#Friendly reminder that I am close to a full foot taller than she is

[i-am-literally-deranged]

ough I'm going through my stuff to cut down rn and I HATE that I have such a weird size because I would love to pass some of this stuff down to somebody but I simply do not know anyone who wears my same sizes

[mrs-mikko-rantanen]

Conditioned

 2501 words. A little longer than I had planned but that’s ok I guess. I’d also wanted it to be a bit more “mind control” but it didn’t quite end up right. TW: Capture, choking, drugged, attacks, friendly fire, hospital.

 Adair followed Nyar as the captain pushed the door open, Thane keeping his gun trained on the door as the other two crossed the room to the figure lying on the floor. 

"Caelum, hey buddy it's me." Nyar had knelt to the ground, checking his pilot's pulse with one hand, the other still gripping his gun. Caelum let out a startled cry, wincing and recoiling from Nyar's hand. Adair felt his heart break a little for Caelum as he slug his own gun over his shoulder. The room was evidence enough that Caelum had been tortured and abused horribly during the month he'd been missing. The room was cold, with no padding anywhere in sight, meaning Caelum had likely spent most; if not all of his time here sleeping on the floor. Adair's nose wrinkled a little at the thought. It was also obvious that Caelum had been sick at some point in here, and the medic hoped that he didn't have any open wounds, any of which would absolutely be infected by now. 

          "Nyar, get the blindfold off him." Adair ordered gently, reaching over Caelum and cutting through the ropes that were holding his hands behind his back. 

         Once the blindfold had been removed and his bonds cut, Caelum's hands flew up in front of his face, his body curling up to protect his head. 

          "Caelum, it's ok, it's us. We're here to get you home." Adair said softly, trying to pull Caelum's hands away. "I just need to look you over real quick and then we can go, ok?"

         "No, stop!" Caelum wailed, slapping Adair's hands away, "Leave me alone!"

       Nyar grabbed Caelum's hands tightly, holding them out of Adair's way, "Hey man...hey hey, it's ok, we won't hurt-" he was cut off as Caelum broke free, scrambling into a sitting position and throwing a punch into Nyar's nose before he tried to back away. 

Nyar fell back a little, and Adair quickly grabbed Caelum’s arm. Caelum pried it out of his grip quickly, moving to back-hand Adair as he did so. Years of boxing in an underground ring and honing his reflexes were the only thing that kept Adair from getting hit. He leaned back quickly, Caelum’s fingers only just brushing against his nose. He took Caelum’s wrist again, loosely, as he called for Thane. 

“He’s in shock,” Adair explained quickly, “I just need him to calm down a little.” 

Thane nodded and knelt on the other side of the frightened young man, offering him a smile as well. “Cael, hey just look at me, ok? Just look…” 

Again, Caelum lunged to attack his friends and rescuers, letting out a pained scream as he clawed at Thane. Nyar had recovered by now, and wrapped an arm around Caelum’s chest, pulling him back away from Thane.

“GET OFF OF ME! LET GO! STOP IT, LET ME GO!” Caelum’s voice cracked as he struggled against Nyar’s grip. 

Thane frowned, looking to the door. “He’s making too much noise. They’re going to come investigate.”

“Snow him.” Nyar grunted, fighting to keep Cealum down, “Knock him out, MacClyde.”

Adair shook his head. “I don't think--”

“STOP! PLEASE, STOP! GET OFF ME!” Caelum was crying now, gasping and clawing as he kicked against Nyar. 

“I said knock him out!” Nyar shouted as Caelum threw an elbow into his side.

“I can’t! I don’t know if they’ve drugged him, I don’t want to risk overdosing him!” Adair shouted back as he and Thane fought to keep Caelum from hurting Nyar too much. 

Nyar let out an angry growl, shifting a little. “Sorry, buddy.” He grunted before wrapping his arm around Caelum’s neck, pressing his bicep tight against his throat. 

Adair felt a wave of horror crash over him, mixing with worry and guilt as he watched Caelum’s eyes widen and fill with panic. The mechanic tried desperately to free himself from Nyar’s grip, his fingernails digging into his arm and drawing blood in thin lines as his face went red. Adair met Nyar’s eyes, which were filled with question, and felt his jaw clench. It wasn’t long before Caelum stopped fighting, his hands falling limply to the ground, and his eyes rolling back as his head slumped to the side a little.

“He’s out.” Adair said, his voice flat.

Nyar nodded, his grip relaxing as he grabbed for the blindfold that had been discarded onto the floor. He tied it around Caelum’s mouth in a clumsy gag, then met Adair’s eyes. “We’ve already wasted enough time, we have to move, now. And we cant really do that again when he wakes up. We can argue in the car.”

Adiar’s teeth ground together so hard that the edges of his vision blurred a little as he helped Nyar haul Caelum up to drag him towards the getaway car. 

“Yes, Captain.”

Sometimes, he really did see exactly why Ewan hated Nyar as much as he did.

*.*.*.*

Caelum was warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt warm. He frowned a little as he shifted, trying to determine where he was. Nothing felt right. His brain was trapped in a fog and he had no memories past…

...Past Nyar trying to kill him.  

His eyes flicked open at the memory, and he blinked rapidly, a hand up to try to diffuse the light as his eyes adjusted. 

"Hey, look who's finally up!" He flinched away from the voice on his left. Thane. Thane had been there too. He'd held him down, kept his hands still while Nyar had wrapped his arm around Caelum's neck. If he was here now….

Caelum acted on instinct, gripped by an animal terror as he leapt out of the hospital bed. He ignored the shouting and the painful sting as the IVs and needles pulled against him, chaining him to the bed. He grabbed the front of Thane's shirt and slammed him against the wall, hard; once, twice, before shifting his grip so that both of his hands were wrapped firmly around the younger man's throat. Tears streamed down his face and he squeezed harder. 

"You're a lie!" He hissed, blinking through the tears, "You're a lie, you're a lie, you're a lie!"

Thane's fingers curled around Caelum's wrist and his mouth opened as he gasped, trying to force breath into his lungs. His face was red; eyes wide and full of terror and confusion. 

"You weren't there to save me." Caelum spat, "You were there to kill me."

The door burst open and Caelum's head spun around quickly to see Avanda burst in the room. He dropped Thane, who fell with a shuddering gasp and a fit of coughing to the floor. 

"Caelum, it's ok." Avanda said slowly stepping farther into the room now, "I'm not here to hurt you."

He almost believed her. 

Almost. 

It would have been much easier to trust her if he couldn't see the rest of them behind her, staring hungrily at him. 

"Do you know who I am?"

Caelum nodded, one fist raised to her, the other hand stretched out to shield himself from Thane, should he decide to get up and attack him again. 

"Good. That's good. Now I need to check on Thane, alright? I'm just going to lead him out of the room."

She waited until he nodded, then slowly helped Thane to his feet and ushered him out to the hallway before turning back to Caelum. 

"You're bleeding.  Can I fix that IV for you?"

"No." His voice was hard and his answer fast. "Stay back."

"Caelum, you're hurt. You need help. Please, let me-"

"I said stay back!"

"Caelum-"

He was on her in a heartbeat. She was pinned right where he'd had Thane trapped against the wall only moments before. 

"I said: stay back."

Avanda seemed calm. Especially for someone who's windpipe was being crushed by somebody a foot taller than them.

She reached a hand up to his arm, blinking hard and trying to form words. Her hand was trying to move his, but more patiently than Thane had been. 

"I'm...s-sorry…" She finally gasped. 

Caelum blinked in confusion as he felt something prick at his neck, and he released her to lift a hand to the needle that some one else had stuck him with while he was distracted. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, stepping forward to catch him as he stumbled forward, “I’m so sorry, Cael.” 

Caelum let out a choked sob as he sank to the floor, staring at Avanda in terror.

“You lied...you lied too...no….”

“I’m sorry.”

Her face was the last thing he could see as the sedative pulled him away into the darkness.

"You lied."

*.*.*.*

"He's progressing well." Adair reported, flipping through Caelum’s file.

"And he's alone?"

"Yes."

"Good." Nyar nodded. “Good, I think he should stay isolated while he recovers.”

“You’re kidding.” Avanda scoffed, her arms crossed.

Nyar shook his head. “Not at all. He’s dangerous. It’s not forever, Av. He just needs some time to heal, that’s all the longer we’ll keep him on his own, I promise.”

“Nyar, that’s-” Avanda closed her eyes and shook her head, “That’s the last thing he needs right now, ok?”

Nyar scowled, shifting to face her better. “Oh yeah? Remind me, what happened when he woke up and saw Thane? Or what about both times he saw you?”

Avanda shook her head. “Nyar, he was still in shock, he’s been gone for a month, and who knows what kind of torture he’s been going through, of course he’d be scared!”

“Scared? That’s not scared, Av. That’s dangerous.” Nyar pointed towards the closed door separating them from the room where Caelum was, chained to his hospital bed.

“I hate to admit it, but I think Nyar may have a point.” Adair said slowly. “I mean look at how he’s been reacting to staff here during his recovery. Aislin can work with him fine, and he doesn’t fight Johnson at all. But he attacked you twice, and me once. I was there during the rescue, and he clearly misinterpreted some of the stuff that happened that night, so he thinks of me as a threat. As for you and Thane, I think it’s safe to say that whatever he went through, it was probably some sort of...conditioning based torture.”

The room fell silent. Avanda didn’t miss any of the quick glances that were tossed her way, or how Adair had paused before voicing his hypothesis. She sighed a little and chewed her lip, a scowl written across her face as she’s thought.

“He’s scared.”

“I know, Av but-”

“No.” She snapped, “No, you don’t know. You’ve never been through what he’s been through. You’ve never been where he is right now, you have no idea what it’s like to be terrified of the people you love for no reason.” She glared at everyone in the room, challenging them a little as she spoke. “So none of you know how scared he is right now. Or how lonely he is, or how desperately he just wants to feel safe.” She turned on her heel, heading for Caelum’s room as she rolled up the sleeves of her flannel. 

She pushed the door open slowly, stepping in and closing it behind her.

“Hello, Caelum.” It broke her heart to see him like this. He was one of her oldest friends, her brother. He was supposed to be cheerful and upbeat, never without a smile and a laugh. Not this traumatised shell with hollow eyes and a tear-stained face. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was rough as sandpaper as he shifted, pulling his knees closer to his chest as the short chains clinking slightly.

“I thought you might be lonely.” Avanda said gently. 

“I want to be alone.” Caelum whispered, “I can’t trust myself.”

Avanda nodded. “I know. But I trust you.” She stepped closer to him, moving towards the chair next to his bed.

Caelum fliched, pulling the chains away. “Don’t-don’t get too close to me.”

Avanda sat down slowly, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’m not afraid of you, Caelum.”

He looked up at her with sad, tormented eyes. “You should be.” He finally whispered.

Avanda smiled a little, sadly. “I’m so sorry, Caelum. I wish we’d found you earlier.” When he said nothing, she spoke again. “Do you mind if I touch you? I don’t think you need these chains.”

“No, please don’t.” He recoiled a little, holding his wrists out of her reach, “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ok. If they make you feel better, we can leave them on.” She waited for him to relax again. “Do you remember when I first got back from when He’d kidnapped me? How I couldn’t look you in the eyes or stand close enough for you to reach me?”

He nodded a little. “Yes.”

“Do you know why?”

“Because He’d--conditioned you to expect some sort of pain with me.” Avanda hated how guilty he sounded about it. Like he had been the one to hold the lighter to her skin or to blow the smoke in her eyes. How he blamed himself for details of her past that he didn’t even know everything about. She’d never told any of the crew exactly what had happened. Not the specifics anyway, just the basics.

“I wasn’t very easy to be around those first few weeks, was I? I think I may have even hit you when you tried to hug me.”

Caelum let out a huff of what may have been laughter. “No, you didn’t hit me. You just acted like a cat that didn’t want to get picked up.”

Avanda chuckled a little. “Maybe you’re right. But did you ever once think that I was dangerous? Or that I was going to hurt you? That I’d become another person completely?”

“No.”

“What did you think?”

He licked his lips a little. “That you were scared. And that-that I wanted to help you.”

“That’s exactly how I feel right now. Caelum, I know exactly how you feel. I know how scared you are; how terrified you are of all of us, of yourself, I know. But I also know that you’re not going to hurt us. You’re still the same old giant, friendly, sweet, hungry, goofball that I grew up with. And I know that you would never dream of hurting me, or any of the rest of us. You’re still my friend. And I’m not about to just give up on you.”

Caelum looked up at her again, searching her face for any sign of a lie. “Thank you.”

Avanda smiled at him. “You’re welcome. Do you want me to take those off now?”

Caelum glanced at his wrists. “Are you sure you feel ok with that?”

“Positive. I can always put them back on for you if you start to feel worked up.”

Caelum swallowed hard, then nodded a little. “Ok. Ok, yeah. Let’s give it a try.”

[leahxx129]

Feels Like Home: The Return (pt.1) (Hvitserk x Reader)

Okay, so this idea is something I have been contemplating for a while now and recently I’ve come to the conclusion of ‘why the hell not’. The story is gonna have around 5 parts and I plan to keep each chapter short (less than 2.000 words) to make things more reader friendly.

Summary for pt.1: Following your father’s death you are on your way to Kattegat and wonder if your childhood friends, the Ragnarssons, will be there to greet you when you arrive. You are especially curious about one particular brother.

Warnings: none, I think. This is just fluff basically. (Angst will come later on.)

Word count: 1.160-ish

* Moodboard is mine, images used are not. *

You are staring at the night sky, trying to remember the last time the stars shone this bright at you… nothing comes to mind. The cog sailing ship you won from a wealthy merchant by beating him in cards is slowly rocking under you. The waves are crashing against its side rhythmically, creating a melody as soothing as a lullaby. You pull the furs tighter as a light gust of wind hits your face and sends shivers down your spine. You forgot just how chilly this land is... The moonlight illuminates the water, and, in the distance, you can see the outline of Kattegat’s shores. In less than an hour you will set foot on the soil you have not walked on for many-many years and your heart almost bursts with nervousness. A multitude of questions and what if-s flood your mind, not leaving room for clear thinking. What if returning was a terrible idea? What if nothing goes as planned? Will the Ragnarssons be there to greet you when you arrive? But most importantly, will he be there?

All five sons of Ragnar are waiting in the port – some more patiently, some less. They have been there for quite a while now and the cold starts to creep deep into their bones. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. You are not the only one full of questions, they all have inquiries of their own, although they keep them to themselves. They are curious about things like how much have you changed? Will they be able to recognize you? It’s been ten years after all... Or like why didn’t you come visit all this time if they were as important to you as you claimed when you took your leave? And why didn’t you write at least a few words every now and then?

“Alright, brothers, here she comes. Please behave.” Bjorn says as your ship anchors down and people start disembarking. His remark earns him a scoff from Ivar and a smile from the rest.

“We are not children anymore, Bjorn, you need not to worry about our demeanor.” Ivar replies with audible annoyance in his tone.

“That you indeed are not!” a delicate female voice turns their heads in its direction and the men’s eyes widen in awe.

The woman standing in front of them looks just as breath-takingly beautiful as the day she parted, though her features are more mature and there is a glint of wisdom in her eyes.

“Y/N?” Ivar speaks up, breaking the silence. “Is that really you?”

You feel a huge smile spread across your face at the sound of your name coming from his mouth.

“Yes, my King, it’s really me.”

Hearing you address him like that makes him replicate your facial expression.

“So, you have heard about my title…”

“Well of course I have, and I could not be any happier for you!” you take a step forward and open your arms to embrace him in a hug but stop yourself abruptly.

“Gods, where are my manners… I shall ask… would you allow me to hug you, my King?”

Without a word he grabs your hand and pulls you in, squeezing you tightly.

“Besides my brothers and my wife Freydis, you might be the only person on Earth who shall not ask things like this.” he whispers into your ear. “Gods, I missed you, Y/N…”

“I missed you, too, Ivar! The last time I saw you, you were half a head shorter than me and you did not use crutches! Sometimes I would crawl with you in the dirt so you would not feel alone, remember? But now look at yourself… I have to tiptoe to be at your eyelevel.” you whisper back then pull away to take a look at the others.

“It’s my turn, hand her over, Ivar!” Bjorn exclaims having caught your gaze.

He envelopes you into a bear-like hug then takes a step back to inspect you in all your glory.

“My, my… I must admit you have grown into a lovely young lady, Y/N. Who would have thought that a girl who spent most of her time in the company of rowdy boys would turn out this exquisite?”

“Thank you. Although I must add that those boys were not half as rowdy as they would like to believe they were.”

Your comment is rewarded with lively laughter and your heart grows two sizes at the sound. Up until this moment you have not realized just how much you missed the Ragnarssons.

Ubbe is next to greet you. He lifts you up by grabbing onto your hips and spins you around a couple of times, enjoying the giggle that escapes your mouth.

“Please stop it Ubbe, I’m going to get dizzy! And you remember what happens when I get dizzy, don’t you?” your insinuation works, and he puts you down gently.

“Of course I do! And I do not wish to be vomited on so, feel free to proceed with greeting the rest of my brothers.” he chuckles.

“I don’t mind if you vomit on me because that would confirm that this is not a dream and you are really with us, here in Kattegat!” Sigurd whispers once he hugs you and his words awaken your remorse.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t write, Siggy! I have absolutely no excuses. All I can hope for is your forgiveness.”

“You have it, Y/N.” he replies without missing a beat. “You have it.”

Last but not least, you step in front of the third son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Your heart is pounding against your chest so loud, you fear that even he can hear it.

He has not changed much over the years. He became taller and perhaps has more facial hair and longer braids, but his eyes radiate the same kindness and warmth as before. A faint smile appears on his handsome face and he takes both your hands, pulling you closer to his body. Even though it is considerably cold your skin burns where he touches you.

“Welcome back, Y/N! I am sorry about your father, we all are. My brothers are just too joyous to see you, that is why they forgot to mention it.” he says softly, reminding you of the reason of your return – your father’s death.

“Thank you, Hvitserk! I deeply appreciate it.”

Your arms unconsciously snake around his torso, and he hugs you around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your figure still fits into his perfectly.

You just stand there for a minute like that in silence, only the murmur of the waves and the sound of servants unpacking can be heard. 

You both feel the eyes of the others burning into you, but you could not care less. Being this close to each other feels like home and that is something neither of you have experienced in a long time.

Read PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 and PART 5 (final part).

[unlockthelore]

Folding Clothes

While chores aren’t the most exciting thing in the world, they do have a perk to them — one Yuusuke is happy to teach his son.

Chapter 1 of the Doin’ the Human Thing fic and part of the Guns and Roses series on Ao3. For more updates of this specific fic, follow the doin the human thing tag. 

Yuusuke had come to terms with the idea of chores being a necessity in everyday life. While it wasn’t the most exciting thing and he would’ve hardly liked to take out the trash, clean dishes, or sweep the floors — having a clean house took work. Especially when it was a house full of people who needed a bit of cleanliness to wreak their usual havoc. Chores weren’t exciting. However, doing them with his family did provide a certain appeal.

Kurama was often the go-to option if Yuusuke needed something done, and work divided between them was done in no time flat, albeit with no small amount of teasing and a few stolen kisses here and there. It was certainly hard to complain about washing dishes with Kurama hugging him from behind, the solid warmth of his body pressed to Yuusuke’s back and soft lips at his ear whispering wicked things.

Deft fingers toying at the waistband of his sweatpants, quickly moving to safer territory when tiny footsteps accompanied by even tinier voices interrupted the moment. Never failing to make Yuusuke laugh when Kurama shifted from tempting lover to doting father, addressing the small duo who pulled him away for their own needs or the simple want of playing with him.

Normally, Yuusuke would’ve been amenable to Kurama’s helpless glances but the dishes did need to be done. In fact, he might have taken a little longe with them. Allowing the sounds of his children’s squabbling with their father to lull him deeper into his thoughts until the rumbling of the dryer stopped with a loud beep. Drying off his hands, Yuusuke threw the dish towel over his shoulder and started off toward the laundry room. Piling all of the warm clothes into a basket and hefting it in his arms easily, the weight nothing compared to most of the heavy lifting he had to do over the years.

Compared to handling territory disputes and sitting on a makeshift throne while Yomi and Mukuro bickered at one another, Yuusuke would’ve taken folding clothes anyway. Especially if it granted him a view like this. In the short time he’d been gone, Kurama managed to wrangle their two kids into some semblance of order.

The tinny 8-bit music coming from the television’s speakers occupying their son, Asahi, as he swayed from side to side, attempting to beat the most recent level of his game. Yuusuke spied Kurama glancing up from his laptop once or twice, glancing toward the screen, his eyebrow raising when Asahi made a questionable move and lips curling up at the corner when Asahi passed another obstacle.

Kurama’s relationship with video games had been a little rocky ever since their battle with Sensui and while he did enjoy them, it wasn’t until Asahi expressed his interest that he’d truly thrown himself back into the love of them. Time was needed and a few child-friendly explanations on why his father’s breath hitched whenever Asahi reached a “Game Over”, or why he needed a break when Asahi asked him to let him win. But things were getting a little better steadily — it wasn’t fun — but some things in life weren’t.

A little tug at his pants leg turned Yuusuke’s attention downward to a little girl who was no taller than his knee. Her dark hair falling in her eyes as she rubbed at them, tiny sniffles coming with a sleepy whine. Yuusuke setting down the basket to swing her up in his arms, tucking his hands beneath her as she curled closer to his shoulder with a content sigh.

“Tired, Tsubaki?”

“Mm…”

Yuusuke caught a glimpse of golden eyes slipping shut before her small faces pressed to the side of his neck. Gentle snores and even breathing coming after a few pats to the back and a soft hum, the basket lifted up beneath his opposite arm and carried to the couch.

