#Now she just casually hooks her fingers in those wires in the front and gently yanks him around a lil when he starts gettin fidgety

[spotsupstuff]

Has sparrows ever seen caper without his face plate on?

she Is his Mechanic (which is like.. a doctor almost) so like every month, yes! sometimes it should happen more often but Euros hates sittin' still with his puppet. if he's already Focusing on it and Using it, it bettah be feckin movin

[honeyedhoseok]

Hanami Pt. 1 | The V2 Series

Genre | just messy, messy angst 

Word Count | 4.5K

Warnings | Y/N has lots of anxiety in this chapter, be warned! LOTS of pining, mentions of depression, etc. Basically just Y/N wallowing.

Summary | You and Hongbin head downtown to meet the rest of your friends in celebration of the cherry blossom festival. 

A/N | This is slight filler. But! It’s pretty important for what’s to come. Sorry if it seems redundant. It took me forever to pump this out, so I hope you enjoy, nonetheless <3 also, the answer to who is holding hands in the image teaser is finally solved!!

Read the rest of the V2 Series HERE!

Yeonwoo | Picture Message Received [11:28 AM]

Yeonwoo [11:28AM] I’m downtown!!! Cherry blossom ice cream!!! You guys need to try this

Hyejin [11:34AM] Yeonwoo, it’s not even lunch time yet?

Yeonwoo [11:36AM] And? I’m already drinking, too :) the bars opened early. look at this thing!!

Yeonwoo | Picture Message Received [11:36AM]

Yeonwoo [11:37AM] it’s called a Royal Orchid, isn’t it pretty?

 Y/N [11:38AM] holy fuck, I want one!!!!!!!

 Yeonwoo [11:40AM] come downtown!!! Let’s all meet up

 Hyejin [11:41AM] I’m down!

 After placing your phone on your nightstand, you roll over in bed, taking in the sight of a peacefully sleeping Hongbin beside you. His hair curls cutely around his temples, his mouth slightly agape at the deep sleep that has overcome him after getting home later than usual the night before. 

 He was only awake for an hour or two last night—long enough to heat up some leftovers in the oven and shovel them in his mouth—before he was trudging off to bed to sleep in on his upcoming day off.

 You hate to ask him, but you want to meet your friends downtown and since he didn’t have work— 

“Stop staring at me like that,” he murmurs with a dry throat, one eye creaking open to stare at you humorously. “I’m trying to sleep.” 

Your mouth falls open. “How’d you even know I was looking?” 

“I could feel it,” Hongbin says, a smile splitting his face in two. “You look like you’re about to apologize for something.” 

You hate that he can read you so well. “Well—I know it’s your day off,” you begin, watching Hongbin’s expression to gauge his reaction before you push further, “but Yeonwoo is out at the Cherry Blossom Festival and I was wondering if you wanted to go check it out?” 

“Sure,” he agrees easily, yawning. “Why are you acting like you’re afraid to ask me out?”  

Hongbin reaches out to caress the side of your face gently, hooking a finger under your chin to bring your mouth down to his for a chaste kiss. “Are you getting shy on me in our old age?” 

You return the soft press of his lips, but roll your eyes. “You’re older than me!” 

“Taller, too.” He grins, stretching his long limbs with a groan. “I just need to shower and then we can go.” 

“Really?” You say, grinning. “I’ll get dressed!” 

You hop out of bed, walking over to your dresser to pick out an outfit. A few moments later, Hongbin sidles up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzles his face into your neck.  

“You sure you don’t want to join me for a shower first?” He murmurs, placing a kiss on your shoulder.  

Your stomach stirs at the intent in his words, and you let out a breathy laugh. “I’m already clean,” you protest. “I took a shower last night before bed.” 

“I can help make you dirty again,” he suggests, nose ghosting up the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Hmm?” 

Goosebumps arise where Hongbin’s breath floats over, paired with light kisses that have you closing your eyes as he continues his persuasive assault. Just as you are about to give in, Hongbin’s hands traveling south from your waist and under the long t-shirt you wore to bed, his phone vibrates on the nightstand.  

Loud buzzing noises fill the room and your eyes re-open, the desire fizzling out of your system just as quickly as it entered. You sigh, removing yourself from his embrace and returning to finding your clothes as Hongbin slinks away, leaving an apology whispered against your skin as he places a final, soft kiss on your shoulder.  

You won’t let a badly-timed phone call ruin your mood, though. At least Hongbin had agreed to come out at all, right? 

While Hongbin is in the shower, you find yourself indulging in your new habit of unhealthily checking Taehyung and Yeseul’s social media accounts for any updates.  

Today, along with hundreds of others in the city—and soon to include you and your friends—they are enjoying a day off to participate in the festivities of the annual cherry blossom festival.  Downtown was going to be buzzing today with street vendors and food carts and just general fun, which is why you wanted to go. It was no wonder that Taehyung and Yeseul would be out doing the same thing, but you roll your eyes at the post anyway. 

Despite seeing posts similar to these in the past few weeks from both Taehyung and Yeseul, it still turns your stomach. A little less, now—you’ll admit that much—but not because you’d come any closer to being okay with Taehyung completely moved on and living his best life after your—

What were you even supposed to call it? A falling out? A break up? For two people who weren’t exclusive, it didn’t seem right to call it that, even though the pain was so reminiscent of previous heartbreak you’d experienced. 

You stare at the photo for a while, letting your eyes trace over Taehyung’s soft locks, his pretty brown eyes and eyelashes, his tanned skin, his lips pulled into a cute smirk, the sleeves of his shirt coming down a little on his hand making a peace sign, the curve of his jaw. Tears prick at the backs of your eyes but you refuse to let them blur your vision, cradling Taehyung’s picture on the screen in your hands for just a little while longer as you settle into your longing—hoping that one day it won’t be so hard to see him like this. Hoping that one day you won’t feel so nostalgic when a picture of him pops up. Hoping that one day—and if it came soon, you’d be okay with that—that you won’t wish you could go back to the peaceful day at his apartment before everything fell apart.

You and Hongbin arrive downtown just as Yeonwoo gives you her updated location: a snow cone cart near the water. When you walk up, she’s ordering a Dragon Blood flavor in their largest size while Hyejin stands beside her, contemplating all of her options on the menu board with furrowed brows. 

Yeonwoo’s eyes light up. “You’re here!” she says, walking over to pull you into an embrace. “With Hongbin!” 

“I’m here,” he says cheerfully, returning her hug with small pats between the shoulder blades. “It’s been a while, right?”

“Yep,” Hyejin says, joining your group off to the side as she pockets her wallet. “Now Yeonwoo and I can third wheel like old times.”

You roll your eyes as Hongbin chuckles, feeling his hand find the small of your back. “Do you want a snow cone?” he asks. “My treat.”

You nod and he gets in line, leaving you with your reeling friends.

“So, how’s everything?”

The intent in Yeonwoo’s voice is hard to hide, and you try not to get annoyed by it. After your embarrassing break down in her car concerning Taehyung, she’d been periodically checking in on you to make sure you weren’t spiraling again. 

I’m fine, I promise, you’d texted her just recently.

In reality, you were definitely spiraling, just not where anyone could see it anymore. Being up to date with Taehyung’s escapades on his Instagram hurt, but somehow soothed the ache of emptiness inside you—it was almost enough just to see his face, see him smiling and happy even if it wasn’t with you. Almost.   

“Everything’s fine,” you respond, grinning. “I finally convinced Hongbin to do something with me on his day off, so this is the best day I’ve had in awhile.” 

“Aww,” Hyejin coos. “Cute, you’re like an old married couple.” 

You grimace at the comment, but force out a stifled laugh. “Something like that, yeah.” 

You glance to where Hongbin is in line, talking with the street vendor about the most popular flavors on the menu. He looked good today, you had to admit: his dark hair falling into his eyes as he dipped his chin in thank you to the vendor, his outfit a casual pair of jeans and a t-shirt that you hadn’t seen him in in so long you forgot he owned such clothes, the perfect smile he threw your way as he headed over, two yellow snow cones in his hands.  

He offers you one. “He said the pina colada was good,” he says. “I hope that’s okay?” 

You shrug, taking a bite out of the rounded top. Hongbin watches you with cautious eyes, but when you give him a smile while you crunch on the shaved ice, his face lights up happily. He takes out his phone to snap a quick picture of his own cone before having a taste.  

Something stirs in your stomach as you watch him, a warm feeling that has been dormant for a while.  

“Should we walk?” Yeonwoo asks. “I’m waiting on a friend to join us, they should be here in a little.” 

Hyejin laughs a little at the statement but when you look at her, she shakes her head in a way that lets you know she’ll tell you later.  

The four of you set out, walking beside the riverfront for a little while. Cherry blossoms litter the ground and there’s a happy air that settles above you in the atmosphere—for the first time in a while, you actually feel good.  

Maybe it’s the outside air,  maybe it’s the sugary sweetness of the snowcone in your hand, maybe it’s the way Hongbin’s fingers brush against your own at your side a few times before he finally catches them, lacing them through his and smiling down at you. 

The way your heart flutters at the action is surprising, but not unwelcome.  

“Look at those!” Yeonwoo says suddenly, pointing over at a vendor whose booth boasts a collection of hand-made wire flowers, the petals covered in resin in various shades of blues, pinks, and reds. 

She leads your group over, stooping in front of a display of the fake flowers in a small dirt-filled pot on the ground.  

“How much?” Hyejin asks the woman manning the booth. 

“Four dollars each,” the woman says, giving you all a warm smile. “Or fifteen for the pot.” 

“They’d be perfect for my coffee table,” Yeonwoo murmurs. “Should I get them?” 

She looks up at you for affirmation, making you chuckle. You can tell from the look in her eyes that she’s made up her mind, she just wanted someone else to tell her it was a good idea, too.  

“I mean, yeah—“  

“We’ll take them.” A voice behind you chimes in, reaching over the table display to hand the woman a twenty dollar bill. Both you and Yeonwoo turn around to see a grinning Jungkook handing the woman the money.  “Keep the change,” he adds with an incredibly charming smile. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Jungkook—his hair is longer, but it looks good, somehow. And he’s broader like he’s been working out his upper body, particularly his chest and shoulders. His eyes flicker to yours and his mouth droops for a fraction of a second before he’s focused back on Yeonwoo, and he gives her a cheeky grin.  

“They’ll go good in the living room,” you hear him murmur to her as he hands her the pot of flowers. She grins up at him and he envelops her in a soft hug, his lips at her ear as he says something you can’t hear but has Yeonwoo  giggling and red in the face.  

Hongbin sidles up beside you, scaring you out of your transfixed gaze on Jungkook and Yeonwoo.  

“Jungkook, how you been, man?” Hongbin says, holding out his hand for a shake. Jungkook takes it, keeping one arm lazily draped over Yeonwoo’s shoulders. She shrugs it off after a few moments, looking uncomfortable with the way you and Hyejin’s eyes keep roaming her every move.  

