awe, but this second time... With the whole thing digested, and with Castiel off, Sam is more direct.

DEAN: Well, he puts the "ass" in "Cas," huh?

SAM: He's definitely off.

DEAN: Off? He hasn't been right since he got back from Purgatory. We still don't know how he got out of there

Okay, this is a discussion the brother had had already, maybe a lot of times. They both were agreed about Castiel behaving weird. Then... Sam has this clear, but it caught his attention Dean's doesn't have things clear apparently, because he prayed to him. So... Here is the question, direct, and without anesthesia...

And Dean's face is acting everything. Okay, you can argue with me about this point, because later on this episode we will have this dialogue...

SAM: I'm fine.

DEAN: No, you're not fine. You haven't been fine since the first trial. That's why I called Cas.

Yes, Dean prayed to Castiel because he was worried about Sam, we already knew that... But... What we know too is... He prayed waiting for Castiel to appear right there in his room, remember? So... One of the reason, the big one, is the necessity of Castiel to heal his brother, to protect him, but the Hidden One, that one that makes Dean try to hide, and put himself flustered when Sam asked him the reason why, I because he wanted to see Cas, because he's worried about him, and he missed him. Because he loves him.

So here he had the perfect motive again to show his brother he called Cas because he was worried about his little brother's healthy... Perfect... No homo there my friends... Just a worried brother calling for his totally platonic bro/friend to help him.

But Sam is insightful and clever, I want you to jump with me to the last scene... We can do that because we all know this episode like our names, so... A little more of Sammy knows...

After the crypt scene, they were back on the road in baby, Castiel had left, as we know, and this is what Dean says to Sam...

SAM: So... what happened? I mean, Cas touched the tablet, and it reset him to his factory settings or something?

DEAN: I don't know. And I don't care. All I know is that he is off the reservation with a-a heavenly WMD. Listen, man, I can't take any more lies -- from anyone.

Dean is mad, Sam gets it immediately, he's mad. But not at Sam. Sam gets that too.

Because when Dean avoids a topic... Is because that's really affecting him...

And then... This song starts to play... And watch Sammy's face...

These are the lyrics from Goodbye Stranger

It was an early morning yesterday

I was up before the dawn

And I really have enjoyed my stay

But I must be moving on

Like a king without a castle

Like a queen without a throne

I'm an early morning lover

And I must be moving on

Okay, this is a lover of one night, a lover that doesn't get strains to anyone. After Dean confessed his feelings to Castiel on that crypt, Castiel decides to run away with the tablet, leaving Dean alone, heartbroken and feeling unrequited. Again.

Now I believe in what you say

Is the undisputed truth

But I have to have things my own way

To keep me in my youth

We are still talking about Castiel here.

Like a ship without an anchor

Like a slave without a chain

Just the thought of those sweet ladies

Sends a shiver through my veins

Castiel deciding to leave again, he rejected Dean's feelings (from Dean's POV) and help. He's a lone wolf. B

And I will go on shining

Shining like brand new

I'll never look behind me

My troubles will be few

Goodbye stranger it's been nice

Hope you find your paradise

Tried to see your point of view

Hope your dreams will all come true

And we had reached Dean's POV at this point, he's mad, and very very angry. Because he was rejected and Cas didn't trust him. So he's saying goodbye to him.

Goodbye Mary, goodbye Jane

Will we ever meet again

Feel no sorrow, feel no shame

Come tomorrow, feel no pain

Dean pushing down all his feelings again.

Sweet devotion (Goodbye, Mary)

It's not for me (Goodbye, Jane)

Just give me motion (Will we ever)

To set me free (Meet again?)

In the land and the ocean (Feel no sorrow)

Far away (Feel no shame)

It's the life I've chosen (Come tomorrow)

Every day (Feel no pain)

So goodbye, Mary (Goodbye, Mary)

Goodbye, Jane (Goodbye, Jane)

Will we ever (Will we ever)

Meet again? (Meet again?)

This is Dean trying to say goodbye to his feeling for Castiel, is not for me, goodbye sweet devotion, because he feels so hurted and heartbroken, he decides to push everything down, because he feel unrequited.

Now... Let's come back to one important thing right here... Megstiel time...

Megstiel brought us Jealous!Dean back again

The classic Megstiel scene, is quite interesting, because Meg can't stop to seduce Cas by throwing at him a lot of sugestives quotes... I won't talk about the whole conversation, Agua is making a gifset I will relate with this meta because sadly, I just can put 10 gifs to show you all the things I saw, but what I want to point here is an idea I constructed in my head since I met Castiel. Please read this mini meta here I wrote time ago, about Castiel's seduction techniques.

And you will catch what I need to show you now in this piece of dialogue...

CASTIEL: These wounds have festered. [CASTIEL wraps gauze around one of MEG's wrists.]

MEG: You really do know how to make a girl's nethers quiver, don't you? [MEG is sitting on the couch, holding an open bottle of booze, she's been cleaned up a bit.]

CASTIEL: I am aware of how to do that. Although it doesn't usually involve cleaning wounds.

Did you read that?!!!!!! Cas is aware about seduction techniques!!

As I said on my mini meta, I'm pretty sure Castiel used his seduction techniques with Dean... And he still does that! Because HE KNOWS HOW TO DO THAT!!

Plus his innate sexiness... BOOM! HERE YOU HAVE THE HOTTEST ANGEL ON THE GARRISON.

Irresistible... PrayxDean.

Okay, let's talk about Jealous!Dean. We had two scenes in which we had Dean feeling jealous in Meg presence.

First scene, and how writers and producers are very aware of the fandom's ships... And they use it.

Dean is saying this with disgust, why he feels jealous always about Meg? Well, maybe because Castiel kissed Meg so passionate that time? And they had that special friendship in season 7???

And then this one... Dean acting like cockblocker, really Dean? Control your jealous face please 😏

The Crypt Scene

Okay, we're here, Carver era, crypt scene, a place in which Dean had to say I LOVE YOU to Cas, making Destiel canon, but he did, because Jensen's was so right back then, Dean wasn't prepared...

But... What happened in this crypt? Everything!

Okay, First of all, I need you to rewind the video, at the beginning of this episode, remember that scene with a lot of Dean's killed by Castiel, with Naomi watching? Yeah... She made Cas kill a lot.of Dean bc she knew what Cas felt for him. So she needed to be sure Cas will kill Dean when it will be needed. She was a bitch...

Then... When CAS and Dean were alone at the crypt, and Dean had the angel tablet in his hands... The program in Castiel's head started to roll. Dean noticed Castiel was trying to get the tablet, and he didn't trust in Cas because he was acting weird... So... He tried to get from the angel some truth... Like... How he had been pulled out from Purgatory...

CASTIEL: I can't let you take that, Dean.

DEAN: Can't or won't?

CASTIEL: Both.

DEAN: How did you get out of Purgatory, Cas?

Immediately, after seeing that wasn't HIS CAS, Dean threw that question.

The entire scene flips between the crypt and Naomi, and how CAS is trying so hard not to obey and keep Dean safe.

DEAN: Just tell me how you got out of Purgatory. Be honest with me -- for the first time since you've been back -- [DEAN nods towards the stone he's still holding] and this is yours. [CASTIEL's blade drops into his hand.]

Dean needed to hear the truth. Everything, he needed to hear too... Castiel didn't stay because he didn't want to come back with him... He needed Cas to say that was a lie too...

DEAN: Cas. Cas, I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you're in there and you can hear me, you don't have to do this. [CASTIEL attacks, DEAN blocks the blow with the stone.] Cas! [Flashes of light, thunder rumbles.]

Dean sees Castiel isn't there, he's defending himself against a robot, where is his friend? He tries to call h back, to drag him to reality. He tries because he believes he can reach him.

And while this is happening and Cas began to hit Dean, Naomi tries to keep him under control, because Castiel is fighting back strongly, Naomi wants him to protect the tablet and kill Dean, and Cas wants to protect DEAN.

NAOMI: Do you realize what that tablet can do for us?

CASTIEL: I...

NAOMI: For heaven?

CASTIEL: I won't hurt Dean.

NAOMI: Yes. You will. You are.

The scene is too intense, and Cas keeps hitting Dean, and Dean keeps calling him. Till... This happens...

Look at Dean's hand, trying to reach Castiel...

Dean is not just trying to reach Cas with his hand, but also with his words... He's sure Castiel is there, and he's sure he will listen, and he's sure Castiel will come back to him. That's why he tries with everything he has... With honesty. Tries to get him back with honest feelings and words... We need you... Not hell... Cas... I NEED YOU. The same words he used when he convinced him to follow him in Purgatory. I need you, don't leave me. This I NEED YOU is so so important, is the replacement of the I LOVE YOU that never happens. So is the big I NEED YOU. Dean's naked feelings. His last shot. His bare soul. Right there. Chest open, heart beating.

Dean is waiting for Castiel's reaction after his confession, and immediately after that honest I NEED YOU, Castiel breaks connection, and he's back again.