“Do you want me to take her, Yuusuke?” Kurama asked, his voice a touch softer as he reminded Asahi to turn the television’s volume a little lower as to not disturb his sister. With no complaint, the tinny music was barely audible.

Yuusuke hiked Tsubaki up on his hip, ensuring she was still asleep before he turned around to look at Kurama. “Nah, I got her. ‘Sides, how’s work co—“

A rustle of fabric and the basket creaking drew his ear and Yuusuke’s brows furrowed, his gaze dropping to the head of red hair peeking from beneath one of Kurama’s white dress shirts. After moving it aside and squinting, eyes as brown as his own opened, gazing up at him questioningly. To Yuusuke, it was a little cute how much Asahi resembled Kurama. Like his father, Asahi possessed the same mane of red hair, long and filled with demonic energy in every strand which meant it was impossible to cut and wouldn’t stay short for long. It grew at an impressive length and his bangs often covered wide rounded brown eyes. Yuusuke might have been a little biased but he felt blessed with having two beautiful kids, although Asahi’s cuteness was just as weaponized as Kurama’s was.

Asahi smiling up at Yuusuke despite clearly being burrowed in a basket of clean clothes and Yuusuke was hard-pressed not to smile back. Hearing the muffled chuckle from Kurama only earned him a sideways glance.

“… What’re you doing?” Yuusuke asked gently, amusement lilting at his voice betraying him.

Asahi poked one foot in the air and wiggled his toes, seeming to tuck himself deeper beneath another one of Kurama’s dress shirts and Yuusuke’s jacket. “It’s warm in here, daddy.”

Yuusuke couldn’t help laughing. Soft though it was, Asahi didn’t take well to being laughed at when he didn’t know the joke. His nose wrinkling cutely. “I get that, kiddo. I just took these out of the dryer, but I mean what’re you doing in there.”

Asahi squints at him as if he asked the easiest question in the world, and the look is so blatantly him that Yuusuke snorts.

“Being warm?”

Arguing with four-year-old logic seemed a little futile and he did look cozy, but Yuusuke knew that the clothes would lose their warmth eventually, and not fast enough for him to coax Asahi out of them. Tsubaki shifted in his hold, pressing her face against the side of Yuusuke’s neck earnestly, a little brush of something against his arm reminding him of her tail. Her ears following shortly after, twitching and tickling his cheek. Small snores reminding him that she was fast asleep and he sighed.

Like a beacon of hope, Kurama came to the rescue.

“Asahi, those were just cleaned.”

His tone ever patient and gentle when regarding their children, although Yuusuke could practically hear the smile in his voice, the older redhead far too amused with his son’s antics.

Yuusuke could hardly blame him though. He was entertained daily with the mischief that his children got up to and while Asahi shared a greater deal of his looks with Kurama, his creativity was surely derived from Yuusuke. His imagination was vast and wild. Often times, Tsubaki was his partner in crime but whereas she shared Yuusuke’s looks, she had more of Kurama’s disposition down to his humor and wit.

It made them a devastating duo but also the best of friends. Yuusuke was an only child but his friends — namely, Kuwabara — gave him some sense of what it would be like to have a sibling. All of them had become a family to him of sorts and while Kurama was also an only child, they agreed that having more than one child would be nice. And seeing the pair that they had, Yuusuke still felt the same, even when his son dove into a pile of clean clothes just to be warm.

Turning his attention back to Asahi, Yuusuke chuckled seeing the younger redhead staring at the older.

“But I am clean, dad,” Asahi argued and Kurama quirked a brow, leaning against the arm of his chair.

“Yes, but not ‘out of the dryer’ clean.”

Before they could delve into a verbal sparring match, Yuusuke intervened. Laying Tsubaki down on one end of the couch, he freed his hands to lift Asahi out of the basket, not minding his pouting and squirming. Swooping him in close, Yuusuke nudged his nose against Asahi’s own. The pouting ceasing almost immediately and a sunny smile wormed its way past his surly expression, soft giggling as Yuusuke peppered his cheek with kisses before plopping him in Kurama’s lap.

Vendetta between older and younger immediately forgotten as Kurama wrapped his arms around Asahi, practically dwarfing him with his larger frame. Asahi didn’t seem to mind, always happy to cuddle to one of his fathers, and happier when he had a wider view of the world.

His smile impossibly bright, legs wiggling a bit with socked feet narrowly reaching the screen of Kurama’s laptop until Yuusuke eased it out of the way. Sharing a look with Kurama and giving him a kiss upon his head as Asahi finally made himself comfortable.

“… Okay daddy, I don’t wanna lay in there anymore,” Asahi kindly informed Yuusuke, the former detective shaking his head.

“Good to know.”

Pulling down a blanket from the back of the couch, Yuusuke tucked it around Tsubaki, carefully scratching behind her ear and listening to the soft mumbling as she curled into a ball. Her tail tucked close to her and ears pressing back against her head, tiny nails sharpened to claws and twitching. She might have been dreaming about running through Makai again. Yuusuke making a mental note to have another camping trip with the kids on the weekend. Kurama wouldn’t have to work and he could ask Keiko to take over the shop for a little.

He’d have to bribe her with a little something from Makai but it was worth it. And it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have gotten her anything anyway.

Setting to the task of folding clothes, Yuusuke was acutely aware of the conversation going on behind him.

“Dad…?” Asahi asked in the soft curious tone he used when he was on the verge of asking for something.

Kurama didn’t respond for a second but the clicking of his keyboard slowed. “Yes, little one?”

“Can you move over there?”

Yuusuke arched a brow, glancing over his shoulder long enough to see where Asahi was pointing. Kurama looked as well and smiled, nodding to Asahi’s request.

“Of course.”

Asahi brightened up immediately, hopping down from Kurama’s lap and waiting until he moved to the other side of the living room, sitting down in front of the television with his laptop in hand. It took a moment for him to settle and he leant back against the low table, but Asahi waited patiently, picking up the controller left upside down by the console. After Kurama settled, Asahi leapt into his lap and made himself comfortable, cuddling close to him and picking up his controller. Unabashedly resuming his game as Kurama fiddled with a new set-up for his laptop while allowing his son to sit in his lap.

Yuusuke snorted, pairing together some of Asahi’s socks as he asked teasingly. “Did you really just ask your dad to move so you could sit comfortable?”

Looking over his shoulder amusedly, he saw Asahi peek from around Kurama’s arm with a sheepish smile.

“… Maybe?”

Yuusuke sighed. Well, there was no harm in it. Kurama seemed comfortable where he was and settled into his work just as easily as he did in his own chair. Asahi returning to his game and the quiet evening rolling on until Tsubaki started to make small noises in her sleep. Upset whimpering and sniffling, a signal that she was going to cry before she woke.

“Ah, hell…” Yuusuke cursed under his breath, dropping the t-shirt in hand.

From behind, Asahi called. “Language, daddy,” at the same time that Kurama muttered absentmindedly, “Language, Yuusuke.”

Yuusuke rolled his eyes. Like father, like son. Reaching down to ease the blanket from her tiny fists, Yuusuke tucked his arms around Tsubaki and cradled her close to his chest. Grateful that he wasn’t wearing a shirt as his youki wrapped around her. Skin-to-skin contact, as Shiori put it, worked wonders.

Gradually, her whimpering and warning cries eased into soft grunts and sniffling. Her eyes slowly opening and peering around the room. Golden and glistening with unshed tears, she peered up at Yuusuke and his heart melted. It was hard to hear her crying although he knew at times it was for no reason, he’d do anything to make her feel better. Pressing a few kisses to her crown and muttering softly against her skin.

“There we go. See? It’s just me…”

Tsubaki folded into him, clinging to the longer strands of hair brushing against the back of his neck. A wince barely visible when she tugged a little harder than he liked. He’d have to ask Shizuru to cut it for him again. Nudging the basket to one side, Yuusuke sat at one end of the couch and tucked Tsubaki against him.

“Just me, kiddo.. It’s just me.”

“Why’s Tsu crying?”

Yuusuke glanced up in time to see Asahi’s concerned look, the 8-bit music completely ignored as his character plummeted into the abyss. Most kids would’ve been a little miffed at losing a game but Asahi’s attention wasn’t most kids and his attention was solely on his sister when she was in distress. It was one of the things Yuusuke loved most about him. Asahi took to being an older brother like a fish in water, and helped out tremendously. It was a little jarring at times how one of them would try to complete a task only to find it done, albeit at times sloppily, but practice made perfect and Asahi gave it his all where Tsubaki was concerned.

“She’s still little,” Yuusuke explained. “She gets a bit fussy when she wakes up and isn’ sure what’s going on.” Seeing his confused expression, Yuusuke decided to try a different approach. “When you’re really small, all you wanna do is be warm, safe, fed, and loved.”

That seemed to do the trick. Realization forming as Asahi’s mouth formed an almost perfect circle, his head bobbing. “So… when you get older, y’don’t wanna do that anymore?”

Yuusuke shook his head. “Mm… when you’re older, you start wanting to do more stuff. Like me. Doing chores, looking after your sister, talking to you. Doing stuff like that makes me happy.”

Asahi seems skeptical at that, squinting at him. “… You’re happy doing chores?”

Ah, maybe his kids picked up on the lost love between him and chores after all. “Well, not really. But I’m happy giving your dad a break, and lettin’ you run around and your sister sleep.” He chanced a glance down at Tsubaki, hearing her sniffling subside and her soft sighs as he rocked her back and forth. “That stuff makes me happy, so I do chores.”

“Oh…”

Yuusuke figured the conversation would end with that until he heard soft footsteps and a small quiet voice ask, “Can I help?”

He arched a brow, seeing Asahi pointing at the basket and staring spat him. While he had no doubt that Asahi would fold some of them wrong, it was an easy mistake to rectify. Though it did surprise him.When he was a kid, he didn’t take to doing chores very well, but he was also rebellious in many ways. Part of him thought his kids would pick up the same mannerisms but he’d been surprised thus far.

“Yeah,” Yuusuke said, giving him a smile. “Thanks.”

Tsubaki steadily roused from sleep and once she was entirely awake, she insisted on helping as well. Yuusuke never thought that showing his kids how to fold a shirt would be fun but it was hilarious seeing them do it and attempt to copy him. A wave of affectionate youki pressing against his back while he laughed at Asahi’s attempt to be a ghost beneath a sheet, Tsubaki’s shrieks of laughter bringing a smile to Yuusuke’s face while Asahi chased her around the living room.

Feeling the wave wash over him with familiar warmth, Yuusuke glanced toward Kurama who smiled at him. A look of fondness in his eyes that was returned almost immediately. Damn, he really was getting soft.

Eventually, the kids wound down and the laundry was neatly folded and placed in the basket to be tucked away in the correct drawers later. Asahi climbing up on the couch and nestling close to Yuusuke’s side while Tsubaki curled up on his chest, both succumbing to an afternoon sleep spell. Tucking a blanket over the pair, Yuusuke hugged them close to him and settled down with his back pressed to the couch cushions. His eyes slowly slipping shut down and again until he felt a weight beside him, a deep voice speaking close to his ear.

“You are very good with them, Yuusuke.”

Opening one eye to glimpse Kurama smiling happily, Yuusuke sighed in return and shifted to allow Kurama to take most of his weight. “You really think so?”

He doubted Kurama would say it without meaning it but it meant a lot to hear his answering hum. Strong arms fitting around Yuusuke’s own, careful fingers gliding over Tsubaki’s cheek and the tips of her ears, the pair twitching as Kurama pulled his hand away. Asahi cuddled closer to Yuusuke’s side, sighing softly when Kurama combed his fingers through his hair.

“Did you ever imagine being a father?” Kurama asked after a moment, his hand resting on Yuusuke’s upper arm, rubbing small soothing circles.

Yuusuke snorted harshly. “Hell no. I barely imagined making it past fourteen. Didn’ even have a dad… seeing them, makes me wonder how the hell someone can just… leave it all behind.”

“I can’t fathom it either.”

Kurama’s hand squeezed his upper arm, a warm strong hand that could be just as gentle and nurturing as it could be forceful, tenderly coming to rest against Yuusuke’s shoulder. Kurama’s chin resting against his shoulder. Yuusuke sighed. He knew that things in Makai weren’t as picturesque. Kurama was one of the lucky ones, with a mother that loved him to pieces and an unbelievable father-figure. But others of his kind were seldom abandoned, as was tradition. Grow strong or die. And Yuusuke balked when Kurama mentioned it, though seeing the indignation at his kind’s tradition and ferocity in which Kurama threw himself into being a father — Yuusuke knew he wasn’t in this alone.

“They’re tiny people with big emotions,” Yuusuke muttered offhandedly, finding the filter between his head and his mouth loosening more than usual. “Half the time, adults were always telling me to shut up and sit down when I just wanted to know. Asahi’s every bit of curious as I was and I’d tear someone apart if they treated him like people did me.”

There was always that balancing act. Not wanting to repeat what was done to him but also not wanting to do his kids a disservice. Even if he didn’t have a father of his own, Yuusuke had plenty of father-figures, some less perfect than others, but he’d do the damn best he could for his own.

“As would I,” Kurama said and Yuusuke snorted.

“Oh I know you would, Mister Threaten-A-Plant.”

Kurama gave a one-shoulder shrug, grinning playfully as he nuzzled against Yuusuke’s cheek. A habit that Yuusuke had gotten very used to over the years. “I protect my kits,” Kurama muttered, brushing his lips against his skin.

“Yeah? Well, your kits aren’t slouches. Asahi nearly knocked someone’s head in when they almost made Tsubaki cry.”

Kurama chuckled, pride in his laugh and the glint of gold in his eyes as he regarded their son. “He’s quite protective over his sister.”

“Almost puts Hiei to shame.”

Their conversation lulled into silence and Yuusuke noticed Kurama’s hair slipping over his shoulder as he relaxed. His breathing evening out and one of his hands resting upon Tsubaki’s back where Asahi’s had also fallen. One hand, larger and calloused. The other, smaller and still growing. Yuusuke wasn’t sure what kind of person his son would grow up to be but with Kurama by his side, he was more than optimistic about finding out.

“… You sleepy too?” Yuusuke asked after a short while.

Kurama quietly mumbling. “Comfortable..”

“Right, right, my bad…” Yuusuke chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Kurama was always cuddly when he was tired.

Slowly, Kurama opened his eyes and green met brown, his smile warm. “.. Thank you for taking care of the laundry.”

Yuusuke’s heart fluttered, his lips meeting Kurama’s in a chaste kiss before he leant against him. “Anytime.”

[ladymelissaduthe]

Challenge #1.75

Aka The Greenhouse RP with Jackson (Day Mode)

a/n: this is by far my fav fic so far JKDSNKDJK also I really just want this out because,,, reasons YEETHAW 

Thank you Bri @jackson-graham​ for this RP and Jackson, the sweetest bean around. (I love him, okay????) Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as I’ve enjoyed writing this one. (3696 words) 

I really love plants, most especially flowers.

Plants always brightened up a room whenever you placed them by a windowsill.

All they ask is a little tender love and care, some water, and some sunlight.

Plants also didn’t typically weren’t around secret passageways in full blown dark mode.

It was safe to say that after getting trapped in that one secret hallway in the palace, I was going to avoid the library for a little while to make sure I didn’t end up in another precarious situation, only this time with no one to really help me.

That’s probably why I liked the palace’s greenhouse among all the places here, more than the palace gardens themselves.

It was bright, but not too hot. The surrounding greenery kept the greenhouse cool enough to lounge around in. It reminded me of my own garden back in Orleans, except it was probably twenty times larger. My favorite part about it was that no one else frequented it. I guess people preferred the palace air conditioning.

It was nice to walk around the greenhouse and be one with the greens, maybe soak in the sunlight just for a while and feel it warm my skin. Vegans have to photosynthesize somehow.

As usual the main entrance was open. The light hum of some watering system the palace filling the room. The west side of the greenhouse was full of vegetables and easy to grow fruits: tomatoes, eggplants, raspberries…

Sometimes I was tempted to pick some from their stems and sneak some of the flowering citrus plants here. Angeles was hot enough to grow those kinds of fruits, just like Orleans really.

The east side was mostly flowering plants aside from a bit of extra aesthetic weeds. I had a feeling that the gardeners here grew some of the flowers here before moving them to other spots in the main garden. There were occasionally patches of flowers that would be empty the next day, probably relocated to somewhere else on the grounds.

My eyes scan through the kinds of flowers. They kept a lot of flowers I was familiar with, actually. Floral arrangements were a regular aspect of my job back home, if not something I loved to do.

I got secondhand butterflies every time a bride asked me to help piece together her bouquet, or whenever I would go to my flower supplier and see the fields and varieties of flowers they have got. The options were always lovely, no matter the season.

A lot of flowers grew around these parts. Roses, veronicas, lavender, dahlias, daisies, hydrangeas. I wonder if the palace kept sunflowers.

Oh, a chunk of the gardenias were gone. I wonder where they were moved.

I could barely make it out, but there was some movement close to the dahlias.

Maybe it was a gardener who could help me figure out where the gardenias had moved.

I walk towards the dahlia section to investigate, stopping right in my tracks when I get a better view.

“Oh, well good afternoon.” I say before I feel my foot go behind mine in a quick dip.

The other person pops up from where they were half hidden by a couple of taller plants.

Dark hair, nice eyebrows, and a warm smile.

Jackson Graham…. with a couple of flowers in his gloved hand.

“Good afternoon, Missy.”

“Hello, Jackson.” I smile at him, still eyeing the flowers in his hand.

Dahlias. Lisianthus, and Roses. Boy’s got some good taste.

I gesture to the bunch.

“Pretty bunch of flowers you’ve got over there.” I lift an eyebrow. “Special Occasion? A date?”

A short laugh comes from Jackson.

“No. No, not a date.” He holds up the flowers in his gloved hands, “My mom’s birthday.”

Wow. You don’t typically see a boy making a bouquet from scratch. I feel a smile creeping on my lips.  

“Oh, that’s so sweet.” I look over the flowers in his hands, curling my lips in. They were all focal flowers. I hope he wasn’t going to pick another huge flower to add to it, that would be a shame. He needed some greenery, some lines, some verticals to fill in the gaps.

“If that’s the case, mind if I make a suggestion?” I ask, impulsively wanting to help piece a bouquet together. It was one of those little things I missed about my job back at home.

“Um,” he looks down at the flowers for a second before looking up. “Sure. Why not?”

GREAT. I saw some line flowers close to the lavenders. I put my hands behind my back, looking for some nice line flowers.

I couldn’t help it, a part of me was itching to do something I used to do back home; and well, it looked like planning a wedding wasn’t exactly on the list. Floral arrangements, well—that was something close enough.

“I’m not being too intrusive, am I?”  

He shakes his head. I really hope he didn’t mind me wanting to help.

“Not at all. I think if anyone knows about bouquets, it’s you.” A smile seems to grow on his face.

I laugh lightly, shaking my own head.

“Actually, most of the time, I don’t pick the bouquets.” I lift a shoulder up. “I just make… friendly suggestions.”

Friendly suggestions. Mama taught me to use that word when brides were two steps away from making some tacky choice. Thankfully, the clients I had usually asked me what I thought looked great or what was in style for the season. Friendly suggestions.

“Right, friendly suggestions.” Jackson chuckles softly before raising a brow, “I’m guessing they always take them.”

I consider it for a bit, bobbling my head still determined to find the perfect line flower.

“They do, but you’ll be surprised by the number of brides that still want their perfect Pinterest board weddings.” I muse before laughing ever so slightly at a few memories of how great a wedding they wanted on a specific budget.

“Happiest day of their lives is almost a paradox.” He says, and I catch him smiling to himself before he looks away.

“It’s my job to make them feel like they’re not stressed out,” I lift a shoulder, looking around the greenhouse before I catch the perfect addition by my feet.

“Aha! Found you.” I crouch down, making sure not to topple over in my platforms, inspecting the patch if they were fully grown. “Astilbe.”

False goat’s beard. Not the prettiest alternative name, but the flower was perfect to compliment the dahlias in Jackson’s hand. It also helped give some fullness to the bouquet.

I feel Jackson peek over my shoulder, “Looks nice.”

“They’re just filler flowers.” I look to him, holding a hand out for the scissors he was holding in his other hand. “You’ve picked out some real nice focal flowers though, just needs a little…” I wave a hand in the air, “jzhusing up to really make it pop.”

“Jzhushing?” I see the corner of his mouth tilt up as he offers me the scissors.

“Yes. Jzhushing. The difference of something that’s good and something that’s great.” I explain, giving him the explanation my Grammy used on me when I was a kid. That little something you add to make it extra special.

I snip at the stems, making sure not to destroy them, then standing up to hand it to Jackson to add to the bunch. “Jzhushing up.”

Jackson’s smile suddenly widens as I give him the stems. I hope he thought they were a good addition and smiling for the sake of just being nice.

“Any more suggestions on how to give my mom the best for her birthday?”

Well, he sounded genuine….

I place a hand on my chin, tapping it lightly. How else could I make this look even better?

“Dahlia, lisianthus, and roses are the focal, astilbe for the filler,” I blink, trying to figure the kind of flowers I could still help add. “You just need a line flower and some greenery, and you’re good to go.”

Jackson’s head turns slightly, giving me a half squinting side glance.

“Line flower.” He looks a bit amused. “You lost me.”

My smile tilts, right… it sounds kind of crazy without the explanations. “A tall flower, it’s meant to dictate the shape and height of the arrangement… or something like that.” My hand rises up slightly to make a gesture of height.

