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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Leave No One Behind

Ch 13- We Don’t Get Along

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: The team undertake another mission, only this one doesn’t go according to plan putting the entire team in danger and Ari is left facing the fact that he might have pushed both Hannah and Sammy too far this time…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings: Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

A/N: Man it feels so GOOD to get back to this fic! We’re ramping up to the climax of the film now guys, so buckle up!

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 12 Part 2

A love like ours is love that's hard to find. How could we let it slip away? We've come too far to leave it all behind. How could we end it all this way? When tomorrow comes and we'll both regret, the things we said today.

“Ari?”

Ari turned from where he had been helping someone across the sand to see a Navy Seal heading up the shore towards him.

“Yeah?”

“Here, this is for you.” The man handed him an envelope and Ari frowned. It wasn’t unusual for the Navy to sometimes bring messages and the like from home, especially as recently the stricter rules had meant that mail into Sudan from certain countries (Israel included) was being closely monitored, but still, he’d had a letter from Maya little over a week or so ago and wasn’t expecting another so soon.

“It's from your wife.” The seal continued, noting Ari’s hesitation and Ari reached out for the item in the man’s hand, glancing down at it.

“Thanks.” He folded the envelope and stuck it into his inside jacket pocket before he glanced up to see Hannah watching him, a confused expression on her face having clearly overheard the man refer to Sarah as his wife, which in fairness she still was as they weren’t divorced yet. But as he locked eyes with her, he saw the confusion slide into, well, hurt would be the most appropriate thing to describe it as and Ari, despite everything that was going on, let out a little groan. He hadn’t bothered to correct the man about Sarah and him being estranged because it wasn’t important all things considered.

Thankfully, Hannah shook herself out of her little moment and turned back to the task in hand which Ari was grateful for. This wasn’t the time or the place and he knew that Hannah would understand that. There were far more pressing things to deal with.

And those things got even more pressing when Max’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Guys, we have company.”

Ari froze, the radio in his hand as he hastily glanced around. “Say again?”

“We have company.”

Ari wheeled round and frantically began gesturing at the group of people on the shore line. “Go, go, go!” he urged, walking along the wet sand, his hand running through his hair as he looked up and over the beach. “What kind of company?” He asked, his voice urgent.

But the only response that came was Max cursing. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Military jeeps approaching from the North!” Max’s voice was clear but Ari could tell he was panicked “I see three, four jeeps.”

“Fuck!” Ari yelled, turning and gesturing to another Navy seal “Go, go, go, get on the Waverly!”

“Ari, what-” Hannah looked at him but before she could finish her sentence the sound of gunfire exploded across the night, sand scattering into the air as the bullets hit the beach all around them. Hannah gave a scream and ducked as Ari instinctively pulled her in front of him, placing himself between the oncoming fire and her.

“Sammy!” She yelled, looking around and Ari raised his head to check if everyone was alright. Jake was hurriedly shepherding a group onto one of the boats, helping push it out into the ocean, Sammy dodging around everyone trying to stop the panicking refugees from running away up the beach.

And then, one of the Navy seals gave a shout and dropped not far from where they were. Sammy paused and looked at the injured man, Hannah doing the same and they both ran towards him, keeping low.

Hannah was the first to reach him, and dropping to her knees she instinctively started to remove the man’s outer layer of clothing. “What's your name, soldier?” She asked, and when the man’s response was nothing more than a pained and panicked scream, she repeated her question a little more forcefully, trying to get him to stay conscious. “What's your name?”

“David.” He stuttered out, swallowing as he glanced up at her, his eyes wide with fright.

“David.” She nodded, her gaze not moving from his face as Sammy dropped to her side and immediately got to work, tearing off a sleeve from the man’s jacket and pressing it to the wound in his chest attempting to stem the blood. “Stay with us, okay?”

“You're gonna be all right.” Sammy nodded, before he looked up at Ari. “Get my bag, it's in the truck.”

“There’s no time!” Ari urged, ducking as another wave of bullets came flying their way. “We gotta get him to the Waverly.”

Sammy and Hannah exchanged a glance and Hannah took a deep breath.

“We’re sitting ducks out here, Sammy. His best chance is with the Navy medics.”

Sammy nodded and Ari grabbed one of the seals who had come running to help “Grab a leg!”

Ari and the Soldier lifted the wounded man, Sammy keeping his hand pressed over the wound in his chest as they made their way to the last waiting boat where they lay him down carefully with another seal.

“Hey, don't let go of this wound.” Sammy looked at the soldier who took over from him.

“Keep the pressure on even if your hand turns numb.” Hannah shouted over the noise, issuing instructions to the man in the boat. “You let go, he's dead!”

Hannah began to back away as Ari and Sammy gave the boat a shove, sending it over the beach before the three of them began to sprint up the beach, the bullets continued to fire into the air and sand around them. Ari shoved Hannah in front of him, yelling at her to keep low and not to stop, his heart pounding in out and out panic that she was going to get hit as they half ran, half stumbled to a cluster of rocks set a bit further up the beach, a little back from the shore line. Ari had no idea where Max or Jake had gone, he only hoped they’d found cover, but they were sensible guys, they knew the drill.

The three of them dropped into the shelter of the rocks, gunfire splintering shards off the boulders as they ducked, Hannah shrieking again as Ari once more twisted himself around her, one hand pushing her head down, the other curling around his own in a brace position.

“Dozen or so targets have been identified.” A Navy operative cracked on his radio. “Permission to engage.”

“No, do not engage!” Ari yelled back into his radio, desperate to try and keep control of the situation. “If you engage, it's all over. I'll handle it.”

“How?” Hannah screamed at him. “How the fuck are you going to handle this, Ari?”

Her eyes were wide with fright as he looked at her, swallowing slightly before he moved and took a quick look around at the approaching Sudanese Military.

“Do you trust me?” His chest heaved as he snapped his head back to look her in the eyes and she frowned.

“What? Yes, of course I do but-”

Before she could say anything else he grabbed her face, his large hands practically crushing her cheeks before he gave her a quick, furious peck on the lips and moved, tossing his radio onto the beach and covering it with sand.

“What are you doing?”

“Stay quiet and hidden.” He looked at her. “Once we’re gone, you find Max and Jake, and get back to the resort.”

“Ari, don’t you dare! I swear to fucking God if you leave-“

“Hannah for once in your life just shut up and do what I say!” He hissed at her, his face stern. At that he turned to Sammy “Follow my lead. “

“No, Ari-” Hannah began to protest but at that Ari stood up.

“Don't shoot, don't shoot!” He urged as he stepped out of the cover of the rocks.

“Sammy, please!” Hannah sobbed quietly as her brother dropped a soft kiss to her head.

“Do as he says, Han.” He urged before he too stood up and walked towards Ari, his hands held either side of his head.

“My name is Guy Thomas!” Hannah could hear Ari shouting. “From the Red Sea Diving Resort. We have tourists on night dive. What are you doing? Where's your commander?”

There was more shouting, and angry yelling and Hannah clamped her hand over her mouth, her body shaking uncontrollably as the tears poured down her face. She fought to keep the sobs from escaping her mouth, as she flattened herself back into the rocks as the shouting grew quieter and quieter. Eventually she heard the slamming of truck doors and the sound of engines as the vehicles tore away from the beach, and then there was nothing but the noise of the waves crashing against the shore.

Her chest felt tight and she was struggling to breathe, like her airway had been cut off. Scrunching her eyes closed, she hugged her knees closer to her body, waiting for the panic to subside as the world around her began to spin. She counted, reached down to the sand, feeling it between her fingers, cool against the heated skin on her clammy palms. Eventually, her chest released and she took in a painful gasp of air and opened her eyes, focussing on a spot of seaweed which lay to the left of the rock she was leaning against.