You can’t help but wonder what Jungkook is doing here, and more importantly, if Taehyung is anywhere in the vicinity. Goosebumps arise on your skin at the thought, and you wrap your arms around yourself. You find yourself thinking of the social media posts you’d seen throughout the day.  

Jungkook had commented on Yeseul’s instagram update, you remembered that much. Was he meeting them here? Was Taehyung coming? Was he bringing Yeseul? Were you going to have to see them together? Your brain clouds with thoughts, so much that Hongbin has to say your name three times before you hear it.  

“You okay?” He asks, looking at you uneasily. He brushes a few stray hairs back from your face. “You don’t look so good, baby.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, swatting his hand away. You don’t mean to do it as angrily as you do, and the look of hurt that crosses Hongbin’s face has you backtracking, choosing to grab his hand and intertwine your fingers through his instead. “Sorry.” 

“Have you guys eaten?” Jungkook asks. “I passed a cart on the way over that was selling smoked turkey legs and they looked really good.” 

“Nope,” Yeonwoo replies, popping her lips on the ‘p’ at the end of the word.  

You raise your eyebrows at the statement, knowing surely from the text messages in your group chat that Yeonwoo had been snacking since she and Hyejin arrived downtown this morning.  

“Lead the way,” Hyejin says, gesturing for the two to lead at the front of the sidewalk. She joins you and Hongbin behind them, completely content with being the fifth wheel with the way a smirk settles onto her face.  

“What’s that thing you wanted to tell me?” you whisper to her, eyes darting to Yeonwoo.  

“I can’t tell you right now,” she replies, shaking her head. “But isn’t it obvious?” 

You purse your lips in thought. You were getting more curious by the moment—what was obvious?  

You remembered that a while ago, you’d thought Jungkook and Hyejin were going to be a thing, but Hyejin was never interested in him. What was he doing now? Were he and Yeonwoo getting close because they were discussing theories on you and Taehyung, why both of you were probably acting weird lately?  

Your stomach turns at the thought, and you focus on breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth for the rest of the walk to the food cart. Jungkook keeps bumping into Yeonwoo’s shoulder as you walk, making her giggle and push him away. Hongbin is silent beside you—probably still sulking about you pushing his hand away earlier—and Hyejin is only interested in her phone for the time being. The group atmosphere feels off now, and you can’t tell if it’s your imagination everything is really as tilted as it seems. 

The most important thing on your mind at the moment was whether or not you could get Jungkook to talk about Taehyung without it being too obvious; maybe you could pull him to the side at some point, or mention Taehyung in passing— 

“Y/N, do you remember when we came to the Cherry Blossom festival and spent the whole time looking for a place that sold the drink we saw someone holding on their instagram story?” Yeonwoo says, turning to look over her shoulder at you with a grin.  

You nod immediately. “We searched everywhere,” you say, shaking your head at the memory. 

“So you never found it?” Jungkook asks. “What did it look like?” 

Yeonwoo gives him the general description of the drink from what she remembers, and Jungkook does some searching as you all stand in line for the food cart.  

“I’m going to grab us that bench over there,” Hyejin says. “Y/N, come with me so I don’t have to look like a loser sitting by myself.” 

You let Hyejin pull you out of line, yelling at Hongbin to get you a corn dog before you’re too far away. Hyejin sits in front of you on the wooden bench, pulling out a powder puff from her purse before she speaks.  

“So, are you playing dumb right now?” Hyejin asks. She was always one to get right to the point. “‘Cause I’m kind of confused.” 

You watch her inspect her reflection in a small heart-shaped mirror that she also pulls from her purse, feeling your pulse quicken in your veins.  

“What?” you manage to say after a few moments. “What do you mean?” 

“You know that I know, right?” Hyejin says. “About everything.” 

This is what she wanted to talk to you about. So Yeonwoo was discussing your secrets—not with Jungkook, but with Hyejin; which meant she’d figured it out. 

Your stomach clenches at the thought and somewhere in the back of your head you now have a slight headache forming. You should have known you couldn’t trust Yeonwoo, or anyone, for that matter, with such a sensitive subject as Taehyung—why did you ever think it was a good idea to show your emotions in front of her that day at the cafe? 

Hyejin looks over her mirror at you, raising an eyebrow as she waits for your answer.  

You blow out a long breath, hands gripping onto the edge of the table, fingernails digging into the splintered wood to keep you grounded.  

“You do?” you say weakly. “Hyejin—” 

She snaps the compact shut suddenly, eliciting a sharp clap that makes you jump in your seat.  

“They’re kind of cute, right? I mean, I know that we had a small thing a while ago, but it never went anywhere, you know? I like him better for her,” Hyejin says, looking over to where your friends stand in line.  

Your eyes follow hers, looking at Jungkook and Yeonwoo in line for a few moments before it registers. 

“Oh,” you breathe out, finally putting the pieces together. “Oh my god.”  

A giggle bursts from behind your closed lips, followed by another until you are full-on laughing at the situation. Hyejin wasn’t talking about you, she was talking about Yeonwoo—and the thought makes you so happy a tear rolls down your cheek at your hysterically-induced laughter.  

Hyejin smiles at you a little, laughing a little out of spite, but her eyebrows furrow slightly as she’s unable to understand why the situation is so funny to you. After laughing way too hard for way too long, you finally straighten up, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes as Hyejin watches on.  

“Yes, them—” you clear your throat, stilling recovering from laughing as you nod in the direction of Jungkook and Yeonwoo’s backs, “they’re cute together—but as in, like, friends?” 

“What? You are not this fucking slow, Y/N” Hyejin snaps, slapping her hand down on the table. 

You blink a few times, still not understanding.  

“Oh my god,” Hyejin groans. “They’re dating, Y/N. Jesus.” 

“Yeonwoo and Jungkook?” you say incredulously. 

Hyejin nods in a way that screams “duh,” but you don’t have time to be offended by her demeanor.  

“Since when?” 

“I don’t know. A couple of weeks now, I think.” 

“How come no one told me?” 

You look back to where your best friend is standing in line, and suddenly, you can see it: the way Yeonwoo’s shoulder nudges  innocently against Jungkook’s, down to where Jungkook’s knuckles brush against the back of Yeonwoo’s hand, just itching to grab it and show her some cute affection in public.  

“God, Yeonwoo was right,” Hyejin says, her voice full of pity. “You really have clocked out from the world around you lately.” 

You have to fight the urge to send a biting remark back. The comment stings, but you know it’s also true.  

“Yeonwoo said that?” You ask, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “What else has she said?” 

“About you?” Hyejin asks, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing, really. She’s kind of been in la la land lately with Jungkook around.” 

“Oh yeah?” You reply weakly.  

For some reason, the news hits you a little harder than you expected. Had you really been so caught up in your own problems that you hadn’t noticed anything around you? 

“Listen, we’re all going through stuff. I get it,” Hyejin begins, and you can already tell that you’re not going to like what she has to say. “But Yeonwoo and you are supposed to be best friends—like the real kind, stronger than any of us—and for you to just cut her off  because you want to fight your battles on your own? Well, it’s—she’s hurt, Y/N.” 

You look down at your fingernails, at the chipped paint that remains on the bed from weeks of neglect. Your eyes threaten to well up with tears but you hold them back, even though you’re sure Hyejin can see how close you are from the red tint to your cheeks and nose.  

“She’s trying—well, we both are, I guess. But Yeonwoo is really trying to be there for you. Please tell me you see that?” 

“Of course I do,” you say quietly, and the stinging feeling behind your eyes doubles as you finally hold Hyejin’s gaze. “There’s just some stuff that’s not worth dragging other people into, you know? I don’t want to burden her with all my mess.” 

“What kind of mess?” Hyejin asks, quirking an eyebrow. “Are you in debt or something?” 

“What?” you say incredulously. “No! I’m not in debt, oh my god. Well, I am—what person our age isn’t—but that’s besides the point. This has nothing to do with that.” 

“I was going to say, I can help you organize your finances, Y/N. All you have to do is—” 

“Hyejin, no,” you say, laughing a little. “I’m fine, my finances are fine.” 

You two grin at each other and the smile on your face feels genuine. The weight pressing on your shoulders for the last month feels a little less like a crushing weight, if only for a few moments. You still weren’t sure if you could ever indulge fully into your burdens to Yeonwoo, but it was nice that she seemed ready to listen if you ever did.  

The rest of the group joins you two at the table then, sitting down cardboard trays filled with fried goodies that make your mouth water. As you reach towards Yeonwoo to pinch a piece of funnel cake off, her eyes meet yours and you give her a small smile. She returns it, and you consider that another win.  

You float through conversation with your friends, attempting to catch up on small things you missed with Yeonwoo and Hyejin after removing yourself from your group chat. Hyejin had recently taken up a new kickboxing class that she claimed was doing amazing things for her obliques, and Yeonwoo was getting into gardening but was killing everything she touched so far.  

“Hence, why I bought the flowers for her,” Jungkook adds in, throwing a teasing smile Yeonwoo’s way. “If I come over to another sad-looking flower pot—” 

“Hey! That wasn’t my fault!” Yeonwoo insists, laughing. “I told Taehyung I thought my green thumb was black and he insisted I try a succulent—” 

“—that you still managed to kill!” 

Every giggles at their banter, which quickly fades as your boyfriend mentions the one person who could ruin your good mood.  

“Speaking of Taehyung,” Hongbin says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Where’s he been lately? I haven’t seen him around as much.” 

Somehow, across the table, Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He stares pointedly at you, almost in a taunting demeanor, and the funnel cake on your stomach sours a little at the eye contact. You too look at each other a little too long—you, trying to figure out why he is looking at you so pointedly, and Jungkook, waiting on your answer—before Hongbin laughs.  

“What? Is he out doing something we can’t know?” 

“No,” Jungkook says, finally redirecting his gaze beside you at Hongbin. “He’s out with his girlfriend a lot lately—someone from work.” 

“Girlfriend?” you and Hongbin ask at the same time, though your tone is a little more disappointed and little less surprised than Hongbin’s. 

 “Yeseul, right?” Yeonwoo asks. “I think we saw them together the other day downtown—at the cafe, remember, Y/N?” 

Her tone is ginger, dancing lightly on the subject, and you’re appreciative. You do a nod-shrug combination at the comment, feeling Jungkook’s eyes on you once more.  

“Ah, so that’s why he’s not around as much anymore,” Hongbin says, chuckling. “Well good for him. Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” 

Jungkook chuckles, and you’re sure it only sounds mocking to your ears because of your mixed emotions about the subject being discussed.  

“Well you just found out, right?” Jungkook interjects for you.  

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “The other day, like Yeonwoo said.” 

Jungkook hums, quirking an eyebrow at you as he crumples his napkin up in his hand before tossing it back on the table. Your eyes follow it as the conversation fades, replaced by the rushing in your ears suddenly. Every time you thought you could get away from talking or thinking about Taehyung, he came right back somehow to make you feel hollow all over again.  