He seems to understand the term now. “The more extravagant for my mom, the better.” The amused look on his face doesn’t leave as he starts to arrange the Astilbes I gave him into the bunch.

“I’ll make sure that your mom’s bouquet turns out great.” I assure him, looking around the greenhouse for any line flowers and making my way around. I was determined to give him something pretty for his mom. I still thought that this was a sweet gesture. “Jumping off the effort you’re putting into this, I suppose you two are close?”

I hear his footsteps from behind me as he answers, “More or less. I still like to give her what I can regardless of that. What about you?”

“Me and my mother?” I bobble my head, my eyes still scanning the greenhouse. The answer way too easy. “She’s like my best friend.” I laugh. “It’s kind of weird for most people, but,” a giggle escapes me. “That’s what happens when you see her at work almost every single day.”

In all honesty, my mother didn’t feel like my mother. She had me when she was 17, and being pretty young… well… it felt like the two of us grew up around the same ages. At least Grammy was the mother figure we both needed.

“Family business.” There’s a half smile on his face. “Did it start with your mother?”

I shake my head at that. Knowing the humble beginnings of Duthé Debuts and Weddings. “Grandmother, actually. Grammy started it when my mom and dad got married.”  

Grammy loved the idea of planning my parent’s wedding, young as they were. “First wedding she ever planned was in her very own backyard.”

My parent’s wedding.

“Quite the origin.” His focus shifts to one of the flower stems, picking at a small dead leaf. “Did you always want to follow in their footsteps?”

The answer to this was easy.

“For as long as I could remember.” I laugh. “I mean it’s all I’ve ever really know, ya know? Baking’s fun and all but it’s more of my dad’s thing, and well—someone needed to take over the business eventually.”

Oh wow, that sounded like I didn’t have a choice into this. In all honesty, Grammy and Mama wouldn’t have minded if I didn’t join the family business. It just so happened that I loved it anyway. Who couldn’t say no to planning weddings without having to actually getting married?

“No complaints though, I love my job.” I glance back to him, clarifying how happy my job actually made me.

He looks back up to me, giving me a curious look. “What’s your favorite part of the job?”

Another easy question.

“When the groom sees the bride for the first time in her wedding dress, hands down, no question.” I raise both of my hands to make a point. There was no arguing about that one single moment. “That part makes me cry inside a little every time.” I laugh at the memories of me holding one of my fellow coordinator’s hands whenever that moment happens, again: secondhand butterflies.

“What about you?” I ask, blinking for a second. Oh gosh, I think I forgot what exactly Jackson did. “Uh, I’m sorry… I… forgot your job.” I think I just wanted to dive into a bunch of plants from the embarrassment, but I settled for covering part of my face instead. I know we talked about this before in the kitchen. I know it was happy… it had something to do with animals.

He chuckles, shaking his head. Okay he didn’t look offended, thank God.

“It’s alright.” He clears his throat. “I work at an animal shelter. I start veterinary school in the fall.”

“Oh right, the just as happy job choice!” I chuckle to myself, “Saving little critters and treating them. I’m sorry, it’s hard remembering everything about everyone I’ve met here so far.” Sometimes I felt overwhelmed by it all, but that was a welcomed problem. To be surrounded by so many interesting people.

I blink once, bringing myself back to my conversation with Jackson. “So are you taking up any specializations in vet school?”

“You know, I’m still undecided actually.” He hums for a bit. “You’re the first person who’s asked me that in a while.” A breathy chuckle escapes him before he looks down at the flowers again.

“Well, it’s something to always keep in mind.” I bobble my head. “You still have a lot of time to decide, no rush amirite?”

“Not at all.” Jackson looks back up at me. “How’s the first couple weeks been?”

My eyes still try to search the greenhouse for the right line flowers, when he asks that.

“I don’t really have the right words to describe it.” I turn to look to him. “Exciting but also nerve-wracking? Informative but also a bit of an overload?” I feel myself curl my lips in. “Comfortable but also not?”

To be honest, living in the palace as Selected… was a paradox. I did quite like being called Lady Melissa Duthé, had a nice ring to it.

But oh boy, the whole living in the public eye, just waiting for Prince Arin to take me out on a date… that didn’t feel… nice.

Only adds to the amount of people I needed to keep on impressing.

“I think you’ve perfectly encapsulated what it’s like to be a royal.” I laugh at that. He smiles briefly before taking a seat on a nearby ledge. “Not that I would know completely. Mostly observed.”

“Have you and Arin really been friends since you were kids?” I ask, multitasking as a particular patch of greens catch my eye, making myself crouch down to get a better look.

“Pretty much. Though it’s Safiya who I was always a bit closer to when she could be torn away from my sister.” He seems to speak fondly about them, before he blinks and stands up straighter than he was a while ago.

“Your sister and the princess seem… close too.” I reach up and tuck some of my hair behind my ear. The princess and Felicity seemed close indeed based on our etiquette lesson from day 1 here in the palace.

My eyes catch a patch of Veronicas and I shuffle over to the nearby patch, and look up to Jackson. “Do you think these would do? These are Veronicas if I’m not mistaken.”

He looks over to the patch and nods quickly. “Yes. They look nice.” He reaches up to rub his nape before glancing away.

Why… was he… acting like that? Was it because of Felicity?

“I can imagine it might be odd. What with… Felicity.” Jackson then adds quietly.

I shrug, “Oh please, engagements are broken all the time.”

I take the pair of scissors and start snipping at the Veronicas, my hand then moving over to a nearby patch of silver dollars.

Engagements are broken all the time? Great observation, Melissa.

“Better to break it off earlier than,” I continue with a snip of veronicas and silver dollars, “after you’ve married someone. Now that’s messy.” I snip again at the flowers. Divorce. That indeed was the messier circumstance.

“I suppose that line of thinking is… efficient.”

“Well, being in the wedding industry makes you realize certain things.” I lift a shoulder, thinking about it. “If I had a bride or groom express doubts about marriage, typical action is to make sure that they’re still committed.”

God forbid that I have to see another bride walk down the aisle and watch a groom leave her standing alone at the altar. Never again.

I stand and hand over the new bunch of greens and flowers to Jackson.

Jackson’s eyebrows raise, taking the flowers. “Does that happen often?”

“Not too often,” I meet his eyes, “it just happens and I’d rather help make sure that there isn’t much long term damage.”  If I were interested in the long term damage, I would have studied to become a Divorce lawyer. Now that would be ironic.

I click my tongue, the conversation topic digging a pit in my stomach. I didn’t want to talk about this anymore, or think about it.

“Most of the time, people reach the altar on my watch.” I point to the bouquet. “Does this look good enough for your mom?”

It just needed to be arranged a little more. Maybe I could convince him to let me just.. make… some adjustments.

Jackson lifts the bunch up, and higher to his nose to smell them. He flashes me one of those sincere smiles. “They’re beautiful. Thank you, it’s greatly appreciated.”

He glances around for a few moments, and walking over to a nearby bush of flowers, ones I didn’t quick recognize. I watch him as he bends to gently pluck one and walk back and hold it out to me.

“I know you gave me flowers, so here’s one for you. As a thanks.”

For a moment, I just stand there and look at the flower. It was definitely different from the ones he gave me. It was pretty.

I smile, taking the flower. “That’s mighty gentlemanly of you.” I laugh. “I just gave you a bunch of glorified decorative weeds.”

He laughs deeply, his eyes closing for a moment. “What my mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

It was quite the adorable look on his face.

“Well,” I tilt my head and look away, not sure why I did before looking back to him and use the flower in my hand to point at the bouquet in his hand, I’ve outdone myself with this one. “at least it’s pretty. I hope she likes it.”

Jackson smiles before saying, “I’ll send you a thank you note if she does. If not, well, maybe you’ll get a weed.”

I shake my head at that, “No need to send me a thank you note, ooooor,” I lift a brow, “a weed.”

I look at it for a quick second before adding, “This was more your work than mine really. You might wanna wrap the bouquet in some paper and ribbon. Might help with the final presentation.” I give him a bright smile.

He nods his head once before starting to tug off his gloves and setting them on a table filled with other things. He then turns to me with knit brows.

“I think I forgot to ask why you came here.”

“I come here whenever I can.” I explain, my eyes scanning through the greenhouse. “I used to garden a lot back in Orleans and well, this greenhouse definitely is a lot better than what I had before back home. It’s a nice place to breathe and get out of that Women’s Room they usually ask us to stay in.”

“Do you actually garden here? Or is it more of sit and observe activity?” He asks, as I watch him take some string to tie all the stems together.

A part of me wishes I could garden in a place like this.

“Sit and observe, mostly. Can’t quite get my hands dirty over here, or well dresses like this.” I gesture to my dress, a light yellow number for today, before continuing. “Sometimes I’d find flowers that have fallen and press them into some old books. It’s a nice little routine.”

I don’t think I’ve told anyone that before.

“If you haven’t seen it already, I recommended a bench near the east corner.” Jackson gestures to the east side of the greenhouse. “Near the hydrangeas. Pretty secluded view of the gardens, especially near the sunset. I think you’ll enjoy it.” A small smile appears on his face, shifting to hold the bouquet with both of his hands.

“Thank you.” I look over to the east corner of the greenhouse, feeling myself smile while my hands fiddled with the flower Jackson gave me. I think I knew the spot he meant.

“I’ll take your word on that.” I add before my eyes fall back on Jackson and the bouquet, one of the pieces was sticking out and hanging dangerously. My hand reaches out to help fix it for him.

Jackson doesn’t look down immediately, looking slightly confused before a sheepish look ghosts his features. “I guess I should be more careful.”

“Wouldn’t want that to fall.” I can’t help but laugh before pulling my hand away. “It’d be a shame if it fell off while you were moving.” I put my hands behind my back, still fiddling with the flower Jackson gave me. I look around, the daylight having already started to fade.

It must be close to dinner time. I needed to retouch my make up, I needed to maybe change my dress. I must have gotten a bit of it slightly dirty.

“I guess it’s time for me to take my leave. I have to fix myself up for dinner.” I say before lifting up the flower, “Thank you again for this.”

“Sure.” A crooked smile forms on his face. “I um, I should be leaving for home. I have a delivery, thanks to you.”

“Be safe going home. It was nice talking to you again.” I remark, giving him a small wave with my free hand. I then take my leave towards the exit of the greenhouse, adding while I leave, “Give your mom my regards!”

“I will.” I hear Jackson say, catching him wave, a smile on his face from the corner of my eye.

As I walk back to my room, my eyes look down on the flower Jackson gave me.

I raise it up to my nose and smile.

I loved flowers.

[workingonit-currently]

(Title Pending)

Part 3: Actual part 2

Waking up early wasn't something Damien expected to do, having continually slept-in every day since arriving. (Excluding when Wes woke him up on the first day.)

So let's just say he was a mess when he forced himself to wake up at the insane time of ten in the morning, just to test the fresh-meat. He wasn't planning on actually interacting with Boze, the new girl, but like the saying goes, Curiosity killed the cat. Damien knew this wasn't the full saying but as he rubs his eyes he can't be bothered to put a sensable reason behind his action yesterday.

"Really fucked up..." He mutters as he brushes his teeth and looks at himself in the mirror. The person reflected doesn't look like what Damien would have expected to see a year or so ago. His eyes are dull and there's subtle bags under his eyes which perfectly compliment his messed up hair.

"Guess I really can't live without you Shayne, I'm starting to look like a rotting corpse myself..." Damien jokes as he remembers his best friend and tries to make a joke as if Shayne would high-five him for it. In all seriousness I miss you Shayne...

.

Damien puts on headphones and struts with his head and hood down towards the clubhouse, his usual hang out. He ignores Wes's wave, Joven's greeting and death-glares everyone who steps into his five-foot personal bubble of space.

He doesn't feel good, like always and simply is trying to keep himself awake and motivated enough to survive the day but the joke and memories of Shayne have opened a small crack in the wall Damien put up around his memories of Shayne and not they're effecting him. So Damien finds himself actually smiling and enjoying himself as he walks, listening to one of the many songs he and Shayne loved and listened to together.

Remembering the many times Shayne suprised him by invading his house, much to the delight of his mum and stress of younger Damien, he can't help but smile. Little did young Damien know that that was Shayne's way of trying to break through his shell, showing he cared and was always there. Only now does Damien realise that fact, a little to late.

Damien still smiles despite that thought as the memory of him and Shayne lying with one earbud in on the floor of his room comes to him. He also lightly huffs as he remembers that young Damien was such a dork that he would stick Continents, stars, famous people and poems on his room's ceiling just so Shayne and he would have something to talk about and laugh at.

Every once in a while they'd turn off the music and do impressions of the famous people, Shayne most of the time beating Damien. I'm suprised he still wanted to do that after the twelfth time he beat me, though I guess if he didn't I wouldn't be as good at imitating voices as I am today. Just another thing to thank you for Shayne.

Damien knows his stupid reminiscing is useless, it can't bring back Shayne and all it does is make him depressed, but sometimes it's better to live in the past where it's perfect, than living in the present where everything sucks. Damien thinks this is true. He honestly thinks it's true...Until he stays in the past too long and struts into the clubhouse door, having completely forgot he was walking.

Hoping with all his heart that no one saw that Damien slowly opens the clubhouse's door and slips inside, the light off and the smell familiar. Although Damien likes the dark he can't help but sigh as he sees the clubhouse, this seems like a place he and Shayne would love to explore together, it always does.

He pulls out the technological device most call a phone and starts texting people, mostly Wes and him mum. They're both the only people crazy enough to stick by him so Damien guesses it's their fault that they sometimes get random texts from him. Honestly his texting habits are sporadic.

He reminds his mum that he's still doing okay and reassures her that nothing is happening while also texting Wes about what he's missing out on in school. Wes has managed to keep him mostly up to date on everything so far with only a few slips bit that's to be expected, he's only human after all.

Damiens mum responds with love and support while Wes responds with childish teasing and joking, with the occasional hint of edge, so Damien thinks he has a good balance of everything he needs in his life.

Just as he goes to pull up a page he's been looking at on Necromancy a tapping at the window and multiples shouts and thuds draw his attention and forces him to put down his phone, knowing he won't need it. It's not exactly like the school would let paramedics in anyway.

What Damien sees is confusing at first, a weird sort of inhuman mass moving all it's multiple limbs at once. Damien then realises that's not the case upon closer inspection as the scene actually is a dark haired girl Damien knows as Grace, saddeling what looks to be Boze, the 'new girl', while about three other people do a variety of things such as kick Boze mostly in the face, grab Boze's hair, and shout at her. All in all it's quite a sight, especially for Damien who stays away from people so never gets to see this type of thing.

Looking at the four bullies he has to admire their teamwork, they're like a well oiled machine with how they go about things. Nodding his head and observing further Damien happens to glance at Boze's eyes who are staring at him and silently pleading him to do anything, to help her. Unfortunately, as it stands, Damien is not in the buissness of saving people at the moment, maybe if she did this later in the day.

So Damien shrugs and turns away, waving Boze goodbye.

.

Boze sees Damien shrug and walk away from the window, waving a cheeky goodbye as he dissapears from view and her breath catches in her throat, chest sinking and she feels herself loosing hope. She forgot how heartless teenagers could be.

"Looks like your new friend abandoned you, you really pick the wrong friends!" Grace teases as Boze feels her stomach get kicked and she takes a sharp breath in. They grabbed and attacked her suddenly as she was about to open the door to the clubhouse after seeing Damien enter.

"Yeah, literally everyone knows Logan's a wimp and Damien...well he's a slacker. A lazy bum with no morals and a disregard for rules." Another voice states, this one male but Boze can't pinpoint where it's coming from. Boze really wishes anyone would come and help, all she needs is a small opening and she can recover but as it it she has no chances to catch her breath before more beatings are thrown her way.

"Which, if you think about it, is actually pretty hot." States another male voice as the abuse stops and Boze feels the weight of Grace, that had been holding her down, dissappear. This gives her her chance to recover and take deep breaths in to deal with the pain.

Boze doesn't lift herself from the ground though and scrunches closed her eyes, too afraid of what she could meet. Despite this, her best efforts to not stand up, she finds herself rising in an upwards direction.

She doesn't rise thanks to her own legs though, she rises thanks to a strong arm lifting her up and bringing her to eye level. At this level she can open her eyes a sliver, seeing Grace and her three friends all shaking and standing still as statues, looking at the person who is holding her up with one arm who she dare not look at.

"You know it's not very nice to beat up a new person, also very unfair that you chose to go four against one. Mind if I join the new girls team? You know, even the odds?" The new person asks calmly as Boze opens her eyes completely and sees the silver haired boy she noted down yesterday. Drat! I still need to send in my report!

Grace and her gang don't move and the silver boys smiles, childish innocence present in everytging he's doing, as Boze tries to remember his name, she knows it began with a W...

"Or...It's a less fun option, but I could just not join in and the whole game you're playing could end?" The boy proposed and the group immediately nods before sprinting off, away from him. This is suspicious, especially for a group that a second ago seemed so comitted to geting revenge on her for making their leaders nose bleed, Boze thinks as she worries about this boy.

Boze sees the boy now turn his attention to her, smiling kindly as he slowly lowers her to the ground and makes sure she's not to hurt. Her right leg does sting and everything is in a mild state of pain but she can deal with it, it's nothing compared to some abuse she's had to take before.

"Hi. I'm Wesley. Are you okay?" He introduces and Boze remembers Logan called him Wes. She also remembers Logan reffering to him as a 'last resort' which is interesting because only now does she realise Damien said the same thing about him and looking at him now he doesn't seem all that imtimidating.

Nodding her head, despite its protests, and smiling, Boze gives a thumbs to Wes who seems unconvinced. Boze needs this boy to see her as a friend or someone who he wants and can get personally connected to and to do that she needs to be friendly for now.

"Are you sure? I can take you to the nurse?" Wes proposes as he looks at her whole body, which isn't hard as he's very much taller than her. Wes notes the dripping blood from her head, right leg and hand. He hates himself for not coming sooner, he feels like if he had just not decided to try and stuff that giant cookie in his mouth all at once this morning he could have been here sooner.

"Nah, I'm alright. I've been in worse shape than this, trust me." Boze explains simply, shrugging at Wes's conserns. He can understand trying to be strong but surely this level of injury deserves at least a tiny bit of consern.

"Still...Ummm...Where are you even going? School's that way." Wes explains, pointing back towards the school as he smiles, Boze would think he'd be less smiley as the badass kid in school.

"I'm not heading to school, at least not this morning. I'm going to go into the clubhouse to discuss something with a friend." Boze explains, trying not to cause alarm and not mention who she's meeting incase Damien and Wes have a bad relationship.

"Damien? Seriously?" Wes asks as he looks at the clubhouse and shrugs, "Suit yourself but feel free to also call me your friend."

Wes knows that he can't convince this new person to let him take her to the nurse but at least she's with someone mildly responsable who hopefully won't beat her up. Plus he's now sworn personally to help her any way he can.

Wes walks off with his hands in his pockets, of which he has way to many. The pockets Boze means. This leaves Boze to turn and head into the clubhouse, annoyed at Damien, her rage brimming over the edge of anger and into insanity.

.

"What. I knew you would heal." Damien casually states, making dramatic hand gestures and shaking off Boze's rage. He doesn't care, he has bigger fish to fry, but seeing her still fuming he adds, "All part of your Spark."

"And how did you know my Spark!?" Boze spits accusingly, hands still on her hips as she tries to stare down Damien who simply smiles in response.

"You're not the only one with access to the files, Officer." Damien remarks and laughs at her scared reaction, "Plus the blood sample one of my agents took wasn't too bad either. You can find a lot out from blood you know."

Boze's face of fear is replaced as she raises her eyebrow and tilts her head in confusion, "What agents? No one took my blood."

"Check again sweetheart, you just didn't see them taking your blood, they're ever so quick." Damien comments with a small smile, noticing her reluctance to step closer to him now.

"You know...I'm not evil or insane right?" Damien asks with a smirk as he observes Boze, feeling that she sees him as a threat or target now so he tries to ease her worried head.

"Really?" Boze sarcastically asks as she crosses her arms, staring at Damien, not believing him one bit.

"Yeah. It's actually interesting, most people see me as a slacker but you...you're now seeing me as a suspect. But for what exactly, I'll have to find out." Damien muses, running a hand through his hair and Boze notices a weird trick of the light, a part of his hair being slightly lighter than the rest and seeming a very dark blue instead of black.

"You don't think you're a suspect?" Boze enquires, making a mental note in her head to record her next conversation with Damien. It could prove useful since his talks with her are always 'interesting'.

"Yes, exactly! But I don't think you'll take my word for it so how about I try to prove it to you?" Damien offers and smiles calmly, making it seem like he's actually trustworthy.

Currently Boze is still very suspicious but she has to admit that having some help in finding things out in this school would be easier with someone who actually knows the school like Damien.

"Damien." Boze calls and Damien offers a small response of huh as he turns to pay attention to her, "You have yourself a deal."

Damien jumps on the balls of his feet before shaking her hand and swearing on it, letting go of her hand quickly before winking at her and going to walk off.

"What are you doing!? I thought you said you'd help me!" Boze accuses him as he walks off, making Damien turn around and smirk at her with pity.

"I'm going to alert my troops of the news, unless you don't want my agents helping us as well?"

Boze quickly shakes her head and apologises, "No! Sorry! I just wanted to get going on this case right now."

"Patience, Officer. We'll get our villain and then maybe you'll trust me enough to walk away from you without shouting." Damien teases before casually walking off towards a wooden home slightly above the others.

[prophetandprincess]

X X X X X X X

Thank you to everyone who has read any of my work this year. May 2019 be bright and full of happiness for you all!