Hannah had no idea how long she was sat there, but eventually she gathered enough about her to take a cautious peek out from the rocks. She could see nothing, so she emerged at a crawl, staying low to the ground before she tentatively rose to her knees, then her feet, and began to scramble as best she could up the sand. A movement in her peripheral made her still but as her eyes focussed in the dim moonlight she recognised Jake’s loping gait. Then, another movement to the right had her focussing in that direction and she saw Max making his way towards Jake.

With a relieved sob she began to run towards them, stumbling a little as she sprinted as fast as she could towards the two men, just as Jake tackled Max to the floor. She continued running as Jake let go of Max having realised who he was and helped him to his feet, giving him a quick and urgent embrace. The two of them then spun in her direction and as she stumbled again, this time she couldn’t stop herself, and she felt her body pitching forward.

“Hey, I got you.” Max caught her under her armpits and pulled her to him as she pressed her face into his chest, her breathing ragged as she began to sob.

“Ari, Sammy, they took…they took…” She was hyperventilating again, the tears coursing down her face and Max pulled back a little, both his hands cupping her cheeks.

“We know.” He nodded. “They’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that!” She practically screamed and Jake hastily hushed her. “This, it’s like Andy again, Max! I can’t lose him! I can’t lose him, or Sammy, I can’t!”

“Cracker, I know this is hard, but you gotta be quiet.” Max’s hands curled around her upper arms as he stooped down a little so his face was level with hers. “We need to get out of here.”

Hannah took in a deep gulp of air, trying to control herself as she knew he was right.

“Let’s get home and find out what’s going on.” Jake added, his voice a little shaky.

“Yeah, okay.” She nodded, her voice wobbling. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Hey, nothing to be sorry for.” Max gently placed his hand on her neck in a sign of affection. “Come on.”

He offered her his hand and she took it, lacing her fingers into his and he gave a little encouraging squeeze. Taking a tentative step, she was pleased to find her legs cooperating, and with Jake walking on her other side, the three of them made their way quickly to the trucks.

“Dumb bastards left the keys.” Jake’s voice was shaky but relieved as he checked the ignition in one truck, Max inspecting the other before he gave a nod.

“Same here.” Max spoke. “Okay, we’ll take the off road route home. It’ll take us a little longer but we’ll avoid anyone who may or may not be waiting for us.”

Jake nodded, before he paused, and gave Max a quick embrace before he stooped to give Hannah a hug, noticing that she was shivering violently from a combination of fright and cold.

“Here.” he said gently, taking his jacket off and dropping it over her shoulder.

“Thanks Jake.” She mumbled, clutching it round her tightly, her fingers curling over the material, clinging to it as if her life depended on it.

“Any time, Red.” He smiled and she gave a little nod before she turned and made her way to the truck Max had checked.

As Jake made to walk away, Max grabbed his arm.

“You stop for nothing or no-one. If anything happens to one of us, the other keeps going.” He instructed, his voice low as he shot a glance over his shoulder to double check Hannah wasn’t in ear shot. “Fuck this leave no one behind bullshit.”

Jake nodded. “Keep going, yeah, got it.” He looked around before he sighed.” Ari and Sammy, man. They’re-”

“I know.” Max replied, his voice sombre as he cut Jake off. It didn’t need saying, he knew that they were in deep shit. “But if we don’t get back, then this situation is gonna be a whole lot worse.”

“Stay safe.” Jake nodded, and with a final quick embrace the two men headed to their respective trucks. Max hauled himself in to his and stole a quick glance at Hannah as she sat on the passenger seat, huddled in on herself, looking out of the window over the ocean. He took a deep breath, turned the key in the ignition and then set off, pulling away from the beach quickly, the wheels spinning slightly on the loose shale ground beneath the tyres.

****

"We're gonna get outta here. It's gonna be okay." Ari stated with fake conviction as he paced up and down the filthy jail cell he and Sammy had been thrown into.

Sammy didn't respond, he had fallen into an introspective state the moment the Sudanese soldiers had made them get in the jeep and was now sat on a rusted bench inspecting the blood on his hands. Ari was worried about him and he had given Sammy a side glance before assuring him everything would turn out right, hoping to get the man out of the dangerous headspace he seemed to be caught in, but Sammy didn't even spare him a look.

Then a guard walked past, the sound of a bunch of keys jingling and the clanking in another cell lock alerting Ari who turned hastily. "Hey, hey, excuse me." He called. "Excuse me. I need to talk to your commander. Hey!" Ari insisted but the guard totally ignored him, causing his despair as he resumed his pacing along the cell. "Fucking asshole."

"You're the asshole, Ari." Sammy spoke, his voice calm as his eyes remained fixed on the floor.

"What?" Ari stopped and turned to look at him.

"I told you to cancel tonight's operation, I told you. I told you." Sammy insisted, his tone still calm as he fiddled with his fingers.

"You don't get to make that call." Ari responded somewhat irritated as he approached the cell door again.

"No, I don't get to make that call, only you get to make that call."

"Is there something you wanna say?" Ari harshly asked.

"Why did you bring me down here?" Sammy lifted his head to look at Ari for the first time since they had arrived in the jail. "You act like we're best friends, but you never listen to a word I say. And I'm clearly not the best field doctor around anymore." He added as he raised his injured hand to punctuate his words. "Is it pity? Or was it just so you could get close to Hannah again?”

Ari snapped at Sammy's insinuations of him having a hidden agenda. "Yeah, it was pity. You happy? Now shut up." He ordered as he ran his hands through his hair. "We'll get out of here if we stay calm."

"They're gonna find out who we are." Sammy groaned. "They're gonna go to the hotel if they're not there already and they're gonna kill every single one of them, Max, Jake, Rachel..."

"Hey, stop using names." Ari cut him off as he walked towards him. He wanted, or better yet, he needed Sammy to keep the cover, and he also didn't need to hear him say the name of his sister. He didn't want to think about it, nor did he want to think about the fact he had left her behind albeit for a good reason, and the thought of her not being able to get to the resort safe and sound made him feel physically sick. "You don't know who's listening."

Sammy sat still but continued with his tirade against Ari's methods. "You think this kind of work is romantic? It's not romantic, it's practical. There's a protocol. You can't just make shit up as you go along and hope for the best."

"I know that." Ari snapped. "What we do is dangerous. People get hurt sometimes." He said in an attempt to justify his reckless ways, but that was the last straw. At the mention of someone being hurt Sammy cut him off loudly.

"Oh, I know." He shouted as he help up his hand angrily

"Is that what this is about? Your hand? Tangiers?"

"You know, I was a surgeon before I met you, and you dare come into my clinic, and make a joke about me not saving lives." Sammy replied, his tone harsh but calm at the same time.

"What joke, when did I make a joke? What joke?" Ari asked, annoyed and stunned at Sammy's accusation.

"It's not about my hand! It's about you." Sammy yelled as he stood up to face Ari. "It's about you and me. And Hannah. You had to drag her back into this fucking shit, and now she loves you." He spat the words at his friend's face, causing Ari to wince. "And they’re gonna torture us and we're gonna die in here and she’s gonna lose the both of us, lose someone she loves, again, and... and it's because your ego won't accept any help from anybody else. And no matter what you do, I still fucking follow you around like that fucking dog of yours."

Ari swallowed. He was frozen and lost for words and the least he could do, or so he thought, was to allow his friend the right to pour his heart out whether he liked his words or not. Sammy stood there looking at him for a few seconds before he laughed softly.

"I'm so stupid. I'm so stupid, I'm so stupid..." He repeated as he retreated to the cell door crying until he eventually shut up and started sobbing as he held onto the bars of the door.

"Hey." Ari tried to calm him, but then Sammy let out a scream of a yell, causing Ari to run towards him in an attempt to make him shut up.

