#--docks when they were ready to leave. the emergence back into Reality after so long trapped within regret both metaphorically and very--

[beeapocalypse]

^ aigul

[deewithani]

Welcome to the Triumphant

Prologue

Work Rating: 18+ (Explicit)

Chapter Rating: M

Paring: Pirate!Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: Approx. 1k

A/N: This is a pirate AU set on Earth, so ranks are changed as appropriate, however there will be historical inaccuracies in the telling of this story, since it is a work of fantasy. Inspiration drawn from Anne Bonney, Pirates of the Caribbean, Treasure Island, and countless other stories both real and dreamed.

You should have expected this.

You wanted riches, gold and jewels and all the things children whispered about when they pretended to shoot each other with sticks and claim their prizes from their giggling friends. You wanted to be respected, and if you're being honest with yourself, you wanted to be feared, just a little bit. You wanted to have stories written about you by all the great writers, their works praising the glory of the great Pirate Queen who dared to grab hold of her destiny and sail the open seas, brave and daring men at her beck and call, ready to lay down their lives for their brothers in arms and for the treasures that awaited their victory! You were a romantic, and there was nothing more romantic than sailing for adventure, and if you were being honest with yourself, finding true love.

But you should have expected this, mop in hand, swabbing the deck for what felt like the thousandth time since you set out to write your story on the high seas. Pirating was a dull business, long periods of sailing from one port to another occasionally broken up with a skirmish, and that is if you were truly lucky. This was the reality of pirating. More often than not any ships your menaced simply surrendered, giving up their loot without so much as a pistol shot. And the loot! Hah! So much furniture, bolts of fabric, dishware, cooking utensils, anything you could imagine that was needed for a life. So much that was not gold and jewels and all the riches of the wealthy.

You have been crew of the Triumphant for a few months, and you may not have been pleased with the bounty the ships of the sea provided, the Captain and the rest of the crew were more than pleased to take what was offered, filling the ship's hold with their plunder before giving each their share and heading back in to land. The shares for most of the crew didn't last long once the ship docked, spoils quickly traded or sold, gold and jewels spent for a few pleasurable hours in between the legs of another. Some crewmen had a family on the islands the ship would frequent, some had families on every island. But they would be broke soon after returning home as well, leaving treasures and necessities for their wives and children before setting sail yet again.

The best part of it all, though, was that they never asked about your business. They took you for your word as to who you were and didn't question it further, even though they had seen you scratch underneath your breast bindings and squat at the latrine. As long as you did your duty on the ship and were ready to fight and die with them, they didn't care what was in your breeches. You ate your hard tack like any other man and put yourself behind a cannon when the Triumphant was readying to take another ship, and you didn't grumble too much when all you did from waking to sleep was move up and down the deck with a mop and a bucket.

It was all surprisingly mundane and human, you thought to yourself. Halfway across the world from where you were born, where polite society said your purpose was to spread your legs for a man and give him children, you watched as children tugged on the skirts of their mothers as your ship came into port, women who had came here to escape the harsh realities of their own lands, only to wind up in the same position they were fleeing, taking men that they didn't want to bed to ensure their survival. There really wasn't anything new under the sun.

You suppose you should be grateful, you thought while the ship was nearing the dock, and your mind wandered easily to how you came to live your adventure, as dull as it had been thus far. You left your village the day you were supposed to be married to a neighbor's son. He was a good boy, to be sure, but you weren't interested in bearing his children. At least, not at that moment, there was too much life to live and not enough freedom to live it. Early in the morning hours of your wedding day you donned some of your little brother's clothes, cut your hair short, stuck a hat on your head and made your way to the docks to join the Royal Navy. No one took a second look at you, and if they did, they didn't care that you were a young woman trying to disguise yourself as a young man. You had barely made it to Bermuda before your ship was set upon by the Triumphant and you were pressed into service on the new ship.

The men of the Triumphant looked as rough as any men you had ever seen. Unwashed, unshaved, and certainly smelling permanently of sweat and salt and grog, but they were pleasant enough once you actually came aboard, setting you to work and letting you know what was expected of you now that you were a swabby on their ship. Once the new crew had boarded and were instructed of their new duties, the Captain of the ship emerged from his quarters. He captured your attention immediately, as no man had before. Captain Wolffe looked as you thought a real pirate should, as you expected from the many stories passed around the women of your social circle, his thick black hair curling until it reached the top of his crimson doublet, which was tied closed with a purple sash, dual pistols and cutlass at his waist. Heavy mutton chops framed his cheeks, connecting to a mustache that was curled upwards at the ends. He stepped out into the assembled crowd of men and peered out with one uncovered eye from underneath his wide brimmed hat.  

And then he spoke, and lightning shot down your spine.