Not the tablet, why not? Because the I NEED YOU is what makes Cas stop. And when he touches the tablet, and Crowley reveals the tablet was what kept Castiel disconnected with Naomi, why he still was disconnected after losing the tablet? Pure logic, my friends, the tablet had nothing to do with this disconnection, it was Dean's I NEED YOU, who worked, and brought Cas back. The love. The Profound Bond.

And it hurts a lot, because while Castiel was hitting him, Dean was grabbing his forearm, with fear, he thought Cas will kill him... But he just couldn't stop grabbing him, he couldn't stop being close to him like that. He has to get his angel back... And when CAS reach's his face with his hand... Dean grabbed Castiel's forearm again, you have to rewatch the scene is so romantic and angsty, Dean was terrified, but he just remained there... Kneeled... Tryin to make Cas to hear him, and trying to get him back, and he did it.

The big question the writers left to us, we already know the answer...

DEAN: Well, w-what broke the connection?

CASTIEL: I don't know. I just know that I have to protect this tablet now.

DEAN: From Naomi?

CASTIEL: Yes. And from you.

Castiel said this, because it was Purgatory all over again, and Leviathans chasing after Cas, but this time, were Angels and a dangerous Naomi, so he needed to put that tablet safe and far away from everyone, and from Dean, to protect him again.

But what Dean understood here is CAS DOESN'T TRUST ME, AFTER I CONFESSED MY FEELINGS, HE DOESN'T TRUST ME. And his heart broke again, and we had to hear that song in the car... Dean is heartbroken, as the first half of the season showed us, tons of broken and eaten hearts... He's disappointed with CAS... And he's feeling rejected and unrequited...

To Conclude:

This episode showed us Sam Winchester getting the idea of what Dean feels for Castiel.

We also had Megstiel as a tool, because it brought us back Jealous Dean and we got the idea about how Castiel is conscious about seduction techniques.

But the most important scene, one of the most emblematic of Destiel scenes, was the Crypt scene. The I LOVE that never happened, but a huge love Confession from Dean to get Castiel back.

The confession brought Castiel back, but when the angel ran away from Dean, Dean felt rejected, heartbroken and unrequited, and he began to pushing all his feelings down again.

I hope you like this meta, I suffered a lot, but we'll.. I love this scene...

See you in the next one!

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @angelneedshunter @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @tenshilover20 @teddybeardoctor @pepevons

If you want to be tagged, just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas from Season 8, here you have the links...

Vol. XXXI, Vol. XXXII, Vol. XXXIII, Vol. XXXIV and Vol. XXXV

Buenos Aires November 5th 2019 8:11 PM

[yodawgiherd]

Scars that time can't heal

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Rating: M Setting: A modern AU, an Ex-Soldier Mikasa dealing with her inner demons.

I've got this idea to do a short story in what is basically the setting of my main fic with just a few modifications. It's something new, and I would really love to hear what you guys think about it. If you like it, I might do a continuation, as this thing could certainly be expanded. Thanks a lot and Enjoy! :D

Lights. Voices. Pain.

Every breath Mikasa took prompted a thousand needles inside her to prick and tear, to create more and more of the suffering. She would cry if she could. She would scream if she could. But she couldn’t.

Mikasa couldn’t do anything.

They were taking her somewhere, formless faces and blurred figures, talking in voices that were drowned in the rush of blood in her ears. It wasn’t that hard to realize what was happening to her. Mikasa was dying, plain and simple.

A figure appeared to the right of her, catching up to the others, a face that seemed somewhat familiar. Could it be… ?

“Jean?”, Mikasa rasped, every syllable dearly paid for by more pain.

The figure leaned closer, revealing its face.

“Mikasa! Mikasa can you hear me?!”, his hand grasped hers, tightly squeezing the numb fingers, “Hang in there!”

She wanted to tell him to shut up, to just let her die in peace, but another coughing fit overcame her. The movement stopped. Hands lifted her for a moment before depositing the hurt soldier on a proper hospital bed, already smelling of someone else’s blood which soon mixed with the stench of her own, still gushing from the wounds on her body, leaking through the impromptu bandages. Mikasa could see Jean’s head moving from left to right as he looked around, desperate to find someone that would help her, but to no avail. She wasn’t that surprised, the sudden attack took them completely by surprise, catching the US military with their pants down. There must have been dozens of dead, hundreds of wounded, and Mikasa wasn’t that important anyway. Soon, she would be just another casualty of war.

Out of nowhere, another shadow fell over her, as gentle hands ghosted over the bandages.

“What happened?”, a new voice asked.

“A grenade, we didn’t see it coming. Exploded right next to us and….”, Jean’s response was rushed, but quite accurate, “Shrapnel tore into her, fragments…”

“God damn it,”, swore the new voice, “I’m not qualified for this, someone else has to…”

“I’ll take care of her.”

A new voice, young but somewhat rough. Mikasa couldn’t see the speaker, the only thing she could see was the burning tip of the cigarette in his mouth.

“You? Didn’t you hear the captain?”, the unqualified medic cut in, “You’ve been awake for over 24 hours, get some rest before you kill someone!”

“I said I’ll take care of her,”, said the cigarette, “Now either help me or get out of my way.”

The first shadow still lingered, not ready to give up.

“Listen, there’s no one else available to help her. Look at those wounds, if we wait, she’ll die.”, the rough voice dropped an octave, pleading, “Please, help me save her.”

“Fuck. FUCK. Fine!”, the first guy finally gave in, “What do you need me to do?”

“Take off her clothes, get some local anesthesia…”

“Local?”

“We can’t put her under, if she goes to sleep…”

“I won’t wake up.”, Mikasa finished for the rough voice, weakly.

Her head was swimming at this point, the only thing that was keeping her anchored in reality was Jean’s grip on her hand, feeling so warm against the coldness that began to spread its fingers through her body. The second shadow leaned over her, the burning cigarette tip bright as a sun.

“Hey there marine.”, said the rough voice, accompanied in the background by snipping of the scissors, as the other guy was working on removing the ruined remnants of Mikasa’s uniform, “What’s your name?”

Even saying her own name was a task that felt impossible.

“M-Mik…Mikasa.”, she finally pushed out. So tired.

“That’s a beautiful name, soldier. Can I drop the formalities and call you Mikasa?”

She nodded, her bloodied lips turning slightly up. It was funny, being talked to so formally at her own deathbed, but she really liked the way the cigarette pronounced her name. He didn’t choke on the second syllable, as a lot of people do, even Jean had trouble getting it correctly at the start. Not this guy though, whoever he was, he aced it the first time around.

“All right,” he continued, “Now do you know what’s going to happen?”

She swallowed, the coldness spreading further from her wounds. They used to burn, just fifteen minutes past, but the agony was gone, replaced by cold numbness. It wasn’t hard to guess what was going on.

“I’ll die.”, she stated.

The burning tip swung left and right, as whoever was smoking it shook his head.

“No, you’re not going to die, I won’t let you.”

There was a sharp smell of disinfectant in the air. A snap of latex, as the cigarette guy pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, saying something to his assistant before turning back towards her.

“I’ll pull those fragments out of you, sew you up, and you’ll be better than ever. All right?”

“You can’t… there’s too many.”

The rough voice didn’t even waver as he replied.

“I can do anything I want.”

The cigarette disappeared, replaced by a surgical mask most likely. An instrument exchanged between the two shadows, and a gleaming point neared one of the deep cuts on Mikasa’s body, ready to dig in in search of the invading metal. But before it could make contact, she spoke up again, in a small voice, the fear and lightheadedness taking over.

“Is it going to hurt?”

The instrument stopped, and even when Mikasa couldn’t see his face very clearly, she knew that he was looking straight into her eyes when he replied.

“Like hell.”

Then, the former cigarette smoker pushed the thing in, and the agony returned, most of the world disappearing behind the veil of Mikasa’s pained scream.

Eyes shooting open, she sat up, heart beating wildly in her chest. The way it hammered against her ribs was soon joined by the well-known hammering of a hangover, making Mikasa groan and massage her temples. Well, she wasn’t falling asleep again, that was for sure. Standing up from the bed her foot nicked the bottle next to the bed, empty thank god, and it whirled away before hitting the wall and remaining there, glistening in the moonlight. She could hear music, coming down from below, a certain disadvantage of living above a bar, but hey, she didn’t have to rent. Worth it. Hoping that the headache will recede soon, Mikasa set out for her bathroom, carefully finding her way between the heaps of clothing, empty bottles and other trash that she had to finally get rid of. Reaching the sink, she splashed her face, taking a moment after to look into the mirror.

A visage stared back at her. Pale skinned, boyish short dark hair matted by both sweat and water, dark circles underneath her eyes. Goddamn it, she really did look like shit. The nightmare still lingering in the back of her mind, she inspected the old scar beneath her eye, frowning at it. Everyone said that she was incredibly lucky, if that particular shrapnel fragment flew just a tad bit higher, she would have lost the eye. Lucky huh. Taking a step back, Mikasa knew what she will see but it was still a bitter pill to swallow.