Blood splattered onto Alex's face as she attempted to get air into her lungs, something heavy pressing down on her chest so that her ribs creaked from the strain. The cold pavement at her back was just as unyielding as the metal hand that was crushing her windpipe. James's blue eyes were dead, emotionless, as her hand came up and swung at his face, trying to snap him out of it, trying to make him bleed more, trying to stay alive. It was useless, he was far too strong, but it was human nature to struggle against death. Black dots started to cloud her vision and her limbs grew heavy.

Then the weight was gone from her chest and Alex took in a deep breath, which quickly turned into a series of coughs. As the dots cleared from her vision, Alex rolled onto her side to see Steve and James going head to head in some grimy back alley. The same alley where Markus had attacked her the year before. The two super soldiers were matching each other blow for powerful blow, neither showing any sign of hesitation as blood flew from their lips and fists. . Alex attempted to get her breath back, but the panic and crushed windpipe made it impossible. There was not enough air for her to to even scream at them to stop. Her muscles wouldn't listen to her brain's commands, making it impossible to get her legs underneath her. She needed to get one of the men to see reason, to stop this, but Steve and James kept splattering each other's blood on the brick walls and asphalt with a fierceness that scared her.

Steve. Steve would see reason if she snapped him out of this. He would figure out what to do. If only her damn lungs would work to call out to him. It seemed like years before she shailky got to her feet, the wall cold and slimy underneath her hand. She just needed to get to them before it was too late.

The sound of metal on metal brought Alex's attention back to the men as James wrenched the shield out of Steve's grasp. It was deftly tossed to his other hand as the metal hand lashed out again, punching right through Steve's chest. The blood stained the shining silver as James literally ripped out Steve's heart in front of Alex's eyes. "No!" Alex screamed as she sat straight up in her bed, panting, sweating, and shaking.

Alex's heart was pounding so hard that her sternum hurt and panic was clawing at her chest. She closed her eyes for a second, but then she saw Steve dying again. His blue eyes wide as his blood leaked out of a giant hole in his chest. Her eyes flew open and she scrambled for her phone, needing to call Steve and hear his voice. Something to tell her brain that he was actually okay.

The white numbers saying that it was four-thirty in the morning stopped Alex from making the call. Instead, she attempted to work through the grounding techniques that Sam had taught her. It took longer than it should have to get her heart rate under control. It felt as if she had run a marathon.

Five and a half hours of sleep were more than she had gotten recently, so Alex got out of bed. She threw the window open and sat on the window sill, the cool wind drying the sweat from her skin, and looked at the screen on her phone. The walls were very thick in this old building so she hoped that no one else was woken up by her dream. Honestly, the fact that she hadn't been slapped with a noise complaint was a bit of a miracle. Maybe everyone else in the building was taking sleeping pills. Perhaps she should join them in drugged out oblivion. If Alex called Sam, he'd be there within half an hour, if he was in the country. Yet, she didn't want to keep waking him up to babysit her. He had his own life. Instead, she closed the window, got dressed, and went running.

Alex let her mind go blank and just focused on the feeling of her feet on the pavement. It was almost an hour later when she realized that she had been sprinting, chest heaving painfully and sweating like a pig. By the time she stumbled back into the building, everything ached, and she didn't feel any better. A shower and breakfast helped a little, but as soon as it was normal human time, she texted Steve. He answered back almost immediately, but it didn't help the feeling in her chest. The rest of the week was a bit of a blur. Peter was friendly, but not overly forward or flirty, she started to learn her way around the computers at Stark Tower, and Russian continued to give her a pounding headache and anxiety. Monica kept Alex busy during the weekend, mostly because she could tell that there was something bothering Alex. That lead to them going to an ice cream social, three study sessions, and a sorority recruitment event. The vivid nightmares continued and Alex barely kept it together.

By the time her Friday Biochemistry class rolled around, her eyelids were permanently droopy. The last bits of summer had reared its head and it had become unbearably hot and it was so humid that even the flies weren't flying through the heavy air. Luckily, the science building was air conditioned so Alex could stay somewhat awake.

Professor Warren had become a little less hostile to her in the past week, even praising a few of her insights. However, he still took every opportunity to unjustly criticize Peter. Today he had asked Peter a complex question about RNA sequencing, which had not been covered yet. Alex tried to help him, but that just got a glare from the Processor before he verbally annihilated Peter.

"Miss Harper, if I could have a word with you," Professor Warren said at the end of class. The entire class turned to look at her. Alex ran through all the things that she could have done, but other than being told that she had already failed the class due to not staying awake, she couldn't come up with anything. It wasn't that Alex hadn't been in trouble before, but rarely did she have a problem in the academic setting. When she did, she knew exactly what she'd done.

The professor was writing something in a small journal when Alex made her way into the hall. He didn't look up right away. She danced from one foot to another, waiting for him to finish up and tell her what was going on. It gave her some time to study him up close. Professor Warren wasn't that much taller than she was, only a couple inches, with brown hair that was just starting to go grey. It was a little all over the place, but it seemed to fit with his standard professor outfit of a dress shirt, black suit pants, and loafers. There were some wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead, but she didn't look all that old. He might even be considered attractive in a silver fox type of way, if he hadn't been such an ass.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Alex said, worried that lab was going to start as she stood there, not wanting to get behind in another class.

"Miss Harper, yes. I was hoping that you would have come to office hours last week, especially considering who you have as a lab partner." The professor clicked his pen and slid it into his bag before looking up. "Have you gone online to look at your grade from the first assignment?"

"No, since they hadn't been returned in class, I figured that you were still grading them." Alex was completely confused. "Was there a problem with it or did we have an appointment that I've forgotten, Professor Warren?"

"While you did well in the technical aspect of the assignment, I did have to take off points. Nothing that is too horrible, but it is not a good trend to start for the first assignment of the year." Professor Warren pushed up his glasses as he studied her. "It's a pity, really, since you're obviously bright. That conversation we were having about biochemistry in relation to mental processes and genetic mutations proved that, though beyond the scope of this lecture. When I suggested we carry on that conversation, I assumed you would come by my office."

"Am...am I in trouble?" He really wasn't making any sense. She remembered the conversation he was referring to and in the moment he had sounded more like a rebuke and not an invitation to explore the topic further. The fact that her anxiety had hit critical levels when he mentioned her grade was not helping her follow the conversation.

"Trouble," Professor Warren's green eyes reminding her of a traffic light, bright and wide. "Miss Harper, why in the name of… why would you be in trouble?"

"Well…I…I'm not exactly sure. It's just, you pulled me out of lab and made it seem as if I was in trouble, maybe?" The normal edge was gone from Professor Warren's voice, which was throwing her off even more.

"I pulled you out of class to offer you an opportunity, not a reprimand." Professor Warren's lips tilted up slightly in what could have been considered a hint of a smile. "It's a special project that I'm working on, but it's massive in scope. I can't do it all alone. I think you'd be the perfect assistant, if you can stay awake, that is. I would provide extra credit to help with your grade, your name will appear in the published research, and you'll be compensated for travel."

"Travel? Professor, I'm sorry, but I feel like I came in during the middle of this conversation. What are you talking about?" Alex had this slick, cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know why, but something was setting off warning bells somewhere in her brain. It was more than the fact that she was barely keeping her life together without attempting to throw something else into the mix. Right now everything was a wobbly Jenga tower and it wouldn't take much for it all to come tumbling down.

"I don't have time to explain now, you are missing class after all." Professor Warren looked at his watch and huffed. "Come to my office hours and I'll give you more details. Have a good day, Miss Harper."

"What the hell just happened?" Alex asked the empty hallway before turning around and heading back into lab. Peter gave her a questioning look, but she just shrugged and focused on the lesson. It was hard to explain what happens when you had no idea yourself.

"Miss Harper," Jarvis greeted Alex as she got into the elevator and pressed the button to head up to the lab. "Glad to see you made it today. You're running a little late."

"I still have three minutes before I have to clock in, Jarvis. Please, don't try and shame me." Alex wiped sweat from her upper lip. She was drenched with sweat and had to change in the bathroom before interacting with other humans. It was September, wasn't it supposed to cold enough to wear a sweater? What the hell was this?

"You actually have one minute and forty-five seconds, Miss Harper, but I will do my best not to draw your attention to that fact." Jarvis's tone didn't change, but Alex was pretty sure he was being sarcastic. "I was told to inform you that Mr. Rogers wanted to speak with you. He has already been informed that you're in the building."

"I don't have time to see Mr. Rogers, Jarvis. As you pointed out, I'm already late." Alex muttered. Since the nightmare, Alex felt anxious at the thought of seeing Steve, even if he had news about James. If it was bad news, if James was dead, it might be the straw that broke the camel's back. God, she needed everything to stop for a moment.

"Should I tell him that you're busy?" Jarvis asked.

"No, just…let me get changed in the bathroom first? Also, tell Dr. Banner that I'm going to be late and send my apologies." Alex should have known that he wasn't going to stay away for long after she told him about the nightmare. She might as well get this over with...after she changed.

The bathroom tiles were deliciously cool against her bare feet as she stripped in one of the bathroom stalls. Normally, she would never be barefoot in a public restroom, but Stark Tower was meticulously clean. Alex attempted to tame her hair into something lab appropriate to go along with her black pants, lab shoes, and nice white blouse at the sink, but her hair wasn't cooperating. The brush crackled and snapped as she tugged it through her hair.

The door of the other stall opened and a startlingly attractive red head walked over to the other sink. Alex didn't pay her more attention than that, she didn't have the time.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Tony usually wears a ratty Black Sabbath t-shirt while he works," the other woman said as she washed her hands. "And Bruce, well, he's brilliant, but he misses things right in front of his face, both figuratively and literally. He isn't going to care what your hair looks like."

"Thanks for the tip, but it's more so the rest of the interns don't think I'm a human disaster," Alex's voice had an edge as she threw the brush into her backpack. Normally, she wouldn't have been so short with a woman she had just met, especially one who was dressed as if she worked behind a desk somewhere in the Tower, but she just wasn't in the mood to play nice today.

"I doubt any of them are better off than you are. First couple weeks for the interns are always the hardest." The redhead ignored the sharpness and dried her hands before offering one to Alex. "Natasha Romanoff, pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you. Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm just not been getting a lot of sleep recently and I'm running late."

Alex shook the hand out of reflex, her brain attempting to process what she had just been told. There wasn't a lot known about Natasha Romanoff, but there had been a lot of information about her on the web after the fall of SHIELD. The information about her profession and past missions had been taken down quickly, but it stated that she was an assassin of the highest degree. Alex had just snapped at the Black Widow. And she wondered how she kept getting into trouble.

"It's alright," Natasha said with another half-smile as they both headed out the door. "It's probably odd to get unsolicited advice in the women's room anyway."

"I've actually gotten some of the best life advice that way," Alex laughed.

"Alex," Steve pushed off the wall as she exited the bathroom. He looked better rested than the last time she saw him, but that lead to a number of mixed emotions. If he had found James, he would probably look haggard and sleep deprived, but on the other hand, she wanted him to be healthy and look after himself.

"Oh, you're that Alex?" Natasha asked behind her, which made Steve and Alex both blush a little. "That is very interesting."

"I promise you that it isn't all that interesting." Alex shot a look over at Steve before turning her attention back to Natasha. "We just met where I used to work and became friends."

"Friends?" Natasha's red lips tilted up as she looked over at Steve. "So, you check in on all your friends with such consistency? And wonder how she is doing while you're on missions and she's at home on her family farm? Steve, I didn't know you were such a conscientious friend."

"I'm late for work," Alex said quickly, feeling her cheeks get even hotter. "Steve can this wait until I'm done or is it urgent?"

"No, we can talk later. Why don't we grab some food when you're done?" Steve asked, completely unaware of the fact that it sounded as if he was asking her on a date. Natasha's smile only got wider.

"You know I never have food in my fridge," Alex couldn't win whether she accepted or denied Steve's invitation, so she decided to get a free meal out of her embarrassment. "I'll meet you in the lobby when I'm done."

"So, you know what her fridge looks like?" Natasha asked as Alex walked away. "How very…friendly of you."

"Nat, don't start," Steve said before the lab door cut off anything else he had to say.

Alex sighed inwardly. What happened to her? At one point she had been so smooth, getting everyone and everything she wanted with just a couple bats of her eyelashes and a smile. She had never blushing no matter what was said or whispered in her ear. Now, she was flustered all the time and fumbled over her words. Sleep deprivation was a bitch.

"Glad you could join us, Miss Harper," Dr. Banner said without the hint of sarcasm that Professor Warren had when he said it. "Set your stuff down and we'll get started."

"Sorry about being late. I didn't mean to keep you all waiting." Alex felt the other sixteen intern eyes on her and attempted to ignore it. "It won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it too much, things happen." Dr. Banner smiled before turning to address the whole lab again. "I know that some of you are still working on finishing the programming modules, please have that finished by the end of today. There are also task lists at each work table that you should start working through. Most of them are brushing you up on ideas and theories in a number of fields so that we all have the same vocabulary once we start collaborating. Alright, get to work."

Alex was one of the unlucky few who hadn't finished the programming modules, so she sat down at the computer and attempted to at least get through that. While Alex was a millennial, the most computer skills she had was formatting her MySpace page as a teen. Even with the provided instructions, it was all Greek to her. Part of her wanted to ask one of her fellow interns for help, but she was worried that they would see her as young, immature, and incompetent. There was also the added issue that she had set herself apart from the rest of the interns because both Tony Stark and Bruce Banner had addressed her directly, even though she had no control over that.

The next time Alex looked up, it was twilight outside and most of the interns were funneling out of the lab. After attempting the modules for the first hour, she had given up and moved to the other items on her task list. She finished about half, which was a great metaphor for her life.

"You look like you could use a break," Steve's voice came from the door of the lab. "More accurately, it looks like I need to tear you away before you're stuck here all night."

"I do believe I was promised food." Alex smiled over at Steve before logging off the computer and shrugged out of her lab coat. "Though, is it safe to be seen with me? I doubt Natasha is going to let you live it down if we're caught together."

"Nat is harmless, in that regard. Besides, she is so desperate to find me a date that she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it, including teasing me too much." Steve smiled, apparently finding the whole thing amusing.

"How are you still single? I mean, it's been a couple years since you've reintegrated and most people would be more than to take you, even with your unconventional history and profession." Alex toed out of her lab shoes, leaving them under her lab coat hook, and returning to her one dollar flip-flops.

"Are you confessing to me, Alex?" Steve laughed as they started walking down the hallway.

"I'm not most people," Alex laughed as they waited for the elevator. "Besides, you have no arrest record or tattoos, so you're obviously not my type."

"Well, I can hot wire a car and have killed people, so I think I might still have a chance," Steve pointed out with a wide and bright smile. In that moment he was the all American boy, but his words were also true. Steve Rogers had killed people. It was something that she really connected with Steve since he usually made her feel safe and comfortable.

"Now, to completely ruin my chances, you look exhausted," Steve asked as they stepped into the elevator. "Seeing me die really shake you up that much or something else going on?"

"It's just…I heard his voice and…" Alex trailed off and took a shaky breath. The moment she heard James's voice all the love, hurt, anxiety, and fear from the fall before came flooding back in an instant. Alex knew that she had a flare for the dramatics, but she could honestly say that she had never felt for someone that she felt for James. Of course it would be the one man that she couldn't have. That's karma for you.

"God, sometimes…sometimes I'm not sure that I remember what his voice sounds like." Steve tilted his head up slightly, but then looked over to Alex. "But let's talk about something a little happier."

It took her a few moments to realize that Steve was referring to the fact that Jarvis was listening to their conversation. She still wasn't used to the fact that someone was always listening to her in the Tower. Then again, if you believed the conspiracy theories, Big Brother is always listening and watching no matter where you were.

"Mr. Rogers, I hate to interrupt, but Miss Hill wants to speak to you as soon as possible, in her words." Jarvis broke in as if he picked up that they were avoiding speaking due to his presence.

"Did she say what it was about?" Steve did not sound overly pleased to be summoned, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes.

"There is a situation in South America that might need your attention. I really can't say more than that with Miss Harper present due to her lower security clearance," Jarvis almost sounded apologetic. Alex found herself starting to like Jarvis, which is weird seeing as he was a computer system. Proof being, she had started to think of Jarvis as a 'he' instead of an 'it'.

"Tell her that I'll be there in a couple minutes," Steve finally said as the elevator doors opened at the lobby.

"I'm starting to think you're manufacturing crisis to avoid spending time with me," Alex laughed as she started walking backward toward the door, which was easy since there was no one else in the lobby. "You're going to give me a complex."

"Rain check?" Steve gave her a sheepish smile as he moved back into the elevator.

"You know how to find me." Alex gave a little finger wave before heading out of Stark Tower.

On the way home, Alex realized just how disappointed it was to eat alone again. After avoiding Steve for about a week, she wished he hadn't been called into work. It wasn't that she wanted to be social, she didn't even know if she had the energy to be social, but she really didn't want to be alone. She called Sam, but it went right to voicemail. There was not even a hint of chill in the September air, but Alex felt cold in her bones. Hopefully, Monica wouldn't mind her moping about her apartment.

"Miss Harper, you look dead on your feet," Henry said as she entered the apartment building.

"It's been a very long day. Is Miss LeBlanc in, do you know?" Alex figured it was easier to ask Henry than go to Monica's floor, knock on the door, and then wait for another elevator to get to her floor. Alex had texted Monica as she was walking home, but hadn't received an answer. This wasn't unusual, Monica was a notoriously unreliable communicator, either getting back to you right away or seven hours later.

"Unfortunately, you just missed her. Is there something you need assistance with?" Henry asked, concern written all over his face.

"No, just wanted to sit around and talk, maybe drain a bottle of wine. Nothing earth shattering. Have a nice night, Henry." Alex gave him a wave before heading to the elevator.

As she let herself into the empty apartment, Alex made a valiant effort not to feel sorry for herself. It was nights like this that she wished she had a boyfriend, someone that was obligated to come and make her feel better. If she put her mind to it, it probably wouldn't even take her a week to snag some poor unfortunate soul, but it wouldn't be fair when her heart would still be with James. She was the definition of a wreck.

Instead, she heated up a couple Hotpockets that were lurking in her freezer and settled in to the nightly routine of doing homework until her eyes couldn't stay open any longer. By the time she crawled into bed, she prayed to get at least a couple hours of good sleep. God had a sense of humor because she got exactly two hours before dreams assaulted her, very vivid ones with James's voice so fresh in her memory. After waking up in tears, Alex dragged herself back to the couch and started researching memory coding once again.

The rest of the weekend wasn't any better and Monday was spent with Peter driving his pencil into various parts of her leg to keep her awake. Alex was grateful, even though she was going to have bruises, since she did not want to go to office hours with Professor Warren if he's berated her for sleeping in his class. It was obvious that she didn't have the time or the brain power for whatever project he wanted her to help him with, but from the glances he kept throwing at her, she didn't think he'd appreciate her just not showing up. Mentally, she promised herself a well-deserved nap if she could just get through this meeting and her internship.

"Professor Warren? You wanted to see me?" Alex called after knocking on the door, peeking around the door into his office.

"Miss Harper, yes, come in. Find a seat somewhere that isn't covered in materials, please," Professor Warren didn't even get to his feet when she came into the room, just waving his hand as he continued to read the papers on the desk in front of him.

It was a kind of organized chaos, not exactly messy, but definitely not neat. There were stacks of papers in neat piles by the bookcase and chairs along with books open to various pages on every other flat surface. Alex pushed the door almost closed before picking up the stack and setting it down next to the chair. Professor Warren didn't pay attention to any of this and finished the last page of the paper before looking up.

"Now, Miss Harper, it is a very easy assignment. You would just have to go and collect samples as well as run through a questionnaire I will provide you with the subject in question. It should only take a couple of hours a week and you'd be paid travelling expenses or given a car service, if needed." Professor Warren spoke quickly, as if he wanted to wrap up the meeting before it even started. "I would just need you to sign a couple forms and you could start as early as next week."

"Excuse me, Professor, but at the risk of sounding idiotic, what the he – what are you talking about?" Alex leaned forward as if physically getting closer to him would make the conversation suddenly make sense.

"What am I…?" Professor Warren blinked once before giving an exasperated sigh and leaned back in his hair, studying her for a moment. "I'm currently working on a case study about genetic mutations in a certain individual to be added to a larger paper I'm writing. The changes that have happened to his body are extraordinary. I have a number of lab experiments and background research that I have to do, I can't meet with him weekly to monitor his mental state and collect the skin samples. That's where you would come in."

"So, if I am understanding correctly, you want me to do a weekly questionnaire with this individual and collect samples, and you'll give me extra credit and compensate any travel expenses?" It sounded like a very cushy gig, so why pick her? Professor Warren had barely shown anything for Alex but disdain, so why help her out by giving her this? There were students who were probably smarter and he got along a lot better with.

"That is basically the assignment, yes." Professor Warren leaned forward and met her eyes. "You're wondering why I chose you."

"I'm not exactly a model student at the moment, which I apologize for, there have to be better options."

"Exactly, you aren't a model student, and the only one that needs extra credit so early in the semester. I also doubt that your lab partner, Mr. Parker, is going to help your grades any. You also seem as if it would take a lot to rattle you, which is also something I need. The environment that the interview will be conducted in is not…hospitable." Professor Warren's green eyes were almost glowing with intensity.

"Where would I be going exactly?" Alex didn't like the sound of having to go somewhere that normal students wouldn't want to go. True, in her youth, she had gone into bars where angels would fear to tread, but she was attempting to get away from all that. She was kind of failing, but she was trying and that had to count for something.

"The Ravencroft Institute." Professor Warren said the name briskly, as if to squash any objections.

