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inknopewetrust · 3 years

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A Little Chaos

Summary: A thief finds herself at the center of the kidnapping of two girls and has the attention one very attractive detective.

Pairing: Detective Loki x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Criminal activity, flirting, sexual references, brief choking, probably 16+ based on content but no explicit smut. A mention of pedophilia but nowhere near in detail.

A/N: I don't think I've ever written something like this and can I just say that I really loved it!? So, I really hope you all do too! Requests are currently CLOSED but I hope to open them soon again and with new characters to add to my list. Check out my Masterlist for all other works. Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom! I just loved the idea so much and thanks for being so kind about all the delays!

One - pick the lock

Two - lift up the screen and frame as quietly as possible but make absolutely no rough work of it.

Three - slip on the shoe covers and assess the gloves before entering through the window.

Four - get to work.

That was always the structure, no questions asked. Though, you noticed the news beginning to trace your patterns. You had made a hit in another neighborhood two weeks ago and because the news began reporting the patters, you were sure the police weren’t far behind.

And perhaps on that particular Thanksgiving, you shouldn’t have done another–or picked that house, rather.

Detective David Loki had a million different things running through his mind on a daily basis. When a case such as the Dover-Birch one stuck itself in the middle of an already pending investigation of burglaries in the Conyer’s area, he had a hunch of who he would investigate first. But he couldn’t get to that immediately because Keller Dover convinced him and his superiors that the RV belonging to Alex Jones was the first and only way to go.

But even after interrogating the man who had a child-like innocence to him, David Loki was convinced there was something more to the story. There had to have been a connection to who burglarized the Dover’s that same night and where the girls could be... he was certain, but then he wasn’t because he wasn’t sure you were the kind of person who would kidnap two innocent girls.

On a particularly slow Tuesday, no new leads had come in and the investigation had stalled because Alex Jones had now gone missing without a trace. Although he was doing everything he could, Loki was far from finding a solution and decided to take the initiative into his own hands and dive into the file he had been working on for nearly five months–the one into you and your less-than-stellar activities. The post-it note sticking out of the side of the manilla folder contained an address to an apartment in the center of town. He plucked it out, tucked it into his pocket and walked straight out of the station.

You weren’t worried about being considered a suspect in the kidnapping of two girls. You had no connection to the Dover’s, Birches’, or the Jones’, as well as no connection to the scene of the crime. You were always careful, and the Dover’s had no security cameras. So, when your comm buzzed in the middle of the day, you weren’t expecting it to be the police.

“Hello?”

“Ms. L/n? This is Detective Loki with the Conyer’s Police Department. I have a few questions I would like to ask you.” The voice was cackled with the circuited communication buzzer but you heard the man loud and clear. You also knew exactly who that was.

Detective David Loki was an infamous creature of Conyers. One day he just seemed to sprout out of nowhere and into the public sphere, but you had known him for a while. You were never friends, and you were sure until now he didn’t even know your name, but he was the star pupil of the town. And the spotlight he was in, he absolutely hated it. Every time his picture appeared in the paper or when he had to speak on the television relayed that message and you laughed in pity. The poor man just wanted to do his job and that was one part he didn’t sign up for.

“Can I ask what this is regarding?”

“The investigation into Joy Birch and Anna Dover. I just have a few questions I’d like to ask you if you would step-”

“I’ll buzz you up.” You pressed the button and unlocked the door, opening it just enough for you to rest on the frame with one arm on the door and the other on your hip.

Another thing you knew about Detective David Loki was that he was one of the most attractive people you had ever laid eyes on. The man was a walking dream but unfortunately, on the other side of the law which was far from promising when it came to your vivid imagination.

“How nice of you to not barge into my home, Detective.” You called out to him as he appeared on the steps landing just down the hall from your door. Loki gave no smile but shoved an orange post-it into his jacket as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“This surely won’t take long.”

With a nod you moved away from the door, shutting it closed behind you. With the sudden and unexpected presence of this man who was a fine line between formal detective and loose cop, there was an urge to be exactly the opposite of what he wanted you to be. He had been trailing you for just enough time to learn patterns in your life, the people you associate with, the fact that you had a degree and a decent job. You had an apartment to call your own, a car that wasn’t stolen and yet you continued to break into people's homes and steal curious objects for what? Consignment sales? He wasn’t sure. But you weren’t going to give him the answers he was looking for. You enjoyed the life you built for yourself...even if you had to steal and sell things to arrive at ends meet to pay for everything in your life.

“So... what can I do for you?”

“Can you recall where and what you were going on the night of Thursday, November 28th?”

“Thanksgiving?” You asked with a raised brow and he nodded. Loki pulled out no notebook to take notes, rather he watched every movement. He was trying to identify guilt, but you were a casual sleuth. It wasn’t a game he was used to because all of his suspects eventually gave in.

“I got up around 8:30, maybe 9 and ate some breakfast, um I-” You took a seat on the arm of your couch, running a hand over your mouth trying to “remember” what exactly you were doing a few days ago.

“-took a shower and then got started on my dish to pass at my parents dinner. I made sweet potatoes and stuffing-or dressing... I don’t know what you call it.” Loki was far from amused that you were making this appear less than serious. He couldn’t let himself believe that you were stupid enough to believe he wasn’t there on behalf of the story that captured the attention of the entire nation, so he didn’t believe a word you said.

“When that was done I got ready, did my makeup, and headed out to my parents where my sister and her family were meeting us to have dinner. Then I left their house around 7-ish and came home.”

“After dinner you went straight home?”

“Yes.”

You looked at him with an unfazed gaze which he met but didn’t buy. It was a game. A cat and mouse game that he wasn’t willing to bite into but it was too late, you already had him on a string. Loki would be lying if he didn’t find you attractive, even in the slightest. You were a beautiful woman, and it was because of how you looked that you’ve never been caught. You always covered every inch of your body and you looked unassuming. You had a perfectly pristine house, looked like someone who didn’t need to steal to live but then again, most of the time, all the people who do steal never look like they would because that is what people are taught not to look for.

“I made some phone calls late last week and someone in your family spilled that you weren’t there. In fact, you haven’t been to a family holiday since you graduated college nearly ten years ago. Bad relationship?”

“I can assure you–whoever you talked to, they weren’t there. I was there. I can tell you what I wore, what I ate, what was on the T.V. and what color shoe my nephew was wearing that day.”

“Those could just be good guesses?” Loki let his eyes wander around the small living space. He looked at the picture frames, the vases, the bins, the T.V. stand, everything that could have screamed “out of place” to him but nothing did.

“You didn’t happen to pass two little girls on your drive home, did you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Two girls. I’m sure you’ve seen their picture on the news.” Loki pointed to the T.V. at first but then dug into his pocket and pulled out a single picture of two girls photographed on a playground. They were smiling widely and happily at the person behind the camera. You had never seen the girls so you shook your head no and crossed your arms.

“No. I’ve never seen them before. Am I supposed to?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

“What are you implying, detective?”

“Do you know the house you broke into on Thursday, November 28th was the home of Anna Dover. Anna and her friend Joy went missing that same night after returning to the Dover residence to find a whistle. You were inside the home at the time we believe the girls went missing. So, tell me–do you know where the girls are?” Loki was zoned in accusation. The man was unwavering in his tone or his assumption and you would say it was scary if you didn’t find it attractive. Why, God WHY, did the detective working on this case have to be everything you looked for in a man? It would be so much easier if he were old and wrinkled but he was far far from it.

“Detective, if I would have known you would come into my home and accuse me of kidnapping two innocent girls, I wouldn’t have answered the ring.”

“Where are the two girls? Do you know where they are?”

“No. I told you I didn’t take the girls.”

“But you were in the house? Did you see the girls?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“What if I told you that you were a sloppy thief?”

“Excuse me?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. You were certain that you were not. There was never a time where you left as much as a trace of hair in a location that you hit.

“The bin.” Loki walked over to the T.V. stand that had three white bins tucked into slots. The bins were generally filled with junk except for one thing that the Dover’s told him went missing yesterday afternoon. A medium size blue decorative pot with yellow flowers on its sides. It was meant for shallow flowers as a table center piece that was gifted to Keller and Grace on their wedding day. Grace was distraught over it and it was sitting the left-most bin under the television. Loki pulled open the drawer and carefully took out the pot and you looked at it with a shrug.

“Where did you get this?”

“My mother.”

“I thought I told you that they told me you haven’t spoken to them in a decade?”

“Well I obviously spoke to them before that.”

“I am going to ask you again and I want an honest answer. Where did you get this pot?”

What were you supposed to do? The man literally cracked the code. If only you hadn’t chosen that house. Oh! How much easier your life would be.

“I plead the fifth.” Oh, fuck.

Loki set the pot carefully down and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. It would have been hot if you weren’t terrified of what came next. Then you made an ill-timed joke.

“You’re not pulling those out for another reason are you?” You didn’t even laugh yourself because he simply ignored it and motioned for you to stand and turn around.

“I am going to take you to the station and we will talk more there. Stand up, turn around, and give me your hands.”

“I already told you I don’t know where the girls are.” Ignored again but the feeling of him pushing your shoulder with his hand and taking your wrist was something you wished you would stop replaying in your mind.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything-”

The Conyer’s Police Station was wimpy compared to other cities. It was a small, single story brick building with three holding rooms and one interrogation room. You weren’t sure how long you sat in the holding cell, but it was nighttime by the time you were taken out of the room by another officer and into a brightly lit, slightly yellowed room with a mirrored window and a small desk with two chairs. There was a pencil and a pad of paper at the center of it but you were sure if it was going to be Detective Loki interrogating you, he wouldn’t need it.

The officer uncuffed you with no words spoken and pointed at the chair facing the window. You rubbed your wrists from the friction the metal left before taking a seat and staring into the glass where your reflection met your own. You had nothing to do with the two missing girls so you had nothing to give them, or rather, nothing to give Loki to further his investigation.

The man of the hour waltzed into the room a mere five minutes after you were sat down. He had a half-drank cup of coffee in one hand and a small grouping of papers in the other. Loki sat down, settling himself before looking up at you and beginning the interrogation.

“Please state your name, age, and address.”

You recited the information as told.

“How many homes a year do you burglarize?" Loki opened a file that was tucked under some papers with a series of pictures printed on a piece of computer paper. It was amalgamation of missing objects from families around Conyers. You were fucked, but you couldn't let him think that, or at least believe that you were guilty in anyway. Your stealing wasn't going to find those girls because you had no idea where in the world they were. You had never seen them before their faces were plastered on every hour of the news.

"Shouldn't my lawyer be here if you are going to accuse me of something?"

"Do you need a lawyer?"

"Do I, Detective?"

It was the attitude that angered him the most. A woman like you didn't need to steal. Based on your records, he had no reason to truly believe you would. Clean record. No screaming signs of intent or distrust popped out but he knew you were guilty. There was not a doubt. But there was something in that attitude that made him squirm. An attractive quality that he did not want to admit.

"If you answer the questions I ask truthfully, then no, you won't need a lawyer."

"Ask away." You leaned back in the chair with arms crossed and a determined narrowness to your eyes. It was a challenge. Try me, Detective. Do it, I dare you.

"When did you first start stealing?"

"When I was seven. My sister always had better stuff, so I took it."

"And that escalated to...what?" Instead of leaning back on his own chair, Loki leaned forward. His shoulders were hunched in an aggressive, intense tactic to scare you into admitting something that you didn't have any part of. He just wanted to find those girls and you happen to be a speed bump in the way.

"Minor petty theft. I never take anything over $500."

"How do you know what something is worth?"

"I'm sure you can find that in my file, Detective. Everything is there I am sure of it. You all know just how to frame the people you want. But I had nothing to do with those girls."

Loki's line of aggravation was growing thin. Sooner or later, attitude wasn't going to cut it and he was going to have to use the tactics he used on Alex Jones and other potential perpetrators on you. He never liked to get outright violent with women, but he couldn't let this go without trying to get something. The days were wearing thin and he needed to find Joy and Anna.

"You were in the Dover's house the night of the abduction. Where are the girls?"

"I told you I didn't have anything to do with that."

"Didn't or don't."

"Doesn't matter. I did not see them. I do not know where they are. Ruining children's lives isn't my MO, Detective-"

"But you do and you did! YOU were in that house. YOU were at the scene of the crime at the time they went missing. YOU are the one who knows what happened to those girls!" His voice was no longer steady and calm as he had been taught during his training. His string had snapped when in response, you laughed.

Loki flew out of his chair, rounded the table as the sound of his chair skidded across the floor and to the wall behind him. If you weren't so focused on him, you probably could have heard the surprised yells of the Detectives and Officers behind the mirror. The angered Detective roughly arrived at his destination–you, and grabbed the back of your hair, pulling your head back to look at him as he stood over you.

"Where the fuck are the girls?" It came out like a hiss. His eyes enraged with pain for the families and his own reputation if the case goes wrong and he doesn't find them in enough time. You weren't scared of him or his tactics. Rather, it was quite the opposite. If he wasn't attractive, you would have been disgusted but the man was the epitome of perfection and this scene would be one to get you off for years to come.

"I told you, I don't know where the girls are." He gripped your hair harder and you felt the chair waver underneath you. Still not scared.

"You're a liar, a fucking thief, and I don't believe you. Where are the girls? Do you like that sort of thing, huh? Do-"

"You sick fuck. I'm a thief not a fucking pedophile. I didn't take the girls!" You were slightly taken aback by his suggestion, but it was all a tactic. You had seen it on millions of police shows before. He just wanted answers, but he wasn't going to find them with you. Whatever in the sentence you had just spoken to him, Loki was worse off for it. He practically lifted you by the hair and charged you into the wall roughly. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make a point. He wasn't playing around but neither were you.

Loki's hand let go of your hair and one found itself on the wall next to your head as he closed in on you. You could feel his breathe on your face and his eyes pierced your goddamned soul. The other, well the other found itself right on your neck, holding you in place against the wall with a slight squeeze. Holy fuck.

"Keep this up Detective and I would have the means to believe this might lead to something else." The smile, your smile crept up on your face at your own assumption. You wouldn't complain if it did escalate to that.

"TELL ME WHERE THE GIRLS ARE? WHERE IS ANNA? WHERE IS JOY?"

"I told you I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE GIRLS ARE!"

There was something in your own anger that made him want to believe you didn't take the girls or had any clue where they were. He would hate to see a woman like you throw your life away for a career of crime. The proximity between the two of you was next to none. A knife wouldn't have been able to break the tension and the way he held you, unintentionally violent with a hand just a little too suggestively on your neck was a mistake but not one that he was readily going to admit. If this was any other situation, he might have let himself be willing to feel something more. But this was an interrogation, so he kept the face and squeezed just a little harder.

"Where are they? Tell me where they are?"

"Starting to sound like a broken record there. I would tell you again but I'm sure you have my admission of NOT KNOWING WHERE THEY ARE ON TAPE!"

Loki had enough and let your neck go with a jolt. His hands went to his belt where his cuffs were sitting and he pulled them out and turned you around. Your body was flush against the wall and one of his large, tattooed hands held your wrists together as he went to cuff them. This was another thing that would forever be engrained in your "sexy when it shouldn't be" file in your brain.

"Fine. You won't tell me where they are? Maybe a night in lock up will make you think." His voice was low, just at the base of your ear and his hot breath lingered on your neck as you could hear nothing but your heart beating out of your chest and the sound of cuffs closing.

But the man didn't get much further than that because the door to the room opened and like two deer in headlights, you both turned your heads to the sound of the intruder. It was another officer who looked both scared and amused and slightly embarrassed in regard to what he walked in on. He approached Loki as the latter man pulled you off the wall and forward, in front of him to walk toward the door.

"It was the hospital. Joy Birch was just admitted."

The look on Loki's face was priceless. You literally scoffed out loud and turned your face to his.

"I told you I had no fucking idea where they were."

Loki simply passed you over to the other officer and headed to the door, frustrated and confused about his own work and internal feelings about what had just happened–both the realization that you had no idea where they were and that he had been aggressive to the point where it kind of turned him on.

"Detective!" He was halfway out the door when you called out to him and if he had a mind, he would have ignored you and continued on, but he was so flustered that he did.

"If you ever want to use those cuffs sometime, you know where to find me."

Loki didn't say anything, but his eyes wandered. From your face to your body to the floor and back up. It was an unashamed look that made the officer uncomfortable, but you couldn't help but let a small, sly smile grace your face at his look. This man would be the end of your criminal career if he managed to find the time to reunite with you again.

And he did. Two days after Keller Dover was found in a hole and on a holiday he knew you were not going to spend with your family.

#Detective Loki x Reader #Detective Loki x Female Reader #Prisoners #Prisoners 2013 #Jake Gyllenhaal x oc #Jake Gyllenhaal x Reader #David Loki x reader #David Loki x Female Reader #Detective Loki x fem reader #Detective Loki #fanfic #writer #x reader #x female reader #i imagine after the christmas trist reader does in fact serve time for theft. but we ignore that for now.

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

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Love and Medicine ~ 7

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,400ish

Summary: Clint has feelings. You try not to cause too much drama at work.

You immediately began avoiding Steve after Gamora caught you two in the car. You need not need her, or anyone else, thinking that you were sleeping with him to get ahead. Having no desire to get ready for work, you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, as your alarm buzzed.

Outside in the hall, Clint was nervously walked towards your door with two cups of coffee.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask her out?” Valkyrie suddenly asked, popping out of her room.

“Ah!” Clint jumped, slipping the coffees on him. “Val!”

“She’s right, ya know?” Scott added, stepping out of his room. “Just ask her out. It’s not like it will be awkward when she tells you no.”

“I hate you both,” Clint grumbled. He leaned into your door, able to hear to slam on the snooze button for the third time. “She’s gonna be late.”

“Maybe not.”

“We should wait for her.”

“Definitely not,” Val shook her head. “I’m not her mother, and you are not her boyfriend.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Scott added.

“Stop, both of you, okay?” Clint said, frustrated. “I told you I’m not interested.”

“Life is short, Clint,” Val said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you really want to die before you ever ask her out?”

“I do not want to ask her out.”

“Do you really want to die a liar?” Scott said.

“I’m not… I’m not dying.”

~~~

From the parking garage, you rushed towards the building. Late for work. As you wait for the elevator, you see Steve coming toward you.

“Crap,” you mutter.

“Crap?” Steve repeated, having heard you.

“Hi. I’m late.”

“Hi, late. You’re avoiding me.”

“You’re right. But I can’t do this right now. I’m late.” You hurried towards the stairs, only for him to follow you.

“Okay, but are we going to talk about this?”

“No.” You marched up the stairs.

“About us and Gamora and what she saw?”

“I don’t need to talk about it. I experienced it. Naked.”

“This is getting complicated.”

“Complicated for me. Not necessarily for you. I’m the intern sleeping with the attending. Gamora isn’t even speaking to me anymore!”

“Not that, that’s a bad thing. If I was a better guy, I’d walk away.”

“Yes, you would.”

“Do you want me to be a better guy.”

“Yes. Now,” you reached the level of the locker rooms, “I’m late. Please leave me alone and get to my job.” You opened the door. Steve caught it, keeping it open as you walked away.

“Take your time! Think about it!”

“Think about what?” Tony asked, walking over to Steve. He looked to where Steve was looking, watching her rush down the all. “Ooohhh… I get it now. Well, at least she’s talking to you.”

“The date go bad with Pepper?”

“It didn’t go at all. I was pulled into a surgery and completely forgot about it.”

“Yikes.”

“I think I’ve blown it.”

“Me too, Stark. Me too.”

~~~

“That was definitely worth being late,” Natasha sighed as she put on her pants.

“Thanks,” Bruce smiled shyly, doing the same. “Is this a… should we talk about this?”

“Yeah,” Natasha slipped her shirt on, “definitely. Just, I’m late.”

She rushed out of the on-call room and straight to the locker room, where you were getting ready.

“You’re late,” you stated.

“So are you,” Natasha responded.

“I know, and I can’t afford to piss off Gamora any more. Do you think she told anyone?”

“About you and Captain McDreamy?”

“Yeah.”

“No, he’s her boss too.”

“If they find out, what can they… Can they kick me out? Or—“

“No…. Well, I don’t think officially. You'll just get edged out, blacklisted, banned from his surgeries, passed over for chief resident. It’ll be humiliating, but you’ll live.”

“I have to end it. I definitely have to end it… I have to end it, right?”

“Y/N, shut up.” Nat headed out of the locker room.

“What?” You chased after her. “Did you seriously just tell me to shut up?”

“Oh, please. You got a hot doctor who like to make you open up, and say "ahh." It's the American dream, stop whining about it.”

“No. No good can come from sleeping with your boss.” You two arrived in front of Gamora.

“Natasha, you’re late,” Gamora stated, unhappy.

“So is Y/N,” Natasha replied, pointing at you.

“When we walk in this door, you will maintain decorum,” Gamora continued, ignoring Nat and you. “You will not laugh, vomit, or drop your jaw. Are we understood?” She walked to a door.

“Why would we laugh?” Val asked quietly.

“Oh, just you wait,” Peter replied.

The interns followed Gamora into a patient room. On the bed, there was a heavier woman with an extremely large tumor bulging out fo her side.

“Good morning, Miss Anderson,” Gamora greeted.

“Good Morning,” Miss Anderson, the patient, replied.

“What is it?” Scott whispered.

“Tumor,” Nat responded.

“Good morning, Millie,” Peter smiled, walking around to the other side of the patient’s bed. “How are you? This is Dr. Gamora and some of my fellow interns.”

“Dr. Quill, we refer to patients as ‘mister’ and—“ Gamora began to reprimand.

“I old him to call me Millie,” the patient interrupted. “Miss Anderson makes me feel old and fat, which I am, but why have to feel that way?”

“Good morning,” Dr. Banner greeted upon entering, eyes lingering on Natasha a beat too long.

“Millie, this is Dr. Banner,” Peter stated.

“Dr. Quill, give us the run down.”

“Millie Anderson is a 43-year-old woman who presented last night with progressive shortness of breath fo the past three months. Found to have a very large tumor of unknown origin pressed against her diaphragm. Stable vital signs. Scheduled for CT this morning, sir.”

“Thank you, Dr. Quill.” Banner turned to Millie. “Are you at all claustrophobic?”

“I’ve been housebound for the last year,” Millie replied. “How claustrophobic could I be?”

“Alright then. Dr. Valkyrie is going to take you up for a CT. It’ll give us a better look at the tumor, and we’ll know how to proceed.”

“Could someone tell my dad? He’ll worry if he gets back and I’m not here.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And would it be possible for Peter to take me instead? I mean, he… he’s just so fun to look at.”

“Millie,” Peter laughed, clearly trying to gain favor.

“Sure,” Banner said. “Sure, Miss Anderson. Excuse me.”

Dr. Banner left the room, with Dr. Gamora and the interns following.

“How much do you think it weighs?” Scott asked.

“60 pounds,” Clint answered.

“More,” Val said. “She’s carrying a whole extra person.”

“This one’s going in the books,” Natasha said. “I’ve got to get in.”

“I almost did,” Val glared at Peter.

“I was on call last night when she came in,” Peter said. “I’m never leaving this place again.”

“Let’s move, people,” Gamora said. “Miss Anderson’ surgery, should we choose to proceed, will take most, if not all, of the surgeons off the floor. Which means you people will have to work extra hard not to kill anyone, cause we won’t be there to fix your mistakes.”

You and the others listened to Gamora’s orders while Natasha slipped away to talk to Bruce.

“I really want in on this,” she whispered to him.

“I thought we weren’t talking,” Bruce replied, eyebrow up.

“I’m not talking. I’m just saying.”

Bruce sighed. “Find her father, get a family history, and I’ll tell Gamora.”

~~~

“I know you both think I like Y/N,” Clint stated as him, Scott, and Val walked up the stairs. “But I don’t like Y/N.”

“What?” Val questioned.

“No. I like Y/N. Obviously, I like her. She’s my roommate. I just… I don’t have a thing for her.” Scott and Val shared a look.

“Okay,” Scott said.

“It’s just this morning… I know you two were probably just teasing. But I don’t want you to say anything like that to her. Because, you know, we live together and that’d be awkward.”

“Clint, stop talking,” Val ordered.

“Okay, then… It’s just—“

“Seriously, dude,” Scott stopped in front of Clint. “You’re making this all worse. Just stop.” Scott peered behind Clint where you were making your way towards them. “Or you could just be honest with yourself and us and ask her out now.” Clint looked back to see you almost there.

“What are you guys standing here for?” You asked. “We’re going to be late meeting Gamora.”

You and Val continued on your way with Scott watching Clint watch you.

“Liar,” Scott muttered, shaking his head.

The two guys caught up with you and Val. The four of you met up with Gamora in another patient room. Inside the room, a man is trying to walk but was having difficulty. Steve was also in there and a younger woman.

“Morning,” Gamora greeted.

“Mr. Jones, this is Dr. Gamora and her fine staff of surgical interns,” Steve introduced. Steve, yourself, and Gamora all exchanged glances.

“Welcome to hell, kids,” Mr. Jones stated.

“Who’s presenting?” Gamora asked.

“Edward Jones,” Clint stated, “is a 63-year-old man admitted for pain management for Dyskinesia. He's been stable since last night, and responding to the bolus injections.”

“Val, possible treatments?”

“For Parkinson’s disease?” Val questioned. “Um, deep brain stimulation has shown—“

“Not for Parkinson’s,” Steve clarified, “for spinal pain.”

“Oh, um…”

“Instraspinal catheter,” you stated. “That way, he can have constant pain medication.”

“Excellent,” Steve smiled. “This is Dr. L/N. She’s gonna prep you for the procedure and assist.” His pager beeped, causing him to look down. “Excuse me.” He left.

“You make yourselves busy,” Gamora said, following Steve out. “I’ll catch up with you.”

She followed Steve to the elevator. Where they end up alone.

“Gamora,” Steve greeted.

“Excuse me?” She responded.

“Well, that’s your name, right? It’s on your jacket.” She wasn’t impressed. “Alright, fine. Dr. Gamora then.”

“You think you're charming in that talented, neurotic, overly moussed hair sort of way, good for you. But if you think I'm going to stand back and watch while you favor her—“

“I don’t favor her. She’s good.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“You know, can I point out that, technically, I'm your boss?”

“You don't scare me. Look, I'm not going to advertise your extracurricular activities with my intern. However, the next time I see you favoring Y/N L/N in any way, I'll make sure she doesn't see the inside of on OR for a month. Just for the sake of balance.”

~~~

“Okay, Mr. Jones,” you said with a smile. “We're going to get you more comfortable, okay? I'm going to go downstairs and I'll be back up shortly.”

“Okay,” Mr. Jones responded.

“Okay.”

You left, with the younger woman from the room following you out.

“Excuse me,” the younger woman called out, causing you to turn your attention to her. “I’m sorry, doctor…”

“L/N,” you smiled.

“Dr. L/N. I’m Lucy, his daughter. My dad seems to like you. He’s always liked your type. Is that rude? I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”

“Is there something—“

“I was wondering if you would talk to him.”

“About?”

“Brain surgery. The doctor mentioned it, and I've read about it online. If it worked, it could help with most of his symptoms, not just his pain.”

“Is he a candidate? I don’t—“

“He is, but he's afraid of it. Surgery on his back, he can understand, but his brain...And there are risks. But his quality of life…”

“There isn’t any.”

“And, it keeps getting worse. I'm getting married next month. I already lost my mom. And I want him to walk...I want him with me. Maybe that's selfish, but...you don't know what it's like having a parent...Watching him…”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

You immediately left in search of Steve. You watched outside a room where he was talking to Gamora and Banner about Miss Anderson.

“Dr. Rogers,” you called as he walked out. “Mr. Jones, the Parkinson's patient, is he a good candidate for DBS?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but he’s not interested.”

“Okay, but I think it's worth talking to him again, pushing him.”

“We're talking about a brain surgery that is performed while the patient is wide awake, a risk of paralysis, a risk of death. And, the patient doesn't want it. It is not my job to push him into anything and it's definitely not yours.”