"Hey, hey, hey, stop, stop, you're gonna get us killed. Don't-" he started to say as he tried to keep his voice even but Sammy cut him off with a punch which took Ari by surprise. Sammy took advantage of his staggering friend and blew him a couple more blows before Ari finally reacted, dodging the next one and was able to retaliate with a punch of his own, more in the hopes of making Sammy stop in order to avoid attracting the guards attention, than in a real desire to hurt him.

Eventually, the fight finally broke when Ari was able to overpower Sammy slamming him against a wall.

"Sammy, stop." He hissed.

Sammy didn't fight back but pushed him away. "I tell you something now, Ari. If by some miracle we get out of here, if anything has happened to my sister, or Rachel because of you, I’ll fucking kill you myself."

Ari stared at Sammy as his words sank in. He was devastated, overridden by guilt and worried that his friend’s words might be actually a reality when or if they got out of that prison. That something might have happened to Hannah, to his firefly, because of him and his ego getting in the way. He had put his need to try and maintain cover so that they could continue their work before the safety of his team by forbidding the Navy Seals to get involved. They could have ended this there and then on the beach, and now they’d be on a ship heading for the safety of home. Instead here he was, banged up in a cell, again, with Sammy, having no idea if Hannah and the rest of the guys had made it home.

And if something happened to them, to his Firefly, he didn't know what he was gonna do.

He felt the tears stinging at the back of his eyes as he slumped on the bench, his head in his hands, before he starting to silently sob.

****

The cell was silent, both men slumped on the floor on opposite walls. The only noises made since the fight had been Sammy's panting and Ari's hushed sobbing, which had died after a while. Ari was now watching his diver's watch, the time going painfully slow. It had been almost eight hours since they had been there. Eight fucking hours and every guard had ignored him. He sighed and threw his head back, grimacing as his face hurt from the blows Sammy had given him. He felt miserable. It was hot and sticky and he was in pain both physically and emotionally as Sammy hadn't spoken a word to him since their fight.

Eventually, Ari gathered all the strength he had left and pulled himself from the floor to sit on the bench and there he was, led on that bench, trying to clear his mind, when he heard footsteps. He sat up when a guard opened the door and nodded to them. He shared a glance with Sammy, who was also sitting up from his spot on the floor, and together they followed the guard out, down the corridor and into the main building where he saw Rachel and Madibo. Ari quickly put two and two together, Rachel must have gone to find Madibo to talk him into letting them out of the prison, and Sammy must have been thinking the same thing as Ari heard him give a little sigh.

Ari was looking at Rachel, trying to read any sign Hannah was safe, but she was just staring at Sammy, taking in his horrible appearance as she struggled to keep a straight face. Ari knew that much, so his eyes fell on Madibo who was looking at him also taking in his injuries and then the Colonel's eyes flicked to Sammy's blood stained top.

"Who did this to you?" Madibo asked them both, before he angrily turned to a guard speaking to him in Amharic.

"No, no, no, that's...It's not, they didn't..." Ari explained before he gestured between him and Sammy. "We did this. To each other."

Madibo frowned at Ari. "What do you mean?"

"We don't get along." Sammy deadpanned.

Madibo looked at Rachel before looking back at them and started chuckling heartily "Crazy Hawajas." He said before laughing again. "You're free to go."

Ari paused, not daring to believe it, to believe his luck once more. He glanced at Sammy and then at Rachel and, looking for confirmation, he turned to Madibo who nodded. “You may go."

The three undercover agents thanked him and silently they made their turn to go, being escorted out by a guard. No sooner had they put a foot out of the building that Ari gently grabbed Rachel's arm, making her stop.

"Did…"

"All three of them made it back, safe." Rachel cut him off before he could mention any names, her face expression not giving anything more away.

Ari let out a sigh of relief, as did Sammy, and the three of them stayed silent until they reached the jeep a few steps ahead when Rachel stopped and turned to Sammy, wrapping her arms around him.

"Hey." Sammy whispered, as he held her tight against him.

Ari dropped his head and stood still, hands on his jacket's pockets. He felt like he was intruding, but at the same time he was also desperate to get back and he knew it was like a five hour drive at least, till he could also wrap his arms around his firefly. Eventually Sammy pulled away and Rachel turned to Ari and examined at his face. "You did that?"

"He’s an asshole." Sammy just shrugged.

Ari sighed and rubbed his head for a moment before holding his hands out for the keys. "I’ll drive."

****

The car drive back to the resort was distressing to say the least. You could cut the tension inside the car with a knife. Sammy had been sulking on the back seat all the time, refusing to say a single word to either of them. Rachel, on her part, had remained silent as well once she had filled them in properly in all the details of the last twelve hours or so at the resort and how she had gone to ask for Madibo's help after speaking to Ethan, who had told her he was flying to Port Sudan that very same day, but she turned back to check up on Sammy or watch Ari every now and then.

All in all, Ari was anxious and couldn't wait to get out of that suffocating space and hold Hannah in his arms again and check with his own eyes she was well. And he did after a few hours, as the car approached the resort he could see her figure standing behind Ethan, holding onto Jake's arm, squinting as if to check it was really him who was driving the incoming car. Uneasy though he was about Ethan's presence at the resort, Ari tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smile when he stopped the car and Hannah ran past Ethan towards him, jumping onto his arms once he had got out of the jeep, hugging him for dear life.

Ari held her tightly, chuckling before whispering sweet nothings into her hair to assure his girl he was really there and in one piece. But no sooner had he chuckled again and kissed Hannah's cheek and put her down, she slapped him fiercely across his face, causing his head to whip sharply to the right as she started yelling at him.

"It isn't funny, you asshole!"

Ari tried to calm her as he struggled to dodge her blows as she hammered her fists at his chest, his face, anything she could aim at, but it was proving a really difficult task. Hannah had gone into overdrive and was desperately trying to whack him as tears run down her face.

"Hannah!" Sammy called her, in an attempt to stop his raging sister, more as a desire to calm her than preventing her from hitting Ari. And then, as Hannah's brain registered the sound of her brother's voice, she stopped dead and threw herself into his arms, sobbing disconsolately.

Eventually Hannah pulled away and Sammy kissed the top of her head before Rachel took her out of Ari's reach. Ari was confused, he knew deep down that Hannah had all the right to be mad at him but was hoping to make her understand why he had acted like he had before having to deal with Ethan and thus, he made a move to follow her and Rachel but Ethan cleared his throat demanding his attention and compelling him to stay put with only one look.

"You're overdressed." Ari commented, trying to lighten the tension a bit. But Ethan wasn't in any mood whatsoever to entertain his dark humour.

"Let's talk, inside." he ordered, un-phased.

Ari dropped his head and had just started following Ethan who had turned to go inside when Sammy called the older man.

"Ethan!" He paused, giving time for Ethan to turn to look at him. "The soldier that was shot?"

Hannah dropped her head, she already knew the man’s fate as it had been one of the first things she had asked Ethan when he arrived in the resort, and Ethan looked at Sammy sympathetically before answering.

"He lost too much blood."

Sammy's head fell in understanding and Ethan turned again to follow Ari to his and Hannah’s hut.

Ari paused to take off his jacket, before he felt something in the inside left pocket and suddenly remembered the letter he had received on the beach. He pulled it out, taking a look for the first time at the writing on the front and whilst it was addressed in Sarah’s tidy writing, he spotted a small smiley face in the bottom corner drawn in crayon. Taking a deep breath to steady his once more brewing emotions, he tossed the letter onto his nightstand before throwing his jacket over the chair in the corner as Ethan closed the door to the hut behind him.

"How did this happen?" Ethan asked, his voice calm.

"They mistook us for smugglers." Ari explained, his voice lower than usual, as he took off his watch as well and placed it on the bedside table, before picking up a towel that was on his bed.