It was a wasted effort as Alex had no idea what The Ravencroft Institute was, but the tone was enough to make the hair on her arms stand on edge. The word institute was what confused her as it could be anything from a boarding school to an inpatient mental health hospital. However, Professor Warren was kind of blackmailing her in terms of her grade, so what choice did she have? Russian was already going to put her GPA in jeopardy, she couldn't stress about another course as well.

Yet, Alex didn't have the time or the mental capability to take on another commitment. Not only that, but she really didn't know enough about this project to feel comfortable putting her name on it. Professor Warren spoke as if what Alex would be doing was just a small part of a much larger project. What was the rest of the research focused on? Did he have a whole list of genetically modified people throughout the world? What would that even look like and was it something she wanted to be involved in?

"Let me think about it, Professor?" Alex asked as she got to her feet, putting her bag up on her shoulder. "I already have so much going on. It sounds like a very interesting project, from the little that you've told me, but I just don't know…"

It wasn't a no, but it wasn't a yes either. Alex's anxiety over her grade just wouldn't let her turn him down outright. Also, having a paper about genetic mutation on her resume when it wasn't a field she had a lot of experience in would be tantalizing to possible future employers or PhD programs. The study also did sound interesting, people who survived through genetic mutations could teach a lot about medicine and the human body. It would be a great opportunity if she could find the time and willpower to do it.

"I understand, Miss Harper," Professor Warren was smiling as if she had just enthusiastically agreed to work for him. "I suggest you think the opportunity through thoroughly as well as quickly. It's not something that you would want to, or can really afford, to miss. I also believe you will find the individual who survived the genetic mutation very interesting, as it happened later in his life. It's a once in a lifetime experience. I want an answer by next week."

"Of course, I'll stop by your office hours next Monday." Alex was already moving toward the door. If she stayed, if she listened to him talk some more, she would agree to something that he said. Professor Warren had this magnetism about him that laid right underneath the surface. Maybe that was what it was about him that made her slightly uneasy.

"Close the door on the way out." Professor Warren had already dropped his head back to the papers in front of him.

The rebellious side of Alex wanted to say no at that moment because Professor Warren was acting as if she was going to say yes. There had always been something in her that wanted to defy expectations and do something completely unexpected. However, she was also getting a little aggravated because she was pretty sure she was going to say yes.

He was right, it was an opportunity that Alex couldn't pass up.

[need1etail]

Chapter One

Alderkit stood in front of the nursery, anxiously shifting his weight. He unsheathed his claws, digging them into the hard earth of the stone hollow, then sheathed them again to shake dust from his paws. Now what happens? he asked himself, his belly churning as he thought about his apprentice ceremony, which was only moments away. What if there’s some sort of assessment before I can be an apprentice?

Alderkit thought he had heard something about an assessment once, perhaps a few moons before Hollytuft, Fernsong, and Sorrelstripe had been made warriors. But I can’t really remember. He tried to focus on the memory, but couldn’t recall it. I was so little then. His heart started to pound faster and faster in his chest. He tried to convince himself that one of the warriors would have told him if he was supposed to prove that he was ready. Because I’m not sure that I am ready to be an apprentice. Not at all. What if I can’t do it.

Deep in his own thoughts, Alderkit jumped in surprise when a cat nudged him hard from behind. Spinning around, he recognized his sister, Sparkkit, her orange tabby fur bushing out in all directions. “Aren’t you excited?” she asked, bouncing with enthusiasm. “Don’t you want to know who your mentor will be?” Alderkit’s heart sank. He hadn’t thought about mentors and Sparkkit reminding him made his chest even tighter than it already was. “I hope I get someone fun! Not a bossy cat like Berrynose, or Whitewing. She sticks too close to the rules I think she recites the warrior code in her sleep! Or worse, Jayflight. He’s so bossy and grumpy all the time.” Alderkit shoved his sister lightly. He knew she didn't mean her words, but it was still rude to speak about her kin that way.

“That’s enough.” Squirrelflight, the kits’ mother and Bramblestar’s deputy, emerged from the nursery in time to hear Sparkkit’s last words. “Jayflight is your kin, Sparkkit, don’t disrespect him.” Sparkkit stuck out her tongue a little, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re not supposed to have fun with your mentors,” she added, licking one paw and smoothing it over a stubborn tuft on Sparkkit’s head that wouldn’t lay down. “You’re supposed to learn from them. Berrynose, Whitewing, and Jayflight would make excellent mentors. You would be lucky if Bramblestar gave you to one of them.”

Squirrelflight’s words were sharp, but Alderkit could detect her eyes shining with love for her kittens. Alderkit knew how much his mother adored him and his sister. He was only a kit, but he understood that Squirrelflight was old to have her first litter, and he remembered their shared grief for his lost littermates: Juniperkit and Dandelionkit. Juniperkit, who had barely taken a breath before he died, and Dandelionkit, who had never been strong, and who had slowly weakened until she died almost two moons later.

Sparkkit and I have to be the best cats we can be for Squirrelflight and Bramblestar.

Sparkkit, meanwhile, was not at all cowed by her mother’s scolding speech. She twitched her tail and cheerfully shook her pelt until it was fluffed up again.

Alderkit wished he had his sister’s confidence. He hadn’t wondered until now who his mentor would be, and he gazed around the clearing to the other cats with new and curious eyes. Ivypool would be an okay mentor, he thought, spotting the silver-and-white tabby she-cat returning from a hunting patrol with Lionblaze and her mate, Blossomfall. She’s friendly and a good hunter. Alderkit watched her brush against Blossomfall and lick her on the bridge of her nose before making her way to drop off the prey she caught on the fresh-kill pile. Lionblaze is a bit scary. He shifted his gaze to the tall tabby tom and suppressed a shiver at the sight of the muscles rippling under his golden fur. He loved Lionblaze, but the fact that he was so big still frightened him. It definitely won’t be Blossomfall. She mentored Sorrelstripe not that long ago. Or Dovewing, she mentored Fernsong, or Brightheart, who mentored Hollytuft. As he was searching the clan, he saw Leafpool outside her den with Briarlight and Dovewing. Dovewing was massaging her mate’s back while Leafpool helped the paralyzed she-cat with her exercises. Alderkit watched in interest until his aunt caught his eyes and blinked warmly at him. He quickly turned away.

Lost in thought, Alderkit watched Brackenfur, who had paused in the middle of the clearing to give his ear a good scratch. He was probably a good mentor when he was a warrior. He's been kind to me since I was a kit, but he's also firm.

“Hey wake up!” Sparkkit trod down hard on Alderkit’s paw, making him jolt. “It’s starting.” Alderkit realized that Bramblestar had appeared on the Highledge outside his den, way above their heads on the wall of the stone hollow.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!” Bramblestar yowled.

As the cats in the clearing turned their attention to Bramblestar and began to gather together, Alderkit though that his father seemed to stand taller and stronger than all of them—even strong warriors like Lionblaze and Dovewing.

He’s so confident and strong. I’m lucky to be his son.

Bramblestar ran lightly down the tumbled rocks and took his place in the ragged circle of cats that was forming at the foot of the rock wall. Graystripe, the Clan’s previous deputy, purred as the kits passed him, and Sorrelstripe, one of the youngest warriors, held her head high, as if proud to have finished her own apprenticeship. Squirrelflight gently nudged her two kits forward until they stood in the circle. Alderkit’s belly began to churn even harder and he tightened all his muscles to stop himself from trembling. I can’t do this! he cried silently, trying not to panic.

Then he caught sight of his father’s gaze on him: such a warm, proud look that Alderkit instantly felt comforted. He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to relax.

“Cats of ThunderClan,” Bramblestar began, “today is a great day, for it’s time to make two new apprentices. Sparkkit, come here, please.”

Instantly, Sparkkit bounced into the center of the circle, her tail standing straight up and her fur bristling with excitement. She gazed confidently at her leader.

“From this day forward,” Bramblestar meowed, touching Sparkkit on her shoulder with his tail-tip, “this apprentice will be known as Sparkpaw. Rosepetal, you will be her mentor.” Alderkit turned to the dark cream she-cat, who didn't look as surprised as he thought she would. Papa probably told her that Sparkpaw would be given to her. “Rosepetal, you’ve trained your past apprentices excellently, and I trust you will share with her your loyalty to your clan, your quick thinking, and your excellent hunting skills.”

Sparkpaw dashed across the circle to Rosepetal, bouncing with happiness, and the dark cream warrior bent her head to touch noses with her.

“Sparkpaw! Sparkpaw!” The Clan began to yowl.

Sparkpaw gave a pleased little hop as her Clanmates chanted her new name, her eyes shining as she stood up beside her mentor.

Alderkit joined the acclamation, pleased to see how happy his sister looked. Thank StarClan! There wasn’t any kind of test to prove that she was ready.

As the yowling died away, Bramblestar beckoned to Alderkit with his tail. “Your turn,” he meowed, his gaze encouraging Alderkit on. Alderkit’s legs were suddenly wobbly as he staggered into the center of the circle. His chest felt tighter than ever, as if he couldn’t breathe properly. But as he halted in front of Bramblestar, his father gave him a slight nod to steady him, and he stood with his head raised as Bramblestar rested the tip of his tail on his shoulder.

“From this day forward, this apprentice will be known as Alderpaw,” Bramblestar announced. “Toadstep, you will be his mentor. You are a loyal, brave, and energetic warrior, and I know that you will do your best to pass on these qualities to your apprentice.”

As he padded across the clearing to join his mentor, Alderpaw wasn’t sure how he felt. Toadstep was a great warrior, loyal, brave, determined; but, as Bramblestar said, he was also full of energy. Alderpaw didn’t think he would be able to match Toadstep’s enthusiasm about his first apprentice. He wondered if Bramblestar chose Toadstep so Alderpaw would learn to be less anxious and more optimistic. He swallowed and let Toadstep touch his nose to Alderpaw’s.

I hope I will make you proud of me, Alderpaw thought. I’m going to try my hardest!

“Alderpaw! Alderpaw!”

Alderpaw ducked his head and gave his chest fur a few embarrassed licks as he listened to his Clanmates caterwauling his name. At the same time, he thought he would burst with happiness. At last, the chanting died away and the crowd of cats began to disperse, heading toward their dens or the fresh-kill pile. Squirrelflight and Bramblestar padded over to join their kits.

“Well done,” Bramblestar meowed flicking his tail over Alderpaw’s ear. “It wasn’t so scary, was it?”

“It was great!” Sparkpaw responded, her tail waving in the air. “I can’t wait to go hunting!”

“We’re so proud of both of you,” Squirrelflight purred, giving Sparkpaw and Alderpaw a lick around the ears. “I’m sure you’ll both make wonderful warriors one day.”

Bramblestar dipped his head in agreement. “I know you both have so much to give to your Clan.” He stepped back as he finished speaking, and waved his tail to draw Rosepetal and Toadstep closer. “Listen to your mentors,” he told the two apprentice. “I’m looking forward to hearing good things about your progress.” Alderpaw caught a glint of emotion in his father’s eyes. With an affectionate nuzzle, he turned away and head toward his den. Squirrelflight too gave her kits a quick cuddle, and then she followed her mate.

Alderpaw noticed Lionblaze stand from his spot next to Cinderheart and their kits, and bound over to them. “Congrats!” he purred, nudging his cousins in the shoulder with his nose, nearly knocking Alderpaw off his paws. Alderpaw purred. Lionblaze always acted like a big brother to him. The tall tom’s eyes sparkled. “After you do your new apprentice duties, let's have a mouse together, okay?”

Alderpaw nodded. The golden warrior licked the apprentices’ ears swiftly before joining Cinderheart. Alderpaw and Sparkpaw were left alone with Toadstep and Rosepetal.

Toadstep faced Alderpaw, blinking in excitement. “Being an apprentice is a big responsibility,” he meowed, obviously trying to have a serious tone, but failing, his voice edging with excitement. “You must pay close attention to everything you’re taught, because one day your clan may depend on your fighting and hunting skills.” Alderpaw sat up straight and nodded. “You’ll have to work hard to prove you have what it takes to be a warrior,” Toadstep went on, his eyes wide.

Alderpaw held his head high and blinked at his mentor, afraid he didn’t look very worthy to be an apprentice. Rosepetal was speaking to her own apprentice behind him. “We’ll have such fun exploring the territory!” the cream she-cat meowed. The enthusiasm seemed to boost Toadstep, too, because he looked like he was about to burst. “And now you’ll get to go to Gatherings.”

“Can we start learning to hunt now?” Sparkpaw asked eagerly.

Toadstep and Rosepetal looked at each other, and Alderpaw thought they looked ever so slightly guilty. “Not right now,” Toadstep replied. “Apprentices have special duties for the well-being of the whole Clan, and we wanted you to start with a different part of apprenticeship than most apprentices do.”

“What do we have to do?” Alderpaw asked, eyeing the two mentors.

There was a guilty look on Rosepetal’s face as she meowed, “Today we agreed that you two are going to make sure the elders are comfortable by getting rid of their ticks. You’ll need some mouse bile. You can ask Leafpool for some and they’ll tell you how to use it.”

“Mouse bile!” Sparkpaw wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Yuck!”

Alderpaw’s heart sank further. If this is being an apprentice, I’m not sure I’m going to enjoy it.

Sunlight shone through the roof of the den, beneath the hazel bushes where the elder’s lived. Alderpaw wished that he could curl up in the warmth and take a long nap, but instead he was combing his claws painstakingly through Graystripe’s long pelt, searching for ticks. Sparkpaw was doing the same for Purdy, while Sandstorm and Millie looked on, patiently waiting for their turn. Brackenfur was laying next to the two she-cats, his small amount of ticks already finished by Sparkpaw.

“Wow, you’ve got a massive tick here!” Sparkpaw exclaimed. “Hold still and let me get it for you, Purdy.” With clenched teeth, she picked up the stick Leafpool had given her, which had a ball of moss soaked in mouse bile stuck to one end, and awkwardly bent her head so she could dab the moss onto Purdy’s tick.

The old tabby shook his pelt and sighed in relief as the tick fell to the ground. “That’s much better, young’un,” he purred, blinking gratefully at the young apprentice.

“But this stuff smells horrible!” Sparkpaw grumbled around the twig. “I don't know how you elders can stand it.” Suppressing a sigh, she began parting Purdy’s clumped, untidy fur in search for more ticks. Alderpaw heard stories about Mousefur, a snappy elder who died during the Great Battle, who used to groom Purdy’s pelt every night. Squirrelflight told Alderpaw that the elder would scold him about not taking care of himself, but he would never pay attention to her.

“Now you listen here, youngster,” Purdy meowed, tucking his paws under his chest. “There’s not a cat in ThunderClan who wasn’t an apprentice, cleaning off elder’s ticks just like you are.”

“Even Bramblestar?” Alderpaw asked, pausing with one paw sunk deep into Graystripe’s pelt. It was hard to imagine the huge leader as a small apprentice.

“Even Firestar,” Graystripe responded, a purr rumbling in his throat. “He and I trained as apprentices together. I’ve lost count of the number of ticks we pulled, but we probably only pulled so many because we were such trouble makers.” His eyes filled with emotion as he spoke about his old friend. “Hey!” he added, giving Alderpaw a soft prod to the side. “Watch what you’re doing, please. Your digging your claws into my shoulder!”

“Sorry!” Alderpaw meowed, relaxing his claws. In spite of being scolded, he felt quite content. Cleaning off ticks was a messy job, but there were worse things that sitting in a shaft of sunlight and listening to the kind elders. He looked up briefly to see Sandstorm’s green gaze resting lovingly on him and his sister as she settled herself more comfortably in the bracken of her nest.

“I remember when your mother was first made an apprentice,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Dustpelt was her mentor. I wish you had met him—he died during the Great Storm, killed by badgers. He was one of our best warriors, and he didn’t put up with any nonsense. Even so, Squirrelflight sure was a match for him!”

“What did she do?” Alderpaw asked, intrigued to think of his serious, fierce mother as a difficult young apprentice. “Please tell us!”

Sandstorm scoffed and rolled her eyes. “What didn’t she do? Slipping out of camp to hunt on her own . . . getting stuck in bushes, falling into streams . . . I remember Dustpelt saying to me once ‘If that kit of yours doesn’t shape up, I’ll claw her pelt off and hang it on a branch to frighten the foxes off!’”

Sparkpaw stared at her grandmother, her mouth gaping. “He wouldn’t have!”

“Of course not,” Sandstorm purred, her green eyes alight with amusement, “but Dustpelt had to be tough with her. He saw how much she had to offer her Clan, but he knew she wouldn’t live up to her potential unless she learned discipline.”

Brackenfur purred. “She was just enthusiastic about being an apprentice.”

“Well, she sure did live up to her potential,” Alderpaw meowed.

“Alderpaw!” Graystripe gave the dark ginger apprentice another prod. “What about my ticks, huh?”

“And ours!” Millie put in, with a glance at Sandstorm. “We’ve been waiting moons!”

“Sorry . . .” Alderpaw began rapidly searching through Graystripe’s pelt, and almost at once he came across a huge, swollen tick. That must be really uncomfortable for Graystripe. Picking up his mouse bile twig, he dabbed the tick with the moss, at the same moment, he happened to glance up, and spotted his aunt, Leafpool, speaking with Jayflight intently just outside the medicine cat’s den. Alderpaw knew that Jayflight was sort of like Leafpool’s assistant, figuring out omens, and helping her find infections. As Alderpaw wondered vaguely what was so important, both the medicine cat and the warrior turned toward him. Suddenly he felt trapped in Jayflight’s blind blue gaze and Leafpool’s searching one.

A worm of uneasiness began to gnaw at Alderpaw’s belly. Great StarClan! Are they speaking about me? Have I messed something up already?

Yeah so I tried to go a couple different ways but I decided I liked this more. Here’s the first chapter again!

[dashdashserendipity]

the elementals; chapter 1

Author: dashdashserendipity Genre: Fantasy (Magic!AU), Romance, Mystery, Suspense Pairing: You & Taehyung Rating: R Word Count: 3, 371

Summary: Higher magis and lower magis don’t mix. This was the first of many unofficial rules passed along to members of the Helixia University student body. You don’t care about these rules and are only concerned with two things: maintaining a tightly controlled lid on your powers and graduating as soon as possible. Your plans, however, are disrupted by the sudden return of Kim Taehyung, who brings along with him whispers of darkness and death. This, paired with the growing rumors of disappearing magis and non-magis alike, should dissuade you from wanting to associate with the infamous higher magi. Should being the operative word.

masterlist

…here! Run, child, run! For the Reaper is here! 616. Glistening, golden. Child, the Reaper is here!

You awake to a start, hearing the echoes of the voice vibrating in your head until, finally, silence envelopes your mind. A shudder runs through your body. You look down at your bare arms and goosebumps welcome your tired eyes. You shift your body slightly to read the numbers on the clock:

5:28 AM.

A groan fills the room and your head drops back with a soft thump.  It’s too early for this shit.  

Buried under the sheets, you contemplate what to do next.  Sleep and be greeted with the oh-so-friendly screeches of the next ghost come to say hi or stay awake and risk falling asleep in your 8 AM History of Elementals class. A sigh bounces across the empty dark brown walls of the dorm room.  Awake it is.

The grounds of Helixia University are strangely beautiful at 6 in the morning.   Sunrise does nothing to dispel the grey clouds of the previous night.  Flashes of the moon weave between the strips of cloud and sunlight until the moon wanes and ultimately decides to disappear for the day, slowly fading as if it were never there to begin with.  Remnants of it are still here though: in the chill of the grass, in the briskness of the wind. Passing through the front lawn of the dormitory, your feet become damp as the fresh dew transfers from the grass to your sneakers.  Out here, only silence welcomes you.  You stop at the foot of a towering fountain, the low gurgling of the water accompanying you and your quiet thoughts.  

The statue is of one of the Originals, one of the primordial members of the magical realm who introduced magic to the world.  The one on display is of Apetura, the Original space magician.  She is carved of an expensive marble and gleams under the bluish-purple light of the early morning.  Carved onto her body are robes laced with gold trim, her feet left bare.  The replica is astonishing to look at, its intricacies rumored to be some of the most complex in the world.  The fibers of her hair glimmer against her stony demeanor.  But beyond the beauty of her angular nose and full lips pressed in a concentrated fashion are eyes that look over the fields in front of the building: soulless, yet all-knowing.  Because she sees things that few do.  At least, that’s what the History of Elementals textbook said.  

She is haunting in ways that are unexplainable and that may be the scariest part of all.  Thoughts of Apetura disappear though, with the distant rumbling of a motor following the uphill road towards the cluster of dorms surrounding you and the fountain.

Without knowing the model or make, you know with absolute certainty that the person who steps out of the vehicle comes from immense, unimaginable wealth.  The vehicle is sleek in design and reflects the sunlight brighter than the water droplets on the grass.  The car demands attention.  The person exiting it, so much more.

He’s tall.  The first noticeable feature is his height.  Immense, towering, he physically dominates the older man who steps out of the driver’s seat a few seconds later.  The trunk pops open in the back with a silent click and the driver quickly moves to retrieve the bags in the back.  The taller one leans against the car door, arms crossed grimly as he observes the statue of Etherin, the Original air magi. His eyes continue to roam the other statues surrounding the field and while your eyes roam him.

His throat bobs a little with a harsh swallow and the muscles in his neck tense.  You idly wonder why he looks so stressed at 6 in the morning as your eyes continue their journey upward.  Lips a dull red, slightly parted as he breathes out a large cloud of mist.  They’re full and wide and they look soft, though you can’t really tell for certain from this angle beside the statue of Apetura.  His nose is noticeably sharp and serves as the only contrast to the softness of his lips – a beautiful balance.  You shudder at the random thought as your perusal continues to his eyes.