“Okay.”

“And since you’re clearly uncomfortable with my decision in this case, it's probably best you don't scrub in.”

“But—“

“It’s a minor procedure. You won’t be missed.” This took you by surprise. “I’m good here, Dr. L/N.” With your mind reeling, you walked away. Steve turned to Gamora, who had been watching. “You know that you’re a bully, right?”

“So I’ve heard,” Gamora replied.

~~~

You and Val were sitting in a corner of the cafeteria, eating lunch.

“It's just that he blatantly favors me in front of her and then blatantly dismisses me,” you complained to her.

“How do you know he was favoring you?” She asked, which you didn’t answer. “Look, you've got a brain. You got into this program. Just because Rogers wants to munch your cookies doesn't mean you didn't deserve what you worked for.”

“But he’s making me look bad. I have to end it.”

“Right.”

“It’s over.”

“Sure.”

“Is it true you get to scrub in on that tumor?” Peter asked Natasha, appearing out of nowhere with Val. They both sat down at your table.

“Don’t sit here.”

“You get to scrub in?” Val repeated. “How psyched are you?”

“On a scale of one to ecstatic, ecstatic.”

“It’s unbelievable,” Peter complained. “You know what I think? I think Banner wants to get into your scrubs.”

“Why are you sitting here?”

“He kicked me off that surgery for the same crap most of you pull every day.”

“You know what.” Natasha held up her fork. “If I stuck this fork into his thigh, would I get in trouble?”

“Not if you make it look like an accident,” you answered.

“Hey!” Clint greeted, coming up with Scott.

“Thank goodness,” Peter exclaimed. “I’m drowning in estrogen here.”

Clint sat down next to you, studying you. “You look… is everything okay?” He asked you.

“Rogers is a jackass,” you muttered.

“Really?” Val questioned. “I think he’s kind of great.”

“He reamed her out in front of Gamora,” Natasha said.

“Why?”

“Cause he’s a jackass,” you repeated.

“Well, bad days are… bad,” Clint said. “Maybe tonight, uh, if, you know, if you drink alcohol, I mean… we could, all of us, I mean, go out and rink alcohol… because of the bad day.”

Your pager beeped. “I’ve got to go.” And you left.

“Dude,” Peter laughed at Clint once you were gone.

Clint groaned and rested his head on the table. Scott panted his shoulder while the others laughed.

~~~

Steve had called you to Mr. Jones room. You stood near the door, watching.

“How’s your back?” Steve asked Mr. Jones as he checked him over.

“Still good,” the patient responded.

“Good.” Steve turned to Mr. Jones daughter. “How are you? Good?” She nodded as he turned his attention back to her father. “Can you lean forward for me? I just want to check something. Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Right here?” Steve pressed along Mr. Jones’ back. The man grunts slightly and Steve looked up, finally noticing you. “Mr. Jones,” Steve took his hands off the man, “have you given any more thought about the other surgical options we discussed this morning?”

“What? Why would I? I already told you no. I'm letting you cut into my back, but that's not enough for you. All you guys ever want to do is cut.”

“Dad,” his daughter scolded, “just listen to what he has to say.”

“I already listened.”

“Sir, there’s a very small window of opportunity here,” Steve stated. “You know, once the Parkinson's progresses to a point of dementia, there's, you know, you're no longer a candidate for DBS.”

“And when I'm no longer a candidate, is that when you people will leave me the hell alone! What? Do I have to start drooling, and forget my name to get a little peace and quiet?”

“Alright,” Steve nodded. “I’ll check back with you later. Try to get some rest.” Steve left while you lingered a bit longer, just more in the hallway.

“Dad, you’re being unreasonable,” the daughter said. “The doctors are only trying to help you.”

“It’s my damn life, and it’s my damn brain,” Mr. Jones stated. “You want me to let them cut up my brain while I'm lying there awake, for what?”

“Dad!”

“I'll be at your wedding. I will sit in the back. Your uncle will walk you down the aisle. I know it's not perfect, but it's life. Life is messy sometimes.”

“I know that.” The daughter walked out and Mr. Jones looked at you.

“If she knows, then what the hell are we still talking for, huh? Why in the hell can’t she drop it?”

“It is your life,” you said, stepping further into the room. “But it’s her life too. And you have a chance to get better here. And all she's asking you to do is try.”

~~~

Mr. Jones agreed to the DBS. But you needed to hurry and find Steve, before the man changed his mind. You found him scrubbing in for Miss Anderson’s surgery with Banner and Gamora.

“Dr. Rogers,” you called.

“Yes?” He responded, looking over with his red, white, and blue scrub cap on and a mask.

“Mr. Jones has agreed to DBS. Only if we do it today. If he leaves, he won’t come back.”

“Don’t worry, Steve,” Bruce said. “It’ll take hours before we get around to the spine. I’ll page you.”

“Alright, then,” Steve said, shaking off his wet hands. “Let’s do it.”

Steve walked out of the scrub room while Bruce walked into the OR, leaving you and Gamora alone.

“Dr. Gamora. I didn’t know… I din’t know that he was my boss, when I met him,” you said. “I really didn’t know.”

“I don’t care,” she responded.

“Really? Oh, well, you sort of seemed to not be talking to me, so I—“

“You see this, what's happening right here? This is the problem with you sleeping with my boss. Not whether or not you know him before, but how it affects my day. And me standing here talking to you about your sex life affects my day. And the longer this little fling goes on, the more favors you get over the others, who are fighting tooth and nail just to make it through this program without any assistance. When those people start finding out what's going on and they don't want to work with you and talk to you or look at you, and they start bitching and moaning at me, the more it affects my day. So, no, Dr. L/N, I don't care what you know, or when you know it. Are we understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

~~~

“Neuro sponge,” a male nurse said, handing a sponge to Steve.

“How you doing, Mr. Jones?” Steve asked.

“Alright,” Mr. Jones responded.

“Drill bit’s charged,” the nurse announced.

“Where’s the girl doctor?”

“I’m right here,” you responded, stepping closer. “Can’t you see me?”

“I’m shaky, not blind. Anything goes wrong here, I’m blaming you.”

“Okay, in that case, I'll stay where you can see me. Now we just have to drill a hole and try to find the spot that controls the motor function.”

“You can't see my brain from there. Aren't you supposed to be learning something?”

“I’m good,” you grabbed onto his hand, “right here.”

“EEG waves look good,” the nurse stated.

“Okay, Mr. Jones. Just take a couple of deep breaths,” Steve told him. “Focus on the pretty girl. Okay, this is going to sound really scary, but try and relax. You shouldn't feel a thing.”

Then Steve began to drill into Mr. Jones’ head. After a few hours, Steve asked you to have Mr. Jones try and mimic you.

“Just keep trying, Mr. Jones,” you encouraged. “Mimic my motions. You can do it.”

“Oh, damn it!” His body was too shaky to mimic the motions.

“Take a breath and try again. The probe is almost in. You’ll know when we find the right spot.” Mr. Jones tries again, to find that he stopped shaking and was able to mimic you. “Well, how about that?” You smiled, though it was covered with a mask.

“There it is,” Steve said.

~~~

After the surgery, you and Steve brought Mr. Jones back to his room and met back in the hallway.

“I know you’re probably asking yourself why I took you off the surgery,” Steve said. “Gamora was on the warpath. I was trying to protect you.”

“You trying to protect me is why she's on the warpath,” you replied, the both of you heading down the hall. “You can't do me favors. You can't ask me to scrub in when I haven't earned it.”

“Okay, okay.”

“And you can't treat me like crap when I haven't earned that either.”

“Okay.”

“I can take care of myself. I got myself into this mess, and I’ll—“

“And you'll get yourself out?”

“I don’t… I don’t know that yet.” Steve’s pager went off as you arrived at the staircase. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“You did great work here today.” He smiled at you then headed off.

“Dr. Rogers,” you called after him.

“Yeah?” He turned around to face you.

“Sorry I called you a jackass.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. Twice.”

Steve chuckled and continued on his way. Tony had heard and seen the exchange from behind. He came up beside you.

“You both are love sick idiots,” he said.

“And you aren’t?” You responded.

“Yes. But I blew it.”

“Dr. Potts will give you another chance.”

“How do you know? Did she tell you that?”

“No. I just know from experience.”

~~~

You decided to go to the OR gallery and watch Miss Anderson’s surgery. Peter was up there watching as well.

“Wow, it’s unbelievable,” you said, looking at the mess down below.

“Right,” Peter agreed.

“How did she live like that?”

“Watch what you say. You never know who's listening.” He looks down below, then laughed. “Look at Scottie. He looks like he's about to fall in.”

“Are you really as shallow and callous as you seem?”

“Oh, you want to go out for a drink later and hear about my secret pain?”

“Does that line ever work for you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh. Must be because you look like that.”

“Like what?” You laughed at him. “So is that a yes?”

“No. I can't. I’m… seeing someone.”

“Look, if you don't want to go out with me, just say so. No need to lie.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I don't want to go out with you. But I think I really might be seeing someone.”

Suddenly, Val entered the OR below. And you could hear everything that was happening.

“Mr. Collins, the post-op heart patient in 2114. I had to open his sternotomy bedside,” Val stated, almost panicked.

“You what?” / “What?”

Peter quickly left the gallery and you stood up to watch from the glass.

“He had cardiac tamponade. His chest films were clean this morning,” Val explained. “It just... It happened fast. He was in PEA. There was no time.”

“Go ahead,” Steve told Bruce. “I got it. We’re okay here.”

“Okay.” Bruce hurried out with Val.

“I need some retraction. Pull back on the retractor. And someone page Hill to help… Never a dull moment here at the medical center.” A blood vessel burst, suddenly, squirting blood all over Steve and Gamora. “Oh!”

“Oh!” Gamora exclaimed.

“Get right in there!”

“She can’t afford to lose this much blood. We need more blood.”

“Get me some suction here. I can't see what I'm doing. Clamp, clamp, clamp, please. Is there any blood in the rapid infuser?”

“We’re waiting on two units,” the female nurse stated.

“What do you mean, waiting?”

“Well, we didn’t anticipate this much blood loss,” Gamora replied.

“They’re on their way,” the nurse said.

“We prepped a double supply. We’ve used it all.”

“What did you cut?” Steve asked.

“Nothing. It just blew. She came in with too much damage. The artery walls are too weak. Ten units of o-negative.”

“I cannot see. Lang, give me your hand. Push right down here. Pull it towards you. Suction! Suction!”

“The pressure’s dropping,” a nurse stated.

“She needs blood. Where the hell is the blood?! Somebody grab that. Push it back, Lang. Come on.” Everyone is breathless as they move Miss Anderson more onto the table. “Oh, God. Just squeeze it off right there. Here we go… Some suction, please, in here, now. Come on. We're losing her now. Look at this. Look at this. Come on!” He started CPR, with the flatline of the machine going. "Oh, come on! Come on!” He continued with the CPR. "Come on!” After a few more times, Steve breathlessly stopped CPR. “Time of death is 11:42.”

~~~

Natasha found her way to an on call room after Miss Anderson’s surgery. She was stretching when Bruce entered.

“I'm not doing you any more favors,” he stated. “This was it.”

Natasha scoffed. “I've been holding up 50 pounds of tumor for the past 12 hours. My back's going to need traction, and the patient died anyways. And you think you did me a favor?”

“Look, I'm just… What is this… that we're doing here? What is it?”

“You need a definition? You really want to be that guy?”

He watched as she continued to stretch, then he locked the door.

~~~

You waited in the parking garage for Steve to leave the hospital. He walked up to you.

“I, um, know this place where they’re an amazing view of the sunrise and ferryboats,” you told him, pulling out some beers from your bag.

“I have a thing for ferry boats,” he smirked.

“I remember.”

He took a hold of your hand, leading you to his car.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #gamora x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #scott lang x reader #valkyrie x reader #peter quill x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #steve rogers imagine

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 23: You Could Be

Chapter 22

Read on AO3

The rest of the week following Claire and Jamie’s second date passed rather hectically (they had decided to refer to it as such, even though Faith was there for half of it). Jamie had left on Wednesday night around one o’clock in the morning, Claire having fallen asleep close to the end of the movie. She’d garbled something unintelligible when Michael killed Fredo, something that she’d translated for him later to have meant: “Fucking traitor.”

He’d let her sleep, and when Claire had chided him about it, told him he should have woken her so they could talk or something, he’d just shrugged and said:

“Ye looked so bloody peaceful, mo nighean donn. Drool on my shoulder and all.”

That earned him a swat to the arm.

“I mean it. Holding ye while ye slept, not a care in the world…was like Heaven on Earth.”

That earned him a very generous kiss.

After saying goodnight, Claire collapsed into bed happy as a clam, and then the chaos began. She opened her eyes to Faith standing right next to her in bed, a la the twins in The Shining, and she’d nearly jumped out of her skin. The girl had proceeded to crawl right into bed with Claire, whining in protest when Claire’s alarm started going off. Claire tried to hold her off as long as possible, but when Mrs. Lickett knocked on the door and they were still in bed, she knew they were in trouble. The poor woman had to pry Faith off of Claire just so she could get ready for work, and she screamed her little head off the whole time. For some reason, Faith did not want Mummy going to work today, and did not want to be left with poor Mrs. Lickett.

There was no rhyme or reason to when Faith got in these moods; she just decided some days that Mummy was not going to leave. And, of course, with Claire’s chosen profession, she did not have the option to oblige her. Perhaps that was for the best; Mrs. Lickett did say they couldn’t always indulge her. But God, if it wouldn’t get her fired, Claire would get right back into bed and hold her baby until she calmed down, and she might never leave again.

Still hearing Faith scream even through the front door and then her car door, Claire finally shed a few overwrought, panicked tears. She glanced tearily at her phone in her bag, thinking to call Jamie, then talked herself out of it.

He doesn’t need to hear every time you’re going crazy, Beauchamp.

She put the key in the ignition, then caught sight of Faith in the window, slamming her palms on the glass, both Mrs. Lickett and Angus trying to talk some sense into her. And then she couldn’t stop herself.

She opened his contact and pressed the call button, put the phone on speaker, and put it in a pocket in the door before pulling out of the driveway. As the phone rang, she sniffled and swallowed thickly, even though she knew that her voice would give her away immediately. It rang for a while, and Claire immediately felt dread in the pit of her stomach, thinking he must be asleep. The stables didn’t open until ten, and she had him over until one.

Idiot.

Before she could panic-hang-up, it stopped ringing.

“Everything alright, Sassenach?”

“Oh,” she said stupidly, putting on her turn signal to get on the main road. “Hi, yes, everything is fine.”

“Are ye crying, Sassenach?” His voice was alert.

“No, I’m — I’m fine. I’m so sorry I woke you, I had you up so late — ”

“Forget that. I’m an early bird. What’s wrong?” It was gentle, soft, but insistent. He was not going to let her let this go.

Claire sighed. “Really, nothing is wrong. Not really. I’m just driving to work. And it’s already been…a day.”

“How’s that?”

So gentle.

“Faith did not want me to leave this morning. She just gets like that sometimes, doesn’t want me to go, doesn’t want to do anything Mrs. Lickett has planned for the day. She was screaming her poor head off and she didn’t even want anything to do with Angus, at least while I was there. I didn’t even get a chance to eat anything and I’m already getting a headache.” She chuckled nervously, wiping her eyes with one hand, keeping one on the wheel. “Sorry…I’m rambling.”

“Dinna be sorry, Claire. I’m sorry ye had a rough morning. And I’m sorry fer the wee lass. She misses ye when ye’re gone sometimes, eh?”

“Yeah…” she sighed sadly. “I suppose she does. She used to do it a lot more; there would be a meltdown every day I left the house. Every time I think she’s outgrown it, it comes back full force. And I just feel…awful just…leaving her like that. And I can’t call off for something that isn’t an emergency. I just can’t. And I…”

“Claire.”

She paused, having a feeling he was about to say something.

“Ye’re a good mam, Claire.”

She bit down on her lip fiercely, nearly losing sight of the road as her eyes watered.

“I ken ye dinna feel that way when ye have to leave her every day, and I canna imagine how that feels. But ye’re no’ the only mam that works, and it doesna matter that ye’re a single parent, either.”

Claire sniffled again, haphazardly wiping her eyes. “I just…I know that I do so much for her. I do know that. But on days like today…it just feels like I’ll never be enough, like I’ll never be able to give her everything she needs.”

“Christ, Sassenach, ye’re more than enough. Ye have to know that. Ye have to work to give her those things she needs. Ye have to know that, too. Ye’re doing the best ye can, and it’s great. Ye’re a good mother.”

Claire sniffled again, quite loudly, and she almost laughed at how gross she must have sounded on his end. “Thank you, Jamie. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Nothing at all is just fine.”

She pulled into the employee parking lot of the hospital, and she sighed heavily. “I’m…I’m sorry again to have woken you up like this — ”

“No apologies, mo nighean donn — ”

“And I’m sorry I have to go so soon; I’m already running late and I’m sure I’m going to be reamed — ”

“No need to explain yerself. Hang up the phone, get yerself calmed down, and get in there and save some lives. Aye?”

Claire laughed as she pulled into her spot. “Nothing like a pep-talk from coach Fraser to get me in the zone.”

He laughed as well. “Glad to hear it.”

Claire took the key out of the ignition and picked up her phone. “Thank you again, Jamie. Really. This was…more helpful than I can even explain.”

“No explanation needed. I get it. I mean I don’t get it-get it. But I…I understand.”

“Right.” She smiled fondly at his carefulness to not even imply that he really knew what it was like while still ensuring her that he understood her. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Aye. Let me know if she’s alright when ye go home. I hope work isna too rough on ye today.”

“I will. Thanks. Goodbye, Jamie.”

“G’bye, mo ghraidh.”

She hung up and held her phone to her chest for a moment, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

You’re fine, Beauchamp.

You’re a good mum, and a good doctor.

It was hard to believe even as she said it to herself, but she was at least able to get out of the car, checking how much of a wreck she was briefly in the rear-view mirror.

The day was just as hectic as it would be on an already bad day, and Claire was dead on her feet by the time she got to the break room, having not even had time for the shitty coffee it had to offer when she’d arrived. She collapsed in the chair nearest the door, pressing her eyes into her hand and watching the colors and shapes dance around in her head for a moment.

“Earth to Lady Jane.”

She inhaled sharply and picked her head up, finding Joe standing by the counter.

“Don’t fall asleep on me without getting a load of this.”

“What…?” She reluctantly heaved herself out of her chair and trudged toward the counter where Joe was smirking at a brown paper bag and a styrofoam coffee cup that did not belong to the hospital.

“What’s this…?” Claire said.

“Been here all morning. Louise said a very attractive redhead dropped it off for Doctor Beauchamp.”

Claire felt her face melt into the most ridiculously liquid smile. “He did not…”

She opened the bag to find a napkin sitting on top with writing scrawled in black pen:

Sassenach,

Got ye a BEC (that’s bacon egg and cheese) since you didn’t have breakfast. Plain bagel since I don’t know your preference (remind me to ask you that). Figured you forgot to pack lunch as well, so I got you a deli sandwich I thought you’d like. That coffee reheated is still better than the shite in your break room, I promise ye that. Good deli; I’m good friends with the owner. Great guy. Have to take you someday.

Hope this helps,

JAMMF

Claire shook her head in disbelief, handing Joe the napkin to read.

“Damn,” he said. “That man is too much.”

Claire pulled out her BEC and unwrapped it, melting into a nearby chair as she ate. Joe popped her coffee into the microwave for her and sat down next to her.

“Too much indeed,” Claire garbled, mouth full of food. “He’s too good to be true.”

“But it’s true, Lady Jane.” He patted her knee.

“Yeah…” She smiled dreamily. “It is.”

——

Saturday was another date-night, or rather date-afternoon. They went to see The Free State of Jones at the movie theater since it had been out for about a month and Jamie had been wanting to see it. Evidently, Jamie was more of a history buff than Claire had picked up on, and she thoroughly enjoyed watching him absorb the movie, and she also enjoyed the movie quite a lot herself. She knew next to nothing about the American Civil War aside from what was to be seen in Gone With the Wind.

They'd managed to keep kissing to a minimum in the theater, but they weren't completely prudish. There were, after all, only eight other people in the entire theater, and they were spread out enough that they managed to share a few lingering kisses. But outside of that, they actually watched the movie, and Claire did not fall asleep.

“I didna bore ye wi' my long movie this time, Sassenach?” Jamie teased as they left the building.

“Oh, don't even. I worked all day Wednesday, and it was past my bedtime,” Claire shot back. “And besides, I still retained what happened. I just retained this movie…better.”

Jamie tossed back his head in a barking laugh as they got into his car. He brought her to a pizzeria, and the man behind the counter cried out with joy to see Jamie.

“Hey! It's Fraser!”

“Hallo, Vinny,” Jamie called back, putting his hand on the small of Claire's back.

“And who is this?” the dark-haired, red-faced man asked.

“This,” Jamie flashed a smile at Claire, swelling with pride, “is my girlfriend. Claire Beauchamp.”

“A girlfriend!” Vinny boomed. “Hey! Luca!” He shouted at the door that Claire presumed led to the kitchen. His New York-Italian accent increased dramatically when he yelled. “Fraser’s got a girl here!”

Claire felt herself blushing fiercely, and Vinny reached over the glass display of pizza slices to shake her hand.

“Great to meet you, Claire.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Claire answered, shaking his hand.

“Ha!” Vinny laughed heartily, squeezing her hand and giving it another shake. “What’d ya do? Send for her from across the ocean?”

Jamie joined him in laughter. “She found me, actually. Her Englishness is a complete coincidence.”

“My daughter is a client at Harmony Stables,” Claire chimed in. “That’s how we met.”

“Oh! Well I’ll be damned! Hey! Luca! Get out here!” He yelled back again unexpectedly, causing Claire to jump a little. “Goddamn, Fraser, look at her!”

“Aye, I ken.” Claire blushed fiercely as Jamie swelled with pride again, squeezing her shoulder and pressing her into his side. “I’m a lucky man.”

“Ya gotta bring your daughter here sometime. I’d love to meet her,” Vinny said, leaning against the counter. “I know most of those kids already, but I think I’d remember you.”

Claire smiled.

“Vinny’s is where we get the pizza fer events,” Jamie explained. “All the kids know him by name.”

“Oh! Well then I’m already a happy customer,” Claire said with a chuckle.

“What’s her name?” Vinny asked.

“Faith.”

“Beautiful! Ya gotta bring her by, I just love those kids — ”

Just then, the kitchen doors opened, and a man who could have been a second Vinny burst in, apparently Luca.

“Well I’ll be damned!”

Claire chuckled to herself; they even said the same words in the same exact way.

“Where the hell did you find her?” Luca said.

“This is my brother, Luca. Vincent Senior is our old man. He’s around sometimes, just not today,” Vinny explained. “This is Claire Beauchamp. From England.”

“Great to meet you! Whatsamatter, couldn’t find a girl around here?” Luca ribbed, shaking Claire’s hand.

“Ye need original content, Luca,” Jamie said. “Yer brother said the same thing.”

“Alright, alright, enough gawking at the poor thing,” Vinny interrupted. “What can I get for ya?”

“The usual fer me,” Jamie said. “How about you, Sassenach?”

“What’s your usual?” she asked.

“Buffalo chicken slice.”

She wrinkled her nose at him.

“Yucking someone else’s yum again?” He cocked a brow at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“Do you have a meat lover’s slice? Something like that?”

“Sure do.”

“Alright, I’ll have that.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Just water for me,” Claire said.

“Ginger ale fer me,” Jamie said.

Claire pulled out her wallet.

“What are ye doing?”

“Paying for our lunch.”

“Sassenach — ”

“Jamie, you paid for that obscenely expensive food last week, and the carnival tickets, and you bought all the ingredients for that bloody lasagna. Not to mention today’s movie. Let me pay for one thing. I’m a doctor for Christ’s sake, it’s not as if I can’t afford some bloody pizza.”

Without another word, Claire handed Vinny her credit card, and Jamie did not try to fight her. Vinny’s brows were nearly at his hairline, and he was clearly fighting the urge to grin.

“I like this one, Fraser!” Luca called, shoveling their slices into the oven before departing into the kitchen.

Claire tried to hide her smirk of pride as she signed the receipt.

“So you’re a doctor?” Vinny said. “Stony Brook?”

“Yes, Emergency Medicine,” Claire said proudly. “Still a residency, but yes.”

“Goddamn, Fraser,” Vinny said again, shaking his head as he returned Claire’s card. “Don’t you even think about letting this one go.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Jamie winked, and then led Claire to a table.

“So, are you friends with every small business owner on Long Island?” Claire asked, flashing a glance at Vinny.

“Not every…but a fair amount,” he said. “Sorry about that, by the way. I should’ve warned ye that they’d be…curious. About my having a lass wi’ me.”

She chuckled. “That’s alright. They’re fun.”

“Didna scare ye away?”

“Not at all.” She laced their fingers together on the table.

They began discussing the movie and all the tangents it brought up, and then Vinny came by with their individual slices. Claire should have realized that Jamie would have ordered two slices; she didn’t even notice on her receipt.

“How you can eat neon orange on pizza is beyond me,” she said, watching him take a bite.

“Dinna like spicy, Sassenach?”

“I didn’t say that,” she said. “Buffalo chicken is a chicken wing flavor, not a pizza flavor. Two worlds that should not collide.”

He made an amused Scottish noise and took another bite. “So ye like buffalo wings then?”

“I’ve been known to handle a few.”

“We’ll have to test that someday.”

She hummed in amusement, and then dug into her own slice. Jamie was finished with both of his slices before Claire was finished with her one slice, even though she could tell he’d been trying to pace himself to be polite. Before they left, Claire ordered a plain slice for Faith to eat when she got home, since it would be dinner time shortly. Faith didn’t mind an off-routine early dinner if she was getting something special like pizza. Jamie also ordered them Italian ices, lemon for him and rainbow for Claire, and she caught him trying to pay for the ices and Faith’s dinner. One look was enough to have him putting his wallet back in his pocket, and this time, Vinny did laugh out loud.

With an aggressively friendly slap on Jamie's shoulder, Vinny bid them farewell, and they headed back to Claire's apartment. Though Faith was normally over the moon at the return of her mother (especially if she had Jamie with her), she remained entirely nonplussed at their arrival, entirely too focused on the puzzle she was doing with Delia. It wasn't until Claire said the word “pizza” that Faith sprung up from the coffee table and started pawing at her mother’s legs.

“That’s what I thought,” Claire said with a chuckle. “Yes, I know.” Faith reached up for the pizza and moaned in annoyance as Claire held it higher. “Pizza after you say goodbye to your friend and to Auntie Gail.”

Faith screwed up her face in protest, making exaggerated whining noises, but Claire just stared her down. “Stop whining, and be polite. Say goodbye.”

Faith turned around and gave Delia a reluctant hug, which Claire had to remind Faith to be gentle with in her reluctance. She hugged Gail with the same begrudging attitude, and then she began tugging on Claire’s shirt to pull her into the kitchen.

Claire looked back and forth between Faith and Gail and Delia.

“Jamie, can you go with her?” She handed him the box containing Faith’s slice, and he nodded wordlessly.

“C’mon lass. Let’s get ye settled fer supper.”

Claire shook her head in exasperation as she thanked Gail for babysitting once again, and then saw them off outside. By the time she got back to the kitchen, Faith was already sitting at the table with her pizza slice shaped plate, Jamie nearly finished cutting up the slice.

“How did you know about the pizza plate?” Claire said, amused.

“Well, I tried putting it on a normal plate, and she wasna having that. Tried one of those princess plates I ken ye’ve got, didna work either. Then she dragged me to the cabinet and wouldna move ’til I found this.” He finished cutting the pizza, having kept the general shape of it to fit the shape of the plate.

Claire’s grin was unabashedly enormous, and she closed the gap between them, meeting him behind Faith’s chair.