“I’ll be back,” you say quickly, swinging your legs over the side of the bench and standing up. It feels like your limbs are buzzing with energy, and you walk away from the table before anyone can ask where you’re going.  

The sun is setting now, and the proximity of the waterfront to the food cart is reachable in just a short walk from the table. You head over, sitting down on a bench and pulling out your phone. No one at the table seems to be suspicious of your exit except for Jungkook, who quickly looks back at you over his shoulder for a second before returning to the conversation.  

You pull up Instagram—a coping mechanism and an anxiety booster at once—and type in the familiar characters of Taehyung’s username before clicking on his profile. There’s nothing new on his story or Yeseul’s and so you head back to your home screen. At the top, there is a list of people who have recently updated their stories, with Jungkook being the first.  

You click on it, seeing that it was just posted within the last minute or so, and a picture of two hands clasped tightly pops up. You look up at the table where your friends sit, watching Jungkook show Yeonwoo the picture to which she gives him a shy smile, shaking her head at how cheesy it is.  

It is cheesy, but it’s also cute. It makes a sad feeling stir within you, one that makes you wish you had someone to post cheesy pictures of—and although Hongbin sits just a few feet away from you, conversing with your friends in your absence, you know deep down you don’t want it to be with him.  

No, your mind stays—as always—fixated on the one person you can’t have, the one person who doesn’t want you anymore, the one person who you waited too long to realize you had, and then they were gone for good. It’s pathetic, really. The way your eyes dare to prick again at just the thought of him.  The way mentioning him makes you remember every good thing about him and why you were so hooked on him all these years—it had nothing to do with the physically exciting details of your secret relationship. You were just in love with him, plain and simple.  

Always had been, it seemed. 

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 3

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Three, Eleanor Mary Winchester

Ava

"Are you scared?"

"To give birth? Uh, yes. I think I'd be stupid not to be."

Dean propped himself up on his elbow. He ran his fingers along my stomach. "What are you afraid of?"

"The pain. I don't want to be ripped in half."

"What else?" He drew designs on my stomach with his finger.

"I don't want something to happen to her. I want her to be safe."

He smiled. "You will be okay. You both will be."

"How do you know that?"

"I've been reading those books."

I raised an eyebrow. "You hate research."

"Yeah, but this is researching the female body." He said casually. "So it's fun."

"There is nothing fun about squeezing a nine pound Winchester head out of my vagina." I snapped at him.

He looked horrified. "Kind of glad I won't see that."

"Dean..." I sighed.

"You know I'm not happy about that. I'm just kidding. I'd be right up by your head the whole time. I won't let anything ruin that image for me."

"What image?"

"This one." He said, kissing down my body. He placed himself between my legs and peaked up at me from below my swollen abdomen before ducking under the blanket.

I was in Hell. They had placed the balloon catheter 30 minutes ago to help my cervix open up. I'd never felt pain like that before. It rolled through my body through my stomach and into my thighs. Sam was trying his best, but it was mostly just awkward.

"Do you want ice or anything?"

I looked up at him with a pained expression. I couldn't even speak. I just wanted to cry. I just wanted to be held. I wanted my husband. I wanted my mom.

I held the pillow against my stomach as my muscles spasmed. The nurse came in. I didn't see her, I just heard the sunshine in her voice. "My name is Tara and I'll be your night nurse. How are things going?"

"She's in a lot of pain." Sam said nervously. "Can't you give her something?"

"Is this your first child?" She asked Sam. "The Dads are always nervous, but her body is made for this. She can do it!"

"I'm not..."

"How much longer?" I opened an eye to meet the nurse. It wasn't her fault that we were unconventional. They had given Sam a wrist band to prove he could stay. Usually it said father. I didn't know what it said this time. I couldn't bare to look.

"It will fall out when you're dilated enough. Hopefully soon." She said with a smile. "Try a cold cloth on your head. It may help with the dizziness." She made a few scribbles on her pad and exited. I closed my eyes again.

I heard Sam run water. He lowered himself down on the bed, and he slowly pressed the cold compress to my forehead. She was right, it helped center me. I felt Sam begin to stand, and I grabbed ahold of him. "Wait." I whispered.

I opened my eyes to look at him, he looked so young with his hair in his eyes. "Distract me."

"Yeah, um, okay." He looked up at the ceiling. "When we were kids it was just us and Dad. Dad would leave for days at a time and so it always ended up being just Dean and I."

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on his words. Anything but the pain.

"He was a parent to me. He would cook me Mac and cheese in ways I didn't even know what was possible. One night he made it with marshmallows. I thought he was a genius."

I smiled and rubbed my belly. I could imagine him cooking marshmallow Mac and cheese for our daughter.

"He did everything to protect me. When I was a kid he would threaten to beat up the other kids if they were mean to me, even though I could take them myself. I was never too weird for him, or too nerdy. He was never embarrassed of me."

I felt a tear run down my cheek, and Sam caught it before it could fall.

"But it wasn't always sunshine. I was bald for two weeks because he put superglue in my conditioner. I had hair on my hands for over a week. It was horrible. He said men don't use conditioner." He shrugged. "I still use it now so I showed him. Well that started a massive prank war."

I smiled up at him, my eyes barely open enough to see his wide smile as he talked about his brother.

"I retaliated by injecting hot sauce into his condoms. Let me tell you that was an awkward trip to the ER."

My eyes widened. "What? Sam you could've killed them!"

He shrugged. "I was a sad, bald kid. I wanted vengeance."

"Please tell me that you have pictures."

"If there was they're burned now." Sam laughed. "I'm just happy Dad wasn't sentimental."

"How did Dean get you back?"

"Dad shut it down after the ER visit. I don't know what happened because he didn't talk to me about it. I think Dean took all the blame."

I frowned and sighed.

"You're doing better." He commented gently.

"I'm able to take deep breaths so I think you're right. Maybe I'm finally almost done."

It was like it was waiting for permission. Permission to finally start. For things to be real. For me to be happy. I reached between my legs and there the sucker was. I grinned widely. "Thank god."

Sam looked nauseous, and I couldn't help but laugh. "What's so funny?" He asked, uncomfortably.

"I was just thinking that you can see blood and guts, but birth makes you uncomfortable."

Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "I just don't like to see you in pain."

Sam

She had been at it for almost a day. It was Christmas Eve and suddenly I felt like we may have the best Christmas present.

"You know Christmas always sucked when I was a kid." She had one arm hooked in mine and the other on her belly. We were walking the halls trying to speed things up. Her blood pressure was still okay, and so there was no need for a c section, not yet. I was doing everything I could to keep her calm.

"What was it like?"

"Usually uneventful. Dad would give us some crappy gifts that he got at the gas station, if he even remembered, and then he would pass out drunk in front of the tv."

She glanced up at me, tightening her grip. "We will do things different for her, Sam. We will give her everything we never had."

We.

It felt weird, and almost wrong to be here. He should be the one walking with her, but he wasn't. He left me here to watch out for her. So why do I feel so guilty?

"Want to sit down?" I asked her, gesturing to the window seat.

"Yeah, sure." She said, out of breath. We sat down and she immediately went into a contraction. She squeezed my arm, and I breathed with her.

"You can do this."

"Whew." She said after a minute. "This sucks." She laughed dryly. "Wish Dean was here so I could just punch him for making me go through this."

"He would probably be drinking. He's a strong guy, but I doubt he could handle seeing this."

"You're probably right." She sounded sad as she stared at the window. "Maybe we should call Bobby and your dad. I don't want them to miss meeting her because of the storm."

I winced. I couldn't imagine Dad here. No matter how smitten he was with Ava, he was never the cuddly type. "I'll call them when we get back to the room."

"Okay." She exhaled. Ava met my eyes. "This is weird."

"It is." I admitted with a laugh. "You're right about that."

"You don't have to be here, Sam. I know your last name is Winchester, but that doesn't mean you owe us anything."

"I know." I said with a smile. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked outside at the snow. "It's not about owing you. You're my family. You and your baby. I will be here as long as you want me to be."

Ava grabbed for my arm and squeezed as she experienced another contraction. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. "Maybe we should go back to your room." I offered.

She nodded and when the contraction subsided she stood up shakily. We went to her room and she sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm gonna call Dad and Bobby and get them up here. Will you be okay for a few minutes?"

She nodded and gripped her knees, having another contraction.

I stepped into the hallway and dialed. "Dad."

"Sam? Is everything okay?"

"We are at the hospital. Ava is in labor and she asked for you. She's worried that you will get snowed out and won't be able to meet the baby."

He was silent on the line for almost a minute. "She wants me there?"

"You and Bobby." I said into the phone.

"I'll come."

"Really?"

"Yes, Son. I'll be there." Click.

———————

Dad and Bobby were in the waiting room.

"Do you want to see her?" I asked, greeting Dad and Bobby at the door.

They shook the snow off their coats.

"Son, have you ever been around woman giving birth before?" Dad asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Not until today."

Dad and Bobby laughed.

"We will leave you two to it." Dad shrugged. "You'll be a better man for it."

"Alright, Ava, you can start pushing, so let's get you in position." The doctor said, removing her fingers from Ava's cervix. I was pacing, facing away from her. My face was hot. It was going to be a long night. "Let's get her into position." She said to a nurse.

I glanced at Ava's face, she looked alarmed. "Hey," I said nodding to her. "You've got this."

She smiled at me weakly as they placed her feet in the stirrups.

I felt out of place, and suddenly I wished I was out there with Dad.

I made sure I was level with her head, but still far enough back to where I wouldn't interfere with the doctors. The room was busy with nurses. The OB settled between Ava's legs on a small stool. Ava had small wires attached to her stomach to measure her contractions and the baby's heartbeat.

When her contraction came and went the doctor leaned in. "Okay Ava push for me."

Ava gripped the sheets in her hands, and I watched her face turn red as she strained, rolling her whole body to help the little one out. I winced along with her, because I could tell she was in pain. She groaned out and closed her eyes.

"Good job, Ava. We will take a little break and do it again."

I gave her the thumbs up when she looked for me and she let a tear roll down her cheek. She didn't offer a smile back.

——————-

She had been pushing for an hour, with no avail. She was weak, and she stared blankly ahead of her.

"She's dropped down lower, Ava, just a few more times." The doctor promised gently.

"No." Ava whispered.

"Just try for me. I promise you will hold your baby any time now."

Ava shook her head. "No. I can't. I'm done."

"Sam can I talk to you?" The doctor asked.

We stepped outside. Her expression was serious, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips were in a line.

"If we cant get her to push in the next few minutes we will have to do an emergency C-section." The doctor said.

Shit. "I'll try to talk to her."

"I'm going to go ahead and get the room prepped in case you can't convince her. I'll be back in a few minutes."