Eyes which stare directly at you.

Somehow, his eyes have finished their journey around the statues and have landed on Apetura, only to land on you standing awkwardly in front of the cold marble, consequently staring at him.  

You can’t tell the color of them, his eyes, but you know that they are dark. Most definitely not a blue or green, but maybe a brown or gray.  The color remains obsolete though, for his glare is much louder.  The elegant tip of his eyes glare straight at you and for a second, you fear that you have intruded upon some quiet, ritualistic moment of his.  To say that he stares into your soul is inaccurate.  He stares through that and into your mind, your embodiment, as if to say that he is more familiar with your body than you can ever hope to be.  It’s a haunting look, so much so that you feel naked although you’re wrapped up two sweaters and a thick red scarf.  

A soft wind ruffles the frayed tip of your scarf and you come to a stark realization that the breeze was not normal.  

The oak trees surrounding the field in front of Apetura Dormitory remain still and no yellow or orange leaves trickle their way to the floor.  The water droplets surrounding you did not do their rippling dance.  A chill passes through you again, this time carrying a voice.

Go away.

Your eyes widen a fraction and meet the eyes of the man across the walkway.  His eyes are still hard, his lips no longer slightly parted and, instead, pursed in a very visible anger that can be seen from your position tens of feet away from him.  A chill follows you again. Only this time, it is not induced by the strange man’s wind.  Instead, it comes from inside.

With an agility you never knew you possessed, your body quickly spun around as you sped walked back to the dorm.  All that time, you can feel his eyes tracking your every step until the grand oak doors of the dormitory hall closed with a thud.

Thoughts of the mystery man follow you as you return back to your room, heart pounding and mind trying to replay exactly what had happened. Those thoughts, however, quickly disappear in the hubbub of your roommate, Areum, getting ready for the day. You glance at the clock again only to realize that it was now 7 AM, meaning that your morning walk was much longer than you had originally thought.

“Ah, Y/N! There you are! I woke up this morning and didn’t see you, so I thought you left for class without me.” She pouts as she’s walking out of the bathroom from her morning shower. “Not that I would mind. I would much rather be asleep than listen to Professor Lee go on and on about how great the Originals were.” She rolls her eyes as she continues to dry her hair with a towel.

“Sorry, I woke up early and didn’t want to wake you with my tossing and turning. I left and took a walk this morning,” you reply back. “Give me 15 more minutes and we can go get breakfast?”

Areum makes a humming sound in agreement and walks over to her desk-turned-vanity station. As she is putting on makeup, you contemplate changing out of your sweaters into something more appropriate and less “I spent my whole weekend indoors on my bed”, but you quickly think against it, preferring warmth to fashion for today. Your mind wanders to your backpack, laying next to your bed and untouched from last Friday. You quickly go over what tasks and assignments are due in the next couple of days and spend a few minutes packing accordingly.

Just as you are finished packing, Areum stands from her chair and links arms with you, pink backpack in tow as she rattles off the breakfast menu for this morning.

You and Areum take the five flights of stairs down to the common area on the first floor and are greeted with Soojin screaming her head off at a pair of twin boys you recognize to be from the second floor of your dorm.

“…is highly inappropriate. Tony, just because someone dares you to steal Marc’s towel gives you no permission to actually do so. That is extremely inappropriate and is a violation of someone’s privacy and property rights. I don’t want to wake up to an ass-naked Marc ever again. I’ve been scarred enough in my lifetime, thanks.” Sooj’s eyes glare at the boy whose head is bent down in fear.

The boy next to her, who you assume to be Marc, is red-faced and can’t look at Soojin directly.

“Both of you are dismissed. Tony, you’ll be having a meeting with the residential hall leader later tonight. Marc, you’re free to go now. And stop looking so embarrassed. Your penis isn’t that memorable.” Marc only turns redder at that comment and punches Tony lightly in the arm, muttering something about this being “so uncool, dude”.

Soojin looks up from her scolding and spots you and Areum standing near the entrance, with Areum giggling into her palm. Sooj walks over with a face of defeat.

“I swear to Infernas, my job is going to kill me. I feel it. A bit of my soul caves every time I have to deal with first years.” Soojin sighs and links arms with Areum.

“You know, Soojin, sometimes I don’t know why you sell your soul to Residential Affairs every year, but then I’m reminded of the queen sized bed in your dorm room and I come closer to enlightenment.” Aruem blinks up at Soojin, who stands a good six inches taller than her.

“Hey, whatever pays the bills and keeps me from having to live with you,” she replies back with a quirk of her lips.

Soojin and Areum have been friends since childhood and have gone to elementary, middle, and high school together. Coming into their first year at university, they chose to live together in the same dorm room. Which, according to what Soojin and Areum tell you, was a bad idea. Their living styles did not match at all and Soojin was quick to apply for the Residential Assistant position near the end of the year to avoid being roommates with Areum. Something Areum was 100% supportive of. Come second year of college, you and Areum were randomly assigned to a new room together and while Areum did have some untidy habits (mainly leaving her clothes everywhere and then some), you were glad to have made a new friend. Your last roommate, while amicable, had her own crowd and rarely included you in anything. Which was fine by you, considering you were taking four classes during your first semester at Helixia and working a part-time job.

“Please,” Areum replies, “I’m the best fucking roommate around. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Soojin scoffs, “Yeah, if you enjoy tripping over some Victoria’s Secret lingerie every morning a casual pleasantry.”

You choose not to join in the middle of this play fight and stay silent, for you know this is just how the two best friends express their love for each other. Instead, you gradually drag the both of them into the dining hall and follow the smell of eggs and freshly baked bread. Sooj and Areum quickly end their bickering and instead split off to grab some breakfast before class.

The three of you reconvene at a small table on the right side of the cafeteria with plates and drinks in hand. Once you’re settled, you quickly dig into your food, eager to fill the empty void in your stomach. Sooj and Areum talk aimlessly about plans for this weekend, something about a bonfire in the middle of Gaia Woods to celebrate the beginning of the Winter Solstice. Your ears begin to tune out what they are saying, especially since you can’t attend the bonfire because you have the weekend duty at work, and your eyes instead roam around the cafeteria.

At first glance, it’s hard to see how Helixia University, a school dedicated to training young magicians, or magi for short, is any different from your average, run-of-the-mill human university. At one table, two students are studying hard for a quiz for their next class and another group of students further away laugh collectively at someone’s joke. At the farther corner of the cafeteria, directly opposite from you, a group of guys quietly eat their meals while, two tables down, a couple is passionately making out. At this sight, you turn your head away, not wanting to see more PDA.

You look down at your hands now, eyes tired of perusing the cafeteria scene. You knew better though, to assume that Helixia was just like other schools.

Helixia is the longest surviving educational institution for the magically gifted, but with great longevity comes old traditions and customs. Some traditions, like the Winter Solstice bonfire, deserve to be celebrated. Others, in your opinion, like the distinction between higher and lower magis, didn’t.

Glancing at the cafeteria again, you reassess the groups that you saw. The two students studying together were lower magis, eagerly studying in order to graduate with high marks and get a good job at some multi-national corporation. The group of students boisterously laughing was composed of higher magis who enjoyed the world with few concerns. The group directly opposite you were another group of higher magis, their immense power radiating heat so much so that you could feel the last trickles of their power reach you, even as you sat across the room from them. The couple passionately lip-locked consisted of two male higher magis.

Within a week or so of attending Helixia, you noticed that magis only stuck with people of the same power levels as themselves and that intermingling between the two castes, while present, was still few and far in between. You remember turning to the girl who sat next to you in your Introduction to Mythical History class, asking why there was such an obvious divide in the classroom. It was as if someone had taken a pen and drawn a line halfway through the room, with lowers on the left side of the room and highers on the right.

“Higher magis and lower magis don’t mix. It’s not like an official rule. Power segregation ended like, two hundred years ago. But a lot of bad blood still remains, so for the most part, higher and lower magis tend to avoid each other.”

You remember telling her that the idea of higher and lower magis not mixing was a, “fucking stupid idea,” only to receive a half-hearted shrug from her.

Looking at the cafeteria scene, you can see, once again, what she’s talking about. A majority of the students in here are grouped by magi status and very rarely do these intersections cross.  You continue to lazily observe the dining hall as Sooj and Areum continue to talk about their outfits for the bonfire.

“How does one even dress for a bonfire?” asked Areum. “Like, I’m gonna be cold walking there, but then it’s going to be hot because of the bonfire and the dancing and the drinking, but then I’m going to leave cold. How does dressing for this kind of thing even work?”

Soojin laughs, “Babe, you just gotta do it with some poise and grace. When you’re confident, no one will notice your sweaty face or your shivering body.”

Areum rolls her eyes, “Yeah, whatever, fucking Teen Model of the Year and shit. Not all of us can be as leggy as you, you—holy shit.” Areum’s eyes glance over Soojin’s left shoulder towards the entrance of the main cafeteria, mouth dropping into a wide O.

“What?” asks Soojin, as she turns around to look at the entrance as well. “Holy fuck, is that? No way, I thought he was expelled and in prison or something.”

You look at where your two friends eyes are rapt with attention, tinged a bit with shock.

To your surprise, there stands the man from this morning, his ashen hair swept a bit to the side from the air conditioning blasting above his head.  You didn’t notice this before, probably because you were standing so far away from him, but you notice it now.

His power.

The heat washes over you immediately and nearly envelopes you whole. He must be a higher magi, no doubt about it. That amount of power, just naturally exerted from his body, was almost breathtaking. Your focus on him breaks however, as he moves towards the group of higher magis that were sitting directly opposite you from across the dining hall. The six heads pop up and nod in greeting to the man and quickly make room for him at the table.

With your attention momentarily away from him, you take in your surroundings. The cafeteria, which was once buzzing with noise and laughter, is eerily quiet. Everyone is staring at the ash blonde man, some with faces of shock, others with faces of disgust and horror.  Then everything moves within a second.

Some groups leave immediately, throwing away their half-eaten breakfasts with haste, some scrambling away in fear, others muttering hateful words under their breath as they depart. The two lower magis who were eagerly studying quickly pack their bags and rush out the main doors. Others, mainly the higher magis, continue about their morning, though some sneak glances at the table of seven men.

You turn your head to Soojin and Areum. The former’s face is one of barely concealed confusion, while the latter looks like she’s going to throw up.

You glance at your watch and see that the time is 7:40 AM. Definitely too early to go to class, but your friends are frozen in shock and if they didn’t get their shit together soon, you all would most definitely be late to class.

“Sooj, Reum, let’s go. I need to uh, stop by my locker to pick up a book for a later class,” you state as you gently shake the girls out of their stupor. Sooj is the first to come to and she hastily grabs her tray. Areum soon follows, that glassy-eyed look still very present in her eyes as she shakily picks up her tray.

Soojin and Areum walk ahead of you, both quietly disposing of their trash. While you wait your turn, you glance over to the table again and are thankful that none of the guys are looking up. Instead, all seven heads are bent inwards, with one person, judging by the movement of his hands and lips, rapidly and urgently speaking. You turn your attention back to the trashcan, dispose of your waste properly, and grab Soojin and Areum’s arms to gently lead them out of the dining hall.

In ten minutes, the three of you arrive at your locker, which is conveniently located across from your and Areum’s first class and is nicely situated next to Soojin’s first class. It is then that you ask them what has been plaguing you the entire walk from the cafeteria to your current location.

“Wh—what was that? Who was that?” you ask, almost breathlessly.

It takes a few seconds before Soojin responds. “That,” she says, “was Kim Taehyung. One of the most powerful air magis of our generation.”

You look at her blankly. “Okay, so what? There are plenty of other magis who are also just as powerful. Trust me, I can feel their power signatures, Sooj.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not just that. Like, we all know he’s powerful. It’s just that he also has a reputation.”

You pause. “For doing what?”

Areum, to your surprise, answers, her voice steely although her face says that she is anything but.

“For killing someone. For killing his brother.”

[ferociousqueak]

Family Resemblance, Ch. 8

A new chapter! And it didn’t take a year! Thank you, as always, to @servantofclio, @thievinghippo, and @pagerunner for their awesome beta work and endless support <3

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8

And now on FFNet!

Chapter 8: Hubris (2165)

(noun): a great or foolish amount of pride or confidence

#

Alli was dying by the time her last class got out. It wasn’t that she didn’t like galactic history, but jeez did Matriarch Aelya have to focus so much on all the boring stuff? How many stupid treaties were there, anyway?

She caught Kardi’s arm just outside the door and started to pull her down the hallway. Segundus—tall and lanky, not yet grown into his dark brown crest—caught sight of them and followed after.

“Hey, Alli,” Kardi said, looking down at her arm. “Where are we going?”

“To solve a problem,” Alli said, letting go of her once she’d fallen in step.

“Okay,” Segundus offered. “What kind of problem?”

“The kind that needs a lookout when you solve it,” Alli said, grinning up at him.

Kardi’s brow furrowed. “I have to tutor Glows with the Light of the Enkindlers in an hour. Will your problem be solved by then?”

Alli nodded, having met the hanar Kardi was tutoring and appreciating how much they needed help understanding algebra. “Oh yeah, definitely. Fifteen minutes, tops. I just need to find one of those terminals the Keepers use.”

It hadn’t taken Alli long to learn the natural current of the student body flowing through the hallways, and now she could navigate through it like she’d been doing it for years, not a handful of weeks. She turned down several halls, pushing past volus, salarians, asari, turians—even the odd human.

As a matter of course, Alli tried to stay away from the other humans. Most of them she’d known from Arcturus, and seeing them usually made her stomach do somersaults. But this school was so much bigger; there were easily three times as many students in her grade as there were in the whole school on Arcturus—primary and secondary combined. She could avoid them fairly easily if she was careful, and she had no desire to be reminded of how much they disliked her—or to prompt them to share their opinions of her with the students at this school.

Alli was much more comfortable with Kardi’s friends—with her friends. Realizing she actually had friends now was so jarring that she sometimes pinched herself—checking first to make sure no one was looking, even if they didn’t know what the gesture meant—to make sure she really wasn’t dreaming. She still half-expected they would get bored of her or come to realize what all the kids on Arcturus had realized—that she wasn’t someone you wanted to know or associate with if you could help it. So far, though, they hadn’t seemed to come to either of those conclusions, and she wasn’t about to voice her worry. Not when things actually seemed to be going well.

Alli and Segundus often studied together and fell into an easy back and forth of one-upmanship. Their strengths tended to overlap, which made the competition that much more fierce, though still friendly. She’d already gotten a better grade than him on their first test. He held his mandibles in tighter that day, and she figured that was how turians pouted. Well, he should do better next time.

Tullia, also a turian, seemed transfixed by Alli’s hair and had hardly known her a day before she’d asked timidly if she could touch it. Alli wasn’t used to that close of contact, but the laser focus on Tullia’s face made her acquiesce, hesitating at first but slowly growing used to it. By the time Alli had finished her first week, it had become routine for Tullia to take up one of her braids, undo it, and then try to braid it again. Despite the initial challenge of only having six fingers, it only took a few tries for her to get the hang of it.

Lessa, a small-framed asari with much darker blue skin than Kardi’s, was a more reserved than her other companions and would usually only talk to Alli if they were alone or the others were preoccupied in a different conversation. Her voice was soft and quiet, and she would send Alli sketches—of the Presidium, of a keeper, of the krogan statue, of just about anything—at unexpected hours, but no message came with them. She asked Kardi whether Lessa did this with anyone else, and Kardi shrugged and assured her she would get used to it.

Neirin and Cortne, a salarian and a volus who appeared to Alli to be inseparable, seemed to come into the group from time to time and disappear again just as suddenly. Kardi said they were usually holed up in the school’s chemistry lab, doing goddess knew what but at least the school was still standing.

Right now, however, she only had Segundus and Kardi to help her. It might be nice to have more than a couple lookouts, but she’d work with what she had. She led them to a Keeper nook near the school’s server room—an area far removed from any of the areas frequented by students—and peeked around the corner. Perfect. No Keeper right now.

It was funny, now that she thought of it. For as much as she’d heard about aliens hating humans, they’d been friendlier to her than anyone she’d known on Arcturus. Had Dad been wrong? No, he must’ve known something she didn’t. So why had every alien she’d met been so nice to her? It was nice having friends, so she didn’t want to question it. But why?

She brought up her ‘tool and interfaced it with the console in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Kardi whispered around the corner at her.

“Kaius was completely unfair in how he graded my essay,” Alli whispered loudly over her shoulder as she navigated her folders to find the virus she was looking for. “So I’m fixing it.”

“Fixing it?” Segundus’s head appeared around the corner, just above Kardi’s, his mandibles trembling with the question. Alli suppressed a sigh of frustration—some lookouts.

“Yes, fixing it,” Alli said. “My parents fought in the First Contact War, and my mom almost died. Like hell am I gonna call it the Relay 314 Incident.”

She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to feel Segundus and Kardi exchange glances in the beat of silence that followed.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Segundus asked, a nervous tremor in his voice.

Alli rolled her eyes but kept her attention on the progress of the program she was uploading to hack into her teacher’s grade book. “Of course I am,” she said, trying to suppress her annoyance. “I refuse to let my grade suffer just because Kaius can’t get his head out of his cloaca.”

“But don’t you think he’ll notice?” he asked. “What if he catches you? Won’t you get in trouble?”

The program chimed to announce successful access to the grading book. “There,” Alli said, grinning. “Why would he notice? He’s done with that assignment, so there’s no reason to go back and check it. I’ll be fine.”

She turned and rounded the corner again to face her friends, neither of whom seemed keen on moving. Segundus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His brow plates shifted down and his mandibles twitched in that way that said he was debating whether to say what was on his mind. “But, if he does catch you, not that he will, but if he does . . . Alli you could get kicked out of school. Is it really worth it?”

Alli paused and glanced back toward the console. She hadn’t considered that. On the outside chance she did get caught—maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but maybe toward the end of the term—where would she go? Would she have to go an Alliance school again? Dad might be happy about that because she wouldn’t be around so many aliens all the time, but she could already see Mom’s disappointed face.

Kardi crossed her arms and looked disapprovingly at Alli. “Did you at least try talking to Kaius first?”

Alli’s cheeks felt hot and she pulled at her braid, looking at her fingers as they twirled the end instead of at her friends. “Well, no, but I thought he’d . . . My dad said turians are . . .” She glanced quickly at Segundus and her blush burned hotter. “I . . . I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll, uh, I’ll leave my grade.”

She turned back toward the console, and in a few swipes, killed the hack. She faced her friends again, her blush starting to subside, and grinned sheepishly. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll try talking to him tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll be reasonable.”

Segundus seemed to relax and Kardi’s expression softened. “It’s okay, Alli,” she said and put an arm around her shoulders as she led them back the way they’d come. “I know things were different on Arcturus. My mom says new races can go through a bit of—what did she call it?—culture shock when they first come to the Citadel. You’ll be okay. You just need to get used to things here.”

Alli felt her own shoulders relax. How could she have thought that hacking into Kaius’s grade book was a good idea? She wasn’t on Arcturus anymore; she would have to try to do things the way everyone did them here. But now she looked like a cheater. Would Kardi and everyone else start to reconsider being friends with her? Alli’s heart began to race at the thought. She would have to try harder if she didn’t want to end up an outcast again.

The halls were now practically empty; apparently, the enthusiasm to rush home at the end of the day wasn’t species-specific. It hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes since the final bell had rung, but you wouldn’t think so to look at the abandoned halls. Perhaps that’s why it was more surprising when the three of them turned again and nearly ran into a student leaving the administrative office. Alli stumbled back several steps, still caught in Kardi’s arm and registering the student as human.

“Shepard?” His voice was incredulous, and the sound of it sent electricity racing down Alli’s spine.

“Gerald,” she said flatly, meeting his icy stare.

He stood a full head taller than her. Pale skin, sandy blond hair, dark brown eyes—he’d been a favorite among many of the girls on Arcturus, but the sight of him only turned Alli’s stomach.

Gerald rocked back on his heel and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, don’t you look just chummy with aliens,” he said with a sneer curling his upper lip. “Figures.”

He didn’t go into more detail about what he figured, but she could tell he was trying to bait her. She ground her teeth and refused take it—that would only make things worse. Instead, she stepped out from under Kardi’s arm and brushed quickly past Gerald, in no mood to spare any more words for him. He followed after her. Figures.

“I almost forgot your mom was on Einstein too,” he said at her elbow. “No idea what she did to get an assignment like that. Or who.” Alli curled her fists and felt the heat rise in her cheeks—though not from embarrassment this time—but kept walking. “It’s so good to see a familiar face here. We’ll be best friends, I’m sure of it.”

Segundus appeared at Alli’s other side, and she felt Kardi’s reassuring grip on her shoulder.

“Alli, who’s this?” Segundus asked, and she could hear an edge in his tone. She hadn’t told them about Gerald; she’d hoped when she hadn’t seen him at the school that she was finally done with him. She wanted to forget all about him.

“No one,” she snapped. She kept her glare fixed firmly in front of her. She wouldn’t look at him. “Go away, Gerald.”

But he didn’t go away. “My dad was on meritorious leave when Einstein docked here. He stopped a transport of slaves practically by himself. So I’ve been on Earth with him for the last few weeks. Now he’s back on duty, so here I am. I guess you wouldn’t know what that’s like, though. Your dad’s never done anything meritorious.”

Alli felt the hairs on her arms stand up as the now-familiar tingling started to heat her skin. Kardi gripped her harder and pressed her fingertips into her shoulder in the sequence of the maneuver she knew was supposed to quell her corona. “Alli,” she said, her voice flat and full of warning that didn’t need any more words.