“Welcome to the Triumphant.”

~~~

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[imaginedxlan]

Beta (Fred Weasley)

a/n: I had a whole frat boy series for the dolan twins and I cannot stay away, frat boys have my heart, both in real life and in imagines. Everything I do in life is for the chads and brads of the world.

beta theta pi has always been a fraternity you were intimidated by. they’re title as top house has always made you feel too insecure to go anywhere near them, but when your best friend starts dating a beta boy you’re forced to face the top house at their annual spring darty (day party for those who are unware)

disclaimer: hogwarts is basically just one greek row shawties. beta boys are hot, so expect the hottest of hogwarts to be in it.

y/f/n = your friend’s name

warnings: alcohol, sexual allusions, fratboy!fred

_____________

As the weather gets warmer on campus, that can only mean one thing: Darty Season. After suffering through the brutal winter, greek row opens up its lawns and lake front docks to the brothers and sisters of the greek system. Being the undisputed top house, Beta Theta Pi’s spring darties are always the most coveted invite. With their massive backyard and gallons of supplied liquor, theres not a soul on greek row who wouldn’t want a taste of the party of a lifetime. Well, except one.

You never bought into the beta supremacy like all of your sorority sister have. To be quite honest, you’re slightly terrified of the brick faced mansion only a block away from you. You’ve never heard anything that bad about the brothers, just that their looks and entitlement make any girl an easy target for heartache. 

Before you came to college, you had a longterm boyfriend who you agreed to stay with as long as possible, even over long distance. However, the summer before you kissed your hometown goodbye, he decided being tied down wasn’t for him and slept with a girl he met at orientation. He was only away for three days. So you kept your distance from beta and all the boys who had the capacity to make you feel as shattered as you did the July morning your ex boyfriend returned from his trip with a hickey on his neck. 

Your distance suddenly became harder to keep when your best friend, your roommate and sorority sister, shacked up with some beta boy she met in her communications class. You warned her as much as you could, her boyfriend being the blonde rich boy every girl whispered about, but Draco proved you wrong the minute he started begging her to be his girlfriend. 

So here you are, next to y/f/n who’s tucked under Draco’s arm as you walk toward the house thats bursting with sound and alcohol. He insisted on walking the two of you to the house, assuring none of the pledges would look at ‘his girl’ the wrong way. You’ve passed the beta house plenty of times over your past two years at school, never once have you gotten over the sinking feeling in your stomach to ever go in.

“Y/n, relax, we’re not a bunch of cavemen,” Draco speaks up once he notices how you’re holding your arms across your chest. Y/f/n told him about why you were so apprehensive about him, about his fraternity, he promised he’d be with you both the whole day. “Lets get something to drink, loosen you both up a bit.”

He takes you both to where there are pledges handing out cans of seltzers and beer and snags you both white claws before they’re gone. He sticks to his word and hangs around the two of you no matter how many times his brothers come up to him and try to convince him to join in on a game of beer di or chicken in the lake. You start feeling bad for him, y/f/n too, you know you’re holding them back in a sense. You tell both of them you’re okay if they want to hang out with his friends once you spot a couple of other girls in your sorority. 

The minutes feel like hours, while you’re having a fine time with your girl friends, you wish this party would end more than anything. Before you know it, y/f/n is screaming your name from the dock, waving you over. Once you get there she’s dragging you toward the lake, urging you to take off your top and shorts so you could play chicken with her and Draco. You immediately agree until you’re hit with the realization that you needed a fourth in order to play chicken.

Enter Fred Weasley. You’ve seen the twins around campus, everyone talks about them. Six foot something with fiery red hair and gorgeous bodies. You’ve seen their bare torsos on more saturday night snapchat stories than you can count. His baby blue swim hang low on his hips, putting his freckle littered chest and abdomen completely on display.

“Fred,” He says casually, reaching out his hand. “Most people call me Weasley, or Freddie.”

Your breath hitches, his hands are massive. You bite your lip to take his hand in yours, you’ve never actually shaken hands with any guy you’ve met at this school. You reply without meeting his burning gaze, “Y/n.”

All he says is a quiet ‘I know’ almost like you weren’t meant to hear it, before y/f/n is calling from Draco’s shoulders for the two of you to hurry up.  Your stomach turns at the thought of being on top of his shoulders. This won’t be a fair fight, Draco isn’t even six foot and Fred is a giant.

You edge closer to the stairs of the dock, Fred just jumps right in. The water is cold, unsurprisingly. Everything in you is praying that the chill of the water cools the flush that is running across your cheeks. Fred dunks his whole body under the water and feels for your ankles to pull you over his shoulders. The grips his huge hands have on the tops of your thighs makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“You ready?” He asks once you’re steady on his shoulders. You can’t see his face but you wish you could. His messy, wet hair splayed across his forehead must be a sight to for sore eyes. “I’ve got you tight up there, just don’t tip.”

You tell him you’re good before he makes his way over the Draco with y/f/n on top of him. She’s shorter than you, at least half a foot which makes it easier for you to put your hands on her shoulders to gain control. You’re both laughing as you try and push the other over. You’re almost having too much fun to forget that you’re in a bikini on top of arguable the best looking boy in your year in front of a backyard of hundreds of drunk students. Usually you would be more insecure about your current situation, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Eventually y/f/n loses her balance and topples over, bringing Draco down with her. Fred shouts out in celebration once they emerge front the lake. In a swift motion, his slippery hands pull your body off his shoulders to stand in front of him. His hand absentmindedly goes to your waist as he continues to shout at Draco for ‘being such a loser.’

His smile is radiant. It makes you smile with him and laugh with y/f/n as she rings out her hair. For the rest of the day, Fred barely leaves your side, his hand continues to make its way to hold you close to him by your waist. The drunker you get the less you notice it, you actually sort of like it. Any time a drinking game arises, he immediately pulls you along with him. Beer pong, flip cup, rage cage, he’s always planted next to you as you drink the day away. You meet his twin and his other friends who give him a knowing look when they see you practically joined at the hip.

His friend Blaise can’t help but smile your way, a shit eating grin gracing his features. He whispers something in Fred’s ear which makes him laugh a little. His laugh is perfect, you wouldn’t need even alcohol, you could get completely drunk off his features. You like the beta boys, you can’t understand why you were ever scared of them in the first place. George and Oliver talk to you as if you’ve know them for years, chatting about your mutual friends and your hometowns. You feel comfortable with them, it makes you happy.

“S’getting late,” He says, he isn’t slurring but his wobbly stance gives off that he’s clearly drunk. As the sky turns all shades of orange, you realize just how much time you’ve spent with him. You haven’t seen Draco or y/f/n in a while, meaning their probably up in his room. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that,” You protest, shaking your head but he stops you. His hand rests on the side of your neck, making you choke on your breath as you meet his eyes. His lazy smile makes your heart race.

“You’re very pretty, you know that?” He drunkenly stumbles over his words. Your heart is hammering against your rig cage, you feel weirdly sober now that he’s staring into your eyes. “Had class with you last semester, couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You continue to shake your head, wondering if this day had just been a wild dream and you were going to wake up in yours and y/f/n’s shared room in your pajamas any second. But his hand travelling up your side pulls you into the realization that this is reality.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don’t reply, you simply lift onto your toes to meet his lips with yours. If you were completely sober, you would never be so bold but everything in you was screaming for his touch. His lips are warm, a completely one-eighty from his cold hands against your skin. The party goes on around you but you feel like time stands still in Fred’s embrace. He pulls away from you for just a second to catch his breathe before leaning down to catch you in another kiss. His hand moves from your waist to the small of your back as the kiss deepens.

You eventually pull from each other, breathless, once you feel beer from various cups splash against your skin as a group of boys huddle next to you to sing out whatever song is playing at the moment. You both laugh as you lean your head against his bare chest, drinking in this moment.

“Come on then,” He says, taking your hand in his. Your head is spinning, not from the alcohol, but from the complete state of bliss you’re in. “I’ll grab you a shirt and get you home.”

You walk back to your house, hand in hand with his tee shirt hanging just above your knees, talking about everything under the sun. While the walk itself is short, the moment seems to last forever. When you each your front lawn, he tugs on your hand to pull you into him once more, feeling his soft lips meet yours. Your heart flutters as you walk toward your front door, turning back to him and he smiles at you, making your heart melt.

“Goodnight, Freddie.” You call out from the opened door. He gives you a small waves and tells you he’ll see you soon. Once the door is shut you close your eyes and can’t help but smile. You squeal, causing the girls in your living room to look out the window and see Fred Weasley with his fingers on his lips and a wide smile. They pull you onto the couch and beg you to tell them all about your day in the background of beta theta pi. You can’t contain your grin as you relay today’s events to your sorority sisters.

Maybe beta isn’t so scary after all.

[reaperintheroses]

When I’m Ready part 2

 Word Count: 5217 Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mean reader, Bisexual reader A/N: Hello! So part two is finally here and I’m sorry it took so long! I ended up having to work a lot this week when I wasn’t supposed to. I was so surprised at all the love part one received and it makes me feel super happy and joyful inside that everyone liked it! I am opening requests for oneshot ideas as well as just blurds/ drabbles. Also feel free to either just pop in and say hi or ask me questions to get to know me better! Also feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged in future works about outer banks! Beta’d by the baby pogue queen @uwubonebabie​ As you all know I took some inspiration from lots of her baby pogue works. She just updated her masterlist and theres like so many more fics to read. Go check out her page. Take my word for it you won’t regret it! Part One

It had been about forty minutes before you heard two sets of footsteps barrel down the hallway and two more sets walk a little more calmly. You were still crying but at this point, you had quieted down a little. You heard someone pound on the door. Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to face any of them for a few days you decided to just let them knock and hope that they would just eventually get the message. After a few minutes, the banging still hadn’t even died down and was accompanied by your brother’s voice begging you to just talk to him. Rolling over in your bed you faced the wall. Soon JJ’s voice started to accompany John B’s. “Come on (y/n), we just wanna know your okay,” you could hear him say with desperation in his voice. You could feel your throat getting tight again. “Please just go away, John B.” You sniffled as you felt a new round of tears rise to the surface. You could hear a few small shifts in the floorboards and made a guess that they were looking at each other trying to decide what the best course of action was. Eventually, the tears fought their way through your resistance and you started to sob loudly again. Hearing the floorboards creak once more you knew that you were alone. You knew that you needed to get some Advil and water but they were probably all sitting around in the kitchen and you just couldn’t face them right now. You looked over to the framed picture on your messy bedside table of your dad, your brother, and you. You were on your dad’s back and John B. was jumping up behind you trying to photobomb. You still didn’t know what happened to him or if he was ever coming back. You grabbed the picture and studied it for a moment before clutching it to your chest. You started to cry even harder. A few moments later you fell into a restless sleep. 

When you woke up it was one in the morning. You could hear JJ’s snores and your brother’s mattress moving. Your head hurt. Like a lot. You slowly sat up from your bed and frowned when you saw that the picture had fallen onto the ground while you were asleep. Bending down to put it back up on your bedside table and then stretched. You looked around for the off chance that you still had Advil in your room from your last headache. No such luck. Grabbing your empty water bottle you threw on a pair of socks to try to stifle your footsteps. First, you opened the door and looked down the hall to see JJ sleeping on the pullout couch. John B.’s door was closed. Walking on your tiptoes you crossed the hall into the bathroom. Opening the cabinet door you grabbed the pain relief. Walking down the hall into the kitchen you filled up your water bottle. Setting the two items on the counter, you looked over at JJ’s sleeping form. Even from where you were standing you could smell the weed. Good. He wouldn’t wake up at a small noise. Opening the cabinet as softly as possible to grab the bread and then the peanut butter. Opening the fridge you grabbed the grape jelly and as an afterthought, you grabbed an apple. Making your sandwich you grabbed a plate for your food. You cut your apple and then after everything was on the plate you washed off everything and put it back in its proper place. Walking back to your room plate in one hand, Advil and water bottle in the other you tried to open your door as silently as possible without dropping anything. Setting the bottle of pills on the dresser you quietly ate and tried to have some water. You heard your phone vibrate against your bed. Looking over to the device in question that you had discarded there earlier you wondered who was texting you at this time of night. You didn’t really talk to many people regularly. You didn’t have a whole lot of friends and your brother only texted you when you weren’t going to see a lot of each other that day just so you knew where he was. It vibrated again and you reached across your bed to grab it. Giving your eyes a few minutes to adjust to the brightness you munched on your sandwich. You looked at who the sender was and you felt the downturned corners of your mouth straighten out. It was from Anna. You were surprised she was texting you already after what happened before. Then you scrolled up on the screen and saw she had replied to your earlier texts about what happened and your apology. She was wondering if you wanted to go to the beach in a few hours to watch the sunrise and talk. You texted back a yes and looked at what time you would need to leave. Grabbing your backpack that was at the foot of the bed you took out the book that you bought earlier and opened it. You allowed the fictional world to swallow you whole and wrap you in its calming embrace.

Looking over at the clock you saw that hours had passed. Throwing on a swimsuit in hopes of being able to get in the water for a few minutes, you repacked your backpack. Checking that your door was still locked you hopped that they had the decency to leave you alone at the early hours of the morning and that they would just think that you were sleeping in. Opening your window you grabbed your longboard and threw it out the window. Then you moved everything on your bedside table onto the dresser and put on your backpack before you positioned it against the window. Climbing on top of the table you grabbed the window sill. Pulling yourself up you swung one leg outside. After making sure you had a good foothold you moved the other and dropped to the ground. Grabbing your longboard you stalked off the main road trying to avoid the gravel in case someone was sleeping on the porch or JJ was already awake and moving around. Making it to the main road you set off in silence. You tried to keep your thoughts quiet. They would only make everything worse. You knew, deep down, that you needed to talk to them. Or at the very least you needed to talk to your brother. He deserved at the very least to know you were alive. It was dusk outside. You looked around as you emerged onto the heart of the cut. The only people you saw were early bird fishermen. You nodded in acknowledgment to everyone you came across. Letting yourself breathe in the smell of the ocean in the morning you looked out onto the horizon starting to see just the very top of the sun. Pushing off once more to gain some more speed you stuck up one hand to feel the wind. As you came up onto the dock from yesterday you came to a full stop. Swallowing hard you shut your eyes and let the memories from yesterday wash over you and play like a recap. You could hear Kie asking you to talk, could feel your brother’s shocked gaze. Brushing away the stray tear that had fallen you turned back.

 Pushing onward you made it to the familiar place where the pavement broke off and the sand started to replace it. Picking up the board you walked to the familiar hidden entrance. Moving the trees that covered the walkway you ducked down to avoid getting branches stuck in your hair. Emerging onto the beach you looked down to the spot from yesterday and saw Anna gazing out to the waves. “You know you should come to the boneyard sometime to go surfing.” You smiled and walked up to her blanket. She looked up at you and gave you a small grin. “That’s pogue turf, are you sure I wouldn’t get chased off the land?” She laughed quietly. “I’m sure you’d be fine if they knew you were with me,” you replied. She breathed in and smoothed down the spot next to her offering you a place to sit. Setting down your longboard you shrugged off your backpack and set it down next to the blanket. She gave you a small frown before she looked back out onto the ocean. “You know (y/n), we need to talk about what happened yesterday.” She looked back over to you to display that you had her full attention. You sucked in a breath. “If you’re not out to your family, I’m not going to pressure you to say anything to them,” She gazed down at you, “but I still want to know what that means for us.” You closed your eyes and just listened to the ocean for a few seconds before you made eye contact with her. “You’ve obviously heard the horror stories right?” You asked her. “I’ve never told them because I didn’t want it to not go well and me not have a place to go if something went wrong,” you swallowed down the thought of something like that actually being your reality when you finally got around to talking to everyone. “As for what that means for us, I’m not ashamed to be seen around you,” you swallowed and looked at her, “I just think we should lay low until I can get around to talking to them.” You finished and stared at her. “So that’s a no on changing my Facebook status to ‘Dating an awesome surfer dude-bro pouge’?” She giggled at you. “Probably not.” You laughed back. You both settled back into a calm silence and watched as the colors of the sky change from dark to light blue. You felt yourself thinking. Telling yourself that you could do it when you got home. Say to them ‘I’m bisexual, I like men and woman,’ you knew that was wishful thinking, that you could just go up to them and say it. The sky looked like a painting, you wished you could enjoy it without all this weight on your shoulders, knowing that when you go home you were going to have to make a decision.

The sun had almost fully made its appearance. Anna turned to look at you. “Would you want to grab some food with me?” She asked looking hopeful. You pulled out your wallet to see where you could go with what you brought. Your face fell. “Anna, I would love to but I don’t have enough money with me.” She looked thoughtful at you for a moment. “Don’t be serious, you’re giving me surf lessons consider it payment,” she grabbed your hand in hers, “Also this way you don’t have to go back to your house.” You considered the pros and cons for a minute and came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t hurt. Besides afterward you and Anna could spend the early afternoon in the cut because the other pogues were helping Pope deliver groceries today. They would almost definitely take out Heyward’s boat for a spin. Standing up to dust off the sand from your clothes, you offered her your hand. “Why not,” you asked, “and later we can spend the early afternoon in the cut.” Her grin twisted into a frown. “Oh I would love to but my parents need me to stay in the 8 today.” She replied looking disappointed. Damn. You thought about who Pope delivered groceries to on Wednesdays. Okay. It was all fine. The probability of them even seeing you were slim. “Okay, then I guess we’re just going to spend the day around the 8,” you replied trying to get her to lose the frown. You quickly gathered up your things and helped her fold up the blanket. Walking hand in hand you made it to the small entrance of the beach. You looked out at the sky. Inside your head, you were saying to yourself ‘please don’t let me regret this.’ You were having a great time. You and Anna went to eat breakfast at a small cafe. You felt super bad that she paid for you as well even though she spent the latter part of the meal convincing you that it was fine. You let her lead you everywhere because you had no idea what to do on that side of the island. Tugging your hand she led you inside a store with lots of surfing apparel. “I know I need more than a swimsuit most of the time, I just don’t know what I need,” she glanced around, “Will you help me pick some stuff out?” You gave her a small smile and walked over to a rack or rashguards. You had her pick out three. While she was trying everything on you grabbed a wetsuit and threw that over the door and explained what everything did. You were glad that this was something she was genuinely interested in. She came out of the dressing room with a smile on her face. While she bought everything you looked around to see if there was anything you wanted that you could save up for. You felt someone behind you. “Are you ready to go?” She held out her hand to you. Grabbing it and lacing her fingers in yours you let her guide you out of the store onto the street. You placed down your longboard and pushed off the ground lazily. She pulled you out to the docks where the kooks kept their boats. That’s when you saw it. The Heyward’s boat. Goddamnit. Why couldn’t you just enjoy yourself and act like a normal teenager? When she felt you not moving she turned to you. “Hey what’s wrong (y/n)?” She followed your line of sight and looked back at you confused. “That’s my brother's friend's boat,” you said solemnly. Realization dawned on her face. “Oh, should we just part ways right now?” She looked sad yet understanding. You knew that if you turned around right now you could hide in some boutique until the boat moved along. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, “once I can talk to them I promise things will be different.” You glanced back to the boat as if you could see them around the deck. She spread her hands as if to give you a hug. You leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She shifted everything in her arms and looked at you. “I’ll text you tonight, ya?” She asked with disappointment clear on her face. You were about to reply when you heard someone shout to you. “Hey, (y/n) I thought you were at home.” You heard your brother yell, catching the attention of some onlookers. “That sounds like my cue to leave, I’ll see you soon.” She looked over her shoulder before swerving past you. You grabbed your board and readjusted your backpack. You turned around trying to pretend that you hadn’t heard him but just as you turned to walk away you heard footsteps running towards you. John B. grabbed your shoulder to keep you from walking away any farther. “I know you heard me, (y/n), don’t act like you didn’t.” He kept his hand heavy on your shoulder. You turned around to look at him. “What, so I’m not allowed to leave the house without telling you now?” You tried to play dumb and plastered a shocked look on your face. He sighed. You looked over his shoulder to see the other pogues staring at you two. “You know for a fact that’s not what I meant,” he gazed into your eyes, “I just want to talk to you, that’s it.” You knew deep down in your mind that being mean to him wasn’t going to solve anything. It didn’t stop you though. “You know what JB, I don’t owe you jack shit,” you seethed, “ I don’t need to tell you anything so regardless of what you have buried in your thick skull that I need to tell you about what you saw yesterday it’s wrong.” You could see the hurt in his eyes. You brushed his hand off your shoulder and turned around. “I don’t care about what you want John B.” You stalked off. After you turned around the street you felt a few tears slip down your face. Brushing them away, you kept on walking. You hopped none of them would follow. You knew you had been horrible, but at the moment you didn’t care.

Opening the chateaus screen door you kicked off your shoes. Walking into your room you set down your longboard and tossed your backpack onto your bed. You walked over to your window and moved the bedside table back over to its normal spot. You moved all the little trinkets that you moved earlier back to their original spot. You shimmied out of your shorts and pulled your shirt off. Throwing them into your closet to be dealt with later. Grabbing a towel out of your closet and snatching your sunglasses off of your dresser you decided that you would go for a small swim in the marsh since you didn’t get in the water this morning. Walking out through the back door you saw that John B.’s van wasn’t in the driveway. Good. He drove and probably gave the other pogues a ride. You would be able to tell when they came home and with luck, you would be able to make yourself less noticeable. Hopping on the deck of the pogue you moved to the side to make sure that the boat was anchored. After checking that it wasn’t going to launch itself into the water after you jumped off you walked to the bow. You pencil dived off and let the water wash over you and cool you down. Climbing back on you spread out your towel on the deck and laid down on top of it. You tossed your sunglasses next to you and you shut your eyes, you felt the sun kiss your skin and calm you down. You started to feel tired and found it hard to try and open your eyes. You let unconsciousness overtake you.

You felt cold droplets of something fall on your face. Groaning you threw your hand over your eyes trying to will yourself to fall asleep again. The droplets just switched to your stomach. Moving your hand you opened your eyes ready to grab your stuff and move to the hammock so the rain would stop hitting you and you could continue your nap. Turning over ready to grab your sunglasses you were greeted by three pairs of eyes and JJ with his hand outstretched ready to flick more water onto you. Shrieking you backed away and clutched at your chest trying to get yourself to calm down. “What the hell is wrong with the three of you?” You hissed. You watched Kie’s face move from a questioning glance to an angry frown. “What the hell is wrong with us,” she asked sarcastically, “What the hell is wrong with you (y/n).” After calming your breathing you sat up and glared at her. “What are you talking about, Kie?” You asked knowing that maybe for once playing dumb would actually work in your favor. “You know exactly what we’re talking about,” Pope chimed in. “You were super mean and rude to John B. when all he wanted to do was talk to you.” Pope glared at you. Folding your arms over your chest you looked at Kie in the eyes. “I don’t know what you want from me,” you replied. Kie sucked in a breath of air and opened her mouth but JJ set an arm on her shoulder to stop her. He looked at you. “We just want you to talk to him is all, what you said really hurt him.” He looked down at you. Your thoughts were turning. All you felt was unjust rage. You tried to shut your mouth. It didn’t work. “I don’t owe him, or any of you for that matter, anything.” You looked at each of them in turn. “I don’t know what it is that you think I need to say because unfortunately, you guys make a huge deal about the smallest things that go on in my life.” Kie’s eyes softened and she seemed ready to give you a small pep talk but that just fueled your fire. “I’m so done with each and every one of you-” once the words started coming you wished you could take them back- “you can’t make me talk to him and explain what he saw yesterday, maybe if he had half a brain he could just put two and two together and we could just avoid this altogether.” You breathed out. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I was trying to sleep.”

You grabbed your towel up from the ground and moved around the helm of the boat and stepped off onto the ground. You heard someone, probably Kie, move to try and follow you. You heard the footsteps stop and then some murmuring for a few seconds. Walking over to the hammocks you jumped up into one and wrapped yourself in your towel as if it was a blanket. You looked up at the trees and watched as the sunlight that made it through the canopy of leaves danced on the ground. You thought about everything you had said that day to your brother and his friends who were basically family and cringed. Sometimes you wished you could shut your mouth before you said anything. Or better yet just never talk at all.  You heard crunches as someone approached you sat up to see who it was. When you saw JJ approaching you with a small frown on your face. You looked off to the side. He set his hand on the hammock. “Can I sit,” he asked. Opening and closing your mouth for a second you decided he would do it regardless of what you said. “Might as well,” you replied. Looking out again you felt him rub his hand over his face. “You realize that you’ve been a bitch right?” He folded his hands in his lap and stared at the side of your head. You realized that there were two routes you could go with your response. You could continue to be rude and succeed in your quest of becoming a professional jerk or you could just let go and accept that this wasn’t just some small thing that you could let go and pretend never happened. You decided that the latter would get you farther. “I know.” you looked down at the towel that had pooled around your waist. He grabbed your hand and cupped it around yours. “I understand that this is gonna be a difficult conversation for both of you but I can promise that he will be nothing but supportive.” He exhaled. “You know if he wasn’t we would kick his ass.” That got you to give him a smile. “How about this-” you turned to look up at him- “if you go talk to him we can all watch some chick flick together, you can pick.” You started to play with a loose thread at the bottom of his shirt. Deciding that it would be best to just go and apologize. “Where is he,” you asked quietly. “In his bedroom,” he glanced towards the bushes that were blocking his view to the boat, “I’ll keep them outside till you come to grab us for the movie.” You moved your hand away and pecked him on the cheek before jumping down.

Opening the back door you walked into your house. Passing the kitchen into the hallway that your brother and your bedrooms were in. Walking past his room you walked into your own and got dressed into some comfy clothes. Braiding your hair you tried to take as long as possible. When you finally finished and tied it off you decided that now was as good a time as ever. You reached for your door handle before you turned around and threw open your underwear drawer. Digging threw to the back you grabbed the small bisexual flag that Anna had given to you a few months back. Stuffing it in your pocket you shut your drawer and put your hand on the knob. Twisting you walked out and shut the door before you could stop yourself. The hallway seemed to almost double in length. You shut your eyes and walked down the hallway that you had memorized. Stopping in front of his door you raised your fist to knock. You hesitated. Maybe in the time, you had taken to change he had left to go to the store and it would be pointless to knock. Maybe he was asleep. Maybes swirled around in your head. Your hand fell. You stuffed it in your pocket and felt the fabric of your flag. You tried to control your breathing. In. Out. You knocked against the door twice before. Stepping back you leaned against the wall. You balled up the flag in your hand. You heard shuffling around before the door fell open and John B. looked at you with wide eyes. He moved aside and gestured for you to come in. Making your fist tighter you walked inside. You hovered by the door and made sure that it was cracked in case you needed to bolt. He sat down on the bed. You looked at him and felt a small frown grow on your face. “Aren’t you going to say something,” you asked already feeling a pit of dread grow in your stomach. He looked up at you and smiled. “I’m not going to say anything until it’s okay.” He gestured for you to come to sit on the bed. Walking over you sat as far away from him as possible. You were expecting the worse. You shut your eyes and gathered your thoughts. Finally, you looked over at him. “So I guess the cats already out of the bag,” you started. He made a keep going gesture with his hands. You knew it wouldn’t be that easy but you still had a very tiny sliver of hope. You were trying to think of how to best put your words together. “So the girl you saw me with, her name is Anna.” You started to play with your hands so that you wouldn’t have to look at him. “She’s my girlfriend.” You tried your hardest to keep your voice even. “I met her at school,” you were staring at the covers now trying to do anything to avoid his gaze. Looking over at the door to make sure that it was still cracked, you glanced up at him. Here came the hard part. “I’m-” you hesitated, if this went wrong that was it- “I’m bisexual, I like men and women.” He moved towards you. You tried really hard to not shy away. He pulled you into a hug. Hiding your face into his shoulder you felt a few tears start to slip down your face for the third time today. You felt something cold fall onto your forehead. Looking up from his shoulder you saw that he was crying too. You hugged for a while. “You know, if dad was here he would be really proud of you.” He peered down at you with a small smile. You leaned against him and tried to not start crying again. You cleared your throat. “You know everyone else is waiting for us to come to get them, so we should probably go do that.” He laughed. You moved away from him and heard the sheets rumple. You heard him stretch and crack his back. Picking up your gaze you saw that he was holding a hand out to you. Grabbing it and groaning you let him pull you up with little resistance. Stretching out you heard him play with his hands for a moment. “You do realize you need to apologize to everyone right,” he said with no hint of scolding. Breathing in deeply through your nose, you sighed. “I know,” you replied. You walked hand in hand to the back patio. He went first and opened the door. When you followed you saw everyone sit up a little straighter. John B. nudged you with his toe. You turned to glare at him for a second before you turned back to them. “I-” you got flashbacks from the entire day and cringed- “I’m sorry I was such a bitch today.” You tried to think of how to best phrase everything. “I shouldn’t have acted so childishly.” you started to talk with your hands. “I was upset and wasn’t thinking right.” You looked at each of them in turn. “I feel super horrible and I’m hoping you can forgive me.” You let your hands fall down to your sides. You saw them look at each other before they looked back at you. “You were forgiven the moment you walked out that door with your brother,” Kie replied giving you a tiny smile. You felt the relief flow through you. “Though I do believe I promised you a chick flick and it’s starting to get cold out here.” JJ gestured for you to lead the way inside. Opening the screen door you held it open for everyone as they all filed inside. John B. and Kie walked over to the kitchen to start making snacks. Pope and JJ started to fold away the pull out while you walked over to the small shelf of movies. Grabbing Dirty Dancing, you walked over to the small T.V. to set it up. After you popped the DVD in you stood up and brushed off your legs. Turning back around you saw a half of the blankets in the house had been pilled on the couch. Walking over to the kitchen you saw that Kie had set out the snacks on the counter and was smiling over at the setup the boys were trying to make. Smiling with her you walked over to the hallway. Reaching your room you grabbed your phone off the bedside table you texted Anna the good news. After a moment of thinking, you added that you were going to hang out with your family tomorrow. Walking back out to the living room you saw that they were all waiting for you.  Going to sit on your usual spot on the end you felt a sharp tug before you realized you had been pulled into the middle of the couch. Seeing your brother glance down at you for a second before looking back at the screen. Snuggling into him you felt JJ rest his hand on your thigh and start to rub circles into your skin. You turned and saw that the sky had turned into a nice pink. Turning back to the screen you smiled thanking all your lucky stars you got an awesome family by choice.  @beth-winchester21 @losers-club6

[kpophoneybunny]

Aurora (Chapter 14) - ATEEZ OT8 Pirate!AU

Genre: Adventure/Romance (Mostly fluff)

Rating: PG-13 (select chapters will have strong language, violence, and suggestive situations)

Disclaimer: Our main girl has a name but feel free to self-insert.

WARNING: Violence, death, and gore

Tag List: @unatempesta-dipensieri @sugarrimajins @masterninjacow @twancingyunhoe @wheeinwhanders-chat (comment to be added or removed from the tag list).

Word Count: 2015