"This whole thing's a bloody mistake." Ethan stated, visibly angry now, before sighing "It doesn't... It doesn't really matter anymore."

Ari then stilled, realising what he meant. "You shutting us down?" He asked, and Ethan nodded, making him drop the towel he was cleaning himself with and sit on his bed. “You can't, Ethan." he said then, keeping his voice as calmed as possible. This mission's a success, we've got thousands of people out, we have thousands more coming this way."

"That's exactly why we have to stop now. While it's still a success." Ethan offered.

Ari then stood up again. "God, you're thinking about the politics. Nothing's changed." He said, almost pleaded, as he approached Ethan. "The Sudanese don't know the missing..."

"You could have died last night." Ethan cut him off. "We were this close," he said, gesturing with his index finger and thumb, "to having an all-out war between our Navy Seals and the Sudanese military. You were arrested. Again. They have a file on you."

With a groan Ari sat back down on the edge of his and Hannah’s bed.

"My job here isn't finished." He stated stubbornly, his voice soft again, making Ethan sigh and take a seat on a chair in front of where Ari was sat.

“Open your eyes. Look what's happening in Khartoum. They're arresting and executing dissidents. They're beating uncovered women in the street. They're expelling foreigners. Textbook revolution. It's time to get out."

"Please, Ethan, please." Ari pleaded, but Ethan cut his pleads off loudly.

"I want you chaps home." And then he shrugged. "I don't need more bodies on my conscience. Take a few days to organize. And get the hell out of this God forsaken place."

Ari didn't say a word, but then again there wasn't much else he could say, and Ethan sighed as he stood up.

"Now I suggest you go deal with your domestic problems."

Ari shook his head, fully understanding what Ethan was referring to, and as much as he knew that was exactly what he had to do, he wasn't looking forward to Hannah's reaction to him again.

"I've been here for a few hours already and she’s hardly spoken a word. Every so often she would simply get up and walk the dog but that was it." Ethan explained and Ari sighed frustratedly. "Textbook PTSD if you ask me." He added, watching Ari intently.

"PTSD?" Ari frowned, lifting his head to look at Ethan who rolled his eyes and audibly sighed at his team leader's stupidity.

"Shall I remind you she already lost a husband in very similar circumstances?"

"Shit." Ari groaned, suddenly everything clicking in. A night mission, an ambush, them hiding behind rocks trying to find cover from stray shots...

"Penny dropped, Ari?" Ethan asked, before opening the hut's door.

Ari looked at him and swallowed hard as he nodded, his head falling down before whispering. "Yeah, yeah."

"Good. Now go deal with it." Ethan suggested before stepping outside the hut. Once outside he paused, and turned to Ari, a slight twinkle in his eyes. “I have to ask, where did you find the dog?”

“Erm…” Ari frowned at the man’s change of subject before he took a deep breath. “Han found him, in a cave at the end of the cove.”

“Hmmm.” Ethan said, his eyes flashing with a sudden humour. “I like him. He reminds me of someone, can’t think who” And with a final look at Ari he turned and left.

As the door shut behind Ethan, Ari let out a groan and ran his hands down his tender face. His fingers steeped in front of his mouth as he contemplated the fact that Ethan had basically just ended the mission. Ari wasn’t an idiot, he had known for a while this day would come, sooner rather than later, but still he wasn’t ready, not yet.

But then, would he ever be?

His eyes wandered around the hut that he had, for the last two years, called his home and all thoughts of disappointment flew from his mind as he spotted the envelope he’d tossed down five or so minutes ago. He stood up and made his way over, snatching it up before he opened it and pulled out the contents. There was no long letter, simply two folded up pieces of paper. The first one was blank, but inside that one was another that held a crayon drawing and he instantly felt his nose begin to sting and his eyes watered as he glanced down at the sketch of Maya, Sarah and him, complete with his rucksack hanging from his hand and beard on his face. He took a shuddering breath as he saw the words ‘My family’ written over the top of the photo and he wiped his eyes hastily, before he spotted that Maya had written the letters PTO in the bottom corner. He did just that and felt his mouth drop open at the second drawing on the back. It was him, this time depicted on a beach, with a woman next to him with long, dark hair, and at his feet sat a small grey dog. This time, the words ‘My Dad At Work’ were written alongside it and Ari sighed, taking a deep breath as he chuckled a little.

“Oh Munchkin.” He whispered, tracing the lines of the drawing a little before he folded it and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans to show Hannah.

That was if he could find her because, as it stood, she was proving to be quite elusive. She was nowhere to be found in the main building, Max and Jake who were in there both told him they hadn’t seen her in a while. He checked everywhere he could think of, the reception, kitchen, spare rooms, lounge area before be headed out to her little cave and there was no sign of her there either. With a sigh he stood on the beach, hands on his hips as he glanced along the shore line trying to figure out where she could possibly have gone when he heard a little bark in the distance. Turning his head towards it, Ari felt a smile cross his face as his eyes landed in the little boat shed where all the diving equipment was kept.

Bingo.

He hurried towards it and found her, not in the hut, but sat in one of the boats tied to the jetty, looking out over the ocean. Simon gave a little whine as he saw Ari coming and started to wag his tail in greeting.

“Hey.” Ari spoke as he walked down the small wooden jetty towards the diving boat. “I’ve been looking for you all over.”

“Take a hint then.” Hannah sniffed, not bothering to turn to look at him. “When someone hides it usually means they don’t wanna be found.”

“Is that what you were doing?” Ari asked as he gently stepped onto the boat causing it to sway gently, ripples spreading out on the surface of the ocean which was as still as a millpond. Simon jumped up at him and he gently pushed the dog down, giving him a quick pat.

“Leave me alone, Ari.” Her response, although not a direct yes, was affirmative. “I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

“Come on Firefly, please.” Ari sighed, sitting on the bench opposite her. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what exactly?” Her head snapped up to look at him and Ari took a deep breath as he saw the anger blazing once more in her eyes. “For almost getting us killed? For being a reckless asshole? For fucking leaving me behind?”

By the time she had finished her voice was loud, laced with hurt as much as anger, and Ari swallowed, shaking his head.

“I needed you to stay hidden, Hannah.” He pressed, trying to explain his actions. “If they’d have seen you and taken you do you know what they’d have done to you?”

“You left me, Ari!” Hannah sniffed. “You left me and I was terrified.”

“Because I couldn’t let them find you, Baby!” Ari felt his gut twisting at the expression on Hannah’s face as she glanced away from him, tears in her eyes. “Do you think I wanted to leave you?”

“I doesn’t matter what you wanted!” Hannah screamed at him, making him recoil a little. “You did it! And I didn’t know what had happened to you, or what they were gonna do to you, or if I was ever gonna see you or Sammy ever again. I was going mad there, in the dark, hiding by those rocks and having to listen to everyone yelling and wondering if they were gonna find me, and if they had I’d have been there, alone, no gun, nothing!”

“I had no choice, Han!” Ari replied, his own voice gathering volume and momentum as he tried to make her understand. “If they’d have found you, you know what this place is like for women, shit, I don’t even wanna think about what those bastards would have done to you.” He swallowed, as the mere thought about what she could have gone through was enough to make him feel sick.

Hannah glanced at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as tears coursed down her face. All Ari wanted to do was hold her in his arms, but as he moved towards her she held her hands out and shook her head.

“Firefly…”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.” She spoke softly, and Ari frowned at her sudden change of mind and demeanour. “We all got back safe. You and Sammy are here and okay, well, sort of.” She nodded to the bruises on the left side of his face and Ari took a deep breath as she continued. “But I can’t lose you, Ari. I won’t go through that again, I can’t go through that again, I’m sorry.”