What was merely a nightmare now was a reality, just a few years back. The scars were there, spread across her body, reminders of all the places where the fragments cut into her. She should have died there, on the table, bled out or something, but whoever that cigarette guy was saved her life, pulled her back from the dead. He was no magician though, and making the scars disappear was impossible. They were forever etched into her, a web across her skin, spread everywhere. Mikasa was not scarred only on her abdomen, but over her chest too, and the metal even cut into her legs, grazing the thighs. She liked saying that she came to terms with her injury, but sometimes it still saddened her, the permanent reminder of the explosion, destroying what could have been…

With a sneer, Mikasa turned away from the mirror. What a crybaby she was. Why would It matter that her body was scarred? It was only cosmetic, none of the fragments hit any important muscles or organs, her body was still in peak condition, if not too pleasant to look at. There was no point if thinking about it, she reminded herself, for what felt like a hundred time. It didn’t matter. It didn’t.

Returning to the bed, Mikasa checked the bedtime clock, seeing that there was still plenty of time before her training session. But as sleeping was not an option, she decided to just say fuck it and go anyway, get in a few hours of her own training before Louise comes in. After all, she did have the keys to the gym. Grabbing her leather jacket from where it lay on the only chair in the room, Mikasa took her bike keys and made her way out of the door. Passing the bar, she saw Jean leaning over the wood and talking to some girl with a huge grin on his face, handling it perfectly as usual.

It was a risky idea that they had, pulling all of their money together and buying this place after leaving the army could bite them in the ass, and it was purely Jean’s doing that it didn’t. While Mikasa was only the initial investor, she didn’t do shit for the bar, while Jean was the owner, barman, waiter, accountant, and everything that the establishment required. He handled it all on his own and literally carried the place on his back without a word of complaint. Honestly, he was the best business partner Mikasa could ever ask for.

The gym was exactly as dark as one might expect at three in the morning, and the parking lot in front of it nicely empty. Stopping her bike at the best one, closest to the entrance, Mikasa once again realized that there were still no designated places for the staff. She really should talk to Levi about it.

“You were so amazing! You did like boom, left hook, right hook, and that kick!”

“Louise, please, can you focus on your set?”

“Oh, right sorry!”

Rubbing her forehead, Mikasa watched the younger girl struggle with the weight, doing her best to push it upwards. Being a personal trainer to Louise could be mentally taxing, but she paid so well that Mikasa was willing to put up with it. They came into contact in the weirdest possible way too. After coming back from the war, scarred in both mind and body by the experience, Mikasa had certain anger inside her, one that desperately needed to be let out. And punching the bag didn’t quite soothe her. Yet before she could do something she would come to regret later, Levi approached her with a proposition. There were underground fights taking place in the city, mafia organized, where anyone could enter and beat his opponent nearly to death. Levi took part in those too, back when he was younger and desperately needed the cash to keep both himself and Mikasa out of poverty, and now offered the same chance to his sister. In short, she took it.

Mikasa was doing martial arts basically ever since she learned how to walk, desperate to protect her remaining family after the tragic demise of her parents. Under her brother’s tutelage, she became quite the menace, a fact that came in handy during the fitness tests in the army. Now in these illegal fights, she could finally fully unleash herself. They kept coming at her, because who could ever lose to a girl, right? And she kept beating them, one after the other. It felt great, it allowed her to let out some steam, and it paid well. The dream scenario, really. Those fights were also where she met Louise, her adoring fan.

Louise was a spoiled rich girl desperate to keep herself entertained. She tried everything, every drug, every kind of alcohol, every guy or girl that would go to bed with her. But none of these filled the void inside her chest. That was until she caught wind of the underground fights and went to see them for herself. As luck would have, right the first fight Louise attended was Mikasa’s, and ever since the girl saw her knock the lights out of a hulking beast of a man about three heads taller than her, she fell in love. First thing in the morning, Louise tracked Mikasa to Levi’s gym where she trained and begged her for so long until the former soldier caved in and agreed to train her. That was their partnership. Louise attended all Mikasa’s matches, tirelessly cheered her on, and had personal training sessions with her, endlessly talking about the fights her idol won.

“Do you have any action today? Or tomorrow? Or this week?”, Louise was basically bouncing on her toes with excitement, her sweaty face giving away just how much she loved watching Mikasa fight.

“I don’t think so,”, the raven shrugged, “Gotta check my email after we’re done here and…”

“You have to let me know if there is anything. You will, right? Please?”

She sighed.

“Of course I will, don’t worry. If it wasn’t for you, who would hand me my towel after a match, right?”

How such a simple compliment could make Louise smile so brightly was a mystery to Mikasa, but she had no intention of bursting her trainee’s bubble of happiness.

The bar was basically empty when Mikasa came back from the gym, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. Most of their business happened in the late hours anyway. But how Jean managed to look so rested and ready while being up to the early hours of the morning, now that was not normal. He greeted her with a radiant smile, moving behind the bar with practiced movements. Jean made it look so easy.

“How was your fan meeting today?”

“Grand as always. How’s the bar holding up?”

“Well, I don’t mean to alarm you, but there’s someone special today. Your six .”

Carefully, Mikasa turned her head to the indicated direction, seeing a man sitting by himself. She couldn’t see much of him, just a long hair tied back into a ponytail and his broad back. Looking back at Jean, Mikasa raised an eyebrow.

“And he’s special because….?”

“Because I believe he’s just your type.”, the barman gave her a wink, “Why don’t you head over and talk to him, he looks so sad, sitting there all on his own…”

“Jean.”, Mikasa sighed, “Could you stop trying to hook me up with people?”

“Why should I? Mika, you’ve been alone for years, why don’t you live up a little?”

She frowned at him.

“I do live it up.”

“Getting drunk by yourself every night doesn’t count.”, Jean reached over the bar, putting a hand on her shoulder, “You’re my best friend, a great girl too, and it would make me so happy if I’d see you smile for once.”

“Jean…”, she drawled, but he didn’t let her finish.

“I know a girl who needs some fun when I see one and take this from a guy you used to date, you definitely do.”, he squeezed her shoulder, “Just go talk to him, okay? And if he’s an asshole, then well….”

Letting go of her, Jean flexed his impressive musculature.

“I’ll set him right.”

Mikasa couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“You think I can’t handle him on my own?”

“Please, I’ve seen you fight. I know that you can kick anyone’s ass.”, he said, “I’m just saying that should you need backup, I’ll be right there.”

She knew that Jean wouldn’t stop nagging at her until she gave in, so Mikasa decided to just skip the persuasion phase and do it. Pushing back from the bar, Mikasa smiled at him.

“Thanks, Jean, I appreciate it.”

Walking over to the guy, Mikasa felt a tingle of nervousness up her spine. How does one flirt again?

“Hey.”

Nailed it.

The man looked up, his startlingly green eyes boring into her.

“Hey yourself.”, his gaze traveled all over her, settling back on her face, “Can I help you?”

Riiiiiight.

“I… Uh… I mean….”

You know what, Jean was an asshole. Luckily, before she could embarrass herself further, he offered her an out.

“Can I buy you a drink?”, he asked.

Accepting the invitation, Mikasa sat down, finally taking a good look at him.

“Name’s Eren,”, he said, “If you care to know.”

That made her smile.

“I do. Mine’s Mikasa, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Mikasa.”

He had a nice way of pronouncing her name, the way it rolled off his tongue reminded her of someone, but for the love of God couldn’t remember who. With one shot inside her and one more on the way, Mikasa once again picked her brain for a line, something that would say that she’s interested in the guy. She was, to be honest, he had a nice face, pleasing if a bit raspy voice, and from what she could see he was rather well-built too. And the eyes, Mikasa really liked the eyes, the emeralds made her feel all giddy inside.

“So…”, she cleared her throat, “What’s a good-looking guy like yourself doing here all on your own?”

Eren’s face split into a huge grin.

“The delivery of that was amazing, you do that often?”

“Eeeh, not really…”

The bastard had the audacity to be smug.

“Oh? I couldn’t say.”, he said, the irony oozing from his words.

No matter how awkward she was, however, Eren didn’t seem to mind, and their conversation flowed. Somehow, they managed to completely avoid talking about themselves, and even when it was dark outside and the bar began to fill, the only thing they knew was each other’s names.

“I hate to be that guy,”, Eren said, looking over her shoulder, “But I have to ask, is the barman your boyfriend?”

“My boyfriend?”, following Eren’s gaze, Mikasa saw Jean cleaning the glasses with the most innocent expression he ever had. “No, not that. He’s my ex.”

“And you parted on good terms?”

“The best. Why?”

“Well, he keeps throwing glances our way, so I’m just wondering if I’m not hitting on someone’s girl.”

“Oh, so you’re hitting on me now?”

A small smile appeared on Eren’s face.

“What if I am?”

Instead of an answer, Mikasa returned his smile, downing her shot right after. The place was popular, and they were quite a few drinks deep at this point, so it was getting increasingly hard to understand what Eren was saying. It was annoying.

“How about we take this upstairs.”, Mikasa suggested, “I live right above the bar and…”

The realization of what she just suggested struck her, and she was left staring at Eren’s face, who looked back at her with an unchanging expression.