Yeosang had been back on the crew for a few months now and things were almost normal but Jangmi still wouldn’t even look at him and she panicked if he got too close to Mingi. She was the last one left who still didn’t trust him and while he completely understood, it hurt like hell. Seeing her carrying Seonghwa’s child and engaged to Mingi felt like he had been completely left behind. He didn’t need her to love him, he just wanted her back in his life - even as a friend.

“Jangmi?” Yeosang approached her as they finally neared the port. She jumped, turning to face him with wide eyes. “How many times do I need to apologize? It’s been eight months now. How do I get you to trust me again?” He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes as they filled with tears.

“You can’t. You killed him.” Jangmi choked on her words, trying to find a way to explain how broken it had made her for so long. “You killed the father of my child and I can never forgive you for that. I can’t trust you. Not after you tore my heart in two. I loved him. I was ready to choose and you killed him.”

“What about Mingi? Don’t you love him?” Yeosang stepped closer.

Her eyebrows knitted together and her jaw clenched. “Of course I do. I love Mingi with my whole heart. But that doesn’t mean I can’t miss my first love.” She shook her head and started past him.

“Wait!” Yeosang grabbed her by the arm and she gasped. “Please just talk to me. Let me back into your life. I won’t hurt anyone. I promise.” Jangmi didn’t answer, wrenching her arm free and walking over to Mingi and Hongjoong who were discussing how to go about docking in the capital without getting Jongho killed.

A few hours later, they found themselves on solid ground, looking for a place where Mingi and Jangmi could get married and a place where she could have the baby.

“It’s getting dark.” Wooyoung cleared his throat. “How about we head back to the ship for the night and look again in the morning? Besides, it’s raining.” He shivered as the rain began to soak through his clothes. “Jangmi’ll still be pregnant tomorrow, right?”

“He’s right.” Nozomi shook her head. “We shouldn’t get caught in the rain. Especially not you.” She held Jangmi’s shoulder. “You’re too vulnerable. The baby-”

“Choi Jongho.” A voice interrupted Nozomi and the whole group grew tense, looking around for the source. This couldn’t be good. The boys began to draw their swords, Nozomi drawing a knife and moving closer to Hongjoong as Mingi stepped in front of Jangmi. “You’re either brave or stupid to come here. I’m wondering... Which one are you?”

Several guards came into view. They were definitely outnumbered. “I’m desperate and brave,” Jongho answered, eyes narrowing. “One of our own is due to give birth any day now and we need to get her and our first mate married before the child arrives. This was the closest port.”

“If you turn yourselves in, we’ll make sure the woman and child are well taken care of.” The guard looked them over curiously. “Only Jongho will hang for his crimes. The rest of you will be imprisoned for piracy.”

“No deal.” Hongjoong shook his head. “Now, stay out of our way. We just need to get a few things taken care of and you’ll never see us again.” The crew’s well-being was his top priority. Another death wasn’t in the cards. And he’d forge the marriage papers if he had to. While Nozomi wasn’t a real doctor, she could probably deliver the child on the ship in case of an emergency.

“I’m afraid we can’t allow pirates to run rampant in our city. Especially when one killed the king.” The guard frowned, drawing his sword. “Don’t make me kill anyone in front of a pregnant woman.”

“Then don’t.” Hongjoong raised his voice. “Just leave us alone.”

Almost as if on cue, Jangmi let out a pained cry and began to wobble. It was enough to distract the crew, everyone looking at her worriedly as Mingi held her and tried to get her to tell him what was happening. “She’s going into labor. Think fast.” The guard grabbed Jongho, holding a sword to his throat and staring everyone down.

“Just take me and leave them.” Jongho gulped, locking eyes with Hongjoong. “Leave them be.”

“No.” Hongjoong growled. “I’m not losing you, too!” He swung at a guard and a fully-fledged fight broke out. Mingi had to leave Jangmi to fight but they were being backed up, corralled through a gate into the palace courtyard. She was gasping for air, swaying uneasily while trying to keep up and stay out of the way. She wanted to fight but she was so tired and in so much pain.

“Oh my god.” She fell over, holding onto a column to try and steady herself. “Mingi-” She was trying to hold back tears as the contractions got more and more painful much more quickly than she had expected. They were basically constant at this point and she was sinking to the ground.

“Can you stop trying to kill us for two minutes?” Mingi slashed down a guard as more came charging out at them. “My fiancee is in labor!” He turned to help her but a guard already had her by the arm as she broke into sobs. “Let her go.” His heart stopped and he froze to his spot.

The sounds of swords clashing and the cries of pain on both sides became background noise as he focused in on Jangmi’s look of terror. The same one she wore so many months ago when Seonghwa was being attacked by the wyvern. “Put down your weapons and we’ll get her help.”

“Put down your weapons.” A deep voice called and all the guards stood down so the boys and Nozomi all did the same. “Brother…” The king came to stand face to face with Jongho. They were almost identical. “Why don’t we get that woman to my private doctor?”

“No.” Jangmi gasped in pain. “Not before I’m married. I can’t- I won’t have a child without a name…”

“I’m the king. If I say you’re married, you’re married.” The young king looked at a guard. “Get me some parchment and a quill. I’ll create their marriage document myself.” He looked Jangmi over curiously. “Although, I will need to know who the father is.”

“I am.”

“He’s dead,” Jangmi answered, her voice overlapping with Mingi’s as they answered at the same time. The king raised an eyebrow and Mingi sighed heavily.

“A widow? Your child has a name, then.”

“No. We never married.” Jangmi panted and let out another pained cry, holding her belly as she grew weaker and weaker by the second.

“Get her to that doctor. Now.” Mingi moved to grab Jangmi back from the guard but the king stepped between the two.

“Don’t give me orders, boy. You aren’t even the father.” He was purposefully drawing it out, getting a kick out of the pain he was causing everyone. The physical pain of those wounded, the worry of the crew, the intense labor pains Jangmi was feeling. “You aren’t the father. You aren’t her husband. You’re nothing.” The king sneered. “Tell me, is this marriage for love or convenience?”

“Love,” Mingi answered without hesitation. Jangmi’s lips trembled before parting to let out a scream louder than anyone was prepared for. Even the king jumped. “Please. Just help her.”

The guard was back, holding a box with all the stationary the king would need. The king took the box and walked away wordlessly. The guards pushed the group to follow him, not bothering to let anyone carry Jangmi despite how desperate she seemed to lay down. They entered a building. The crew was stopped in the throne room as Jangmi was taken away down a long corridor and through a door.

“The child will be taken care of and you will all be hanged.” The king sat on his throne, looking over the crew. “No… I think you should burn.”

“What?” Jongho choked, shaking his head. “Brother, you can’t-”

“I can do whatever I want!” He roared. “You’re pirates, nobodies. I can execute you all and no one will ever shed a tear. I’ll send the child to an orphanage. After all, the woman is a pirate and she should die as one.”

“No!” Mingi seemed to lose it and he pulled out his sword, beginning to cut down the guards as if it were second nature. The crew joined him, knowing it was their best chance at survival. They would either save themselves or die trying.

“It’s no use killing my guards.” The king laughed, completely unhinged, finding pleasure in how desperate they were to fight back. “I have more men than you could-”

Jongho charged right up to his brother and punched him, pressing his blade against the king’s neck. “Do they know the truth, brother? Do they know it was you who killed our father?” He muttered, the threat of a violent death in every word.

“No.”

“Tell them!”

“No!”

Jongho growled and began digging the blade deeper so he drew blood. “Tell them!”

“Fine!” The king was shaking. “I killed my father!” The guards all froze and stared at him. “It was me, not Jongho. I wanted the throne so I asked him to kill our father and promised him a title but when he refused, I took matters into my own hands. I framed him for the death of the king.”

“Your majesty…” The head guard’s eyes widened. “Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“Now you know who your king is. Who’s next in line if you die, brother? You have no heirs.” Jongho dug the blade in even deeper. “Who’d take the throne then?

“My wife.” The king choked out, beginning to taste his own blood.

“Someone bring the queen. Now!” Jongho barked. The queen arrived about ten minutes later, having been asleep and needing to dress presentably. “Now, tell your wife what you told the guards.”

“I killed my father. It was me. I framed Jongho.” The king was crying now, terrified as the reality of his coming death sank in. “Jongho is only guilty of turning to piracy to stay alive.”

“If I kill my brother, you become the sole ruler of Joseon.” Jongho’s lips twitched. His brother’s wife had always favored Jongho, anyway. “You’d have the power to pardon us and save us all. All we want is to have the first mate married to a woman who is part of our crew and is currently giving birth and to have her and the child healthily and safely returned to us.”

“That’s all?” The queen raised an eyebrow. “No titles or land?”

“No.” Jongho shook his head. “Just a wedding and child and the assurance that none of us will have warrants on our heads.” The queen stared her husband in the eyes and shook her head in disapproval.

“Well, the sentence for killing the king is death. I suppose you’d simply be carrying out the law and disposing of the most wanted criminal in Joseon.” The queen looked away. “You have my word. Sanctuary in all of Joseon, the protection of the throne, and a marriage contract. Effective immediately.”

The king opened his mouth to beg for his life but he never uttered a word, his head rolling to the queen’s feet. The queen had to hold back the urge to vomit or cry but she slowly made her way to the throne and stood in front of it. “Guards, clean up this mess.” She looked over the disheveled crew. “Now, let’s see to your wounds and that wedding, yes?” Without another word, she led them down the hall where Jangmi had disappeared, the screams of pain becoming louder and louder as they neared the end of the hall.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Beauty Chooses II-Chapter 7

                           All my thanks to @statell​ for your unending help

Previous chapters on AO3 Ch-1  Ch-2  Ch-3  Ch-4  Ch-5  Ch-6

Chapter Seven- Culloden Moor 

I thought Murtagh had gone to bed, but here he was again kneeling in front of me. I saw a fear in his eyes I had never seen before. He took my hand and my tears poured down my face not wanting to hear what he came to tell me. No! He will be home any minute, I screamed in my head.

“Lass, it’s time to discuss a probable explanation for Jamie’s absence. Ye need to be strong like never before, ye ken?”

I saw him through watery eyes and shook my head side to side. In my head, I was screaming at him to shut his mouth, but I knew I could not stop this insanity, whatever it was.

“It’s likely Jamie has been press-ganged into service for Prince Charles. They will secure his service with threats against you and Faith. He will be convinced he must serve and lead men into battle or ye and Faith will be killed.”

I couldn’t breathe suddenly, and my hands flew to my back reaching for my corset laces. I was panicked and feeling the dizziness of oxygen depletion. Murtagh pulled my jacket off and quickly pulled my laces enough for a deep breath. I held my skirts to my face and sobbed like I would die from this broken heart. When I could steady myself, I looked up at Murtagh.

”If Jamie fights on Culloden Moore he will be killed, and we will be next.”

“I believe Jamie will find a way to escape and we have to be ready to disappear with him. We can hide out until a ship will have us. Don’t lose faith in Jamie lass, he will find his way back, and alive.”

Murtagh went to bed and I stayed in the parlor all night, waiting for Jamie to return, waiting for my heart to start again, waiting for an inkling of hope all was not lost. I did not see my bedroom for three days because I was waiting for Jamie. I didn’t eat or speak to anyone other than Faith. On the third day, my lack of sleep drove my sanity away. I saw Jamie out the windows, working or feeding horses. I jumped up and down, so happy to see him safe. Running outside I would not be able to find him, and my despair would return. During dinner the third night, I saw Jamie walk down the hall and screamed with joy running after him. When he couldn’t be found I crumpled into the wall and fell to the floor. I remember nothing after that except Faith nursing at my breast and then darkness.

I woke up terribly stiff during the night and was shocked to see Murtagh in the corner chair, elbows on knees, staring at the ground. He looked so sad.

“Murtagh?”

“Thank Christ, yer awake lass. I need to ask ye, please find yer strength. Yer family needs ye desperately now, please don’t go back into yer long sleep.”

“How long have I slept?”

“two days Claire.”

“Dear God, what’s happened in those two days? Murtagh, I’m so sorry I left you holding down the house. Are the animals okay? Misses Crook and Glavia?”

He nodded yes to all my questions and filled me in on the news of several skirmishes with the British that the Jacobites had won. The Scottish troops were assembled for training and preparation of the coming battle. British troops were massing for the one-sided battle that would bring Scotland to her knees.

“Claire. Do we stay or do we go?”

I looked at him wide-eyed like I had not considered leaving Jamie behind. I couldn’t speak because this reality was outside my ability to endure. Leave him behind. Take his daughter and run away from him.

“I cannot.”

Murtagh told me to think about a plan, we needed a plan, or we would all be killed when the red coats came to wipe-out the families of the traitors. Murtagh left my room and I walked hunched over looking at the ground. I wanted to lay on the floor and just wait for Jamie to come home. But I had to move and save my daughter and two dear friends who trusted me to lead them to safety.

My days were filled with chores and fear. The British had requisitioned a great many resources in Scotland to be used to murder Scottish men fighting for our freedom. They had seized most of the ships that we would need to find passage to America, and the chance to get away became slim to non-existent. On April first I hung my head and cried for Jamie to come home. Seventeen days to escape my love, it’s time to find a way.

Murtagh and I were exhausted trying to fill Jamie’s shoes; when I could no longer stand it, I climbed the hill and found my tree. I sat on the ground and ran my hand over the place I would wake up day after day and Jamie’s smiling face filled my mind. It was transporting. I closed my eyes and let those memories drift through my mind, making me forget he was gone. The dipping temperature woke me hours later and I staggered to my feet feeling my breasts achingly full trying to remember the last time I had nursed Faith. I was running and misjudged the hill, running straight off the edge, and flying through the air before tumbling to the bottom.

“Claire!” Murtagh pulled me up. “I’ve been lookin everywhere for ye lass, are ye alright?”

All I could think of was Faith as I ran to the house and up to the nursery. I came in wide-eyed to see Glavia hold a cup to Faith encouraging her to sip the milk. Misses Crook was behind her with a big encouraging smile.

“What are you doing?”

“Teaching the little beauty to drink from a cup and look at her!”

I felt betrayed and suddenly left out. I had hardly seen my daughter except to nurse her in the past three weeks, and here she was learning to drink without me. Glavia was nothing short of a miracle since the day she delivered my baby. I loved her and knew she meant only the best for Faith, so I kept quiet.

When Faith saw me, she reached out calling, “mama up. ” Glavia held her hands while she took bold steps toward me and I sank down to the floor to witness this miracle. Faith was breathing hard and smiling as she came to me. I held out my hands and caught the second love of my life holding her to me and wishing Jamie was here to see this.

On April 13th, Murtagh again went to the docks and returned with nothing. He was starting to pester me about the plan. It was time to go and I knew it. I couldn’t think with the battle on our heels; I would rather sit in a corner and pray for Jamie’s safety.

On April 17, 1745 I sat on my bed and watched the sun come up through bloodshot eyes. It was almost over and the greatest man I had ever known would raise his sword against the muskets, carbines, pistols, cannons, and 35-inch swords of the British army who will outnumber the Highlanders four to one. I sobbed and hugged Jamie in my head. Trying to say everything I thought I had a lifetime to say. Please hear me Jamie. I love you, until the end of time, wait for me in heaven, feel my love.

Jamie was in battle uniform in the quiet of the sunrise. He knew the battle would be lost today and his worry over Claire and Faith nearly crippled him. He had tried to escape twice and paid dire consequences at the wrong end of the whip. He pulled Claire into his mind and when he saw her wide golden eyes and beautiful face, it broke him. He walked the field they were camped in trying to stay ahead of the guards posted to him day and night. He just wanted to be alone with the Sassenach and Faith one last time.

In his mind, he touched her cheek. I hope yer on a fast ship to America my love, far away from the devastation to come. I hope ye remember me always. The man who loved ye like ye were the sunrise itself. It has been this lad’s honor to love ye and I humbly thank ye lass.

All day, Murtagh and I carried supplies high into the hills where we would hide in a secret cave barely big enough for one person. On my third climb, I fought my skirts and strangulating corset, finally throwing my armload to the ground I walked back to the house.

“Misses Crook! Kindly assist me with this hateful corset.”

I climbed into the attic with Misses Crook looking like I was the worst sinner she had ever seen. To be walking around the house without my corset was just not done. I was pleasantly surprised I was not panting for air from my efforts and set about looking for clothing I could wear. When I emerged, I wore breeks, a linen shirt, boots and a hat with my hair stuffed neatly inside. The next ten trips up to the cave that day were far easier.

I had a steady stream of tears on my cheeks throughout the day. I was so tired I could not move anymore. The battle was over and Jamie was dead, my dreams were dead, my world was dead, and this century was dead to me. We hunkered down in the cave and slept fitfully all night wondering if Lallybroch was being raided and if we would ever see it again.

The next day I passed out salted fish and jerky to everyone except Faith who was nursed as always. I told everyone we were leaving this place, today. Gone were my refined manners and speech, I addressed them like a New Yorker, and I was taking them home to my century. One way or another.

I crept into the barn after hiding to watch the house for ten minutes. I saddled Brimstone quickly with shaking hands and held my breath. I led her quickly out into the long grass and then mounted and galloped into the woods. I told her how sorry I was, but we needed speed and urged her to keep running. When I tied her to a tree at the bottom of the gorge, I heard thunder above my head and a second later, rain. It came down in buckets soaking me through. I held my ears from the loud claps of thunder and sat on a large rock to wait the storm out, never so defeated in my life.

I stared at the rocks, as far as my eyes could see. Normal, round, ugly rocks that held no magic to get us to safety. I continued to stare at them and saw the pounding rain hit them with force. Pieces of sand and dirt were knocked away and slowly the outer crust of dirt melted away by the pounding rain to reveal a beautiful, brilliant blue! I screamed and jumped up to lift the rock into my sack, smiling ear to ear.

There were more and more pieces revealed by this miracle rain and I gathered them all into my sack and tied it my saddle. If the magic was still there, we would escape sure death today. I galloped home with renewed hope slowing to a quiet gate as I approached the estate. The rain continued and the house was crawling with redcoats.

I pulled the tack off Brimstone and told her to go home, then I ran for the big hill to join my family and get us to a safer time. I saw several redcoats in the hills above Lallybroch and luckily avoided being seen. As I approached the cave my heart nearly stopped when I saw Murtagh, Misses Crook, Glavia, and my darling Faith, being pushed out of the cave, the swords of two British soldiers were at their backs.

I was breathing so hard I thought I might pass out, so I sat low behind a tree and calmed my breathing. I prayed for the strength to do this and prayed to Jamie to help me know when to run to my family. The minutes were like hours as I watched the sadistic soldiers torture Murtagh and leer at Glavia. She was so scared and my heart broke for her. There was nowhere for the group to run as the soldiers were in front of the path that led down the hill, they were captives awaiting execution.

When the soldiers huddled to discuss the murder and rape of Glavia, I made a run for my “family” holding my finger to my lips to shush them all. I held out my hands instructing us all to join hands tightly, and not to let go under any circumstance. I didn’t bother with whispering anymore. I reached into the sack and pulled out the biggest blue stone yelling at them not to let go!

Two muskets were raised and aimed at my head and the balls were fired into thin air, we had vanished leaving the soldiers staring ahead, mute with shock. I clung to Glavia and Murtagh and felt the whole group jettison away from this time. I concentrated on modern Scotland and Lallybroch, envisioning how it was when I left.

When I became aware of the others again, we were standing in front of Lallybroch on a warm sunny day. I pulled Faith into my arms and kissed her awake. My smile was so big it hurt until I saw the terrified faces of Murtagh, Glavia, and Misses Crook. The women were crying uncontrollably and clinging to each other. I put my arms around them and told them we were alright.

“We made it! I’m sure of it. Please trust me, it was the only way to save all of you. We are at Lallybroch, two-hundred and fifty years in the future. I am a time traveler, and this is my time. I know it’s a lot to take in, but we would have died horrible deaths at the hands of those soldiers. This was the only way. I’m sorry it was such a shock. I am not happy about being here, but you are all alive and hopefully, I’ll get you back to your time, when it’s safer.”

The house looked incredible as we walked toward it. It shined with new windows and paint, fences repaired and whitewashed, and a garden! I wondered if I brought us to the wrong time and we were about to walk into someone’s home. My poor startled friends were huddled together, scared shitless, and looking suspiciously at me.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me for not telling you before we made the jump. There just wasn’t time. Please, don’t be afraid. This is safest place you could hope to be. I don’t remember the house looking this way so I’m going in first to make sure it’s empty. I gave the estate to my best friend before I went through the stones to stay in your century with Jamie.” Blank, fearful faces looked at me. “It’s a very long story and I will tell you everything in due time.”

I knocked on the kitchen door and said hello! Nothing. The door was locked so I walked around the house counting to the third window. I reached high and felt a key. Thank you Joe, I thought, for always being consistent.

I returned to the group huddled at the front of the door and held them back as I unlocked the door, telling them I would check the house and then let them in. The kitchen was completely updated and smelled like fresh paint. It was so lovely. I crept through the room and noticed the fire pit and cauldron had been replaced with a contemporary stove. When I looked up, I stopped dead in my tracks.

On the counter was a cell phone plugged into the wall for a continuous charge. I picked it up with shaking hands and pushed buttons until it lit up. The phone app was on and a phone number had been punched in. I hit the call button and held my breath. I knew the line connected to someone and my heart pounded waiting for a hello.

“Pet.”

When I heard his voice the last two months of worry and loneliness crashed down on my head and I held on to a cabinet to keep from falling.

“Joe!” I wept, uncontrollably. The millions of minutes I held back my emotion for the good of the group came bursting forward like a damn broke and I sobbed his name over and over again.

“I am close, and I am coming pet. Please be there. Please.”

The line went dead and I staggered to the door to let everyone in. I was holding a paper towel under my nose as Misses Crook pinched it trying to understand what it was. I took Faith from Glavia and we walked through the house that had been repaired, retrofitted for electricity and plumbing, and furnished. Each bedroom had a bed, dresser, lights, and other assorted furniture. I avoided Jamie’s room knowing I would lose it completely, wanting to spare Faith that scary sight. Joe had thought of everything including a crib for Faith and an extra bed in the nursery for Glavia. When I left him almost four-million dollars it was intended for his education not restoring Lallybroch. Right now, I couldn't be happier.

It was overwhelming to us all and we gathered in the kitchen so I could show them some of the benefits of the twentieth century. I could see they were starting to withdraw from the shock of being transported to another time where their house still existed. Wait for a plane to fly overhead, I thought.

“I’m sorry you all got the fright of your life, truly sorry.” I looked at Murtagh who was white-faced and quiet. “We are safe here. Many years in the future. No wars, no clans, and … no Lairds. I lost my control at that point and my tears flowed for several minutes.

“But! Here are some nice things you can enjoy while you are at this Lallybroch..” I opened the door to the refrigerator; it was well stocked with drinks in cans, including beer, but no food. The freezer was stuffed with dinners, side dishes, minute meals, and everything else Joe could get into it. I pulled Misses Crooks hand to the frig and put her hand on the cold cans. She gasped and pulled her hand away holding it close to her body with wide eyes. I turned on one of the burners and held Glavia's hand above it until she snatched it back feeling the heat with no fire.

I pulled a beer out for Murtagh and watched his eyes light up when he drank it down. I pulled juice out for Misses Crook and Glavia and watched their surprise when they tasted the liquid. I tipped a juice to Faith’s lips and she took a tentative taste scrunching up her face at the bold flavor. Her little arms reached for the can every time she swallowed and the laughter from that was our first relief from the stressful shock.

The next modern marvel was the bathroom and the updates were stunning. The house had four bathrooms that I could see and figured another would have been built into the master bedroom making five total. I took a tumbler from a kitchen cabinet and led them all into the downstairs bathroom. First I flushed the toilet causing them all to jump back and gasp. I turned the faucet on and blew them away with the column of water that poured out on my command. Next, I filled the glass to the brim and poured it into the toilet, wadding up some toilet paper and dropping it in before flushing it away.

The confusion on all their faces suggested I oversimplified this particular room. I thought for a minute and announced “the chamber pot” creating nodding heads and affirmative oohs and ahs. They were hustling out of the bathroom when I pulled them back to see one more miracle. I pushed the shower curtain open and turned on the shower with hot water. I pulled Glavia’s hand to the water and she nearly screamed with her shock as the water came out hot. After each person had felt the water, I decided it was time to rest.

Murtagh vanished and I led Glavia and Faith to the nursery where I nursed my daughter and soothed Glavia’s nerves. Faith was out like a light and I kissed Glavia’s hands promising her we would be alright and she would return to her own time. I begged her to lay down while Faith slept and then left her. I walked through the lower level appreciating everything Joe had done to the house. It was spectacular. I threw logs into the fireplace in the parlor and then ran for the ringing phone.

“Joe?”

“So it’s true. You’ve come back. Thank God you’re safe.”

“Baritone!” Are you coming? Please say you’re coming!”

“I am pulling up to the parking garage at the airport as we speak trying to overcome my shock at hearing your voice. Are you alright Claire?”

My chin was quivering so hard I grabbed it to hold it steady. “I lost…and then they were…I found the stones… red coats drew their weapons….found our cave…Jamie died today.” I gripped my stomach and bent over to endure the sobs that came. Baritone kept talking to me about things that were non- threatening. He kept up a steady stream of chatter that finally calmed me down.

The voice changed and it was Joe talking to me in his soothing big brother voice. They were boarding a plane in London for a one and a half hour flight. I gripped the phone like a lifeline and whined myself back into sobbing when Joe had to hang up. The plane was taking off for Scotland. I put the phone on the counter and stared at it. The popping fireplace sounded like home and it calmed me, so I just stood in the kitchen and listened. I realized that this was the hardest day of my life and I was not in my right mind. I walked into the parlor and sat on the couch staring at the fire feeling the tears roll down my cheeks.

Someone was calling my name. Two voices calling me and my eyes flew open looking for Jamie. I ran into the kitchen and right into Joe’s chest feeling his arms come around me and hold me possessively. He didn’t let me go but walked me back to the couch and gently pushed me down. I looked at him and felt my heart in my throat. My friend, my dearest friend was here, holding my hands and smiling.

Baritone kissed my cheek making me look up at his beautiful face. He was even more breathtaking than before and he looked at me with such compassion. My brain must have shut down because all I could do is look from one to the other. When I finally said something it was ridiculous.

“These are lad’s clothes because I had to climb to the cave over and over this morning and my corset was about to kill me.”

Joe nodded his head like he understood completely. “You found the rock pet.”

“In the pouring rain, it melted the dirt and sand from the rocks, and they were bright blue, so I took them all and begged Brimstone to gallop for all she was worth.” Remembering the scene when I arrived at the cave stole my voice again and made my heart pound.

Joe rubbed my arm and spoke in an upbeat tone. “And when you got back you pulled everyone to your own time?”

“I had one chance to get to them and I was so scared. I started a couple of times and then went back behind the tree. The soldiers were going to make Murtagh watch and then kill him too. I just ran for them when the soldiers were distracted. I shouted for everyone to hold hands tightly and not to let go. I saw the rifles pointed at my head and then heard the wind in my ears as we were pulled away.”

“Jesus Pet. That just happened today and look at you holding the world up for your group. You are amazing.”

I looked at Joe and thought, really? I’m amazing even though I feel shattered and small at the moment? Baritone fetched a whiskey bottle and glasses and we all had two shots in front of the fire. Joe never let go of my hands and Baritone did not leave my back. As the whisky warmed me on the insides I started to relax until I heard Faith cry. I ran to the stairs and found Glavia making her way down. Faith held her arms out to me and I hugged her close.

Glavia stood ramrod still when she saw Joe and Baritone. They both stood while I introduced them and urged Glavia to join us for a whisky and talk. The next one to show himself was Murtagh and I was so happy to see him, pouring his drink and introducing everyone. Joe and Baritone were very nice to everyone, but they could not take their eyes off Faith. She was well-rested and full of happy energy when she stood up in my lap. She looked closely at Joe and babbled at him quite insistently pointing her finger at him. We laughed at her antics until she lunged herself at Joe. He caught her easily and let her sit in his lap. It was obvious Joe was not doing what she wanted so she pressed her head against his chest sitting very still.

I watched my darling girl and wondered if she was looking for a voice she knew from some other time. I asked Joe to talk continuously for a few minutes and nodded to Faith. He launched into everything that happened since I walked through the stones. Faith kept her little head pressed to his chest, eyes drooping as she listened. When she was sound asleep Joe just held her sleeping form, and I was loving him for it. Baritone asked if she normally goes to all new people. I explained my theory, she was looking for the voice she heard daily as she grew in my womb. “That must be what he sounded like when we would cuddle in the morning.”

“This is the first time I haven’t been totally pissed off hearing about that because it’s so fascinating.”

Baritone showed bigger changes than Joe. Maybe because I knew him less in the beginning, but he had definitely changed. Confidence had replaced the confused Brainiac, and his body had filled out quite nicely. They were both stunningly handsome, confident in their own skin, and radiated love for each other. I felt the bottom of my stomach fall and my tears gush as I dropped my head and looked at my lap. I cried openly and Joe squeezed my hand encouraging me to let it out.

“Jamie’s dead. They took him a month ago and pressed him to service. He led his men into battle today, at Culloden Moore and he’s bleeding out on the field right now and doesn’t know how much I love him.”

It was the horrifying image in my head, all day, and I spoke of it before I knew what I was doing. I saw Joe reach into his pocket for a small bottle of pills while Baritone filled my glass with a shot of whisky. I picked my glass up, only to have Joe press it back to the table.

“Not so fast pet, we all need a glass so we can toast.”

Joe put something back in his pocket and filled the glasses, then we toasted to our safe landing while the tears continued to run down my cheeks. I noticed Murtagh was watching me and I tried to smile through my watery vision. I looked at him and saw Jamie right next to him smiling at me. He said, “I love ye, I need ye, please help me Sassenach.”

I gasped and shot up from the couch feeling my legs give way and strong arms pulling me up. I was in the dark feeling peaceful when I heard his beautiful voice. He was calling to me, asking for help, saying he didn’t want to leave me. I was face to face with Jamie in the blackness. He told me I was heroic today and he was never so proud. Then he told me that Donus and Brimstone would starve. He asked if I could take them to the new world. “Please Sassenach.” I promised I would. He told me to never return in the light of day, they were waiting for me, but it was safe at night. He touched my face.

“I will hang on until I know yer safe mo chridhe, save the horses.”

I fell into the black velvet and Jamie held my hand for a long time. "Wake Sassenach!" I sat upright on my bed blinking my eyes in the dark. I smelled Jamie and knew he was with me. I felt my way to the bag of stones thinking I would walk over hot coals to save the horses. When I felt two shards, I put them in my palms and closed my eyes concentrating on Lallybroch in 1745.

The wind lifted me and carried me far away very fast setting me down in the field near the house. I stayed low and worked my way to a tree behind the barn, watching. When I started to move to the barn, I heard Jamie’s voice say “wait!” I froze and dropped to the ground. A red coat came out of the house and pulled his horse that was tied in the dooryard. He mounted and rode away. I let out the breath I was holding and continued to watch. My fear was taking over and I shook with it. “Don’t be afraid, take the horses mo chridhe.”

I ran to the barn panting with the effort. I threw their tack on, saddles, pads, and bridles tying the reins in a knot. Then I attached leads to both, pulling them out of their stalls to stand in front of me. I placed a shard in each palm and pressed them against each horse's chest, concentrating on Lallybroch in 2019. I had wrapped the leads around my waist so they would not separate from me and quickly pulled the ropes away and led them to the barn. We were back and it was daylight. I carried buckets to an outside spigot and hauled the water back for them looking around for some stored food, finding none.

“I know you guys are hungry and I promise to get you food right away.” I hugged them both and left the barn, looking around the estate for the first time. The fields were planted! As far as the eye could see rows were plowed into the dirt in preparation for the spring seeding. Joe was a marvel with all he had done which included leasing the fields for planting. It was time to wake him up to find some food for the horses and people now in my charge.

I looked at the jeep parked on the side of the house, probably there to avoid shocking someone who wandered outside for some air. I smiled, which felt so foreign to my face. I was still high on Jamie helping me and looked up at the sky like I would see him looking down. I started to cry and forced myself to walk back to the house.

Murtagh was sitting in the kitchen with a beer and fruit juice opened in front of him. He startled when I walked in and his face looked so sad. He got up and hugged me for a long time. I knew both of our hearts were breaking and I hugged him back.

“The horses are here, in the barn. Jamie woke me up and said they were starving so I went and got them.”

Murtagh looked shocked and then stern. “No more of that lassie, home must be crawlin with red coats and what would we all do if you get yerself killed?”

“I am going to teach you what to do, just in case. Someone besides me needs to know the way back. Besides, I was safe with Jamie last night.”

Murtagh looked at her with sympathy and shook his head wondering why the stones allowed her passage when Jamie would be killed in less than two short years. He would choke the life out of the witch when he returned. “I’m goin out to check on the horses, lass.”