What would Dean say? How would he convince her? She needs him. Fuck, I need my brother. What am I going to do?

I unclasped my necklace from my neck, and I walked back into the room. I tried to keep Dean with me in my mind.

"Ava." I said softly, walking to her.

She was silently crying, just staring past me.

"Hey talk to me." I whispered, crouching so I could meet her expression.

"I can't do this without him, Sam." Her voice was broken.

I took her hand, depositing his necklace into it. "He's here with you."

She opened her hand and stared at it. She shook her head and let out a single, broken sob. "No." She thrusted it back into my hand. "It's not the same, and you know it. I'm a 25 year old widow. My baby has no father. I have no husband." She was shaking, and holding her belly. "If she doesn't come out she doesn't have to see what I mess I am."

The doctor opened the door slowly, and walked in. She shook her head.

I can't fail Ava. I can't fail my niece.

"I'm falling apart, Sam. I can't hold myself together anymore. How can I be a mother if I'm in pieces?"

I looked around the room and then impulsively kicked off my shoes. "You don't have to hold yourself together. I'll do it for you." I said, moving the pillows behind her so I could slide in. I sat, with her between my legs. Her head rested on my chest and I took her hands in mine. "I'm here." I promised into her hair. "You can do this. I'll be here to hold you together. Can you try, she needs her mom. All she needs is you."

She turned and met my eyes and nodded. "Okay."

The doctor jumped into action, sitting back on her stool. "Okay Ava here comes another one... and push!"

She squeezed my hands, and I could feel her writhing against me. "Good job, Ava. You can do it." I whispered encouragements into her ear.

She nodded and pushed again.

"I see the head." The doctor said with relief. "Just a few more."

Head. Push. Shoulders. Push. And like a miracle there she was, covered in blood and goo, but still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Ava collapsed into me, and I wrapped my arms protectively. The doctor eyed me. "Do you want to cut the cord?"

I shook my head. "No." I buried my face in Ava's hair as she cried into my chest. She did it. It was amazing. "She's so beautiful." I told her as I watched the staff check her airways and measure her. I grabbed her chin in my fingers. "I'm so proud of you."

I could see it in her eyes, though, it wasn't my approval she needed. It was never mine.

 Ava

I was euphoric. Maybe it was all the hormones, or the pain medication. Maybe it was just the feeling of my daughter against my bare chest. Our daughter. Dean and mine.

The bracelet around her wrist stated baby girl Winchester. It meant she belonged to me. I ran my finger along her nose. It was a smaller version of mine. But those tiny lips were all her father. She was pouting already in her sleep. How would I ever say no to her? She was tiny but the doctor assured me that after a few days we would be able to take her home. All of the drugs that we had given her to grow worked just as planned. She was only five pounds, but her lungs were working fine.

Sam was giving me one on one time with her. To bond. I could tell from the moment he saw her that he loved her. I loved him for that.

My sweet baby yawned, her tiny tongue sticking out. My heart squeezed in my chest.

I knew what her name would be the moment Sam wrapped his arms around me. I knew what I was missing.

"Hey." Sam said, poking his head in. "I got you a smoothie."

"Thanks." I said. "You can come in. I have something I want to tell you."

He moved into the door, almost having to duck from his height. His hair was tussled and he looked tired. He even had his buttons done up wrong on his flannel. He was a trooper.

He sat the smoothie down next to me. "Hey little warrior." He said, touching her cheek. She yawned in response. "She's all tuckered out." He said in awe.

"I know what her name is."

He looked at me with excitement. "Really? What did you pick?"

"I thought it was just Dean I was missing." I said running my fingers down her bare back. "But you made me realize that there was something else wrong." I sucked in my breath. "I wanted my mom, Sam. She should've been here, but she wasn't. So... her name is Eleanor Mary Winchester. Eleanor for my mom and Mary for yours. The Grandmas that she will never meet."

—————

Chapter Four, Tell Me How to be in This World

Get caught up!

Tag List:

@xjamiedennettx

[redvsvblue]

Leave The Soul Alone

So the first part of this was inspired by “Bones” by MS MR (did you catch that lyrics title?), and, uh, I wanted to do something a little spookier for Halloween, hence - monster AU. They’re not any specific, named monsters/things, but feel free to ask if there’s any confusion about their properties/beings. Is OT6 but not focused on too much. Set in the FAHC AU. Doesn’t appear to have a fucking proper ending but I didn’t want to force one. 

Warnings: some semi-graphic? depictions of violence, uh, oh god I guess it also counts as body horror now, but it’s nothing particularly gory or gruesomely detailed. Ask if you have any concerns before reading - I’ll be happy to help! 

"We should get back."

"Yeah, okay." Jeremy cracks his wrist back into place and straightens his leg, glancing up at Ryan. "Aren't you gonna attach that?"

Ryan looks down at the arm he's holding, shrugging with his armless shoulder.

"It can wait," he says. "Needs a better joint anyway."

Jeremy rolls his eyes and Ryan rakes a hand through his hair, something creaking when he smiles.

"Dude, we need to oil you," Jeremy says, his bones cracking as he bends his fingers back to normal – Ryan helpfully kicks Jeremy's kneecap straight and Jeremy rolls his neck on his shoulders, frowning when he tests his jaw and finds it too loose.

Ryan swings the arm over his shoulder while Jeremy pushes his jaw back into place, grinning when his teeth click together. There's a dent in Ryan's side – but nothing that won't buff out, as he likes to say. The panel at the back of his neck swings open and Jeremy reaches forward to close it, pushing on the stubborn latch until it locks.

"You think Gavin's around?" Ryan asks, his neck creaking as he looks up at the high ceilings of the chapel.

"Probably," Jeremy says with a shrug, stepping over a body and leaning over to pick up its baseball bat.

"I'm right here, you bastards," Gavin says, fading into sight above them, floating backwards as he crosses his arms and frowns at them.

"Oh good," Ryan teases. "Thought you'd bailed."

Gavin scoffs and Ryan spits oil to the side before grinning back up at him. Jeremy rests the bat on his shoulders and wipes blood from his split lip as he follows Ryan and Gavin out of the church.

Ryan strides casually over to the sleek blue car, waving cheerfully with his detached arm – Gavin floats past them and his breeze ruffles Jeremy's hair and clothes, colder and sharper than the midnight air. The moon shines high above, casting eerie shadows behind them – or none at all, in Gavin’s case, merely falling on trampled, forgotten grass and eroded statues.

Ryan pulls open the back door and slides in beside Gavin's body, thumping it playfully on the knee as Jeremy folds himself in and closes the door. He accidentally disjoints his ankle with his fidgeting and twists it back into place before stashing the bat in the footwell.

"Thought you'd never get here," Jack says, lifting her eyes to them in the rearview mirror with a smile that has too many teeth. She taps the steering wheel as she rolls away from the scene, humming cheerfully. The parts of her shrouded in shadow appear gaunt and thin – from the corner of Jeremy’s eye they look like pure skeleton, but when he turns his head to face them they’re flesh once more.

Ryan rubs a thumb over his dented cheek and slides his fingers inside his mouth to pop it out, wiping artificial spit on his shirt afterwards. He winks at Jeremy. Jeremy rolls his eyes.

Gavin jerks awake with a huge breath, colour rushing to his skin as he coughs and thumps his chest, shaking his head to focus himself – he blinks until he regains his bearings, glancing around the car and bracing an elbow on his knee as he rubs his temple.

"Welcome back," Ryan says, laying his arm over Gavin's lap and lifting up his own shirt to flip open a panel and fiddle with a few disconnected wires. Jeremy fixes his ankle again and Gavin slumps back into his seat with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He shoves the arm back onto Ryan’s lap and Jeremy plays idly with the wires poking out at the joint, twisting them into random shapes as Jack drives.

“Michael hasn’t responded to me,” Gavin says with a frown, peering down at his phone.

“He’s just pissed he couldn’t come in the church,” Jeremy scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s fine.”

“They have anything good?” Jack asks, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. They round a sharp corner and the bat falls onto Jeremy’s foot. He kicks it idly.

“Nah,” Ryan says, closing his panel and tugging down his shirt. “Although they won’t be arms dealing again.”

Jeremy shrugs and murmurs in agreement, wiping at his lip.

The tired silence is broken by Gavin’s startled shriek, his phone clattering into the footwell as he shoves at Ryan’s detached arm.

“It’s cold!” He exclaims, batting it away when Ryan waves it at him, brushing immobile fingers over his neck to make Gavin squeak and flinch again.

“Gav, you’re literally dead,” Jeremy deadpans. He laughs when Ryan slaps at Gavin’s hand with the disconnected arm in a poor facsimile of a high-five.

“Yeah, well, I still don’t want Ryan’s bloody – metal things pokin’ at me!” He squeals, smacking Ryan’s arm and jumping when it jabs at him.

“Metal things? I’m offended, Gavin,” Ryan teases.

“Oh, shut up, you know what I mean.”

“At least it’s not his metal dick,” Jack chimes in – Gavin giggles at the thought and Ryan merely turns his arm to Jack, prodding at her elbow from the backseat.

“You know perfectly well I don’t have a metal dick,” Ryan says, smiling at Gavin’s hiccoughing laughter.

“Dickless,” Jeremy adds. Ryan kicks his ankle out of place.

“Didn’t hear you complaining,” he bites back with a lewd grin.

“Fuckin’ - yeah, you’re not wrong,” Jeremy concedes, lifting his hands in surrender. Jack laughs and the disembodied arm pets clumsily at Jeremy’s cheek.

-- 

“Hey Gav,” a rough, dark voice growls, rumbling and as deep as the depths of hell themselves.

Gavin perks up and spins around from where they’re unpacking the boot, opening his arms wide.

“Michael!” He chirps cheerfully – Michael’s face splits into a crooked grin and the hellfire disappears from his aura, fading back to nothing as he drops the few inches from floating to earth.

“How’d it go?” Michael, asks in his normal voice, pulling Gavin in for a one-armed hug and keeping his arm over his shoulders as he inspects the boot. “Any good shit?”

“Nothin’,” Jeremy replies, tossing the bat over behind Jack’s back – Michael catches it neatly, eying the deep scratches marks on it. “They were useless.”

“Fun to beat up, though,” Ryan rasps. He coughs and spits more oil to the side. “You’d’ve liked them. Real rough ‘n tumble guys.” More oil.

“Dude, you sure you all right there?” Jeremy asks, slapping Ryan’s chest when he coughs again. “Sounds like your lungs got bashed up.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan says, running a hand over his throat. “Just need a discharge.”

“Here, those need to be cleaned,” Jack instructs, handing over a couple of SMGs to Jeremy. “And these.” She hands bloody pistols to Michael.

“Let’s go, boi,” Gavin says, grabbing a handful of knives and turning to go, Michael with him – Jeremy picks up some more guns and Ryan gathers the heaviest in his good arm, bending the elbow of his disconnected one so he can wear it around his shoulders like a metal snake. Jack picks up the last of the stuff and slams the boot closed, locking it while Jeremy and Ryan saunter away after Michael and Gavin.