“Are you sure about that?”, he said, slowly, making sure that she understands.

She did, but no reason why to back down occurred to her. Jean was right, after all, she would like to have some fun.

“Yes.”, she held his gaze without flinching, “Yes I am.”

Seemingly on board, Eren nodded, finished his drink and stood up.

“We better get going then.”

It felt rather unreal, leading him up the stairs. The last glimpse of the bar showed her Jean, who was giving her a thumbs up, making her frown at him. The key jingled in the lock as Mikasa pushed the door open, silently cursing in her mind the fact that she still hasn’t cleaned up her apartment. Luckily, Eren didn’t seem much interested in the place, as his hands almost immediately found her hips and then he was kissing her, her lips hungry on hers. Judging from how quickly he coaxed her mouth open, Eren was an experienced kisser, and his tongue knew what to do. Mikasa moaned weakly, her legs feeling like jelly, drunk on both alcohol and him. Fuck, she really wanted this, needed this. But when Eren’s hand went to her shirt, trying to lift it up, the sirens went off in her head.

No, she couldn’t let him remove it, he would see the scars if he did. And there was no way he wouldn’t get disgusted by what she was hiding. With a shove, stronger than intended, Mikasa pushed him away, much to Eren’s surprise.

“What is…?”

She didn’t let him finish, turning around instead and bending over the foot of the bed, offering him her backside. Face down, ass up, that’s what men liked anyway.

“Do me like this.”, she ordered, looking over her shoulder, “Come on.”

It was a damn sexy ass, Eren had to say.

“Yeah…”, he nodded, quickly catching on “Okay…”

With their combined efforts, they undid Mikasa’s belt pushing down her pants and underwear just enough. After that, Eren was quick to find a condom in his wallet, pulling down his zipper and putting it on with practiced movement. He really was no beginner in this. Not that Mikasa cared, however, all she craved was to feel that nice, big cock inside her, so wiggling her hips, she all but purred at him.

“Are you gonna stare all evening or are you finally going to fuck me?”

Eren chuckled behind her, his hand moving over her exposed firm flesh.

“With an ass like this, only a fool wouldn’t take that invitation.”, the thrust took her by surprise, as Eren buried his whole impressive length inside her in one move, forcing her to cry out. His mouth at her ear, he growled.

“And I’m no fool.”

Quickly overwhelmed, Mikasa couldn’t do much, only moan and fist the bedding as Eren fucked her, hard and deep, her eyes rolling back. It was too much, too much, and her world was coming apart at the seams. Demonstrating a surprising amount of self-control, Eren always slowed down when he was close, mindful of her pleasure, a trait not that common during a one-night stand. It gave her ample time to build herself up, writing around on the bed while he kept thrusting at a steady pace, fully in control.

“You’re so fucking tight, it feels so good,”, he whispered into her ear, his voice deep and primal, “I love the way your pussy massages my cock, baby.”

His tempo sped up again, the sound of skin slapping skin mixing with the increasingly loud moans he forced from her. Muscles winding tighter and tighter, Mikasa was on the brink, just waiting to be pushed over.

“That’s right..”, he growled, pinning her down to the bed, “Cum for me! I want you to squirt all over my cock.”

As if her body followed his orders, Mikasa came, muffling her scream into the bedding. And still he wouldn’t stop, fucking her through her orgasm, milking all the pleasure from her quivering, dripping pussy. She was completely done, feeling fucked beyond imagining when Eren couldn’t hold back anymore, coming inside the rubber with another groan. Quick to pull out, Mikasa whimpered a bit at the sudden feeling of emptiness. She was slumped on the bed now, nothing holding her up, warm and completely satisfied, much more content than she felt in a long, long time.

Eren was moving around, discarding the condom and zipping up his pants, suddenly restless. If Mikasa didn’t have her face squished in the bed, she would see that his face was filled with something close to regret, a clarity that wasn’t there before.

“I… I think I should go..”, he said, eyeing her fallen form.

Mikasa shrugged, not really caring anymore. Tired, exhausted by his intensity, by how well he fucked her, she was sure that this night’s sleep would be peaceful, the nightmares wouldn’t come. Mikasa got what she wanted, and the desired fun was much, much better than she ever expected, positively blowing her mind. She used him, more or less, used this random guy for her pleasure, and now that he’s done his thing the fact that he was leaving on his own was amazing. Didn’t even have to throw him out.

“Just close the door behind you.”, Mikasa yawned, turning around on the bed and pulling the covers over her body. She could remove her clothes later, once she will be alone and there would be no chance of Eren seeing her scars. No need to scare the guy, he served her well.

“Right… I…”, a sigh, followed by silence. Whatever he wanted to say, Eren ultimately decided against it, and hearing the click of the door, Mikasa knew that she’s alone.

Again.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 48: To The Secret Lab!

Becoming The Mask

Stephan's footsteps echoed more loudly than usual in the base's deserted hallways. He was tempted to change his gait, to step lightly so he'd make less noise, but on the other hand it wasn't smart to sneak up on a Changeling you weren't planning to fight. Anyway, the bag of canned goods he was carrying would clank no matter how he carried it.

"Bernie? It's Stephan," he called when he neared the laboratory. The doors were standing open.

"Excellent timing, I need some fresh eyes."

Stephan gulped. He was pretty sure Bernie meant 'a new person to look over things, because fresh perspective can catch something an older, more tired perspective missed', but it was also possible the Alchemist actually needed eyeballs for something.

"There's goggles by the door," Bernie continued.

Stephan put on a set, and after a moment's thought grabbed a hairnet as well.

His hair wasn't long enough to tie back easily but it was long enough to potentially get caught on something. It felt a bit silly to put goggles over his mask, but the lab safety rules were clearly displayed by the goggle rack – goggles and close-toed shoes were mandatory for entrance. There were some modified goggles and plastic booties for use while troll-shaped.

He left the grocery bag on an empty shoe-rack. It would be out of the way there.

"I wasn't sure what your food situation was, so I brought some stuff. Canned tuna, mostly." Cans were shelf-stable and could be eaten in troll or human shape.

"Thanks, Stephan. I'm well supplied, but it was thoughtful of you." Bernie was currently human-shaped, surrounded by neatly sorted rubble and writing something on a clipboard. "Xe/xir at the moment, by the way."

"Is that with an X or with a Z?" asked Stephan, not sure if there was a significant difference, but ready to believe there could be since Bernie was bothering to bring this up.

"An X. You know, you're one of maybe five people who've ever asked me that."

"Okay. Cool. Uh, he/him for me, still."

"Got it." Bernie made a decisive last pen stroke, clicked the pen, and turned to xir guest-slash-assistant. "I've been sorting pieces, checking to see if anything's recognizable. As you can see," gesturing towards on grouping of stones, "the hooves, legs, and loincloth can mostly be identified, as can the claws," indicating another, pointier collection. "But I can't seem to find Bular's horns or face. I keep recounting the skulls from his belt and checking our video footage of him to make sure I didn't mix him up with one of them somehow."

A set of skulls, on the table in front of Bernie beside the probably-legs, were either surprisingly intact or mostly reassembled.

Stephan was suddenly, vividly reminded of his early days on the surface, sorting jigsaw puzzles with his Familiar's family. His youngest sister in particular had had a knack for seeing which edges ought to match up.

"Do I need gloves?"

"Wouldn't hurt. I haven't been using them. They don't switch over properly." Bernie crackled blue, and the tall, hefty human became a tall, hefty troll – still small compared to a Gumm-Gumm, but probably quite respectably sized for whichever group xe'd been taken from – and held up xir hands to demonstrate.

Stephan could see why Bernie might have trouble with gloves. Xir hands were bigger now, for one, which would stretch out the latex if xe carried the gloves over through the transformation rather than having different gloves on as a troll, and then xe would have to change xir gloves once they changed to human – plus, Bernie had four-digit rather than five-digit hands as a troll, so the extra glove finger would either flap loose or need to be taped down, which would also increase the odds of the gloves being damaged after shapeshifting back and forth.

It was a lot of trouble to go through when you weren't working with something caustic or reactive to the oils in human skin.

"Why are you wearing … that, though?" Stephan asked, gesturing up and down.

Bernie's lab coat had carried over between forms. It was loose on xir as a human, and now fit better. The lime green coat, with neon pink and yellow flowers printed around the hem and on the cloth-covered buttons, had looked odd on a human and even stranger on a purplish-blue troll.

"Oh, I keep a bunch of colourful ones in stock, in case I'm ever running tests on someone who's had a bad experience in a lab and doesn't like the white coats. Attempted vivisection, usually. Gets people all mixed up, conflating Mad Scientists and Evil Scientists."

Bernie shook xir head.

"Vivisection is the stupidest starting point for a xenobiological study. Surgery is complicated. Aside from risk of infection and the complications of dosing anesthesia for an unknown organism – since they'll definitely die of traumatic shock if you don't anesthetize – looking at organs only makes sense if you already know what you're supposed to be seeing."