I felt Murtagh move away from me but didn’t hear where he was going. I built a fire to add some normalcy to the morning as people came downstairs after a night’s sleep. Misses Crook practically ran downstairs with a look of fear. She had slept right through the afternoon and evening and must have been startled in this strange place. I hugged her and begged her to relax and trust me. She walked into the kitchen and called me a few minutes later.

“I found no cauldren and where do I make the fire?”

“Well, they never make fires in the kitchen in this time.” I bent down to pull out the biggest pot in the cabinet and placed it on a burner. I opened all the cabinets looking for dried goods and soups. When I found the container of oatmeal, I read the directions, poured hot water into the pan and sprinkled a quarter of the oatmeal into the boiling water. Finding hot pads, I moved the pan to a cold burner and stirred the oatmeal. The whole operation took ten minutes.

Misses Crook watched everything I did and then looked into the pot and gasped. “What is this, magic? I’ll no be cavortin with the devil to make breakfast, ye can be sure of that.”

I stopped her gently and explained it was simply advanced technology and food science and had nothing to do with the devil. I filled a bowl for her and encouraged her to eat it. She was so overwhelmed, and I saw her eyes, red-rimmed, for the first time since our meeting a year ago. She was so scared and my heart broke for her.

“Let me show you how to make coffee. It’s fun and fast.”

I told her what to pull out, how to measure, and fill the pot with water, then pour it into the machine and turn it on. She seemed to do better when she was put to a task. I would have to remember that.

“Misses Crook, I brought the horses here last night and they are starving. I would bet a paycheck someone grew alfalfa in one of those fields last year.”

“What is a paycheck. What is alfalfa?”

“It’s horse food actually. When they harvest it, some people turn it into cubes with a large machine called a combine.”

I knew it was hopeless to make her understand such a leap in technology, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her outside. It was warm enough to go without cloaks, so I nudged her toward the field and started looking for the cubed food leftover from last year. I knew there was a lot of spillage and it would have been frozen through the winter. We might get lucky and find a field with leftovers from last year’s harvest. We hunted, crossing two fields before Misses Crook yelled for me. She held a perfect Alfalfa cube in her hand, and I let out a whoop with a smile.

It was on. Like an Easter egg hunt, we searched the field for more cubes. Murtagh came to ask what was lost and we filled him in. Misses Crook’s cheeks were pink from the cool morning and her excitement. Glavia waved her hand from the kitchen door and I ran for my daughter.

“What is happening in the field?”

“We discovered horse food cubes and the horses are starving.”

She watched Murtagh lift a cube in the air with a rare smile on his face. I sat on the stairs to the kitchen and laid Faith at my breast.

"Glavia, we could use your sharp eye to find more."

She was smiling with excitement and took off running for the field. As Faith filled her little belly, I watched the three of them get lost in this game with smiles and laughter making them forget for a little while.

“Morning Pet, how is my girl today, good?”

So like Joe to provide the only answer that was acceptable. He looked out at the field and three people dancing around holding something up in the air. He blinked several times and asked me what they were doing.

“I brought two starving horses back last night and they are finding food for them. It was a great thing you did, leasing out the fields for growing. You are brilliant Joe.”

He looked me in the eye for a long minute. “Are there two horses in that barn now?”

When I nodded yes, he took a deep breath. “Where did they come from?”

“I went back and got them because they would have died.”

Joe put up his hand to stop me and then put his hand around mine. “Pet, did you go back to 1745 last night to bring these horses back.”

“Yes.”

His eyes were closed for almost a minute as he wrapped his head around my truth. I realized he had believed everything I had told him so far. At least I thought he did.

“Take me, please.”

“I cannot during the day. There are many red coats waiting for me so we can only go at night. I will take you Joe.”

I felt a tear slide down my cheek and then another. My heart ached to kiss Jamie good morning and the pain that pressed on me, knowing I never would again, crushed me to my tears. I asked Joe to help in the field, looking for cubes. I needed to lay Faith down in her bed and then sob into a pillow.

Joe ran for the field and I carried Faith to her bed before laying in Jamie’s room where I let it go. My body shook with my sobbing and I felt a warm hand on my back that was so comforting and so familiar.

"Jamie! Jaaamiiiieee! I can’t bear this pain, I want to go with you! Please God let me die with him.”

I felt him pull me down and his warmth wrap around me. I could hear his breathing in my ear until I fell asleep, a dreamless, healing sleep that lasted for hours.

“Help me Sassenach.” I heard his voice in my dream and panicked myself awake. I sat up on the bed and noticed the room was darker with the late afternoon. I stumbled downstairs and blinked at everyone sitting in the kitchen together while Faith entertained. When she saw me her arms were raised. “ma-ma-ma-uppy”

I pulled her to my breast, wishing I could feel Jamie now, so he would know I was taking care of his daughter. Instead, I just blinked at everyone while Baritone filled the kitchen with the delicious smells of lasagna and garlic bread. I figured someone had gone shopping and wondered how the jeep was received.

“The horses,” I said as my memory of searching for food came back.

Misses Crook beamed and announced they had found enough cubes to last several days.

“I ordered from the feed store in Edinburgh Pet. It will be here tomorrow. I didn’t know what to get so I asked for grain, and hay.”

He was watching Faith nurse and I kissed his hand. “Thank you.”

A plate was set in front of me and I put a forkful in my mouth. It was so delicious I closed my eyes and I chewed while my mind filled with images of Jamie on the battlefield. My eyes slammed open and I shot out of my chair. How could I eat and enjoy food when Jamie never would again?

Faith was out for the night, so I made my way to Jamie’s bed, holding the pillow in front of me, clinging to it. I knew then I could not bear this pain for long. It would kill me and that would be a relief. Somewhere far away I heard the word “NO” whispered on the wind. I laid in the dark and prayed that Jamie would feel my love.

I was dreaming of teaching Faith to count hay cubes when I heard him, “Sassenach, wake up.”

I could not see the hand in front of my face it was so dark. My feet touched the floor and I felt him calling me back to Lallybroch. “Jamie, are you alive?” A whispered “help” was what I heard. I jumped off the bed and grabbed my bag stopping suddenly when Joe’s request came back to me. I searched the house for him finally finding the basement room that he converted into a bedroom. I approached the bed and touched Joe. He gasped and turned to see me.

“Pet.”

“I am going back tonight. Do you want to go?”

He was pulling his clothes on within seconds, feeling around for his shoes. He said nothing. He stayed very close, and when I told him to cling to me, he did.

The same rushing in my ears and feeling jettisoned away while I held tight to Joe’s arms. We landed in the field outside Lallybroch and I pushed Joe to the ground. He was hyperventilating and I whispered, “breathe slowly Joe.” I waited until his breathing normalized and felt him grip me in the pitch dark.

“Did we go back in time Pet?”

I had scanned the property looking for red coats and barely heard him. I could tell it was much later in the night when this land is devoid of movement or sounds from a human. My eye caught something new in the dooryard and I squinted to make the shape out.

“Help”

I took off running as fast as I could. Not looking for red coats, not caring if I was shot in the next minute. Jamie was in that shape, a wagon, asking me for help. I ran up on the wagon, left in the front of the house. I jumped inside and fell on his back, listening for breath. I knew there would be red coats laying in wait around the property, so I was silent. Joe was next to me somehow, he flipped Jamie over and felt his neck. He whispered in my ear, “take us all back right now Pet.”

I pulled Jamie onto my outstretched legs and linked my arm in Joe’s as the shard was pulled from my pocket and my eyes closed to the image of modern Lallybroch. As we were pulled away at warp speed I clung to Jamie and Joe, praying we found him in time.

In the yard of 2019 Lallybroch, Joe went to work on Jamie. He grabbed my hand and begged me to get Baritone and then go to my room. I took off for the lower bedroom bursting in to find Baritone sitting on the edge of the bed. I pointed, “Joe needs you, please.”

Baritone passed me in a streak and I stood there, panting, wanting to go to Jamie but Joe made me promise to stay away. He was already a doctor and I had to put my absolute trust in him. I waited until I heard them bring him in. It sounded like they were in the kitchen. My ears strained to hear each word and nuance and the tears came down.

“Jamie, can you hear me? Are you with me? Jamie!”

“I am fighting.”

I grabbed the wall as I spun to the floor. I heard Murtagh’s voice, yelling at Jamie and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I ran to the kitchen and saw all the men around Jamie. Baritone was doing chest compression while Joe was breathing for Jamie.

“Oh dear God,” I ran to the table where they had laid Jamie. On the other side of Joe, I put my mouth next to his ear and told him how proud I was that he survived and came back to me. I poured my love into his ear and did not let myself speak any negative, just encouragement to fight, for me, for Faith, for our promises. I did not notice all that Joe was doing and how Baritone and Murtagh were helping. I was alone with my husband speaking my love and my faith in him, feeling drunk on the hope he would take a breath on his own.

“Jamie?”

“My love.” Was but a whisper.

“Fill your lungs with air, RIGHT NOW!”

Jamie made a strangulated sound as his chest rose and he breathed deeply. Joe was overjoyed and pressed a stethoscope to his chest and pressed a finger to his neck.

I had pressed Jamie’s head against mine, like I wouldn’t allow him to leave me. With the jubilation in the kitchen, Jamie and I held each other in the blissful quiet of a secret place in my mind. His hands held me close, shaking at first, then gradually feeling stronger, possessive. He gripped me to him and whispered, “my beauty.”

[rideboldlyride]

MRAU: The King and the Reaper

(This is the telling from this, @elleleh’s AU, and artwork, approved by her. Please go follow her for more of these beautiful stories and artwork!!)

***

A loud clatter of the prison door sent it's occupant shying away from the noise, and into a nearby corner. Shivering, the man looked akin to a stray dog, cowering in the filthy cell. The visitor stood tall in the dusty shadows. A dim red glow appeared at his lips, hinting at the sneer. The stream of smoke replaced the glow, and his expression was hidden once more. But it had been enough to identify the spectre.

“Reaper."

Purring, the scarred man kneeled before his captor.

"You know me."

"Of course. You're the second most feared man in these parts."

Cocking his head to the side, he let out a tsk.

"Second? Someone must have heard something." His face shifted from bravado to intensity, and he leaned in over the man. "Tell me."

Even as the man shivered and cowered away, he shook his head.

"Not even to you, Reaper."

Eye's squinted in frustration, and the glow from the cigarette in his mouth lit them up.

"You will tell me."

Resolute, the old drunkard stood surprisingly firm.

"Better death at your hands, than at his."

Removing the cigarette from his lips, he extinguished it under foot. As he spoke again, the smoke slipped from his lips.

"We'll see about that."

***

It was a cold night on the coast of northern Vale. A sound of fluttering wings startled a drunk man stumbling out of a nearby inn, and he turned to the source. Emerging from the black, a darkly clad man with a scarred visage, rose a brow to him. The charm at his throat glinted in the moonlight, and the scar caught the shadows unnaturally.

The drunk tried to look behind him, to spot the source of the sound, but the imposing figure stopped before him.

"Light?"

Shaken from his stupor, the drunk dug into his pockets, producing a lighter. Snagging the flimsy tool from him, the larger man puffed at his cigarette. Tucking the lighter back into the other man's shirt, he turned away. Without a backwards glance, he threw a parting statement.

"Your ass is hanging out."

Still confused by the interaction, he let out a 'huh?' before the words connected with the cool breeze he felt, and he reached for his belt loops to pull up what remained of his dignity.

Pressing deeper into the port town, Qrow took in the sights. There was only one ship docked at the port, he had confirmed, but it was obvious that most of the men were stretching their legs on land. A skeleton crew had remained aboard. But he hadn't wanted the sober crew tending the ship, he wanted the sloshed lowlifes that filled the less than reputable inns.

A breeze whipped down the road from the harbor, carrying with it a misting of rain- a warning of the storm to come. Turning up his coat jacket, its large lapel kept the almost freezing water off his neck. A large crash caught his attention, followed by laughter. He had found his target.

He made no attempt to hide his presence, opening the door with an air of certainty. The men within sobered immediately. One let out a soft curse, and they all straightened up. Qrow squinted after them, and after taking a puff on his cigarette, stepped further in and out into the brighter light.

The men heaved a collective sigh. He raised a black brow at their responses, but it was the man who let out the curse that his attention was most drawn to.

Stepping up next to his space at the bar, Qrow threw down a few lien.

"Seems you mistook me for someone else."

"Got that right, pal." The man sneered at him.

Qrow sat beside him. "Well, the least I can do is pay for a round of drinks for you all."

Gesturing to the barkeep, he bought them all another round, and himself a whiskey.

"Fair enough. Guess you're alright."

"That was a pretty strong reaction, buddy. Who's got you all running scared?" A disarming smile, and a hearty laugh was enough to embolden the young man at the bar.

Slurring his words slightly, his new friend rounded on him.

"Our captain. Terror of the seas."

Qrow parroted amazement.

"You mean you all sail with the Pirate King?" He forced a little bit of awe into the last few words.

Knowing that this man had most likely signed his own death warrant with those words meant little to Qrow. If you're crew wasn't loyal, they weren't your crew. The young man pressed on, pride filling his chest.

"Sure do! He's down at the harbor still. Hear he don't leave the ship."

"You hear?" The lanky man's heart sank- this might be another dead end.

"Well, I just finished my first 'tour' of the ports, if ya will."

Ah. Fresh blood, drunk on their success. He wasn't going to last long, with or without Qrow speeding up the process. Those types never did.

"So, then, I'd guess you would have to go to the ship itself to meet him, huh?"

"Good luck. He don't take to visitors kindly. And he rarely talks, let alone notices anyone but his crew."

A small doubt nibbled at his brain. Luck wasn't his forte, but he hadn't needed either type on his side yet.

"That's not a man, that's a legend."

The smaller man scoffed into his drink.

"That's only cause you haven't met him. See there was this stowaway, see..."

Plied with drinks and encouragement, the young man spun tales that even his other crewmates would have hard times believing, but within those stories, crumbs of reality were hidden. And Qrow was good at piecing together the crumbs.

An hour later, he feigned great exhaustion, and squared away his tab and lodging. Saying his farewells, he entered his room and locked it. Kicking off his shoes and removing his coat, Qrow flopped onto the bed, fully dressed. It was one less step he'd need in the morning.

His appointment was an early one.

***

It was still dark when Qrow arose, but the edges of the overcast sky were starting to redden. The ground was slushy under foot, and the eaves dripped icy water, with one particular drop finding itself between his coat collar and the back of his neck.

Growling at his luck, he pressed out into the dim light. A few men stood outside the doors of the inns, uttering insincere farewells to ladies of the night, while others stumbled away from their perches at bars, empty bottles in hand. A few years prior, the draws of the night might have been tempting, but now, he just wanted to get the mission over with so he could go home.

Pulling a cigarette from his coat, he patted at his pockets again for a missing lighter. Cursing it's absence, he stepped to a nearby lantern and made use of it's fire.

The crew were beginning their trek to the ship slowly, stumblingly, steadily, and Qrow quickly outpaced them. However, as he neared the dock, the crew grew steadily more sober, having manned the ship through the night. His presence was quickly noted.

A flurry of sword points and cocked pistols steadied themselves at his bemused expression.

"I'm merely an... ambassador, if you will, here to speak with the Pirate King."

The sky was steadily reddening behind the heavy gray clouds, casting it's unearthly pall onto the boat and it's alert crew. A sneering voice queried, unseen over the rails of the ship.

"What would he want to talk to you about, Reaper?"

A spindly silhouette emerged at the top of the deck, backlit by the bloody sky.

"From what I hear, you don't talk much."

Curling a corner of his lips, Qrow jeered at the oily creature at the top of the gangplank. His eyes lit up with a pull of his cigarette.

"Mainly because you're not the one I'm here to talk to. Besides," the imposing young man, leaned back, moving unaffectedly by the surrounding weaponry, "from what I hear, he isn't much of a fan of others speaking for him."

Shrugging, he pulled out another unlit cigarette, using the smoldering butt of his previous one to light it.

"But I guess that's your funeral."

***

The dogs had been slow in returning to the ship, and it's captain was not pleased. It had been a while since they had been back at Harbor's End, he knew, but the itch to be gone had been there since they had docked a week prior.

His face and fingers felt cold, and he was desperate for the heat of the flames to warm them again.

Absently, two days into their respite, he considered marshalling the forces to pillage the town, but talked himself out of the pleasure. He had resorted to obsessing over the condition of his ship instead.

So when, on the day of departure, the men were slow to return, his mood had further soured. The sky was aglow red, an ill omen, when he finally withdrew the curtains on his cabin. Growling, the King of Pirates ground the heel of his palm into the aching empty socket. All signs led to bad luck for the crew and it's planned setting off. He pulled a cigarette and lit it. It was going to be one of those days. If he didn't end up putting down one of the dogs before sunset, he'd be amazed.

And then he heard it.

That damned Dreg running his mouth. This Bird of Prey wasn't going to even make it to sunrise.

Speaking as with any sort of right to command. The captain didn't care to who or what about- he was tired of that slime on his ship.

The door opened without a sound, and he emerged on deck. Of the crew still at the port, all surrounded an unwelcome visitor, weapons at the ready. Dreg had not heard or seen him emerge, and his lips curled in disgust.

"... But I guess that's your funeral."

The visitor spoke with confidence, but sounded young. Out of clear sight angle, the only things ascertainable were the dark clothes and hair, along with a thin stream of smoke. He'd make short work of the interloper when he was done.

As he moved forward, the captain made no attempt to hide his footfalls. The rest of the crew noticed it, but Dreg pressed on, oblivious to his fate. Jeering, the dogs hooped and whistled, and the fool felt emboldened.

Unsheathing his sword, he drew up behind him even as he continued to seal his fate.

"I'm not going to waste the captain's time with a minion like you!"

Like a mouse discerning it's fate as a hawk's shadow falls upon it during it's last moments, Dreg spotted the imposing shadow fall upon him. Before he could turn, the Pirate King's sword slipped effortlessly through him. Trembling hands, the slimy cur turned to his captain, muttering out protests to an indifferent expression.

His words became distant, as his eyes rolled back into his head, and he slid off the blade. Crumpled to the ground, the captain used a boot toe to encourage the carcass to tumble off the gangplank and into the waters below.

The crew growled and hooted when the body hit the water. Pulling a cloth from his side, he wiped clean the blade before he would turn attention to the visitor, and the men turned their glee in the same direction.

Sheathing his sword, he turned his gaze to the young man, and froze. In the early sunrise, the charm around his neck glowed as red as the eyes staring back at him.

Steadily, he stepped down the gangplank, stopping a few steps away.

He took in the scarred visage of the man before him. For the first time in many years, the captain wasn't sure of what to do next. A pause passed between them, and the crew, expecting immediate bloodshed died down.

The Reaper knew who stood before him, and the King of Pirates held no doubts either. What time had passed for them both, for their titles to mean more than their names?

"Qrow."

A raven brow rose, waiting.

"You're alive."

To say he was surprised would have been a lie. And to blame him would be a greater one.

The young man withdrew the cigarette from his mouth and extinguished it under foot.

"I'm just as surprised to see you drawing breath," he paused, and Kite Branwen saw him roll his shoulders, before forcing out the final word. "Father."

[peggysousfan]

Agent Carter Series: Discovering True Love

Redo, redo! LOL I made a few changes for this chapter. I have FINALLY gotten chapter 4 done! Seeing as the plot is getting more complicated its taking longer to write. This is the longest chapter for the series, but there is a lot of peggysous development Note: As a reminder, if you ship steggy or like Steve Rogers, you will not be happy with this fic and I advise you to not read this, as it will make you upset. This was a specific requested fic and I am following what they asked.

Its been several days since Kresminski's death, but things at the office still seem different. There's a shift in the atmosphere, one that is constantly on edge; waiting for the slightest thing to tip it over and shatter. Not even Daniel has been in a light hearted mood, its as if everything has changed; and nothing seems to be giving any hope. The only thing that can be done is prove Howard's innocence and avenge all the wrong that has happened. Not just for Kresminski, but for Colleen as well.

As I look at the clock I notice its time to leave, so I slip a note to Daniel and he meets me in the file room again.

"Hey," He says with a smile.

"Hello," I reply. He takes my hand and I can't keep the blush at bay. Quickly I clear my throat and squeeze his hand in return. "So I got a call from Jarvis earlier...and you may not like it."

"What's going on?"

"Well, uhm.." I look around to make sure no one is near before I explain. "Its about Howard. He's... he's coming back. We're going to go get him and find somewhere to keep him safe for now."

"Where can you take him where the SSR won't find him? Peg, they've uncovered every single one of his houses and accounts. Even the dummy corporations that own them."

"I know, but he may have a residence they aren't aware of and he may be able to go there for the time being." Daniel nods and looks over his shoulder, luckily there's still no one there. A sigh leaves my lungs, hopefully all goes well. He reaches out and takes my hand reassuringly. "Be careful, Peg."

"I would say I will but you could always come with us."

"Peggy..." He hesitates. "I-I don't know."

"Daniel, if you come with us then its more back up then if you were not to." He shakes his head and glances at his leg.

"I'm not sure what kind of back up I can give you, Peg. I'm-"

"The best man for the job? The only person I can trust? Or maybe you're-"

"Okay Okay, I get you point." He laughs. That sound has become music to my ears.

"You are more than capable of helping, Daniel. I know that. I think its time you saw it too." He smiles brightly and I catch on with one of my own. For what seems like a frozen moment is only broken by the time sensitive reality.

"So, uh, when are we leaving?"

"As a matter of fact, right now." I smile at him before going upstairs and collecting my things.

Daniel and I have developed a routine when we meet in secret. One goes upstairs first, then several minutes later, so does the other. Before I leave the SSR, I manage to slip him another note to meet across the street in the alley; an alley where Mr. Jarvis and I will be at in the car.

For several minutes all is quiet as we wait for him. At first Jarvis was confused on why I asked for the delay, but it wasn't until Daniel appeared that he understood.

"It would seem backup has arrived."

"Indeed it has." I smile. He glances at me with an odd look, and I'm unsure what it could mean. Its a bit hard to read in the dark.

"Jarvis. Peg." I glance at him before we head to the docks. Jarvis has that odd look on his face still, and dare a say a smug smirk as well; but it doesn't last for long so I ignore it.

The plan is simple: Hand off the money for Howard to the smuggler and be on our way; if things go south, Jarvis has a backup gas in the case and then Daniel and I can fight off any others that will be there. When we get there, Daniel and I hide away in the shadows while waiting for Jarvis.

The man bouncing the ball comes our way when I grab it from the wall, so Daniel hits his calf with his crutch and I knock him out with one punch to the head; but reinforcements come.  I look over at Daniel and he looks at me, and we both know what to do- fight. We knock down each man and head towards Jarvis. Daniel and I stick by the wall side by side and listen in. As we do our hands graze each others and I feel a shock. He looks down at our hands and then at me, and an odd shift moves in the air.

Apparently Jarvis had some trouble with Mink, so Daniel knocks him down. After a few moments of walking, we go to retrieve Howard.

"My favorite foreigners."  Howard says whilst standing straighter from the pool table. "Took you long enough."

"A thank you would be nice." I bite my lower lip to try and hide a smile from what Daniel says, but it doesn't work."

"Uh...who's this guy?"

"He's the man that saved your arse. I'd be grateful if I were you." I say, and he glares in my direction.

"Did Mr. Mink have his guys black mail you?"

"Indeed, sir."

"You certainly know how to pick your partners." I remark, and I can feel as well as hear Daniel start laughing. When had he moved so close? I glance at him and we both freeze, but Howard speaks and time begins to move again.

"Well Mr. Mink is a black market smuggler, but he got me back into the country. And he's predictable in his greed. I like predictable and I like greedy." As he says this he takes an 8 ball and tosses it across the room. Daniel and I dodge it and it hits Mink in the forehead, causing him to drop immediately and pass out.

"Well that's a relief. Now may we go?"

"Well someones in a hurry." Howard smirks and pats his shoulder. "Gotta tend to the ol' wife, eh Jarvis?"

Daniel moves around and tries to cover up his smirk, but he doesn't hide it very well. I nudge him and he chuckles, making my lips turn up in a smile. Have we moved closer? As we look at one another, Howard says something and we jump.

"What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing!" We say at once.

"Right...cause that wasn't-"

"Perhaps we should leave. That is before Mr. Mink awakens and finds we did not pay him what he requested." Jarvis interrupts Howard, and all but saves us from an awkward conversation.

Although I don't understand why it should be awkward. Daniel and I are only friends, right? I glance at him and catch his eye, but he quickly glances away. Were we thinking the same thing? But I don't ask that question aloud, instead I walk beside him as we head towards the car. Jarvis is behind the wheel, Howard in the passenger side, and Daniel and I are in the back. Howard gives Jarvis directions to a placement where he may be able to stay, but unfortunately the SSR knows about it.

"Well where else can I go?" That's a good question. I look over at Daniel and he looks at me, and I don't know what to do; until an idea pops in my mind. Bloody hell.

"Take a right turn on the corner up ahead." I tell Jarvis.

"Why? Where are we going?" Daniel asks. I bite my lower lip and look away until we get there. "Wait isn't this...?"

"My apartment building? Yes, unfortunately."

"The Griffith. Tell me, how's Miriam." Of course he's been here before, why am I not surprised.

We devise a plan for the time being. I will keep Howard in my flat until we can find something more permanent, and Jarvis will take Daniel home so we can work tomorrow. I sneak Howard through the back and up the shaft, but Miriam catches me. Quickly I come up with a lie of doing laundry, but she still has suspicion.

As if I'm some child, she walks me upstairs to me apartment door and gives a lecture about being a young woman. Terrible argument of not being able to govern our own impulses, which is why she plays mother hen to us all; perfect. Because I don't have one mother already to yell in my ear when needed. Miriam then points to the shaft where my 'laundry' awaits. Luckily Howard already beat us here and left. Thank God. I grab my bag and walk back towards my door.

"Good night, Miss Fry."

"It's nearly 6 am Miss Carter," Bloody hell! That early already??

Miss Fry walks down stairs as I enter my flat, but with a quick search I don't see Howard. Damn, where'd he go? As I walk back into the hall, I hear a woman giggle and a man chuckle. Oh dear lord, does this man have no common decency?? Irritated, I bang on the door and Lauren answers.  

"Sorry, you just woke me." She lies. Hmm, and that explains how she's got a hold of Howard's jacket.

"Oh that's okay, Lauren, my cousin Peggy. Peggy, Lauren." He glances between us nervously and looks down as I glare.

"Don't you think your cousin looks just like Howard Stark?" She asks as I shove Howard along.

"My cousin's a lot shorter." I proclaim before shoving him again in the room. He turns around as if offended. "You are disgusting."

"Oh come on, Peg! I was just having  little bit of fun."

"Howard there is no time for 'fun'. We need a plan and a solid one at that. And it better include when you're leaving my apartment." I say whilst getting ready for work.

He explains he's here to give me a camera pen to take with me to the SSR. Once I have it I'll be able to use it and take photographs of the invention's we've found. Sounds easy enough. I take it from him and get changed, then head to the office.

When I get there I see Daniel already hard at work. How is he here already? He amazes me at his incredible work effort. If only he was doing it for the right reasons. Sighing, I continue walking past him and hang my coat, only for Thompson to emerge from Dooley's office and give a speech. He's in charge while Chief is away. Great, because that's exactly what we need right now. As I listen to this unimportant drag on, I feel someone come up behind me and grab around my waist. Bloody hell.

"You look tired. Long night?" He whispers in my ear. Oddly a shiver runs  down my spine, and its not a very good one either. I ignore his question and cross my arms as I continue to look at Jack, but Steve keeps insisting. "Peggy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm listening. Now hush." I snap. With one glance I can see an unhappy expression, and he steps away from me; but only slightly to my dismay.

Thompson finishes his speech and everyone starts to line up for their assignments, but knowing Jack , I won't be getting to do anything except the lunch order.

"Not in a hurry to see what job Thompson has in store for you?" Daniel jokes as he walks over to us. I smirk and shake my head.

"You mean the lunch order?" Daniel chuckles in turn and shakes his head.

"Very funny, Peg." I hum in confirmation and look at him, really look at him.

I thing the product in his hair isn't put in as much as normal because I can see a small curl on his forehead. I wonder how curly it really is...

"Its not all that funny, actually." Steve intrudes as he grabs his jacket. "Besides there isn't any assignments for Peggy to take right now. Grabbing the orders is useful for everyone."

"How's that? She's the one doing all the work for us to eat and its not exactly real work. She's taking your lunch like an errand girl rather than getting to be in the field," Daniel replies with a raise brow. I chuckle and turn away to hide it.

"There's nothing in the field for her."

"Right, if you say so... But I'm pretty sure she can speak for herself."

Steve sneers and shakes his head whilst looking down. Why is he being so rude? I roll my eyes and nudge Daniel, giving him a look; luckily he knows what I mean- Its not worth it. Steve starts to speak up but Thompson interjects and orders me to fetch lunch. Surprise surprise...I look back at Steve, who's walked by my side, and realize he's planning on leaving.

"Where are you headed?" I ask.

"There was an anonymous call that lead to the Stark weapons. There has to be finger prints of some kind we can trace. Find the guy who tipped in."

"What if you don't find anything?" Daniel chimes in.

Steve glares but keeps any rude comments to himself. "Then it'll be another dead end. But we have to do something and catch Stark." At this I can't keep my sneer to myself. How Steve can be okay with arresting one of his closest friends from the War is beyond me.

"It was a public phone, Rogers. The only thing your liable to catch is a bacterial infection." I retort, making Daniel duck his head in laughter. I glance at him and smile, which makes Steve glare at me.

"Yeah well its worth a try, Peggy. Unlike others I'm going to actually do some work around here."

As he says the word 'others' he looks at Daniel, which makes my blood boil. Daniel does more work than half of the ninnies in this office. He storms off and Thompson doesn't question his absence. Why would he, they're thick as thieves.  As Steve walks away I glance at Daniel who's head is turned down. I hate seeing him so degraded.

"Just ignore him. He's an arse." He looks up at me and laughs.

"Yeah, sometimes." I roll my eyes at this and grab my notebook and the camera pen Howard gave me.

"No, not 'sometimes'. All the bloody time." I sigh and glance away. "It drives me up a damn wall at times. He's not the man I thought he was." Daniel nods with a slump in his demeanor. What's this about? "Daniel? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. You should probably... you know. Before Jack has something to say." That was a quick response. Too quick to be honest.

I don't like this change, it seems distant- cold. I like Daniel, I really do. I hate when he does this. For a moment we simply stand in awkward silence, until an idea comes to mind.

"You're right, I should. But when I'm done collecting the orders, perhaps you can come with me and get them. It'll be faster if there's two of us."

For a moment he's silent, probably from shock. I normally don't ask for help in anything, even if its as simple as lunch orders. But nonetheless he agrees and I smile at him before walking away. Its odd how how I feel like this when I'm around Daniel. I can feel my stomach flutter in knots and my heart beat faster. I shouldn't feel like this, but I can't stop it. I need to distract myself, and luckily I can.

I walk into the lab and pass Mr. Doobin the notebook for his and the other lab technicians their orders, as well as ask about Howard's inventions so far. They've been tampering with them to discover what they do. Doobin falls for the distraction and goes on talking about one of them while I use the pen to snap photos of the crates and devices in the room. Once done I disappear quickly out of the lab and go to my desk for the reports I need to do. After several dragging minutes, Doobin comes out and hands me the notebook. I quickly take the rest of the orders and go to Daniel's desk.

"Hey," He greets, but not in his usual polite or excitement. Hmm, I don't like this.

"You're coming with me, so come on. Off you pop. We have a lot to get done."

"'Off you pop'? Really Peg." He smirks. There he is! The Daniel I know and adore.

"Oh haha, have your laugh. Cultural differences, Daniel." He mumbles but smiles anyway and meets me at the coat rack.

"Yeah sure, 'cultural differences'" I can see the cheek he has and I get that fluttering feeling again. Dammit.

"You know what, Sousa. You will find that I am not someone to be trifled with."

"As if I didn't know that already."

He smirks and all I can think is how to get it off of his face. But soon I realize what I'm thinking and try to fight off the flush of heat in my cheeks and the dazzling thought from my mind. We walk out of the SSR and take a cab. I give the driver directions but Daniel turns to me with a confused expression.

"Uh...where are we going?"

"I have to give this to Howard before I forget. Then we can handle the lunch for those twats." He chuckles at me and shakes his head.

"Twats?" There's that smirk again. God how does he keep doing this to me?

"Daniel don't you dare."

"Dare...what?" I look at him and see a challenge glisten in his eyes, oh is that how he wants to play it?

"You are in a very sassy mood today." I state, which only makes the grin on his face widen.

"Is that right? I hadn't noticed."

"Daniel!" I laugh, as does he, and for a while I forget all of the trouble we are getting ourselves into.

All of this work for Howard, helping him clear his name, its suppose to be a good thing. But maybe its helping more than just him; maybe its helping Daniel and I get closer. We've never really had this much time together before, and now looking back, I regret letting Steve dictate that. I should never have let his childish jealousy prevent me from spending time with Daniel; innocent or not, its my life and I can do whatever I damn well please. As I'm lost in thought again, Daniel speaks up.

"Wait, Peg. How exactly am I able to go with you if men can't go past the lobby? I mean I don't look like a woman so..." He squints his eyes in thought and I can't help but smile, confusion is quite adorable on him I must admit.

"Well I could sneak you in the same way I snuck in Howard," But a quickly as I think of this I realize my mistake. Being scrunched in a dumbwaiter would be uncomfortable for Daniel's leg. Dammit I hadn't thought this through. "But then again that would prove to have complications."