“What are you saying?” Ari whispered, his stomach turned to lead as he contemplated what her words meant. And when she answered, and confirmed his fears, he felt like his entire world was crumbling around him.

“I can’t do this.” She waved her hand between them. “Not anymore.”

“Hannah, no, please.” He gulped, reaching for her hand. ”Don’t do this.”

“What choice do I have?” She sniffed through her tears. “I love you, Ari. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, Mi Lobo, but I can’t lose you, and I can’t lose what I don’t have.”

“Hannah…” Ari felt his own lip beginning to wobble as he trailed off, the lump in his throat felt like a golf ball as the tears pricked his eyes.

“I couldn’t stand you leaving me again or dying…” Hannah’s voice dropped to a whisper and Ari shook his head.

“I’m never gonna leave you, Firefly.” He took a shuddering breath. “Not that way, you know this. I love you so fucking much.”

She turned her blue eyes to his, and he reached up, his hands cupping her face. “Ethan is pulling us out now anyway, so we’re going home.” His thumbs gently brushed over her cheekbones as he held her face steady so he could look at her. “And I’ll find something else to do. A desk job...”

“Will you?” Her tone was disbelieving.

“Yes!” He implored. “I told you almost two years ago that this was going to be my last field mission.”

“And how long until you get bored, or miserable?” Hannah shook her head, pulling her face out of his gently grasp.

“Nothing could make me as miserable as losing you.”

She turned to look out of the boat over at the sun which was sinking below the horizon before she shrugged. “Well, suppose you’d know how that feels, I mean, you walked away from me once after all.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Ari heard her groan a little and he looked down at his hands, as he felt her turn to face him.

“I’m sorry, that was mean.”

“Maybe.” He looked at her with a sad smile. “But the truth hurts doesn’t it?” He took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes. “I can’t explain how sorry I am for leaving you last night. I can’t apologise enough for being an asshole and I can’t even begin to show you how much I love you, Hannah.” He sniffed a little and looked at her.

“I know.” She shook her head, fresh tears falling from her face.

“Then don’t finish this, please.” Ari’s chest hitched as Hannah looked at him once more, before she let out a huge sob, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Ari, I don’t want to, I don’t wanna be without you.” She cried. “I was lashing out, you know I lost Andy and yesterday I really thought I’d lost you again, and Sammy, and as per the last time I never got to say goodbye….”

At that she completely broke down, more apologies spilling from her mouth, and Ari hastily moved to sit by her, pulling her to him as she sobbed, her hands fisting in the back of his T-shirt as her arms hugged him. Ari pressed his face into her hair, his own chest hitching with silent sobs as he held her tightly, never wanting to let her go again. He’d been an asshole, he knew that. He also, deep down, knew that Ethan was right. They did need to get out of here. Not simply because of the Authorities, but the team were tied, they were done. And it was certainly better to quit whilst it had been successful than to go out under a dark cloud should anything go wrong.

Plus, he couldn’t lose the woman in his arms. Not again. He wanted a future with her. He saw them building a home, living together in a normal place, doing on normal dates, marriage and maybe even a family of their own.

With a shuddering breath he pulled back and looked down at her, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t wannabe without you, either.” He shook his head. “I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Firefly. And I know me and Sarah aren’t legally divorced yet, but as soon as we’re home I’m gonna sort that out and…” he trailed off. “Then it’s a clean slate, for me and you.”

At that Simon jumped up in between them and Ari’s large hand lazily scratched behind his ear, as he took the opportunity to steady his emotions as the relief that she didn’t want to end things between them flooded Ari’s system. As the dog let out a little sigh of satisfaction, Ari was suddenly reminded of the picture in his pocket. He shifted slightly, and reached behind him, pulling it free.

“What’s that?” Hannah asked, wiping her face.

“It’s the letter the Navy Seal gave to me.” He said, holding it out to her. “Maya sent it. Have a look.”

Hannah eyed him for a moment before she took the piece of paper and Ari watched as she studied it, her eyes growing wide. She took a deep breath, tears once more trickled down her cheeks as she gave a little laugh, before she looked back up at him.

“If you wanna know where exactly you sit in my life, then there you have it.” He swallowed. “Maya knows all about you, because I tell her so much, and, fuck, Hannah…I…”

At that he was cut off as she surged forward, pressing her lips to his, her arms round his neck, pulling him down to her. Ari’s hand slipped a little on the bench, causing Simon to grumble in protest as he wriggled free from where he had been unceremoniously squashed as Ari’s strong arms pinned Hannah to his chest. The kiss was frantic, moans and groans slipping from both their mouths as their tongues fought for dominance. Hannah’s hands moved to tangle in the back of Ari’s hair, fisting slightly around the ends of the long strands round his neck and then the pain in Ari’s face suddenly registered and he gave an involuntary hiss and pulled back, his hand reaching up to his face, fingers gently pressing along his jawline.

Hannah studied him in the dim light that was now flooding the boat thanks to the lamps coming on around the resort. She gently reached up and titled his head around so she could see his injuries and for the first time noticed that it wasn’t just around his left eye. That side of his jaw as also peppered with bruises. She swallowed.

“Did they…”

“No.” Ari assured her. “It was Sammy. We err, we had a fight.”

“What?” She frowned, her hands dropping to his shoulders. “Why?”

“Coz I’m an asshole.” He shrugged and Hannah arched her eyebrow.

“Well, yes, that’s a given, you are but…” She sighed. “Next time he beats up your pretty face I’m gonna smash his head against the floor.”

“You think my face is pretty, huh?” Are teased, gently placing his hands on her hips and Hannah smiled.

“You’re the most handsome man in the whole world to me, Lobo.”

“Good to know.” Ari smirked.

Hannah studied him for a moment before she sighed. “I love you, I’m so sorry for before.”

“Hey, don’t.” He shook his head. “I understand, I was an asshole. You and Sammy, you’re both right but…” He took a deep breath. “That’s why I get what Ethan’s saying now. We’re done. It’s time we all go home.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“Well I need to find Kabede, make sure he’s okay, and break the news to him.” Ari licked his lips. “Then we need to pack up what stuff we need to here and then we go.”

“Cut and run?”

“Most probably.” He nodded.

“Hmmm.” Hannah looked at him. “There is one thing you gotta do before all that.”

“What?”

“Shower. You stink.” She wrinkled her nose and Ari let out sigh.

“Yeah well, it wasn’t exactly the Ritz in there.” He shrugged before he ran one of his hands through his slightly greasy hair, the other flexing on her hip. “Wanna come scrub my back?”

Hannah looked at him for a moment, before she licked her lips and gave a grin. “Only if you repay the favour.”

“Why kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” Ari grinned and with a little groan he rose to his feet, offering Hannah his hand. She took it and together they made their way down the quiet, moonlit beach heading for their hut, Simon trotting behind them.

**** Chapter 14

#leave no one behind #Ari Levinson #ari levinson x ofc #ari levinson x original female character #red sea diving resort #chris evans #chris evans characters #ari levinson fanfiction

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sortasirius · 3 years

Text

Programing The Winter Soldier

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, this is seriously big sad hours

AN: This is so very sad and I definitely cried writing it lmao. I love Bucky Barnes so much.

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Words: 3873

Read it on AO3 here

January 23, 1945

General,

Sgt. Barnes has undergone an initial mind wipe. Dr. Zola has succeeded in attaching the weapon to his shoulder. He has been put in the cryo-chamber as a test, and after some initial pain it looks as though it has worked.

We will begin reprogramming shortly.

Longing

Bucky wakes up in pain. His arm hurts. After a few moments of long, deep breaths where he decides he’s not, in fact, dead, he tries, experimentally, to move his fingers. To his relief, he finds he can, but something feels different, wrong. The clicking in his index finger, from where he had broken it when he was twelve defending Steve from some guy he had tried to fight in an alley after the creep had tried to grab at a woman on the street, was gone. The pain is gone there too, in fact he can’t feel anything below the burning where his shoulder meets something cold, something foreign.