Xe paced around the lab, gesturing with the clipboard.

"At best, you'll set yourself up for confirmation bias about any superficial parallels between the new and the known, and at worst you'll have no idea what you're looking at and kill off your test subject. I mean, I understand if it's just a thinly-veiled excuse to commit torture for the sake of torture, but as a scientist that offends me for other reasons."

"… So, why are you wearing it now?" Stephan looked around, suddenly wary. "Do you have a live test subject down here?" How restrained are they? How vengeful are they?

Bernie seemed startled at the reminder xe was having a conversation rather than talking to xirself.

"Oh – no, I just got bored of how monochromatic the base is. Plus changing how I'm dressed helps keep the days from blurring together."

"Ah."

Stephan made a mental note to visit more often.

He started looking through the shattered remains. He didn't shapeshift. Stephan had a lot of protruding teeth in troll form, not just tusks, and it could be a challenge not to drool on things. His mask would catch some of it if he kept it on, but then he's be stuck in a slimy mask when he changed back.

He picked up each stone, one by one, and turned it this way and that. Sometimes he found an identifiable feature – an elbow spur, a shoulder ridge – and pointed it out to Bernie. That got part of one arm put back together, or maybe a smaller percentage of both arms. If Stephan didn't find anything distinct, he would carefully put the stone back exactly where Bernie'd had it before, and move on to the next one.

"It's weird that his swords aren't here," said Stephan after a while.

"He could've been disarmed in the fight."

"Yeah, but then Stricklander would've brought the swords back along with the body. And if they'd turned to stone with him, there should be – some sheets, or plates, or something. Flat rocks matching up to the blades. Those things were huge."

Unless …

"Unless the Trollhunter took them, after killing him," Stephan said slowly. "You know, battle trophies." His eyes were drawn to the row of skulls Bular had worn to show off his own battle prowess. "Hunting trophies … What if the reason we can't find his head, is because the Trollhunter has it?"

"Well, that would probably narrow down the cause of death to decapitation," said Bernie, in a detached, academic sort of tone. "Although that can also be done post-mortem, it would be more difficult to remove an intact head, since the stone is more brittle once it dies."

"Which could explain the state of the rest of the body." Stephan shuddered. Gunmar was going to be so angry …

+=+

After two searches through Bular's remains, Stephan could barely tell the stones apart anymore. It looked like there should be more than enough to rebuild Bular, but jigsaws always looked bigger than they were when the pieces were all spread out, and Stephan and Bernie still couldn't find Bular's head.

Stephan was leaning on his 'hunting trophy' theory. There had to be a reason their greatest enemy was called the Trollhunter, right?

Something beeped. Stephan, more tightly wound than he'd realized, jumped and turned trollish in a flash of silver.

He was dark grey, as a troll, with a crown of stubby lighter grey horns instead of hair. His mask got pushed away from his face by his overlong teeth. His goggles clattered to the floor. His ears went back at the additional noise.

"It's okay, Stephan," said Bernie, gently, as though to a spooked animal. "That just means it's break time. Come on." Bernie reached out as though to pat Stephan on the arm, though they were on opposite sides of the room. "I'm going to meditate. I'd rather not leave you alone in the lab, no offence."

Stephan blinked a few times and tried breathing slow and deep, to settle his heart rate.

"Okay. Yeah. Let's go."

Both of them changed to human form as they left the laboratory. Bernie sealed the blast doors and herded Stephan to the next floor up, to a small square room with a gramophone in the center and low white benches around the walls.

Stephan picked the bench opposite Bernie's, both Changelings with their sides to the door.

The record was moving slowly, though the needle wasn't touching it and neither Changeling had wound the crank on the side.

Bernie seemed entirely at ease, waiting, listening for the Pale Lady's voice.

Stephan tried to let go of the resentment that kept bubbling up inside him.

For all Bernie had seemed to be lonely and pining for conversation when Stephan first arrived, xe certainly didn't seem to need Stephan around anymore. Stephan had hardly proven his mettle with how he'd overreacted to a harmless alarm. Helping with the 'rebuild Bular' project was the one thing Stephan could do for the Order right now, and he had barely contributed.

He didn't know how to help.

He just wanted to help.

Please … he begged Morgana in his mind. My Queen. Your Ladyship. Mother. Tell me what you need of me. Let me know how I can help you.

A side compartment of the gramophone table opened. A drawer slid out.

Both Changelings got up and leaned in to look without touching anything.

The drawer held an orange crystal, faintly glowing. The room hadn't changed temperature or décor, but somehow felt more comfortable. Bernie got out a pen and touched the crystal with the button end. Nothing happened.

"Is this …" for us? Stephan couldn't quite say out loud. "Are we supposed to take it? Do something with it?"

"I think it's Heartstone." Bernie touched it with a pinkie finger this time. Again, nothing appeared to happen.

Stephan backed off and sat back down. Heartstone? Really? Here? How? That stuff was legendary. He'd only half-believed it was real.

Bernie turned trollish and touched the stone with xir last finger, to no visible effect, and then picked it up. The drawer closed itself and the compartment shut over it.

Bernie held the crystal out to Stephan and urged, "Touch it."

Stephan got up and followed Bernie's lead, transforming and tapping the crystal cautiously with one finger. He staggered back and sat again.

"Whoa."

If Heartstone was a thing, that was definitely what this thing was. Stephan had been overloaded with a sense of safety and contentment. It was actually kind of scary to think about once he wasn't touching it anymore – he would have let his guard down entirely to bask in whatever the stone was radiating.

Maybe it was actually some kind of trap?

Except a trap – if it was a lotus-eater type trap – the trap would logically drain his energy, and Stephan felt invigorated. He wanted to do something. He felt like he could do anything.

"It's supposed to enhance a troll's life force, somehow," said Bernie, waving vaguely with xir free hand. "Possibly like how reptiles need warmth to regulate their metabolism, or how humans need sunlight to produce Vitamin D. Or it could just be a stimulant."

"I heard Lord Gunmar was born from the first one," said Stephan. "Maybe that was a metaphor and trolls need … Heartstone radiation … to be fertile? That would explain why we aren't."

'We' meaning 'Changelings'. Although, if Stephan was right, maybe that meant Changelings could … become fertile? Probably not from a brief touch of a small stone, but, in the future, with regular contact?

Bernie was still holding it.

"If it feeds trolls, maybe it eats them as well," xe speculated. "Feeding troll remains into it could make it grow. Like how plants do best if there's decaying animal matter in the soil."

Stephan nodded. He'd skimmed an article in a gardening magazine a while back about using blood meal to grow better roses.

"There's some connection, I don't know what exactly, but I know it's there." Bernie turned the stone over with a thoughtful expression. "I wish I had more to experiment with. Ideally five. A control group with nothing, of course, one fed with analogous minerals that weren't sourced from a troll, one fed with Changeling dust –"

"You have –? What am I saying, of course you do."

"– one with Grave Sand, and one with Bular's remains."

Wait, what?

"I don't know if Otto would like that."

"That experiment would have to wait until after the autopsy," said Bernie, reminded once more that xe wasn't just talking to xirself.

"… Do you think it could bring him back to life?"

"Unlikely but possible."

Stephan had never encountered the undead, to his knowledge, but he made a point of bringing garlic-rich food into work at the crematorium, and keeping a box of salt in his desk. (He'd read somewhere that, if a zombie tasted salt, they would remember they were dead, go back into their grave, and resist further attempts to summon them.) He probably wouldn't have much to worry about in his troll form, but his coworkers did not share this advantage.

"You know," said Bernie, "if this is emitting anything, I could probably adjust a Geiger counter to pick up on it. Let's get it back to the lab."

+=+

Bernie's first step was to scan the Heartstone with every instrument the Janus Order had and record its exact dimensions. Stephan was more of a witness than an assistant for that part.

He felt much more useful during the Geiger counter modifications. Bernie needed an extra pair of hands for some steps, and neither of them were a troll type with more than two arms. Stephan did have a prehensile tail, but it had broken a few times back in the Darklands and he couldn't flex it very well anymore to deal with things in front of him.

The alterations to the machine were more magic than tech. Bernie opened up a few sections and moved things around, extracting wires and inserting crystals and writing tiny cramped symbols here and there. Stephan held things out of the way that weren't being fully removed, and balanced pieces while Bernie attached them, and moved the Heartstone around the room for Bernie to recalibrate various settings.

Bernie put in something like a compass below the dial, so the holder couldn't only see how strong and close the Heartstone's readings were, but also which direction it was in. The compass was a sphere of rutilated quartz, with the gold-coloured acicular inclusions all going the same way. The sphere's mounting let it indicate directions in three dimensions.

It took four tries and six hours to cobble together a working model. Short-range only. Despite the Heartstone's properties, which did not seem to fade after prolonged contact, Stephan was barely keeping his eyes open.

n a surprising show of trust, Bernie let him nap in the apartment connected to the lab while Bernie typed up a report on today's findings.