"Why's that?" I feel horrible for even thinking it, but I don't want him to be uncomfortable or in any pain.

"I snuck him in through the dumbwaiter, which is in fact rather small, so..."

"Yeah that's gonna be complicated," He chuckles. He doesn't seem to be offended, but I still apologize for it. "Its not your fault, Peg. You're just being a good friend."

I should be happy about this, but oddly enough my heart sinks in my chest. We are just friends, but for some reason I feel as if we shouldn't be only that.

"Right, yes, o-of course,"  I stutter. Get yourself together Peggy. "Well I could always go and give these to Howard while you grab the lunches, then we meet back here and walk back together?"

I really wanted him there. I know we've already spent a lot of time together lately, but it doesn't seem like enough.

"Yeah we could do that." He smiles at me and looks back out the window of the cab. If only I could read his mind. I nudge his shoulder lightly, then look away. "What?"

"Hm?" Innocently I look back at him, but he just knits his brow and looks confused.

"You just- Didn't you just nudge me?" I shake my head as a no, but I don't think he believes me. He squints at me and frowns. "You sure?"

"Would I ever lie to you?"

"No..."

"Well then its settled." Curiously he peers at me, but looks away with suspicious. I look in the opposite direction and bite my lip to contain a laugh, but it doesn't work.

"I knew it! You did!" He laughs with triumph. And his eyes sparkle in amusement.

"Why does it matter? It was only a small nudge."

"But why do it, though?"

"Because I felt like it." He nudges back and I do the same. "Daniel!" We both laugh only to stop when the cab driver  tells us we've arrived. "This isn't over, Sousa."

"I don't doubt that, Carter." Ugh, that damn smirk again. This man will be the utter death of me and never know it.

I smile at him before heading into the Griffith to look for Howard. And of course he's not in my apartment. I swear I'm going to kill him one day. I find him in Helen's room and lecture him, but he simply brushes it away.  I give him the camera pen and he sets up a red room in my bathroom to develop the pictures.

"Here, you take care of them while I head back out." I say as I leave the bathroom and grab my overcoat.

"Wait, where are you going?" He follows.

"I have to head out and meet with Daniel then-"

"Daniel? Is it that one guy you were with when you got me from Mink?" I nod in confirmation and he smiles, and not a good one at that.

"What now?" I ask annoyed.

"Nothin', just...You seem pretty close with this Daniel guy. What about Steve?"

"Howard, I swear on my Nana's grave-"

"Not like that! I'm just asking. Are you happy?" At first I don't know how to answer his question, then I realize he's being serious. He actually cares. "Peg. Are you happy with Rogers?"

"I-," With a groan of frustration I look away, "That's none of your concern, Howard." And with that I leave the building and find the man I needed to see.

"Hey, you okay? You look... annoyed."

"Well I did just speak with the irritating wanker known as Howard Stark." He chuckles and its music to my ears. No matter how down hearted I can feel, Daniel always cheers me up.

"I got the lunches, so we should probably get going."

"Agreed.  Lets go." I nudge him again and he simply smiles.

When we arrive back at the office, everyone is as busy as always, but there is something new. Steve walks around with a homeless man beside him. Odd... I look over at Daniel and he give me the same curious look.

Steve takes the man into the interrogation room while Thompson goes to observe; however, it appears Steve hasn't been able to get anything out of him. Nearly 30 minutes have gone by and no one emerges from either room.

Eventually Jack comes out and walks over to Daniel's desk, and I can over hear the conversation.

"Me? How the hell am I gonna convince him to talk?"

"I don't know, Sousa. But you need to think of something. Quick."

"Why me?" He asks while reaching for his crutch.

"Because everyone else is on break and its not like I'm gonna ask Carter."

Ugh, wanker. Daniel sighs and walks over to me as Thompson goes back into the room. He asks me what he should do and I shrug my shoulders.

"The only thing I can think of is making a war connection. But the guy isn't like me, Peg."

"You could try connecting in another way."

"How? There is no-wait. I got it." He smiles at whatever it is he's thinking, but then it turns into a frown. "Please don't be mad at me."

"Why would I do that?" He looks away sheepishly and sighs again.

"Can you grab a bottle of scotch or something, maybe some food? The guy's been through the ringer, seen some bad things according to the file I read earlier."

"So your strategy is to give him a drink?"

"Not exactly." He smirks. And then it hits me. He's going to use it as a reward for talking and giving us anything he may know. While this is a dangerous field to tread in, Daniel can always twist any report he gives on the answer the man gives him.

"You're brilliant. I'll go and get what I can and have Jack bring it to you."

After I grab the scotch and burgers for Daniel, I give them over to Thompson and Steve comes over with an unhappy expression. Ironically lunch break is over for most and the office begins to fill up again.

"What's that for?"

"Sousa requested it for the interrogation."

"And how is that gonna help?" He sneers. What I wouldn't do to put him in his place. Daniel is worth a lot more than Steve thinks.

After a few minutes of waiting, Daniel comes out of the room with a look that can only be described as a victory. The man talked and said described what he saw, luckily it wasn't much.

"The guy saw a well dressed man and a dark haired woman get on the boat. That's it." I love that smile on him. He looks so young and happy.

"You're lying" Steve says accusingly.

"No I'm not. You can even ask Thompson. The guy gave us what we needed easily. " At this he gets stiff and angry, and I don't like it. I stand up straighter and watch Steve with caution.

"That's bull shit!" But before I know it, he shoves Daniel and he fall back into my desk.

"Daniel!" I rush over around the desk and over to him. Once I'm sure he's okay I turn to Steve and push against his chest- Hard.

"What the hell is wrong with you!"

"So you're standing up for the gimp that took over my interrogation?" I can already feel my limbs shake in anger at his vile words. He walks closer to he and speaks in disgust. "Now why would you do that unless you were sleeping with him."

I've had enough of this. I reach up and slap him across the face, the sound echoing though the office. Everyone stops and turns towards us.

"Go to hell Rogers! You still don't know a bloody thing about me!" I can't be in this office any longer, I need some air. I walk all the back to Griffith and not bothering to looks back.

When I return I go straight to my room and find Howard still in the bathroom. The pictures finish developing within a few minutes, then they're ready to be viewed; but unfortunately the inventions aren't the first ones on the film.

Howard is more and more repulsive. He takes it from me and tears off several to spare my eyes, as if I want to see what he's done with those woman. Ugh! I take them back with a disgusted look and peer at the photos left. All of his inventions -Perfect. Finally a win. Even if it is a small one.  Angie hollers from outside and reminds me its time for dinner.

"Go, I'll look through these You work too much, Peg."

With a roll of the eyes I walk out of the room and go downstairs with Angie. She talks about her day and I listen while we wait in line. As we pass though, I take a few rolls for Howard's to eat. I lie to the girls and say I'm going to eat in my room to read the last pages of Agatha Christi, when really I'll be going over the photographs with Stark. As I enter the room he has a grim and serious expression, one I don't like. He says all of them are in fact at the SSR, but he doesn't seem thrilled about it.

"Why is your mustache so sad?" I joke, but he doesn't give in. "Howard?"

"I need you to steal one of them back."

He explains its practically a glorified light switch in a ball that shuts off the power grid and can never be turned on. Splendid. So much for a win. Apparently he is the only one who can deactivate it, so now I need to head back to the office, sneak into the lab, steal the device whilst replacing it with an exact inactive replica, and come back without destroying New York's power grid. Just another simple day for me I suppose.

I go out to the hall and ring in Jarvis for a ride. But he acts strange, and one clue leads to another I can tell Howard was lying. If he is then what exactly does this device do? We go to the SSR and I go with the plan, find my way onto the lab and switch them out. It was easy enough but now I'm curious as to what this invention is. I go to hide in a storage room and press the button. When I do, the lid opens and a vile pops out, but what's inside has me at a complete loss of words. This can't be real. Angry, I storm out of the room and head out, but I'm caught off guard by someone from the office coming my way, so I hide in the interrogation room.

"Peggy? What are you doing here? Jack said only men had to work overtime." I turn around and am greeted with an unpleasant sight. Steve.

"Didn't mean to disturb your....self loathing." He's grabbing the bottle of scotch the homeless man never finished and takes a swig.

"Self loathing?" He scoff and drinks the rest. "Why are you here, Peg? Not just at night. Why are you at the SSR."

"If you're asking why I work here then I would be quite offended by such a question." He squints at me and walks closer. "I work here to uphold democracy. Do you really need a reminder of that?"

"But the rest of us do more than take lunch orders. And that's all you do here." I clench the bag I have that contains the device I stole. Hopefully he doesn't get too curious and try to take it. Then again its as rightfully his as anyone's, but the last thing we need is more men like Steve Rogers.

"You'll never know the thrill of wondering if Thompson is in the mood for a club sandwich," I retort. Please just stop talking so I can leave already.

"What are you hiding, Peg?" I glance away at look at the door, backing towards it.

"I'm not hiding anything, Steve." He walks closer and reaches his hand out to my cheek, and before I can respond he wraps the other hand behind my waist while presses his lips against mine. For a moment I'm stunned and don't move, but then he pulls away.

"I know you're still mad at me for earlier. How about dinner, tomorrow. I'll make today up to you." I start to protest and say no, but his hand glides lower and he hovers over me. "Please? I was a real jerk and I wanted to apologize."

"The one person you really should apologize to is Agent Sousa. All he did was his job and help you with your case. Not only did you treated him unfairly, you shoved him unprovoked because of jealousy. And I won't stand for that." Before he can respond, I turn the nob on the door and rush out. Does he really think a kiss will make everything better? He's more out of his mind that I thought he was.

As I leave the SSR, I head to the car and Jarvis drives me back to the Griffith. Once there, I go back upstairs and confront Howard. The vial is exactly what I though it was; a container for Steve's blood. I tried to contain my anger but it spills out any way and my fist hits him in his eye.

"You used me. You lied to me." I try to calm my nerves by pacing, but it doesn't help

"You hit me!"

"You don't get to use my reaction to your lies as a reason for your lies! Why do you even need this in the first place?! Steve is alive and well. What good is this when you already have the source?"

"Because that is the original vial! Steve going into the ice changed his blood. Its tainted. I don't know how or why, but it is. That is the only original sample we have before Steve went down."

I question why he lied to me, and he explains its an instinct. He didn't get to be so high up in American society without picking up several bad habits; lying being one of them. Howard thinks that this last vial contain the serum from the blood could help cure many medical illnesses.

"And what will happen if its used for non-medical purposes? It can create more of the serum, Howard." Just the thought of more egotistical bastards getting the serum is enough to make my blood run hot as fire. I'll be damned if I let anyone else receive it if they don't deserve it. Erskine was wrong about Rogers, and I won't let his mistake take hold again.

"I know, that's why I don't want it in the SSR's hands."

"You still lied to me, Howard. Knowing damn well you could have told me the truth. You can't stay here. You have to leave."

"Where can I go? I'll get caught." I shake my head in frustration and walk towards the door

"You're the genius you figure it out."

I shut it behind me and head towards the stairs, but then think it over and go to the hall phone. There's only one person I want to be near right now. I call him and tell him to meet me at the Automatt, and he does.

"Hey, you okay?" I sigh and explain everything that happened with Howard. Once I finish, he huffs a deep breath and leans back in the booth. "Damn."

"I just don't understand why he didn't tell me. Its not as if it matters or not. I would have switched them either way. But what makes me angry, Daniel is the fact that he' was only thinking of himself. If the contents are used for recreating the serum... It would be catastrophic. It doesn't make sense."

Daniel sighs and stakes another drink of his coffee. "I don't know, Peg. Maybe...maybe he was trying to keep you from the truth. To protect you somehow. But I do see your point on the serum being recreated. If the wrong person gets it...it could be all bad."

"I don't need protecting, you know that." He smiles shyly and glances away, and that's when it hits me. What if Daniel received it? But I shake off that thought, it can't happen, not right now.  "But yes it would be bad. Enormously so."

"I know. But he's your friend, Peggy. He cares about you. ANd as for the serum? I don't think we need to worry about it, at least not right now." Silence fills our booth and I don't know what to say.

He takes my hand in his and rubs his thumb over my knuckles; its very soothing I must admit. I then turn my hand over and grasp his in mine, a silent gesture with a much bigger meaning. Our eyes meet and my chest tightens while my heart pounds. There's that feeling again. The fluttering in my belly and the tingle in my hands. It always happens when we're close or touching; its rather exciting actually. I quite like this.

For several moments we just sit there across from one another before he pulls away with an apologetic smile.

"I should get home, its kind of late. We have to be at the office bright and early."

"Sadly." I sigh. He takes my hand again and gives it a quick squeeze before standing and grabbing his crutch. I should just say goodbye and leave, but something's telling me not to. I follow him outside and stop him. "Wait! Daniel."

He stops and turns around to face me. Quickly I catch up to him and press a kiss to his cheek. Probably lingering longer than appropriate.

"Goodnight." I whisper, afraid of disturbing the quiet. Even in the dark I can see him turning a bright red.

"Goodnight, Peggy."

We go our separate ways and all I feel is a buzzing sensation throughout my body, my lips tingling the most. No matter how hard I fight it, a grin blossoms across my face. When I return to the Griffith, Howard's long gone. I know what he did was wrong, but I do feel upset for shouting. What's done is done I suppose.

The next day when I'm on lunch duty again, Jarvis sneaks up behind me and tries to match my pace. I ask him if he knew about the vial Howard wanted me to steal, and he all but confirms my suspicion. He tries to convince me to forgive him, but I won't hear it.

As I get into the office, I go about dropping off everyone's orders then sitting down at my desk. As I do I see Steve standing looking at the board with all of the evidence against Stark. He's talking with Thompson about it, but Jack walks away to talk to the newly returned Chief Dooley; and yet Steve continues to stare. He takes the photograph of me at the Spider Raymond club and goes to his desk. Oh no, I fear he's figuring it out.

Thankfully a quick idea pops into mind. I write a note to Daniel and slip it to him. 'Steve is on my trail. Need to do something.' -PC. Once I'm back at my desk and he reads the note, he looks back at me with a subtle nod. We have to keep Steve from figuring it out.

Throughout the day we continue to pass notes on what to do and come up with a plan. The one way to keep him from discovering I was at the docks is to hide my personal file.

"You're sure this can be the only thing connecting me to the woman described?"

"I'm sure."  Daniel says in confidence before looking back at the stair case. We've snuck away to the file room so he could give me my file. In doing so there is no connections whatsoever to me and the dark haired witness the homeless man spoke of to Daniel.

"I have bullet scars on my shoulder that are mentioned in the diagram. If Steve were to analyze the photograph from the club close enough-"

"Then he'd be able to figure out it was you." He finishes my sentence. I should hate that but I rather enjoy it. Its nice to have someone understand how I think.

The rest of the day goes by quickly and I go back to the Griffith hotel. As I do, I try to think of a way to keep this vial of blood a secret and away from being discovered. I set it down on my bed and blast the radio to cover the noise I make with the hammer. I create a hole in the wall behind a painting and hide the vial there. Hopefully it'll be safe and never turned back to what it was; if it ever is I'll make sure the right person gets it. No more sexist arses will have such power.

[acerosu]

Day 2: Making Amends - Zoo

Day 2!

This one was a bit hard for me, but I wanted this to happen in the show in some capacity so I wrote it.

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

The ship pulled up to the docking station. It was far different from a carrier or transport, and even odder than Blue Diamond’s normal visit. This was a ship that had not been seen for a while, if ever, at the Zoo. Fuchsia colored legs made an awkward approach before pulling back and trying again. And a third time. Finally the crew teleported on.

 “Hey y’all! I’m back!”

 Amethyst strutted up from the main teleport pad. The room was empty.

 “Hey, what gives?”

 Silence answered her. Then a rumble. A stampede of Amethysts and Jaspers rushed in, all cheering and shouting.

 “8XM! 8XM is here!”

 “Told yah she’d be back!”

 “Well, look who it is!”

 “I’M NOT THE SHORTEST ANY MORE!”

 “8XM!!!”

 Amethyst was swarmed with hugs and smiles. “Famethyst forever!” She shouted, pumping her fist into the air.

 Pearl stayed away from the mass of excited gems. “Seems like everything remainded the same here.”

 “I’m so glad they’re all ok!” Steven ran up, getting his own greetings from the Jaspers and Amethysts. “This will be a big help!”

 All the excited gems froze, first the ones near the front with the entire group halting as they stared up. The room had glowed, the teleport pad was now filled with the presence of two radiant Diamonds: Yellow and Blue.

 “Uh oh.” One Jasper in the back muttered as she slowly stepped backwards.

 “Wait, it’s alright! They’re here to free everyone.” Steven smiled at the crowd of confused faces. “I mean, um, it’s a new Era? And Homeworld has changed. Even the Diamonds!”

 They stared back, first up at the Diamonds then back at Steven. Blue and Yellow exchanged glances as well, not wanting to offend.

 “Yes, it is true.” A solemn voice lamented from the doorway. Holly Blue entered, her shoulders slumped and her color dull. “Everything has changed. No more wars, no more commands. Every gem can do whatever they please.” She sighed, sulking into the crowd. “So go! Do whatever you want!”

 “What?”

 “When did this happen?”

 “8XM is this true?”

 “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

 Holly waved an arm. “Tell you what? That everything is fine for you but not for me? This is a tragedy.” She glanced up, just now noticing the two Diamonds towering over them all in the far side of the room. Her face twitched and she stood up straight, eyes wide. “MY MY MY OH MY.” She backed up a few steps into an Amethyst before falling over.

 “You broke Holly Blue.” Said the Amethyst, trying to help her back up.

 “Sorry about that.” Said Blue Diamond, leaning down.

 Yellow sighed. “I told you we should have used another entrance” She gestured to the gems still staring. “This is still a fresh concept in many parts of the Empire.”

 “Nah, It’s cool!” Amethyst spoke up. “We’re all good with it. Just a couple of Diamonds, right?” She gestured back to the Famethysts with a grin on her face.

 “Yeah sure.”

 “If 8XM is fine, I’m fine”

 “We’re cool.”

 “Diamonds smiamonds.”

 The group piled around again, talking to Pearl and Steven and even the Diamonds. Holly stood in the back still trying to accept reality.

 “We’re here to invite you all to come to Earth. Or Homeworld. Or where every you want!” Steven explained, throwing his arms in the air at the end. “It’s your choice.”

 “Woah, anywhere?” Skinny the Jasper thought for a monument. “It’d be great to go back to Earth. See my old stomping ground.”

 “Pfff. Your stomping ground? Prime’s way better.” One of the Amethysts teased. “And you know it!”

 “Hey!”

 Yellow interrupted. “Blue and I will be handling what happens to the humans kept here.”

 The group stared up.

 “Um.” Piped one of the Jaspers. “I know you’re not scary, giant commanders any more but, that still sounded really bad.” She paused, giving a nervous grin. “Sorry to say, my Diamond.”

 “Hhmph.” Yellow grunted, crossing her arms.

 “Gently.” Blue reminded her. She leaned down with a smile. “All the humans will be safe, worry not.”

 “Oh. Well that works.” The Jasper agreed.

 “Come, Blue.” Yellow stepped around the gathered gems. “Let us discuss our plan.” She glared down. “Steven, we’ll need you as well.”

 “Coming!” He ran after their much larger footsteps.

 “Alright!” Amethyst shouted. “So who wants to come back to Earth with me?”

 The Famethysts all chimed in. Some wanted to stay here and help, others were fully set on Earth, a few wanted to return to Homeworld. One thing was clear: they all wanted to have fun. Groups formed with stories of the Zoo and Earth and emerging there. Everyone was ready to move on, talking with freedom and hope in their voices. All but Holly Blue. She leaned against the far wall, staring down at the floor with a sigh. She moved to walk back to her office. No use leaving the place she’d be destined to look after for her entire existence.

 “Hey! Holly!”

 One of the Amethysts called from the group. She looked up.

 “Get over here! You gotta hear about the Kindergarten! 8XM says they managed to grow plants there!”

 Holly hesitated, frowning at the many eyes on her that waited for her response.

 “Come on! Tell us how you formed. It was on that one water colony, wasn’t it? With the giant plants?”

 A Japser chimed in. “Oh they were huge, like the size of this station!”

 “What? No!” Doubted an Amethyst.

 She took a step forward. “Yes. Lapis Prime. I was one of only a few Agates to be produced there.” She looked down, recalling the place vividly. “The plants grew out of the water into the sky like buildings.”

 “Woah. So was it like, all water? Or just really wet?”

 Holly entered the group, telling tales of her home colony. Maybe she could go back there. Maybe she could go to Homeworld. It was her choice, after all. Amethyst grinned at her.

 ---

 Blue and Yellow walked slowly down the main circular hallway of the Zoo. Steven followed between them.

 “Then it’s settled. You will contact Earth’s leaders for us. Start a dialog.” Yellow pointed to her chest. “Then we will come in.”

 Blue nodded.”Earth can decide what to do with the Zoo and the Humans inside.”

 “Hmm.” Steven brought a hand to his chin. “We don’t really have the technology to get out there. Like, at all.”

 “Leave it to us.” Yellow gestured out one of the windows. “We can easily send this station to where ever they wish. On the Earth’s moon, perhaps?”

 “That’s a great idea!” Steven smiled. “They can be like neighbors!”

 “Steven.” Blue began sternly. “These Humans have not been on Earth for centuries. They only know this Zoo. It would be unwise to simply dump them somewhere.”

 “I got it.” He gave a thumbs up. “We’ll take good care of them.”

 Yellow agreed with a curt nod. “That just leaves the matter of-“ Her voice trailed off.

 “Thank you for discussing this with us, Steven.” Blue knelt down, giving a kind smile. “You can join your friends if you wish.”

 “But I wanna see the Quartzes! Tell them hi from, well, their Diamond!”

 Yellow flinched.

 “That may not be a good idea.” Blue shook her head. “At last, not yet.”

 Yellow leaned down as well. “This is our doing, Steven. Our problem. We had them all arrested and contained. We forced Pink to do it. And now we must set them free.” She narrowed her eyes. “They must understand what has happened.”

 Steven balled his fists. “I got it.” He walked back down the hallway, waiving. “I’ll be waiting with the others. Good luck!”

 The Diamonds watched him until he disappeared around the gradual corner. A rose colored door loomed ahead. Yellow let out a long exhale, unable to raise her hand to open the way.

 “I know you are crying, Blue.” Yellow sighed. “I can feel my own tears forming.”

 Instead of scolding, Yellow simply rested a hand on Blue’s shoulder.

 “They were hers, made specially.” Blue bowed her head. “And we made her bubble all of them.”

 Yellow held Blue closer, rubbing her back.

 Blue sighed. “Pink suffered. We suffered. They all suffered.”

 A grunt from Yellow. “And now we have a chance to make it right again.” She turned to look at Blue, meeting her tear stained eyes. “Not many have that.”

 Blue took one her hands and squeezed it. “Open it. I’m ready.”

 The door swished open with a clang. They stepped in, allowing it to shut behind them. The pillars stood proud: a monument to Pink and her legacy now tarnished by the truth. Blue’s grieving pillow remained on the floor where she had knelt for many an hour.  And there, floating amid the vaulted ceiling hovered hundreds of Rose Quartz all contained in pink bubbles.

 Blue turned away from the painful sight. “She listened to us. Captured everyone. It must have hurt her so much.”

 “But we didn’t listen to her.” Yellow allowed Blue to rest her head on her shoulder pad.

 She let her tears flow freely, allowing ever moment to pass her mind. The calls, the anger, the time she locked Pink in the tower. She didn’t resent the pain; only let it flow through her as happy memories mixed with sad ones. It was their choice now. Their chance.

 “Pink.” Blue whispered. “I’m sorry. I will make things better.”

 Yellow wiped her face of tears. She took Blue’s hand and squeezed hard. “We will. Together.”

 They held up both their arms in unison. Slowly the bubbled gems drifted down to the floor, their seals releasing. At once forms took shape, light filling the room as hundreds of Quartzes reformed after centuries of being imprisoned.

 Murmurs erupted. At first confusion, then anger, then fear. The Quartzes all shuffled back to the edge of the room, staring up at the intimidating, all powerful Diamonds.

 Yellow and Blue looked at each other, took a deep breath, and began.

 “Everything is going to be alright, there is nothing to fear.”

 “We want to apologize to all of you.”

 ---

 “And here’s the barn! You can go anywhere if you want, really, but this is where Lapis and Peridot decided to set up. They farm the land and grow food, see! Look over there, corn!”

 Steven gestured at the crops flanking the barn. The Rose Quartz all stared in wonder that a mere pair of incompatible gems made so much.

 “So yeah, if you want to go back to the Zoo, we do need some people to help the Humans acclimate to Earth.” Steven smiled. “You can help each other! But there’s no rush to choose.”

 The Quartzes looked all around, from the sky to the ground to the trees overtaking the horizon in the distance. It had been a long trip but they had finished touring the immediate area. Steven had shown them Beach City and the Temple and all that lay around. Even the Warp pads that led to even more areas. It had all changed so much from the war.

 They stood in silence, confused as they had been when Yellow and Blue released them. Everything shifted when one stepped toward the bed of flowers Lapis had set up. The Quartz managed a smile and held out a hand as a butter fly flittered about the colorful petals.

 “I never realized how beautiful it is here.”

 Steven watched as the same awe and respect reflected in each of their eyes. That is when he knew everything was going to be fine.

[illegiblewords]

Snuff

Few utilize the private quarters of the Waking Sands. Although technically property of the Scions and thus equipped with their rooms and workspaces, in reality they are rarely all in use. The Ala Mhigan girl and her lalafell friend (Yda and Papalymo, Lahabrea is aware but such details are of little consequence outside the part he plays) prefer to spend their time in Gridania while the miqo’te woman… Y’shtola, favors Limsa Lominsa.

Of all the obnoxious things to keep track of.

Thancred’s most consistent company—and so, Lahabrea’s—includes the Antecedent, the elezen, and Tataru. The other lalafell.

Oh hells with it.

The Ascian, having taken over his host’s quarters along with his body, releases a loud and enduring exhale. The lamp is nearly finished, shadows long over the walls. A woman’s discarded smallclothes remain piled on the floor near the bed. They have, evidently, been there for some time. He’s already taken it upon himself to wash the man’s filthy sheets, to pick up quills and documents that had (so mysteriously) taken residence on the floor. In their wake the desk has a disturbingly hyur-sized gap, and this is something Lahabrea wants neither to think about nor interact with. So he sits on the floor with his books and his own notes.

Until his joints begin to ache from stagnation at least, which is absurdly soon considering the youth of his vessel.

Of course.

Hands held tight behind his back (posture Thancred would never willingly adopt, something Lahabrea understands instinctively even as he chews his lower lip in another habit peculiar to himself), he begins to pace.

For the time being he has access to all the resources of his enemy, all the information needed to reach a current understanding of “Beast Tribe” political finery. Exploit them to generate a power source for the Heart. He has, admittedly, permitted himself to fall behind on such matters in recent decades. With those sundered of their number otherwise occupied, the direct task of resource management and collecting fuel falls to him. As do negotiations with the Legate. As do keeping the mannerisms of his vessel straight along with the names and minute details of each colleague.

Minfilia possesses a fondness of pancakes and perfumes, has embarrassing difficulty riding chocobos. Urianger may in fact be faking his entire persona for private amusement but this has yet to be proven.

Tataru…

Tataru is insufferable. Involved in everything and everyone at all times. She’s knocked on his door no less than thrice today, voicing concern that he has not emerged for food or drink in a mere eighteen hours. Nor has he slept in longer, but that she need not know.

Thancred is accustomed to such work. Thancred engages similar activity on a regular basis. Thancred’s eyes feel ready to fall out of their sockets for Lahabrea’s dubious pleasure after memorizing the history of Sylphic relations with men, complete with small lettering and an occasional grammatical error on the author’s part. And as if that were not enough, Thancred’s head feels about ready to split open like an egg.

Hells.

Hells.

They will never let him hear the end of this. “Can’t even manage a few beastfolk, Lahabrea? Really?” Meanwhile, Emet-Selch spends half his days sleeping when he could be contributing a moment or two to the Rejoining but no. No, staying awake too is a paltry task that Lahabrea ought be able to handle all by himself along with countless other insultingly easy responsibilities that alone would be nothing to speak of. Together though, with his vessel’s intolerable headache, he finds himself fumbling at details.

Damn them all.

Ask him about the history of the Ixali in Allag, he could recite it in a blink. Their present beliefs and customs have been, until recently, irrelevant. And their hostility toward Gridania overlaps in such ways with the dynamic held between Amal’ja and Ul’dah that he catches himself confusing details between the two more often than he likes.

Elements are clear. Eikons are clear. The rest? Superficial nonsense, but superficial nonsense he must be prepared to use at a moment’s notice.

He drops his hands. Without missing a beat, he strides out the door, into the hall, up the stairs.

“Thancred!” exclaims Tataru, evidently delighted by what she perceives as a victory. “Are you finally going to-“

“No.”

Out the door. Out of the Waking Sands.

It’s approaching dusk, apparently. The sun shines a darkening orange as the sky turns pink and purple and a deep, dark blue.

There is a dock nearby. This, Lahabrea approaches.

In a perfect world, a complete world, there would be no witnesses nearby and he could scream at the infernal sun to his hearts content. But there are witnesses enjoying what might be a beautiful evening, and so Lahabrea only presses Thancred’s palms into his aching, aching eyes and kneels on the ground.

Awful.

Truly awful.

When he began to feel so tired he can’t recall. The Source is too heavy and too bright and too dull and he despises it with every fiber of his being.

He finds himself speaking in circles, more often than not. And laughing at things which, objectively, shouldn’t be funny. When Bahamut, sealed behind enough barriers to endure several Calamities and hurled into the heavens, returned out of nowhere after some odd thousand years to wreak havoc on their behalf—it was bizarrely, surreally hilarious.

Of all things.

And his sundered assistant only stared at him like a man gone mad. From the glances he collected following their great success… the others had misgivings as well.

But he’d succeeded. They’d done it. And they’d done it with an extraterrestrial dragon exploding out of the moon.

Despite himself, Lahabrea can’t help but chuckle quietly.

***

The sky dims. Lahabrea, having allowed himself some minutes to breathe, begins to stand.

Wobbles.

Steadies.

Walks, far less briskly, back toward the disgusting room that awaits him.

A moth beats around the entrance lantern. It nearly hits him in the face, an experience he ducks to avoid. It is for this reason, really, that he is caught off-guard.

“Hold it right there!” shouts Tataru as he slips back into her office.

The door shuts behind him. There are faint spots as his eyes adjust. The tiny receptionist is marching straight toward him, brows knit, mouth tight. An expression that might have been daunting on any other only looks absurd for her.

“Wha-“ he begins, only to find a surprisingly sharp finger jabbed into his stomach.

“No more excuses!” she says, no less forcefully. “You are going to sit down and have dinner and go to bed, and I swear if you so much as begin to argue with me I’ll- I’ll drag you there myself.”

Lahabrea finds himself staring, slack-jawed. Tataru takes one of his hands and, furiously, makes a valiant effort to pull him toward her desk.

There is a small curry there, steaming. A glass of orange juice beside it.

Abruptly, it occurs to him that if he doesn’t eat something immediately he really might die on the spot.

And that would be inconvenient.

***

“Slow down, you’re going to make yourself sick!”

Or choke, Lahabrea considers belatedly with a cough. He downs the juice in one go, which takes some moments and leaves Thancred’s eyes watering even as his lungs burn.

He doubles over after that, one hand still holding a spoon that trembles slightly. Waits for his body to catch up with him.

This was a mistake. It may not be beyond Tataru to drug her friends.

He feels, inexplicably, more miserable than he did before.

Another failed trial. Another weakness. Of body and mind both. Elidibus has been warning him for years, but there is work to do and he-

He can’t close his eyes.

***

Tataru does, in fact, drag him back to his room afterward. He thinks he almost managed to escape. The sink is in another part of the building. Once the dishes were dispensed with he could sneak back to his quarters and lock her out and do what he would.

“No. Do you really think I’ve forgotten last time? You’ve done enough and you’re going to bed and I’ll hear no more arguments about it,” says the lalafell. “March.”

Lahabrea does not march. If anything, he stumbles quietly in her wake and watches the back of her head and contemplates vague, unpleasant experiences he hopes will fall into her lap.

Down the stairs. Into the hall. Through the door.

“Eugh,” says Tataru, clutching her nose with her free hand. She glances about, pauses. Reddens. “How long have those been there?”

Lahabrea doesn’t look up. Doesn’t sigh. Doesn’t shrug. Doesn’t answer in any way whatsoever.

He refuses to be ashamed of a mess that is not his own.

“In the morning,” Tataru goes on, as if he will sleep until morning, “we are straightening this mess up. It’s unacceptable--why, it's a wonder you haven't caught something already!”

“One would think,” he says, and though the voice belongs to Thancred the words are his own, “you were my mother, with how you carry on.”

Tataru squints at him. Something between a glare and a deeply exasperated smile crosses her face. She points at the mattress. “Bed. Now.”

For a moment he only stares at it.

The bed does not, in fact, stare back. But if it could, he does not doubt that it would do so.

It is this thought which ultimately persuades him to comply.

***

She does not tuck him in, Zodiark be praised. That, he does himself.

“Don’t tell me,” says Lahabrea, as the Lalafell picks up his research, stacking one book on top of another, “that you mean to watch.”

Tataru’s smile is utterly terrifying and stripped of pity. “I don’t have to,” she informs him.

She snuffs the lamp out.

“Goodnight, Thancred,” she says. And then she leaves with his work.

***

He does not, in fact, sleep until morning.

He sleeps well into the next afternoon.

And with the mercy of a dreamless night, maybe that’s for the best.

[sebeth]

Doom Patrol: “Pilot”

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

S

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 Doom Patrol, Episode One: “Pilot”

 Love the opening credits. Creepy and evocative of the Doom Patrol’s “mad scientist” origins.

Paraguay, 1948: We begin with a snarky narrator and a visit to a Von Furchs, a Nazi fugitive. He is infamous for his scientific experimentation.

Von Furch changes a Mr. Morden into Mister Nobody. Nobody is a villain from the Vertigo Doom Patrol series.

We fast forward to 1988 in Florida. We are at the pre-transformation home of professional race car driver Cliff Steele. A married Cliff is having an affair with the nanny. Cliff’s wife tells him to “crash and die”. Cliff crashes after his wife distracts him.

Cliff regains consciousness after Niles transports his body into a robot form.

I can only imagine the horror Cliff felt upon regaining consciousness.