“Excellent work, detective.” He smirked, and she leaned in to kiss him, emboldened by Faith’s lack of attention, focused as she was on eating her pizza. Jamie hummed with amused contentment into the kiss, causing a brief vibrating sensation against her lips.

Jamie trailed his fingertips up over her hips to rest on the small of her back, pointedly avoiding her arse. Claire groaned in annoyance, but grinned anyway, pulling away to rest their foreheads together, draping her arms around his neck. For a moment, they just swayed absently to the music of Faith’s humming to the tune of “Someday My Prince Will Come,” not skipping a beat even as she chewed.

It wasn’t long at all before Faith pushed her plate away and hoisted herself up onto her knees, turning around to stand on the chair and tap on both of their heads. They both laughed softly.

“All done, lovie?” Claire took her hands off Jamie so she could sign. “All done?”

Faith repeated the sign lazily, and Claire was about to correct her when she started jumping in the chair, pointing at the freezer.

“Woah! Careful there, lass. Remember what Mam said about climbing, aye?” Without thinking, Jamie scooped her up from under her arms, lifted her over the back of the chair, and deposited her safely onto the ground.

Claire thought absolutely nothing of it, starting to head over to the freezer for Faith’s ice cream, but then Jamie froze. He drew away from Faith quickly yet gently, looking up at Claire, absolutely mortified.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I should have asked. I’ve no right tae just pick her up like that. I’m sorry, Claire.”

Faith was none the wiser; she flitted over to the freezer.

“Jamie,” Claire said quickly, reaching for his hands. “She’s fine.” She maintained eye contact to emphasize her point, but the worry between his furrowed brows would not ease. “She’s been letting you touch her for a while now. That was perfectly normal for her. And perfectly natural for you to do it.”

“Are ye…are ye sure…?”

Claire still held his gaze as she raised his hands to her lips and kissed them fervently. “She trusts you, Jamie.”

Faith gave a small shout then, apparently not at all pleased that her request for ice cream was going ignored for so long.

“You ok?” Claire asked.

“Aye, sorry,” he chuckled. “Wee panic over nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Claire left his side to open the freezer, and Faith began bouncing with joy. “It makes perfect sense that you’d be afraid to cross that boundary with her. But I think in her head, you’re already past that point.”

She reached into the cabinet for a bowl and then the drawer for a spoon.

“I, uh…” Jamie stammered. “Hadna realized, I suppose.”

“You really don’t know how special you are to her? — Yes, yes, go sit down.” Claire crossed the kitchen to put down the ice cream in Faith’s spot.

“I suppose I…hoped. But I never wanted to assume,” Jamie said sheepishly. “I ken ye say I’m ‘dating’ ye both, but I didna ken if she…knew that.”

Claire chuckled softly, caressing Faith’s curly head as her spoon clanked against her bowl. “I think she does.”

Jamie’s grin widened lopsidedly, and Claire had to physically restrain herself from jumping into his arms and kissing him senseless.

“Ye’ll tell me, though? If I need to pull back wi’ her?”

“I think she would tell you, loud and clear,” Claire said dryly, her eyes full of mirth. “No, I know what you mean. And yes, I would. Surely it’s not the same with you as it is for me where you can just snatch her like I have to sometimes. It’s a bit different, as…”

“Her parent,” Jamie finished for her, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah.”

“Believe me, I understand. I ken I’m no’ her parent.”

Claire’s stomach flipped; not at what he said, but at what her brain decided to say after he said it.

You could be.

“Right,” she said instead, internally yelling back at herself that she was a nutter for thinking something so bloody serious about a man who she’d gone on a first date with a week ago. “But you’re…building something different, special in its own way. You both need time before you have to start laying down the law like I have to.”

“Aye, I understand.”

“But,” Claire said, finally making her way over to him and taking his hands again. “You can pick her up if it looks like she wants you to, you can hold her hand, hug her, whatever it seems she wants from you.” Jamie nodded, his eyes lighting up. “You read her well enough at this point. You’ll know.”

“Aye. I will.”

Claire pecked him gently. When she pulled away, Jamie was not looking at her, but instead looking out of the corner of his eye. When Claire followed his gaze, she caught Faith flitting out of the kitchen, hands and face still smeared with chocolate ice cream.

“Oh no you don’t!” Claire rushed to snatch Faith by the wrist and drag her back into the kitchen and toward the sink. “There will be no watching any movie that gets smothered with ice cream.”

Faith squirmed in annoyance and tried to get away, and then Claire got an idea.

“Hey, hey, listen, Faith,” she said. “Why doesn’t Jamie help you wash your hands? Hm?”

She looked up to Jamie, and he immediately sprang into action. “Right, how does that sound, lass?”

Faith immediately stopped fighting, and she turned around to face Jamie, holding up her messy hands expectantly. Jamie chuckled and turned on the water, then lifted her under the arms so she could reach the running water.

“Very good, give them a good scrub,” he crooned, and she obeyed clumsily. “Give yer face a good scrub too, aye? Dinna want chocolate-mouth fer yer movie. Aye, good girl.”

Claire stood there against the counter, paper towel ready for drying, her heart swelling three sizes.

How could I ever have thought we’d be better off without him…?

So occupied she was with adoration, she nearly missed when Faith was back on the ground and Jamie turned off the taps.

“Good job, Faithie,” Claire said, crouching down to wipe her face clean of any more smudges, using the lingering water on her face, then dried her hands. “Alright, all done. Let’s pick a movie, shall we?”

They shifted into the living room, where Faith retrieved Monsters, Inc., and they settled into their usual positions. Claire didn’t have a shift this week that ended early enough for Jamie to have time to come over and make dinner before Faith’s bedtime, so they were getting in their movie time tonight. Since dinner was a bit earlier than normal, the movie also ended a bit earlier than normal. They finished the puzzle that Faith hadn’t finished with Delia, then started and finished another one, all while Faith’s music played from Claire’s phone, with the occasional interruption for a little dance.

When bedtime rolled around, Jamie said goodnight to Faith, earning a pat on the cheek before she scurried off. After the whole routine, Claire poured them drinks and nuzzled into him on the couch. She flicked Netflix on and let The Office start playing from a random episode in the middle of season three.

“Ye’re like a wee kitten,” Jamie said.

“What?” She craned her neck to pick her head up from its spot on his chest.

“The way ye’re stretched out and balled up at the same time, all over me.”

Claire made an indignant little “hmph” sound, but made no attempt to move; she, in fact, buried herself in further.

“I hope you’re at least a cat person,” she said.

He made an amused Scottish noise. “More of a dog person, really. No’ those wee yapping ones; I need a beast wi’ more substance. Like Angus. That’s a fine creature.”

Claire scoffed indignantly, sitting up and facing him. “So you tell me I’m a kitten and then tell me you don’t like cats.”

“Didna say I didna like ’em.”

“You may as well have.”

“Och, Sassenach.” He leaned in, his lips lingering inches from hers. “Ye ken by now I like having ye on top of me, feline or no.”

He made to close the gap, to kiss her, but Claire leaned back, causing him to chase after her and open his eyes when he didn’t make contact. Claire laughed at the unconscious pout he made. “What on Earth ever made me think you were the smoothest talker I ever met?”

“Dinna ken about that. My foot ends up in my mouth quite more than I’d care to admit.”

“Hm. Indeed.”

“I’d much rather…” He moved in closer, and Claire had no further to go, stuck against the arm of the couch. “Have something else in my mouth.”

“Oh?” She raised a brow, then darted her tongue out to lick her lips, far too slowly. “What could that be?”

He growled possessively and claimed her lips with his, and she moaned lightly against them. She did not waste any time before obliging him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and mingling it with his. They lingered like this for a moment, performing the carefully and repeatedly rehearsed dance of lips and tongue, then they parted, Jamie folding her into himself again. They focused lazily on the tellie for a bit before Jamie broke the silence.

“Ye ever seen the beaches around here, Sassenach?”

“No, actually. Seems silly after how long I’ve been here now.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I was just thinking about my own family dogs running around on the beaches in Scotland — ”

“So now you were thinking of dogs while kissing me?”

“And I — Och, come off it.” He playfully swatted her arse, causing her to squeak and swat him back, directly on his left pectoral. “I was thinking that it would be nice to take Faith. She likes the water, aye?”

“Yes, she’s obsessed, ever since she was a baby. Bath time is a field day. Ever since I took her to the Abernathy’s pool that one time, every time Gail comes over Faith scurries into her room for her bathing suit.”

Jamie laughed softly. “She kens what she wants.”

“Indeed.”

“So…what d’ye think? Would she be alright if there was a crowd?”

“Well…we won’t know unless we try. And Angus is helpful during stable events. So maybe she’ll be alright.”

“Aye, he’s a service dog so he’ll be allowed on any beach we choose.”

Claire got an image in her head of Faith squishing sand in her hands, loving the sensory aspect of it, squealing as cold water rushed over her toes.

“If she canna handle it we’ll have a backup plan. We can take her to the stables and use the sprinkler from the Fourth of July. Fill a kiddie pool or something.”

Claire felt warmth spread from head to toe. He knew without having to ask that even if Faith didn’t want to be at the beach, if she was in her bathing suit, she’d be expecting a water activity and would not be happy doing anything else.

She sat up and tenderly kissed his check, caressing his stubbled chin and jaw. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

He smiled and took her caressing hand in both of his, then kissed her knuckles. “Alright. That’s braw. I ken most of the beaches, so I ken the ones that are most crowded, the ones that play loud live music, which ones have sand or rocks. Faith’ll want sand, of course.”

She smiled, nodding. “Right.”

“Next Saturday? I’ll prepare the lunches, you prepare the bairn and the dog?”

“Yes, okay. That’s perfect.”

Seemingly from sheer excitement nearly bubbling over, Jamie kissed her soundly.

“I’ll start preparing her starting tomorrow, give her a rundown of the routine — ”

“I’ll arrive at nine to pick ye both up — ”

“Great, I can tell her what time she needs to wake up, what time breakfast needs to be finished, what time she needs to dress and lotion up — ”

“Have her bring her tablet in the car, the beach I have in mind is an hour away — ”

“I’ll lay some towels on the living room floor, and we’ll practice staying on the towel so maybe she won’t bolt while we’re there — ”

“Fine idea. That’s braw.”

They were talking over each other, stumbling over their words like a couple of school children talking about recess. They shook their heads at themselves, then shared another kiss, lingering with their foreheads together.

“D’ye think it’ll ever stop?”

“What?”

“This…feeling. Like I’m…gonna burst at the thought of seeing ye again, even when ye’re still right in front of me.”

Claire pulled away only enough so that she could meet his eye and caress his chin.

“I don't know. But I hope it never does.”

137 notes · View notes

seriouslyhooked · 3 years

Text

The Best Bad Idea

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey all! Here is a little something I made instead of being a responsible writer and finishing my other projects. I’ll be back to my other WIPs soon (God willing), but in the meantime here’s my 1000th attempt at writing a Captain Swan meet cute. I needed to get some words on the page, and this is the result. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, Thump. Steady, sure, and even. A solid pulsing sound with no inconsistencies and no delays or false starts.

In this particular patient, that fourth set of beats was the most important. Prior to his recent operation, Earl MacDonald’s heart had been weak and skipping needed pulses, then constricting far too harshly on every fourth measure. That type of arrhythmia had potentially disastrous consequences, but those worrying beats were seemingly behind them. The rhythm Emma heard through the stethoscope was a regularly circulating drumline, the tell-tale song of a heart that was working, and working well. Her surgical intervention had been successful.

She gently released the breath she was holding, a sign of the stress that she carried while waiting for patients to recuperate. Emma never let the patients see her sweat, but she had been worried on multiple levels in this case. Earl was going on 80, and not a logical contender for intensive cardiac mediation, but Emma’s gut had told her he could handle it, and she was rarely ever wrong. Earl forged through the surgery like a much younger man, and his outputs post-operation had all been extremely encouraging. It was shaping up to be another win, another life saved thanks to the power of medicine, and that filled Emma with real joy. She always did her absolute best to create good outcomes, and this time there was so much more on the line than one life. This was a man who was loved and cherished by the people closest to him, and who would be sorely missed if something were to happen.

“Anything you want me to note for the chart, Doctor Swan?”

Emma bit back a witty retort at the pointed use of the word ‘Doctor.’ She was one of the few surgeons in this hospital who didn’t care what people called her, as long as they called on her early enough to actually save the patient’s life. But with Belle, a person Emma considered a dear and true friend, there was an added lilt of sass when using her title. Her friend was one of the nurse practitioners that Emma had been working with for years, since the day she landed here as a medical intern, but despite their differences in degrees, Belle was easily the most well-read and brilliant resource when it came to medical literature in this hospital.

“Just that Mr. MacDonald is healing nicely.”

“Did you hear that Lorraine?” Earl asked, with a Cheshire cat smile on his face, and the glint of true pride in his eyes. “Doctor Emma says I’m healing nicely.”

“Hard not to hear, seeing as I’m right beside you,” Loraine quipped, but she squeezed his hand affectionately, and offered a warm smile to her husband all the same.

“You know, usually being dubbed ‘nice’ is the kiss of death for a man.”

“Earl!” Loraine chastised, clearly not liking his word choice. Earl smiled wider, looking almost boyish in his delight.

“Well, so to speak. But I was going to say that I think we can make an exception this time. I’ve never been so happy to be referred to as ‘nice’ in my life.”

“Technically Doctor Swan was referring to your vital signs, Earl,” Belle taunted from across the room, holding back a smile Emma knew she was bound to let loose soon enough.

“Aw come on, you both know I am your favorite patient. I mean I’m not exactly pressed for competition. Have you seen the people on this floor? Good grief.”

“Ignore him, ladies. He’s all talk. He hasn’t left this room since we got here,” Loraine said, rolling her eyes, as if these antics were a constant occurrence. Based on her small window of experience with Earl, Emma would believe it. “Every meal, every visit, every moment has been within these four walls. Even his PT has been in here.”

“His PT has been here?” Emma asked, surprised that Mary Margaret, their head Occupational Therapist, had allowed for that. She was normally a by-the-book professional, and Emma never knew her friend to provide rehab consults outside of her studio.

“Yup. I told Miss Mary Margaret that I had a wife to keep an eye on and she relented.”

“No, actually what you said was, ‘Excuse me, Ms. Blanchard? You probably heard I just had heart surgery. Well, the thing is, my heart is sitting in this room. I’d like to be with her. Doesn’t seem right to be separated so soon, given what we’ve been through.’ Then you pointed at me, and used your puppy dog eyes on her. Next thing I knew, she had lugged enough equipment to fill the room here. No questions, just action.”

“I bet she ate that right up,” Belle said with a wink. “Mary Margaret loves nothing more than love itself.”

Belle and Mrs. MacDonald discussed Mary Margaret’s love of love, and Earl’s improved mobility, for a few more minutes while Emma continued checking his stats, but ultimately Earl’s patience was wearing thin. He really only had one thing on his mind, and he was now determined to ask about it. Emma was honestly shocked that he managed to wait this long. She knew it was only a matter of time and she was ready for the showdown.

“So, what do you think, Doc? Am I making it home in time for the party?”

“The one for your grandson on Sunday?” she asked, noting the three-day window between now and then. She had heard about this party non-stop, since the moment Earl woke up from the procedure. It was a central fixation for the old man, a celebration that would host his entire family, and a goal he had been carrying for over a week. Earl nodded and Emma hesitated for a few seconds, before smiling and giving the good news away. “Yes, I am confident that Jayden’s ‘Pop Pops’ will be in attendance when he turns four. But you know the rules…”

“I know, I know: no good food, no strenuous exercise, no having fun.”

“Earl.” Just the utterance of the old man’s name from his wife was enough to have him looking like a kid with his hand caught in the candy jar. Emma and Belle both chuckled at that child-like expression. It was hard not to; the old married couple was just too sweet.

“I’m sorry. I know this is serious, but what is life if you can’t have a little fun?”

“Fun comes in all shapes and sizes, Mr. MacDonald, and despite what you may think about your prescribed lifestyle changes, you’re forgetting two things. First, most of these less-alluring prescriptions will be temporary, and second, you’re a man who clearly loves a challenge.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you know that, Doc?”

“Well for one thing, you somehow landed a lady as remarkable as Loraine. There’s no way she came easy with these corny jokes of yours. You must have worked harder than you ever worked in your life to persuade her to give you a chance.”

The laughter from the older couple was boisterous and heartwarming, and Emma knew she was right on the money. At this point, she had the ability to sniff out true affection, and these two had it in spades. Many couples she saw facing emergency room disasters together didn’t have the same good luck.

“You got that right, Doc. You know the first time we met was at the -,”

Earl’s story was unceremoniously interrupted by the crackling of the PA system specific to this room. It buzzed for a few moments before a message was delivered in a saccharine sweet voice that sounded nothing like the announcer’s normal tone.

“Paging Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station. Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station, code 741.”

Emma waited for the feed to cut off and began to tell Earl to please go on with the story, but the call came out again.

“Paging Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station. Doctor Swan, code 741.”

“You know she’s just going to keep doing that until she gets her way,” Belle murmured. Emma nodded. It was no use. What Ruby Lucas wanted, Ruby Lucas got. That just seemed to be the way of the world.

“Belle, would you mind telling Ruby I’m with a patient at the moment? I will be there when I can. She can always proceed without me.”

Belle snorted out a laugh, knowing that last part would never happen, but gave a swift affirmation that she would relay the message before waving goodbye to the MacDonald’s and promising to see them soon. As her friend headed out, Emma sighed, knowing there was no way Ruby was going to give things up that easily. She had a matter of moments before some new tactic would be deployed.

“I’m sorry about that. You were saying?”

“Eh it’s kind of a long story, and you’ve got places to be, Doc. Just know, true love won out in the end with me and my Loraine. It always does.”

Emma couldn’t deny that their love appeared true even after their fifty plus years together. She personally had never experienced a love like that, but she was wondering more and more if maybe it was out there, somewhere in the later chapters of her story. For years she thought herself above that kind of need. She found validation in herself and in her work. She dedicated herself to helping others, and that had always been enough. But the loneliness that became a constant when she was growing up in foster care still lingered, and she wondered if someone might ever come along who could inspire her to take a chance and risk her heart.

“You know, I actually worked as a nurse before my kids were born,” Loraine commented easily. Emma nodded and smiled as she checked the last of Mr. MacDonald’s IV drips. Emma was aware of the older woman’s solid medical understanding. Loraine had continued to demonstrate it the entire time her husband was admitted in this ward. “I’m trying to remember if I ever ran into a code 741.”

“Oh, uh, I think – well, erm, I mean you probably didn’t,” Emma said, hoping she didn’t turn beet red at the passing comment from the older woman. She was already stuttering, which was completely out of character and eighty shades of embarrassing. Loraine’s words feigned ignorance, but her eyes told a different story. Still Emma tried to play it off. “It’s really not a big deal. Just a non-emergent protocol.”

Another alert sounded, but this time it came through the ceiling unit reserved for announcements to the wider reaches of the hospital. “Attention to all surgical ward personnel. We are paging Doctor Swan to the nurse’s station. Doctor Swan, you are needed at the nurse’s station immediately for a code 741.” The talking stopped, but the air crackled signaling that the line was still live. “Immediately.”

“Sounds pretty urgent to me,” Loraine replied. The curiosity in her gaze told Emma that the older woman was onto them, but it was Earl’s comment that cut too close for comfort.

“When I was in the war, all of our numeric codes corresponded to letters. So 7 was H, 4 was D, 1 was A. H – D – A. HDA, now what could that be….?” Uh oh. Now Emma really had to get out of here before she accidentally admitted Ruby’s code’s meaning – Hot Doctor Alert. That would be the cherry on top of a full-blown mortification sundae.

“All righty, well like I told Belle, all your scans look good. Doctor Whale is on shift this evening during the next series of rounds, so I’ll make sure your file is ready for him.”

“Of course, dear, and good luck with your doctor, er – I mean – code.”

Emma stammered out something like an ‘okay thanks,’ while leaving. She tried to get her bearings once she was out of sight of the room, but she had nowhere to go. Everyone on this floor had just heard her page, and there were bound to be at least a few who understood the meaning. She was so embarrassed, and more than a little ticked at Ruby. She was supposed to be her best friend, but she was always pulling these crazy stunts. They were mostly harmless, but for Emma, who hated being the subject of hospital gossip, it was anxiety inducing to say the least.

“Please tell me that you did not just broadcast that to the entire hospital,” Emma said, arriving at the nurse’s station with a sense of urgency, and watching some of the other nurses scurry off to avoid the confrontation. Ruby, however, was unfazed. Actually, the nurse manager just rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag and phone from her cubby, as if Emma was the one who was annoying and not the other way around.

“And here I was thinking we were the best of friends. Soul sisters, kindred spirits, friends for life. But no, ye of little faith, you actually believe I would broadcast the hot doc alert to all of Mist Haven? What kind of friend would do that?”

“But if you didn’t… then how did you…?” Emma’s questions trailed off, but her arms flailed towards the ceiling and the look on her face spoke for itself – how had Ruby used the hospital wide PA system without actually broadcasting to the entire hospital?

“You know Tink up in nuero?” Emma nodded, well acquainted with the nurse manager who had Ruby’s job on the fifth floor but with a specialization of the brain and nervous system. She was a tiny woman, but she ruled that ward with more than capable hands. “She and I bribed the IT guys to make the nurse managers an override. Now we can circumvent the PA software whenever we want. Bring some of you more stubborn Doctors to heal when it comes to answering our pages.”

“That’s… well, actually that’s genius,” Emma admitted.

“I like to think so,” Ruby teased, offering a genuine smile. The two friends laughed at all of this, and Emma felt so much better knowing that their secret was still relatively secure. The last thing she wanted was everyone knowing how she was spending her lunch breaks these days.

“Gus, you’re holding down the fort while I’m gone, right?” Ruby asked, her smile turning slightly wicked with the purposeful jest aimed at the new nursing aid sitting behind the desk.

“Me?” The new hire replied, suddenly white as a sheet. Emma had never seen the man so stricken, and as a new nurse he had plenty of high-stress moments to look alarmed during. “I – uh – well – I -,”

“It’s called comedic relief, Gus. Commonly referred to as joking. Do me a favor, learn about it by the end of shift, kay?” Ruby pivoted to the person she actually trusted to man the fort. “Thirty minutes work for you, Belle?”

“I’ve got it handled.”

“Excellent. We’ll return with a full report,” Ruby said, grabbing Emma’s arm and moving them down the hallway before Emma could even say goodbye. “Newbies – can’t live with them, can’t pawn off scut work without them.”

“You are terrible. And yet… the look on his face just now…? Priceless,” Emma acquiesced. “But seriously, Ruby, can we PLEASE find another way to page me for this? My patients are not stupid, and the code isn’t exactly original. It’s kind of…” Ruby’s grin was so big that it stopped Emma in her tracks. She was currently trying to hold her friend to account, but Ruby looked like she’d won the lottery. “What?”

“You are so totally into him! I mean listen to you right now.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Emma said, feeling her cheeks flush against her will.

“Exactly,” Ruby said. “You’re telling me to be more discreet when I send the bat signal, but you still want me to send it. Do you realize how unlike you that is?”

“Despite what you may think, Ruby. I’m a doctor, I’m not dead. I can appreciate a hot guy now and again.”

“Doubtful. Remember last month when all those pro hockey players were here after Ocheski collapsed on the ice? You had a room full of crazy sexy men. Like virile, hot, muscled men who get paid big money to beat each other up on the ice. Most women would die for that chance, and to make it even better, most of them were hitting on you. And what did you do? Nothing. You didn’t even blink.”

“They were not hitting on me,” Emma affirmed, but the words were hollow. They had been trying to flirt with her. A few had even attempted to get her number.

“They were hitting on you,” Ruby said adamantly.

“He was a patient, and the rest of them were essentially his family. You know I’d never cross that line. Doesn’t count.”

“Fine, then what about Dr. King? When he came for that conjoined twins case last year, you had no interest. Zero. Zilch.”

“King was an asshole, you know that,” Emma said, belatedly catching her use of profanity and checking that no patients were around. Luckily the coast was clear.

“So? You didn’t have to marry the guy. Hot is hot, honey. That’s just how things are.”

Emma barked out a laugh at even the thought of marrying someone like that. Arthur King was just about the worst person she could fathom to spend a life with. He was narcissistic and carrying around one of the biggest god-complexes she’d ever seen, and she was a surgeon, so she was an expert on god-complexes.

“Your face really says it all, Emma. I mean honestly, poker would be a terrible game for you to take up. Your contempt for King is obvious, but, meanwhile, as soon as I mention Doctor Jones… aha! See, totally shifted.”

Emma didn’t know what to say to that. She could try and protest, but her friend knew her too well for that. The best thing to do was say nothing, and she was saved by their arrival at their destination. The coffee cart in the center of the action, near the entrance of Mist Haven. Here was where the wards crossed paths. Her surgical wing met up with the specialties departments, the ER, the community clinic, and more. It was also swarmed with both hospital workers and visitors. Typically, this was the last place she wanted to be, but recently it had become a highlight of her day.

“Emma? Ruby? What’s brought you out here?” a voice asked. It was Mary Margaret, and given her street clothes and jacket, Emma would guess she was just starting her shift.

“Haven’t you heard? There’s fresh meat from the ER. Two showings a day, but we favor the afternoon delight.”

“Oh right,” Mary Margaret said, nodding, like Ruby’s words were totally normal, and for Ruby they were. “I heard about the new ER Chief. Doctor Nolan? I meant to get down there and bring him something to welcome him, but I’ve been so swamped this week. My caseload is crazy at the moment. I hope he won’t think too badly of me for being a bit late.”

“Mary Margaret, literally no one in a hospital brings people cupcakes as a welcome gift, especially not new guys in other departments.” Ruby was not wrong. Hospitals were hardly the most happy-go-lucky of places. At least not usually. “Believe me, the man will be grateful whenever they come. If he even eats them. He’s fit – like fit, fit. Keto diet and a personal trainer fit. The kind of fit that makes you -,”

“Careful, Ruby,” Emma teased. “What if Graham heard you saying that?”

“God, I wish. You know how worked up he gets, and how he works out his frustrations.” Ruby’s tone was dripping in suggestion. “It’s one of the many reasons I live to drive him crazy.”

Emma and Mary Margaret laughed at Ruby’s apt assessment of her relationship with her boyfriend. Ruby had been dating the fireman for almost a year now, since he came in on one of the ambulance bays with a victim he’d rescued from a fire, but Ruby was hardly the predictable type, and Graham seemed to love that about her. They were still going strong despite her willful, wild child nature, and Emma suspected they may be built to last.

“Doctor Nolan must really be something to get you out here, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, moving forward in the line, inching ever closer to the mediocre coffee the cart promised.

“Ha! Hardly. Emma’s not here for Nolan. She’s here for Jones.”

“Jones?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Girl, where have you been? Doctor Killian Jones, trauma surgeon extraordinaire. Chief Mills brought him here for a ‘collaboration’ with the ER, but she’s totally trying to recruit him for head of his own department. Turns out he and David Nolan are old friends. Same medical school maybe? I don’t know, no one’s gotten me those details yet. Anyway, Regina hardly leaves him alone. She only misses this little window because she’s hooking up with Doctor Locksley in the supply room on the 2nd floor.”

“She’s WHAT?!” Emma and Mary Margaret yelled at the same time and Ruby looked aghast for the first time today. Some other hospital staff in the area glanced over, but no one paid much mind beyond a head nod. Everyone was absorbed in their own need for caffeine, and no one was the wiser of the bombshell Ruby had just dropped.

“Oh shoot, I wasn’t supposed to say that. I promised Ella, damn it!”

“Ella, her assistant? I thought she quit,” Mary Margaret stage whispered.

“Oh she did. Made it a whole two months, which, you know, makes sense given the fact that Regina is a nightmare. But the last week she was here, she learned a crucial secret regarding her Majesty. She spilled last week at The White Rabbit, but I promised her I wouldn’t tell until she’s settled at her new job at GMH. So you did not hear this from me, and I did not hear this from her, capische?”