“Y’think Geoff fixed his TV yet?” Jeremy asks, glancing up at Ryan.

“I don’t think he can,” Ryan says with a laugh. “He can barely uncross my wires.”

“You’re more complicated than a TV, Ryan.”

“Aw, are you calling me complex? That’s sweet, Jeremy.”

“Jeremy’s flirting with Ryan again!” Michael hollers from ahead of them, kicking open the garage door and tugging Gavin through.

“Michael’s touching Gavin’s ass again!” Jeremy hollers back – Michael’s hand immediately slips up to Gavin’s spine and they all laugh.

“Do I hear my favourite little devils?!” Comes a shout from the kitchen.

“Only one of us is a devil,” Jeremy calls back, dropping his load on the table with the other dirty equipment.

“I’m not a devil,” Michael grumbles.

“Isn’t it the same thing?” Gavin asks. “Y’know, devil and demon?”

“No, it isn’t – for fuck’s sake, Gav, how many times do I have to explain this to you?” And they bicker as they drop guns and head into the kitchen. Ryan sets his arm down beside a minigun and Jeremy quietly reaches forward to curl the fingers and straighten out the middle one – Ryan chuckles and bends the wrist so his arm is flipping off anyone who enters through the kitchen door.

Geoff’s standing over a bubbling pot of vegetables when Jeremy and Ryan and Jack wander in, stirring with a wooden spoon as Michael and Gavin chat beside him. Geoff grins broadly at them and pecks at Jack’s cheek when she brushes past him to the fridge – she smiles and squeezes his shoulder before she tugs the door open.

“How was it?” Geoff asks, glancing up at Jeremy and Ryan.

“It was good, yeah,” Jeremy says, crossing his arms and leaning them on the counter. Ryan coughs wetly behind him and turns to spit into the bin. Jeremy jerks a thumb at him over his shoulder. “Ryan needs a discharge.”

“Yeah, I could use one of those, too,” Geoff sighs, waggling his eyebrows at Jeremy’s laugh. Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Not that kind, Geoff,” he says. Geoff snickers and takes out his spoon to put a lid on the pot before pressing his fingers to Jeremy’s jaw and tilting it up to inspect him, frowning when he sees the split lip and the purple bruise colouring up the left side of his neck.

Geoff rubs his thumb over Jeremy’s lower lip and leans down to kiss him gently, first on the lips and then on his bruised neck – Jeremy feels his lip heal together again and then dull ache of the bruise fades, cleared by Geoff’s magic.

“What about me?” Ryan says, hooking his one arm over Jeremy’s shoulder to dangle over his front.

“Doesn’t work on you,” Geoff says, an amused grin ticking up the corner of his mouth. Ryan pouts and Geoff laughs again, leaning in to brush his lips over the bolt of Ryan’s jaw nonetheless.

Ryan rests his chin on Jeremy’s head when Geoff pulls back – a moment later Gavin’s head is wriggling up under Geoff’s armpit and Geoff laughs brightly, immediately clamping his arm around Gavin’s neck and knuckling his head. Gavin yelps and the rest of them break into loud laughter, echoing off of the kitchen tiles and out of the open windows, only interrupted by the angry boiling of the vegetables and Ryan’s short choking fit.

-- 

“I don’t think you wanna do that, buddy,” Jeremy says, deliberately opening and closing his fingers on the grip of the bat hefted on his shoulder.

The guy spits blood at them and grins crookedly despite the messy cuts pressed into his jaw, blood and saliva trickling down to drip off his chin. Michael snarls and rubs his thumb over his bloody brass knuckles, lifting them again in a clear threat.

“Where are they?” Michael growls, his eyes ablaze with unholy fire, his voice too rough-edged to be human.

“None of your fucking business,” the guy snaps, cracking his knuckles.

“Wrong answer,” Jeremy says, clicking his tongue in disappointment. Michael steps up inhumanly fast and swings again, sharp and hard – the guy staggers back, clutching his jaw and seething at them, blood welling up in his mouth and leaking down over his fingers. Michael’s fist connects once more with a wet crunch and the guy crumples to the ground with a shout, pressing clumsily over his broken nose.

“Where. Are. They?” Michael spits, looming over him.

“None...of...your...business,” the guy pants, laughing weakly.

“Y’know, Robbie, we would have let you go,” Jeremy says calmly, dragging the bat down to rest it on the ground. “If you just told us where the girls are.”

“Liar.”

“No, really, we would have.” They wouldn’t have.

“Hurry it up in there!” Ryan calls from the entrance to the alleyway. “We got a schedule to keep!”

Michael glances back at Jeremy and the heat of hellfire rises around them, the air hot and crackling against Jeremy’s neck. Jeremy nods, smirking when Michael’s aura flickers with violent flame.

Michael grins back and turns to deal with Robbie – Jeremy spins on his heel and walks out towards Ryan, whistling cheerfully as blows land behind him.

“Nothin’?” Ryan asks, stubbing his cigarette out against the wall.

“Nope.”

“Shame.” Ryan glances over at Michael and Robbie and hums quietly. “He’d have been a good rat.”

“Too late. When’s Gavin getting here?”

“Five minutes.”

-- 

Jeremy gets decked in the face and he goes down hard, his jaw dislocated immediately and his head smacking against the ground – the thug steps up to stand over him, snarling as he raises a boot. Jeremy roughly pushes his jaw back into place and just before the boot comes down a metal hand curls in the guy’s shirt, wrenching him to face Ryan, who punches him in the face and pushes him to the side, offering his other hand to Jeremy.

Jeremy wipes blood from his chin and is about to thank Ryan when another guy rushes up behind Ryan – before Jeremy can say anything the guy stabs a knife into Ryan’s shoulder and there’s a brief, breathless moment where Ryan jerks and the guy grins triumphantly. Idiot.

Ryan slowly, slowly reaches back to pull out the knife, whirling around and plunging it into the guy’s neck with a grunt. He yanks it out again and the guy collapses to the floor like a sack of potatoes, blood gurgling out of his torn neck.

“Asshole,” Ryan spits, twisting to inspect his shoulder. “I just got a new one.”

A hail of bullets pulls them from their moment and Jeremy drops with Ryan, both of them flattening their fronts against the cold concrete. Ryan glances over at the low wall, at the gang shouting behind it, and back to Jeremy.

“Got any grenades?” Jeremy asks. Ryan frowns and shakes his head – then pauses. Narrows his eyes.

“I can make one,” he says. Jeremy furrows his brow in question and Ryan scoots closer, shifting to tug up his shirt and unlatching a small panel.

“Give me your hand,” he orders. Jeremy circles his fingers around his wrist and gestures questioningly – Ryan nods and Jeremy pops his wrist out of the socket and hands his hand to Ryan, the joint loose and free under the skin. Ryan guides him to the opening and Jeremy wriggles his hand in, his wrist pinched uncomfortably tight between Ryan’s hard insides and the metal casing of his torso – it wouldn’t fit if the bone wasn’t disconnected.

“The second battery,” Ryan says – Jeremy digs his hand further in and closes his fingers around a hot cylinder, pulling experimentally. Ryan shakes his head and Jeremy squeezes his fingers in deeper to find the second, smaller battery, securing a grip around it and tugging to let Ryan know he’s about to pull. It’s slick and slippery with oil, sticky to the touch and hard to grip properly.

Ryan nods and Jeremy rips the battery from its wires – Ryan hisses but stays helpfully still, gently guiding Jeremy’s arm out as Jeremy navigates the battery between burning metal and sparking wires. He manages to wiggle the battery out through the tight squeeze – something bends in Ryan and a few of Jeremy’s fingers disjoint but he manages to pull it out, his skin badly singed, dangerous red welts rising on his wrist and forearm. He’s sure it would hurt like a bitch if he could actually feel it.

Jeremy pops his fingers and wrist back into place while Ryan snaps his panel closed and rolls onto his front again. He bashes the battery against the ground, suddenly, smashing it against concrete until it lets out a sharp hiss.

Ryan cracks a grin and flips the battery in his hand, his own oil sliding down his fingers and dripping to the floor between them.

“Am I gonna have to run?” Jeremy sighs, wiping his fingers on his shirt. Ryan shrugs.

“Probably a good idea,” he says nonchalantly, and abruptly rolls over onto his ass, dragging his feet up to get ready to stand – Jeremy hurriedly pushes himself up to kneeling and Ryan flashes him another grin before hollering hey cunts! and tossing the grenade over the wall.

The bullets stop.

There’s a moment of silence. Two.

Ryan scrambles to get up and Jeremy follows, breaking into a sprint when the battery-turned-grenade explodes behind them, the wall cracking into concrete chunks and some grosser, bloodier chunks flying along with it – Jeremy steadfastly ignores those and runs for his fucking life as the bullets start up again in the smoky chaos, ricocheting off of the ground and pinging off of the walls around them.

They race out of the garage and erupt into a similarly chaotic street – the Fakes at one end holding down the truck and Bone at the other, trying to retrieve said truck. Ryan crouches behind a pillar and Jeremy presses himself flat to another.  

“Where’d you need us, Geoff?” Ryan asks over the comm hardwired into him.

“Need you to pin those two assholes down,” Geoff grunts in reply – Jeremy looks over to see him ducking and reloading behind the truck while Gavin and Lindsay hurry the girls out of the back.

“Which ones?” Jeremy asks. Jack laughs.

“There’s two driving around in Kurumas,” Geoff says. “Keep tryin’ to crash into us. Michael’s been chasing them down but he can’t get both.”

“ - motherfuckers!” Michael’s voice bursts through static and he growls, tyres squealing loudly in his background. “Fuckin’ assholes, I just got this repainted!”

“There’s two Adders just behind the bank,” Trevor says calmly. “Round ‘em up, boys.”

“Yessir,” Jeremy jokes – Ryan laughs at his little salute.

“Michael,” Ryan says, and waits for an answer. There isn’t one save for the rumble of turbo.

“His piece’s shot,” Gavin says. “Probably when he decided to try his fireball approach.”

“I mean, it worked, it took out the first two drivers.”

“Yeah, but now he can’t bloody hear us, Jack.”

Jeremy gestures to Ryan to go and they get out of the main street as fast as they can, winding into an alleyway and jogging to the bank.

“Hey!” Someone hollers – Jeremy looks up and Alfredo drops two sets of keys down from the roof; Ryan catches them easily and yells back a thanks as Alfredo puts his hood back up and shifts away in a blur of colour.

“Oh my god,” Ryan says when they see the cars.

“Hey, Trev?” Jeremy says.

“Yeah?”

“Love you, buddy.”

“Thought you’d appreciate it.”