Did Cliff’s wife consent to this procedure or did Niles simply steal Cliff’s brain? Was the wife working with the Chief? It’s revealed in the Vertigo series that Niles was behind the accidents that caused the members’ misfortunes.

Cliff realizes he’s regained consciousness in 1995. Niles informs Cliff that the world believes he died in 1988?

Rita reveals the truth to Cliff- only his brain survived and it’s encased in a robot body.

Rita tells Cliff: “We need to talk about expectations. And then we need to take those expectations, give them a gentle pat, and flush them into the ocean.”

I’m sensing Rita has been disappointed numerous times in her life.

Rita tells Niles that “Everyone deserves the truth.”

The team members have to stop pushing the off button on Cliff’s body. How can he adjust if they press the off button whenever he has a reaction?

Niles introduces Cliff to Larry. Larry gives Cliff a tour of the place.

Cliff asks Larry about his story.

Flashback origin time for Larry.

California, 1961: Mister Nobody states Larry was an “Atomic Age sex machine”: a USAF test pilot and on the short list for the NASA Mercury mission. Larry was also a married man with children.

Larry flies an experimental NASA rocket plane. Larry encounters an alien energy high up in the atmosphere. The energy destroys the controls on the ship. The plane crashes and burns Larry alive.

Back to the present day – Cliff is attempting to learn how to climb steps in his new body.

Cliff asks Larry what “Drinky’s” deal is. To be fair, every time Cliff has seen Rita she has had a martini in her hand.

Cliff struggles with the reality and limitations of his new form.

Cliff asks Niles if anyone has left “this place”. Niles informs Cliff that “Some have. Some come and go. Others life Larry and Rita prefer to stay. But to be perfectly honest, those who leave find it’s often more difficult for the world out there to accept who they’ve become than they do.”

The line of dialogue allows for other characters to enter and leave the plot.  I wonder if we will see some of the other members of the various incarnations of the Doom Patrol? We know Crazy Jane and Cyborg are coming to the show.

We discover Rita enjoys knitting while Larry prefers horticulture.

I love Rita’s clothing style. Very fashionable.

Rita origin flashback.

She was the queen of 1950s’ cinema. She was also a diva.

Rita was in Africa filming a movie. The dock she was on collapses and she falls into the water. She’s exposed to a strange substance in the water. She emerges from the water with her body collapsing around her. Possible karma as Rita was having trouble looking at a disfigured man while filming the movie.

Cliff makes it up the steps! Achievement unlocked!

Niles tells Cliff that his brain has been altering his memoires to help him cope.

Cliff plays a phone message the Chief used to replicate his voice.

We flashback to the car race. Cliff avoided the car crash and won the race. His wife looks shocked about his survival. Cliff, rather hypocritically, attacks the man he suspects of having an affair with his wife.

Cliff has another romp with Giselle, the nanny, in his trailer. He calls his wife: “I don’t know what happened to us. I’m going to be better. I know it’s late. I don’t even know if you care how sorry I am.”

Cliff goes to his wife’s parents’ house to retrieve her and his daughter.

I’m getting a really bad feeling about what’s going to happen.

A distracted Cliff drives into a semi-truck. Kate and Clara die in the crash. Cliff was the only survivor.

Wow, the show writers managed to make Cliff’s origin even more tragic than it was in the comics.

Mister Nobody informs us “The years pass and it’s all so depressing that I just can’t.”

In 2002, Larry paints a canvas of racing cars for Cliff. Larry is so sweet!

Cliff spends a decade working on a town/race car model track.

It’s 2019 and we hear a female voice yelling “I’m back”.

Rita: “Oh, goody.” Rita is clearly not a fan.

Robotman: “Who?”

Cliff’s been in the house since 1988 and he hasn’t met Jane yet? How old is she supposed to be?

“Meet Jane. Some people call her Crazy Jane. Sixty-four personas each with their own special power.”

Jane is going to be fun. The Rita and Jane dynamic should be a blast.

After a rocky start, Cliff and Jane bond. Cliff was protective of Jane in the Vertigo series too.

We meet several of Jane’s personalities in the episode:

1)      Jane

2)      Sylvia

3)      Hammerhead

4)      Hangman’s Daughter

5)      The unnamed energy being

The Chief decides to resume his occasional travels in the world. The gang’s heard the spiel so much they say it with him.

The gang decides to head into town. When dad’s away, the kids will play.

Rita nervously enters a diner. She meets a fan.

Jane and Cliff head to a toy store to buy a present for his daughter’s birthday. Cliff and Jane bonds over his pre-death stupidity.

Larry finally leaves the bus and enters a bar.

Rita discovers it was rumored to be drunk and doing porn. An emotional Rita begins to lose control over her bodily form.

Jane urges Cliff to call his daughter. Cliff states his daughter is dead. Jane asks “According to who?” Jane claims Clara survived the crash. It’s on the internet. Jane urges Cliff to call his daughter but he destroys her phone.

It didn’t take long for the writers to start the “Chief’s a lying liar who lies” card.

We flashback to Larry, pre-transformation. Larry, a married man, was having an affair with a male member of his ground crew.

The memories trigger Larry and blue light begins to emit from his body.

Rita continues to lose control of her body, turning into a huge oozing mass that breaks through the storm and emerges on to the street.

Jane changes personalities while urging Jane to get a hold of herself.

Larry loses control and the negative energy being emerges from his body.

Rita and Larry’s respective freak-outs are causing massive damage to the town.

Cliff asks Jane: “What should we do?”

Jane responds by changing personalities and transforming into a fire/energy being.

“No! We’re not doing that!”

Cliff saves the day by stopping Rita in her tracks.

The team heads home. Niles arrives back in town as television media is reporting the day’s events.

Niles briefly sees a donkey in his rearview mirror.

Niles arrives home and he’s not happy. Niles heads to the lab and looks at photos. One has a man holding a leashed donkey. The photos appear to be from the time Morden transformed into Mister Nobody.

Niles informs the team their actions have consequences. He has enemies and they will come for the team. He wants the team packed up and ready to leave asap.

Cliff asks about the town. Niles tells him the town isn’t his concern.

“So the town get’s screwed.”

Niles yells at Jane, Cliff yells at Niles – he’s ticked about the Chief lying about his daughter’s death.

Cliff wants to stay and fight but the rest of the team votes to leave with the Chief.

The team leaves but Cliff stays to protect the town.

Jane urges the team to return and fight with Cliff. The team, except for Niles, agrees.

Rita: “I can’t promise I won’t be disgusting, but yes.”

Mister Nobody teleports aboard the bus and taunts Niles.

The donkey approaches the team and farts a message into the sky: “The mind is the limit.”

A black hole appears in the street and begins swallowing the team.

Cliff: “What the f***?”

Great first episode. Loved the soundtrack. We had “Fresh” by Kool and the Gang, “Fox On The Run” by Sweet, “Rebel Yell” by Billy Idol, and “People Are Strange” by the Doors.

Mister Nobody, visually and voiced, is more fun than he was in the comic book series.

Niles is manipulative and creepy. In many ways, he is the greatest enemy of the Doom Patrol.

Each character received their fair share of focus in the episode. We were able to see their origins and their distinct personalities.

It’s refreshing to see characters that don’t have “big damn heroes” as their default mode. Rita and Cliff weren’t the most likable people before their accidents. Larry led a secret life even before the plane crash. All three were horribly traumatized during their accidents and resulting transformations and have lived decades in fear and secrecy as “freaks”.  That combination is very hard to overcome to become heroic defenders of mankind.

An excellent debut. Highly recommended.

[whiteterrorists]

A black principal, four white teens and the ‘senior prank’ that became a hate crime

By Jessica Contrera July 9, 2019

The principal saw a swastika first. It was inky black, spray painted on a trash can just beside the entrance to the high school. David Burton switched off the engine of his SUV, unaware, even then, of the magnitude of what he was about to see.

This was the last day of the year for the class of 2018 at Glenelg High School. There was going to be an awards ceremony, a picnic, that end-of-a-journey feeling that always made Burton so proud of his job. But as he was on his way to work at 6:25 a.m., the assistant principal had called, agitated and yelling about graffiti. “It’s everywhere,” he kept saying, so Burton had leaned on the gas and rushed the last few miles.

Soon, everyone would be telling him how shocked they were. This was Howard County, after all: a Maryland suburb between Washington and Baltimore that is extremely diverse, extremely well-educated and home to Columbia, a planned community founded on the principles of integration and inclusion. People moved their families here for that reputation just as much as for the good schools.

“Pleasantville,” Burton liked to call it, but as a black man, and as the principal of the county’s only majority-white school, he knew this place was more complicated. When he stepped out into the bright spring day, he confronted the reality of just how much more.

Beneath his dress shoes, there were more swastikas. Spray painted around them were crude drawings of penises.

Then Burton saw the letters “KKK.” He saw the word “Fuck” again and again next to the words “Jews,” “Fags,” “Nigs” and “Burton.”

He kept walking, following the graffiti around the building’s perimeter. It was on the sidewalks, the trash cans, the loading dock, the stadium around back. There were more than 100 markings in total, though he didn’t bother to count.

He turned a corner and saw something written in large capital letters on the sidewalk: “BURTON IS A NIGGER.”

He paused only for a moment, looking at the words, trying to comprehend that all of this was real.

Later, school district officials, county administrators and prosecutors would have a name for what happened here. They would repeat it, condemn it and vow to prevent it from occurring again. Hate crime.

The phrase has become inescapable as hate-fueled incidents have spiked across the country. A quarter of all hate crimes reported to the FBI, more than any other category, are similar to the attack discovered at Glenelg on May 24, 2018. Vandalism and destruction of property, a physical marking of an age-old threat: You don’t belong here.

The majority are repaired, washed away or painted over without anyone arrested. When the perpetrators are caught, they are rarely charged with a hate crime. Here, there would be consequences, and with them, a division between those who wanted to confront the racism in their midst and those determined to explain it away.

But first, Burton, 50 years old and dressed in one of his best black suits, would walk back over the graffiti, retreat into his office, close the door and pray.

His staff scrambled to cover the spray paint with tarps, carpet pads, anything they could find. The maintenance team searched for a sandblaster. But there was too much to cover and too little time before the students and parents began arriving. The seniors were wearing red caps and gowns, ready for their awards ceremony. Everyone was directed to alternative entrances, away from the worst of the damage. But photos of the graffiti were already being texted, emailed and Snapchatted.

In the auditorium, Imani Nokuri looked for her family, who had come to see her perform the national anthem. She was one of fewer than 20 black students in the class of more than 260 seniors. She and her younger sister, a freshman at Glenelg, had been rapid-fire texting all morning, comforting each other. But when Imani saw the look of deep concern her grandmother gave her, she forced a smile onto her face. “It’s okay,” she promised. “I’m fine.”

In the central office, teachers who had led diversity and empathy training for students were crying. Police were arriving, asking to see security footage. Phones were ringing with calls from reporters. Photos of the damage were about to be broadcast on TV, making their way into homes across the region.

In one of those homes, 72-year-old Susan Sands-Joseph was watching. She knew Glenelg well. She was one of the first black students to attend the school after desegregation. Suddenly, all the memories that she tried not to dwell on were dredged up again: the words she was called, the tomatoes thrown at her head, the looks her parents gave her when she came home saying scalding hot soup had been pushed into her lap again. “It’s okay,” she had promised them. “I’m fine.”

By the time the awards ceremony was about to begin, Principal Burton had rewritten the speech he had been planning to give. “We are not going to let this ruin your celebration,” he would now tell students.

He emerged from his office with notes clutched in his hand and stopped to check in with the police. The security footage, they told Burton, confirmed what he had suspected.

The principal entered the auditorium to a burst of applause. He stepped up to the podium. He stood before his students, looked out into their faces and felt certain: The people who did this were looking back at him.

Seth Taylor tipped his head down so his graduation cap would block his view of the podium. It felt, he said later, like the principal was staring right at him. But he and the others hadhidden their faces behind masks the night before, Seth reminded himself. How could anyone know they were the ones who had done it?All morning, he had been replaying the vandalism in his mind. He’d been at his buddy Matt Lipp’s house, where the parents of all their friends had gathered the evening of May 23 to sort out the details of Senior Week. The teens’ parents had rented them a house in Ocean City, the annual destination for thousands of local students celebrating graduation, and were divvying up tasks: who would drive the group to the beach, who would stock their fridge, who would cook them dinners before leaving them for a week of beer pong, sunburns and meetups with houses full of girls.Afterward, Seth stayed to watch a Washington Capitals playoff game. He loved these kinds of nights and, really, everything about high school. Cheering crowds at his football and baseball games, late-night Xbox sessions, fishing trips, parties in their parents’ basements. He could do without the academic part — he was a B student, at best — but he was planning to join the Army Reserve and maybe go to community college.With him at Matt’s was Josh Shaffer, a hockey player he’d been friends with since seventh grade, and Tyler Curtiss, the baseball team captain who had been homecoming king and prom king.Matt and Josh declined interview requests, but Seth and Tyler agreed to talk to The Washington Post about the vandalism. When they tell the story of that evening, they start with the end of the Caps game, when everyone but Seth was deep into a supply of Bud Light, and the conversation turned, once again, to their senior prank.

Seth Taylor

Tyler Curtiss

Tyler wanted to superglue locks. Seth suggested they grease up three pigs and release them into the school.

Or, somebody said, they could go spray paint the words “Class of 2018.”

Within minutes, they were driving to the school with spray paint from Matt’s parents’ garage. They parked at the church next door, tied T-shirts into masks over their faces and sprinted through the woods.

A shake of the can, the smell of fumes. The words went down easily, just as they had planned: “Class of 2018,” they wrote across the sidewalk.

And then Seth watched as Josh wrote something else: “BURTON IS A” it began.

Later, this was the moment he agonized over — the point at which he could have turned back. “I wish I said something, like, ‘This is stupid, guys. It’s not worth it. We could actually get in trouble for this.’”

Why he didn’t, he would always struggle to explain: “I don’t know. Everyone was doing it. We didn’t realize the consequences.”

“It was just spray paint. It just happened. It is all a blur.”

The blur went on for about seven minutes, during which all of them sprayed something hateful. Josh targeted the principal. Matt attacked Jewish, gay and black people. Tyler drew two swastikas. Seth drew swastikas, “fags” and “KKK.”

When a car drove by, they leaped behind the brick columns near the front entrance, hiding. A moment later, they started spraying again.

Finally, they ran back to their cars. They chucked their paint cans in the woods. They swore to each other that they would never admit what they did.

Seth came home to a quiet house. His sister was away at college, his father was on a business trip, and his mother was asleep. He went to the fridge and found the breakfast she had made for him to eat the next morning. Seth popped the eggs into the microwave. When he went to grab them, the plate slipped. The hot eggs tumbled onto his arms and legs. The shock somehow made it hit him. What had he just done?

Panicked, he started Googling:

“How long do you go to jail for vandalism?”

And then: “Can you get a hate crime for painting swastikas?”

Now he was sitting in the Glenelg auditorium, thinking about what he’d told his mom. Early that morning, she’d received an email from the school informing parents about the graffiti. Horrified, she texted Seth, warning him what he would find when he arrived at the awards ceremony.

“Who would do that?” he had texted back.

And in a sense, he meant it. He had already begun to separate what he’d done from who he believed himself to be. He hadn’t intended to hurt anyone, he said. He would always maintain he wasn’t an anti-Semite, a homophobe or a racist.

From the podium a voice said: “Tyler Curtiss.”

Seth looked up. His friend was walking toward the stage. But Tyler wasn’t getting in trouble. He was accepting an athletic leadership award. He was walking across the stage and shaking the principal’s hand.

Seth felt a tap on his shoulder. The athletic director was standing over him. “Seth,” he said quietly. “You need to come with me.”

Seth followed him out, trying not to look at his classmates. On the other side of the auditorium doors, two police officers were waiting to take him to the office of the school resource officer, Steve Willingham.

On the TV screen inside was security footage from the night before. Seth could see his own stout frame, paint can in hand, frozen in high definition.

“I bet you don’t want to see that, do you?” he remembers Willingham saying.

“No,” Seth answered.

“Do you know why you’re in here?”

“Yes,” Seth said. He didn’t know then that the officers had been strategic in pulling him out first. Willingham had coached Seth’s sister in soccer. He was friends with Seth’s dad. He suspected that of all the boys, Seth was the most likely to confess.

It took only one question: “What happened?”

“Things got out of hand,” Seth recalls telling him. “I was under the impression we were going to do a prank, and it got bad.”

He started to cry. He would be the only one who immediately admitted what they did. The others, court records show, would deny it. Tyler wished Willingham good luck in finding out who did it.

Eventually they were told: The school’s WiFi system requires students to use individual IDs to get online. After they log in once, their phones automatically connect whenever they are on campus.

At 11:35 p.m. on May 23, the students’ IDs began auto-connecting to the WiFi. It took only a few clicks to find out exactly who was beneath those T-shirt masks.

“You have the right to remain silent,” an officer said to Seth before long. “Anything you say or do . . . ”

They told him to remove his graduation cap and gown. They cuffed his arms behind his back.

Seth realized they were about to march him outside, past the windows of the cafeteria. By now it would be filled with students eating lunch.

“Can you cover my face so that the kids don’t videotape me?” he asked.

“No,” an officer replied. “You deserve this.”

By the end of the day, charges had been filed. Not just vandalism and destruction of property, but a hate crime. Prosecutors believed the young men had committed their acts with animosity toward protected groups — and that they could prove it. In Maryland, that meant that the punishment could be intensified. It meant they were looking at up to six years of incarceration.

Before they were released from jail that night, the four students watched on a small TV screen outside their holding cell while their crime was broadcast on the local news — as it would be over and over in the coming days. Viewers saw four white teens, scowling at the camera, and the school system’s superintendent vowing at a news conference to hold them accountable.

“Howard County stands out as a place where diversity and acceptance are cherished,” Michael Martirano said. It sounded like something any superintendent would say. But here, many knew, it came with a story: one taught to children in school, bragged about to visitors and proclaimed on signs.

In the early 1960s, before the Fair Housing Act and the legalization of interracial marriage in Maryland, a white developer named James Rouse began purchasing huge swaths of Howard County farmland to build a planned community named Columbia.

He envisioned it as a mixed-race, mixed-income utopia. “The next America,” he called it, and although racial tensions could never be completely erased, to many people, that is what it became. Today, the suburb — home to a third of the county’s 300,000 residents — is renowned for its ethnic diversity, interracial marriages, interfaith centers and high-achieving schools. It appears frequently on national “Best Places to Live” lists.

Most are unaware of the history that came before Columbia. The farmland Rouse purchased included former slave-holding plantations. An estimated 2,800 people were enslaved in the county at the beginning of the Civil War. A century later, when the Supreme Court ruled in Brown v. Board of Education in 1954 that schools must be desegregated, Howard County was so resistant that it took more than a decade for the black-only school, Harriet Tubman, to close its doors. The opposition to black students learning alongside white ones was so fierce, a cross was burned. It happened outside a school dance at Glenelg High School.

Glenelg is in western Howard, the most rural part of the county, then and now. While the rest of Howard’s high schools have no racial majority, 76 percent of Glenelg students are white.

On the news that night, though, only students of color were interviewed.

“It’s just a small number of students who decide to make these decisions that negatively impact the image of our school,” one said.

“This is not representative of what Glenelg stands for,” said another.

That week, after Seth, Tyler, Matt and Josh were released from jail without having to pay bail, their classmates began to argue over whether those statements were true.

Tyler Hebron, a senior who was president of the school’s black student union, typed her feelings into an Instagram post. “It shouldn’t have taken this event to occur for us to observe the hateful actions of our peers,” she remembers writing. “We shouldn’t say we are surprised. We are not.”

During her freshman year, a student flew a Confederate flag at a football game. Swastikas were scratched into the bathroom stalls. In 2017, someone had written the n-word and Principal Burton’s name on a baseball dugout. She had heard boys play a game to see who could yell the n-word the loudest. To her, this crime was just high-profile proof of the hostility she had always felt.

Soon, comments started appearing beneath her Instagram post.

“You’re racist,” one said. “All you do is blame straight white males.”

The night before graduation, she found herself thinking about whether she should pack pepper spray in her purse. She wasn’t sure, she told her parents, that she felt safe.

Among black families like hers, there were doubts that the white teens would face the kind of punishment black teens receive for similar crimes. Two years earlier, a group of students had painted swastikas on a historic black schoolhouse in Northern Virginia. A Loudoun County judge sentenced them not to jail time or community service, but to reading: along with visiting the Holocaust museum, each had to choose a single book about Nazi Germany or the Jim Crow era and write a report on it.

Two black families came to Burton and told him they were pulling their kids out of Glenelg before the next school year. The principal tried to persuade them not to go.

But in his own house, his wife, Katrina, was wondering if he should leave, too.

They had two daughters to think about, an eighth-grader and a senior at another Howard County high school, who on the day of the hate crime had come home and collapsed in her mother’s arms, sobbing. Katrina knew about the parents who warned Burton not to talk about the incident in his speech at the graduation ceremony, and watched as some of them refused to stand and clap for him that day.

“Are you safe?” she kept asking her husband.

There had been so many incidents in his life that had made Burton question just that. When he was 16, and the parents of a white friend in his Michigan hometown called him the n-word. In college, when he and his fraternity brothers were pulled over and questioned by a group of white cops seemingly for no reason. At a convenience store in South Carolina just a few years ago, when a hostile clerk refused to serve him and his family.

But inside a school, he was an authority figure, the man in charge. For most of his career, he’d led schools in Prince George’s and Howard counties filled with students of color.

And then to his surprise, he was asked in 2016 to leave Howard County’s Long Reach High School, where a third of the students are black, and take over at Glenelg, where less than 5 percent are black. Here, he suspected, it would take time to win over the community.

He started standing in the halls every morning and every class break, looking students in the eye as he said hello. He attended as many games and plays and art shows as he could. He made sure the swastikas scratched in the bathroom were documented and investigated, but quietly, to avoid giving those who drew them the attention they were seeking.

After two years, he felt that he had earned the respect of this place, and these people. They welcomed him when he arrived at the annual end-of-the-year celebration for the senior class at an Ellicott City resort. Parents gave him hugs and thanked him for what he had done for their kids.

That night, he learned that one senior had been caught trying to order alcohol at the bar. The student was kicked out of the event, but the next day, Burton decided he didn’t want to be overly harsh in his punishment.

“Even though you did this, I am going to allow you to go to the school picnic,” he told the teen.

Less than a week later, it was the same student, Josh Shaffer, who would scrawl Burton’s name and the n-word onto the sidewalk.

“The person you married is not about to cower,” the principal told his wife. He wouldn’t be leaving Glenelg.

He could use the summer, he thought, to plan what he was going to do the following school year, the message he needed to send.

And if the prosecutors sought his help in holding his students accountable, he knew what his answer would be.

Every time Seth walked from the parking lot of the Howard County Circuit Court to its entrance, he passed a small, decaying building with barred windows and a slanted roof. He rushed by with his head down, passing a plaque that explained the structure's history. Here, slaves who'd tried to run to freedom were held before being returned to the people who owned them.

In late March, Seth entered the courthouse dressed in one of his father’s suits, accompanied by his parents. It was his final appearance in front of the judge overseeing all four Glenelg cases: William V. Tucker, a black man with a reputation for his interest in the way the criminal justice system handles young people.

One by one, they had come before him and pleaded guilty, or been found guilty after agreeing to a statement of facts.

Two of them had tried to have the hate-crime charges dismissed. Their attorneys claimed that their First Amendment rights were being violated. They could be punished for the vandalism, the argument went, but not for what they wrote.

It didn’t work.

Now, it was Tucker’s job to answer a question the community had been debating for nearly a year: What consequences did these young men, now 19, deserve?

They hadn’t been allowed to walk at graduation. Their post-high-school plans had been derailed, and they were working in landscaping, asbestos removal and, in Seth’s case, office furniture construction. Their names and mug shots were seared into Howard County’s memory and the Internet’s search results. It was up to Tucker to decide whether, on top of that, they should spend time in jail.

His view became clear when Joshua Shaffer was the first to be sentenced on March 8, 2019. Seth stayed home and kept refreshing his Internet browser, waiting for news. Finally, the local TV station published a video: Josh was being walked out of the courthouse in cuffs. He had been sentenced to three years of probation, 250 hours of community service and 18 consecutive weekends in Howard County Jail.

Seth’s parents called his attorney, Debra Saltz, in a panic. His case was different, she reminded them. He was different. They just had to persuade the judge to see that.

Saltz stood in court that March morning and pointed to her client.

“Your honor, I truly believe justice and mercy call on us to consider who he is,” she said. “And I believe it requires the court to consider what has happened in his life, what he has done since May 24.”

Seth, she explained, had been working to make amends. He’d completed 181 hours of community service. He’d written an apology letter to Principal Burton. He’d visited the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington and volunteered at the Jewish Museum of Maryland. He’d spent time with an African American pastor and attended regular diversity training with an African American counselor.

He did it all with the support of his parents, who had spent the year agonizing over how their son could have done something so heinous. Seth’s father, Scott Taylor, stood to tell the judge he blamed himself.

“The letters ‘KKK’ were painted on the school. Seth didn’t understand the pain, suffering and terror associated with those letters, because I never told him,” the father said. “I never told him how the Klan used to collect money after church in my neighborhood when I was growing up in the South, and how they would stand in the road like the fire department.”

“I’ve come to realize I did fail,” he continued. “It’s not what I said in my home; it’s what I didn’t say.”

When it was Seth’s turn to speak, he assured his parents that it was not their fault.

“You taught me better,” he said. “This isn’t who you raised.”

He apologized to the principal and to the communities he hurt.

“It was the worst decision I have ever made in my entire life. What I did there keeps me up at night. I deserve whatever punishment I get,” he said. “I have worked hard since that day to show my family, my school, my community and Principal Burton how sorry I am.”

Seth said he just wanted all of them to understand: He is not a racist.

Later, he would explain himself this way: “I never really understood the symbol of the swastika. I knew it was wrong to plaster it somewhere. I didn’t learn exactly what [the Nazis] were doing to the Jews until I went to the Holocaust Museum. I never learned that they were mutilated. I knew that they were, like, burned. But I never learned that they had experiments done on them, were injected with diseases. The school didn’t include that. They just included the burning and the train cars.”

His understanding of the KKK was limited, too, he said. “Some people think it’s just a word, or a symbol or three letters put together. . . . But they were lynching people, hurting people for no good reason.”

Now, he said, he knows. But he still doesn’t believe his actions that night make him a bigot.

“I spray paint one racist thing and, suddenly, I become a racist? Just because I did it doesn’t mean I hate Jews, gay people or black people.”

He was standing before the judge, pleading guilty to a hate crime, but he would not admit that he harbored any hate.

All around him, the adults agreed.

“He will forever be known as the racist kid at Glenelg, but that’s not who Seth is,” his father said in court that day.

“I told him that his act was racist, but don’t let it define him as a racist. He can and I pray that he will go on and do better,” Maxwell Ware, the African American pastor he met with, wrote in a letter supporting him.

“He is not a racist . . . he has a good heart,” his attorney told the judge.

Behind her, Principal Burton was listening. He’d heard Joshua Shaffer’s attorney give a similar speech. When Matthew Lipp was sentenced, he would hear it then too. Tyler Curtiss had written it in a Facebook apology the day after the crime. Tyler, Burton knew, had turned to Jesus, joining a church where he talked openly about the swastikas he painted that night. He had spent months telling his story to Jewish congregations, interfaith groups and the county’s board of rabbis. Come the day of his sentencing, Tyler would say: “I hold no hatred toward any human being, especially those in the communities that were affected.”

They all believed it was possible to do what they did without really meaning it.

Burton wanted to look them in the eye and say: “You did something very racist. How you don’t think you’re a racist, I don’t know.”

What he did know was what they’d been taught in school: Glenelg covered the Holocaust and the Klan in detail, in U.S. history and American government and world history and in the books they read for language arts.

He believed what possessed them to draw those words and symbols that night wasn’t a lack of knowledge, but something deeper, something ugly, something taught to them, consciously or unconsciously, along the way. If they couldn’t admit that now, maybe they never would. But it wasn’t his responsibility to educate them any more.

When it was Burton’s turn to speak at Seth’s sentencing, he didn’t say the word “racism.” He talked about all the people the crime had affected — the teachers crying in his office, the parents who pulled their kids out of his school, his daughter in tears, and for just a few moments, himself: “I know I give up my time, my effort, I give up my life for my students,” he said. “I think the only thing I am asking in return is just a little bit of respect.”

The courtroom waited in silence for Judge Tucker to reach his decision. Seth kept his gaze on the table. His father rubbed his mother’s back.

“I appreciate the fact that you are now trying to show that you are not a racist, that you committed a racist act,” Tucker finally told Seth. “But part of what I need to do is punish you. So the sentence is going to be as follows.”

Three years probation. Two hundred fifty hours in community service. And nine consecutive weekends in jail.

“A normal weekend incarceration is Friday 6 p.m. to Sunday 6 p.m.,” Tucker said. It was a Thursday. “For this weekend, it begins today.”

A black sheriff’s deputy stepped behind Seth and pulled out her handcuffs. His mother began to cry.

“Alright, Mr. Taylor, good luck to you,” the judge said, and the metal closed around Seth’s wrists.

Six weeks later, Seth backed his car out of his parents' driveway, headed to his final weekend in jail.

Good behavior during his weekends locked up meant he had to serve only two-thirds of them.

The following weekend, Tyler Curtiss, who had painted two swastikas, would finish his weekends, five in all.

Matt Lipp, whose graffiti attacked Jewish, black and gay people, would serve 11 of the 16 he was sentenced to. He has filed an appeal, still arguing that his First Amendment rights had been violated.

Josh Shaffer, who targeted the principal, was sentenced to the most jail time: 18 weekends. He would serve 12.

All four will be eligible to get the hate crimes expunged from their record when their probation is finished.

Together they had figured out how to navigate their 48-hour stints locked up: how to make the time pass, how to hide their toilet paper so it wouldn’t be stolen, what to do when the other inmates threw dominoes at their heads.

Seth didn’t know the names of the people who gave them trouble, but he had nicknames he made up for them. “String Bean,” for the tall, lanky one. “Pistachio” for the one with the mustache.“

Two black kids who just do not like us,” he called them.

Now he drove past the high school, yawning as he turned toward the highway. He’d been up late the night before, playing Mortal Kombat with strangers on his Xbox. He felt comfortable there, behind the anonymity of his username. He didn’t feel that way anywhere in Howard County. He grew nervous anytime he saw a person of color, wondering if they recognized him and knew what he had done.

He didn’t think anyone would recognize him come Monday, when he was going to start a new job in a heating and cooling apprenticeship program an hour away. It was going to pay $14 an hour. If he liked it, he might get his HVAC license. And then in three years when his probation was over, he thought he might move to Florida. Do some fishing. Start over.

He pulled into the jail parking lot 20 minutes early, switched off his engine and pulled out his phone. He turned on Kodak Black, who started rapping about “nigga s---.”

A truck pulled up beside him and Seth rolled down his passenger window.

“Hey,” he called to Josh. The two were the only ones in the group who had stayed close friends. During the week, they went to the gym together late at night, when they wouldn’t see other people.

“You ready to play three hours of checkers?” Josh asked.

“I’m finding a book, man,” Seth said. “I can’t play Uno again. I’m never playing Uno again in my life as soon as I leave this jail.”

Josh pulled out a can of tobacco dip. Seth took a hit from his strawberry-flavored Juul. They sat there until Josh said, “You ready?” and then Seth followed him inside.

The principal steered into the high school lot a month later and parked in the same spot he had a year before. He stepped out of his SUV in one of his best black suits. It was the last day of school for the class of 2019.

Once again, there was going to be an awards ceremony and a picnic, but this year, there was no graffiti waiting for him.

In the weeks since his former students were sent to jail, he and his wife had been asked again and again what they thought of the punishment. People were outraged — either that the young men had received a “slap on the wrist” or that they had been so persecuted. Burton wouldn’t take a side. “To me, it felt like a crime,” he said. “But what happens because of that crime is not up to me to figure out.”

He had to focus on his 1,200 current students: the LGBTQ kids who still felt isolated. The Jewish girl who told the local paper she still wishes she could transfer. Whoever was still scrawling swastikas on the bathroom stalls.