He tries to look around, but it’s pitch black wherever he is. It’s also brutally fucking cold. He shivers violently, trying to get away from whatever cold metal is touching his skin, but no matter how far he leans, he can’t seem to get away from it.

Suddenly, without warning, fluorescent lights above him burst into life, and Bucky screws his eyes up against the sudden brightness. Blinking away the mild pain, he sees a man he vaguely recognizes coming toward him. He’s a shorter man, wearing round glasses…

Like another switch flipped, Bucky suddenly remembers this man, remembers a saw taken to the shattered remains of his arm, remembers being tied down, with a rag stuffed in his mouth to keep him from biting off his own tongue. He remembers the arm that doesn’t belong to him attached to his left side. He remembers throwing someone across the room as though he was weightless.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the man looks him up and down, ignoring the way Bucky shied openly away from his gaze, “Let us begin.”

They don’t release Bucky from the restraints while the doctor, Zola, measures him from head to toe, has him flex his new arm, takes his blood pressure and heart rate, checks him for infection. He only occasionally stops to speak to an assistant, who all keep their distance from Bucky, or say something in German to a soldier watching everything. He makes Bucky watch a grainy video of ever-changing shapes, and sticks him painfully with a needle whenever he tries to look away.

“Now Sergeant,” Zola addresses him after nearly an hour of poking and prodding, “Can you tell me a memory of yours?”

Bucky doesn’t even consider, just says the first thing that comes into his brain. Whatever this guy wants, it’s going to be easiest to just give it to him.

“Steve and I were walking along Rockaway beach two years ago. I remember it was nearly dusk, summer, we were watching the sunset and Steve brought some bread to feed the birds. I remember they were swarming us, you show them any kind of food and they all come swooping in. Steve kept laughing because they were trying to land on me. I remember the smile on his face and his eyes matched the water. It was the first time he really laughed since his mother had died. He told me later that he really needed that laugh.”

Zola looks at one of his assistants and gestures to the red book on the table next to him.

“First word: Longing.”

March 10, 1945

General,

We have had limited success reprogramming Barnes so far. Zola has been working extensively with him, and while we are now seeing less incidents of outward aggression to staff or soldiers, his rate of noncompliance has skyrocketed.

Please advise on any alternate methods we should attempt.

Rusted

Bucky tries not to think about his new normal, but the repetition of each day makes that difficult.

Each morning, he’s awoken by a prison alarm and the instantaneous switching on of all the lights in his cell, followed immediately by his first meal of the day served through a slot in the door. Steel door, reinforced, at least four feet thick. Even the new arm doesn’t make much of a dent in it, though he’s tried. God knows, he’s tried.

After breakfast he’s led to the combat cage where he meets with Zola, before being led through drills that he must comply with. Noncompliance leads to pain. Stepping out of line leads to pain. Not eating leads to pain. Not answering a question leads to pain. His whole life revolves around inflicting pain and trying not to get pain inflicted on him.

On bad days, when he’s been too slow or asked one too many questions, they wipe him before lunch. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. There is nothing else to say. It’s beyond unbearable.

On good days, they’d give him lunch and Zola would run his usual tests. Ask him about a memory, ask him about his family, his parents, his sister, his friends. For some reason, it always came back to Steve. Every time, no matter how Bucky tried to steer his brain away from him, it always came back to Steve.

This time he tells Zola about an old motorcycle they had rescued from the junkyard one summer. It was more scrap metal than anything, rusted out from the wind and the rain and the New York winter it had suffered through outdoors, but they had scraped together pennies from odd jobs and had gotten it to run again. It was a blast, to go zipping through the streets of Brooklyn in the dead of night, looking for trouble or whatever they could find, having to stop what felt like every ten minutes to fix some part that had fallen off or sprung a leak. A total hassle, but totally worth it.

After his tests, Zola would send him back to the unnamed soldier who was responsible for his physical activity, this time to put him against enemies. In the beginning, Bucky would refuse to fight them, but in his new quest of not putting himself through more pain if he could help it, he had started obeying the commands given to him, even if that meant using the strange attachment to his body that he hated looking at, that was welded to his skin, the burned and tortured flesh above it just a reminder that he used to be fully human.

After his second round of drills, they either send him to bed and give him dinner an hour later, or they put him in cryo. He longs for the cold metal of the room they keep him in on the nights when he goes to cryo.

It’s the same every single day.

Zola starts saying a new word to him: Rusted.

May 7, 1945

General,

After three weeks, Barnes’ hunger strike has ended. He can barely stand anymore, let alone lift the arm, but he is willing to eat. Zola has suggested that we put him back in cryo and get his weight up so he can at least stand. Your suggestion of a controlled shock each time he refused to eat worked perfectly, we always appreciate your input in the construction of our new weapon.

Seventeen

They let him out of cryo after what they tell him is four weeks. When he looks down at himself, he can’t see his ribs or the sharp definition of his hipbones anymore. They make sure he can stand, that he can punch, that he can shoot a gun. They work on the strength of the punch. Zola is angry that it’s been weakened.

The hunger strike was a stupid idea, it was too much like what Steve would have done, and Bucky would never be Steve, or be with Steve, no matter how much he would like to.

His body is littered with burn marks from the shocks they gave him when he wouldn’t eat, and Bucky winces at the memory of the pain, the memory of his body seizing up and being outside his control. He supposes he should be used to the out-of-control thing by now, but he isn’t, he can’t, because then he’d really have lost.

Bucky hates cryo, he hates cryo almost more than he hates the mind wipe, because at least when his mind was wiped he could still dream. They couldn’t control what he dreamed about, and they didn’t know what he dreamed about. Rather, they never asked him what he dreamed about, therefore they didn’t know.

Bucky thinks about his last dream, the one where he and Steve were on a beach somewhere. Not the Northeast, somewhere tropical, maybe California. They have their toes in the sand and Steve remarks that the sand is so hot here, how do people walk on sand this hot?

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola breaks him out of his thoughts, “Tell me why you stopped eating.”

Bucky looks up at him, he’s so tired. He doesn’t want to fight anymore but he has to, the skinny little kid from Brooklyn with blue eyes and a blinding smile would want him to.

“When I was seventeen my family couldn’t afford food for the week,” the words pour out of him of their own volition, and he’s too tired to stop them, “Dad was out of work, we were desperate. Steve and his mom brought over dinner and made us keep the leftovers. It was a pot roast, best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t want to be a weapon. I don’t want to be your weapon.”

Zola leans back and considers him. A smile spreads across his face.

“What you want doesn’t matter. It never did.”

Bucky wants to hit him with the weapon on his left. He wants it more than anything. But he can’t. He’s not allowed. He really just is a lapdog for them now.

Zola adds a word the next day: Seventeen.

June 15, 1945

General,

It has been noted recently that Barnes is unwilling to lash out or attack any combatants that fit the following profile: blond, blue eyes, male. Zola has insisted this weakness is an asset in his reprogramming and that it will not last. We have brought in two soldiers that match this profile at Zola’s request, I will report any findings.

Daybreak

He’s not Steve, Bucky tells himself over and over as the handsome blond solider smiles at him when he brings him his dinner. They open the door now, just so Bucky can see the man clearly, just so he can see his smile and the slight edge to his light blue eyes. They’re lighter than Steve’s but something in Bucky simply doesn’t care anymore. The eyes were wrong but they were something he could cling to. The hair was just a shade too dark but it reminded him of a different time. The smile was just a little too wide, but he remembered one that was a little softer, a little more slanted.