Well, maybe it wasn't so surprising. Stephan, asleep, would be in a far more vulnerable position than Bernie would be from allowing another Changeling unsupervised in xir private space. If Stephan tried to leave some sort of trap, or go snooping while tired and set off a trap Bernie had left, well …

Bernie was also the Changeling primarily in charge of making any poisons the local Janus Order branch couldn't get through human channels. Stephan taking advantage of Bernie's trust would end far worse for him then it would for xir.

In any case, Stephan accepted the risk and took the nap, not wanting to drive home while tired. Bernie woke him half an hour later, and they went together to return the Heartstone piece to the gramophone room and to drop off a report in Otto's office.

Stephan carried the Geiger counter so Bernie could get a better idea of its range. It lost track of the Heartstone piece once they were most of the way down the hall. Bernie's hands were occupied with paperwork and a set of lockpicks. It was funny to see lockpicks carried so openly.

"Do you often break into the offices?" asked Stephan.

"I'm nearly certain I've been in every room of this base at least once."

"Recently?"

"I have been living down here. It's in my interests to double-check the security systems."

Stephan kept his eyes from rolling too obviously, but felt his mouth twitch in a small, brief grin.

When Otto's door opened, the Geiger counter – Bernie said xe was going to rename it, xe just hadn't yet – began beeping up a storm. The Changelings looked at each other and followed the compass needle to a bookcase, then a specific shelf, and finally behind a book.

"Well," said Bernie, "now I can double-check all my readings. I'll have to revise my report."

"How many more Heartstones are hidden around the base?" Stephan wondered.

"We should do a sweep. It'll probably take a couple of days. When do you have to leave and when can you next be here?"

"I have this week off. I can stay until," Stephan checked the date on his phone, "nine tomorrow evening before I'm expected anywhere." He and some work friends were planning to go to a bar for trivia night.

"Alright. We'll head back to the lab and you can take another nap while I do the scans and report revisions, and once you're awake we can sort out the order of the sweep."

"I should be good to go for –"

"You can't collect accurate data while sleep deprived."

"When's the last time you slept?"

"I woke up about ten minutes before you got here."

That explained why the laboratory had smelled of coffee.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Shattered King backstory, as commemorated by the Quagawumps)

Table Of Contents

Next Chapter (Jim gets Gunmar's Eye)

[fadefromthelight]

No. 30 - Ignoring an Injury

Summary:  All the ignoring Lucien’s been doing the past few days has finally caught up to him.

Read on: Ao3

Doctor Holden prides himself with his adaptability, he has to possess this skill if he wants to continue working in the ICU of the best hospital in the capital. But even he’s having trouble adjusting to working with Morgan and Lucien. Most wounds any of the members of the Oligarchy are treated by themselves in their building. The supplies they have on hand is usually enough to handle any wound or illness they come across.

But the distorted burn, he later learns it’s called decay, spread across Morgan’s arm was enough to unsteady him. Then the sight of Lucien’s magic containing it nearly knocked him off his feet. Whatever had happened between the two, who were barely on speaking terms, is something that Holden couldn’t figure out.

The staff in the ER weren’t anymore forthcoming. Lucien had dropped off Morgan, cryptically answered the least amount of questions necessary and left. The assumption was that Lucien was going to fix this but Morgan’s ER doctor was just as stumped at Holden is.

The decay works like an accelerated infection, slowly creeping further into Morgan’s body. The magic Lucien encased it with was effective in lessening the spread but it wasn’t a cure. Morgan’s condition continued to worsen, the distinctive symptoms of lynatheo starting to present. Splotchy bruises bloom across Morgan’s skin, bright against his pallor. Holden feared that the conversation he’d be having was one about end of life treatment.

As cruel as it sounds, Holden had hoped that Morgan’s passing would be quick. Even in sleep, Morgan’s face twists with pain no matter the strength of the painkillers they give. The pain of fighting against one’s magic isn’t something that can be quelled by normal means. If an appropriate time came, Holden considered using suppressants to ease Morgan’s struggle.

Seeing a patient suffer when there’s nothing for him to do is excruciating. It’s the worst aspect of his career.

But Lucien comes back with a miracle, his skin humming with a manic and uncontrollable magic. For a moment, Holden thought Lucien was grasping at straws but he couldn’t deny what he saw.

Despite how much pain it put Morgan through, it reversed the decay. Not completely, not yet, but enough to stop the infection. Holden let his guard down, believing that the worst was to pass.

But it never works like that with him.

The moment Lucien stands from the bed, his legs buckle beneath him. Morgan catches him, unable to hide the wince as Lucien leans against Morgan’s arm. Holden’s at his side a moment later, pulling one of Lucien’s arms around his shoulders and holding him up by his waist. Holden brings him to the chair, laying him on top of it. Lucien’s lighter than he should be. He can feel the weight of Morgan’s concern on his back.

Holden kneels beside Lucien, pressing two fingers to his wrist. He can’t tear his gaze from the dirty bandages peeking out from beneath the sleeve of Lucien’s lab coat. Lucien’s heartbeat is fast, almost concerningly so. How long has Lucien been running around like this?

Holden’s surprised he was able to walk through the front doors of the hospital himself.

Holden pushes Lucien’s sleeve further back. Brown spots of dried blood and the uneven edge of a deep red blood stain greet him. A hand on his wrist stops him before he can assess it further. Holden looks up to see Lucien staring at him, his eyes narrowed to thin slits.

“Lord Lucien.” Holden says, not releasing his hand despite Lucien’s implications. “I need to ensure you’re alright.”

Lucien tightens his grip but Holden can’t ignore how it’s weaker than it should. Fractured magic dances across it. “I’m fine. I just stood too quickly.”

“Just let me look you over. It’ll settle my concern.” Holden removes Lucien’s hand from his wrist and rolls Lucien’s sleeve further up.

Lucien frowns but doesn’t replace his hand. “I’m fine. It’s nothing I can’t treat myself.”

Holden hovers a hand over the bandages, taking in the dried spots scattered around the bright red gash in the center. Lucien obviously cut himself recently but Holden can’t fathom why. If the rest of the wounds are from blood drawing, Lucien should have more than enough for the experimenting he’s been doing.

Holden lightly presses against the wound, the blood stickly beneath his fingers. “How did you get this?”

Lucien can’t hide the wince that flicker across his face. “I needed to—”

Lucien tears his hand from Holden’s grasp, cutting himself off with a sputtering wheeze. It evolves into a full blown coughing fit. Holden supports Lucien’s shoulders, keeping him from doubling over. It may give the illusion of quelling the cough, but sitting hunched over can worsen it.

It eventually subsides and Lucien’s breathing is regulated to wheezing gasps. If this continues, Holden might need to clear out a bed for Lucien. When Lucien brings his hand away from his mouth, it’s stained with gleaming blood. Lucien frowns at it with muted confusion. “I can’t lose anymore of that.”

If that wasn’t concerning, Holden didn’t know what was. “C’mon, let’s go to another room. We can figure out how to fix this.” Holden can’t continue this in front of Morgan. It’ll do nothing to assist in his recovery, no matter how much Morgan believes he should be here helping.

Lucien looks up at him and for a moment Holden thought Lucien was going to protest. But he just nods and stands from the chair. Holden has to steady him, practically carrying him. Holden glances to Morgan and gives him a small nod. He’s unsure if Morgan understood what he’s trying to convey but he doesn’t protest.

The moment Holden steps into the hall, he flags down the first two nurses he sees. “Taylor, get another room set up. Alison, check up on Morgan. Lucien reversed the decay but he’s not out of the woods yet.”

Both of them nod, rushing off in opposite directions. Holden takes off in the same direction as Taylor, following him to the new room. Lucien is partially limp in his arms, struggling to put one step in front of the other.

The moment they pass through the threshold of the room, Lucien pushes away from Holden. He stumbles and collides into the cabinets, the sound of flesh against the wood echoing through the room. Holden tries to catch him as he drops to the floor, barely able to stop him from slamming his head into the rim of a waste bin.

Lucien heaves into it, coughing up thick splotches of blood. Holden holds him up, ensuring that he doesn’t tip over when he’s done. Holden looks up to Taylor, who stands a few feet away with an expression of thinly veiled fear. “Set up the EAM and ATS. We need to determine if this is lynatheo or lisatheo.”

It’s most likely lisatheo, given that Lucien injected himself with an apparently highly volatile activant, but the blood loss lends itself to lynatheo. It’s certainly possible that Lucien was suffering from lynatheo prior to the activant and induced a case of lisatheo.

Treating that may prove to be difficult. The abrupt switch between deficiency and overabundance could overwhelm Lucien’s autem. Their functioning could be anywhere between both extremes. Ideally it would have settled at a normal level, but it’s clear that isn’t what’s happening.

If the preliminary observations Holden makes are correct, it appears that Lucien’s body still believes he’s suffering from lynatheo. Dark bruises dots Lucien’s exposed skin, the telltale marker of lynatheo. But Holden can be certain that those are current or from Lucien’s previous case of lynatheo.