In the past year, he’d created a task force of diverse students to work on the school’s climate. Soon every freshman would go through an empathy workshop. And nearly 40 of his employees had spent the year meeting to discuss the book “Waking Up White,” a memoir of a white woman who comes to understand that racism is a system that she had been shaped by and contributed to her entire life without even realizing it. Maybe, he thought, that lesson would get passed on to Glenelg’s students.

But on this morning, his job was to celebrate his seniors. He stood outside as they arrived in their red caps and gowns. Their parents and grandparents followed behind, cameras in hand.

Then he saw it: this year’s version of a senior prank. A tractor was pulling into the parking lot. On the front was an old couch bolted to the forklift, a sign that read “2019,” and a few students sprawled on the cushions. On the back was a blue flag. “TRUMP,” it read, “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.”

The assistant principal set off after them, and Burton decided to let him handle it. Instead he made his way to the auditorium. He stepped up to the podium, looking out at his students’ faces. Then their names were called, and they came on stage to shake his hand.

[prettylittlesestras]

they all say that nothing ever changes

“Cannonball!”

The Bellas, who had all been sitting around the pool with their legs in the water, scramble (unsuccessfully) to get out of the way as the splash from Fat Amy’s cannonball drenches them all. Since they’re now soaking wet, they all descend into the pool. Chloe and Stacie claim two of the floats, and Jessica and Ashley grab onto some pool noodles to keep themselves afloat. Beca sits on the steps of the pool and looks out over the pool full of the people she loves the most. Her relationship with her parents had been strained for a long time for different reasons, but with the Bellas, she finally felt like she had found her true family. With them, she was home. She felt a tightness in her chest as she thought about this being their last hoorah before senior year, and that they very well might go their separate ways after graduation in the spring.

She can feel herself fading away from reality, slipping into a headspace of negativity; one that once she enters, it’s hard to pull herself away from. She’s worries about losing the Bellas. She’s never been too big on change, and now to lose the people she values the most, it feels like a kick to the stomach. She also worries about losing Chloe. Chloe is her best friend, and out of all of the Bellas, Chloe’s certainly the person she likes the most. Maybe even loves. Beca dives into the pool, letting the cold water clear her mind and help her refocus on how happy she is to be here with the Bellas. They had come to Jessica’s parents lake house to bond and spend time quality time together before their last year started. Beca tells herself that this is not the time or place to worry about losing her friends or some stupid, unrequited love.

As her head emerges from the water, she hears her friends laughing, and she can’t help but smile and let out a small laugh even though she doesn’t know exactly what it is the other girls are laughing about. Beca swims over to Chloe and Stacie and grabs onto Chloe’s float to keep herself above the water.

“Can you guys believe we start class next week?” Flo asks while splayed out on a unicorn-shaped pool float.

“No way. Organic Chemistry almost kicked my ass last semester, and now I get to tackle Cellular and Molecular Biology. I’ll be looking forward to Bellas cardio workouts just to give my brain a break,” Stacie says while rolling her eyes.

“Yeah no, don’t put me down for cardio,” Fat Amy says without cracking a smile, just as serious as she said it during their freshman year.

Chloe grins and shakes her head as she moves her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose to make eye contact with Amy. “Well, maybe we can find some new Bellas this year who actually take my cardio days seriously.”

Beca cringes. “Ew don’t remind me. Weeding through all the auditions of potential new members is the worst way to kick off senior year. We win a couple national championships and everyone wants to be an a capella singer.” She grimaces as she thinks back on last year’s horrible audition day; they had listened to 58 versions of the same song and disliked them all. They didn’t add a single new Bella to the group.

“I’d rather suffer through three hundred terrible auditions than have the problem that Aubrey and I had the year after she blew chunks all over the first three rows of the crowd at Lincoln center,” Chloe laughs.

“Hey! We all joined that year and we’re the ones who won all those national championships,” Cynthia Rose shouts from across the pool. She tries to sound offended, but the smile on her face says something different.

“Well, we weren’t always the Bellas we are today. We started out as a rag-tag group of strangers, and look at us now. Once we found our sound we were unstoppable,” Chloe says with a huge grin taking over her face, pride seemingly seeping from her pores. If there’s one thing Chloe loves, it’s the Bellas.

A silence sweeps over the girls, and it’s obvious that they’re all having fond flashbacks of the past three years. Beca feels a slight sense of disappointment in herself for dreading the auditions. She thinks that if she wants to savor these last few months with the Bellas, she needs to savor the experience in its entirety, not just the high notes.

They lay in and around the pool, sunbathing in a comfortable quietness until someone suggests riding the jet skis out on the lake. They race down to the edge of the water where the jet skis are tied to a long fishing dock, and they begin their trip around the large lake. They travel through inlets and coves and spot an alligator in a part of the lake that they vow to never revisit (except for Lily who says something about alligator wrestling, but they try to ignore it for everyone’s sake).

The Bellas bank the jet skis on a small beach with a large, flat rock. It’s “the perfect location to get a tan” according to Stacie, so they stop and relax on the big rock. Beca is beyond happy to be off the water; she was lost in thought for most of the ride, and her life still managed to flash before her eyes one too many times while on the back of Amy’s jet ski. At this point, she’d rather ride with anyone (even gator-wrestling Lily) than with Amy.

Ashley, Jessica, and Cynthia Rose skip rocks on the lake while Beca, Chloe, Stacie, and Flo lay out to get a tan. Amy and Lily go missing for a few minutes, but then the girls see them off in the distance having a water gun fight with the water guns that Lily seemed to produce out of thin air.

After about an hour, the girls begin to complain about being hungry, so most of the Bellas start heading down to the lake to return to the edge of the water. Chloe gets up and starts heading down to the beach when she sees Beca still sitting on the ground and looking out over the lake.

“You guys go ahead,” She half-whispers to Stacie, “Just leave us one of the jet skis and we’ll be back in a little while.”

Stacie agrees without saying a word, knowing something had been wrong with Beca all day. Chloe walks back over to Beca and plops down beside her, leaning her head on Beca’s shoulder. They sit in silence for a while, Chloe knowing that Beca would speak when she was ready and not a moment before.

After about ten minutes, they both lay back and look up at the sky. Chloe scoots closer to Beca so that their arms are slightly touching, wanting her to know that she was there and wasn’t going anywhere for as long as her friend needed her. Finally Beca spoke, “So what happens when this is all over? We’re all just going to graduate in nine months and go our separate ways and never see each other again? I don’t know if I can deal with losing the first real family I’ve ever had,” She said, speaking quickly, as if she might never say them if she didn’t get the words out as soon as possible.

Chloe turns over to face Beca and rests her hand on Beca’s arm. “Of course that’s not what happens. First of all, you said it yourself; we’re family. Just because we’re graduating doesn’t mean we don’t love each other and we won’t still be one big family. Even if we aren’t all in the same place, there’s no way that will just go away.”

Feeling slightly reassured and unaware of how close their faces are, Beca turns to face Chloe, and their lips accidentally brush together. Their lips touch by accident, but neither girl breaks the contact. For a split second, Beca contemplates turning away and apologizing, not wanting to ruin her friendship with Chloe over an accidental kiss. She hasn’t been able to work up the courage to kiss Chloe for three years, and she can’t believe it’s about to happen by some strange accident. Beca has always thought that kissing Chloe, or telling her how she feels, or being with her isn’t worth losing her over if she doesn’t feel the same way. But Chloe hasn’t moved away yet, so Beca doesn’t either. They aren’t sure who kissed who, but their lips crash together and move in harmony, like one of the songs Beca produces so well. Neither girl pulls away until they’re both breaking away and gasping for air.

Chloe pushes her sunglasses to rest on top of her head and cups Beca’s face with her hand, guiding her face so that Beca’s eyes lock with her own. “And second of all, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t ever want to be somewhere you’re not.”

Beca smiles and buries her face in Chloe’s chest, not saying anything for a few moments until she mutters a quiet, “me either”. They lay there, Chloe on her back and Beca’s head on Chloe’s chest for a long while until the sun starts to reach the horizon. They get up wordlessly and head for the jet ski. Beca jumps on behind Chloe, and they set off towards the lake house. Beca squeezes Chloe a little tighter and smiles a little bigger during the ride home, feeling more at ease than she has in months.

[hollow0rld]

The Drunk Elf who did a Thing™

A short story that was suggested and that I should have shared long ago

It was supposed to be a simple job. Hired to get in, do her work, and leave. Go unnoticed, disguised amongst the crowd, and if anyone did see her, well, it could just mean a little extra work in the future. After all, the most important thing in life was getting paid, only second to getting paid a lot. But the latter was harder to obtain, so she had to settle with whatever job she could find, which lead to her current situation.

She wasn’t sure how long a bard could hold her breath that many miles deep in the ocean

It all had begun the previous evening, sitting in the middle of the town center, watching people pass by as she earned her daily copper by playing any requested tune in her trusty old lute. It was fun, it was relaxing, and the fact there were more visitors in the small town than usual meant a much better meal at her inn than what she had been getting the whole week. She wasn’t sure why that many people were hanging out there, and she didn’t really care either, as she planned to leave during the weekend for the next town in the map.

Just when she thought there should be enough money for a stew, she heard it. Music as she had never listened before, sounds that she would have otherwise never even considered possible, a melody that captivated her and everyone around her. Standing from her seat, and quickly climbing over the statue she had been sitting next to the whole day, she spotted the parade not too far away, emerging from the forest and with a clear path to the docks. People clapped, sung and laughed to the rhythm, just as she was tempted to join them, raising her instrument and doing her best to copy the music as the ensemble approached, the crowd surrounding her moving aside to let them pass. Only when they were close enough did she see who they were: a curious mix of merpeople and land inhabitants, some carrying instruments she was familiar with, most holding items clearly sea themed, the source of the sounds she couldn’t identify.

And the group kept moving forward, closer and closer to the beach, and yet they didn’t seem to be getting any further away from her. Only when her feet touched the cold water did she realize that she had followed along the procession, accompanying the music with her own instrument until whatever enchantment the notes had broke and she realized what she had been doing. The sound was starting to fade, as she stared at the people vanishing under the water, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to follow the rest of the band?... Ah, I see, they didn’t finish casting the water breathing spell on you. Gods, I hope you are the only one, this is going to be very, very bad publicity for us if a corpse ends up floating to the shore in the morning... Hmm, the sigil should go like this... and... There we go. Come on, you are going to lose them in the seaweed jungles.”

Before she even had the chance to notice who or what had talked to her, still in the midst of her daze, the figure jumped into the water after shoving something into her hands. Blinking back into reality, she looked down to see... Pearls. Pearls as big as her eyes, round, perfect and shining against the moonlight. More money in a single round sphere than what she could make in a whole year travelling and playing her music.

The next thing she knew, she was running into the water, then swimming, then diving until she saw again the end of the parade, the promise of more riches in her mind as she resumed playing tirelessly through the dark depths, guided only by the sound coming from in front of her.

Caethia wasn’t just the capital of the Cohrian Kingdom, it was the kingdom itself. Every citizen of the kingdom owned a house in Caethia, and from the farthest reaches of the sea they would go for the Equinox celebrations. Why or how they celebrated this means little to this story, though. The only important detail is that artists from the surface would also be invited, returning with treasures from the depths to their own homes and the memories of the gathering.

It was early morning when she arrived. The city built in coral reefs, close enough to the surface to receive the sun rays, yet deep enough to not be subjected to the constant movement of the waves or passing ships. The light from above dimmed as they went deeper and deeper, but others would replace it, through magical means allowing the visitors to explore and go around the strange landscape, whilst the natives would prepare for the evening festivity. She visited every stall and open house, did her best to talk with the merpeople who didn’t know Common, tried new dishes and clothes to amuse herself, and danced, and danced, and danced until the sun sunk into the horizon. Not like she or anyone else there could see that, but the city turning darker was a sure sign of night approaching.

But as the rest of visitors and locals were getting ready, she... was a little lost. It was easy to take the wrong turn, specially considering she was alone and new to the place, and some parts would look the same no matter in which direction she swam. Was she upside down? It was hard to tell, and in hindsight, spending so much time with that nice couple and their ridiculously good snail ale could have only worsened her current situation. Because it was good, and they had so much of it they didn’t mind parting with a few bottles, most of which she had discarded as she kept swimming.

But she was far too drunk to notice the trail behind her, so her only option was to continue going down (or up?) and further along the only path she could see, until she could no longer hear the music coming from the party. Past doors and crevices she went, somehow managing to get behind several guards without them seeing her, or her even seeing them.

And then she saw it. The biggest pearl in the world (or so her dazed mind thought), gently floating above an important looking pedestal, eyeing her reflection on it as she pondered how much she could get for it. No, she wasn’t a thief, she was but a humble musician, but anyone could dream about a better future. She could sell the ones she already got for a lot of gold, but the one in front of her... maybe she could finally replace her lute’s strings. Or better yet, she could get it plated in metal. Silver would look nice with the fancy clothes she wanted to buy as well. She could even get a house. Or a castle. With servants, and great meals every day, and she would never have to work a day in her life.

And then she touched the pearl, and it fell from its stand.

Above, in Caethia’s plaza, the music ended. The visitors had no idea what was happening, while the merpeople looked around, frightened, as the reefs lost their color, turning white before they began to crumble, small pieces first, and giant chunks of coral began falling from above just as the ground too cracked under everyone. The merpeople fled by the hundreds and then thousands from their homes, in the midst of the confusion and rage knocking aside everything in their path, searching for the source of the city’s decay, but it was too late. A long, drawn out note came from a guard’s conch in the last pillar standing, the only sign to evacuate before it also toppled onto the city. In less than an hour, and before the even celebrations began, Caethia had fallen.

She woke up with a start in the middle of the room, the last thing she remembered being a sharp pain in the back of her head before everything faded out. It took her a moment to realize she was underwater, another to calm down until she realized she was able to breathe, and yet even more time to recall the events of the previous night. She dug into her pockets to find them empty, and looking around, no sign either of the giant pearl she had knocked over before. There was no music or laughter or dancing either, and as she left the room, no life either, wandering the empty hallways for what felt like hours until she finally made it to the main streets. Or what was left of them, the coral buildings stacked on top of each other, blocking the path upwards, no matter where she went all she could see was the whiteness of the dead structures. What even had happened? She felt uneasy, a feeling in her gut telling her that somehow, just maybe, this was all her fault. But there was no one to ask, nowhere to go, and nothing to do.

She tried to not cry as she picked up her lute and began playing, the last melody ever sung in the empty Caethia. Until the spell ended, and her lungs gave up, and her fingers stopped moving.

A lonely fisherman stood on his boat, looking at the still body he had just fished out of the sea. As he was about to offer the elf his prayers, a loud cough stopped him mid sentence, hacking and spitting seawater into his boat, causing the old man to laugh as he helped the elf up and offered a skin of fresh water.

“They sure know how to party, huh?”

[tysonrunningfox]

Relationship Challenged

I just...can’t wait, guys.  The Arvelia arc is gonna happen and I’ll post it and maybe it’ll even be better when shit is going down (because it’s gonna go down)  

But.  The baby boy still does not know how to girl.  And he should probably try soon.  

Tumblr | AO3

“Why’d you let the dragon go?”  Aurelia asks, leaning against Bang’s side and wiggling her stocking feet in front of the fire.  

“What dragon?”  I pick my head up off of Bang’s back to look at her.

“The scauldron, the one that destroyed the dock.  Why did you let it go?”  She turns towards me, tucking her feet under her and leaning a still cautious elbow along Bang’s back.  “Maybe if my dad had seen it he would have finally believed us about the dragons.”  

“It’s not that he doesn’t believe us,” I scoff, staring at my hands, “it’s that he thinks it doesn’t mean anything.  It’s like he doesn’t notice that it’s a week after Snoggletog and that’s the first wild dragon I’ve seen.”  

“But if you’d kept the dragon around, maybe we could figure out what’s wrong with them or—”

“Have you seen a full grown Scauldron?”  I snap and I feel bad about it but not enough to slow down.  “They’re not small.  And if they’re panicking and don’t want to do what you want them to do, they spray boiling water at your face.”  

“Yeah, but we train dragons all the time—”

“We?”  It comes out too harsh and I sigh.  “Sorry.”

“What’s got your too short pants in a bunch?”  She looks at the inch of my ankle that’s exposed above my socks with that Aurelia brand judgement that makes me forget she’s harmless and I tug my pantlegs down.  

“Nothing.”  

“You’ve been a jerk ever since you got home—”

“The chief was late and made me deal with all this shit on my own—”

“Wait, are you actually upset that he was late or are you upset about why he was late?”  She leans in slightly like she’s interested in something between the points I’m actually making and I shrug.  

“Both—”

“You know?”  She scoots closer, distracted enough that she doesn’t flinch when Bang’s scales ripple next to her.  That or she’s getting used to Wingspark and it’s carrying over, but I’d rather her be so enchanted with what I’m saying than think about her and Arvid right now.  My face is just feeling firm in all the right places again.  

“I know what?”  

“Wait, what?”  She shakes her head, “why are you mad at why the chief was late?  What is that why?”  

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I laugh, scooting away from her because this suddenly feels a little too much like an interrogation for my taste.  “But he stopped to invite Fuse without talking to me first—”

“Oh my Gods, that’s still a problem?”  She scoffs, “you haven’t talked to her yet?” 

“No!”  I throw my arms up and my head falls back against Bang, who groans with the impact, whiny ever since I made him work this morning. “Smitelout is taking forever with the baffle and at this point it’s been so long I don’t know how I can just…go talk to her empty handed.”  

“So what did you do?”

“I just…flew off.”  I shrug, face hot with embarrassment, because it sounds cowardly even though it’s not, not really.  “I—I just want to actually make it right, I don’t want to give her any other reason to be mad at me.”  

“Right.  A reason aside from a stupid metal thing you forgot to forge.  Because that’s why she’s mad but you won’t ask her and it’s been more than a week.”

“Is that sarcasm?”  

“What do you think?”  She rolls her eyes and drums her fingers against Bang’s side before seemingly realizing what she’s doing and very daintily curling her arm back into her chest.  “You should just talk to Fuse.  And you should also open your eyes, in general—”

“If I’m missing so much, why don’t you tell me what it is?”  

“Because I don’t have proof.”  She huffs, “and I don’t want Arvid’s head to get any bigger about it.”  

“I…” I sigh and cradle my head in my hands, “I’m just going to safely say I don’t want to know what you’re talking about—”

“I—Mom’s happy, right?” She rocks back onto her heels and stands up slowly, like she’s not sure she wants to have the conversation and I wishes she’d be a little more decisive about it.  Preferably before she tells me anything else about Arvid’s big head and I throw up.  “Or happier than she was.  Happier than I’ve known her.”  

“She’s seemed happy since Snoggletog,” I shrug a shoulder and look back at the fire, ear trained on her room in case she’s listening in.  “I think planning the feast was good for her, I—I don’t know.”  Calling her happy hurts, it makes me compare what I’ve seen of her recently to how she used to be and I don’t want to draw that parallel. It makes this feel even more permanent than it already is.  

“Yeah,” Aurelia sighs, “I’m going to go to bed.  See you tomorrow.”  

“Yeah, sure. Goodnight.”  I listen to her climb the stairs and I hear her door shut.  She doesn’t open her window, like maybe she actually has plans to stay here tonight and that, at least, makes me feel temporarily like less of a loser.  

00000

“Good morning,” Mom emerges from her bedroom long after I’ve already eaten everything in the house that was in a vaguely edible state for breakfast.  She sees the empty pots and baskets on the counter and shakes her head. “I see you were hungry.”  

“Yeah,” I shrug, “sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she laughs like she never used to when Arvid and I tore through all passable ingredients in the middle of the night.  Maybe there is something to being rich in that special chiefly way, maybe that’s why she’s not contesting it.  “Did Aurelia at least get some of it?”  

“She asked for bread but lost her appetite when I started cleaning out last night’s pan with mine, to be honest.”  

“So you are a late grower,” she scoffs, pulling the bag of flour out and getting started on another batch of bread.  I think about offering to help but that feels weirder than it used to, like now I’m almost part of a chief and if he came down to me covered in flour that would go away. “I kind of wondered about that, honestly.”  

“Because of the chief?” I try to sound angry but it doesn’t quite happen, because in my head he’s not just the guy who wasn’t there when a scauldron took a dock down, he’s also the guy who tried to teach his dad to train a Thunderdrum.  His dad, who was my grandpa, whose statue I’ve seen every day that I lived without knowing Eret the Original.  

“Because you never bit Arvid’s hand when he took food off your plate.”  She’s diverting, and I don’t mind, I like that she’s faking something, that there’s some plain I can interact with her on that’s not driven by abject, painful truth.  

“Not that you saw.”  

She laughs.  It doesn’t quite make me happy like it used to, because I’ve realized she might have been thinking of someone else making her laugh, and I try to act like I don’t notice.  

“Any reason you’re up so early?”  

“It’s not that early,” I look out the window at the sun creeping upwards, “it’s like mid-morning. The chief hasn’t even been down yet.”

“It’s early for you,” she points a clean spatula at me.  

“Maybe I’m growing up,” I get the feeling that I should just leave, that being here isn’t being helpful and I hate it.  I hate that helpful is the pivot that I’ve started to gauge myself around.  

“Not that fast.”  

“Maybe it’s my late growth spurt,” I stand up, the rare and foreign reality of being irritated with my mom overwhelming as I stretch, looking at the door like there’s anything more entertaining outside.  My mom always said I’d someday regret not having any hobbies except running around with Arvid and I guess that day is finally here.  “Should I go wake the chief up?  There’s got to be something I should go do.”  

“Eh, probably let him sleep.”  Mom goes back to rooting through the cabinets, “did you literally eat all the food?”

“It’s not like there was all that much.”  I cross my arms and lean back against the table, “I could go to the market, if you wanted.  I don’t know what all to buy but—”

“Where’s your sister?”

“Out.”  I shrug, I’m pretty sure she said something about meeting Arvid and I’m making that eternally hard choice to not think about it.

“She didn’t take Stoick anywhere?”  

“I don’t know.  I didn’t see her leave, I was giving Bang breakfast.”  

“Well he’s not hanging off of Bang so I’m assuming he’s not here.”  She says it like a joke and I don’t know why she’s not more concerned. It’s seemed like that a lot lately, honestly, ever since Snoggletog she’s been…almost serene.  It puts me on edge more than I could ever have imagined, honestly, because she’s always been the one on top of things, ready to appropriately freak out at a moments’ notice.  

But now?  Stoick is apparently mysteriously absent and she’s raising an eyebrow at me like she’s only mildly worried and it’s mostly about my dead expression.  

“Should I go look for him?”

“If you feel strongly about it,” she walks over to where her axe is hanging on the wall, and I hadn’t even noticed it there.  That makes less sense than anything else, the fact that she’s not sleeping with it under the edge of the bed where she always used to keep it.  I remember Rolf stubbing his toe on the handle once and moping around for weeks that it could have cut his foot off, and now it’s just…twenty feet away from her, all night, like suddenly everything is safe in a way that she’s always told me Berk isn’t.  

Maybe it’s because we’re basically in the center of the village now, instead of on the quiet dark edge where an attack would most likely start, but I don’t want to ask about it. I don’t want her telling me that things are safer and happier than ever when I don’t even have anyone to complain to.

“I mean, I kind of feel strongly about my little brother being missing—”

“Oh my gods, it’s like you woke up angling for a fight,” she rolls her eyes like she wasn’t born angling for a fight and hands me a bag filled with more silver than I used to see in a year, “go to the market while you’re out freaking out about nothing.  Try and get at least everything you ate this morning.”

“You’re sending me to the market?”  I weigh the silver in my hand and it reminds me of Fuse for some reason, probably because she’s the only other person to ever have overpaid me by this much.  

If I go to the market, the chances of seeing Fuse are higher than I’d really like to think about and yeah, I could nag Smitelout about the baffle but that doesn’t feel like it’d be enough.  

“I’m sure you can handle it.”  

“Well, what are you going to do?”  I look around, “the house is clean, all the trees outside are chopped down.  What if I don’t know what to get or I get so much I can’t carry it—”

Fuse can’t kill me if my mom is there.  Neither can Arvid.  

“You have a giant helpful lizard who will carry whatever you buy,” she starts physically ushering me towards the door and I shrug her hand off my shoulder.  

“What if we haven’t spent any time together lately—”

“That must be why I’m so well rested.”  She opens the door and half shoves me out, “go, I’ll braid your hair and we can talk about boys when you come back.”  

“We could do that now.” I try to step back inside and she shakes her head at me and closes the door in my face.  

Stormfly squawks, pecking at my pocket like I didn’t feed her breakfast an hour ago and I scratch her chin.  

“At least you still like me.”  I pull my hand away before she can nip at my sleeve again. “I’m not getting any quality time with her either.  I’m assuming she’ll be out in a bit.”  

She chirps and I pat her beak, “you could come to the market with me—or that!”  I call after her as she suddenly takes off, flying to land on the chief’s roof and curling her wings under her to sit like the giant chicken I feel like, nervous to go into the village like it’s a year ago and my parents will get pissed at me for it.  

I start walking that way even though Bang tugs on my hand and tries to get me to fly.  That feels more public though, because the skies are slowly starting to fill again.  Most of the owned dragons are back from their Snoggletog adventures and a few wild dragons have trickled in over the horizon.  It’s not enough and I know it’s not enough but I haven’t mentioned it and no one has mentioned it to me.  I guess I’d tell Aurelia if she was ever around, but part of me wonders if she’d just start finding a way to prove that I’m wrong about it too.  

I haven’t been right much lately.  And maybe that’s normal, but it feels like it’s getting pointed out a lot more than normal.  

The main square is full of more people than I want to deal with right now and I cut across to the forge as quickly as I can, half hoping to see Gobber because at least he’ll have time to yell at me or something, but it’s just Smitelout.  She’s working on a war hammer and humming to herself and when I say her name she glares at me and at least that feels normal.  

“Not quite ready to kick your ass, Twerp.”  

“What?”  

“When I finish your little gift for Thorston, or whatever,” she gestures under the counter where I’m assuming she’s storing it, “or not so little.  That thing is fucking huge.”  

“I’m aware.”  

“What’d you do?”  She snorts, “and you know, the size of the gift doesn’t make up for how big of an idiot you are.”  

“I didn’t do anything,” I scoff, because Smitelout is the last person I’m ever going to admit a mistake to.  Her ego would swell so big that the roof of the forge would pop off and the chief would probably make me fix it.  “But are you going to be done anytime soon?  It’s kind of important.”  

“Yeah, and so is the rest of the shit I’ve got to do.”  

“I’m just asking when you think it’ll be done.”  I remember I’m not with the chief right now and I’m not doing anything he asked me to and that there’s really nothing stopping me from telling her exactly what I think of this situation.  But I also don’t see how that would help anything and again, I’m campaigning for the heavy, irritating title of Eret the Helpful.  

“I’ll let you know, alright?”  She gestures around the forge, “I’ve got orders out the ass for new kid saddles for when wild dragons come back and the little shits can all choose their lifelong companion, or whatever.”  

“Any idea when that’ll be?” I snort.  

“I keep hearing any day now but—wait, why are you asking it like that?”  

“Like what?”  

“Like you know something I don’t.”  

“I can’t imagine you’re used to any other tone—”

“That’s a real reasonable thing to say to the person making your girlfriend’s presents for you.”  

“She’s not my girlfriend.” I huff.  I’m not sure she’s even my friend after I forgot about her and I keep wondering if I made the right choice flying away from her at the dock.

“I literally could not care less.”  She raises her hand like she had an idea I care about, “oh wait, if I were dead. Being physically dead is the only way I could care less.”  She shrugs, “and you don’t have to tell me your probably lame reason for talking about the dragons coming back in that ‘I’m the chief’s son so I’m so smart’ tone—”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Uh yeah it is,” she snorts, “ask any Jorgenson for the last like, three hundred years about the chief’s kids’ tone.”  

“Not going to dig up your family crypt to get lamely insulted, but thanks for the offer.”  

“I’m just saying though,” she sets down her hammer and looks at me almost pensively, or maybe she has gas and isn’t quite sure what to do about it.  Either way, at least it’s quiet enough I can half believe she wants me to respond to whatever she’s about to say.  “Usually there are a bunch more dragons back by now.  Looking at Gobber’s books, you were swamped with saddles a week earlier last year.”  

“Yeah, it was earlier.” I look around and the dragons I see are all wearing saddles or harnesses or following people around.  

“That’s what I get expecting brilliance from a Hofferson,” she spits the name and it takes me a second to remember she’s talking to me.  About me.  

“Thought I was just the chief’s kid to you, wouldn’t that make me a Haddock?”  

“You’re nothing to me,” she goes back to swinging that forge hammer and it sounds like a memory of a simpler time when I was inside and Gobber was telling me what to do.  At least when I was doing what Gobber said, I always knew it was the easiest way through.  “But once a Hofferson, always a Hofferson.”  

“It’s been…well, it’s been like you’re a pain in the ass, or something.”  I pat my hands on the counter once more then turn to leave, “and I’ll consider paying you more if you finish that soon.”  

“I’ll take two punches for a late in project rush job.”  She waves me away, “I’ll let you know when it’s done.  Just leave me alone until then.  Seriously.  I mean it.”

“Cool, I’ll check in every day.”  I laugh at her red angry face and wave one as I take a few backwards steps before turning and pausing again at the crowd.  

I don’t see Fuse.  I hate that I don’t see her, because that means this isn’t over.  I don’t see Arvid either, which is good because the bakery happens to be on his side of the island and I don’t know if I can expect him to honor that or not.  I didn’t start anything on Snoggletog, but that could easily be considered an exemption given the fact he was attached to my sister’s face and that would have made it hard to only hit one of them.  

I buy bread.  I have no idea how much enough is, I only know that I put more silver down on the counter than I think I’ve ever spent in my life.  I guess I’ve traded labor in the forge worth more, but I don’t think I’ve ever just…set that much money down.  I’m not quite sure I’d call it a perk of being the chief’s son, it makes things feel fake, tilted.  Because I didn’t work for any of this and I hate how easy it would be to get used to not working for anything.  I hate how the most of myself I’ve put into anything in a while is arguing with Smitelout.

On my way out of the bakery, Mrs. Jorgenson sees me and rushes over and I wonder, for a second, if Smitelout is really enough of a brat to tell her mom that I was bothering her or something, but she doesn’t say anything about Smitelout and instead dives into the middle of some issue I haven’t heard anything about.  

“It’s weeks after Snoggletog and the roof is still leaking, it’s right over the cooking pit in the back of the hall and I can’t get anyone down to patch it, the chief said he’d send Gustav over but it hasn’t happened and today I started to notice the floor warping and we can’t make a fire in there without more snow melting—”

“Whoa,” I step back and shake my head, “I don’t know anything about this, Mrs. Jorgenson—”

“But surely you could do something—”

“I…actually don’t know if I can—”

“You could talk to Gustav for me,” she purses her lips like she’s tasting something sour, “he won’t hear it from me, says I don’t have the authority.”  

“I don’t uh…I don’t see why he’d think I did.”  I pause for a minute and she stares at me like I’m stupid, the resemblance to her daughter becoming apparent in a second.  Smitelout might look like Snotlout with less of a beard but that derisive look is all her mother.  “Because I walk around with the chief while he orders people around?”  I laugh.  She doesn’t.

“Could you give it a try? At least?”  She’s polite in a way I’m not used to, asking instead of telling, and I sigh.  

“Ok.  Sure.  I’ll go talk to him when I’m done shopping, my mom sent me—”

“There was supposed to be a feast tonight and I can’t get the fire going.”  She edges in front of me like I’ll feel physically blocked enough to do what she wants.  

“Fine.  I’ll go now.  I can’t promise anything but—”

“Thank you!”  She’s way too excited for someone trying to patch a roof and I get that same feeling from it as I do from Aurelia when Mom gives her a task and she buckles down with that whole-hearted commitment.  It’s the commitment of someone who doesn’t get tasked with many things and I have half a mind to offer Mrs. Jorgenson some of mine.  

“Sure.”  I take one of the pieces of bread out of the basket and start eating it like it’ll magically make me feel more capable.  

I should go find the chief, probably, but that would just make this take longer.  And I’d have to ask the chief for help, which isn’t my favorite activity even if I know he’d probably give it to me.  He’s been happy too.  Happy enough to make me feel defective for feeling miserable and weird and out of place in the first house I’ve ever lived in where everyone is related to me.  

Gustav opens the door on my first knock and stares at me for a second like if he pretends he doesn’t recognize me I can’t ask him to do anything.  