“I remember watching the sun rise in Germany during the war,” Bucky tells Zola blankly in their meeting that day, so used to the stab of the needle in his skin that he doesn’t even feel it, “Steve told me his favorite time of day was this early in the morning, right at daybreak. He told me that before, too, before he was Captain America, but we got to just sit quietly and watch it, watch the colors. I don’t remember them.”

“Very good,” Zola stands, beckoning to the blond solider to take Bucky to his next assignment.

Bucky walks along silently, head held high as he approaches the cage, where a larger soldier is waiting for him, outfitted head to toe in combat gear. Shouldn’t be a problem.

“Soldat,” Zola stares through the bars of the combat cage minutes later, where Bucky has paused, fist raised above the quivering man in front of him, “Don’t hesitate, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your audience.”

Bucky looks over to Zola, the blond soldier who smiled at him the night before is watching.

Zola’s right, he can’t disappoint him.

“New word,” Zola mutters as Bucky straightens up, shaking his hand to get rid of the red on the metal knuckles, “Daybreak.”

July 4, 1945

General,

Barnes had an unfortunate breakthrough during today’s training. He seemed to remember something from prior to his fall and was unable to complete the mission set in front of him. I am becoming frustrated with Zola, he insists that this is all part of the process, that to break a man down there will be moments of pure weakness, but Barnes is looking less and less like the man we thought he was.

Furnace

Steve is the only thing he thinks of when he has a clear mind anymore.

He doesn’t remember little details of his memory anymore, but he remembers Steve. He doesn’t remember his birthday, but he knows when Steve’s is. He doesn’t remember the smell of spring in Central Park, but he remembers the way Steve wore newspapers in his shoes. No matter what, he knows Steve.

Zola knows this, he uses it against him. Every day, the talks get longer, the punishments get more painful, and the amount of times he’s wiped go up.

“Tell me a memory,” it feels like Zola’s asked this a thousand times now.

“Steve’s furnace in his building broke last winter. We had him over for two weeks until the landlord could be bothered to fix it. Mom loves him so much, she would have him around all the time if he’d let her. He always thinks he can do everything himself.”

“You speak of him as if he’s here. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

That’s the truth.

Zola adds Furnace to the list of Bucky’s words. He can feel himself slipping away every time they’re uttered.

August 12, 1945

General,

Thank you for your visit last week. Your insight into our project is much appreciated. I agree that we must continue to press on, we have no put so much man power and energy into the project it would be a shame to shut it down now. Zola believes that we are close to a breakthrough, despite occasional noncompliance by Barnes.

Nine

It’s starting to get harder and harder to fight against the constant onslaught of change they were forcing on his mind.

He can’t dream anymore, so the cryo chamber at least lets him rest, because the only dreams he has are dark and shadowy. He’s losing his already tenuous grip on himself, his memories becoming indistinct, with only a few bright spots left to cling to in his mind.

“Tell me a memory.”

It takes him a second to think of one. He cowers as Zola stands over him.

“When I was nine we went on a field trip to the Met. Steve made me read all the little cards next to the paintings, even though it made us lag behind everyone else.”

“Do you still think of him?”

Always.

“No.”

“Good. Add Nine.”

September 1, 1945

General,

Zola chose to move forward with giving Barnes the news of Steve Rogers’ death last week. So far, it has proven an excellent tactic in breaking his resolve. After an initial disruption in his usual pattern of behavior (consisting of a violent outburst that left his entire holding cell destroyed followed by a complete emotional collapse), Barnes has been much more compliant in the process.

I believe we may be close to a breakthrough.

Benign

Bucky has been unmade, strand by strand, bit by bit, atom by atom, he has been unmade and put back together for the purposes of following orders, of being a human weapon of mass destruction. There has been so much pain in his unmaking, so much unrelenting physical and mental pain from being ripped apart and put back together over and over and over again.

And yet, none of that pain was like the pain of knowing that Steve Rogers was dead.

Bucky would take it all over again, spend a thousand lifetimes in this room, in the cell, in the combat cage, in the cryo chamber, having his mind wiped like a problem on a chalkboard just so he could unlearn that Steve was dead.

Zola is the one that tells him. He shows him a newspaper in English, then Russian, then German, all with the same headline: Captain America Dead!

Bucky feels like a feather caught in a windstorm, torn to shreds by the whipping downdraft of mother nature’s power, by the power of his own grief.

Bucky knows better than to move while Zola is in the room, but the second that he leaves, the rage, red, blind, hot, overtakes him, and he uses the weapon attached to him, which has become a part of him, to destroy everything he can. The metal table, reinforced with steel, comes apart like wet paper in his hand. He destroys the sink, leaving nothing but powdered ceramic and plumbing hookups behind. He gouges marks into the walls with his fingers, he slams his arm onto the floor. And then? He collapses in the middle of the cold metal room with his cold metal arm, just a cold metal soldier who’s lost the only reason he wanted to get out of here, to stay who he was.

“Come on Buck, we don’t have to do this.”

“When was the last time we snuck into a Dodgers game? It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Steve rolls his eyes, pausing as they waited to cross the street to cough into his jacket. Bucky, almost subconsciously pats his jacket pockets. Good, he’s got an extra one of Steve’s inhalers in case it’s a bad night for his asthma.

“Come on Steve,” Bucky nudges his shoulder as they approach the stadium, “I know it’s been hard recently, but hey, at least we have baseball.”

Steve laughs at that, and gives Bucky an almost radiant smile. Whatever it was, it makes Bucky feel like he has the sun in his chest.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was a date,” Steve jokes as they sneak in behind an older couple, heading up to their favorite spot to watch the game.

“Who says it isn’t?” Bucky is glad his face is hidden in shadow as they make their way up the stairs of the stadium to the very back row, “But don’t think I’m gonna buy you a hotdog or anything.”

“Come on, what kind of girl pays for her own hotdog?” Steve winks at him, and Bucky can’t hide his wide smile at the words that settle themselves right in the middle of his beating heart.

“Soldat. Stand up,” Zola’s voice comes through the speaker, and Bucky can’t comply, he tries, but he’s crushed by the weight of the loss of Steve Rogers, the only person that could pull him out of this, that could undo the work of HYDRA that had been inflicted on his mind and body.

He hears the stomping of boots outside the door, but he still can’t stand, he still can’t make himself be the good lapdog he’s supposed to be. He’s broken, empty, unusable, unloveable.

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, not even thinking about fighting as the soldiers pull him up to standing.

Zola’s voice comes over the little speaker they have in the room, the one that Bucky couldn’t reach to rip to pieces.

“Next word: Benign”

October 29, 1945

General,

Zola had a long conversation with Barnes today. The loss of Steve Rogers is still affecting him. Zola tells me he has a plan, that our work is almost finished.

Homecoming

They take him to the combat cage again. There’s someone waiting for him.

“We have a test for you today,” Zola swings the door open, and he sees that it’s the blond soldier who reminds him of Steve, tied up and bound and already bloody.

Bucky takes a step forward, staring at the terrified man. He feels something, he can’t identify what it is.

“Tell me a memory.”

Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off of the soldier as he speaks.

“When Steve brought us back from the HYDRA base, they called it our homecoming. I wasn’t used to him yet, him being taller than me, being okay with being the center of attention. I wasn’t used to him being different. But sometimes I saw flashes of the old Steve, when he looked at me, when he was drawing on a scrap of a napkin, when he made a joke that everyone laughed at. And then, sometimes I thought he forgot about me. He didn’t need me anymore.”

He looks down at the soldier.

“Kill him, soldat,” Zola tells him, “You don’t need him. You never did.”

The cowering blond soldier might as well be Steve, Bucky can’t tell the difference anymore. He snaps his neck anyway, pretending that he doesn’t feel the shattered remains of his heart split just a little bit more.

“New word: Homecoming.”