Lucien leans back from the waste bin, pressing against Holden’s side. His breath rattles in his chest and blood stains his teeth. Holden carries Lucien to the bed, gently propping him up against the raised back. Taylor returns a few minutes later, wheeling in a cart with two machines.

While Taylor starts setting up the machines, Holden helps Lucien remove his coat. “We need to remove this for now.” Holden says, carefully pulling the lab coat off Lucien’s shoulders. He complies with little protest. “You can keep your shirt but you’ll have to remove that too eventually.”

Lucien nods a few seconds later, disconnected from Holden’s own words. He watches Taylor set up the machines around him and attach electrodes to different surfaces of his skin. Taylor hikes up Lucien's shirt to attach the ATS electors against his ribs and Holden can see the stark purple bruises that bloom across his back.

Taylor attaches the electrodes on Lucien’s wrist, hand hovering over the bandages. Holden gently moves him out of the way to inspect the bandages. He looks up to Taylor briefly. “Tell me the reading when they come out.”

Taylor nods and busies himself with the machinery. Holden unwinds the bandages, taking care not to tear them from the skin where it sticks. Lucien winces when Holden nears the cut but otherwise doesn’t comment.

Holden drops the bandages on the nearby counter, grabbing a square of gauze from the cabinet. The cut on Lucien’s arm is already seeping blood, slow but steady enough to be concerning. The edges are smooth, obviously made with a sharp knife. It’s most likely deeper than what Lucien intended.

Beside the cut are small circular wounds, the faint imprints of bruises bordering them. Presumably they’re from when Lucien withdrew his blood, but Holden’s not certain. “How did you get these?” Holden asks, pressing the gauze to the cut. He’ll need to stitch it. It’s unlikely it’ll stop bleeding on it’s own.

Lucien drags his gaze from the machinery to Holden, peering down at his arm. “Mostly from drawing blood. One of them is from the activant.”

Holden nods to show that he’s listening, pressing harder on the gauze. Lucien flinches but says nothing. Holden glances to the door, gesturing to one of the nurses hovering by. “I need the suture kit with the anesthesia.”

The nurse darts off. Holden returns to Lucien’s wound and replaces the gauze. It’s already soaked. “Don’t put epinephrine in.” Lucien says, an edge present in his voice despite its weakness.

“I won’t if you don’t want to.” Holden says. He doesn’t look away when the nurse returns with the kit. She places it on the counter and leaves. Holden steps away and opens the kit. He grabs the syringe, lidocaine and sodium bicarbonate. “You never did tell me how you got the cut on your arm.”

Holden can hear Lucien shift against the bed, the fabric of his clothes rustling against the sheets. “I needed a sample of my blood to test the activant on. So I wouldn’t kill myself if it was too strong.”

Holden extracts a small amount of the sodium bicarbonate and then a larger amount of lidocaine. He returns to Lucien’s side and removes the gauze. “Any reason you couldn’t draw it the normal way?”

Lucien frowns, watching Holden poise the syringe above the cut. Holden was to advise him not to watch, but he doubts that Lucien would be phazed considering he’s been withdrawing his own blood frequently.

Or that he would listen.

“I didn’t have the time.” Lucien says as if that’s the most obvious explanation.

Holden presses the syringe into Lucien’s skin and pushes down on the stopper. He pulls it out and replaces the gauze. “I’m sure you could’ve thought of something.”

Lucien shakes his head but doesn’t respond. He grits his teeth together, the muscles in his throat taunt. Holden grabs the needle, forceps and thread. He threads the needle, holds it tight in the mouth of the forceps and removes the gauze. He sets to work, rhythmically inserting the needle into Lucien’s flesh. Lucien watches with detached curiosity.

About halfway through the wound, Taylor breaks the silence that has fallen between them. “EAS reading of 48.50 over 20.21 and ATS reading of 873 mels.”

The aterial EAS and ATS values are abnormally high but the venular EAS value is relatively low. As predicted, Lucien’s displaying signs of both lynatheo and lisatheo. But they need to stabilize the ATS value before they attempt to treat the underlying lynatheo.

The activant triggered Lucien’s autem to make more magic after they were already on high alert. The lack of raw magic from overuse was overridden by the activant. Holden will need to be careful when treating this.

“Retrieve both treatments but prepare the one for lisatheo first.” Holden says, continuing the stitching. Lucien has grown alarmingly silent. Holden assumed that he would have something to say about his numbers. It isn’t a well kept secret that Lucien’s a scientist himself.

Holden glances up and finds Lucien sitting back with his eyes screwed shut. Holden completes the stitching, trying it up and cutting the thread, before turning back to Lucien. Holden speaks as he wraps the wound. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Lucien grits out. He sighs and attempts to relax his features. “Just tired.”

“You can rest.” Holden steps away from Lucien, cleaning up his equipment and putting them off to the side to be disposed of later. “Now that we have a diagnosis, we can treat it.”

Lucien nods slowly, as if considering that option takes too much effort. But he curls in on himself and drifts off to sleep.

A few moments later, Taylor returns with the treatments. Now Holden can get to work.

——

The past day was the longest and more painful one of Morgan’s entire life. He’s not allowed to leave the room until he’s discharged. It was due to the valid concern about decay contamination but it doesn't change how desperately Morgan wants to see Lucien. He’s barely heard a word about him after he collapsed in Morgan’s room.

Holden is tight lipped and Alison will ignore him when the topic is brought up. Other than a guarded mention that he’s still living to quell any ideas of escape, Morgan’s heard nothing about Lucien. It’s starting to concern Morgan.

But the moment he’s discharged, his arm still wrapped tight with bandages, he storms back into the ICU. Lenna disapproves of his actions, feeling that he needs to continue resting and recovering.

He disagrees with her. He can rest well enough from Lucien’s room.

The nurses give him a wide berth as he walks through the ICU. Holden’s nowhere to be found, either not on shift or busy with another patient.

The door to Lucien’s room is shut and the blinds are drawn over the windows. They must have orders to give Lucien privacy due to his title. Morgan’s certain he was given the same treatment.

He pushes the door open, greeted to an inky darkness punctuated only by the light of monitors. He flicks on the lights and shuts the door behind him.

Lucien lays in a hospital bed, dressed in the pale blue hospital gown that serves only to wash out his skin further. White bandages wind around one arm and an IV is tucked into the back of his hand on the other. Blood and a clear medication feed into the tubing. Dark shadows stain the skin beneath his eyes and deep purple bruises creep out from under the collar of Lucien’s gown.

Morgan drags a chair up to Lucien’s bed and holds one of his hands in a gentle grasp. He doesn’t know how much time passes like this, but Lucien eventually stirs. He opens his eyes to slits, wincing against the light. He turns his head, confusion written clearly on his expression. “Morgan? What are you doing here?” There’s the remnants of an accent Morgan can’t place in his voice.

“Waiting for you to wake up. They wouldn’t let me see you until I was discharged.” Morgan tightens his grip on Lucien’s hand as if he’d pull away if Morgan didn’t. Morgan doesn’t know if he could handle that.

Lucien looks to his hand but doesn’t make any move to remove it. Instead, he returns the grasp. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not the one in a hospital bed, am I?” Morgan tries to smile, but it falls flat. “But I am feeling better.”

“That’s good.” Lucien leans back, his whole posture relaxing. “I was worried it wasn’t effective.”

Morgan licks his lips, unable to find the way to address the most prominent question on his mind. “Lucien.” Morgan starts, finding the words to continue that don’t burn in his mouth. “What did you do?”

The question encompasses more than what Lucien did to treat Morgan.

Lucien looks away, his grip loosening. “I created a refined form of an activant. It pushed your magic to the point of being able to over take the decay.”

“And how does this involve you passing out from blood loss with a wound on your arm?” Concern dulls the sharp, pointed edge in Morgan’s voice, an edge that he wishes he could remove.

Lucien swallows and his hand trembles. Morgan grips it tighter. “I needed someone to test it on before I used it with you. Using my blood and body happened to be the most convenient.”

“That it’s illogical and we both know that. What were you doing, trying to kill yourself like that?” Morgan asks the question with the appropriate amount of concern but layered with a tone that besets the extremes of his statement. But at Lucien’s silence, Morgan’s ease melts into shock. “You were trying to die.”

“I wasn’t trying per se.” Lucien tries to tear his hand out of Morgan’s grasp but Morgan won’t let him. He needs to feel the cold touch of Lucien’s hand beneath his skin. “But if that was the outcome, I wouldn’t have argued it.”

“You can’t throw your life away!” Morgan forces his voice to lower, unsure exactly how thin these walls are. “Not like that! Not for me!”

“Everyone has the life that they're supposed to live and I can’t help but feel like I’m living on borrowed time.” Lucien has this haunted look in his eyes, dulling the normally vibrant green of his iris. “I wasn’t supposed to discover decay unscathed.”

“Don’t say that. It doesn’t matter how it should’ve been, it only matters how it is now. We’re both here, alive.” Fractured shards of desperation leak into Morgan’s voice, tearing into soft flesh of his throat. “And I’m not the only one grateful for that. You have your son.”