“Good morning, Mr. Larson,” I start and it sounds as fake as it always sounds to pretend I don’t know all of these people in the name of some messed up professionalism.  Somehow, when the chief gives people formal titles, it’s always like a reminder that he’s chief and they’re not, but when I say it, I sound like a child.  It makes me wish I hadn’t shaved, honestly, but by the time my bruises faded to yellow, the beard was long enough to be itchy.  

“You fling some other thing into my roof?”  

That was the day I promised to make Fuse the baffle.  The reminder stings in a way it shouldn’t and I want to go throttle Smitelout for taking so long or better yet, kick her out of the forge and do it myself.  Gobber said that he wouldn’t let me abandon projects, but I’m realizing he probably just said that to yell at me about forge stuff one last time.  

“No, not today,” I laugh because the chief laughs when he’s trying to make someone do something they don’t want to do, “it is about a roof though.  Mrs. Jorgenson was telling me about the leak at the great hall—”

“It’s not a priority.”

“Says who?”  

“Says me.”  

“Well,” I swallow, “I say it is a priority.  The floor is starting to warp and that repair is a lot bigger pain in the ass.”  I remember a second too late that I’m not supposed to swear while I’m trying to look official.  “Shit.  Or budget. Both.  Whatever.”  

“Mrs. Jorgenson tell you that?”  He raises an eyebrow, “I don’t know why we gave her this feast, it’s all going to her head—”

“Yeah, well, at least she’s using hers.”  It’s harsher than I want it to be but maybe my own ounce of half power is going to my head. Maybe my ego won’t fit in the forge anymore either and maybe it feels like the only thing I can lean on.  It’s less of an ego and more of a crash landing pad that I’m intentionally keeping fully inflated.  “Of course we don’t have the wood to patch the floor of the biggest building on the whole island while we’re expanding our storage.”  

“We’re expanding our storage?  I thought your mom shot that down.”  

“She just shot down the giant ‘S’ part of it, which, you know, fair.”  

He looks at me for a second before rolling his eyes and pushing past me on his way outside.  He whistles and Fanghook drops down off of his roof, sniffing at Bang and growling a low, intimidating growl under his breath. Bang doesn’t care, which is one of the most admirable things about him, and I wish I felt like battles were choices the same way he does.  

“Fine.  I’ll go do it now.  Tell Mrs. Jorgenson you had to give me more Hel than this though, honestly.” He grins as he gets onto Fanghook, “and tell your mom I’ll do whatever she says if the chief sends her next time.”

My fist clenches. That whole not swearing rule is ridiculous.  

“The chief didn’t send me and I’ll tell my Mom to widen her perimeter of avoidance around you.”  

“Funny,” Gustav shakes his head, “the kid is funny.”  

I want to tell him I’m not a kid.  And that I’m not funny, I mean it.  None of that makes it out of my mouth before he takes off and at least flies in the right direction.  

I’m just getting onto Bang to go home and tell the chief that he might want to go do his own job before people start expecting me to do all of it when Aurelia walks out from between the houses behind me, arms crossed and frowning.  I know that look.  It used to mean she was gearing herself up for a fight with the chief but lately it’s meant that she thinks I’m wrong and she wants to make sure that I know it.  

“You can’t let Gustav talk to you that way,” she scoffs, “now he’s going to fight you on everything.”

“What do you know about Gustav?”  

“I know he has to listen to you.  Hel, he has to listen to me, I’m still the chief’s daughter even if it’s less legitimate than it used to be.”  

“I think it’s plenty legitimate,” I look at her, red braid over her shoulder, sarcasm wielded like a knife.  The singular embodiment of everything I had that never fit in with my family.  

“Well, yeah, but you still can’t let people talk to you that way if you’re going to be chief.  I know my dad doesn’t.”  

“I thought you’d be glad for a slight change in regime.”  I want to tell her about Smitelout and the dragons and I almost think she’d let me but she cocks her other hip and crosses her arms more tightly, like she’s resolving herself against talking to me.  

I bet she talked to Fuse. I bet they’re both mad at me about whatever they wouldn’t tell me before Snoggletog.  

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to act like the chief, you can’t let people talk to you like that.”

“I don’t think you’re qualified to give advice on being chief.”  

“Fuse saw you, by the way.” She shrugs one shoulder like she’s sorry she has to say it, “in the market.  And she saw you fly away from the docks.”

“Why are you telling me that?”  

“You should talk to her.”

“The baffle is almost done,” I sigh, “I nagged Smitelout about it today—”

“It’s like you’re this stupid on purpose.”  She shakes her head like I’m beyond help and maybe she’s right, maybe Eret The Helpful is a thing because I need it the most.  

“I try.”  I look at the basket of bread on Bang’s back, “Mom sent me to the market with what looks like all the money.  Do you want anything?”  

“Nothing you won’t eat before I get to it.”  She shakes her head and at least there’s a shade of a smile there, like she doesn’t hate me entirely.

[tunafishtime]

Hanging by a Thread

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Alcoholism, lots-a cursing, homicidal inclinations, major character death(?), PTSD, really bad decisions

Ship: Mercykill

Summary: When Jack returns from his mission bearing news of Ana’s death, Gabriel pins the blame on him, fanning a spark of dissent into a roaring flame.

(This will eventually be put on AO3 as well... had no idea it took so damn long to get an account. Anywho, enjoy my trash ship.)

“Dr. Ziegler, please report with medical team to hangar seven to receive drop ship. Dr. Ziegler, please report with medical team to hangar seven to receive drop ship.”

The urgent tone of the intercom ripped Angela’s thoughts away from the medical file she had been reviewing. Three days ago a strike team had left on a mission to Egypt to investigate Talon activity in the area. Whenever a mission involved Talon, Angela’s stomach churned, knowing that going up against the ruthless terrorist group meant that some of those agents would never return home. The thought of being helpless to those that had fallen caused her heart to sink, but, regardless, she stood from her desk. Now was the time to help those who had returned home.

“Mongelli, Haft, Lopez, grab the emergency response kit and come with me, quickly now,” she ordered, her voice firm with urgency. Angela strode across the room as three medical personnel scurried to gather the necessary equipment needed to stabilize and treat whatever wound the returning agents had sustained, until they got them back to the clinic, anyway. After snatching a handheld device from the charger, she glanced back at her team to make sure they were ready. Like true practiced professionals, everything was in perfect order. Feeling more than a humble swell of pride at her team, Dr. Angela Ziegler set out across Overwatch’s Swiss Headquarters.

Looking to her device as she walked briskly through the compound, her fingers tapped on the translucent blue glass in quick sequence, instantly summoning the medical files of each agent assigned to the mission. Any and all information she needed to treat any of them was at her fingertips. She began to skim over each of them, taking in any possibly relevant information. Of course, Strike Commander Jack Morrison was first on the list. If physical paper were still used, his medical history would take up an entire filing cabinet on its own. So, she did not waste much time going over it. As an enhanced super soldier, she doubted any of his wounds would be severe enough to require her in-depth attention.  Next was Ana Amari, Jack’s second in command with a substantially shorter medical history. Despite being in her fifties, the older woman was remarkably good at staying out of harm’s way. With a swipe of her finger, Angela moved to the next agent. She was not too worried about the imperceptible sniper either.

“Angela,” A smooth and familiar voice greeted her as she reviewed the file of Jonathan Bayless. She could not help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips when his heavy steps fell alongside hers.

“Good afternoon, Gabriel,” she responded with warmth, turning to gaze up at the man beside her. He did not return the gaze. With his ever present beanie pulled low over his forehead, he kept his heavy brown eyes, nearly hidden by his thick furrowed brows, focused forward. His stride was stiff and forceful. He looked like a man who was marching fearlessly into the waiting jaws of an angry Hydra. Angela’s smile faded to a soft frown. “Not looking forward to Jack’s return, I take it?”

“When am I ever?” He growled in response. Angela sighed, knowing that once he and the commander had been the best of friends. Ana had shown her pictures; Jack and Gabriel arm-in-arm with faces flushed from alcohol, laughing at some long forgotten joke. “With him here I can barely do my damn job, the way he peers over my shoulder, questioning every decision I make,” Gabriel continued, “As if he could make better choices, heh!”

“I know… but the UN is breathing down his neck too. Especially since… everything was leaked,” Angela said gently, glancing at the insignia embroidered on the sleeve of his uniform. Blackwatch, the covert-ops division of Overwatch that Gabriel was commander of. She remembered when the classified group and their actions had been unveiled to the public little over a year ago. The resulting anger sparked hundreds of protests against Overwatch. Even Angela felt sick thinking of what was in those records. It had lead to many heated arguments between the two of them.

“The UN can go fuck themselves for all I care,” He spat, waving one of his hands to the side dismissively. “They created us to keep the peace. You can't do that without making difficult decisions, decisions I’ve made. Jack and the UN would have us sit around here doing nothing while innocent people die.”

“Gabe-” Angela gently placed a hand on his arm, pressing on him and acting as an anchor, as she so often did when his temper began to flare. She could feel the tension in his muscles, but after a moment, he relaxed, letting out a controlled sigh.

“I know, Angie. But I’m sick of watching Jack lick the UN’s boots. I know those idiots have been crying for my dismissal for months now. It’s only a matter of time before their lapdog gives in.” Gabriel grumbled, voice lowered, but no less hateful. Angela gave his bicep another gentle squeeze.

“No, Jack would never dismiss you. Despite… recent events, you are still his friend and one of the founding members of Overwatch! Besides… you know Ana would never let him fire you,” She reassured him, smiling as she reminded him of the motherly second-in-command.

Gabriel caught a touch of her smile, lips tugging upward just enough to soften his dour expression. “Heh. Good point.” For just a moment, his fingers brushed over hers where they rested on his arm. Her hand reflexively twitched toward the contact, dying to lace their fingers together, but a stifled snicker from one of her medical team behind her snapped her mind back to reality and her hand away from his.

With a grumble, Gabriel’s head twisted around to study the three. “Something funny, Haft?” He growled, brows knitted together in a look that just dared the boy to say something clever. The Blackwatch commander was at least twice the size of the physician and looked more then able to pick the boy up with one hand and throw him down the hall like a javelin. Haft paled and turtled his head between his shoulders under Gabriel's gaze. “No sir…”

“Gabriel, leave him be,” Angela quickly interjected before his deadly glare could completely destroy her medical team, leaving nothing but crisp remains in their place. “We have work to do.” They had arrived at the hanger just as the large air ship was docking.

Machines hissed and whirred to life, holding out metal arms to embrace the ship before locking it into place with a loud clang. Mechanics rushed forward to assess any damage, shouting to each other using jargon that might as well have been in another language. However, Angela did not need to be an engineer to notice the massive stains of black that shadowed the back and underside of the ship, textured by the hundreds of dents riddling the same area. A pit of dread began to grow in her stomach, suddenly afraid to see the ship’s door fold open.

Yet, open they did, with Commander Morrison as the first to step onto the hanger floor. His overwatch coat hung limply on his broad shoulders, pierced and torn with fresh bullet holes. A tear on the upper sleeve caught her attention immediately, as the bright ocean blue fabric around the rip was stained with burgundy. With her team behind her, she rushed forward and grabbed his arm, beginning to remove his coat so she could better assess the damage. However, his other arm reached around to wave her away insistently.

“I’m fine, Angela. There are others that need more immediate attention.” Jack said, his hard voice like gravel being ground through a machine that was one loose bolt away from collapse. He merely waved in the direction of the agents exiting behind him, his blue eyes fixated on the floor in front of him. Angela stared up at him, face set.

“And that is why I brought a capable medical team.” Stealing a glance, she watched her team spring into action, examining each injury and prioritizing the worst. One man left the ship on a stretcher, his suit pant leg soaked in red. A civilian? He was obscured from her view as one of her team rushed to his side. “If they need me-” she looked back at him “- they'll call me.”

“What the hell happened out there, Jack?” Gabriel’s voice snapped behind her as he approached the commander. Several other Overwatch officials flanked him, waiting to hear the report from their commander. Angela felt Jack’s arm tense as she pulled the limb out of his sleeve.

“Verdammt! You didn't even try and patch this up, did you?” She muttered under her breath, examining where the bullet had grazed his bicep and took a hearty chunk of his skin and muscle out with it. Shaking her head in disapproval, she began cleaning off the dried blood and dirt that had caked around his wound. Jack ignored her.

“It was worse than we thought. They were after scientists-” He nodded his head back to the rather shell shocked group of civilians. “- working on a confidential project. When we went in to pull them out- Ah shit!” Jack exclaimed, jerking his arm back from the stinging saline solution Angela poured over the wound. Her grip tightened around his wrist, keeping him steady.

“Eh… The place was crawling with Talon when we came back out. There was a sniper… no, two. I-” Jack sucked in a breath as Angela filled the wound with a clear gel-like substance. He ran his hand through his blond hair, starting at the far wall. “Let’s do this later… I'll give you a proper debriefing in a few hours.”

As Angela wrapped the dressing around his arm, she looked up at Jack with concern. He didn't meet her gaze, nor anyone else's. The confidence of a leader he always tried to wear around others was just gone, as if something had sapped away all of his energy. The others noticed too, exchanging confused glances. What could upset their intrepid commander so much?

Gabriel was the first to notice.

“Where's Ana?”

The hard lump of dread jumped forcefully to Angela’s throat at Gabriel's question. She hadn't seen her exit the ship, but that didn't mean anything. She could have just missed her. Angela desperately scanned the grouped agents and civilians, hoping, praying to see that mischievous but motherly smile. The search did nothing to quell her growing fear. Her eyes turned back to Jack, longing for some explanation, but his head was bowed and eyes avoiding everyone's piercing gaze.

“Where is Ana, Jack?” Gabriel asked again, the pitch of his voice dangerously low in attempt to hide the slight quiver in his words. Jack covered his eyes with his hand, like a child trying to hide from their wrongs.

“I… she,” Jack paused to take a deep breath as Angela’s shaking hands pulled away from his bandaged arm. “She fell behind.”

Jack’s words were arrows that pierced all of them, shattering each heart they landed in. Angela’s hands covered her mouth to hide her gape, tears filling her eyes. She heard some breath “No” as if their denial would make his words untrue. Others slowly turned their heads down in mourning, accepting the words and the sorrows.

Wiping a tear from her eye, she turned to look at Gabriel. His head was down turned, his arms tense, and mouth a gape. In an instant, his face hardened, a mask of accusation to hide behind. His narrowed eyes shot up to stare Jack down, even if the commander would not return his gaze.

“What happened?” His voice rumbled, a quake in the region of an unstable volcano. Jack still did not look up.

“Two of ours were shot down by snipers. Ana was searching for them, but they spotter her first. She relocated and spotted one of the snipers. She boomed the building and created enough of a distraction so that we had a clear path to the landing zone. I ordered her to pull out then… but she… she didn't listen. She never arrived at the rendezvous.” Jack’s voice had become a whisper by the end. Angela's eyes closed as she held back more tears.

“So… you're telling me that when she failed to report in, Jack,” Gabriel's words were laced with venom, spitting out the commander’s name as if it were a curse. “You just left her?” Jack looked up then, meeting Gabriel's accusing eyes with a hard glare.

“I had civilians in my charge and men in need of urgent medical care. The place was crawling with Talon! What would you expect me to do?” Jack shot back in defense, keeping his voice low. Gabriel did not bother.

“I expected you to get your golden ass off that transport and find her!” He roared. Every head in the hanger turned to stare, watching with the same morbid curiosity as bystanders at a crime scene. Jack’s face flushed red as he set his lips in a hard line.

“And endanger every other life under my supervision? Force another EVAC pilot to land in an area under heavy fire? Compromise this entire organization to search for someone who is most likely dead?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You do not leave team members behind! No one gets left behind!”

“She was my friend too, Gabriel. I didn't want to, but I had to think of everyone!”

“She has pulled your sorry ass out of death’s arms countless times and this is how you repay that? By leaving her out there to die?”

“This isn't like it was during the crisis. There aren't just six of us anymore, there are hundreds! I am not going to prioritize the life of one over the lives of twenty!”

“But you'll prioritize your own over hers? Commander Jack Morrison everybody!” Gabriel threw his hands in the air, addressing the alarmed crowd. “He'll ask you to die for him, but won't risk a hair on his golden head for you!”

“Reyes! You are out of line!” Jack snapped with authority. Gabriel growled and began to pace restlessly. Two steps, then turn, two steps, turn; a spring being wound tighter and tighter. “I will not have you-”

“This is exactly why you never should have been made commander! You're all about teamwork until your own ass is compromised! It's Liao all over again!”

Jack’s voice lowered, breathing heavily. “That was an entirely different situation and you know it. We agreed not to mention-” Gabriel cut him off again, stopping mid-step to stare Jack down once more.

“I'm starting to sense a pattern here, Jack! Liao, Reinheart forced into retirement by you, and now Ana: abandoned and left for dead! Two to go!”

“Just what the hell are you implying, Reyes?”

“You tell me, Morrison.” Gabriel growled.

A moment of silence fell over the two as they stared each other down. It was toxic and thick with tension. No one dared to even breath, lest the sound snap the tightly wound spring. As much as Angela’s feet wanted to carry her Gabriel and calm him, she did not dare. The crossfire between the two was indiscriminate and deadly. Jack’s voice finally tore through the silence.

“I can and will suspend you if you don't get back in line, Reyes. Do not make me.” Jack growled. Angela did not doubt the threat for a second.

Gabriel’s response was a wordless shout of frustration as he threw his arms into the air. “I'm fucking done!” The tension and electricity clung to him as he turned and stormed out of the hanger. Mechanics and agents leapt out of his path, watching him leave with a questioning fear.

Jack let out a long sigh, relaxing his frame as he rubbed his forehead. Murmurs began to spread through the hanger, the fear that kept them quiet fading with Gabriel's departure. “As I said…” Jack breathed, exhaustion clear in his voice. “I will give you a full debriefing in an hour.” He left the officials and Angela standing there, briskly stepping out of the hanger with his torn coat billowing behind him.

Angela chewed her lip with concern. How could this have happened? She looked back at the rest of the agents that had returned from the mission. Only one of her team still remained, the other two having rushed the most unstable patients to the medical wing. Mongelli went to each agent, treating cuts and determining if they needed to report to medical, all with a calm doctor’s smile despite the alarming outburst she had just witnessed. Angela used to be able to do that with ease, but with each passing day, she found it harder and harder to pretend everything was not falling apart.

With a hurried stride, Angela moved beside the doctor, laying a hand on her shoulder. “If you need me, page me.” She said, looking down at Mongelli. She flashed Angela a knowing gaze before nodding gently. Her hand slid off her shoulder as Angela turned back to the direction Jack and Gabriel had exited, all but jogging into the hall.

God he needed a drink. The desire consumed his mind, growing louder and louder with each heavy step. It screamed into his ear, pounded on the walls of his head and begged, no, demanded to be fulfilled. Jack’s words only amplified the intense need, bouncing back and forth, fueling his anger. “The place was crawling with Talon!” and “I didn't want to, but I had to think of everyone” and every other word Jack spat out of his damned mouth, cut in occasionally with images. Vivid, imaginative images that could only be conjured by one who had seen every conceivable horror of the battle field. Images of Ana alone, shot down by a sniper and bleeding out over the filthy floor. Too weak to crawl out of the place she had stationed herself, waiting for help that would never come as the light faded from her eyes.

BANG! Gabriel slammed the door to the blackwatch commons open as he stormed through. The couches and tables were deserted, save for one. The disgraced, and presumed dead, Shimada boy lazed back on the sofa, watching the television with about as much fervor as he put into anything. Genji barely turned his head to acknowledge the commander, seemingly immune to the threatening aura surrounding Gabriel.

“McCree!” Gabriel roared, half expecting the kid’s ridiculous cowboy hat to meekly rise up from one of the sofas, “MCCREE! Where are you, you soggy pile of horse shit?”

“He is in the shooting range,” Genji’s heavily accented voice answered in the absence of a response from McCree as he raised a mechanical hand to change the station. Gabriel growled and snapped his head to the side, starring in the direction of the boy’s living quarters.

“I’ll find it myself then,” he muttered and stormed across the commons into the offshooting hall. He found the door to McCree’s room mercifully unlocked and, with no qualms about privacy, Gabriel pushed his way in. Every inch of the room was covered in junk, not unlike when the tides recede and leave piles of reeking sea trash in its absence. He made a mental note to flay the kid after all this shit was past. He was not living on the damned streets anymore.

With little more thought to the mess, Gabriel dove in, digging through the garbage with a narrow determination. A drawer was opened, majority of its contents flung to the floor, the drawer shoved closed when he failed to find his target, and another yanked open. Rinse and repeat, his temper growing with each failed search. He knew McCree had some in here. The kid was always testing the boundaries, sneaking it in at every opportunity, in spite of Gabriel’s fury when he eventually found the hidden stash. Now, however, he was more than grateful for the kid’s obstinance.

As he rummaged beneath the dresser, his fingers brushed across something cold and smooth. Gabriel grinned and wrapped his hand around the glass, pulling it into the light. A nearly full bottle of whiskey gleamed up at him. Thank whatever sadistic god was out there for that headstrong, lame ass cowboy. He uncorked the top as he stood, bringing the cool bottle to his mouth.

The golden liquid barely touched his lips before he stopped. Was this really a hole he wanted to fall back into? He knew what would happen if he drank the sickeningly familiar smelling elixir. Since he had dug that dark hole in his youth, he had fallen back into it twice, and both times, Ana had helped him get out. This time though… this time she would not be there to pull him up. She was gone. Jack had left her in Egypt surrounded by Talon with no way out. His imagination flared to life, flooding his mind with her screams, visions of pain, her last shuddering breath. Gabriel tilted the bottle up, letting the whiskey pour past his lips.

The alcohol burned his throat, the familiar sting already working to chase away his haunting thoughts. He winced as he swallowed another mouthful, sending another wave of liquid fire through him. The aftertaste lingered on his tastebuds like a puff of cat exhaust. Squinting suspiciously, he examined the bottle to make sure it was, in fact, whiskey and not fermented goat piss. The label loudly insisted on the former, boldly stating the liquid within was aged in the highest quality casks. Gabriel snorted, but brought the bottle back to his lips anyway. Quality was not of the utmost importance.

Hosting little desire to have McCree find his commander standing red handed in his wreck of a room and not-so-slowly getting drunk off his contraband whiskey, Gabriel marched out of the room. He strode past Genji, ignoring the cyborg’s presence as the cyborg ignored his, and out of the commons. In the more work-oriented areas a few Blackwatch agents milled about, but none gave him more than a respectful nod and a murmured “Commander”. They all knew to keep their distance from Gabriel when he passed surrounded by dark, thundering clouds of fury that only appeared after a fight with Jack. However, none of them had heard the news yet. None of them knew how bad it was.

Gabriel wrenched open the door to his office and disappeared within, the door slamming shut behind him. The small, familiar room was bereft of any other life and the door was one no one, not even Jack, would dare open without his say. Gabriel allowed himself to relax, slouching back against the door and taking another swig of the disgusting whiskey. He stared into the bottle, watching the liquid slosh back and forth. It swirled around like the still vivid images in his mind’s eye. The alcohol was not working fast enough. He could feel the warmth growing in his belly and a flush rising to his cheeks, but wave after wave of grief and loathing continued to assault his mind.

Clenching his fist, he stood up from the door and began to pace, using every ounce of his willpower to beat down his thoughts, at least until the alcohol could dull them. Images of Ana, her eyes cold and lifeless, covered in blood, but with skin as pale as her hair. No. A twisted memory from the Omnic Crisis of a slaughter in Germany, the walls dripping with red and chunks of flesh flung about with the only identifiable piece being a scrap of blue cloth. Stop. Jack staring at him coldly as he defended his decision to leave Ana behind to die. Shut up. An overwhelming desire to drive his fist into Jack’s perfect farm-boy face, breaking his nose with the same hand he once used to caress his cheek. Don’t. Gabriel wanted to drag him off his high-horse and beat him into the ground. Stop it. He could smash Jack’s head against the wall, staining it with his blood, hissing into his ear if Jack thought anyone would go out of their way to save him. No… He would watch him sink weakly to his knees and Gabriel would press the end of his shotgun into that boy scout’s cheek, smiling as he pulled the trigger, just like he wanted to. Kill them.

“Damnit!” Gabriel’s fist hit the wall hard enough to crack the reinforced drywall. His knuckles throbbed from the impact, the pain in perfect synchronization with his pounding heart. Wispy black smoke rose off his skin, rippling in the air until he clenched his fist again. The myst reluctantly settled back onto his hand.  Grinding his teeth, he stared at the cracked wall for a long while before taking another deep swig of whiskey. He let out a healed breath as he felt his mind begin to slow, those loud sharp thoughts muddled and dulled by the fog finally beginning to build.

“Gabriel…” it took him a moment to realize the voice that called his name was real. Sluggishly, he turned his head to look as the muffled click of the door closing reached his ears. Angela stood there, looking up at him, eyes full of… sadness? Regret? Pity? Probably all of the above along with a healthy dose of disappointment. He tore his eyes away from her, feeling redness rise to his cheeks that could only partly be blamed on the alcohol.

“I’m fine Angie… just need… a moment” he breathed, acutely aware of how difficult it was to enunciate each word.

“No, you are not okay” she insisted, her tone and words gentle. The tap of her footsteps were just as soft as she moved closer. “It’s alright to be…” her words fell into nothing as she stopped. He tensed as he heard her sigh, waiting for the accusation he could just feel coming. It never did. Instead, her hand rested gently on his arm that hung at his side, weighed down by the nearly empty whiskey bottle. Her other arm wrapped around his middle in an embrace, leaning her head against his back.

“It’s alright to not be okay,” her words were soft, cracked with sadness, “She was your best friend… she was a mother to all of us. You don’t have to… pretend to be alright,” a choked laugh left her lips as she wrapped her arms tighter around him, “I know I’m not.”

Gabriel rose an arm to cover his eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath to attempt to steady himself. “This shouldn’t’ve… it should never’ve happened,” he croaked, feeling the warmth in his stomach condense into a heavy pit. “Fucking… there was no reason…”

“I know, Gabe, I know…” Angela shushed his stammering with her gentle voice. “But there’s… there’s nothing we can do, nothing anyone can do… these things happen and there’s no reason for it.”

“Jack’s the damn reason.” He spat, turning in her embrace to gaze down at Angela. Her watery eyes met his as she shook her head.

“Jack did what he could in the situation he was in,” she insisted cautiously.

“He didn’t, Angie, and you know it. He could’ve gone back, could’ve at least tried to find her. The bastard probably didn’t even wait more than half a minute at the rendezvous.”

“There were injured civilians in his charge. One of whom had lost a leg… I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of all the horrible things that could, would, go wrong if an amputation isn’t properly cared for.” She paused to let out a sigh. “He had to make a choice… please don’t blame him for that.”

Gabriel stiffened in her embrace, her soft words suddenly feeling like an attack. “You’re taking his side.” He spat. He moved to put a foot of space between them, but her arms tightened around him.

“No, I am not,” she huffed insistently, “I’m not saying he made the right call, but he did what he thought was right at the time.”

“Then his priorities need to be sorted better. Your team always comes first. You’re not going to save shit if half the team is down! If I were there, if you were there, she would still…” His words trailed off into nothing. “You know it’s true, Angie.”

A sigh left her lips as she leaned her head against his chest. His own arms wrapped slowly around her narrow shoulders, his free hand twisting to brush through her soft golden hair while the other held his empty bottle of indulgence as far away as possible. The liquor sloshed back and forth as he swung the bottle in slow circles, his eyes staring passed it while his fingers threaded through her ponytail. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he imagined how pissed she would be if he yanked her hair down and shoved her against the wall. Perhaps her anger would subside if he stole her lips away in a deep kiss, his hands tracing along her waist as this clever fingers of hers clutched at his chest…

“I know…” He barely even registered Angela’s whispered voice outside of his daydream. “But… we weren’t there… there isn’t anything we can do.” Reality hit him again, blowing away his fogged, but far more pleasant, visions. His expression hardened as he stared at his fist tightened around the neck of the bottle. He suddenly felt her lift her head off his chest and found his eyes pulled to gaze into hers. Soft hands cupped his cheeks as she looked up at him sadly. Despite the anger that still swarmed his mind, he felt his face relax as he leaned into her hand.

“Angie…” he heard himself whisper. Any words that were meant to follow were lost in the disorganized slurry his thoughts were quickly decaying into. He felt one of her hands move away from his cheek, sliding down his arm and wrapping gently around his hand that still clutched the bottle of whiskey. Her fingers threaded through his in an attempt to loosen his vice-like grip. He did not. A sigh escaped her lips as her other hand ran caressed his cheek and neck.

“Don’t do this to yourself, meine Liebe,” his eyes drifted closed as she spoke softly, “I know it hurts, but this… this will only make it worse.” The tips of her fingers traced around his knuckles with an agonizing gentleness. Slowly, hesitantly, his hold on the bottle loosened and her fingers replaced his seamlessly. She took the bottle from his hand, placing it on the desk beside them before turning back to him with a gentle smile. He felt his head fall forward to lightly rest his forehead on hers as she took his now empty and in hers. Inhaling deeply, he let his mind drift through her scent. The sweet tones of violet and sweet pea mixed with the bitter hint of coffee did more to calm his mind then any drink ever could.

“No one would say anything if we were to take the rest of the day off…” she suggested, running a hand over his chest. “We could go home, watch terrible old movies and then we could cook a nice dinner-“ she stopped as Gabriel’s chest shook with soft chuckles “or, well, I’ll stay out of the way while you cook a nice dinner. Hmm? What do you say?”

Gabriel’s arms wrapped tighter around Angela as he buried his face in her hair. His lips broke into a grin when she began to giggle as the bottom of his goatee tickled her ear. She pinched his side playfully and squirmed as he dragged his scratchy beard across her soft cheek and down her chin. Her giggle faded to a hum of content when he leaned into her neck, peppering her with gentle kisses.

“I say…” he whispered between kisses, “I say we go home,” he placed a long kiss just below her jaw, “forget the terrible movies,” kisses traced back up to her ear, his voice low, “and we find-“

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The noise drew a groan from both of them, forcing Gabriel to pull away and watch with a blank stare as Angela dug the small pager out of her pocket and examined it. The disappointed expression on her face as her eyes darted across the screen was all he needed to pull his arms away from her.

“Oh… Gabe, I’m so sorry. One of the patients is having complications, I have to go…” her hand reached out to grasp his again, squeezing his fingers together. He turned his head away to stare at the wall, drawing concern and hurt to her eyes. Then, he glanced back at her, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Guess you’ll have to make up for it tonight.”

She grinned at his words, standing on tiptoe to plant a light peck to his cheek. “I guess I will,” she hummed before leaning away and taking a step back. She jumped as Gabriel lunged forward to grab her neck and pull her into a proper kiss. He smiled as she melted into him, their lips moving together slowly and passionately. After what seemed like forever, but somehow not long enough, Angela pulled away, placing her hand on his cheek with a tender gaze.

“It will be alright…” she whispered against his lips, “I promise.” Placing one last lingering peck on his lips, she stepped away from his embrace. His hand reflexively reached for hers again, but she slipped away from his reach, sliding out the door with only one last look thrown over her shoulder. The door closed and silence smothered his office.

For just a moment, he almost believed her words: it will be alright. That would be nice to believe, to have that optimism, but he had been playing this game too long. He had seen too many people he cared about cut down by stupidity, bureaucracy, assholes in suits who have never even seen a battlefield, yet somehow think they know the best course of action. Now Ana was gone too.

Gabriel reached over to trace the rim of the bottle Angela had placed on his desk, tilting it on it’s corner as he traced the circle. Who would be the next victim of Jack’s stupidity or the UN’s chopping block? Him? Torbjorn? Angela? The bottle slipped away from his finger that held it into place, hitting the desk with a loud clunk. He would never let that happen. He would rip out his heart before he would lose her. Not that his heart would help her much if she had been in Ana’s situation.

The bottle wobbled unsteadily across the desk, what little remained of the liquid inside sloshing back and forth. He had no power to protect her, just as he had been helpless to save Ana. They were far out of his reach, held in Jack’s clumsy fingers along with Overwatch and, quite possibly, the world. How much longer before they all slipped right through?

With one last slow, shaky roll, the liquor bottle tumbled over the desk and smashed onto the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces that skidded across the tiles. Gabriel stared down at the broken glass, his expression set in a hard line. He was done watching the UN pull Jack’s strings like he was a fucking marionette at a children’s theater. They and the public thought they knew exactly what should be done, but they did not have a damn clue. However, Ana did. He did. He knew what needed to be done, and he was tired of not being heard.

Boots crunching against the broken glass, Gabriel moved to sit behind his desk. With a strange determination in his expression, he flipped on the electrical interface that hovered over his desk. His fingers moved quickly to summon a paging window.

“Moria, this is Commander Reyes. Report to my office. I wish to discuss... expediting your research.” The window clicked closed the moment his voice had been transmitted and he leaned back in his seat with a sigh. Angela would hate him for this, he knew, but he would rather she hate him then have her dead due to his inaction. Like Ana.

Overwatch, and everyone in it, was hanging by a thread over a black pit and he would be damned if he just sat and waited for the thread to snap.