“I can’t believe the Evil Queen is dating someone,” Mary Margaret said, deeply disturbed by the idea. She shuddered at the thought, and this was someone who loved love. But love and Regina Mills didn’t really feel like concepts that belonged in the same sentence. Scratch that, they didn’t really even belong in the same book. “She’s just so…”

“Evil?” Emma responded. The nickname worked for a reason, after all. The hospital Chief was downright tyrannical.

“Exactly.”

“Well dating is a stretch. She’s screwing someone. But then again, who knows. Ella said she actually saw her smiling in those final days. And not that evil one she’s famous for. Like a real, genuine, I have a heart, smile.”

“No way,” Emma said at the same time Mary Margaret murmured, “Well would you look at that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m on the case. The temp is a totally easy mark – Sydney something. I’m buying him lunch tomorrow. I’ll have the whole story before you know it.”

“Won’t Graham be proud,” Emma chuckled, but her joke fell on deaf ears as something caught Ruby’s attention across the way. Her friend’s countenance changed immediately, putting Emma on alert.

“Ooh, they’re coming! Act normal.”

Normally, Emma would have laughed at that command, but she was too busy feeling the spike of adrenaline at the impending arrival of one Doctor Killian Jones. He really was a world-renowned trauma surgeon, who was working on a number of cutting-edge techniques that saved lives and gave critical care patients better chances to recover. She had actually heard of him a few years ago when reading about a new procedure to treat arrhythmia in patients with traumatic injury. He engineered it in the field, while serving in the British naval forces, and his paper had been circulating in cardiac wings around the country, but she never saw the man before last week when he arrived in Boston. Suffice it to say she could not have imagined that this marvel of modern medicine would also be so roguishly handsome.

Spotting him today across the great hall, Emma was struck again by just how attractive this man was. She couldn’t even comprehend it really. All she knew was that she had yet to find a fault in him. Every day she’d stolen secret glances, and every time he proved better than her memory. It was crazy, and very reminiscent of schoolgirl crushes and teenage day dreams, but she couldn’t help the way she felt. It was intoxicating, and despite her best efforts, she was powerless to turn Ruby’s invites to the show down when she could witness this each and every day.

The first thing that she’d noticed about him was his general presence. His posture was strong and straight and assured. He looked ready for anything, but somehow laid back, like he was totally in control. People naturally parted when he walked by, as if he silently willed the flow of the hospital traffic. Ruby called it swagger. Emma called it… well something not quite safe for work. Couple that general aura of authority with the classically gorgeous features of his face, and Emma was lost. On that first day (and okay, maybe on the others as well), she actually felt her knees get weak. She always thought that was a bogus cliché, but nope, it was real, and she was the proof of it. From there she was hooked, and over time she’d chronicled more and more things to like about him.

Yesterday it had been his hair. As she watched him across the atrium, she noticed that the shade shone bright in the sun, but that it was nearer to midnight than any color brown. It was slightly longer than most of the other male doctors wore theirs, but not so long that it looked unkempt or unprofessional, at least not yet. She knew for a fact that the military never would allow for such a style, and it felt like a bit of rebellion, or maybe a lack of care for what others thought. Both sent a delicious thrill through Emma, even though she had no real confirmation one way or another. Maybe he was just lazy, but that wasn’t how she imagined him…

And oh boy did she imagine him. At first she hadn’t meant to. She just had these flashbacks to seeing him that she carried through the day. These visceral visions always started the same: he would walk by, looking downright delicious and impossible to resist, then he would turn his eyes her way here in the middle of the hospital hustle and bustle. She’d feel caught in his stare, sense the hunger even from the distance, and her heart would quicken to a maddening crescendo as he walked her way. The rest of the world would fade from view, and it would feel like they were the only two people alive. Her gaze would stay transfixed on his almost cocky composure and the hard line of his bearded jaw. The attraction in his blue eyes would light a fire in her, and then, without so much as a word like ‘hello’ or ‘nice to meet you,’ he’d pull her into his embrace and kiss her senseless. She could practically taste him on her tongue, and yet she’d never even heard him speak. People who had, who were later interrogated by Ruby, mentioned that he had an accent. British or Irish, or something along those lines. That tidbit had played oh so sweetly in Emma’s mind this week. God, she’d love to hear him say her name -,

“Emma,” a voice beside her said, but it didn’t pull her out of the fog. “Oh my God, Emma, he’s looking right at you.”

“He’s what?” Emma said, blinking back to reality before finding that Doctor Jones was looking this way. She’d been so busy fantasizing, she stopped paying attention to what was right in front of her.

In the middle of the room, the man who had intrigued her for over a week was standing totally still, disregarding the swarm of people on all sides. His entire attention had shifted from the task ahead of him, and he was looking at her, staring with a blend of intrigue and something Emma couldn’t describe. Doctor Nolan had stopped as well, but he was clearly confused as to the delay. He seemed to ask his friend what was wrong, and Emma watched spell bound, as the lips she’d envisioned kissing her moved in some kind of unheard reply. She couldn’t make out his words, but she shivered at the passion and determination etched across his being. David then looked their way, and Emma knew that Doctor Jones – Killian - had asked about them. No, forget that, he had asked about her. He was looking right at her, and that spark of heat and desire she’d always imagined was nowhere near as tantalizing as the real thing. He was looking at her with the same hunger she’d reserved for her wildest imaginings. Holy crap, what was she going to do?

“Ruby?” she asked, her voice squeaked out in alarm. She tore her gaze from the approaching object of her desire and looked to her best friend with overt confusion and mild panic.

“Took him long enough to spot you. It’s been almost a week. I thought I was going to have to hire a marching band or one of those giant arrow guys they have at outlet malls.”

Emma didn’t understand, and then it dawned on her – her friend had planned this. Emma looked at Mary Margaret, but she was still staring in the distance. Only when Emma followed her gaze did she realize that Mary Margaret wasn’t looking at Killian. She was looking at David.

“Hey, ladies, you looking to order, or what? I ain’t got all day!”

The three of them jumped at the barista’s interruption and Mary Margaret surged ahead to the line. She rattled off an order, giving way too much money to the attendant while grabbing her cup with shaky hands. Then she looked at David and back to Emma with an expression that said Mary Margaret may just bolt. Ok, what the actual hell was going on?

Before she could begin to answer that internal question, Doctor Jones and Doctor Nolan were within ear shot. Emma wracked her brain for something to say when they finally got here, but was spared when David broke the ice.

“Doctor Swan,” he said with a head nod and a polite smile. They knew each other peripherally at this point. Emma had consulted on numerous ER cases since Doctor Nolan started his new position. But she wouldn’t call them friends. They were very much acquaintances. “I heard Earl MacDonald is recovering nicely. He most definitely has you to thank for that.”

“And you too,” she said, offering credit where it was due. “A quick diagnosis makes all the difference. I’ve noticed the ER is filled with them since you started.”

“That’s kind of you. I don’t believe you’ve met my friend, Doctor Jones.”

“Killian,” Doctor Jones said immediately, before offering a heart stopping smile of his own. Emma had yet to see the man smile, and her heart skipped a beat, the rhythm of her pulse skittering in an almost blissful way. “A pleasure to meet you, Swan.”

He offered his hand to her, and Emma took it, shaking in greeting even though it was uncommon for doctors or nursing staff to do so. Chief Mills stressed that germ management was a top priority at Mist Haven, and she’d come as close to banning the practice as was legal in the state of Massachusetts. Usually Emma didn’t mind, but germs were the farthest thing from her radar when their fingers touched. Instead, Emma was filled with the zapping sense of promise and a thrill of warmth that made her head swim.

“Emma,” she whispered. A beat passed between them, and Emma lost herself for too long. Only the clearing of a throat beside them brought her back to the moment. She let go of his hand, but tracked the slight disappointment on his face when she did. It filled her with a rush of something long forgotten. A sense of peace and elation she hadn’t tasted in years. “Um these are my friends, Ruby Lucas and Mary Margaret Blanchard. Ruby’s the head nurse in the cardiac unit. And Mary Margaret runs OT for the surgical division.”

Emma tore her gaze from Killian, watching her friends make their greetings. Ruby handled her own completely, and Mary Margaret seemed to have gathered her courage, but now it was David who looked shocked and spell bound. Everyone appeared to be thrown off kilter, and it was only Ruby in control of herself. To say her friend was positively delighted with these new developments would be an understatement. That glee rang out clear as day in her invite to both the attending doctors.

“So… Doctor Nolan, Doctor Jones, any way we could convince you to join us? The coffee’s just all right, but the company’s not half bad.”

Both men agreed immediately, and Emma fought her hardest not to blush. It was hard though, and her pulse was racing in the face of this development. Killian came to stand by her, the space between them so small but still too much to bear. She tried to get her bearings as the cranky barista handed her a latte. She struggled to think of something – anything – to say, but she was tongue tied. Instead, she looked at Killian, finding an openness in his expression that said he felt the same exact way. That gave her comfort and removed some of the tension from the moment.

“The hospital’s been buzzing since you got here,” Emma offered, waiting with him while he ordered a no nonsense coffee of his own. “A lot of people are hoping you’ll stay on past the month.”

“And you, love? Have you such hopes?” his words were earnest but laced with an almost cocky easiness that sent Emma’s mind humming in delight. Still, she played it cool. At least she hoped she did.

“Jury’s still out,” she replied, smiling when he looked a little crestfallen. “Well can you blame me? I hardly even know you. Still haven’t seen what you’re capable of.”

“Only a matter of time, Swan. You can trust in that.”

His words may seem benign, but they were loaded with hidden meaning, and Emma knew he meant each one. She swallowed harshly, thinking of the things he might be capable of. Damn, was it hot in here? Or was it just the devil on her shoulder spinning another one of those dirty dreams of hers?

When they’d all gotten a coffee, the five of them moved off to the patio just outside, reserved for hospital staff. The grounds were manicured beautifully, maintaining an oasis that seemed totally disconnected from the hectic nature of the hospital. This was one of Emma’s favorite places here, and she was surprised to hear that neither David nor Killian had been here yet. They all spent a few minutes making non-threatening small talk, with mostly Ruby moving the conversations along. But despite the fluttering feeling she was grappling with, Emma couldn’t say she hated this building anticipation. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so much. She was seated next to Killian, fully aware that all of his attention was devoted to her, and she reveled in it. At one point, while the others were talking about something with the OT department, Killian whispered to her and her alone.

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…” His eyes looked from hers down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from him. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across the summer sky.

“We could…” she continued, hoping he would elaborate and put into words what she herself was wishing for.

“That we could -,”

“Paging all staff to the ER. All staff to the ER for an incoming trauma, category 4.”

This time the PA was most definitely broadcasting a hospital wide announcement, and the irony wasn’t lost on Emma. Ruby looked positively forlorn at the interruption, but it was somewhat poetic after how they’d gotten here.

“Category four,” David repeated, standing immediately, prompting all of them to do the same. “We haven’t had a four since I started. We’re gonna need all hands on deck. Killian?”

“Aye, mate. I’m with you.” He looked back to Emma, and only had time for the swiftest goodbye. “Until next time, love.”

Emma and her friends watched them go, running towards the ER. Belatedly, they realized that if a trauma of that magnitude was coming into the hospital, there were bound to be surgical cases flooding their ward soon enough. They hustled back to their wing, focused once more on their jobs and the lives on the line that they were sworn to help heal and make better. But Emma still carried that moment with her for the rest of the day, and when the shift was over and done, and she’d done all she could to help the people in her care, she was left wondering what exactly Doctor Jones was hoping to ask, and when, oh when, he may try to do so again.

Post-Note: So there we have it. This was originally going to be a oneshot for my CS mixtape series, but alas, the muse wants what she wants, and this time that’s a three part mini-story for all of us to share. Hope that you guys have enjoyed so far and I would love to hear what you think! As always, thanks so much for reading, and I hope you are all staying well in this crazy time! xE

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan au #cs fic #cs #cs ff #cs fluff #cs smut #cs meet cute #captain swan meet cute #emma swan #killian jones #ruby lucas #snowing fic #the best bad idea #the best bad idea 1 #cs doctors au #cs medical au #once upon a time

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch20: Bent But Not Yet Broken

Summary: The team are still searching for Katie, but with little luck. Meanwhile, she’s at the mercy of HYDRA…until help comes from a very unlikely place.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, bad language, beatings, smut (via flashbacks), brief descriptions and mentions of rape and torture. Major angst. 18+

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: I’m loving the banner for these three chapters!! And the edits @angrybirdcr

Chapter 19

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Katie awoke alone wherever she was. They had driven her from the place she was taken for hours, right into the night, when she had been dragged out of the back of a van and shoved harshly into what looked like some kind of old factory, down a number of steps so she knew she was underground. They had offered her nothing, no food, or water and she’d simply curled up on the hard bed in the corner of the room and cried until she had fallen asleep.

She had no idea how long she had been there, no idea. There were no windows, just artificial light so she had no way of using the cycle of day and night. Eventually, the lock of the door clicked and she jumped to her feet as the door opened, and the large, burly man who reminded her of Rumlow stepped into her cell. Katie swallowed, but maintained her stance, her eyes locking onto his, jaw jutting up defiantly as he stepped towards her.

“My name is Jones, and I’m in charge of your interrogation.” he sneered.

Still she said nothing.

She was dragged to another room by this Jones, who sat in a chair opposite her with another agent, and asked what she knew about what SHIELD was up to, now it was under the control of Coulson. And then them targeting her made perfect sense, she was the only Avenger that knew he was alive (Ward had no idea she had told Steve) They informed her they knew she had to be working alongside him to track the Sceptre and HYDRA, even though she hadn’t seen him for months.

And once more, she said nothing.

If it wasn’t so serious Katie would have laughed at their stupidity. Dumb fuckers had no idea about anything. She hadn’t given the sceptre a second thought since the Chitauri fight in New York and she certainly didn’t know where it was, or that Coulson had been tracking it.

She continued to say nothing when they drilled her about what she knew as to the whereabouts of Bucky, the ‘Asset’ or ‘Soldat’ as they referred to him. At that point, she had looked directly at the idiot who had been asking the questions wondering if he was born this stupid or if he suffered some kind of brain injury later in life, because only an idiot could possibly think that if the Avengers knew where he was that they would let HYDRA get their hands on him again. Unable to hold it in anymore, she’d laughed and simply shook her head.

They stuck pins under her nails for that one, but still she hadn’t broken. Although it fucking hurt, like nothing had hurt before. She’d been unable to stop the tears of pain falling down her cheeks, but she made no noise as she trembled through the ordeal. Instead she tried to remember her training, allowing her mind to focus out, concentrate on something else, something nice. Something safe…

“Miss Stark?” JARVIS inquired again. Katie gave an exasperated sigh. Her alarm hadn’t gone off and it had been Steve that had awoken her half hour later than she wanted when his alarm went off. Now she was running, running way behind. She hadn’t even had chance to do her make up. Thankfully, at Steve’s insistence she had packed the night before. "Yes J?” “Mr. Stark has informed me that he’s begun to slowly pour out your coffee. If you don’t hurry, there won’t be any left.” She rolled her eyes, shoved her make up punch in the bag she was taking with her- plenty of time to do it on the way. The flight would be a few hours. She grabbed her bag, headed into the hallway and Steve walked out of the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. “I gotta go baby I’m sooo late.” She sighed “Tony will be having a fit.” Steve chuckled and quickly scanned her up and down.

“Nice suit.”

She glanced down at her black pinstriped jacket, trousers and a simple light blue button down.

“You making funna me?” she teased.

He shook his head “Not at all. You’re gorgeous as ever.” “Charmer.” she grinned as he leaned down to give her a quick kiss before she turned on her heels. “Love you.” She tossed over her shoulder. “You too” he smiled “See you later.”

She clung to that memory. The last time she had seen Steve. His soft kiss, his hair wet from his shower, that grey Underarmour shirt clinging to his form. And eventually when they realised that there was nothing she was going to say, they stopped and returned her to her cell leaving her alone once more.

Katie wasn’t stupid enough not to understand that there was an element of revenge in all of this too. Revenge on her, and Steve, at the fact they had been a key part of bringing Hydra to the broken, shattered organisation it now was. And as she sat there alone, nursing her sore fingers, she could do nothing but wish they had killed every, last one of the fuckers.

As time ticked by the interrogations continued. She had her fingernails dug up with pins, she was water-boarded, strangled to the point of passing out, and it was always the same. They’d push her, she’d continue to fight, and then then they would stop. They’d leave her for another stretch of time in that room, feeding her whatever meagre morsels they decided upon, deliberately weakening her system, and would come at her again.

But, the thing with being in Solitary confinement is that you have a lot of time to think. And think she did, whilst she nursed her various injuries. As such Katie had a pretty good idea now why they were so bothered about Coulson and SHIELD tracking the sceptre. There had been records of it in any of the files dumped on the internet when they had released SHIELD and HYDRA’s secrets to the world but she suspected it was in HYDRA’s possession and had been from the start, taken by Sitwell and STRIKE from the tower once they had defeated Loki. She further surmised, that it had been taken to the specialist department, STATION just like the rest of the Chitauri shit that they had recovered. Which meant that Strucker must have it. And they were worried for some reason that SHIELD were coming for it.

And then one day, they swiftly changed tact.

“All you need to do is tell me what the Avengers and SHIELD are planning next and you’ll be free to go.” Jones said, looking at her as she stood in her cell.

Katie snorted, because really? Did they think she was that stupid? She knew he was full of shit, he had no intention of releasing her. Even if she did or could cooperate, she’d be dead when they had what then needed. At least this way, whilst they thought she knew something, they would keep her alive. And the longer she was alive, the more chance the team had of finding her

Her snort earned her a sharp punch to the face which caused her to tall to the floor, where she received a harsh kick in the ribs, leaving her winded before he turned on his heels and left. Groaning, she pulled herself up over to her bed and lay on her side, wiping at the blood and tears on her face.

More time went by, and then she was pulled back out and dragged to the familiar, clinically white room they like to ‘interrogate her in’. This time they threatened to go back and find Tony, Steve, the rest of her friends and family, and kill them all. But this time she didn’t snort, she full on laughed, because the thought of them trying to get into the tower and meeting Earth’s Mightiest Heroes was hilarious. And the laughter just wouldn’t stop.

That was until she got a back hander across the face and another punch in the ribs.

But the next time they try something else, they almost break her. Almost.

They came for her in her cell and first off they took her rings. They’d already taken her necklace and her bracelet but they’d left these with her for some reason. But now, they wanted them. First off they went for the sparkling diamond on her left hand. She should just have let them have it, but she couldn’t. It’s her’s, her ‘big, fuck off Tiffany diamond’, her princess cut engagement ring that she had always dreamed of. So she tried to fight, and screamed when she felt and heard her fingers snap as Jones stamped on her hand. When they went for the emerald on her right, she was too caught up with the pain in her left to fight for that one. This time they were the ones laughing at her, laughing at her pain as she held her bust hand close and choked on deep sobs.

And then Jones did something far more humiliating and degrading and forced himself on her. She put up as good a fight as she could, considering the state her hand was in, but someone else grabbed her painful fingers and pinned her arms above her head, sniggering, calling her a “SHIELD slut…” The pain of him inside her was excruciating, but as she opened her mouth to scream at him, she looked in his face and knew that was what the bastard wanted. So instead she turned her head to the side and screwed her eyes shut. Trying to block it all out.

When he had finished his grunting and smashing into her, he passed her over to the man who had been pinning her arms above her head but by now she was emotionally dead. When he finished, she lay still for a moment before she heard footsteps and Jones crouched down besides her, holding her diamond ring between his thumb and fingers.

“You know…” He leered at her as she backed away, grabbing at her trousers and shakily pulling them up as she rose from the ground “I bet this is worth a pretty packet. You’d think that giving you a rock like that would mean he cares but where is he, huh? The Star Spangled Man doesn’t seem to have a plan at the moment.”

And then, despite the pain, despite the fact he has just violated her, she laughed again because, you know ‘Star Spangled Man with a Plan…’ and those ridiculous videos and that spandex…

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the brightest thing to do. Jones snapped and he unloaded on her, again, only this time it was savage. He lost his temper, and she would normally be slightly proud but she had no time to be as she was pushed into walls, punched, kicked, stomped on. She tried to fight back, and normally she would and could put up a decent battle against anyone, she’s an Avenger, but being weak from lack of decent food, lack of sleep, and the various injuries she’s already sustained plus the violent assault she had just taken had all left her weak. And then the other one joined in. As they punched and kicked away she could hear faint voice echoing in her ringing ears, a brush of a thumb across her cheek, the warmth of a palm against her face.

“God I love you, Doll…” Steve looks down at her as he lies over her gently, both of them slightly breathless, sheets tangled around her legs.

She staggered to her feet and then her nose was smashed by a fist. Once more she was transported to another place, a mission, from way before her and Steve started dating, one where she caught an elbow to the face by some dickhead who had taken a Diplomat’s daughter hostage…

“It’s broken,” she says, matter of factly, as her Captain’s hand gently reaches up, thumb and forefinger carefully tilting her head so he can see her face.

He gives her a pained smile. “Yeah, looks like.” whilst he gently hands her an ice pack before standing up, and dropping a hand to the top of her head.

Katie was tossed around that room like Loki was by the Hulk. Oh wouldn’t it be great if Banner appeared now, Hulked out and ripped the place apart. Or Thor, lighting all these fuckers up. Or Widow for that matter, delivering them one of those delectable shocks. Or Clint, placing arrows between their eyes. Or Tony dispatching of them with whatever weapon he chooses. Or Steve, using his shield to break their bones and faces…

But no one came.

Jones glanced down at her “This is your own fault.” His boot swiftly collided with her midriff one last time. “One way or another, I will get something out of you. Maybe you’ll speak when we take you up to see a couple of my special friends… they’re good at making people comply.”

And they left her, a bleeding, battered mess on the floor.

Eventually she mustered the strength to crawl to the bed at the side of the room, hauling herself up onto the bare mattress. - they’d taken every little bit of comfort from her including the blankets and her warmer outer clothing and shoes leaving her merely in her blouse and her trousers, both filthy and covered in blood.

Everything hurt. Everywhere. Physically and mentally. And she was tired. From lack of sleep. The lights were kept on blindingly light all the time and she was craving the darkness of her bedroom in the tower.

How long was it since she’d been in her own bed? Certainly longer than days but was it weeks? Months? One second of time simply melted into the next in this place. The sobs wracked her painful chest as she let out the first word she had spoken since she had arrived, God knows how long ago, a single gasp of his name.

“Stevie…”

******

“Errr, do you have an appointment!” Katie grinned as Steve walked into her office, shutting the door behind him.

“Do I need one?” he asked she turned round from where she had been stood looking in a filing cabinet.

“Distractions always need an appointment.” “Is that what I am?” he pouted.

“When you come in here dressed like that, yes.” she said, pointing up and down taking in his jeans and grey top “That T-shirt is ridiculously tight, and your ass looks great in those jeans.

"It’s all yours, baby.” He grinned, hands sliding to her hips as hers slid up round his neck. “Can you spare your distraction enough time for lunch?” Katie let out a groan “I can’t, I’ve got a working lunch today as we’re looking over a proposal we got in from another publishers. I could probably grab a coffee though, I got like 20 minutes.”

“20 minutes?” Steve asked, arching an eyebrow and Katie immediately grinned as his eyes dropped to her lips.

“What are you suggesting Captain Bad Ass?” “Nothing” he said, innocently. Before he smirked “Does the door lock?”

“J…” Katie spoke, not taking her eyes of his “Do me a favour and lock down my office for half an hour, full black-out.” “Certainly Miss Stark.”

The door locks clicked, the blinds into the main office area closed, and Katie looked up to check the CCTV cameras were also down too. “That doesn’t make it sound proof though, just so you know…” she said.

Steve smirked and then kissed her hard, pulling her to him, one hand on her back the other tangled in her hair before he reached down, sliding his hands up and under her skirt sliding the grey material up over her thighs.

“I’m not gonna lie…”he murmured, lifting her up onto the desk so she was sat in front of him “Seeing you in these office skirts and tops… its kinda hot.”

She smirked into his kiss as she tugged at the material of his t-shirt until he raised his arms so she could pull it up, over his head and off. She was groping his bare chest as he pressed against her, rubbing her spot with his still covered crotch. She moaned at the rough denim of his jeans pushing against her, the thin barrier of her underwear doing nothing to stop the sensation.

"Tease.” she growled into his mouth before reaching down to unbuckle his pants and Steve grinned before sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth when she reached in and grasped him in her hand. His hands started opening the buttons of her blouse then once they were open he gently reached into the cups of her bra, pulling her breasts out, dipping his head down to suck at one of her nipples, his hand drifting back downwards to tug at her underwear. She moaned and shifted so he could pull them down her legs.

As he followed them down, dropping to his knees, he took an ankle into his hand pulling her foot up.

“These stay on.” He instructed referring to her heels and she nodded biting her lip as he threw her leg over his shoulder exposing her completely. She grappled for grip on the sleek, wooden desk, settling for one hand curling round the edge, the other finding its place back in his hair as he gave one long perfect lick, listening to her soft groans. He worked her with his mouth and her head tipped back, a constant stream of soft moans escaping her lips. He drove her right to the edge, his mouth and tongue knew how to play her perfectly now, and when he could tell she was close he rose gracefully and gently pushed her back, wrapping her legs round his waist so he was supporting her hips with his, and he pushed into her in one easy thrust.

“Jesus…” he shuddered, as he bent over to gently kiss her, his hands on her hips as he continued to thrust in and out. Fuck, this was hot. Papers, pens, staplers went flying off the desk as he pushed harder and harder, his name tumbling from her lips, “Stevie…” pure pleasure and ecstasy, and lust,and desire.

“Stevie!” This time his name was a shout, filled with terror, and fear, and pain, and it vibrated through him, painfully.

With his own yell, Steve sat bolt upright, before falling off the couch with a crash. Shaking his head, taking a deep breath he blinked his tired eyes and the room in front of him came slowly into focus. His eyes fell on a picture of the two of them in a frame sitting on one of the shelves by the TV. Both of them smiling as they stood in jackets, scarves and hats in the snow in Central Park, arms round one another. There are more of them together, and with their friends and family. Tearing his eyes away he looked around and spotted the pair of her shoes that had been kicked off by the door the last time she had walked through it, some 4 weeks ago, shoes that he couldn’t bring himself to move.

How the fuck had he fallen asleep? He jumped suddenly and looks frantically around him for his phone, it was in his pocket. There could be news, someone may have called, but he knows deep down that’s not true. They had no leads, every single but of intel they had had led them to nothing but dead ends. But he looked at it anyway and saw nothing. Nothing but her eyes and her smile peering back at him from the photo on his lock screen, along with the time and date, a reminder of just how long she’s been gone.

Steve took a deep breath and when he exhaled it came out in a deep, pitiful sob.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, his breath and voice catching as he curled up, leaning back against the sofa, his arms hugging his knees to his chest “I’m sorry, so sorry sweetheart, we’re trying, I’m trying, I’m so sorry…”

******

Steve couldn’t decide if time was moving too slow or too fast. The weeks without her were flashing by his eyes but the days and the nights felt like they lasted forever. He couldn’t understand how it was only 3 in the afternoon, mind you, having said that, the days and nights all blurred into one. He wasn’t sleeping properly after all. His nightmares were frequent, only now it wasn’t the ice or Bucky he saw. It was her, crying, screaming for help and him not being able to do anything about it.

Pouring himself what felt like his 17th coffee of the day he turned to see Sam walking into the room. Steve nodded to him.

“Cap, I know this isn’t top of your priority list but…” Sam turned to check they were alone before he carried on “I had a call today from one of my contacts. They have a potential sighing of Ol’ Frosty.” Despite himself Steve picks up, interested “Where.”

“Canadian Border, Montana. Mean anything?”