“How do you know about that?” Lucien’s voice is a brush above a whisper, pulled taunt by emotions that Morgan can’t make out. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

“I couldn’t have spent my whole life with you and not recognize your magic signature.” Morgan tries to smile again, this time feeling more real. “Don’t worry, no one else knows.”

“Thank you.” Lucien sighs, his hand limp in Morgan’s grasp.

“Just promise me that you’ll at least try to live for him?” Morgan picks up Lucien’s hand and holds it against his chest. He knows what this looks like, what this could be implying to Lucien. He can’t ignore the part of him that still wants that. “If you won’t for me.”

Lucien frowns but doesn't look away. He sighs, as if the thought weighs on him. “Alright, I promise.”

[whimperwoods]

The Drowner 11 - Druid

The Drowner series is based on the first Witcher game, but really just requires that you know Geralt is a chemically-enhanced monster hunter nicknamed the White Wolf (Gwynbleidd in the elder speech) and the Drowner is a humanoid water monster. There’s an index! Also, have a link to Part 10!

Part 11: Healing is fine, but strangers are scary. Some chapters just need to be fluff, y’all. She deserves it.

[I think next chapter she’ll finally get her name, so... fingers crossed for that? I have to get irl work done to be allowed to write it. If it’s not next chapter, it’ll be the one after that.]

tag list: @inky-whump (Thanks for encouraging me to write the next bit!)

tw: referenced drug use (fantasy illegal/recreational drug used as anesthesia)

*****

The drowner slept in Geralt’s arms, half slumped, half propped at a slightly awkward angle so that he could feel her breath gusting softly against the hollow of his throat in a slow, even rhythm. She fought him every time he tried to give her more fisstech and knock her out again, but she was also still slightly feverish, and if he let her stay awake, she made almost constant small noises of pain, in spite of her best efforts to hide them.

It was almost dawn, and he’d made good time, the two of them quiet enough to avoid most of the trouble lurking in the night, and what he couldn’t avoid easy enough to dispatch with a little magic before it could reach them.

They were farther from the druids than he’d thought they were - or, if he were honest with himself, than he’d hoped they were. The drowner’s breathing was easy and she’d stopped shivering, her fever still apparent but no longer blistering when he pulled his glove off to feel her forehead. He’d made the right choice, as hard as that was to embrace when every time she saw her stump of a leg, she was surprised all over again and had to be prevented from trying to touch it.

She was still out when he finally stepped into the druids’ clearing a little over an hour after sunrise, drooling softly under her blanket.

He walked through the clearing, ignoring the tamed wyverns, the handful of dryads, and anyone who didn’t look like the group’s elder, and being watched only casually in return.

The drowner twitched slightly in her sleep, and he knew the fisstech had worn off. There was no way to know how long she’d stay out without it.

The elder stepped from the shade of the large tree in the middle of the clearing to meet him. “Gwynbleidd,” he said, and Geralt nodded deeply to acknowledge him, even though they’d never met in the time he could remember. Maybe they’d met before he’d lost his memory. Maybe word had just gotten around about him. Either way, it seemed like a good sign.

“To what do we owe this visit?” the elder asked.

Geralt rearranged his grip on the drowner and pulled the blanket away, revealing her poor, bandaged form. “I need healing. Magical. Should have come sooner, but I’d hoped she could heal on her own.”

The elder raised a bushy eyebrow. “Hmm. Change of heart, Witcher?”

“Long story, Elder. She needs help I can’t give her.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

The elder gestured sideways with his head, his long white beard swinging slightly with the motion, and Geralt followed him to a small herb garden, set into the edge of the woods at one side of the clearing.

“Go ahead and set her down. What are we looking at?”

Geralt spread the drowner’s blanket out before he laid her down, the elder raising an eyebrow again as he helped smooth the cloth across the ground, and stepped back, out of the way. He couldn’t stop thinking about how afraid she’d been each time she woke up, how hard she’d fought when she woke up in the middle of the amputation. It was best to give her space. It might even be best to leave her here, but the thought of that sent another spike of feeling through his chest that didn’t bear too much thinking about.

*******

The drowner woke up with an intense but not unpleasant tingling in her side and the bottom of her thigh, and opened her eyes to see a human face staring at her, the corresponding hands extended toward her. The human had long white hair coming out of his face, instead of the top of his head, and he was not her human.

She let out a high-pitched keen and tried to scramble backward, before remembering her missing leg and looking desperately around for her human instead, a half-choked sob cutting off the other noise.

Her human was behind the stranger, several feet back, and she couldn’t get to him without getting nearer to the stranger. She chittered at him, panicked, and wriggled backward as well as she could without jostling the end of her not-leg.

The stranger shushed her, and she bared her teeth, hissing at him.

Her human stepped forward, still behind the stranger, but closer, and she called out to him, a screech that rose into a question.

“It’s alright,” he said, “He’s helping.”

She screeched again, this time turning the noise into a whine that trailed pleadingly off into nothing. She started shifting sideways, hoping to circle the stranger and make it to her own person, but both men made disapproving noises and she whined a second time, confused.

Her body felt - better. The pain at the end of her not-leg that had been a constant, intense presence since she woke up without her leg was down to a vague, sore ache, and the cracked rib that she was used to twinging every time she breathed seemed not to be doing that anymore.

She didn’t remember the last time she’d felt the right temperature, like she did now.

She still couldn’t make sense of any of that with the stranger between her and her human. He’d picked her up after her leg was gone, and she’d been in his arms in all the strange, frightening snatches of time since then, fighting to keep him from putting the gritty stuff in her mouth, but never to get away from him. Being so far away, and separated by someone else, was terrifying enough to fill her mind and shove everything else out of it.

The threat of the grit that made her head go light was much, much smaller than the threat of the stranger. She chittered again, the sound rising up into a frightened screech.

The stranger’s fingers glowed as he reached toward her again and she snapped at the air between them, threatening him with a yowl.

Her human sighed heavily. “Oh, come on.”

He sounded like he had at the beginning, and she flattened herself down instinctively into the ground with a whine.

“Fuck’s sake,” he said as he pushed in front of the stranger and moved to pick her up.

She held her arms up, wrapping them around his shoulders as soon as she was in his arms again and burying her face in the side of his neck with an apologetic whimper.

He ran a hand gently up and down her back as she nuzzled into him, and she realized for the first time that her bandages were gone.

She whined again, confused.

“Yeah,” the man said softly, almost at a whisper, “He’s helping.”

She sniffled and then whined, an apology this time, but he just kept running his hand up and down her back, his fingers tracing along the edges of her fin.

“Yeah,” he said again, “I know.”

When the stranger put a hand on her side, she flinched heavily, her body breaking out into a shiver, but she held herself back to just a single squeak of surprise and nestled a little more tightly into the man’s chest, letting the stranger continue to touch her.

The tingling feeling came back, all of her old pains and injuries continuing to dull into a more minor, healing ache.

Oh. Oh.

The man’s head shifted slightly, pressing gently into the side of hers, and she whined again, another apology, and went lax in his arms, her tight muscles easing and her shaking stopping.

She still didn’t like the stranger’s hand on her, didn’t like being touched by someone unfamiliar, but as her human answered the apology with a gentle hum, deep in his throat, it suddenly felt alright. She relaxed even further, her head sliding sideways to rest against his shoulder instead of up against his neck. She shivered lightly again, but this time it felt alright.

“I don’t think the things we know about wyvern taming are the things you need anymore,” the stranger said, his voice confident in spite of a little quaver that seemed a natural part of it. “But we’ll do what we can for you. This is a new one, but I think it’s good.”

The man’s arms were solid and comforting around her. His chest rose and fell with another sigh. “She is. Damn complicated going into town, though.”

The old man laughed. “Well, you weren’t built for cities any more than we were, Gwynbleidd. Who’s to say that’s a bad thing?”

“You’re the ones who raise monsters on purpose.”

“Mmm, and I suppose that’s something different to doing it on accident?”

“Aren’t you meant to believe in miracles and destiny and all that bullshit?”

The old man laughed again. “You’re thinking of clergy.”

Her human hummed, conceding the point.

The stranger removed his hand from her side. “That’s the best I can do. Magic has its limits, as I expect you already know. We’ll make some potions up for her. Something better than that half-poison witcher nonsense you’re always brewing up. You’d better stay a couple of days. I’d have expected better of you than the shape she was in, if someone had asked me.”

“Hmph.”

“It’s not an insult, Witcher, just an observation. You saved her life, and it’s no great feat to see she loves you, even as torn up as she was.”

“Silly little thing.” He sounded affectionate, and she chirped sleepily at him, her head still pillowed against his shoulder and her vision going hazy as she felt her body drag her toward sleep, being suddenly healthy turning out to be just as exhausting as being hurt.

“Maybe,” the stranger said.

“You know, she used to let me put her down.”

It was the old man’s turn to snort through his nose. “Perhaps you do need to know about wyvern taming. We might have to change your name, Wolf.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The old man laughed.

Her man shifted his weight slowly from side to side, shaking his head at the stranger with no real vigor to the movement.

She drifted off to sleep.