Ryan tosses him his keys and Jeremy gleefully unlocks the Kurimmy while Ryan slides into his plain (boring) black one – although Jeremy knows from personal experience that that thing’s engine is way too overpowered to be even remotely safe – and the twin rumble of their engines brings a wild grin to Jeremy’s face.

“Ready?”

“You fuckin’ bet.”

[mystical-flute]

Once Upon a Dream Chapter 17

Emma paled and scrambled behind a rock away from the flames as the dragon let them burst forth. There was a dragon in front of her. A real, actual giant dragon that breathed fire. Something that she only ever saw in cartoons.

"Cartoons…" she whispered, peeking out from behind a rock as she took in the dragon's form. Black as night, but there was a glowing spot on her stomach that reminded her of a dragon from a very familiar movie.

 "MALEFICENT!" she shouted. "Please! I don't want to hurt you!"

 In her, Gold's voice echoed in her mind. Whatever it was she needed to get, it was inside of her. There had to be a way for her to get the… whatever out of her without having to hurt her, right?

 The dragon growled a little as it hovered over her, seemingly interested in what she had to say.

 "I need the thing inside of you. Whatever it was Rumplestiltskin wanted you to keep safe!" she called. "It may be the only way to save my son!"

 Then the dragon paused… and began to cough, trying to hack up the thing inside of her.

 She winced as something eventually clattered to the ground, and peeked out from behind her safe stone. On the ground in front of her lay a golden egg. How could that have survived inside a dragon for God knows how long?

 Maleficent let out a soft growl, falling to her knees and, to Emma's horror, beginning to shrink. No, Emma realized suddenly. She was changing forms, and suddenly there was a very human-looking Maleficent laying on the cavern floor, groaning.

 "Are… are you okay?" Emma asked as she slowly came out from behind her hiding spot and lifted the egg up before going over to the dragon.

 "Yes… I – I think so. I just haven't had my human form since Regina cast her curse. I just feel a bit weak," the woman replied, grabbing on to Emma's hand and slowly pulling herself up, looking at Emma curiously. "You're their daughter."

 Emma wrapped an arm around Maleficent's side, helping her as they walked back to the elevator. "What? Who?" she asked.

 "Snow and David, of course… you're heroic, just like them. Even though I'm supposed to be a villain, you still helped me… and even wanted to get that egg out of me without harming me." the woman said. "Besides, you have your mother's chin."

 Emma's grip tightened on her. "Yeah. That."

 Maleficent frowned. "Oh, I see. You don't believe it."

 "I do," Emma said as the elevator started going up. "It's just a lot to process considering my son is currently laying in a hospital room possibly dying and I just had to go get a golden egg out of a dragon."

 "What happened to your son?"

 She sighed. "He was poisoned. Or cursed. Ate an apple turnover and passed out."

 "A sleeping curse."

 Emma nodded. "Yes."

 "Well… were you doing down there for?" Maleficent asked, frowning in confusion. "Not that I'm ungrateful that you saved me. The only way to break a sleeping curse is true love's kiss. I don't know who sent you down there but – "

 The elevator stopped, and Gold stood on the other side of the gate.

 "Oh. Of course. Hello Rumplestiltskin."

 "Maleficent. You're still alive. How impressive."

 "Oh let's be honest, Rumplestiltskin. If you really wanted me dead, you wouldn't have sent Snow and David's daughter to retrieve that egg inside of me. You called her The Savior for a reason."

 Emma, meanwhile, could only stare between the two childhood characters. Maleficent knew her parents. And Rumplestiltskin was Neal's father. Which meant… Neal was… Neal was from that place too.

 She closed her eyes, trying to process what was happening. She was fairy tale royalty, and her son's father was the son of Rumplestiltskin. Okay. Right.

 "I need… I need to get back to the hospital," Emma stammered, leaving the library and taking a deep breath.

 Henry was still in the hospital, possibly dying because of some sort of poison… or curse. Something the doctor's couldn't seem to figure out. But Maleficent had. Immediately. True love's kiss. It was desperate but apparently this curse was real and there may have been no other way to save Henry.

 Bursting into the room, she felt sick all over again, seeing the ten year old hooked up to wires and machines that were beeping menacingly. Regina and Neal were in the room of course, but she couldn't bring herself to look at them yet as she bent down next to her son.

 "God… Henry, I'm so sorry it took me so long, but I did it. I believe you. You were right all along and instead of celebrating, you're under this curse… well, I think I know how to break it. And if I'm wrong… oh God if I'm wrong then I'm so sorry. And I hope you know how much I – I love you Henry," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

 A burst of light exploded from the pair of them and there was one beat… then two… and then Henry finally opened his eyes and took a deep breath, sitting up on the bed.

 "Henry!" she cried in relief, tears pouring down her face.

 "You did it. You actually did it…" Regina said, stunned as she slowly made her way to the bed.

 "If I were you, your majesty, I'd find a place to hide," Dr. Whale said, his eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm sure there are lots of people that'll be interested in your head on a platter."

 Regina's nostrils flared, and Emma could see the Evil Queen persona beginning to shine through as Daphne stepped closer. "Some of you should thank me. Especially you, Miss Gale. Because I, unlike you, actually have my sister contained," Regina sneered before turning to Henry. "Henry… no matter what anyone may say, I do love you…"

 And with that, Regina fled from the room.

 Emma took a deep breath as Neal rushed over to the bed and pulled the ten year old close.

 "So… what was it that Regina meant by containing her sister?" Emma asked Daphne with a frown.

 "In this world she's known as the Wicked Witch of the West. We've been trying to take her down for years. I didn't realize Regina had managed to trap her during the curse," Daphne replied as she ran out of the room.

 Emma blinked. "O-kay… okay c'mon kid, let's get out of here."

 She hated hospitals.

 Henry nodded and climbed off the bed as Neal tossed him his clothes, and the trio was on their way into town, where chaos seemed to be running wild.

 "What's going on?" Emma asked, her eyes wide.

 "Everyone's trying to find their families," Neal replied as they rounded a corner.

 "So what do we do now?" she heard Ruby say.

 "Now… now I find my daughter."

 Emma froze at the voice. It was Mary-Margaret but… it was different. More confident and sure of what needed to be done.

 "So it's true," she managed to say as she stared in awe of her parents. Her parents.

 They turned and stared in awe of her, and Emma saw written on their faces the look she had been waiting twenty-eight years to see. The face of love and devotion… and yet there was pain. The pain of everything they'd missed – more so on her mother than on her father.

 "You found us…" her mother choked out, cupping Emma's face with delicate fingers before pulling her close. She felt her father join in the hug, cupping the back of her head gently and Emma felt the dam break, letting out her own flood of tears. Tears of joy, of pain, of relief, of shock. She'd found her parents, and they'd loved her from the beginning. Had wanted her.

 "I just can't believe it was all real," she sobbed. She hadn't allowed herself to cry like this in years, and now she could cry to her parents and they wouldn't hat her for it.

 She pulled away, looking between them. "Sorry. I just…"

 Mary-Margaret shook her head. "You have nothing to apologize for."

 "Grandpa?" came Henry's small voice from behind her.

 "Yes Henry?" her father asked. Emma realized he sounded way too casual with being called a grandfather.

 "Are you gonna tell them how long you've known for?"

 Mary-Margaret frowned. "What? Charming, what is he talking about?"

 He sighed, looking between the two women. "I've actually had my memories back since – "

 Emma stared as she realized. "The day I told Neal about Henry being his son. You were sitting in the back room resting because your memories had come back. But it was your memories of your fairy tale life."

 He nodded slowly. "Yes."

 "Huh. I can't imagine how hard that was for you…"

 David smiled a little and wrapped an arm around Mary-Margaret's shoulder as the group began walking down the street. "It was worth it."

 "YOUR MAJESTIES!" Archie suddenly cried, running up to them nervously. "Your majesties I hate to bother you but there's a group going after Regina. They – they say they're going to kill her!"

 "Great," Leroy grumbled. "Let's watch."

 "No, we are not going to watch," Emma said sharply. "She still owes us answers and there's no way we can get those answers if she's dead."

 "And she's still my mom," Henry added. "I know she did all of those bad things but – "

 "Fine," Leroy sighed as everyone began running toward Regina's house, a large group of angry citizens standing in front of the door, led by Whale. Regina was pinned to the front door.

 "Hey – hey! No! We are not doing this!" Emma shouted, pushing her way forward with Henry and her parents. "We are not killing her!"

 "We don't belong in this land. We shouldn't have to listen to you," Whale snarled.

 "Yeah well while you're in it, I'm still the sheriff here. We are not killing her."

 The crowd began to grumble their discontent with the answer, and her mother stepped forward.

 "Listen up! There are still answers we need, and the most important should be how to get back to our land. Instead of killing her, she needs to be locked up. For her safety, but more importantly for ours," she said in a tone that Emma had never heard from the meek schoolteacher. "We will take her away. Kingdom leaders, meet us at the Town Hall in an hour. We'll hold a meeting at six for everyone else. In the meantime… find your friends and loved ones. Reunite with them. We'll see you later."

 Emma pulled out her handcuffs and secured them around Regina's wrists as David started leading her away from the mansion, the angry mob beginning to disperse.

 "So I'm a prisoner now?" Regina sneered as the heavy jail door closed behind her. "You should remember how well that worked out for you last time."

 "The curse is broken. Why didn't we go back?" her father asked sharply.

 "There was nothing built into the curse about taking us back to the Enchanted Forest," Regina said. "And I wasn't strong enough to alter it beyond the cursed personas you had. But perhaps it's for the best that we aren't back there."

 "Why?" Emma asked with a frown.

 Regina sighed, slumping onto the bed. "Because… there is a group of dark magic users there that want to reverse the laws of magic. And they're working together to try to achieve it. If we go back there that means the group will be restored, and all of the magical devices that Rumplestiltskin has in his shop can be used against you… well – us. I turned them down when they asked me to join."

 "Why would you do that?"

 The woman scoffed. "Because I know a losing battle when I see it. Besides… I thought the curse would be enough to contain her."

 "Maleficent?"

 "No. Zelena. My sister. She's… I guess you could call her the leader of this merry band of dark magic users. But she started stirring the prison I set up for her here before the curse broke." Regina looked a bit rattled at the mention of it. "I'm just glad there's no magic here or we'd be in real trouble."

 "I hate to be a downer but… we might be in trouble," Neal suddenly said from the doorway. "There's purple smoke heading this way."

 Regina's eyes widened and she leaned toward the window to see. "Your father has no idea what he's unleashing, Mr. Cassidy."

 But Neal shook his head and stepped toward Henry as the smoke blew closer to the station. "Actually Regina… I think he knows exactly what he's doing."

 They huddled together as the smoke began to creep into the room, surrounding them with a breeze that felt unnatural. But as quickly as it came, it was gone, and nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

 She caught Regina's eyes, seeing a slight bit of a smirk on her face as the former queen looked at Mary-Margaret and David.