Steve shook his head “Is there a Hydra base nearby?”

“Not that we know of. I can take a look?” Steve nodded. “Thanks Sam.”

Sam took a deep breath. The man looked utterly broken, but he wasn’t surprised. Katie had been gone for 5 weeks and they had nothing. They were now taking a deep dive into old intel, the information they had recovered from the bases they had raided and re-raided. She wasn’t at any of them, but then they hadn’t expected her to be. Hydra were too smart for that

The pair of them wheeled round when suddenly Clint appeared in the door way “Cap… Coulson is here, says he has news.”

“Thanks.” Steve said,

Oh he had news alright. The location of another Hydra base that no one knew about, one they had dug up on the seemingly never ending search for that fucking sceptre. It was a small military outpost just outside of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. Coulson had dispatched a team to do some recon, and they had spoken to locals who had informed them that the base had been empty with no one seen or heard entering for years.

“Until 5 weeks ago.” Coulson said, looking around at them from his seat at the table “According to a man out walking his dog, an SUV came straight down the road and into the gates, locking them behind him. A load of men in suits climbed out, so he assumed they were government. Since then Mr Dog Walker has seen armed guards on the gate each day. So they brought something there, we just don’t know what,“

“5 weeks…” Natasha breathed out “That’s too much of a coincidence!”

“Yeah, so I had my team sweep the base immediately…” Coulson sighed, as he looked around the room “There was no one there, but they did find evidence that Katie was there at some point.”

Steve turned his head away and stood up sharply, walking to the edge of the room, looking out into the hallway.

“What kind of evidence?” Tony asked, his voice cracking.

Coulson hesitated before he pushed the plastic bag across the table and Steve walked back as Tony tipped the contents out onto the table.

Her StarkPhone, in 2 pieces, clearly done to avoid them tracing her, the Captain America shield design that Tony had engraved on the back for a joke blinked in the light like it was mocking them. Her diamond star pendant that Steve bought her for Christmas and the bracelet he had brought her for her birthday, clasps broken on both as if they had been ripped off. But it was the flash of yellow, green and silver and diamond that made Steve’s heart stop. Her rings. Bright platinum and yellow gold. Sparkling diamond, deep green emerald.

There’s no way she would have given those up without a fight…

Tony pushed himself away from the table, a sob catching in his throat whilst Steve reached out to gently pick up his girl’s rings. He could hardly make them out now, the tears in his own eyes blurred his vision. He closed his palm around them, and walked out of the room, but not before he gave a loud, angry yet broken cry and his fist punched straight through the re-enforced glass in one of the windows that looked out into the corridor.

He headed up to the roof, he’d been coming here a lot recently. Good way to get some peace, away from everything. Except he was never away, because she was with him, in his head, every damned movement he made. He glanced across the skyline, his eyes falling on Central Park. The leaves on some of the trees already a bright mixture of reds, golds and oranges. Fall was his favourite time of year, he loved the colours. It was an artist’s dream. Not Katie’s though. Oh no.

“She hates this time of year.” Steve said simply as he looked out over the New York Skyline, not turning to look at Tony as he drew up beside him.

“Everything dies and it’s a bit shit.” Tony mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets as he uttered the words Katie uses to describe Autumn. Steve knew what he was saying, but the pair of them couldn’t help but inhale at the sentiments of the word.

"Sorry… “ Tony sighed, “I just…” he trailed off, shrugging.

Steve shrugged also as he turned to look at the man besides him, lips curling into a despondent sort of smile. “I know…”

The two men stood in silence before a short, despairing chuckle burst from Steve . “You know, this time last year she made a pie,” he shook his head “I was teasing her about being miserable it was Autumn and she said the only thing decent about it is you can make apple pie. And I told her she was ridiculous, as surely apple pie can be made any time of year…” “That’s my mom” Tony said, smiling and he gave a small huff of laughter “Mom always used to make pies autumn through winter but never any other time of year…”

“I didn’t even wait for it to cool.” Steve chuckled. “As soon as it came out of the oven there was a scoop of ice cream on it and I was digging in. She stabbed me with a fork”

Tony snorted “Sounds about right.”

“It was the best fucking apple pie I’ve eaten.” Steve sniffed. “Damned it..” his voice cracked “ I’d give anything to have her here to make another…”

Tony glanced up at the soldier, the tears evident in his eyes.

“Katie told me she thinks you’re the strongest person she’s ever known,” he breathed out. “Learning to live and start again in a world that has continually done nothing but beat you down… “

“I don’t feel strong now.” Steve whispered, turning to face Tony.

“You have to be.” Tony said “We all do, that’s the only way we’re gonna find her.” Even in the dim light, through his own tears, Tony could see the grief on Steve’s face. There was utter desperation and sadness in his blue eyes, the tears now shining as they fell down his cheeks. The Captain released a long, shuddering breath before wiping at his face stating simply, “I don’t know how to be strong without her Tony.”

“She makes me better too.” Tony said, his own eyes now spilling with tears, “And for that reason alone we have to find her. And we have to bring her home.” his eyes turn back to the city which is now starting to light up as the sun begins to dips behind the horizon “And then she can make a damned pie.”

*****

He parked the truck at the end of the long drive, hiding it between two trees and then climbed out, the smells, the sounds of the wind, everything was familiar, but it was clear, sharp, as if he wasn’t experiencing it all through a veil of fog.

This was the last place on his list. He had by no way, shape or form eliminated everyone that had been involved in his programming, but he’d taken the main ones he remembered. And there was one left. A Doctor. A Doctor that had been sadistic. A Doctor that had been sadistic and enjoyed what he did, experimenting on him, on others. He wasn’t sure if he had been the type of person to seek revenge before they had done this to him and he didn’t really care either, and besides, it wasn’t just revenge…it was closure. After this one was dead, that was it. He was going to lay low, try and make sense of these whirring memories that came back to him in a jumble. Sometimes he could make sense of them, and some of them were stronger than others, like the ones of him in the war. He could remember the missions mainly. And then some of them from before were hazier, a short, skinny, sickly blond haired boy. Punk…

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He knew the boy was Steve. Captain America leader of the Commandos. He remembered Steve but he didn’t feel that he knew him. But he understood that he should, the display at the Smithsonian had told him that.

Best friends since childhood.

The longer he stayed out of Hydra’s grasp the more his mind was his own, and it was only a matter of time, he hoped, till he did remember. But until then, he needed to slip away. Be a ghost story once more.

One more…

Picking the gun up off the passenger seat he zipped up his jacket and made his way towards the facility, making sure he kept to the cover of the expanse of forest and open green space that surrounded it. Of course it would be in the fuck end of nowhere. No one to hear the screams. He easily dispatched the guards at the gate, and the 4 that then rush out to greet him are no match for him. That’s one upside to this entire situation, he can fight. And fight better than he ever could

“Pick on someone your own size…” He swiftly boots the guy right up the ass and down the alley.

“You know, sometimes I think you like getting punched.” He turns to the small, blonde man standing up, dusting himself off.

“I had him on the ropes.” By the time he made his way inside he can hear the alarm going, and he smirked to himself slightly. Like it matters. Anyone who tried to stop him was dealt with, anyone who simply ran away, well he wasn’t here for them. They could go. He navigated the clinical corridor easily, by memory or instinct he doesn’t know but he eventually found the room. Something stopped him for a second, and a rush of vivid and loud memories flashed in front of his eyes.

“Soldat!” the voice is loud, almost a bark. “Hold out your arm.” He holds out his metal arm.

“The other one.” He does as he is told, and grits his teeth as the scalpel slices into him and they cut a chunk of his flesh away.

“Take that to my lab.” the voice says “I want to run some tests on his healing qualities, isolate the properties…keep him here, I can study his recover too…” With blood dripping down his arm, they take him back to his room, his cell at the other end of the facility, without even giving him a bandage.

With a low growl he kicked the door open and the man in the chair looked up at him, his eyes growing wide in fear.

“Soldat-”

The Doctor was cut off when a large boot kicked him hard in the chest, causing him to topple over backwards, the chair crashing to the floor. In one stride he was over him, gun levelled at his head.

“My name is Bucky.” He stated simply before he discharged his gun straight between the fucker’s eyes.

It’s done. It’s finished.

Turning on his heels he walked out of the room and aimed a punch to the man that launched at him from the right, sending him down easily. He then saw the flash of a gun as it went off, easily dodging the shot. He turned and fired one of his own, straight into the bastard’s knee cap and he collapsed. His path was now clear and he was about to leave, but then he heard it.

A jumbled scream of names, but it was the tone that set his nerves on edge. It was broken, the scream of someone desperate, someone that wasn’t here of their own accord. It was heart-wrenching, pitiful…and it was female

Automatically he spun and headed towards it.

*****

Katie had no idea when she last ate, it was certainly before they moved her here to this new place anyway. She didn’t trust them not to poison her, so at some point she stopped eating completely. She still refused to talk, and seeing as she knew they wanted her to scream, to shout in pain, to verify that what they are doing to her hurt, she also learned to stop crying out.

They wanted her to break. They continued to violate her, seemingly visiting her to get their fill whenever the ‘mood’ took them, but she held tight, tight to her memories, thoughts, trust in her fiancé, brother, her Avengers family to find her, tight to her desperate hope, and above all else, tight to that Stark pig-headed stubbornness.

She will NOT break. She will not give these fuckers anything. And if that means she dies, so be it.

As she lay on her bed, weak, her stomach churning from the bruises and hunger, there was a shrill noise in her ears, probably from the beating she took yesterday, but the more she tried to focus, the louder it became. And then she heard voices, yells.

The sound of gunfire made her sit up, fast, a little too fast and she cried out in pain as her body protested to the movement, but now she understood, the shrill noise was an alarm.

“He’s in the main lab…” She heard someone yelling.

And then Jones’ voice replied, he was getting closer as he spoke, she could tell “I’ll get the bitch, we need to move”.

Someone was here, and whoever it was wasn’t Hydra. And Katie let out a sob. It was them, it had to be, they’d come for her.

The door to her cell flung open and Jones ran in to grab her arm.

“Time to go…” As he grabbed her arm and dragged her off the bed she screamed. As loud as she could. She screamed for Steve, then Tony, then Thor, Natasha, Clint…her voice cracking and croaky from lack of use, yelling the first words she’d spoken in his presence since they’d taken her.

She wasn’t staying quiet this time, not now rescue was so close by.

“Oh, now you talk…” Jones gave her a quick slap which left her dazed but, as he dragged her to the door he stopped dead halfway across the room. Katie looked up, struggling to focus and she could just make out a tall figure, blocking the way. For a moment she thought it was Steve, but then she realised he wasn’t tall enough. And the way he held himself was all wrong. Then she noticed his hair, and as he strode into the cell, murderous intent oozing from every part of his body, her eyes started to focus and she saw his face from under the peak of his cap, that haunted stare she remembered from the riverbank.

“Bucky.” Her voice was nothing but a whisper.

Bucky tilted his head, surveying her, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, his eyes moved to Jones, and they suddenly lit with a furious fire and he stepped forward again.

Jones pushed Katie hard towards him. She fell again, and Bucky gently caught her, setting her quickly to one side as he grabbed Jones who was making a break for it towards the door. He gripped the man in his metal left arm, which was covered by a black leather jacket and glove, round the throat and squeezed, hard. The man’s bones and sinew and tissue crunched and squashed in his grip and he fell limp.

I don’t like men hitting women, you fucker.

Bucky tossed Jones to the floor and Katie tried to push herself up from where she had fallen with her hands, but it hurt so much. Her broken one gave way and she lurched forward, bracing herself for the impact as she was about to fall flat on her face but the blow never came. Instead, a strong arm wrapped around her from behind and she was gently pulled back into a sitting position, as she fought to keep her sobs and cries under control. She looked up, following Bucky’s movement as he crouched down in front of her. She looked up at him, and managed a small smile.

“Thank you Bucky.”

Bucky swallowed, she knew him? How? How did she know who he really was? He continued to look into her eyes, green and dull, sunken into a face that is spattered with bruises, died blood, cuts and angry red marks and then he recognised her, from that day on the river bank.

The day he dragged Captain America, Steve, out of the Potomac.

“I’m Katie. Steve’s Girlfriend. You know Steve, right?”

What Hydra were doing with Steve’s girlfriend in this god-forsaken shithole he had no idea. But he also knew that he couldn’t leave her here.

“Can you stand?” He asked softly.

“I don’t know…” she choked out, her voice croaky. He decided it would be easier, and kinder to carry her. Removing his jacket and placing it round her shoulders, because it was cold outside and all she was wearing was a dirty blouse and trousers, no shoes or socks. He gently placed his metal arm round her back and his right under her knees, lifting her effortlessly up into his arms. She let out a small sob and a cry of pain as the movement jostled her slightly.

“Sorry.” He appologised gruffly, as she placed her arms round his neck for support and leaned into his warmth, the first kind and friendly touch she had felt in so damned long. Instinctively, she buried her face into his chest as he carried her, unable to believe that she was finally safe.

It wasn’t Steve, but at the moment she would have taken anyone.

Quickly Bucky made his way back through the base, up a short flight of stairs she had absolutely no recollection of coming down when she was brought here, and they emerged into the fresh air. The wind hit her face and stung her cheeks and she pressed her face harder into his chest, whimpering at the assault on her senses. Eventually, when she felt she had gotten control of herself she gently moved, ignoring the pain, to have a look around. The leaves on the trees around them were now sporting orange leaves, some having shed a few already.

It had been the 1st of September when she had been taken.

“Do you know the date?” she throatily asked as Bucky carried her gently but quickly towards a truck which was parked haphazardly in between 3 of the trees in a clearing set back from the road. How fucking long had they had her?

“10th October.” he replied

She gave another little sob as she did the maths in her head “6 weeks. 6 fucking weeks.”

“Try 70 years sweetheart” Bucky mumbled back, and his sarcasm made her snort a little laugh, and she instantly winced at the pain in her chest.

He gently helped her into the truck, laying her across her across the back seats, before he jumped in the driver’s side and gave a quick look around before he set off.

Katie pulled the jacket tighter around her and gave another loud sob, then the tears started, and she couldn’t stop.

“You’re safe.” Bucky cast a glance over his shoulder. “I won’t hurt you.” “I know.” He looked at her again, as she lay down, before she started to cough. Tilting onto her side, she tried to stop herself as it was painful, fire shooting across her stomach, up her side, her ribs…her hand…everything.

“You need a hospital.” he said.

“No.” she shook her head

“You need medical attention”

“I can…”she took a deep breath, fighting the pain “Home. I’ll be safer with Steve and my brother.” Steve. Bucky swallowed thickly. “Where’s home?” he asked.

“Manhattan.” “I can’t go to Manhattan” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes you can.” she grimaced “Steve…he’ll help.” “I can’t go to Manhattan” he repeated. She didn’t respond and when he glanced back he saw she’d passed out, or was sleeping, he doesn’t know. He took a deep breath and for a split second toyed with ignoring her request and driving her to the nearest ER, but he understood her fear only too well. If Hydra took her, there’s a chance they’ll come back for her and she was right. Steve could keep her safe.

So he drove into the nearest Police Station, parked the truck outside leaving the engine and the heaters running, to keep her warm and with his baseball cap pulled as far down over his face, grabbed his rucksack. He hid behind a dumpster, not far away, keeping the car in sight. It didn’t take long until someone came out of the police station and walked over to the vehicle to investigate. Bucky saw the man peer inside before he gave a yell, and yanked open the back door. Bucky took a deep breath, and with one last look over his shoulder he headed off into the cold October wind.

******

“Miss…” a voice was stirring Katie. It was a soft voice, not the harsh one she was used to dealing with. And she was warm, she could smell leather. A bit like Steve’s jacket, but not, because it didn’t smell like him. Blinking she saw someone leaning over her and she instinctively tried to back up, but she hit something metal. Taking a moment she realised she was in a car. And then she remembered Bucky. Bucky had killed Jones and freed her.

“Where…” she began and the large man spoke softly

“You’re in La Ronge…at the local police station.” he said, gently.

She glanced up, wary. “How do I know you’re not Hydra…” “Hydra?” he frowned and she took in his appearance. He was in a uniform, and he was flanked by other officers in a uniform.

“We’ve called an ambulance…” he began. “No!” She immediately yelled. “I need to go home…” “Ma’am…” “No. Hospital.” she growled, trying to sit up. “It isn’t safe. I need…” she took a deep breath “Can you call home, my fiancé, my brother, anyone…” “Where’s home ma’am.” “Avengers Tower.” she said, taking a deep breath. The man’s eyes grew wide as he looked at her, “You’re…oh my God, you’re Katie Stark…”

She nodded.

He leaned back out to one of the other officers and said something before leaning back into the car.

“There’s been a lot of people looking for you Miss Stark.” he said kindly “We’ll get someone on to your Brother right away. In the mean-time, we need to get you inside.”

She nodded and pushed herself up, gritting her teeth, trying to fight how much pain she was in. With a bit of a struggle and help she managed to shuffle herself out of the car. She steadied herself against it, whilst the officer looked at her and then gently moved towards her. Instinctively she shrunk back and he held his hands up.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I just thought you might need a hand walking.”

She did need a hand. After scrutinizing him for another second, she nodded and he gently scooped her up, causing her to hiss, and he took her inside. She was gently carried through the back of the station and into a warm, gently lit medical room of some sorts where she was set down on a soft medical bench.

“No hospital” she said again, feeling her eyes going droopy again.

“I promise.” the man nodded. “But we do have an on duty medic…maybe she could clean you up a little, and we can find you some clothes.” That sounded ok, and she nodded again, before the blackness took her once more

******

Steve couldn’t run. Not properly. He needed to be in the tower just in case. Not to mention the barrage of press camped on the doorstep since he had relented and told Tony to go public a few days back. And he hated the treadmill, seemed pointless, if he was running he actually wanted to get somewhere. So instead he took his frustration out on the punch bag. Every blow he landed was one for the fuckers that had taken his girl. He lost count of how many of the things he tore open but thankfully there seemed to be an endless supply, and someone to clear up the mess he left afterwards. Including the blood on the floor from his split knuckle as he had stopped bandaging his hands. The pain was twistedly comforting, something to actually feel when the rest of him was numb. "Trouble sleeping?”

He turned and saw her leaning in the doorway, wearing a pair of tight lycra leggings and a crop top that finished halfway down her perfect midriff and a cheeky grin as she took a drag from the water bottle in her hand.

He gave a laugh, as he caught the punch bag.

“At half 4 in the afternoon?” He quipped back as she crossed the room towards him. He noticed her skin was gleaming with sweat “you been training?”

“Sparring with Nat… she was an absolute bitch” Katie said, taking a drink from her water bottle “she needs to get laid then she might stop taking it out on me.”

“Or maybe you need to learn to punch better” he teased.

“Can you get divorced before you get married?” she said through narrowed eyes making him laugh. “I can punch just fine thanks”

“Show me whatcha got then” he nodded towards the punch bag. Taking another drink from her bottle she tossed it aside and shoved him in the chest, making him laugh again, stepping back as she passed. He watched as she took up her stance, feet slightly apart, arms raised, and she gave the bag a sharp jab with her right and it swung back away from her.

“Not bad…” he grinned, moving towards her. ”But if you tilt your hips…“ his hands fell to her waist and he moved her slightly "this way… legs slightly further…” he used his feet to nudge hers “this way and arms…” both his hands wrapped round her wrists, the light catching her ring on her left hand “little less high…” he used his arms to guide hers and swung and the bag sending it flying.

She dropped her arms and brought them around her front, taking his with them. “Admit it…” she said, her voice husky “my stance was fine you just wanted to touch me.”

“You have a very high opinion of yourself, or a very low opinion of me.” He said, his body stooping so his chin rest in her shoulder.

“No, I just know you too well Captain Sex Fiend…” she said, turning her head to face him, her lips brushing his.

He’d pushed her backwards, and took her hard and fast against the wooden clad walls of the gym, bodies slick and working together the way they always did. Her hands were in his hair, clawing at his back and it had left them both far more flushed than any other physical exercise ever did…. With one final punch as the memory faded Steve gave a cry of anger, frustration, grief, he had no idea what he was feeling, maybe all 3, but he knocked the damn thing straight off the chain anyway. “Captain Rogers…” JARVIS suddenly spoke. “Yeah.” He responded, his voice croaky from unshed tears. “Mr Stark has asked that you meet him immediately in the hanger. There has been a development regarding Miss Stark” Steve didn’t respond, he grabbed his dark, red hoody and sprinted out of the door.

“She’s been found.” Tony said, wheeling round to look at him as he ran up the ramp to the jet, not waiting for him to speak. “In the back of a stolen car that was abandoned outside a station in La Ronge.“

“Is she…” he choked out, and Tony gave a small smile and a sniff.

“She’s alive. But she’s not in great shape, and she’s refusing to go to hospital, told them to call us instead.”

Steve’s hands flying up to cover his face and they slid into his hair as he dropped into the seat behind Tony, the relief washing all over his body. Tony began to flip the switches, firing up the jet, at the same time as Bruce walked on board.

“We got something?” He looked at the two men.

“Yeah..” Tony said “Some police station in La Ronge called. They have her, but she’s…she’s not in a good way so we need…” He gestured to Bruce and pointed to one of the seats.

Bruce let out a deep breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “That’s great…that’s she’s been found…”

“Jarvis, you got that flight plan?” Tony asked.

“Yes Sir, you are expected at the air field, some 15 miles from the station. The Sergeant who called will meet you there. ETA 3pm”

Tony turned to Steve as the jet began to rise, the soldier was looking down at his hands, breathing deeply. He was a jumble of emotions, relief she was ok, worried about what state she was in, angry at who had done this to her. He was jerked out of his thoughts by Tony who gently clamped him on the shoulder.

Blue eyes met dark brown, both shimmering with tears. “Let’s go get our girl” Tony smiled softly.

**** Chapter 21

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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janeofcakes · 3 years

Text

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again Chapter 3

Hello, my friends! It’s been a busy weekend and I’m more than a little sunburned (grrrrr), but here it is! The next chapter is ready and waiting for you all. I hope you enjoy it and had a great weekend!

---

The next two Saturdays come and go with Olive and Gracie no closer to getting their fathers to meet. The one following their first would have been perfect, but Sherlock had a case on that did not finish as timely as he had hoped. Mrs. Hudson was out of town with Mrs. Turner, so he called in his own babysitter. She and John had a pleasant enough conversation on the park bench from what little Gracie and Olive overheard. It didn’t really matter that John had been told Sherlock’s name was William because Annie had always called him that anyway. From what Olive understood, it was an attempt to protect both Sherlock and Annie’s privacy. She could reference him as her employer with ease while avoiding the inevitable ‘Yes, Sherlock Holmes. Yes, he does have a child.’ conversation. It was also better that Sherlock not advertise the fact.

Olive and Gracie’s anticipation of the following Saturday grew with John’s answer to the playdate at Olive’s flat question. He had said it would likely be fine, but he needed to meet Olive’s parents first. When Saturday came, John was called away on an emergency and Candace took Gracie to the park AGAIN. After the two girls pouted a bit, they cooked up a scheme wherein Candace gave her impression of Sherlock to John so they could move things along. The girls thought this would suffice, but John still insisted upon meeting ‘Will’ himself. Gracie tried to argue that he trusts Candace and should just go along with it. She had a good, long strop on Sunday when he refused.

Gracie’s class sits together in the smaller of the school’s two gymnasiums when they arrive individually before the day begins. Every class has its place so each can rise and file to its room when the bell rings. Olive and Gracie love beginning the day this way because they have a chance to talk before having to sit quietly for lessons. It makes it much easier to pay attention. This particular Monday morning, however, is not going to plan.

Gracie glances up to the clock on the wall impatiently and begins to worry. Olive is not in the gym yet and it is not like her. Sherlock always has her to school at exactly eight minutes before the bell rings and it is now five minutes to the bell. Gracie lowers her eyes again and bites her lip. She knows her concern is ridiculous at this stage. It’s probably just traffic or something, but her protective side won’t let it drop. Could Olive and her father have gotten caught up in a case somehow? Gracie furrows her brow as she considers what that might mean when a pair of red shoes comes into view. She lets her eyes focus on them a moment before lifting them to see a girl from one of the other grade three classes standing before her nervously.

“Hi, Grace,” she says quietly. Her name is Julia and she usually keeps to herself, but Olive has built up a report with her. She says Julia sees and knows everything and is really nice, just a bit shy. Knowing this, Gracie is surprised she has left her own class group to come over to Gracie’s and talk.

“Hi,” Gracie mutters and then adds, thinking it the most likely reason for Julia’s visit, “Olive isn’t here yet.”

“I know. I just wanted to tell you,” Julia casts a slow side glance to her right and then back to Gracie, whose curious eyes follow the other girl’s. “Jones is planning something for lunch today. I’m not sure what, but she wants to embarrass you. She’s still mad about that punch on your first day.”

“Oh,” Gracie replies, not knowing why she expected anything less. Jones hadn’t said word one to them since that day and Olive kept saying it was only a matter of time. “Thanks. I’ll watch out for that.”

“We all loved it, you know,” Julia carries on swiftly. “Jones has been a pain in everyone’s side forever. She deserved it.”

Julia glances away again and takes a step back. Her brown eyes are intense when she returns them to Gracie’s and she angles her head closer.

“We’re all with you in this,” she almost whispers. “We’ll help anytime you need it.”

“Thanks,” Gracie doesn’t try to stop the small smile on her face. “I’ll remember that.”

Julia nods once and hurries back to her class’s spot. Gracie watches her go, feeling a bit lighter than she did before. She doesn’t know who is encompassed in the word ‘we’ at this moment, but it must be more than just grade three, right?. She had gotten quite a lot of attention from the other kids after the punch. More had greeted her afterwards or thrown a smile her way. Gracie wouldn’t say they all wanted to be friends or anything, just that they knew of her and liked what they knew. Very different from her old school where she was virtually unknown outside of her own grade.

Gracie thinks back on the friends she left behind in Bath and resolves to zoom with them soon. Turning her head to check the clock again, she nearly jumps out of her skin when Olive plops down right in front of her. The brunette is breathless, obviously having walked as fast as possible through the school halls to get here. Gracie cocks a brow and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Where the heck have you been?” she nearly scolds, secretly eyeing her friend for any signs of injury. “The bell’s about to ring.”

“Pfft,” Olive makes a dismissive sound and waves a hand. “We still have two minutes.”

“Well, where were you?” Gracie fidgets, feeling a little exposed, but wanting to say this nonetheless. “I was kind of worried. Like maybe you ended up on a case or something.”

“Oh, no. Dad never takes me on cases,” Olive tells her in a very serious tone. “Well, only once when he absolutely had to and only because he knew there was no danger.”

Gracie releases the lip she’s been chewing on and lets the tension drain from her body. Seeing her friend relax, Olive smiles and lightens her tone.

“Dad did get a call for a case though and Mrs. Hudson had to bring me in. She’s never as fast as dad is,” Olive’s whole face lights up then and she hops up to sit on her knees for a change of subject. Gracie knows what it is too. It’s the reason she has waited for her friend so anxiously. “So did you ask him? What did he say? Whaddid he say?”

“He still needs to meet your dad first,” Gracie sighs with disappointment.

“What?” Olive blurts indignantly. “But he trusts Candace’s judgement.”

“That’s what I said, but he says he still has to meet your parents before I can go to your flat,” Gracie huffs. “It’s like he thinks he can tell they aren’t axe murderers with just one look.”

“You can, you know,” Olive replies suddenly in a calmer voice.

“What?”

“Tell someone isn’t an axe murderer with one look,” Olive sounds very pleased with herself for knowing this bit of information.

“What are you on about?” Gracie shakes her head. “That’s not even important right now.”

“No. You’re right,” Olive concedes. She touched a finger to her lips to think and then groans loudly, her voice dripping with annoyance. “We have to make sure they meet this weekend. I’ll tell Uncle Greg not to even call Dad if I have to.”