Alli appreciated the reminder, but it wasn’t necessary—she wouldn’t let Gerald get to her, she wouldn’t. She clenched her jaw and kept walking, not looking at him. “I’m not doing anything to you, Gerald. Go away.”

He laughed and walked a little faster until he was in front of her, putting a hand on her chest to stop her—a glacier seemed to settle in her gut. “Come on now, I’m just trying to have a friendly chat,” he said, his hot breath near enough she could smell the milk souring in his mouth.

Segundus stepped forward and tried to position himself between Gerald and Alli. “You’re making her upset. Stop.”

Gerald sneered at Segundus and pushed him aside with the back of his hand—Alli only distantly registered Kardi’s excuse me and Segundus’s low growl—keeping his attention on Alli. “So what, Shepard? No humans want to be your friend, so you start hanging out with turians of all things? Did you promise to be his pet or something?” Alli felt Segundus bristle beside her but she put up a hand to stop him from doing anything. “You know, I think my dad was wrong about you. You’re more like your mom. Bowing to aliens, licking their boots. I mean, your dad might be a psycho, but at least he’s got stand—”

Alli’s fist connected with Gerald’s jaw before she was even aware of the impulse. She’d heard her dad talk about seeing red in a fight, but that’s not what she saw. No, she saw blue. It flickered and licked at her eyes, her arms, her fists like fire. The blue coursed over her skin, humming and pulsing and amplifying her fury tenfold. She wanted to punch Gerald again. And again. And again as many times as it took for him to stop talking, stop following her everywhere she went.

Gerald was on the floor, holding his jaw and looking terrified, when Alli felt a three-fingered hand on her chest and another holding her arm back from striking another blow. She didn’t even get to feel any kind of satisfaction before terror flooded her.

“You’re—you’re a biotic!” Gerald shouted, pointing at her as he scuttled backward one-handed on the ground. “I knew it! You really are one of those freaks!”

Kardi had stepped in between Alli and Gerald and flared her corona. “How stupid can you be?” she spat at him. “Of course I’m a biotic, you idiot. All asari are!”

Alli felt ice run through her veins and turned in the direction Segundus pushed her. What had she done? She walked quickly down the hall, hearing only distantly as Kardi argued with Gerald, who insisted he knew what he’d seen. Segundus kept his hand on her back and matched her strides easily.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I . . . I don’t know—”

“I’d have done the same thing,” Segundus said, a low growl on the edge of his voice. Alli stole a glance at him and saw his mandibles twitching in agitation and his brow plates turned down. “I’m guessing the two of you didn’t get along on Arcturus?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, the tears forming behind her eyes. “He’s gonna tell his dad I’m a biotic, and then his dad’s gonna tell the Alliance. They’re gonna send me to BAaT, I know it.”

“Kardi can talk circles around anyone. She could probably convince him he’s a turian if she tried. He won’t say anything,” he said and stopped walking.

Alli realized they’d arrived at a rapid transit just outside the school. She hadn’t been paying attention to where they’d been walking.

“Go home, Alli. Kardi and I will take care of Gerald.” He flicked his mandibles in a strained smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I might even let you beat me at calc to help you feel better.”

Alli laughed weakly and sat heavily into the car. Home wasn’t far away, but she really didn’t feel like walking even that short distance. What am I going to do, she thought, panic already boiling in the back of her mind. If Gerald told his dad, that was it for her. He could have her sent away—far away from Mom, from Dad, from all her new friends. Of course. Right when she was just starting to get used to this place—just starting to look forward to seeing friends, to having friends.

The rapid transit stopped in front of her home and opened the door. She hesitated a moment, flexing her fist and shaking it out. It had only been one punch, but her knuckles were red and the skin burned. How was she going to explain all this to Mom?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Don’t panic, she told herself. Just be cool. After taking another deep breath, she opened her eyes and stepped out of the rapid transit. The door loomed ominously in front of her, daring her to walk inside and face the consequences of her actions. She lingered only a few moments, then took a deep breath and walked inside. As quietly as she could manage, she slipped her shoes off by the door and hung her bag on its hook. Maybe Mom wasn’t—

No. Mom was home. She was sitting at the dining room table, her elbows on the table and hunched over something. She looked . . . distressed. What was she reading that she found so upsetting?

“No,” Mom said quietly. “No, this can’t be what it looks like.”

Oh no. Had Gerald already told his dad? Was she already talking to his father?

“I didn’t read the report, but it’s unlikely that what they found is inaccurate.”

Alli couldn’t see Ms. Dess from where she stood, but she recognized her voice. That was weird. Alli couldn’t remember either Mom or Ms. Dess being here this early before. When did they get here?

Mom shook her head. “No, I know. I just mean there has to be an explanation. Something not obvious. This is . . . it can’t be . . .” Ms. Dess hummed but didn’t say anything else. “I have to talk to Drescher about this. She owes me. I don’t care if it’s classified, if anyone can shed some light on this, it’s her.”

Alli stepped quietly around the corner and said, “Mom?”

Mom jumped in her seat and put a hand on her chest. She looked pale, almost sick. “Alli!” she almost shouted, her voice high. “You startled me.”

Alli looked down at the table, where a blue envelope and a pile of papers—real sheets of paper, not datapads—was spread out in front of Mom. Alli glanced across the table, where Ms. Dess seemed to sit impassively, but Alli could tell she’d gone tense as well from how her mandibles pressed tightly to her jaw.

“Is everything okay?” Alli asked, looking from Mom to Ms. Dess.

Mom exchanged a look with Ms. Dess and seemed to ask a silent question. Ms. Dess nodded, and Mom began to gather up the papers and shove them back into their envelope.

“I have to go,” Mom said as she sealed the blue flap. “I have to go to Arcturus for a meeting.” Mom took the stairs two at a time and disappeared into her bedroom. Her voice was smaller, but it traveled as she said, “You’ll stay with Ms. Dess and Ms. Sana until I get back. I should be home in a few days.”

Alli looked at Ms. Dess and cocked her head, not knowing exactly what question she wanted to ask. Ms. Dess, however, wouldn’t make eye contact and instead passed her hand over the top of her crest. Alli heard the slide of the closet, and if she had to guess, it was Mom pulling out her travel bag to pack it.

“It’s nothing to worry about, starshine,” she said, still in her bedroom, her voice unusually high and reassuring. “Just a little last-minute meeting with Admiral Drescher for a, uh, research project.”

Alli frowned. She hated it when Mom lied—she wasn’t even good at it. Alli kept her voice low as she asked Ms. Dess, “Is Mom okay?”

“She says she is,” Ms. Dess said, but the shake of her head and the shrug of her shoulders told a different story.

The fight with Gerald seemed so far away now, and only the throb in Alli’s hand reminded her how fresh it really was. Should she tell Mom now or wait for her to get back? She certainly didn’t want her to find out from Gerald’s dad. She opened her mouth to ask why Mom was so upset, but then Mom was already coming down the stairs.

“There’s some food in the fridge and the pantry,” Mom said. “Pack as much of it as you’ll need, and I’ll deal with the rest when I get back. I have to be on the first transport shuttle out of here and it leaves in,” she brought up her ‘tool’s interface, swiped a few times and sighed. “Twenty minutes.”

Mom walked past Alli toward the door, barely stopping to kiss the top of her hair.

“But what if Dad comes back?” Alli asked.

Mom froze in front of the door, her hand hovering above the glowing green access panel.

“Call me,” she said and the door opened then closed behind her retreating figure.

Alli turned back toward Ms. Dess, fear freezing its way through her veins. Both her parents had been deployed at the same time before, but this felt different. “What’s going on? Why was she in such a hurry to leave? Why couldn’t she just call Drescher?”

Ms. Dess finally met her gaze again. “I wish I could tell you, Alli, but even I don’t know. Those were classified . . . research papers. I don’t know what they said to make her so worked up. Your mom is the only one who knows what she’s talking about.” Her gaze shifted downward and settled on Alli’s hands. She frowned and said, “Alli, what’s wrong with your fingers? They’re pinker than normal.”

Alli glanced down at her hand and sighed. “I got in a fight,” she admitted, defeated.

Ms. Dess’s brow plates drew down in disapproval, but she didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, she sighed and asked, “Are you all right?”

Alli didn’t know how to answer that question.

#

It wasn’t Michael’s fault.

Fucking Geneva. What a goddamn mess.

He’d done everything he was supposed to do to get Greenwood and her team onto the ship undetected. It was some fucking new guy with an itchy trigger finger who got them into a firefight with every goddamn Alliance soldier posted to the ship. Even with Michael deliberately missing every shot, Greenwood’s team ended up with four fatalities. She and the only other surviving member of her squad were taken into custody.

Then they found Michael’s access codes and the virus that hadn’t had enough time to self-destruct, and he was taken into custody too. Just. Like. He. Fucking. Said.

Fucking goddammit.

There was a lawyer already waiting for him when they arrived on Arcturus, and he seemed confident that he could get Michael off with very little trouble.

“These raiders obviously stole your access codes, Major,” the lawyer, Mr. White, said as he scrolled through the list of charges and evidence. He was tall, blond, and utterly forgettable. No scars or marks marred his skin, he was good looking but not remarkably so, and he exuded calmness. Michael couldn’t help admiring how effortlessly this person was able to achieve the kind of infiltration look that spies and spec ops soldiers often worked for years to perfect.

“You’re the victim here,” White continued, “and there’s no reason a highly esteemed N7 operative like yourself should be railroaded like this.”

Michael stared at the lawyer for a long moment, unsure of whether he actually believed what he said or if he was already working on building reasonable doubt—he didn’t know much about the law, but he knew the prosecution would have to build up that much. He shrugged and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. As long as he didn’t get nailed to the wall for this shit, it didn’t matter.

“How long do you think it’ll take to sort everything out? JAG was pretty quick to send you. Should I take that as a good sign?” Michael asked.

White kept his eyes on the datapad in front of him and shook his head. “The Judge Advocate General didn’t send me, Major Shepard. My employer is a friend of yours who wishes to remain anonymous. He’s very interested in making sure an innocent man like you isn’t punished for other people’s misdeeds. We expect to have this misunderstanding cleared up as quickly as possible. Your grand jury is scheduled for a week from today.”

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. He knew he wouldn’t be forgotten. “That seems . . . fast.”

White nodded and turned off the datapad’s display as he looked up at Michael for the first time since he’d sat down. “It is. We see no reason you should languish under house arrest while an interminable investigation into these trumped up treason charges goes on for weeks or months. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable. Call your loved ones. Let them know there’s been a misunderstanding that you need to address but that you’ll be home soon.”

Han. Shit! He’d been so focused on what was immediately in front of him that he hadn’t considered her at all.

“Yeah,” Michael said, dreading that particular conversation already. “I’ll do that.”

White stood and left without so much as a goodbye, and Michael leaned forward again, rubbing his hands through his hair. What was he going to tell Han? This White person could probably get a grand jury to believe he hadn’t done what he did and dismiss the case, but would Han believe it? He’d made so many pains to convince her he wanted things to work between them, and she seemed to believe. Hell, she’d practically eaten it up. Not that he was lying—he really did want things to work out. He was sure she’d believe anything she told him now too. She was in his corner, no matter what.

He was going to have to steer clear of these people after this mess got cleaned up. Maybe one day when he wasn’t under so much scrutiny, he’d be able to go back to helping their efforts. If that day ever came, that is. Who knew how long he’d have to keep his nose clean for?

He stood and started pacing his room. It wasn’t a cell, not exactly. He had a decent-sized bed, a bathroom, a small table and a couple of chairs, and the room to himself. But just on the other side of the door stood a guard who would make sure he didn’t leave. It was better than what he’d gotten after the incident with those batarian slavers, so he took that as a sign the evidence wasn’t exactly conclusive yet.

He paced the room, his mind reeling over what he was going to tell Han. Maybe if he slept on it, he would have a clearer head and know what to say? So he did.

For three nights he slept on it, pacing his small space during the day and tossing and turning in his bed at night. This was serious, and he had no idea how he was going to explain himself to Hannah. The Alliance was easy. Han? Not so much.

On his fourth day in custody—a brutally boring, interminable time he spend exercising and shifting between novels he couldn’t focus on—he took a deep breath and decided a text was the best option. He was supposed to be home by now anyway. She must be worried sick.

//MS: Geneva mission got complicated. Tell Alli I’m tied up on Arcturus working out details. Be home soon.

He watched the blinking cursor for a good fifteen minutes before sending the message. When he finally stopped agonizing and sent the message, he laid down on his bed and covered his face with a pillow. If he was lucky—and he was usually lucky—Han would take the two short sentences at face value. He hadn’t lied, after all. It’s not like she could accuse him on that front. His ‘tool beeped.

//HS: Good to know.

What was that supposed to mean? He closed the interface and took a deep breath. It didn’t mean anything. There was no way she could know about what had happened. She was just glad he had checked in with her after being so late coming home. It happened with spec ops soldiers. Sometimes timelines didn’t work out. Han knew that. Of course she did. He had nothing to worry about from her.

He started rehearsing what he’d tell Hannah about why he’d been delayed in coming home. He wasn’t comfortable with a direct lie, but he couldn’t tell her the truth either. But he would have to tell her something. Maybe if he framed everything through White’s words? Technically, that wouldn’t be a lie.

Two days before his grand jury, and one day after he’d messaged Han—fuck he was going out of his mind with boredom—his door hissed open, and he assumed it was White coming to break up the monotony and work out any last kinks in his story. Maybe they could cast enough doubt on the prosecution that the charges would be dropped and he’d never have to go to trial at all.

But it definitely wasn’t White at his door.

“Thank you,” Hannah said to the guard. “I won’t be long.”

Michael’s stomach dropped. He wanted to do something, say something, anything. But he was frozen, dumbfounded, in place as Hannah walked calmly to the table and sat where White had been only days ago. Why was she here? How did she know where to find him?

She pulled up her sleeve and removed her ‘tool from her wrist.

No. Not her ‘tool. His ‘tool. The black stripe down the side of it was unmistakable.

“Han—”

She held up a hand to stop him and said, “You’ve made me an accessory after the fact.”

Not plaintive. Not angry. But even, like she was remarking on the weather. The coolness of her tone sent a chill down his spine, and he swallowed hard. Where the hell had she found that ‘tool? And how had she found out what was on it? He’d deleted everything the last time he used it. The thought came to mind that she wouldn’t be an accessory if she’d left well enough alone, but he didn’t dare speak those words. Not with the way she sat as serenely, as calmly as the eye of a hurricane at the table with her hands clasped loosely together in her lap. God, why did she have to be so curious? Couldn’t she just have thought he was having an affair like a normal person and let him dispel that doubt? Why did she have to go digging around? And who was helping her? Who else knew what he’d been doing?

“Han, this isn’t what it looks like,” he said and took the seat across from her. How was he going to explain this? He didn’t know how he was going to explain it, but he had to say something that would get her on his side again. He’d think of something.

“It’s funny,” she continued as if he hadn’t said anything. “I didn’t know about the Geneva incident when I arrived on the station. I came here with the intention of going to Drescher to call in a favor and ask her for your sealed records because I needed to know for sure why you would be trafficking classified weapons research. I came here because I wanted to give you the chance to give me a reason that wasn’t what any of this looks like.” She said the words pointedly and pinned him to his chair with her stare. Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed—yeah, she was angry. Angrier than he’d ever seen her. “Then you told me about Geneva. And the admiral had a lot to say about that little incident.”

Hannah leaned forward and put her hands on the table. “You brought these people into our lives, Michael. You brought dangerous people into our daughter’s life, and as long as you associate with them, she’s at risk. She deserves so much better than that.” To his surprise, her shoulders slumped, and she let her head fall forward into her hands as she rested her elbows on the table. “I deserve better than that,” she said, defeated and almost too quiet to hear.

The impulse to put his arms around her was strong, but he resisted—there was no way Han would want him touching her right now.

She looked up, meeting his gaze again—the anger was gone, but it was replaced by something more . . . upsetting, unnerving. No tears betrayed her, but her eyes glistened and her brow furrowed. “Did you ever think of me in all of this?” she said, her voice breaking.

“Han, please let me explain—” he started but she waved away his words and leaned back again.

“Even if you did say something true at this point, I wouldn’t believe it,” she said.

She took up the ‘tool, and in one fluid motion, she ripped away the black strip, much to Michael’s surprise. She cleared her throat and said, “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to plead no contest to the charges. You’re going to serve your time. You’re going to tell the authorities everything you both know and think about who you worked for when you let those bastards on Geneva, which should get you a reduced sentence.” She stood again and made her way toward the door. “I won’t tell anyone about the arms trafficking, but that’s the only favor I’ll do for you. A big one, if you ask me. When these people are out of your life, I’ll consider letting you back into Alli’s.” She paused. “You’ll hear from my lawyer in the next week or so.” She hesitated with her hand raised to knock on the door. She turned toward him and said quietly, “Please, Michael.”

He wanted to go after her. He wanted to protest, to tell her she had everything wrong. He was protecting their family, not putting them in danger. But a lead weight kept him in place.

Michael sat rooted to his chair for a long time after she left. Was any of this really happening? If she’d let him say anything at all, he would’ve been able to explain himself and the people he worked with. He could explain that, yes, they might be dangerous, but not to humans. Or if they ever were, it was only in self-defense or in service to the greater good of protecting more people. They wouldn’t have hurt anyone on Geneva if the plan had worked out. He wasn’t putting Alli in danger—the opposite, in fact. He was making sure the galaxy was safer for her, and these people were doing the same.

But he knew Han wouldn’t hear any of that.

“They’re gun runners, Michael,” he knew she’d say. “Who do you think they are?”

A fair point. But still. She didn’t understand. She wouldn’t understand.

What would happen if he didn’t do what she said? What if he got the charges dropped and also promised not to pass along classified documents anymore? Couldn’t they compromise? Why did he have to go to prison? Out of some kind of misguided principle?

Han’s ultimatum rang in his ears, and he felt like he was going to be sick. There would be no compromise; he knew that already. He was going to have to spend a significant part of his future in prison, and he was going to have to face Alli from behind a glass wall several inches thick. She would believe the things she was going to hear about him. She was going to look at him like a convict, like a traitor to the Alliance, and he was going to have to live with that somehow. Because the alternative that was that he would never see her again at all. Han hadn’t said it like that, but she’d been abundantly clear.

Han. She was sending her lawyer to him. So she was . . .

Fuck.

His thoughts chased each other for hours. The guard came in once with his dinner—which he didn’t touch—and then again to take away the tray. At lights out, he lay in his bed, but his eyes refused to close. Han’s face filled his mind, and he couldn’t shake the look of betrayal he’d seen there. What if he’d told her about Cerberus and everything he’d done for them before the Geneva incident went FUBAR? Would she have been more understanding? Would she be putting him in this position now? Would she be on his side? He scrubbed his palms over his face and forced his eyes to close. Those questions were useless and their answers didn’t matter because they didn’t change anything about his current predicament.

There was no getting around it. Han won. He’d do everything she asked of him. If there was a way to get her to look at him with . . . anything but that angry, devastated look, this was it. She wanted him to go to prison—to serve his time, as she’d said—and he would. Not happily, but obediently. Maybe then she’d reconsider . . .

Michael felt himself drift, but sleep eluded him for what seemed like endless hours. When the lights in his room flickered on, he gave up. He got up, cleaned up, and asked the guard to call his lawyer. By 0800, White was seated across the small table from Michael once again.

He sat passively as Michael explained his decision. When Michael finally finished, White said simply, “No.”

Michael groaned in annoyance. “I want a different lawyer. I’ll take whoever JAG assigns me. Hell, I’ll represent myself if I have to. This is my decision. Not yours. Not our mutual friend’s. Mine.”

White’s stillness was unsettling, but he persisted. “No. Major Shepard, your intentions are admirable, but unfortunately, you will not be allowed to serve a prison sentence, let alone reduce it by divulging such private information. Furthermore, our friend still considers you a valuable asset. He would much prefer to continue your relationship. He has authorized me to present you with an alternative option.”

Michael shook his head. “An alternative option?” Then realization dawned on him, and he knew that none of what he’d said was new information to White. “How can he have an alternative option?”

“I bugged your room when I was here,” White said dispassionately. “I can imagine that fact is not a pleasing one, but it’s standard practice for detained operatives, nothing personal. Our friend has considered Commander Hannah Shepard’s offer and would like to make a counteroffer.”

The impulse to pummel White into a bloody mass was strong, but Michael tamped it down. “Talk fast,” he said, grinding his jaw.

“Your colleague Greenwood’s exit strategy has been set in motion. In a week, she’ll be transferred to Vancouver to be held there; however, there will be an accident, and there will be no body.”

“You’re going to kill her? After everything she’s done for . . . our mutual friend?” Michael felt himself shaking with anger. He didn’t particularly like Greenwood, but she was a good soldier and committed to humanity’s welfare. She didn’t deserve to be dispatched so callously.

White nodded once. “In a sense. In one week, Bethany Greenwood will be declared dead. The following day, the world will meet Caroline Meyerhoff. Caroline has an extra seat on her shuttle registered to Gabriel O’Connor.” White paused before continuing. “Will Mr. O’Connor make his flight?”

Michael huffed. “What about the other guy? The one who fucked up everything to begin with. Give him that seat.”

White returned his glance to his datapad. “Mr. Ames has been reassigned. My employer believes he will be more useful serving his sentence. His particular skillset—or lack thereof—is more useful inside a prison than outside of it.”