 "Well Snow, Charming. Looks like you both finally caught me. I guess you'd better get to your meeting with the other kingdom rulers," Regina said, far too casually as she sat regally on the prison bed.

 David didn't seem to buy it. "What was that smoke?"

 "Nothing you need to worry about," Regina said with a shrug.

 "It was magic," Neal answered. "Trust me, I've been around it enough to know what the air feels like with it buzzing in the air. My father brought magic back."

 Mary-Margaret paled, David tensed, his hand tightening on his wife's back as both looked at Regina.

 Henry suddenly seemed to understand what was going on, eyes turning to his mother.

 "Mom… don't."

 Regina's eyes widened. "Don't what, Henry?"

 "Don't hurt anyone just because you have magic back. Don't turn back into the Evil Queen. Please…" he asked, his dark eyes wide with concern.

 Regina let out a sigh. "Henry, I don't want to hurt anyone, but you are my son and – "

 "And I'm also Emma and Neal's son… Mary-Margaret and David's grandson. That's not an excuse to use your magic for evil. Please… don't hurt anyone in Storybrooke just because you have magic again," Henry said, biting his lip.

 The mayor looked at him, conflict reading clear in her gaze. "Okay Henry. I promise I won't hurt anyone."

 The boy smiled. "Thank you."

 "Now go. All of you. I imagine the town is in a state of panic over the smoke."

 Neal looked toward the others. "I'll meet you guys at the Town Hall. I'm going to go talk to my father. God knows he won't show up without me telling him to."

 "Thank you Neal," David said. "Come on…"

 Emma glanced back at Neal once before following her parents and Henry out of the station.

 -----

 "Come on Papa… pick up," Neal muttered under his breath as he held his phone to his ear as people filed into the town hall for the meeting. He had no idea where his father could have gone, having been searching for an hour. He wasn't in any of his usual hiding spots, which was a cause of concern.

 "Bae, there you are. Shall we go inside for the meeting?" his father asked from behind him.

 "Uh… yeah. You actually showed up without me asking you to?" Neal replied, dumbfounded.

 Slight laughter escaped his father. "Yes. Of course I did. Why wouldn't I be here? The people need an explanation as to what happened, don't they?"

 Neal blinked in confusion. "You want to actually help people figure out what's going on?" Who was this man and what had he done with his father?

 His father only shrugged. "With what those people are planning, I wouldn't dare keep it hidden for even the sweetest of deals. Even though most of this town fears me, I wouldn't wish these things on anyone. Even Regina."

 Neal frowned as they were led inside the town hall for the meeting. "Regina told us about them. What have you seen, Papa?"

 "The final battle," his father explained, stepping up to the podium during the meeting after King Arthur asked the same question. I don't know how it will end but it will lead to the downfall of either the Dark Royals or… for the rest of us."

 The color drained from Neal's face, the air leaving the room as the people of Storybrooke tried to process the answer.

 "So – so what do we do? Regina said there's a group of magic users out there trying to do whatever it is they're planning, but there aren't many magic users in Storybrooke, are there? How can we protect the town?" Snow asked, shaken.

 Rumplestiltskin nodded. "This is true, dearie. But there are other magic users out in the world that can help that managed to find other ways here. Ways that I was not allowed to use. But there is hope out there… we just need to find them."

 "How?" Snow pressed.

 "If I recall, our town sheriff was once someone who knew how to find people…"

 Emma nodded slowly, squirming under the eyes of the entire town trained on her. "Okay – uh. If anyone can think of someone that might be out there somewhere let me know and I'll do my best to find them."

 The smile on his father's face jolted him back to his childhood, and he wasn't sure he liked it. "Thank you Miss Swan. This is me cashing in on the favor you owe me."

 "What do you suggest for the rest of the town then, Rumplestiltskin?" Prince Thomas then asked.

 "For now… all I can suggest is to find your loved ones and keep living your life as we have been. We have a bit of time before the battle reaches its fever pitch. I'm afraid that is all I know," his father replied, giving the room an apologetic glance.

 Nervous murmurs erupted from the audience, but the majority were nodding in agreement. Neal wasn't sure what to make of the news himself as his father stepped down from the podium. He had to admit, he was proud of his father for doing this instead of just leaving people to be caught by surprise.

 "Bae, my boy. You should go be with your son," his father said as he hobbled back over to him. "We don't know how long we – "

 "Rumple, is there really a chance that we could die?" a woman's voice asked.

 Neal blinked, seeing a younger woman – probably around his physical age actually – standing behind  him. She was looking at his father like she was in love with him, and it was baffling to him.

 "Yes Belle, I'm afraid so. But we have each other. And there's someone I want you to meet. Belle… this is Baelfire. My son. Bae, this is Belle. She was my housekeeper in the Enchanted Forest."

 "More than that," the woman replied, patting his shoulder and smiling at Neal. "It's so nice to meet you Baelfire. You father had told me so much about you."

 He looked at the way the woman was leaning into his father, his arm wrapped protectively around Belle's waist. His gaze was softer, and Neal realized with alarm that his father must have been in love with this woman.

 Neal exhaled. "You're my father's girlfriend," he finally said.

 "I suppose that's a fair assumption," the woman said in agreement, shrugging at him casually.

 Neal sighed. "Okay. Guess we have to go tell Henry about another new family member."

 They found Henry with the Charmings in the small apartment above the bookstore. Snow and Charming had known of Belle – Charming hadn't lived too far from their castle and Snow had been acquainted with the family long before curses and deals and Evil Queens.

 The awkward family was just sitting down to dinner when there was another knock on the door. Neal inwardly groaned, hoping that it wasn't another wayward family member coming to find them.

 Instead, it was Maleficent.

 "I have someone I want you to find," the woman explained as Emma opened the door. "My daughter. Lily."

 Emma let Maleficent in and nodded. "Okay. You lost her when you were a baby, right? That's what Henry's book said. So it's going to be hard without any identifying marks or – "

 "But she has one. She has a star on her wrist. It was a mark she was born with - it's meant to symbolize how she'll always find home."

 Neal saw Emma blanch and frowned. "Emma… what's wrong?"

 "I know your daughter," Emma whispered, looking at Maleficent. "I know exactly who she is."

 "You do? Where is she?"

 "I – I don't know. I haven't seen her in about twelve years, but I promise, she'll be the first person I track down once I get more people to find."

 "Cruella and Ursula too," her father said. "They made it here too, right?"

 Maleficent nodded. "Yes. They had. I was the only one that didn't."

 The look on Emma's face was twisting into disbelief and discomfort, so Neal stood. "Hey Emma – I left something in my car that I meant to give to you when I got here earlier. With all the excitement I'd completely forgotten about it. Why don't we go get it?"

 He noted the look of relief on her face as they made their way outside.

 "You alright?" he asked.

 "I'm just overwhelmed with… well, everything. It doesn't seem to be stopping. Now I have to go find a bunch of magical people? And not only that, but the two people I considered to be my closest friends and first love in my life are also from this fairy tale world?" Emma said.

 He nodded slowly. "I know. I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you before. You're the first person I trusted in this world too. But I couldn't. You wouldn't have believed me."

 She smiled with a scoff. "True. I wouldn't have."

 "I really am sorry, Emma. For everything."

 "I know… and I forgive you. But there's one thing that's still bothering me."

 "What's that?"

 "Where's August? I didn't see him at the town meeting and he'd said he would be here before everything kinda… exploded."

 Neal inhaled sharply. "I think I know where he is. Come with me."

 He drove quickly to the bed and breakfast, and the duo rushed up to August's room.

 "August? You in there?" Emma called.

 "Emma… yes, I'm in here," came August's voice.

 Neal wiggled the door handle, finding it locked. "Unlock the door, August."

 "I can't."

 Neal paled as Emma brought her foot up to break down the door, and as they entered the room, they saw the answer to their questions.

 August, half-sitting up on the bed, was made almost entirely of wood.

 Emma caught on immediately. "Pinocchio."

[miraculouspaon]

Where Have All The Heroes Gone And Where Are All The Gods?

Chapter Thirty-Six: Prisoner Oh-Three-Eight

AO3

Seven reached over and grabbed One right before she walked over the edge of a cliff. “And that's you dead,” she said, in an irreverent singsong that did little to mask her disappointment.

One opened her eyes and looked down. “Damn,” she muttered. She glanced quickly behind them and made sure the guards hadn't noticed anything. They were escorting One and Seven down to the dock for cleaning duty but were lagging far behind, uninterested in the prisoners’ conversation. One was using the opportunity to practice making her way from the prison to the boat in pitch-black darkness. “Well, if the guards weren't around I wouldn't have to walk so fast, I could-”

“Nope,” Seven interrupted, as they started to make their way down the treacherous path to the dock. “You have ten minutes to get from the prison to the boat once we break you out. This is how fast you have to move and you know it. You're not ready.”

“I am never going to be more ready,” One muttered. “Postponing at this stage is idiotic.”

“What is the point of busting you out if you're just going to break your neck a hundred meters from the walls?”

One kicked a rock over the side of the path as they made their way down. It sailed over the side, bouncing violently against the cliff edges below them. She sighed. “We’ve been here too long as it is,” One said.

Seven ruffled her hair. “You think all kids your age are impatient, or just you?”

One pushed Seven’s hand away but smiled despite herself. Not for the first time, she wondered if Seven had a little sister back in her old life. She was only six or so years older than One, as far as anybody could tell. It wasn't impossible that she had a sister One’s age, and she seemed more comfortable teasing One than any of the other prisoners.

They'd never find out if they didn't put the escape plan into action, that was for sure.

~~~

Oh-Two-Three leaned casually against the fence separating the two courtyards and waited patiently.

“Yes?”

Three glanced to her left, at the man leaning up against the opposite side of the fence. He’d annoyed her at first, with his insistence on leaders and separation, and his obvious irritation whenever any of the prisoners tried to make the most of their horrifying situation. But as the months had passed, as the days grew colder and shorter, as progress on the escape plan slowed to a crawl, Three found she had a recent appreciation for Five-Two-One’s attitude.

“The radio,” she began. Five-Two-One rolled his eyes preemptively.

“You’re the third leader this week to bother me about that,” he said, annoyed. “We’re still listening to it daily, and the patrol still hasn’t changed. When it does, I promise I will let you and all the other leaders know.”

“It’s not that,” Three said gently. “I wanted to ask about your hacker, the one who tuned it to the guards’ walkie talking frequency.”

“Oh. What about him?”

“Do you think… if I got ahold of a flashlight, could he modify it so that it gave off almost no light at all?”

Five-Two-One frowned. “You want a useless flashlight? For what?”

Three glanced over at the guards, seated near the entrance back into the building and paying virtually no attention to the prisoners in the courtyard whatsoever. God, they were so terrible at their jobs. It was almost embarrassing the escape was taking as long as it was. “We’re getting Oh-One-One off the island,” she said, dropping her voice to a near whisper just in case.

Five-Two-One’s eyes doubled in size. “How?”

Three raised an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted all the groups acting as independently as possible?” He glared. “We’ve figured out how to pick the cell locks. We know how to avoid the nightly patrols, thanks to you and your hacker. Seven’s almost frighteningly confident she’s found a weakness in the alarm system, so we can get outside. And if One manages to get down to the docks, the supply boats all have a removable panel covering the electrical wiring, and we think she’ll be able to fit inside without electrocuting herself. The only problem we have left is getting her down to the dock without breaking her neck walking off the cliff in the pitch black. Obviously a regular flashlight will give off far too much light, she’ll be spotted right away. It needs to be just strong enough to keep her from killing herself, and no stronger. Understand?”

The leader of the Fives nodded slowly. “I’ll ask,” he said. “You don’t have the flashlight yet, though?” Three shook her head. “How will you get one?”

Three sighed. “I wish I knew.”