“I’ll do what I can too, but there’s no way I can stop another emergency,” Gracie grumbles and wrinkles her nose.

“Any chance of a baby again?” Olive asks, trying to plan for any contingency.

“I don’t think so,” Gracie shrugs. “Dad usually tells me to be ready when it’s something he can anticipate.”

“Hm. Then we’ll just have to hope for a slow weekend,” Olive mumbles, touching a finger to her lips again.

“Right,” Gracie agrees, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “Something interesting happened right before you got here.”

The bell rings and teachers begin to call out instructions as Olive opens her mouth to respond. The two girls rise with their classmates, Gracie shouldering her backpack. Their line starts moving almost right away. Olive puts a hand on Gracie’s shoulder and leans in, the shorter girl turning her head to hear better.

“You can tell me at lunch,” Olives says, “and we can decide what to do on our first playdate.”

Gracie grins and agrees as they walk into the hall to their classroom.

***

“And then I’ll show you our latest experiment,” Olive had started listing the things she and Gracie would do on their first playdate the moment they walked into the lunch room. Olive puts a spoon full of yogurt into her mouth triumphantly.

“What are you working on now?” Gracie asks, snapping off a piece of her carrot and chewing. Her face is bright and open. Thinking about her first time in Olive’s flat is her most fun pastime these days. She has even dreamt about it: what she pictures it to look like and what they will do. It is the most excited she has been about something in a while. She was excited to move to London and start in a new school. Of course she was, but this has none of the uncertainty or anxiety those did. It is all pure anticipation and Olive feels it too, which makes it all the harder to wait until their fathers meet.

“The effects of cola on raw meat,” Olive answers Gracie’s question while dipping her spoon for more yogurt.

“What?” Gracie frowns and cocks a brow. “Why?”

“You don’t want to know,” Olive eyes the mound of yogurt on her spoon. “We’ve also added other stuff, like poisons and things to see if it makes any difference as far as how quickly the meat deteriorates or absorbs the poison. It’s for a homicide case.”

“What’s homicide?” Gracie asks curiously.

“Murder,” Olive whispers and closes her mouth smoothly around the spoon.

“Wow,” Gracie looks at her with wide eyes, carrot still in hand.

“I can’t guarantee we’ll still be doing it by the time we have our playdate though,” Olive tells her almost regretfully, holding the spoon to her lower lip. “There’s no way it could last two weeks. Dad never takes that long to solve a case.”

“That’s okay. It sounds kind of gross anyway,” Gracie pops the carrot into her mouth and grabs another. “What else could we do?”

“I want to show you my room. That’ll be the best part,” Olive declares, shifting from side to side in her seat eagerly. “It’s the upstairs bedroom. The only room upstairs.”

“Oh my god. Your flat has an upstairs?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide. “Ours have always been all on one floor.”

“Sometimes I pretend it’s a castle on top of a huge mountain and I have to climb it to search for prisoners or treasure or villains,” Olive is waving her spoon around now, gesturing enthusiastically.

“That sounds brilliant!” Gracie bubbles. “We could climb it together.”

“And, and!” Olive gasps, grabbing Gracie’s wrist and holding perfectly still. Gracie freezes too, but nearly vibrates with the anticipation of what she will say. “You can bring Pandy and we’ll save her and Wellies.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s perfect!” Gracie shoves a carrot in her mouth. “I can’t wait.”

“We have to get our dads to meet this Saturday,” Olive says emphatically, nearly in a whine as the bell rings. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Around them, Miss Chapel begins rounding everyone up. Olive and Gracie both shove what’s left of their lunches into their bags and hurry to stand.

“Hey, wait. We forgot. What were you going to tell me?” Olive asks, pushing her chair in.

“What?” Gracie replies, not sure what she means.

“From this morning,” Olive answers as Gracie picks up her bag and milk carton. “I got so excited about our playdate, I forgot to ask.”

“Oh, that,” Gracie starts toward the door, but her foot catches on something and she falls flat on the floor. Throwing her arms out to catch herself, she drops her lunch bag and milk carton and then lands right on them. Both smash flat, the half full carton soaking the front of her uniform.

“Gracie, are you okay?” Olive darts around the table to help, but Gracie is already getting to her knees.

“I’m fine,” Gracie mutters, looking down at herself and grumbling. Olive follows Gracie’s legs to find the sources of her fall and her eyes settle on a black size six. She knows who it is without even looking, but raises her angry gaze nonetheless and rests it on the smug face of Samantha Jones.

“Your friend had best watch where she’s going, Holmes,” Jones sneers, her two lackeys grinning behind her. “She could get hurt.”

“You’re a coward, Jones,” Olive scowls. “She faced you straight on and bested you, and now you hide in the corner waiting to catch her off-guard.”

“Olive,” Gracie cautions, standing next to the taller girl now.

“You watch yourself, Holmes,” Jones steps up close and stares Olive down. “Your pet won’t be with you all the time and that’s when I’ll find you.”

“Girls,” Miss Chapel calls sternly from behind Olive and Gracie, “what are you doing? Did you not hear the bell?”

“Just coming, Miss Chapel,” Jones replies pleasantly, side-stepping the two younger girls while staring at them menacingly. “Wouldn’t want to be late to class.”

After the three grade sixers are gone, Olive takes Gracie’s lunch bag and goes to class while Miss Chapel helps Gracie clean up a bit in the loo. She isn’t too worried about missing anything. Olive will fill her in on the lesson later. What Gracie has on her mind now is how to get back at Samantha Jones and really put her in her place so she doesn’t bully anyone in the school again. If anyone can do it, it’s Gracie Watson and Olive Holmes.

***

“Just the two of you against the world then, eh?” John chuckles as he drops Gracie’s soiled uniform into the washer with some other laundry and closes the lid.

“The world of bullies, yeah,” Gracie answers as if there is no way it could be questioned. “You should see her, Dad. She pushes everyone around and steals the good stuff from their lunches as a ‘protection fee’.”

John flips the dial on the machine to start the cycle and turns to his daughter with a both bemused and amused expression. She wears a look of determination that only furthers his pleasure. Gracie looks nothing less than adorable. Her brow is furrowed, her eyes deadly serious and her mouth purse into half its usual size. With a hand on one hip and her other arm wrapped around Pandy, she stands strong with her feet planted on the floor. The smiling panda t-shirt, her favorite one, looks up at him with friendly eyes that contrast with his daughter’s.

“Protection fee?” John laughs because he just can’t help himself at this point. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“That’s what Olive calls it,” she informs him in a tone that is all business. “Jones says she won’t bother them if they give her the treats from their lunches and they do it because they’re scared of her. She’s mean and you say I should stand up against bullies.”

“True, but…” John cuts in, seeing where this is going and not sure it’s the best course of action for Gracie to take.

“You don’t want me to stand back and let her bully little kids,” Gracie continues. “Kids in my class, even the ones who are younger than us. Why shouldn’t I stop her if I can?”

“Gracie…” John begins again, gathering his thoughts quickly.

“I thought you’d get it,” Gracie’s voice is insistent, but has a touch of pleading as well, and even some disappointment. “You fought in a war.”

“This is hardly war, Gracie,” John says a bit more sternly than he meant to . She snaps her mouth shut in a thin frown and the furrow of her brow deepens. She tilts her chin down and looks up at him with frustrated eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and pressing Pandy against her body. John sighs and squats down before her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Gracie, I’m just trying to look out for you,” he tells her in a soft tone of concern. “I love that you want to help the other kids and don’t want to back down from a fight. I couldn’t be more proud.”

Gracie takes a deep breath through her nose, shoulders straightening and her chest puffing out. The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly.

“You’ve only been at the school for a few weeks,” John carries on carefully. “I don’t want kids that could have been friends to steer clear of you because they think you like trouble, or will get them in trouble.”

“Seriously?” Gracie questions, obviously finding the idea unbelievably stupid. “They seem to like me more because I stood up to Jones in the lunchroom. Like Julia said.”

“Oh, right,” John lifts his chin and raises his eyes briefly as he remembers. “The informant.”

“She knows everything,” Gracie lowers her voice and glances to her left before leaning in conspiratorially. “She lays low and hears all kinds of things. Olive can always go to her if she has questions about stuff that’s going on.”

“Just like Billy,” John mutters to himself with a quiet laugh.

“Who?” Gracie asks, looking a little confused.

“Nothing, sweet pea. Someone from another life,” John deftly pushes away his past. “I’m your dad. It’s my job to help you any way I can to be a good person and get on with other kids, or with schoolwork and whatever, yeah? I’m a lot older and have done a lot of things. It’s called experience.”

“Okay,” Gracie says slowly like she is beginning to see his point. She watches him thoughtfully.

“Sometimes people just think you’ll be the next bully when you stand up to one,” John explains. “You have to be careful kids don’t get the wrong impression and assume they should avoid you too.”

“I don’t think that would happen,” Gracie shakes her head. “Not with Olive on my side and Julia talking to everybody.”

“Well, good,” John straightens his legs to stand. “I’m glad you have such good and supportive friends.”

Gracie follows him as he walks to the kitchen to check the lasagna baking in the oven. It smells delicious and is one of their favorite dinners.

“Did you and your best friend help people?” Gracie asks curiously, lagging behind a little to stay away from the heat of the open oven door.

“Oh, yes,” John replies without even thinking as he lifts the aluminum foil from the casserole pan to look at the bubbling cheese. “Every case we solved helped people and even saved lives. It was an amazing time.”

“You solved cases?” Gracie asks after a brief pause. John’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said and he hurriedly grabs for the oven mitts on the counter.

“Medical cases, sweetie,” John pulls the lasagna from the oven and moves across the counter. “Will you close the door, please?”

Gracie pushes the oven door shut and steps to the counter next to John. She picks up the first plate and hands it to him when he turns to retrieve it.

“Thank you,” he says warmly, taking it and dishing up the lasagna, some vegetables he had kept warm and a bit of salad. He tries not to look at Gracie for too long as he hands her the plate and she passes him an empty one. After all these years it is still too easy to read his expressions and he knows his daughter will know immediately that he’s hoping his lame explanation will suffice. John does, however, have to get it together before he sits down to eat with Gracie or he will spend the rest of the night telling her how the beloved characters in her bedtime stories are real and one of them is her own father. Will she feel betrayed? Like he has kept a huge part of himself from her? Do eight year olds even understand that concept? Gracie is fairly mature and advanced in her thinking, but enough to feel wronged or just to think her dad has this cool, secret past?

Finished filling his own plate, John schools his features as he turns to the table to see Gracie watching him expectantly. She has not only gotten the glass of milk he poured for her from the fridge, but his ice water as well. As he moves to sit opposite her, John wonders just how long it took him to dish up his own food. Gracie doesn’t look the least bit suspicious though, which is definitely a good sign. John really doesn’t want to spend the night dwelling on his former best friend. He has patently tried not to do just that since the day he agreed to take over the practice.

“Daddy?” Gracie’s voice interrupts his thoughts. John looks across the table to see her staring at him with a very deliberate expression as she chews. “You have to come to the park this Saturday and meet Olive’s dad. We’ve already planned what we’re going to do on our first playdate and it’s going to be amazing.”

“I’m sure you have,” John almost sighs in relief, picking up his glass for a drink. “You both love your master plans.”

“I’m not kidding, Dad,” Gracie says plainly. “This is very important.”

“Well, I don’t anticipate any emergencies, so it should be fine,” John answers. He replaces his water glass and scoops some lasagna onto his fork. “You’ll get to have a playdate soon enough.”

***

After dinner and the washing up, John and Gracie play a few card games until bedtime. Gracie beats him twice at Old Maid and once at Go-Fish, but John wins both games of Gin. John picks up and puts away the last deck of cards while Gracie brushes her teeth. He makes himself a cup of tea while she runs to her room to change into pajamas.

When John appears in her doorway, cup in hand, Gracie is lying down with the covers pulled up to her shoulders. He walks in, sets the tea on the bedside table and grabs the chair from her desk. Pulling it up to her bed, he sits and grabs his mug again.

“So,” John sips the tea, “what would you like tonight? Another chapter of the old Nancy Drew you and Olive are reading?”

“Actually…” Gracie’s tone is slightly higher than usual. A clear indication that she is going to ask for something she thinks he will say no to. “I was hoping for a Sam and Dean story. One you haven’t told me before.”

“Just how many of those stories do you think there are?” John asks good-naturedly after a quick bark of laughter.

“Hundreds!” Gracie answers with a sparkle in her eyes that John can never resist. He looks down at her with a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t say that,” John tells her, “but I do still have some you don’t know.”

One leaps to mind. Why, John doesn’t know, but it is suddenly the only one he can think of. It isn’t a pleasant memory, but is certainly a case that pulled him and Sherlock closer together.

“I was going to save this one for when you’re older,” John pauses to wet his lips as Gracie’s eyes go wide.

“Please, Daddy, please,” she throws the covers off her arms, sits up and grabs the arm that doesn’t have a mug of tea at the end. “I’m old enough, please.”

John studies her for a moment and then sets down his tea.

“All right, all right,” he puts his hands on her shoulders, “but lie down. This is bedtime after all.”

“Yes!” Gracie declares in triumph and lays back quickly. John pulls the covers up to her chin and begins to tell her the story about pips, hostages, explosions and Moriarty, who he calls Chuck instead. Gracie listens with rapt attention, only really getting nervous when they were staring at that damn painting and the voice on the phone was a child. John has not told anyone, or even thought of this case, for over ten years and a feeling like exhaustion settles over him as he reaches the pool.

“The door opened and Dean walked in wearing a thick parka,” John says as Gracie gasps in horror. Her eyes are wide with shock, her mouth drops open.

“Oh my god, it was Dean?” she whispers, scarcely able to say the words. John’s heart sinks when she makes the same assumption Sherlock did, but rebounds when she quickly takes it back. “No. No, it can’t be Dean. He would never do that.”

“Right you are,” John commends her. “Dean pulled open the coat to reveal a waistcoat of explosives.”

Gracie lets out a huge gasp, her hands shooting from under the covers and over her mouth.

“No! What did he do? How did Sam save him?” Gracie demands in a hushed voice, unwilling to take her eyes off John for even a moment.

“Dean couldn’t say or do anything but what Chuck told him and Sam… He didn’t know what to do,” John shakes his head, remembering Sherlock’s face. He had been so frightened and vulnerable for that split-second before he schooled his expression, but John had seen it all. Unfortunately, so had Moriarty. John flinches as the words echo through his mind for the first time in years.

I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.

I have been reliably informed I don’t have one.

We both know that’s not quite true.

“All of a sudden, Chuck appeared and started telling Sam how he needed to give up, let him carry on with his plans,” John continues, trying not to see Sherlock’s face and hear the words again.

Gracie’s eyes are glued to John as he tells her how he had grabbed Moriarty and told Sherlock to go, but that he wouldn’t leave. John had known there was no way out when he saw those damn red dots on Sherlock’s forehead and throat. He had released Moriarty and swallowed hard in resignation, but then the little devil had left. Gracie breathes a sigh of relief when the semtex came off and then screeches quietly, full of fear again when Moriarty returned.

“Sam looked Dean in the eye and it was all Dean needed to know what he was thinking.” John’s voice is hushed, the only sound in the room. “He was going to shoot the bomb and cause an explosion.”

“Oh my god, no!” Gracie mutters, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching Pandy to her chest tightly. “He can’t.”

“It would’ve killed the two of them, but would also put an end to Chuck’s plans,” John says, trying to keep his tone even as the past floods back to him. It wouldn’t have stopped Moriarty. If they had survived somehow, he still would have ruined Sherlock’s reputation, threatened the three people most important to him and forced him to jump. You owe me a fall. Moriarty would have gone to any lengths to see that happen and must have had the pieces in place even then. God, how that man had fucked up their lives.

“What happened?” Gracie’s voice, thick with anticipation and dread, breaks John free from his thoughts. His gaze comes into focus again and he looks at his daughter for a moment before finding his voice.

“His phone rang,” he says simply.

“What?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide, her whole face rife with disbelief. John allows himself a small smile.

“Someone gave him another way to end the detective and make him useful in the process,” John says grimly. “So he just left. So did his henchmen, but Sam and Dean knew he would be back.”

“Wow,” Gracie breathes in utter amazement. “What an ending. I can’t believe he got away. Did he come after Sam and Dean again?”

“Unfortunately,” John gives her a shallow nod, knowing he cannot tell her that story anytime soon. Maybe never.

“Oh my gosh,” Gracie mutters. “When? How? Did they get away? Do they beat him?”

“Oh, no,” John shakes his head. “You get one story and that one was much longer than it should have been.”

“What? Dad!” Gracie cries, disappointment coloring her face and tone.

“You know the rules, Gracie,” John tells her firmly. “It’s late enough already. You need to sleep.”

“Fine,” Gracie grumbles after studying him long enough to see there is no hope of John changing his mind. She snuggles Pandy close to her cheek as John bends down to kiss her head.

“Good night, sweet pea,” John says into her hair and then sits up again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gracie replies, already looking sleepy. John stands and replaces the chair by the desk. He turns off the lamp on the bedside table as he picks up his mug, leaving only the dim night light to illuminate the room.

“Good night,” John whispers. Gracie’s eyes are closed and she does not open them. John slips from the room and heads for the kitchen. It’s still fairly early, but John will only think of Sherlock if he stays awake. Even crap telly or a book will not distract him at this point.

John sighs and sets the mug in the sink. He goes to his bedroom and into the ensuite, cleans his teeth and readies for bed. Once his pajamas are on and he is staring at the ceiling in the dark, John allows his mind to unveil that portrait of Sherlock he keeps so tightly covered and looks at it for a long time. Being in London again and not even that far from Baker Street, John has resolutely kept the man from his thoughts and will not entertain the idea of going anywhere near his former flat, even just to see if Sherlock is still there. When John left with Mary, there were too many things left unsaid. It is too late to say them now.

John turns on his side with a sad sigh, closes his eyes and pulls the curtain over Sherlock’s ever-changing eyes once again.

---

There you are! Complete with a vision of creepy Moriarty and the pool. Incidentally, I have a great idea for a one shot involving the pool and what follows that strays wildly from canon (infamous eyebrow waggle). Hopefully I can start on it soon. In the meantime, feel free to let me know what you think about chapter 3 or teasers or any ideas that might be running through your heads. Have a great week, my friends, and thank you so much for your support and love. Makes my heart glow. Jane

@johnlock-rocks

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock loves john #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #sherlock fanfic #John loves Sherlock

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kettle-on · 3 years

Text

This one did not go as well as I hoped, but then I always think that when I'm about to post a chapter.

If I knew how to write it, there could be optional smut at the end of this one, but I have zero confidence (or imagination) when it comes to that, so apologies but no, there's none here.

You'll just hafta make it up yourselves

(Still, this chapter does have one of my favourite little bits so far!)

attn: @jessm78 @coincidence-ithinknots-blog

Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

“There’s something almost kingly about waking up alone,” declared John Cleese as he and Eric made their way to the morning room to start the day’s work. They had both set out early, Eric having slept quite poorly, perched atop his typewriter, and John unusually well-rested.

“The peace and privacy and space,” he continued, “Yes, I think it sets one up rather well for the day.”

“If you say so,” Eric abided with a small smile.

Before recently, Eric’s preference was to fall asleep with a girl beside him and by the time he’d wake up in the morning, she would be long gone. Thus went the final years of his previous marriage, rocky and uncommitted – his “asshole years” as he’d come to refer to them. As all things tend to do, marriage seemed like the right idea at the time, but the seductive adventure of fame was more than Eric had bargained for.

“How are things with you and Connie, anyway?” he asked his now strutting friend.

In fact, none of the visitors had seen any sign of John’s wife Connie Booth for months. The two had never been particularly candid about their relationship, but other than seeing her on the television in late-night repeats of Fawlty Towers (of which plans for a second series were now rumoured), she remained mostly unseen.

“I’m not going to talk about it,” said John with finality.

“Oh come on, John.”

“No. I’m not going to,” he repeated, stroking his mustache.

“Not even to advise your old pal?”

They had reached their destined room, and John set to work immediately rearranging the cushions on the sofas and armchairs.

“Eric, you’ve just spent Christmas in the West Indies with a beautiful woman. You don’t need my advice.”

“I just don’t want to mess up again,” Eric confessed heavily, plopping his curled copy of the script onto an end table. “All the shit from before. Is it really worth going through that again?”

“Why? God! Don’t tell me you’re marrying Lyn again,”

“No! No, obviously I mean Y/N.”

“And? She’s a very nice girl, so what’s the problem now?”

Eric was baffled, and searched his hands for an answer.

“Eric, every relationship is a new start,” John began, suddenly soulful. “Every marriage is a new set of conditions and variables. You know that. Y/N comes with entirely different features and functions, and even you - you’re different to what you were before. You’ll be different every time. Except for some things, of course. You’ll always be an ugly, greedy bastard with a smart mouth and no sense of occasion.”

“Cheers,”

“But you’ve come a long way - I’ll say that for you. Anyway, what does Y/N have to say?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”

Raising his eyebrows and lowering his chin, John gave Eric his famously unimpressed face, “Well that’s your first problem. I can’t imagine what’s stopping you.”

“Can’t you?” asked Eric, looking up from under his fringe.

Against the wishes of the house staff, lunch was taken later in the day (“teatime” as Terry Jones insisted) on a folding picnic table on one of the many lawn areas around the lot. With the addition of a cotton table cloth and wooden bench seating, Mr. Brown the butler couldn’t refrain from voicing his distaste. Eric and Michael doubled up with charm to convince him to leave it be.

“See how nice it looks with the rhododendrons all around us!” Michael demonstrated.

“Yes, and you needn’t worry about the table cloth; I’ve pulled it off the bed,” added Eric in jest before abandoning Mr. Brown altogether, and they strutted arm-in-arm across the grass to join the others at the table.

Their camaraderie extended even as far as the last piece of fresh olive bread left in the basket. Sat side by side, Eric and Michael were mirror images, their arms reaching into the basket in the middle of the table, when their knuckles collided.

“Oh! Sorry - ”

“Sorry - ”

“You have it.”

“No no, please. Take it.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s yours.”

“Well, only if you don’t want it.”

“I do want it, but only if you’d rather not.”

“Oh, you have it then.”

“Don’t you want it?”

“Yes, but you - ”

They were cut short by Terry Gilliam’s arm of God reaching between them, grabbing the piece of bread, and aggressively gobbling it up.

Afternoon chat was considerably more relaxed and domestic than evening party topics. At this time of day, rockstars and millionaires turned into normal people who were content to discuss the shapes of teabags, and revisit childhood moments of blowing on a blade of grass between their thumbs to make it whistle.

Y/N felt most at ease here. She shifted slightly and propped her feet up on the bench opposite, next to Eric’s side, the table cloth gently covering her toes. Before long, she felt the familiar comfort of fingers around her ankles. Eric was always dutiful to show he was never out of reach.

He was already looking at her when she raised her gaze to him, and his smile grew. From time to time, they’d share a moment like this one - at home in each other’s eyes, unspoken declarations of attraction, of love and affection.

“What are you trying to send that’s costing you 8 dollars?” Eric’s voice cut their silent exchange as he cordially re-entered the table conversation.

Terry Jones seemed to be unsure as to how shocked he ought to be at a recent postal charge.

“Why not just hang on to it and take it back with you – it’s only another ten days,” suggested Eric.

“Well I’m hoping I’ll manage to forget about it, and it’ll be great surprise when I get home,” Terry just about managed to explain before his conviction crumbled into resigned chuckles.

Before long, plates emptied and glasses were refilled from water jugs and wine bottles. Across the table, Eric and Y/N’s eyes met again, exchanging a look of “let’s go be alone somewhere.”

Laying a small paper down on the table, Eric began to manufacture an expertly rolled spliff, and only then did Y/N notice… both of his hands were occupied, and yet her ankle was still being stroked. Shifting her eyes, she caught sight of Michael, peering over his glass at her with impatient eyes, his other hand out of sight. Noticing he’d been found out at last, he lifted his head in exaggerated confusion, darting around and attempting to look elsewhere. Despite herself, Y/N stifled a giggle.

“Coming?” Eric asked softly with a smile as he rose from the bench, and Y/N quickly withdrew her now tingling ankles.

The grounds at Heron Bay included paths perfect for meandering afternoon strolls without straying very far from the main house. This afternoon, Eric and Y/N chose the garden route, passing a tidy swimming pool, and over a small bridge toward the far end of the beach. Clasping hands, their arms swung gently between them as they walked.

“I wonder if I’ve taken enough photos of this place yet.” said Y/N when they stepped off of the bridge. “I don’t ever want to forget how beautiful it is, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to remember all the details.”

“We can always come back, you know,” said Eric. “I wouldn’t pass up another few weeks.

“What about you?” he asked and gently pulled her toward him, wrapping an arm around her back as if they were to start dancing. “Are you having a wonderful time?”

“Wonderful!” replied Y/N with a wide smile.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm!”

“You sure?”

His tone was not doubtful, but the slight furrowing of his gentle eyebrows showed concern. But what was he getting at? Was she not convincing?

“Well I… I guess I’m not really used to being away from home for so long. Especially not somewhere with table service, and a tennis court, and dinner with The Rolling Stones. It’s, um… it’s a lot. But it’s wonderful!”

They continued their stroll along the beach hand-in-hand as before. The mood was once again slow and easy and peaceful, though Eric seemed ever so slightly more pensive – a typical development when “partaking in grass,” as he liked to describe it.

“Have you been talking to Michael?” he asked suddenly.

“Michael?” Y/N repeated.

“He’s great with this sort of thing.”

What sort of thing? she wanted to ask. She still felt uneasy asking Eric to repeat himself or clarify something, as if querying him was proof that they were somehow not in sync like he believed they were. But hadn’t they just had a moment of silent connection earlier?

Stupid, silly girl. She smartened up. Just speak. But just as she opened her mouth, Eric spoke again.

“So have you fallen in love with him yet?”

“What?” Y/N was breathless.

“Everyone falls in love with Mike Palin at some point,” he explained with one of his cheekier smiles.

“I uh...” she faltered, whether from the suggestion or from Eric’s grin, she wasn’t sure. “I don’t think so, no.”

Eric took a long pull on his gradually disappearing joint and nodded.

“Give it time,” he said with confidence. “You’ll see.”

They soon came across a small secluded bower, lightly shaded by swaying trees that dotted the coastline. Here they would pause for a while, away from disturbance, with only the ocean to meet them.

Y/N sat between Eric’s long legs, his arms at either side of her, resting on his knees. She leaned back into his warm chest and he kissed her ear. It seemed like a long time since they had last been alone together – work on the film script had taken over the day time, and famous visitors kept their nights busy and bustling. Y/N pondered the photos she had already taken, and how even the best ones couldn’t capture this current bliss: the warmth of the sun and the ground, the waves hushing in the near distance, the earthy and fiery smell from Eric’s quality cannabis, and his long and loving limbs around her.

After several minutes of comforting silence, Eric spoke:

“So,” he blew out quickly, “what do you think about getting married?”

Y/N turned on her spot to look at him, feeling her heartbeat quicken.

“I think you’re a little too stoned to be proposing right now.”

“I don’t mea-…” he began, cutting himself off with laughter. “I’m not proposing, I just wanted to know your thoughts on it. I guess Ricky and Penny got me thinking, and… and I was just… thinking.”

Y/N kept a focus on him. He wasn’t used to stumbling over words, but now… what was she going to say?

“And I’m not stoned,” he managed to get out through breathy nervous laughter.

“Well, I think…” Y/N turned her gaze to the surrounding trees, and tried to consider her words carefully.

“I think a lot of people these days do it for the wrong reasons, or they think they have to. I look around and see so many marriages falling apart that it kind of takes the romance out of it.”

Eric gave another few nods as he took a final drag.

“If I get married,” said Y/N, “I’m going to have to really want to stay together, y’know? And not just give up when something gets tough. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“Well, there’s money,” suggested Eric sarcastically, and he stubbed out the remains of his joint on a nearby rock.