Michael paused to let himself think about what exactly someone like Ames would be assigned to do on the inside. He’d guessed there were more of these people around than there appeared to be—to engage the batarians on the scale they had, they’d need quite a few people on the inside feeding them information and resources—but only now was he starting to understand exactly how many of them there were. He leaned forward and said, “Let’s just say I don’t take this . . . exit strategy. What happens then?”

White gave no pause before giving his answer. “My employer will assume you no longer wish to continue your friendship. He will maneuver to preserve his existing assets accordingly.”

Michael pushed back his chair and started to pace, his hands on his hips. “So, I go with you or you kill me. That’s what you’re telling me?”

White shook his head. “Those are your words, Major. I’ve said no such thing.”

Michael snorted. This manipulation was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “Yeah, right. You’ve said nothing at all.” A thought came to him that sent a chill down his spine. Had Han been right? “What happens to my family? If I don’t go with you.”

White folded his hands on the table and said, “The commander’s resolution to reveal our friend’s operations poses a problem. We prefer to deal with problems before they progress.”

Michael rounded on him, pulling him from his chair and slamming him against the wall. The only thing stopping him from snapping this fucker’s neck right now was the guard standing on the other side of the door. White seemed to know this and hardly reacted to Michael’s sudden outburst of violence at all.

“However,” he continued patiently, “she also appears to be largely ignorant of who our friend is and what he’s trying to accomplish with his operation. The less she knows, the better, wouldn’t you say, Major? It seems then that you offering more information would only create more problems for her. Well, only one more problem, specifically.”

Han’s words came ringing back to him. She’d been right: he’d brought these people into her life. All the anger went out of him, replaced by resignation and nausea. He dropped White and backed away.

“What do you need me to do?”

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Update on Mark:

He tried to kill the doctor.

#GoddessProblems

He took the double prescribed mood stabilizer medication.

Then they allowed him to treadmill exercise because he doesn't want to be worn out from the pill or dazed and confused

1. That counter acts the pill and activated fighting hormones. The whole point of his exercise.

2. Actual emergency which he will figure out when the pill stsrts working and rewiring his brain will counter act any sluggishness he feels from the pill

3. Hes not allowed to exercise.

4. He can do push ups and sit ups only with some one he can trust. Which i will insist will be the doctor he tried to kill. Except he will train the doctor. In his little hospital room as if he was introducing me to the way he exercises. Because he will exercise in the bedroom when I am there and we are married. So he is to treat the doctor as though the doctor is me. But will call him "doctor" and give him the respect that the doctor and i both deserve. So calm patience and all that. I can't do sit ups because the babies and all that and I rather do weights than push ups. But I will sit in the floor with him and sometimes I'll do Like 5 each if,i need a break from what i am working on. Mark would be mean and say if i needed help then i had to work out which i refused if he talked to me like that. But doctor will match. Doctor gets tired then Mark and he both stop for the day.

5. Doctor works out more than Mark so he asks Mark can i push you? Because i want to. I want to be mean like you are to Sabrina. But we need to figure out how not to be mean. Fight the endorphins that allow us to push further. They already started a basic structure for this discussion.

Because Mark steals my excess energy. So today i went to the store and was walking and had to go sit in the car due to intense hip pain which Mark believed is because he is angry at God because he dosssnt want me on Earth. So he takes my energy instead of asking God for more.

So he took it out on the Doctor.

Mark doesn't want me on Earth unless it is perfect. Well obviously it was perfect once. And hasn't been for a very very long time. So why hide the fact it sucks? I already know. And i have my own injuries i was born with that cause pain.

So that he is reminded to care for Me.

The rule is, he cares for me then i help him care for the Earth.

He forgot. Due to his Alien foster mother whom he believed over reality and truth.

And so like the doctor said Which I didn't know, is he should ask God because I am here. And I'm staying here. And so he has to get over his anger

Even if h3 can't get over it He still needs to look over the fact of his hate. He needs to help me by not using me and using God.

The doctor used very different words and didn't quite get him this far. And that is okay.

They first had to give him sedatives the amount a horse would take.

Mark sounds crazy like we all do and are taught to believe when Gods are brought up and aliens and such. So although it does And sometimes I think man I look crazy and like i shouldn't be believed, i know what i can see and i know how it is there and how it is settled in truth.

Yet there is destruction, especially in Marks mind of the information.

Such as stealing my energy. Its likely I have a a child sitting on the hip bone. So it sits on my hip bone or on my anus and causes me to shit myself. Today I have had to shit 5 times. Tiny shits so Wendy is having difficulty to be comfortable right now. And she says it is Because he is in the hospital because he promised he wouldn't mess up. So right now she's in a nightmare.

Wendy and Peter don't want to grow up without a dad and they are by my butt. Gas. Farts. Passing wind instead of passing gas is said in some cultures.

Then Jazmine and Jazper are in front of them. Holidays are on Marks side. Christmas and Cupid his sons. Constantly Christmas. Cutely Cupid. His goals.

What we know is on my side.

But he hasn't grasped Jazper so thats why hes in the mental hospital.

And he's getting Jazmine. Via my anger.

So the doctors job is to reverse the damage done by the foster mother. If he can't reverse it then he's too remove it.

So what the doctor Said to ask God for help instead if stealing from me and to help build a relationship with God

Which Mark didn't want to.

So he was told then by the doctor about how hurting me isn't good and how if hes angry at God then he should hurt God and take his powers

To which he replied he wants me

And so the doctor said it's good So they just need to go around him wanting to hurt me

Which Mark did explain came from the foster mother.

And so what did happen was inthe physical kill attempt:

The doctor came to check about the pill and it's effects and Mark stood in his sweats: oh im good here let me show you

The doctor noted he was still in hid sweats and he had a psycho look which he mentioned through his vocal cords

And Mark said "good so glad you noticed" and attempted to choke him

So Mark got punched in the face, right hook. Which didn't knock him out.

The unprepared nurses were called for a sedation while the doctor sweeped Mark into a sleeper hold. Which is also not what i do but ill tell the doctor.

I use two arms, one around the throat and one under the pits. If they fight or struggle I hang them from their neck. If they don't, i hang from their arm pits.

Just so if they get to that point in the relationship.

This way it's a reminder I will take control, I have the ability to kill but I won't unless they do something i perceive as a threat.

Sitting is better, too, because then they have took be on their knees and you wrap your legs around them for extra control. Like on a chair or stool.

So the doctor held him while Mark faked sleep and then as soon as the nurse shot him up with the sedation in the hip, he stood, shook the doctors hand, took off his sweats and got in bed.

So Mark said he didn't want to talk but doctor said thats his job so he stood under the tv at the foot of the bed.

And it was progressive but he said he wanted to talk to me before he agreed it was a good talk.

So Doctor asked what I would do instead of shaking hands and he said squeeze or shake his foot. And since he wouldn't agree squeeze is better.

So Mark still trying to size him up told him to squeeze his heel has hard as possible. The doctor did squeeze hard. But not full strength

So Mark doesn't know how to fight the doctor. How hard the doctor can fight so all the time he spent preparing his mind to over throw him will not work.

The doctor did say "i did that friendly" and reminded him to listen to me.

...

Mark says the doctor talks very slow and professional says the same things i do but I throw down and the doctor instead of presdnting it that way says it's an opportunity so instead of being tossed in the corner bloody and left to die, the doctor makes it feel like all the doors are opening and he can breathe,

So i am an eye for an eye. Definitely ra and not Catholic. Be sure to read about the creation of Lent for human trafficking to be "blessed"

And so we can see the doctor seems to be that the doctor is also.

His job is to provide opprotunities to the mind -- the opposite of his Foster Mother, Roxanne.

Our job is to provide opportunities to the physical body. And take opportunities from evil that take opportunities from good or the general public in mass quantities.

And so our paths are parallel and similar. Which is why Mark did go and he did go willingly and called 911 for himself.

...

Right now Mark trusted his foster mother like a Goddess and worshipped her.

So now he knows from his own information that she was wrong.

And so he doesn't know where people are coming from. Or why and so everyone is considered to be 3vil right now.

He was telling me how Boss was evil and shit yesterday. And so i told him to fuck himself he was stupid and he cleared himself up

So what is happening is the opportunities he had to release his hate against the foster mom can present themselves to turn against people he loves.

Its happened before but we were younger and ibwas able to rearrange things so that they became smarter at work and i avoided the Foster Mother totally.

I removed who taught you that stupid shit and instead said "what are you guys doing?"

"That's wrong we will need to do this"

And since i had began cleaning the southwest wth such success i didn't have a problem.

In 2010 I couldn't cut a clear path. I could not even mow the grass. And certainly couldn't set it on fire.

The doctor will be able to set it on fire. I read an article about how the fires in Australia have burned so much they revealed some old canals and paths that they used long ago.

So the doctor will do that. Along with me.

The doctor sets the fire and then we all help keep it burning. The difference with Australia is he knows the canals are there. His brain knows the old pathways fo think.

We just gotta kill the poison on top, the enterwoeven vines that are crushing and preventing his success to be himself.

Vines can grow thicker than a Sequoya (sequoia) tree and taller. The biggest and thickest trees in the California forest.

So we just gotta light this shit on fire.

Its the basics of curing amnesia. Easiest way I cam explain it.

Mark kept putting wet tree branches down with fire retardant.

But Boss said lets stop. So that's one reason why Mark turned on him first and so quickly

Because the Columbians which are actually our friends from the USA, kidnapped. Came and Mark wouldn't listen to sanity.

So that's why Boss got caught up.

So everyone is in danger. But as they progress i can make sense for him to keep everyone safe.

Because while he will turn he doesn't want to kill innocent people.

So it will be a series of Kidd Rock close calls except the doctor will have to fight back and not plead for his life.

Because Mark isn't going to listen to anyone or anything when he has psycho eyes.

But hes fine enough to understand the double sleeper. And hes says hes fine if the doctor does that... Which can mean multiple things.

He says he means he went there willingly for help and he knows he's not insane but he acts criminally insane.

Which I will reply i don't believe he isn't insane. I'm quite sure he is.

He is also criminally insane on top of that. So this week is to acknowledge it. Begin the fires, so i can visit next week if i can get a ride.

Then in 2 weekish to test the ravaging fire is working and can still burn proper in public with me.

Then he will return to the doctors care in the hospital. And we will have a series of these events.

He totally burned out the medication completely though i can tell. So if he gets a simple dose of the min it might work

Unfortunately our bodies will reject high doses of something sometimes and with certain attitude and such it won't help. And so he may very well need two pills seperated through the day.

Then if that works we can try a double dose next week.

I do a pill 2 hours pill then 6-8 hours pill. For pain. Then it's 4 hours. Then 2. And of course I should be sleeping but if I don't it will same cycle with pills lasting up to 10 hours. Unless i sleep then it usually resets unless I'm making very good and clear way through an issue. Then it may not reset or i may not have any pain I'll have new pain that isn't arthritis.

So it seems he's all set. In a rubber prison like room.

And the doctor is bigger than he is, muscle wise.

[devilslcg]

FAIR WARNING: This actually is horrible. XD BUT I DIGRESS- I present to you, One Seun, going to meet her sweet cook at the dock when he comes back to her island~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You look like a woman possessed.”

Seun couldn’t help but laugh, scooping up another ladle-full of broth. “I feel like it. But you know, I wouldn’t have to be if you’d get me the egg noodles from the cabinet.” The sooner she got her soup going, the faster she could get down to the docks – she’d never leave without making sure her assistant could handle the last bit of cooking on his own. “I’ll need you to keep a very close eye on this while I’m gone-”

“You’re worrying too much, Miss Seun.” The younger cook shrugged, passing her a bag of noodles she hadn’t even seen him get. “I can make a simple chicken soup. Did you know the ladle was invented in-”

“Honey, I don’t mean to cut you off from another fascinating lesson on ladles today, but I do have a boyfriend to meet. Tip that pot for me.”

For the first time all morning, he did as requested, carefully lifting and tilting the oversized pot of broth so she could both get it into another, larger pot, and scoop out the remaining bits of chicken. A much as she loved her assistant, eyes wide and bright and bearing boundless enthusiasm for his studies and cooking, even she had to admit she could do without the random lessons and trivia. Especially when Sanji was due to arrive in port at any minute, and she wanted to be there to meet him.

“You’re fidgeting.”

With the broth transferred and pan set back down, the brunette glanced down at herself; sure enough, she was shifting her weight from foot to foot repeatedly, free hand playing with the edge of a nearby towel. How had she not noticed that? “I’m sorry. And please don’t think I’m excited to leave you alone. This is just the first time Sanji’s been back since Christmas, and I’m excited – It’s been four months. Four very, very long months.”

He laughed, pulling his hat off so he could scratch the back of his head. “It’s fine, Miss Seun. I know how excited you get when Mister Sanji comes back. It’s like watching a married woman waiting for her anniversary dinner – You fidget and fuss over everything.”

“I don’t fuss-” she paused, picking out a speck of black floating in the soup, “-I just… I’ll give you fidgeting.”

“That was pepper, Miss Seun. You added it before you transferred the broth.”

“….Hush you. It looked like something else.”

“Did it really?”

Drying off her ladle, the brunette pointed it at him, lips quirking into an amused smile. “Now you- Remember who’s the assistant here.” It was a joke, spoken in a light airy tone; even she knew he was right, considering she’d woken up an hour early to help the cleaning staff, just so everything would be absolutely perfect. Made her bed to the point of perfection, gotten a bottle of wine to set aside, had plans for a quiet dinner alone that evening… He couldn’t have hit the nail on the head any harder.

Seun set her spoon aside, reaching out to brush a few strands of dark hair from the boy’s face. She’d been working with him long enough that the sisterly urges to spoil him were more than familiar to them both, resulting in his light chuckle, closing his eyes with a small smile. “Besides. I’m not a married woman. But ah… Am I honestly that bad?”

“You are,” he replied, tugging his hat back into place. “Like waiting for a husband to come home from a long, dangerous trip. I know Mister Sanji has a hard job, but…”

“Mm…” Her chocolate-colored gaze shifted to the counter for a moment. He had no idea she was in love with a pirate, and frankly, she wanted to keep it that way. The fewer people in the inn who knew who Sanji really was, the better, though she honestly doubted any of them would give him up to the marines at this point. He’d been too kind to them all, too much of a helping hand and friend for them to even think of giving him up.

“Why aren’t you married yet?”

The question was an unexpected one, the brunette jerking in surprise. “I-I… Well… He hasn’t asked?”

“…You could. I see it in your eyes. You love him more than you love cooking.”

“And that is the oddest comparison I’ve ever heard, even if I do love to cook.” She undid the knot in her apron as quickly as possible, pulling the stained fabric away from her body the second she could. With it came a glimpse of the ring he’d given her for Christmas; what… What would married life even be like? “I… Mm-mm. I appreciate the fact you’re all for my relationship, but until we can settle down somewhere together, we just… Can’t.”

“Makes sense. Did you know marriage was a concept that came around in-”

“If I walk into your room, am I going to find a library or a bed?”

A sheepish smile was her reply, drawing a giggle from her lips. Even if she’d never outright said it, she loved her assistant, trivia and lessons included. He was barely 18, not that much younger than she, but she couldn’t help feeling like he was her kid brother and treating him as such. “Will you be all right on your own? I know I was teaching you how to make my signature beef stew yesterday, but…”

He waved a hand, and for a moment, she felt like she was back in her uncle’s home, being shooed out of his kitchen as a child. “I can wait a couple of days. He’ll be here soon, right? Go meet him.”

“Thank you.” Leaning in, she pecked a kiss to his cheek, winning a grin as she was darting out the kitchen’s back door. Granted, it meant she’d have to run halfway around the inn, but at least she could enjoy a glimpse of the rustic bench sitting outside. She couldn’t wait to tell him how much it was being used-!

Only when she’d reached the market did she finally slow, refusing to bump into anyone if she could help it. As much as her heart sang at the idea of seeing the blonde again, she couldn’t bring herself to take the chance, knowing all too well how dropping even an apple could ruin a meal… Or be their only meal, she reminded herself, carefully picking through the thin crowd. A single apple to get them through the day…

But that was a time in her life she didn’t want to think about, forcing the memories back into their mental drawer. Just in time, too, for someone to grab her hand and lift it above her head, twirling her in an all-too familiar greeting that got her laughing once more. Her eyes darted up to look at the smiling face of one of her favorite shopkeepers, big, burly, and a good foot and a half taller than she was, gruff and scarred appearance hiding a gentle heart. “Sparrow! Are the tomatoes good today?”

“Aye, lass- Though you look a little too dressed up for tomatoes,” he pointed out, giving the small brunette a good glancing over. “A date, mayhaps?”

Seun gave his hand a little squeeze, the other grabbing her skirt in her fingertips to hold it out to the side to be shown off. “Is it too dressy? My boyfriend’ll be reaching port any time now – I wanted to wear something new for him.” She’d thought the dark yellow sundress to be a little muted compared to the brighter colors she usually wore, but maybe it was too bright…

Sparrow broke out into laughter, releasing her hand and patting her head, instead. “You look beautiful, lass. If he isn’t floored by you, then he’s a piece of coral.”

“…Coral?”

“Nice to look at, but dense.”

Her own giggles bubbled free, hands quickly rising to cover her mouth. Coral wasn’t that dense, she wanted to point out, but why bother with an ex-sailor? He knew that better than she did! “Trust me. He’s pretty to look at and brilliant. Sweet, kind, generous… Oh Sparrow, I’ve missed him so much. I know I can’t cage him and keep him here, but it’s so quiet without him. Lonely, even, and I’m surrounded by friends.”

“You’re glowing. He must be somethin’ else to have our little lass beaming so brightly.” Setting down the crate tucked under his other arm, he offered his hand, grinning as she laid her far smaller one on it. With a chuckle, Sparrow guided her hand a little higher on his arm, and after a second, she caught the hint to curl her arms around his for an escort to the port, lightly bumping her forehead against his bicep in a gesture of thanks. “You’ve never brought him by the shop.”

All at once, her excitement at having a friendly escort and her smile faded away. How, exactly, did she explain to him that was because he was the one who’d brought her to the island in the first place? That she wasn’t ready for her affectionate friend to spill stories of her life before the inn? Aside from her uncle, he was the only one to know how she’d been on her own between losing her parents and being taken in by her only remaining relative. The last thing she needed was for him to tell any of it to Sanji before she was ready for him to know… Which, honestly, would be never. She was as open and honest as he was, but she wasn’t ready to tell him that.

Unfortunately for her, he could read her like an open book, though thankfully waited until they’d left the market and started walking down the far less populated path leading straight to the harbor. “You think I’d tell him stories, lass? I promised you and your uncle I’d speak no secrets the moment you admitted he’s a pirate.” The disapproving look from the former sailor made her shrug; she’d long since stopped caring what Sparrow, the inn, and her uncle thought about her being in love with the infamous ‘Black Leg’ Sanji.

“I just… I’m not ready for him to know I slept on benches in towns for almost a year before my uncle found me. Or how difficult it was for him to adjust to having a child in his house. You know Uncle Elliot is as much of a bachelor as you are.” A heavy sigh passed through her lips. “I love you both, but I also love Sanji, with all my heart. I don’t care if he’s a pirate, a cook, or a squirrel, Sparrow, I see nothing but a kind and generous man with a smile that makes my heart and stomach both do flips. Someone who makes me feel more loved than anything and anyone else in this world. He just happens to be a pirate cook.”

She could feel his arm lift and muscles shift with the shrug of his shoulders. “That may be, lass, but we worry for ye. I trust him with your heart, and with you, if you’re still happy after a year. I just want to meet him.”

“Is that why you’re escorting me like this?”

“Aye, it may be.”

Thankful for the slight change in topic, she hid a laugh against his arm. She knew that unless Sanji raised a hand against her, Sparrow wouldn’t do a thing to stop them, especially if he could see just how happy she was. “Well, thank you. I’ll have to make up a batch or two of those garlic and herb rolls you like so much.”

She’d be the first to admit her old friend looked like he could punch a hole in a tree, but the way he lit up was more like a child in a candy store. “For an escort to the harbor? Lass, if that’s all it takes to get ye to make me those rolls, what do I get for making you two dinner tonight?”

“A pat on the arm, because I have plans for him tonight.” The dirt beneath their feet faded into the cobblestones and wood of the harbor, Sparrow glancing down to watch the cook look around for the familiar ship. She’d been there to greet him and see him off enough times that she knew exactly what it looked like… And the moment she spotted it at one of the side docks, she brightened even more, lips spreading into a wide smile. “He’s here- That’s his ship, Sparrow- He’s here-!”

He laughed, patting her hands as he tried to hold her by his side with their slow pace. He didn’t want her to get hurt, even she knew that, but she wanted at that ship so badly-! “Calm yourself, lass! You act as though he’s been at sea for years!”

“It feels like years!” she managed out, voice full of the excitement already obvious to her older friend. Stepping over a bundle of rope, she shook her head; wasn’t she supposed to be calm and collected for this? It’d only been a few months… A few months of a cold, lonely bed, waking without that familiar smile, always feeling like there was a part of her missing when he was gone- Forget being calm and collected!

“Ah, there. You said he was blonde, aye? He just stepped off-”

Sparrow barely had the words out before Seun was running down the dock, calling out to the pirate before leaping at him. Arms around his shoulders, she held on tight with the little spin and laugh she got in return, completely over cloud nine just to be back in his arms. “San! I missed you- I missed you so much-!”

Still chuckling, Sanji dipped his head down, peppering her lips in kisses before connecting with a more solid, loving gesture. “Mmm.. I’m home, love-”

“So am I.”

“…Hmm? How so?”

“My home is back.”

Nuzzling her face into his shoulder, she let herself drift off into a world of pure bliss. Her home was back… And she honestly never wanted to let him go again.