~~~

“Tell me again.”

Oh-One-One rolled her eyes, in perfect embodiment of a sulking preteen, and recited to Oh-Two-Three (for the third time that day) the patrol route of the guards after lights-out. Perfectly, again, for the third time that day.

“Good,” Three said. “And which window isn’t hooked up to the alarm system properly?”

“Third from the left of the main door,” One said curtly. “Three, you know I know all this already. You’re just drilling me to avoid thinking about the actual flaw in the plan.”

Three sighed. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, you’ve been doing a wonderful job with all this, I don’t mean to make you feel… I’m sorry.”

One softened. “It’s fine,” she mumbled. “I like tests anyway.” She hugged her knees and looked up at the sky, gray and darkening far too soon in the day for One’s taste, as Three turned to the third person seated with them on the grass of the courtyard.

“What do you think?” Three asked Eight. “Do you think you could get your hands on what we need?” Eight didn’t answer. Her expression was distant, her giant sky-blue eyes turned towards the other half of the yard, where the Fives were still gathered. “Eight?” Three repeated.

“He hasn’t been at breakfast for six days in a row,” Eight said softly, not looking at her companions. “They’ve never thrown him in solitary this long before. What if…” she gulped. “What if they finally decided he’s more trouble than he’s worth?”

Three sighed, then snapped her fingers loudly right in front of Eight’s nose. Eight jumped slightly and looked at her, startled. “Eight. I know you’re worried. I understand, I do.” She took Eight’s hand in hers gently. “But right now I need you here, focused and present, okay?”

Slowly, Eight nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said. Three patted her hand. Not for the first time, it occurred to Eight that back on the outside, where Three had been a doctor, she must have had an amazing bedside manner.

“Do you think,” Three repeated slowly, “you could get your hands on a flashlight?”

Eight frowned and considered the question for a while. “They don’t carry them until after we’re all locked in our cells for the night,” she finally said. “When would I have the opportunity to grab one?”

“Could you get it through the bars as they walk by on patrol?” Three suggested.

“I doubt it,” Eight replied. “They never pass that close, and if they saw me up against the bars they’d yell at me to get back into bed before coming anywhere near.”

“Technically,” One said, “we’ve already solved the problem of being locked in our cells at night.”

“No,” Three said immediately. “Eight is not breaking out just to steal a flashlight, it’s too risky. Nobody’s leaving their cell after hours until the night of the escape. We can’t risk the guards realizing we can pick the lock.”

“We don’t have a choice,” One said. “Everything we do now is going to be risky. If we don’t take risks, we’ll be stuck here forever.”

Eight shook her head. “It wouldn’t help anyway,” she said. “I’m a pickpocket, not a ninja. Grabbing something off someone as you walk by, when they expect you to walk by and aren’t thinking about it, that’s easy. But trying to sneak up on someone in the dark without them realizing I’m there at all, that’s pushing my luck too far.” She paused. “What about a blackout? They’d have to use them in the middle of the day for one of those, with all the windowless rooms inside.”

“Maybe.” Three leaned on her hand and tapped an index finger against her jaw. “I can’t begin to imagine how we’d cause one, but maybe Seven-” Three was cut off as the door on the other side of the courtyard opened with a loud, rusty creak. All the prisoners looked towards it as Five-Three-Six was unceremoniously shoved through before the door was closed by whatever guard had escorted him. He blinked, as though the light bothered him, before looking around and locking eyes with Eight.

“Oh!” she gasped, her voice catching, before she scrambled up and ran as fast as she could for the fence. Three and One watched her go.

“Well,” One finally said wryly, “that’s the end of her being useful for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah,” Three agreed. “I suppose you’re right.” She looked around and spotted Seven near the entrance. “Come on, let’s go ask Seven if she has any ideas about cutting power to the lights.”

~~~

Eight didn’t slow down as she reached the fence, colliding with it and grabbing at it with a loud clatter. Exhaling, Six smiled at her. It wasn’t his usual smile, dizzyingly bright sunlight incarnate. It was hesitant, weak.

“Hey,” Six said softly.

“I was so worried!” Eight exclaimed, obviously fighting tears. “What happened?”

“Oh, um,” Six ran a hand through his blonde hair, messy and in need of a trim, like everybody else’s. “Nothing, I just, uh, this guard was pushing Five around and it just, uh, I guess it got to me.” He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut tightly for a moment, as though he were having difficulty focusing. “I, uh, I’m sorry you worried, if I’d known they’d put me away that long I would have… I would have…” he sighed. “Honestly, I probably would have punched the guard harder.”

“Oh, Six,” Eight sighed. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, Six looked like he was trying to say yes, but he quickly gave up. “No. No, I’m not okay,” he said, his voice rising. “Are you okay? Is any of this okay?”

“I-no, of course it isn’t,” Eight replied, her voice small. Six deflated.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said. “I just-thinking of you being here, it makes me a little crazy, you know?”

Eight nodded, but she was still too worried to really consider the implications of what Six had just said. “I’m not okay either,” she repeated gently, “but I’m less not okay when I’m with you.”

Six smiled again, but he still seemed preoccupied. “Eight,” he started. “Listen, I-” he took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking. There’s something… there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh?” Eight waited, but Six didn’t continue. “You can tell me anything,” she added.

“I know, I just-I wasn’t sure at first, if it was fair or not, I wasn’t sure if I should because I’m not sure of anything, you know?” Eight nodded. “But I’ve, uh, had a lot of time to think this past week,” he smiled wryly, but Eight didn’t smile back, “and, uh, I should just say it, right?”

“Of course.” Eight pressed her palm flat against the fence. Six pressed his own against hers and looked at their hands, together and not together, for a moment. They could feel one another through the links of the fence, feel the heat of each other’s hands, but the cold metal of the fence dug into their palms all the same. Six frowned. “Six?” Eight said gently. “What do you need to tell me?”

“I changed my mind,” Six said, still staring at the fence between their hands. “I’m not telling you like this. I’m hopping the fence first.”

For a moment, Eight was sure she’d misheard him. “What? Are you crazy?”

Six looked up at the top of the fence and shrugged. “Sure, why not? It’ll be easy, it’s only three meters high.” He squinted. “Okay, maybe a little more, but-”

“Putting aside for the moment,” Eight interrupted, trying to keep her voice down, “that you think getting over the fence faster than the guards can catch you will be easy, why? You just got out of a week of solitary! Can’t you keep your goddamn head down for a second? Besides, what’s the point? You’re just as much of a prisoner on this side of the fence as that one, trust me.”

“The point,” Six said, “is they stole everything from us. Everything. Our memories, our freedom, our lives. And we’re probably going to die in this hell without ever knowing why. So before that happens,” he took a deep breath and looked Eight straight in the eyes, his green ones suddenly brighter and more focused than Eight had ever seen them, “before that happens I am making one happy memory, just one happy memory that they can’t take away from me.”

Before Eight could reply, Six backed up about ten steps and then ran for the fence. Eyes wide, Eight backed away as Six jumped. He was at the top of the fence in the blink of an eye, perched and looking like he’d never been more at home anywhere else. He’d been almost impossibly silent, too. Eight glanced nervously at the guards but unbelievably none of them had noticed. Another second later and Six had landed in front of her, again impossibly silently. Eight was sure jumping from that height should have been dangerous, but Six landed in an easy, natural crouch.

“Wow,” Eight said, “that was-”

“Oh-Three-Eight,” Six interrupted, standing and taking her hand as he closed the distance between them and looked down at her, “I don’t have any idea who you are, but whoever you are I’m in love with you. I've been in love with you since the day I saw you, when you stood up to that guard armed with nothing but a scowl. You’re brave and kind and beautiful, and when I’m with you it’s almost like I remember what home is. And I know that's crazy, and I don’t expect you to do or say anything in response. I just wanted to tell you that once. And I wanted to tell you face to face, no fence between us.”

“Oh,” Eight sighed, her voice breaking slightly, “oh, Six, you gorgeous idiot, did you really think there was any chance in the world I wasn’t in love with you, too?” Six’s face split into a wide grin-and it was his old grin again, that lopsided, mischievous grin that had captured Eight’s heart months earlier. “You’re the most-”

“Hey!”

Eight scowled as the guards finally noticed Six was on the wrong side of the fence. “Oh, hell,” she muttered. Without another moment of hesitation, before Six even realized what she was doing, Eight grabbed his face and pulled Six down to her, kissing him fiercely. A moment later he was kissing her back and wrapping his arms tightly around her. For the first time Eight could ever remember, she truly felt safe.

This illusion was interrupted almost immediately, of course, but it was nice while it lasted.

Nearly every prisoner in the courtyard was either cheering, whistling or clapping by the time the pack of guards reached them and pulled them apart, dragging them towards the doors. The two said nothing, but their eyes stayed locked until the last possible second, and in their shared look they communicated volumes.

The two prisoners were taken back to their respective cells and thrown in unceremoniously. About twenty minutes later, the rest of the prisoners were sent back as well, their time outside cut short due to the incident.

“You know,” Seven said, grinning as she entered their cell, “I know I only have, what, four months of memories? But I'd still bet good money that was just about the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” Her cellmate was lying on the bottom bunk, staring up, a look of total shock on her face. “Oh, come on Eight,” Seven said. “Don’t be like that, everyone loved it, it’s the best thing that’s happened since we woke up here. I’m sure your boyfriend will be fine, don’t worry about it.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” her cellmate whispered back. Seven’s jaw dropped.

“Are you kidding?” she asked incredulously. “Look, Eight, I’ve put up with your whole he’s-not-my-boyfriend nonsense for this long because you insisted it didn’t count if you couldn’t touch, but after what I just saw? After the guy literally hopped a fence just to make out with you? I’m sorry, Eight, but he is absolutely your boyfriend now. Sorry, I don’t make the rules, that’s just how it is.”

“That’s not what I meant. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my husband.”

Seven blinked, confused. “What?”

Marinette Dupain-Cheng sat up, took a deep breath, and looked her cellmate straight in the eye. “I remember everything,” she said.