“Money…” Y/N repeated. She slowly turned to face him again.

“Yeah, marry for money, and then split with a nice settlement.”

“What a great idea,” she said, meeting his hazy expression.

“You think so?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, and her lips hovered above his. “Sounds sleazy. I like it.”

“Yeah, it suits you.”

They kissed slowly, with no rush or anticipation. Herbal sweetness lingered on Eric’s lips, and Y/N delighted in their soft encouragement.

“Hmm. So, how much money you got?” she asked with pretend seriousness, back to playing the game after their make out.

“Well…” he began. He spoke slowly but animated. “I’ve got… ninety-thousand pounds… in my pyjamas.”

“Oh yeah?” She knew where this was going.

“And I’ve got forty thousand French francs in my fridge…”

“Oh no,” she groaned and dropped her head onto his bony chest. Eric was infamous for bursting into song, particularly ones he was quite proud of having performed for Python.

“There is nothing quite as wonderful as money -,” he began the silly song, bouncing his knees and shoulders as he sang, and snaking his arms around her waist.

“Fuck off, you capitalist!” Y/N protested, though she couldn’t help her laughter.

She was only just able to silence him with kisses, but their shared laughter continued as they lay on the soft ground, rolled over together, and made themselves more comfortable for an afternoon romp.

#it's been pouring with cold rain here for weeks #so this fic is really becoming an escape for me #barbados fic #monty python fanfic #eric x michael x reader #eric idle fanfic #michael palin fanfic #jenny's writing

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misssophiachase · 3 years

Note

Sequel for how to save a life please

Sorry for the delay nonnie. You got it, here goes...For anyone who didn’t read part 1 you can catch it on AO3 HERE - Let me know what you think.

In the last part Caroline showed up hungover for her first day as a surgical intern only to discover her drinking buddy and one-night-stand is none other than her attending and famed neurosurgeon, Dr Klaus Mikaelson.

Original Synopsis from nonnie’s prompt: Caroline as Meredith Grey and Klaus as Derek Shepherd.

How to Save a Life - part 2

Monday 6am

“I’m going to kill him,” she growled, holding her syringe precariously so it looked like she was cocking a firearm instead.

It had been a twenty-eight hour shift so far and she decided to blame it on that if they decided to report her for malpractice or for ‘accidentally’ killing an attending.

“Easy, tiger,” Kol offered, lowering her arm in the process. “I’m only an intern but maybe we should be conserving the life saving drugs for the actual patients. You know, just a thought.”

“Cute,” she drawled by way of response. Caroline wasn’t hungover this time, which was definitely a bonus, but it didn’t stop Doctor know-it-all from sharing his opinion more than a few times throughout her never-ending shift.

“No Dr Forbes, not that way Dr Forbes, listen carefully Dr Forbes,” he’d chide, except he sounded so sexy and authoritative when he called her Dr Forbes. And that was every shift, not just this one. If he didn’t have such a pretty face, she’d most likely slap him, even if it was frowned upon in the workplace.

“Trust me, I’ve been in your position too many times to count and letting him get to you is not the way to handle things,” Kol broke into her Klaus Mikaelson trance, which was probably a good thing.

But then his words caught her attention. Too many times to count? It was only day nine. What exactly had Kol done to earn his wrath in that short amount of time?

Caroline looked at him curiously, besides his first name she didn’t know much about her fellow intern, except the fact he liked to talk a lot when most people weren’t interested in hearing what he had to say. He’d also taken an instant liking to Bonnie which definitely hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Who are you?”

“Just your friendly, fellow intern who has impeccable hygiene,” he offered, sending her his most dazzling smile. “And while we’re on the topic.”

“Of you having impeccable hygiene?”

“Yes,” he answered. Caroline, meanwhile, still had no idea where this was going. She consulted her watch to hurry him up given she knew how much he liked to talk. “I understand you have a room for rent and I happen to be looking for a place to stay.”

Obviously word of her mom’s large house had made the rounds. Yes, she’d been looking for a third roommate but didn’t expect it to be Kol. Given both Bonnie and Kat were living in her upstairs bedrooms, Caroline wasn’t so sure it was a good idea.

“Kol, now’s not the best time...”

“I can pay you three months of rent in advance and my share of the utilities?”

Now, that proposal caught her attention. Caroline needed money and fast. But at the same time who was this guy? And why did he have so much money to spare? Most of them were struggling to get by given the hefty school loans they had to repay.

Which brought her back to his proposal and how much she needed it. She’d just have to explain to Kat and Bonnie that she had no choice and surely they’d understand her dilemma. Well, hopefully.

“Okay, fine,” she relented. “But we’ll do it on a trial basis. Four weeks and, if that hygiene isn’t anything short of spectacular I’ll be kicking you out much sooner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he saluted. Caroline figured most responsible people would interview someone and at least get one reference but she was far too distracted by the attending to focus on proper process.

As if on cue, Enzo was already bellowing at them from down the hall to get their asses into gear. Caroline wondered just what the patients must think of the spectacle.

“Hang on, what’s your last name?” She asked, thinking she should probably know that if they were going to be living together, but he was already making his way dutifully towards the sound of the dictator’s voice.

She’d get to the bottom of that once her shift was over. As well as drinking a much-needed glass of wine or six, her memories of that recent hangover after doing the nasty with the overbearing attending well and truly forgotten.

Until next time, of course.

“Nice of you to join us, Forbes,” he barked. “Dr Mikaelson has requested you join him at MRI.”

“Me?”

“I don’t think anyone else goes by that name, Forbes,” he growled, emphasising her surname for added effect.

“Maybe someone else could..” she could see Bonnie and Kat trying to silence her with their eyes. She wouldn’t hear the end of this after their shift.

“If you don’t get up there right now I’ll send you to do that enema. Remember Mrs Jones from last night? You know the patient that hasn’t...” Caroline didn’t need to be told twice given just what she’d have her hands elbow deep in.

“Took your time, Dr Forbes. I’m just glad this wasn’t an emergency.” He hadn’t even turned his head and was too busy consulting the on-screen images.

Rather than trying to explain herself and the fact she’d run from the ground floor ER to MRI in record time she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. Professionalism and all that, even if he was an ass.

She made her way by his side, trying to ignore just how good he smelled from this close proximity. It was a problem she’d experienced too many times to count.

“What do you see?” He asked, finally turning to look at her.

She was momentarily caught off guard given the way those navy scrubs brought out his eyes. Caroline closed her eyes briefly reminding herself that this was too important. This was work and he was her superior. Nothing else.

If only memories of their night together weren’t still so vivid and causing places to stir that really shouldn’t be stirring right now. Caroline was pretty certain if her mother was looking down on her right now she’d be extremely disappointed.

But she needed to concentrate for the patient’s sake.

“There seems to be a tumour in the left hemisphere of the cerebrum,” she noted, pointing to the screen.

“Can you tell if it is cancerous or benign?” She looked at it again closely wondering if he saw something she hadn’t, he was the neurosurgeon after all. It was too easy to second guess herself but Caroline knew she needed to own her diagnoses.

“I can’t tell from the scan.” She really hoped that was the right answer, especially given she’d been awake over 32 hours straight.

“So, based on that diagnosis, what is the required course of action, Dr Forbes?”

“Biopsy surgery.”

“And what does that entail?”

“Obtaining brain tissue samples to diagnose whether the tumour is cancerous or benign.”

“Good work, Dr Forbes,” he murmured. “I want you to scrub into the surgery.” Caroline looked at him incredulously. Trying to figure out if he had a motive but at the same time really hoping he didn’t.

“You deserve this,” he murmured kindly. Not like everything she’d experienced so far in his presence. “As much as I like to give you a hard time on the floor, you are a quick learner and you work hard. But, not gonna lie, that attitude needs some work.”

“Okay,” she replied quietly thinking the attitude was probably sexual frustration but didn’t want to share that with him. “But I fully expect you to tell me when I’m not doing a good job. I happen to be a lot more resilient than you think I am.”

“And that’s why I like you.”

Caroline decided she needed to leave the room quickly before she said or did something she might regret. Like throw her arms around him or kiss him. She was still learning how to deal with a superior she’d done the nasty with after all.

“I’ll see you in surgery,” she offered, walking out of the room, not bothering to respond or look back. She decided it was safer that way.

9 hours later...

“My butt cheeks have gone to sleep,” Kat groaned, her head hitting the bar. “I was tasked with just watching someone and that shit hurts, let me tell you.”

“Consider yourself lucky, Pierce, have you monetarily lost your hearing due to the wailings from the patient in 3A?” Kol shot back, tipping back a whiskey for his trouble.

“No, I was too busy trying to pretend I was professional during that x-ray of someone sticking random things up his, well you know what,” Bonnie shared, albeit quietly.

“You do realise you’re a surgeon and a doctor so anatomy is not a dirty subject...”

“Call it a professional courtesy,” she huffed.

“I think Bon Bon here is definitely in the wrong career, just saying.”

“If I needed your opinion Kol, I’d ask for it,” she growled.

“For the love of god, Kol,” Caroline groaned, swirling the red wine in her glass and trying not to fall into its hypnotic tendencies. “I’m barely alive here.”

“Says the girl who scrubbed into surgery today.”

This is what Caroline was worried about, the fact her friends would think it was blatant favouritism. She didn’t sign up for that. At least they didn’t about what happened with Dr Mikaelson and for that she was grateful.

“Yeah with Dr McYummy”

“Who?”

“It’s what all the nurses call him,” Kat shared. “I really think it could take off hospital-wide.”

Caroline wasn’t sure if she wanted it to and weirdly Kol seemed freaked out at the prospect too given his outraged expression.

“Or it could be one of those things that you accidentally blurt out during surgery. Like ‘here’s the scalpel, Dr McYummy’ and that’s just asking for trouble and a demotion for being unprofessional.”

Trust Bonnie to see the sense in it all.

“I’m with you Bonnie,” Kol offered. “Better we don’t equate any names with any of the attendings.” Seems like the two most expected to disagree had finally agreed on something. Hopefully that would soften the blow when Caroline decided to reveal they were all rooming together.

Caroline was still trying to get her head around everything she’d done the past ten hours, glad that she had a day off before her next shift to properly focus. And to finally get some sleep. Until it happened.

“Kol!” She looked up towards the sound.

“There goes my reputation,” her fellow intern muttered.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Caroline was trying to reconcile the intrusion in her half asleep state. But when Klaus approached their table she knew things were unfolding and not in a good way.

“And you wonder why I was so glad to move in with you,” Kol whispered before their attending appeared in all his glory. Something she wasn’t expecting and was trying to .

“So, you two know each other?” She asked, probably against her better judgment.

“Siblings,” Kol offered gingerly.

“And you two?” Klaus asked, his expression telling her he was trying not to show his jealously but killing his brother wouldn’t be out of the question.

“We live together.”

If this was supposed to feel awkward then it really did now.

#klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #klaroline #how to save a life #misssophiachase

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imagineofallkindsxxx · 3 years

Text

Eternal Flame- Kol Mikaelson 3/?

Chapter 1- You're the Hybrid?

Summary: Singing. Thats all what Alexandra Gilbert has cared about since she was young and all she would care about until she met him.

With Alexandra fighting vampires, werewolves an all between she may do a thing she vowed never to do, fall in love.

And to think it all started with a walk in the woods...

The room was pitch black I could barely see what's in front of me my fingers getting clipped and cut on the item in my hands. Finally, it was fixed but then the worst thing happened. The door opened.

The room was filled with light from the lights on the ceiling of the room and all of the hard work we created was useless now with all the neatly placed mouse traps springing open making me question the reason of everything. I looked up and saw an alarmed looking Matt Donovan making me feel even more depressed, wondering what I ever did to deserve this.

"Oh come on! Seriously?!? Do you know how long this took for us to set all this up?!?" Caroline yelled at the blonde footballer essentially expressing my thoughts out loud.

"Forgot about senior prank night?" Tyler Lockwood asked his best friend.

"Clearly." he replied seeming confused by the whole ordeal that has been tradition since well ever.

"How could you forget We've only been waiting for this since freshman year!" Caroline once again yelled and not gonna lie I agree with her until last year all of us had been dying for us to prank the teachers following the footsteps of those before us trying to outdo them.

"Yeah, Matt if I'm doing this, you're doing this" Elena chipped in

"Doing what? Having fun what a travesty" I sassed rolling my eyes at my sister "Lord give me strength." I whispered so no one but Caroline would hear me throwing me a glare where I just shrugged innocently. I mean it's not my fault that Elena became boring when dumb and dumber came along.

"I'm surprised any of you are doing this" Matt said, what are we supposed to do just stand around and worry about what might happen? Feel guilty about the deaths we've caused? If we do that, we'll miss college.

"Caroline's making us." Bonnie piped up

"Not making me. To be perfectly honest I'm enjoying myself" I shrug attempting to fix a mouse trap not making eye contact with anyone but still managing to make Caroline to smile at me.

"We're about to be seniors. These are memories that will stay with us forever, and if we don't..." she trailed off still trying to be positive compared to the rest of us.

"And if we don't create memories now, then what's the point of it all?" My sister finished for her best friend making Caroline deflate at the tone of her voice making me feel like snapping at her again but for sake of Caroline I decided to focus on her more than my annoyance or Elena.

"Go ahead make fun, I don't care" She replied, obviously lying to us, hurt how the majority of her friends are making fun of an idea to get all of our mind of the supernatural by doing normal things a teen would enjoy. I wasn't the only one seeing how upset Caroline was with her boyfriend saying.

"You're all lame. And I've got ten more classes to prank." I decided to pitch in after he announced his leave.

"Yeah, I'm meeting my boys in the chem lab, we're 'doing something awesome to Jones' according to Jamie anyway" a small smirk on my face "See you losers later" winking at Caroline.

When out of the class I headed along the hall to get to the class seeing Tyler giving some students instructions "Seems like Caroline's rubbing off on you Ty" a small smile on my face, instead of verbally responding he just rolled his eyes playfully continuing to give instructions.

I kept on wondering down the dark and quiet hallway feeling creeped out. All of a sudden I heard a slamming of a door making me feel more aware of my surroundings ready to run in case of any well unusual people out there

"Who's there?" I shouted out on instinct before realising what a stupid move that was. Well done Alex if they didn't know you were here they do now my subconscious reminded me, I slowly walked towards the noise until I heard from behind me.

"Boo!" I turned around and punched whoever it was on instinct "Fucking hell Andie!" the mysterious 'creature' yelled making me realise it was just Mark then hearing laughter behind him making me see he isn't alone but thing one and two were here as well.

"Jesus Andie remind me never to get in a fight with you" Sam managed out before James saying "Yeah next boxing match I'm putting my money on you"

I give them an unimpressed look "oh you mean all 10 cent you know seeing as though the last time you bet you lost 100 dollars" casting up how he bet on the Dolphins winning the super bowl losing 100 dollars in the process. "And you. carry on way you're acting and we'll be getting in a fight quite soon" I told James.

"Not a word." was all I said to Mark knowing a sarcastic comment was coming causing him roll his eyes. "Right gents what class are we supposed to be pranking?" before following a still grinning James to the chemistry lab belonging to Mr Jones' the hatred between him and Jamie running deep with the detentions and destruction in the past 3 years.

"Of course it would be Jones. Your obsession with each other is genuinely unhealthy." Sam remarked with an eye roll.

"Gotta agree with Sammy on that Jame" Mark seconded with me making a noise of agreement while looking through the bag he brought with him finding confetti, superglue, a large cut out of about 8 feet cut out of the periodic table and purple paint?

"Yeah well, I could say same for you and Kayleigh Jackson." referring to the rivalry between Kayleigh a kind blonde braniac who was on the cheer squad and honestly the only girl in this school I would trust with my life. Her and Sam had a rivalry which stemmed from how Kayleigh fought over a red crayon with him in kindergarten ever since they fight over the most stupid things, from what colour nitrogen mixed with sulphuric acid to whose cake was better in home economics, honestly, it's just became a way of life.

"Right before we start fighting about whose rivalry is worse let's get on with the prank?" I suggested with the back up from my blue-eyed best friend.

"So, you want to superglue the periodic table coloured in purple his least favourite colour" I started before Sam butted in

"How do you know his least favourite colour exactly?"

"I have my ways you have yours" Jesus this is hard work but I tried to continue "Then rig up this contraption when he opens his door tomorrow, he'll have confetti fallen on him?"

"and superglue" he added

I stared at him for a few seconds before saying "Sounds good. I'll get started on the confetti and super glue"

We all joked and tried our best to prank Mr Jones to the best of our ability and not just because of the hated between a certain drummer and the teacher himself. After we did that, we walked to the next class Mr Curtis our favourite music teacher but before we could begin, we were interrupted by Harry from my political studies class coming in and telling all of us

"Hate to break it guys but we've been busted, teacher saw us pranking the gym hall." he told us with a sympathetic smile. once he told us this, we all groaned and complained

"That's shit"

"You're joking!"

"No. That aint right."

"Jesus Christ. Why is god against me?"

"Don't shoot the messenger guys." Harry replied with his hand up in surrender walking out of the class.

Mark sighed "Well this is shit."

"I know fucking hate this" James agreed shaking his head. I swear I saw a tear in his brown eye.

"What can we do gents? We're caught. Just think of Mr Jones face tomorrow that's all you have to think about to get through the day" I told them trying to show them a silver lining to this horrible end of a great night.

"Yeah, doesn't make it any better." The drummer moaned "Do any of you need a ride?"

"Yeah, that'd be great"

"Yes, please my man" the two other males answered the brunette.

"Can't sorry boys, have to go home with my sister. Sorry" I declined

"Good luck, Alex" Mark said somewhat making it sound sarcastic making me throw a pencil at him as he raced out the classroom.

"See ya tomorrow my girl"

"Adios gorgeous" the other two more sensible- at that moment- boys said. I waved them good bye before we walked out of the class going in opposite directions with them heading out to the parking lot and me like an idiot going through all the school looking for my sister. Texting her asking where she was.

"She better not have left me" I muttered before opening the doors to enter the Gym hall.

"Alex! get out of here!" was all I heard looking up from my phone seeing an unusual scene in front of me to say the least. An empty hall with the exception of my sister, chad from Miss Golds class and Dana the girl who co-organised the whole prank night with Caroline and a man in his 20's? next to Elena seeming to be talking to her.

For once it looked like my sister had the right so I turned and bolted towards the doors only to be stopped by the same man that was conversing with the doppelganger.

""Now, now love. Who may you be?" He said in a nice posh British accent looking into my eyes therefore me being able to understand I'm being compelled.

"Someone on vervain." I snarked back "Try an eat me and it'll be like drinking acid, or so I've been told." I told him acting innocent at the old. he rolls his eyes as though expecting the sarcasm. Stefan must have told him everything about the entirety of the school.

This dick of a vampire gripped my am tightly and threw me onto the ground.

"Jesus be a bit gentler. Love." adding a bit more English mannerisms sarcastically where he just smirked back. Asshole.

"Alex! Are you okay?" My sister asks worried for my safety. I looked around my surroundings once more seeing Dana keeping her leg up wobbling every now and kind of like she's being controlled.

"Been better, been worse." I replied to my sister getting up "What's wrong with Dana and Chad?" I asked the brunette doppelganger; she opened her mouth but before she could reply the mysterious and freak of a vampire answered for her.

"Well love I compelled them. You seem to know what that means?" I glared at him thinking of any wooded objects that would kill the vampire in front of me there's a pencil you stole from Sam in your back pocket use that but before I could I heard my sister ask the vampire.

"Where's Stefan? What did you do to him?"

"Stefan's on a bit of a time out" What? Stefans with that psycho hybrid? Oh my days... before anything else was said I gave out a little laugh

"You're the hybrid? the scary murderous sociopath everyone is talking about? you look like an old man with dire need of a new war-" but before I could finish, he ran towards me pushing me against the back wall threatening to kill me in a chokehold.

"That may be so but I can break your neck with a single flick." he said with a murderous tone and eyes that look like he wanted to kill me but couldn't?

"Duly noted." I managed to get out before hearing him laugh in my face letting me go and fall to the floor with a crash.

"Now what is your name sweetheart?" but before I could reply Bonnie and Matt open the doors and enter the huge hall

"Bonnie, get out of here!" My sister yelled

"Go, Bon, Leave!" I shouted along with her well attempted to shout. But in a blink of an eye the hybrid was in front of the Bennett witch, now this is a fight I would like to see. On Bonnies side of course.

"Ah I was wondering when you'd show up. Now we can get started."

***********************************************************

A/N: thought I'd end it like that cause I want to do two chapters an episode maybe. Therfore warning to readers itll be a while until you meet Kol however there will be bits and pieces which relate to Kol but not going to say anything else.

Let me know what you think and if I can do anything to improve my future writing or this chapter.

Also Ashleigh is a REALLY good friend of hers, her best girl friend.

Thank you for reading lovelies xxx

#kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson series #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson #the vampire diaries imagine #the original imagines #the vampire diaries #the originals

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reds-self-ships · 3 years

Text

🔎 The Adventure of the Detection Club

Chapter 4: Memoranda & The Great Detective's Plan

Table of Contents & Trigger Warnings

⚠ CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNING: This chapter contains mild references to death and crime scene descriptions, specifically through severe and repetitive blunt force trauma.

The police hadn’t gone away for even five minutes before *Sholmes, Susato, Ryunosuke and Redford gathered their things together and got into a cab, and were already on their way to the scene of the crime.

Mr. Sholmes put the end of his pipe to his lips, but no kind of smoke seemed to be coming out of it.

“So, Mr. Nineteen—”

“—Ninate—”

“Yes, that. You’re a crime fiction writer, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m also a student of English Literature with the University of London.”

“Well; I do believe that Mr. Naruhodo here also studies English. Well, that is, he studied it before he became an attorney anyway.”

“What? Oh, er—yes!” Ryunosuke exclaimed, his eyes darting about the carriage as though he was following a rather excitable fly.

“Is that so?” asked Redford, his right leg resting up on the knee of his left, stroking his chin with his right hand.

“Er, yes. Though, more as a foreign language than any of the ‘literature’ end of things, that is. You’d probably want to speak to my friend Asogi if you wanted to know anything about English literature.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Although,” added Susato, “there’s also plenty to say on Japanese literature. I’m sure Mr. Naruhodo could give you some recommendations if you ever get the opportunity to study up on it.”

“Yes!” Ryunosuke suddenly exclaimed. “A former client of mine—also a Japanese exchange student—has written his own book of late. He sent me a signed copy as a thank you for defending him in court, actually. It’s called…er…how would you say it in English…? It’s…‘Wagahai wa neko de aru’.”

“I believe it would be ‘I Am A Cat’, Mr. Naruhodo.”

“Oh yes, it would. Wouldn’t it?”

“No point in asking me,” Sholmes said. “I only know a few basic phrases, such as ‘Kutsū no Fukutsū’.”

Susato asked: “Do you mean to say that your stomach has shoes, Mr. Sholmes?”

“What—No! Er, anyway, as I was saying, I don’t speak the language that well.”

“I don’t know any myself, to be honest with you. Who knows, maybe I could learn some crime-related words? Or maybe some courtroom-related words if we ever end up getting that far.”

“Well then, I promise that I’ll do my best to get you found ‘Muzai’,” said Ryunosuke.

Redford and Sholmes sat and stared at him as he began to smile and blush awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head.

“That, er, that means ‘Not Guilty’ in Japanese.”

“Oh…!

——————————

The carriage pulled up in-front of the building that housed the headquarters of the Detection Club, which, even now, was almost entirely surrounded by police constables and blue wooden barriers marked “METROPOLITAN POLICE – DO NOT PASS” in white, stencilled writing.

“Ironic that the offices of a group of crime fiction novelists ended up becoming a crime scene itself, isn’t it?” said Sholmes.

“Definitely something that even I couldn’t make up. I mean, it definitely sounds like something I wouldn’t even be bothered to sit down and write about, now that I think about it. I mean—who’d even want to sit down and read such a thing?”

Ryunosuke came back with Susato after having had a word with the constable in-charge of maintaining the perimeter around the local area. “Alright, we’ve been cleared to enter the crime scene whenever we need to.”

Susato added: “Apparently Detective Jones already sent a telegram ahead to give his approval, and said that we can access any materials involved with the investigation. And that includes the victim’s autopsy report.”

Ryunosuke, Susato and Mr. Sholmes looked up to see that Redford had already deployed a fountain pen and a brown leather-bound notebook, and was already taking what looked to be some particularly in-depth notes.

“Er, Mr. Ninate—?”

“Yes? By the way, Redford or Red will do just fine. Mr. Ninate is my father.”

“OK, er, Red…what are you doing?”

Redford didn’t even lift his head from his work. “Taking notes. You do make notes when you’re investigating something, right?”

“Well, yes, but normally we just file stuff away in the court record as opposed to…”

Ryunosuke craned his head and tried to make out the sort of things that his client was writing. Was this the so-called ‘short-hand’ that Susato had suggested he try learning?

“…a novel, is it?”

“You know, I don’t even bother making notes,” said Sholmes, proudly. “I remember it all myself, then get Dr. Wilson to write it all up when I’m done.

(Which explains so much…so, so much…) said Ryunosuke, quietly to himself.

“Well I’d prefer to keep notes. Well, if you don’t mind, that is?”

“Well not really—”

Ryunosuke didn’t get to finish that sentence. “—Excellent. I’ll just keep making notes, pretend I’m not here.”

Redford continued his note-taking intently, as though nothing had even been said at all. Ryunosuke decided to allow that point to pass without notice.

“Alright then, so the name of the victim is Harris Thomas,” Ryunosuke read from the autopsy report supplied by a constable. “Cause of death is listed as ‘repeated blows from blunt instrument’.”

Mr. Sholmes pulled the photo of the body out of the envelope it came in, immediately putting it back in again as he pulled quite the expression. “Oh my. That’s rather gory.”

“Good to know. But we should get a look at it ourse—” Ryunosuke took the envelope from Sholmes’s hands, opened it, removed the photograph and looked at it. “Oh wow, that ishorrifying.”

Susato tilted her head slightly to one side. “I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, Mr. Naruhodo.”

The photograph, to phrase it gently, wasn’t much to look at. In fact, there wasn’t much left of the victim’s skull either, after the killer had finished what they had set out to do, that much was very much certain.

“A look around the crime scene proper’ll be able to tell us far more, though. Especially as this seems to be quite the locked room mystery as to how the killer managed to get in and out of the locked room after they killed the victim without being spotted or without any sign of forced entry or exit.”

“Well in fairness I did tell you it was a weird one. No forced entry, no other doors, a lock designed to break if it’s tampered with, and windows that barely open, all on the third storey, up there,” Redford pointed out, squinting as the sun reflected off of one of the higher windows of the building.

As the other three looked up, Redford quickly scribbled something out onto a back page of his notebook before tearing it out and handing it to Ryunosuke.

“Oh, thank you. Er…what is it, exactly?”

“A written memo, obviously. ‘No way in besides the key of the defendant. He maintains testimony that it remained on his person at the time. Only one such key exists to his knowledge. There is only one door into the room which didn’t appear forced, and as the windows only open a small amount and the room is up on the third floor of the building’.”

“I see. Thank you, then.” Ryunosuke passed it to Susato, who filed it away in her pocketbook.

“If you need me to write down anything else, do let me know.”

“Alright, er, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Right. Well then, after you,” said Redford, allowing Ryunosuke to step into the building ahead of him.

Before he could follow in after the pair, Susato caught Sholmes by his arm. “Excuse me, Mr. Sholmes…”

“Mm? What is it, Miss Mikotoba?”

“Are you planning something involving Mr. Naruhodo or Mr. Ninate?”

“No…what makes you say that?” the detective lied.

“Mr. Sholmes, you don’t exactly have the best track record for lying and being able to get away with it with any kind of great success for long, you know? You even weren’t able to keep Mr. Naruhodo’s surprise birthday party a secret from him for all of three days. And Iris and I only told you about it a week before it was due to happen!”

“Well how can I be expected notto talk to him and avoid bringing it up with him when we’re all living under the same roof?”

“What are you planning?” asked Susato, with the intonation as though she was talking to a misbehaving dog.

“Well I’ve been watching Mr. Naruhodo’s eyes all day since Mr. Ninate first came into Baker Street. He’s not been able to keep his eyes off of him all day! Even in the cab he didn’t know where to look without making it exceedingly obvious.”

“But Mr. Naruhodo ends up doing that most days anyway.”

“Still. I do believe he may have a bit of a ‘crush’ on this particular client – especially with the way that he took on the case so quickly, and especially given the particular circumstances of this case.”

“So I’m going to assume that making them share a room also falls under the idea of trying to get them together?”

“Precisely!”

“Mr. Sholmes, you really are something else, you know.”

“I try my best.”

Before they could continue any further, Ryunosuke himself shouted down the stairs.

“Susato! Mr. Sholmes! Are you coming?”

“Coming!” responded Sholmes. “Just…tying…my…shoelaces!”

“This isn’t over, Mr. Sholmes,” said Susato as they headed in together after the attorney and the writer.

*AUTHOR’S NOTE: Iris had decided to stay behind and try to repair the door that had been taken off of its hinges by the rather over-eager Detective Athelney Jones.

#OTP: Red Dragon #Fanfiction #Self Insert #The Adventure of the Detection Club #Story #Fic #TGAA spoilers #TGAA 2 spoilers

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maaaaarveeeeel · 4 years

Text

Undercover pt2

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, James Montgomery Falsworth x Reader

Summary: Reader works for Bucky Barnes mob and when things go wrong she's sent on a job to spy on Steve. Can she make him fall for her to get information for her boss? What happens when her boss falls for her? And can she keep her secret relationship a secret? Or will it all blow up? And who's Readers dad's that she's so scared of finding out about her life?

Warnings: Cussing, implications of sex, slight violence

A/N: Here's part 2! Sorry it's so short, I promise part 3 will be longer...and have smut. Sorry for any/all mistakes! Hope you guys like it!

~~~~

"Tell me doll, how many sundresses can one person own?"

You looked up from where you were sitting and blinked a few times before smiling. "What do you mean?"

The man smiled back and hovered a hand over the other chair, asking permission to sit. You nodded and he quickly sat down.

"I'll be blunt and say you've caught my eye. I'll also say, with that, I've noticed you seem to have a never ending supply of sundresses."

You moved your hand to your mouth and chuckled, hoping your blush wasn't obvious. "You're not wrong Mr.-?"

"Call me Steve." He, Steve, said extending his hand to you.

You smiled and took his hand in yours, noticing the rings on his left hand, and shook it. When you went to pull back he didn't let go. Raising an eyebrow at him, he looked at you and smiled.

"Your name is?"

"Oh!" You giggled. "(Y/n), it's (y/n)."

Steve smiled and pulled your hand to his lips and kissed it then let it go. "Well, (y/n), it's nice to finally meet you."

You giggled again and looked down, hoping you weren't as red as you felt.

"Something tells me I'm not the only one that was stealing glances?" Steve asked, smirking at how red you were turning.

You bit your lip and looked up, but avoided eye contact with him. Noticing how Steve's pupils dilated at your simple action. Slowly you made eye contact with him and pretended to miss the lustful gaze in his eyes, and instead smiled sweetly

"No, you weren't." You batted your long eyelashes at him. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. You're just so tall and handsome and I couldn't help overhearing you on the phone one day talking about the art exhibit you-"

"You like art?" Steve interrupted.

"Oh I love it." You gave him a small smile. "It's a way to express what we're hiding in our soul."

Steve stared for a moment then smiled. "That's exactly what I think darling. Do you draw or anything?"

"I take pictures."

"You'll have to show me them sometime." Steve said, cocky smirk raising.

Your blush deepened and you bit your lip again looking away. "They're not all...they're...um…"

"Oh, don't be modest. I'm sure they're great."

You slowly looked at him, releasing your lip. "They're labeled NSFW, if you know what I mean. I'm also in a few myself."

Steve felt his pants grow tight at this and he took a sip of his coffee. "Well doll, art is an expression of our soul and deepest desires. Perhaps you're not truly fulfilling yours, hm?"

You blushed and bit your lip and looked down again. You felt bold and looked up at him through your lashes. "Perhaps you could help fulfill my deepest desires then?"

Steve smiled and leaned across the table. "I'd love to try and help."

"How's it going?" Bucky asked.

"Disgusting." Jim replied from where he sat across the street in a van, watching you flirt with their rival mob's boss. "So I guess it's working?"

"Dum Dum looks like he's ready to go bash his head in, so yeah, I'd say it's working." Gabe yelled from the back.

"Good. I knew she could do this. Keep us updated." Bucky said, voice filled with annoyance.

"Will do boss." Jim replied then hung the phone up. "I'm going to actually throw up if he makes one more reference about 'fulfilling her deepest desires' shut up. We get it."

"I'm just glad they're talking about her sundresses again." Gabe mumbled from where he was in the back.

"How long until Bucky can't take this and breaks and admits he's in love with her?" Dum Dum asked.

Gabe and Jim stared at the man. Gabe with shock and Jim with annoyance.

"What? I can't be the only one that knows how the boss feels about her." Dum Dum raised his eyebrows and faced the other men. "Really? And you call me Dum Dum…"

"How long has he been…?" Gabe asked.

"A while now. Just didn't wanna say anything and make her feel like she's only here because of that." Dum Dum pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "Which isn't why she is by the way. She's more than proven herself to him."

"We know Dum-ass. You're also not the only one that knew that." Jim deadpanned, watching as Steve scooted closer to you and wrapped an arm around the back of your chair. "Does this guy think he's smooth? Because he's not."

"Jacques said he's really high on himself. Never travels with body guards because he thinks no one is stupid enough to attack him." Gabe mumbled.

"Wanna bet?"

"Dum Dum don't be a dumb dumb." Jim side eyed the man. "She's the only one he doesn't know, so she's the only one that can get close enough to get the information we need."

"How do we know he doesn't know her?" Dum Dum asked with a sigh. "I mean really?"

"He's got a point. We know all his main crew and they know us, other than her." Gabe mumbled again. "But we just suspect that because Bucky makes sure she's never actually seen with us- how did I not know he liked her?"

"Because you're too busy keeping Falsworth secret." Dum Dum muttered.

"Wait, what? What secret?" Jim's interest peaked at this, he turned and looked at Gabe then Dum Dum. "What is it?"

"Don't worry about it. It's not gonna happen anymore. Is it Jones?" Dum Dum growled the last part.

"Y-yeah." Gabe stuttered.

Dum Dum eyed Gabe for a moment before turning back in his seat to look at you. Gabe leaned against the wall of the van and pulled his phone out and quickly started texting on it.

Gabe: Dum Dum knows about you and (y/n)

MOnTy: What? How?

Gabe: I don't know. He just does.

MOnTy: How do you know?

Gabe: He just told me!

MOnTy: In front of Jim?

Gabe: Not exactly…he said I didn't know Bucky was in love with (y/n) because I was too busy keeping your secret

Gabe: Monty?

Gabe: Monty? You okay?

Gabe: Monty look I swear I didn't know that either. I'm sorry.

Gabe: Montgomery would you please reply?

Gabe: James Montgomery Falsworth would you please reply?

Gabe: I'm so sorry Monty.

"Monty, can we talk?"

Montgomery jumped a little and looked up from his phone. He was shocked to see Bucky standing in his bedroom's doorway. Nodding, he quickly regained his composure and stood, welcoming Bucky inside.

"What can I do for you Bucky?"

Bucky sat in the chair Montgomery pulled from his desk and looked the man over. He clicked his tongue and smiled before finally speaking.

"You know how we're all a crew right?"

"Of course boss." Montgomery said as he sat on the edge of his bed.

"And I consider you all my friends, my family."

"Yes."

"I mean we all live together!" Bucky chuckled.

Montgomery raised an eyebrow at the other man, not sure where this was going.

Bucky cleared his throat and leaned back in the chair. "Well with this family, and job, you know we don't keep secrets, at least from one another. Because those could get us killed."

Montgomery gulped at this, but kept his composure and nodded.

"What I'm trying to say is, with (y/n) on this mission I think it's about time a certain someone comes clean about something." Bucky spoke slowly.

Montgomery bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. He took a deep breath and watched as Bucky's smile turned to a smirk. Before he could say anything Bucky spoke again.

"That's why I came to you. I know you, Gabe and (y/n) are particularly close. So I wanted to ask for your help."

Montgomery furrowed his eyebrows confused at this. "With...what exactly?"

"I want to get (y/n) a ring." Bucky said simply, a small smile on his face. "An engagement ring."

Montgomery felt his eye twitch and blinked to try and hide it. Instead he smiled and said "Oh, I didn't realize you two were dating."

"We're not." Bucky said simply. "But we've known each other so long and I've loved her almost as long. I didn't want to admit it in fear she'd think less of herself with this job, but after sending her on this particular job I realized she's my girl and I wanna make it official."

"Are you sure you're not just upset that it's one more thing Rogers will have that you won't?" Montgomery spit out before he could stop himself.

Bucky stared at the man for a moment before slowly standing. He then walked to the door and shut and locked it. Turning back towards Montgomery he walked slowly toward the man, hands in his pockets. Once he made it to where Montgomery sat on the edge of his bed he stared down at him, Montgomery never once breaking eye contact.

Bucky removed his hands from his pockets and took a glove off his left hand, revealing a metal hand. Montgomery, still never breaking eye contact, let out a tiny gasp when he felt the coldness of the metal wrap around his throat. Bucky leaned down towards the man's face and studied it for a moment.

"Tell me Monty, how long were you and (y/n) fucking?"

"I-I don't kn-know what you're-"

Bucky squeezed a little harder. "Don't try denying it Monty. Everyone knows you two were fuck buddies. Jesus, it was pretty obvious. You two would sneak off at the same time and come back hours later looking wreaked. You more than her. Did you really think we didn't know what you were up to?" Bucky's grip lessened a little. "I was nice enough to allow it. Since I know it was a no feelings thing."

Montgomery glared at him at that.

"Oh, you think she fell for you like you fell for her, don't you?" Bucky laughed. "She didn't. Wanna know how I know?"

Montgomery held his gaze.

Bucky smirked and leaned in so he was right next to the man's ear. "Dum Dum and me would walk by her room at night and guess who's name she'd be calling out as she touched herself." Bucky pulled back and looked in the man's eyes. "It certainly wasn't yours."

Montgomery fought the tears forming in his eyes back and stuttered out. "Yo-you're lying."

"Why would I lie about this?" Bucky asked. "Why would I pursue her if I knew she didn't have feelings for me? Do you really think I'm that stupid? Think for a minute here Monty."

Montgomery did. He thought about it and realized Bucky was right. If he really was going to get her an engagement ring then that meant he knew she had feelings for him, otherwise he wouldn't waste his time. Bucky was a lot of things, but a time waster was not one of them.

This time when the tears formed Montgomery let them fall. "Why'd you come here?"

"To make sure you know your little hump fest with my girl is over." Bucky said, finally releasing the man's neck.

Montgomery glared at the man as he put his glove back on. Bucky smiled at him and turned to leave. Before he left he turned back and looked at the man one last time.

"Nice talk Monty." With that Bucky was gone.

Montgomery bit his lip and tried to hold his sobs in. He fell on his side and wiped the tears from his face. Pulling his phone from his pocket he looked at the missed texts from Gabe and then noticed he had one from you. Biting his lip he hesitated for a moment on if he should open it or not. When he finally did he felt tears fall down his face once more and he dropped his phone, turned on his side and sobbed until he fell asleep.

Darling Girl: Headed back to the house. Wanna grab food? Steve is an ass. Can't wait to hang!

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #howling commandos #bucky barns x reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel au #mob au

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screamingintosilence · 5 years

Text

A/N: I started this at 8am this morning all because I saw the Dior Homme ad with Robert Pattinson and Camille Rowe in the elevator and felt compelled to write this as a Bughead drabble. I have no regrets. Sorry I didn’t finish sooner, I actually had to do work so I don’t get fired, oops.

She had been unsuccessfully trying to ignore the hormones coursing through her body for weeks now.

He was her boss, after all. Not only that, he was founder and CEO of the entirety of Triple S Enterprises, while she was merely his personal assistant.

It didn't help that he was deliciously gorgeous - mid-thirties, all dark, brooding looks, silky tresses that she wanted to sink her fingers into as she held his head between her thighs, a toned, lean body that she dreamed of licking whipped cream off of.

Down girl, she chidded herself. It was far too early in the morning to be getting so worked up, especially when she had yet to even face her boss.

Betty made her way through the crowd of bustling workers in the main lobby that were vying to get into the main bank of elevators leading to the upper floors of the skyscraper.

She thanked her lucky stars that if she had to do office work instead of her dream job of investigative journalism (thank you very much post-grad New York job market), at least she was able to land working directly for a bigwig that had the finances to lease a private elevator for his upper level staff and their assistants.

“Ms. Cooper,” a deep gravelly voice greeted her as she passed the guard station by said elevator. Gerald “Tall Boy” Petite tipped his uniform hat to her as he did every weekday morning.

“Hi Jerry!” She beamed back as he blushed. Betty was the only person besides his wife allowed to call him that because no one was immune to her Betty Cooper charm. Well, except him, she thought bitterly as her mind once again turned to the image of her boss’s devilishly handsome face.

“Boss man hasn't been in yet, ma'am,” Tall Boy - as he was referred to by nearly everyone else - informed her as she continued on toward the elevator.

“That's fine, thanks Jerry.”

She hummed to herself as the elevator doors opened, running through her mental list of things she needed to get done today and what was on the agenda for her boss as well.

While she would rather spend her days researching into leads on breaking cases, freelance writing to get her foot in door didn't pay the bills on her 1 bedroom apartment. She knew that she could downgrade to a studio, but after 4 years of college in said living arrangement, she had refused. Hence needing a full-time gig that paid well enough to cover her expenses.

Her mind drifted to her best friend Veronica's offer to let her move-in, but Betty was intent on making it on her own as a way to prove her parents wrong. Always so stubborn, it'll get you in trouble if you're not careful, her nose scrunched at the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her mother.

However, she did take up Veronica's offer of helping her find a job in which they would accept her Journalism degree instead of the usually preferred Business Admin one. V’s father, Hiram Lodge, was a bigwig himself and had several business associates in high places, and it was thanks to him and his connections that she found herself in her current predicament of constant arousal over Forsythe Pendelton Jones the Third.

Who knew such a pretentious sounding name could very well fit a brooding bad boy type, who thankfully was in no way an asshole to his subordinates. It was only to his business rivals that he was truly ruthless. And if Betty was being honest with herself, his domineering tone he used during those business dealings had her panties soaked. His emanating power was her ultimate weakness and she wished she could just bang her head on her desk in utter embarrassment over how her insides turned to jelly.

“Hold the door!” An all too familiar commanding voice had her hand shooting out to block the doors closing right after she heard hold.

“G’morning, Mr. Jones!” was heard.

A rushed “Tall Boy” the only response, before the tall frame of the man who haunted her dreams and played a starring role in her dirtiest fantasies crowded the doorway of the elevator, pulling up short at the sight of his PA.

“Ms. Cooper,” his voice like velvet caressed her as she felt her nipples go hard and her breasts grow heavier from it alone. “Perfect, you’re here.” His smile nearly had her falling to her knees at his feet.

Get it the fuck together, Cooper, she berated how easily he undid her without even knowing. Or caring, the voice in her head added snappishly.

She had been late getting up this morning, which hasn’t left her enough time for her normal daily AM self-care session with her favorite vibe that she had found extremely necessary since starting at Triple S. In the month of being his PA, she hadn't missed a day, but her she was, stuck on an elevator ride with the one man she wanted to get utterly lost in.

He leaned past her, hitting the button for their floor where his office was. It was all she could do to keep breathing normally, something she regretted at once when the intoxicating scent of his cologne washed over her senses and she felt a gush of wetness at the apex of her thighs. The doors slid shut and the box started to rise.

Fuck, not now, Cooper. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a terrible idea on her part as the lace of her underwear only made the friction more intense. She could feel her arousal painting the inside of her thighs.

You're such a horny mess, she squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. As attuned as she was to her own body, she could practically smell herself and her face flushed at the realization. She only prayed that the scent of his cologne would mask the smell from the object of her arousal.

She tugged at the hem of her shorter than normal pencil skirt, her brain once again cursing itself for sleeping through her alarm. She realized too late how terrible of an idea it was. His eyes snapped to get at the movement, taking in her form and where her garter belt peaked out from under the skirt.

She watched in horror as his nostrils flared and he took a deep breath to compose himself. It was the wrong, or right, decision on his part as he caught the unmistakable whiff of her excitement. His eyes fell shut for the briefest moment before opening once more.

To her shock, his normally green eyes were nearly overtaken with the black of his irises blown wide. “Ms. Cooper,” his voice was so deep she could feel the vibration of it to her core.

He stepped towards her, all but backing her into the corner. Her breath caught in her throat as her chest heaved, drawing his eyes down to her cleavage that was nearly spilling out of the low cut shirt that she had thrown on in her haste to not be late. She watched as his tongue darted across his lips, a soft mewling sound dropping from her own unwittingly.

There was a soft growling sound in response as a soft “Sir” fell from her mouth.

She could see the tether snap in his eyes as they flashed at her unbidden address, his right hand grasping the nape of her neck as his left wrapped around her waist, hauling her lithe form to his.

Their lips were millimeters apart, her eyes having fallen shut at the sensation racing through her veins. She could feel his lips hovering over hers, but moving no further. She pried her eyes open, confused by his hesitation, and then she saw it.

The unspoken question his eyes of if this was ok, if she wanted this, if she wanted him. Her heart stuttered and her whispered “Yes” was all that was heard before his soft lips came crashing down in the most passionate kiss she’d ever experienced.

He knew how to kiss, soft pecks littered between passionate dances of his tongue tangling with hers. He tasted of the spearmint gum he chewed and tobacco of the cigarettes she had been trying to get him to quit. It was an intoxicating flavor combination and she couldn’t get enough.

Her hands had tangled in his silky hair, she noted in the back of her mind how it felt so much better than she had ever imagined, as her knee rose and hitched itself over his hip. His hand that had been around her waist dropped to her ass, pulling her somehow even closer into his embrace. His hips rocked, grinding his stiff erection into her core, the sensation causing her brain to short circuit and her lips broke away from his as her head fell back against the cool metal of the elevator box.

Uncaring that his lips were no longer on hers, they attached themselves to her neck, kissing, biting, sucking until they reached the top swells of her breast. She was moaning at each kiss, feeling like she was about to become completely boneless in his arms as her hands, still gripping his hair, pulled him tight to her bosom, never wanting this feeling to end.

She was so lost in everything he was doing, she didn't even notice the elevator starting to slow. Thankfully he was aware enough of where they were that he pulled back slightly as he felt the box of metal reaching its destination. He pecked her lips twice more, tucked her hair that had fallen out of her bun back behind her ear, and lowered her still hooked leg back to the ground.

They both straightened their clothes and hair as he folded his suit jacket which he had yet to put on over his arm to hide the evidence of how much she excited him. He gave her a quick wink before guarding his features as the elevator pinged to signal their floor and the doors slid open to reveal a matronly Ms. Grundy at the executive receptionist’s desk.

He placed a hand at the small of her lower back which caused her to shiver with delight.

“Morning Geraldine,” he greeted the older lady warmly. “Looking beautiful as ever.”

“Good morning, Gigi!” Betty added brightly.

“Morning Mr. Jones, Betty,” the lady blushed at the young CEO’s greeting.

“Please hold all my calls and reschedule any visitors for me this morning, Ms. Cooper and I have a very important last minute meeting that is expected to last for a while. I'll let you know when it's done.” Betty’s eyes flashed to him in surprise. What meeting? Did he mean? Oh God. His face gave absolutely nothing away.

“Of course, Sir. Have a wonderful day!” Her face showed absolutely no sign of suspicion and the tightness in Betty’s chest receded by a fraction.

His hand, still pressed to her lower back, pushed her forward, ushering her down the hall. They passed her desk and he guided her into his office. His sound proof office, she reminded herself. Closing the door and flipping the lock, as an extra precaution, he guided her until her back was pressed against the mahogany and his arms were caging her in.

A cage you very much don’t mind being in, her mind was racing at all the possibilities of this unexpected turn her morning took.

“Now, Ms. Cooper, where were we?” His hooded gaze weighed down on her and she bit her lip at how his voice washed over her.

Her hands grasped his tie to pull him closer and she looked up at him through her lashes. “Mr. Jones.”

#boss!jughead #PA!Betty #bughead #bughead drabble #bughead au #boss au #riverdale #betty cooper #older!jughead #jughead jones #my writing #screamingintosilence writes

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner Ch 20:Bent, But Not Yet Broken...

Summary: The team are still searching for Katie, but with little luck. Meanwhile, she’s at the mercy of Hydra...until help comes from a very unlikely place.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, bad language, beatings, smut (via flashbacks), mentions of rape and major angst. NSFW (NO UNDER 18s...)

Tag list is open- Send me an ask

Open for suggestions to one-shots as well

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

Katie awoke alone wherever she was. They had driven her from the place she was taken and they had driven for hours, right into the night, when she had been dragged out of the back of a van and shoved harshly into what looked like some kind of old factory, down a number of steps so she knew she was underground. They had offered her nothing, no food, or water and she’d simply curled up on the hard bed in the corner of the room and cried until she had fallen asleep.

She had no idea how long she had been there, no idea. There were no windows, just artificial light so she had no way of telling how long had passed by using the cycle of day and night. Eventually, the lock of the door clicked and she jumped to her feet as the door opened, and the large, burly man who reminded her of Rumlow stepped into her cell. Katie swallowed, but maintained her stance, her eyes locking onto his, jaw jutting up defiantly as he stepped towards her.

“My name is Jones, and I’m in charge of your interrogation.” he sneered.

Still she said nothing.

She was dragged to another room by this Jones, who sat in a chair opposite her with another agent, and asked what she knew about what SHIELD was up to, now it was under the control of Coulson. And then them targeting her made perfect sense, she was the only Avenger that knew he was alive (Ward had no idea she had told Steve) They informed her they knew she had to be working alongside him to track the Sceptre and Hydra, even though she hadn’t seen him for months.

And once more, she said nothing.

“Miss Stark?" Jarvis inquired again. Katie gave an exasperated sigh. Her alarm hadn't gone off and it had been Steve that had awoken her half hour later than she wanted when his alarm went off. Now she was running, running way behind. She hadn't even had chance to do her make up. Thankfully, at Steve's insistence she had packed the night before. "Yes J?" "Mr. Stark has informed me that he's begun to slowly pour out your coffee. If you don't hurry, there won't be any left." She rolled her eyes, shoved her make up punch in the bag she was taking with her- plenty of time to do it on the way. The flight would be a few hours. She grabbed her bag, headed into the hallway and Steve walked out of the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. "I gotta go baby I'm sooo late." She sighed "Tony will be having a fit." Steve chuckled and quickly scanned her up and down.

“Nice suit.”

She glanced down at her black pinstriped jacket, trousers and a simple light blue button down.

“You making funna me?” she teased.

He shook his head “Not at all. You’re gorgeous as ever.” “Charmer.” she grinned as he leaned down to give her a quick kiss before she turned on her heels. "Love you." She tossed over her shoulder. "You too" he smiled "See you later."

As time ticked by they interrogations continued. She had her fingernails dug up with pins, she was water-boarded, strangled to the point of passing out, and it was always the same. They’d push her, she’d continue to fight, and then then they would stop. They’d leave her for another stretch of time in that room, feeding her whatever meagre morsels they decided upon, deliberately weakening her system, and would come at her again.

But, the thing with being in Solitary confinement is that you have a lot of time to think. And think she did, whilst she nursed her various injuries. As such Katie had a pretty good idea now why they were so bothered about Coulson and SHIELD tracking the sceptre. There had been records of it in any of the files dumped on the internet when they had released SHIELD and Hydra’s secrets to the world but she suspected it was in Hydra’s possession and had been from the start, taken by Sitwell and STRIKE from the tower once they had defeated Loki. She further surmised, that it had been taken to the specialist department, STATION just like the rest of the Chitauri shit that they had recovered. Which meant that Strucker must have it.

And then one day, they swiftly changed tact.

“All you need to do is tell me what the Avengers and SHIELD are planning next and you’ll be free to go.” Jones said, looking at her as she stood in her cell.

More time went by, and then she was pulled back out and dragged to the familiar, clinically white room they like to ‘interrogate her in’. This time they threatened to go back and find Tony, Steve, the rest of her friends and family, and kill them all. But this time she didn’t snort, she full on laughed, because the thought of them trying to get into the tower and meeting Earth's Mightiest Heroes was hilarious. And the laughter just wouldn’t stop.

That was until she got a back hander across the face and another punch in the ribs.

But the next time they try something else, they almost break her. Almost.

They came for her in her cell and first off they took her rings. They’d already taken her necklace and her bracelet but they’d left these with her for some reason. But now, they wanted them. First off they went for the sparkling diamond on her left hand. She should just have let them have it, but she couldn’t. It’s her’s, it’s her ‘big, fuck off Tiffany diamond’, her princess cut engagement ring that she had always dreamed of. So she tried to fight, and screamed when she felt and heard her fingers snap when Jones stamped on her hand. When they went for the emerald on her right hand, she was too caught up with the pain in her left to fight for that one. This time they were the ones laughing at her, laughing at her pain as she held her bust hand close and choked on deep sobs.

And then, despite all that, Jones did something far more humiliating, degrading by forcing himself on her. And she put up as good a fight as she could considering the state her hand was in, but someone else grabbed her painful fingers and pinned her arms above her head, sniggering, calling her a “SHIELD slut…” The pain of him inside her was excruciating, but as she opened her mouth to scream at him, she looked in his face and knew that was what the bastard wanted. Well fuck you, she thought, you might be able to take me physically, but you can’t have my mind.

So instead she turned her head to the side and screwed her eyes shut. Trying to block it all out.

When he had finished his grunting and smashing into her, he passed her over to the man who has been pinning her arms above her head but by now she was emotionally dead. When he finished, she lay still for a moment before she heard footsteps and Jones crouched down besides her, holding her diamond ring between his thumb and fingers.

“You know…” he leered at her as she backed away, grabbing at her trousers and shakily pulling them up as she rose from the ground “I bet this is worth a bob or two. You’d think that giving you a rock like that would mean he cares but where is he, huh? The Star Spangled Man doesn’t seem to have a plan at the moment.”

And then, despite the pain, despite the fact he has just violated her, she laughed again because, you know ‘Star Spangled Man with a Plan…’ and those ridiculous videos and that spandex…

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the brightest thing to do. Jones snapped and he unloaded on her, again, only this time it was savage. He lost his temper, and she would normally be slightly proud but she had no time to be as she was pushed into walls, punched, kicked, stomped on. She tried to fight back, and normally she would and could put up a decent battle against anyone, she’s an Avenger, but being weak from lack of decent food, lack of sleep, and the various injuries she’s already sustained meant it was futile. And then the other one joined in. As they punched and kicked away she could hear faint voice echoing in her ringing ears, a brush of a thumb across her cheek, the warmth of a palm against her face.

“God I love you, Doll…” Steve looks down at her as he lies over her gently, both of them slightly breathless, sheets tangled around her legs.

"It's broken," she says, matter of factly, as her Captain’s hand gently reaches up, thumb and forefinger carefully tilting her head so he can see .

He gives her a pained smile. "Yeah, looks like." whilst he gently hands her an ice pack before standing up, and dropping a hand to the top of her head.

But no one came.

Jones glanced down at her "This is your own fault.” he said, as his boot swiftly collided with her midriff one last time. “One way or another, I will get something out of you. Maybe you’ll speak when we take you up to see a couple of my special friends… they’re good at making people comply.”