December 15, 1945

General,

Only a few more weeks I believe, Barnes has become more and more compliant, completing missions with ease and without hesitation. We put him in front of a live target yesterday, the man captured at the border three weeks ago. Barnes did not even seem to hear his pleas, even though we have been assured he can hear and understand them.

One

He kills easily now. He does it without thinking.

“Tell me a memory.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Good. Add One.”

January 23, 1946

General,

Congratulations. The asset is ready to begin service.

Freight Car

The Winter Solider does not hesitate. He does not disobey orders. He pulls the trigger as easy as breathing. He’s a ghost story, a legend, the new fist of HYDRA.

Zola speaks to him, he answers. A soldier speaks to him, he answers.

“There is one last word to add,” Zola tells him, walking around where he stands, straight, like a steel rod. He’s more metal than man now, anyway, “Tell me about the day you fell.”

“I ziplined onto a freight car. I took out the targets. I fell. I was found by HYDRA.”

Steve was there. He tried to save me. We joked about Coney Island. I miss him, I wish I was with him. I wish I had died when I fell. I wish I could just be Bucky. I don’t want to be a weapon, I just want to be Bucky.

“Very good, soldat. Final word: Freight Car.”

As each word is read, Bucky departs his mind, taken over by The Winter Solider. Each word takes away a layer of memory, a layer of who he was, who he had fought so hard to stay. Now it doesn’t take weeks of time, or months, to unmake him. All it takes is ten words, ten words that connect him completely to Bucky Barnes, yet somehow, ten words that remove him altogether.

Zola finishes the list. Bucky Barnes is long, long gone.

“Ready to comply.”

#stucky #my writing #stucky fanfic #mcu #not spn

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daydreaming-jessi · 4 years

Text

Day seven: free day

The final beetlelands week piece, made it just in time. Here’s to many more!

It was a bit of an atypical day. Sandy had, for homesickness related reasons, brought a metric ton of Saturn sand to the backyard of the Deetz-Maitland home. Lydia wanted to keep it, because it was sand from Saturn, but the sand had to be taken care of lest it ruin their hard worked upon garden. Adam volunteered to help clean it up while Barbara and Beetlejuice elected to stay in and do some spring cleaning in the attic. Well, Barbara was doing spring cleaning.

Beetlejuice, however, seemed to be determined to distract Barbara from said cleaning. “Babs. Hey. Hey Barbara. Ba-arb, look!”

Barbara blew a distracting strand of hair out of her face, carefully wiping dust off the coffee table while Beetlejuice continuously tried to vocally prod her from the couch. She smiled triumphantly at the pock marks being successfully wiped away. It’s taken her quite a few tries to successfully put proper pressure on the cleaning cloth, but with some practice, it was getting much easier to do.

Suddenly arms wrapped around her hips, startling Barbara into dropping the cloth. She hadn’t even heard Beetlejuice get off the couch. “Bee, I’m trying to clean here. If you’re gonna distract me, then go do something else,” she huffed, twisting her head to glare at the demon grinning up at her.

“But Barbara, I wanna cuddle,” Beetlejuice crowed, yanking them both side to side. He batted his eyes adorably, in the way he knew that Barbara had a hard time resisting.

“We could cuddle sooner if you helped me clean up in here,” Barbara replied steadily, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“You and Adam are such neat freaks. What’s wrong with a few decorative cobwebs? Makes it feel homey in here,” Beetlejuice finally let her go to float backwards into a corner of the attic where a home of spiderwebs lay.

Barbara jolted at the sight of the webs. “Because it shows other people we don’t care about our home!” She said, coming over with a new dust cloth to clean the silk up. Beetlejuice stayed stubbornly in place, forcing Barbara to try and reach around his body. She was quickly stopped by a second pair of arms sprouting out from Beetlejuice, grabbing her hands and spinning her.

“A, who is gonna come see our attic, and dos, who cares what other people think? All that matters is that we look creepy and have an excellent aesthetic,” Beetlejuice said, moving to spin Barbara around the attic. She couldn’t help but giggle at the impromptu dance, partially glad for the distraction.

Cleaning the attic wasn’t exactly necessary, Barbara and Adam usually kept it well maintained, and even Beetlejuice kept from tossing things wherever he pleased for them, but Barbara had been drilled by her parents to always keep her home spotless. She didn’t keep to the part that the task was only a woman’s job, she and Adam shared the work equally, as one should, but it was hard to shake off the rest of the teachings.

The two finally stopped their spin in front of the couch, where Beetlejuice swayed back and forth, his eyeballs actually rolling in his eye sockets. Barbara snickered at his antics, but took a step back. “Alright, enough distracting me, you. I still need to sweep under the furniture,” she said.

Beetlejuice leaned backwards with a groan onto the couch, making it creak and sag dangerously. “You literally sweep up here every two days, Babs. There’s not gonna be anything there to sweep,” he pointed out.

Barbara shrugged self consciously. “It’s important to do, in case there is any dust buildup,” she argued.

“Literally, who cares? It’s under furniture, we don’t ever have to deal with it. You know normal people don’t clean attics, right? Chuck and D aren’t, like, expecting you to clean up here, and Adam has sawdust all over his workstation all the time, he ain’t some kind of neatfreak. You’re literally just doing this for nothing,” he pointed out, shooting Barbara a pout.

She tried to think of a counter, but found she had nothing that would satisfy Beetlejuice. “It’s just something I’m gonna do, alright?” She finally said, turning to grab the broom.

Beetlejuice frowned and crossed his arms and legs, looking like a sulking child. “Fi-ine, whatever floats your boat, Barbie.”

Barbara froze, before slowly turning back to Beetlejuice. “What did you just call me?” She asked, her voice strained.

Beetlejuice shot her a strange look, before answering, “Uh, Barbie..?” Barbara’s shoulders rose up, and realization lit up Beetlejuice’s radiation green eyes, and a grin began to stretch across his face. “What, you don’t like it?”

“It’s awful,” Barbara replied flatly, crossing her arms.

“You don’t wanna be called Barbie?” Beetlejuice cooed.

“Why would I wanna be called that dumb dress up doll brand?” Barbara replied, her cheeks blazing red.

“Holy shit, you hate it! That’s hilarious!” Beetlejuice cackled, falling onto his back.

“What’s so funny? I don’t even look like that doll! It doesn’t make sense,” Barbara huffed.

“Oh my god, I am so using this, this is fantastic! You’re so mad!”

Barbara gasped. “Don’t you dare!”

Beetlejuice paused his laughter and shot her an evil grin. “Oh really? Whatcha you gonna do?”

Barbara pointed a finger at him warningly. “I will not hesitate, Lawrie.”

Upon hearing her nickname for him, Beetlejuice’s grin impossibly widened, cracking his jawbones. It was a strange name the ghost couple had come up with, but he loved how warm it made him feel. Beetlejuice raised his hands reassuringly, looking away innocently. “Ok, ok, I’ll be good. No more of that nickname from me,” he said.

Barbara shot him a suspicious look, slowly turning back to her previous task. “Alright…”

“Yup. Not even gonna think of the word, trust me Barbi-“

“That’s it!”

Barbara tackled Beetlejuice on the couch, tucking his legs firmly between her thighs as she sat upon his lap and the air filled with his crackling laughter. She began to dig her fingers into his sides, making the demon jump from the sudden, tickling sensation.

“Weh-! No! No fair, I can’t actually feel your ghost fingers, no!” He wheezed, trying to shove her away.

“I told you, this is just what you get for not listening!” Barbara grinned, using one hand to clamp the demon’s hands above him, her dancing fingers moving from Beetlejuice's expansive belly to his armpits.

“No, stop! Oh my god, stop!” Beetlejuice howled. He managed to wriggle onto his stomach, but found it didn’t help, as she had more access to his neck, and began to kiss it as she dug into his sides, knowing it was just as ticklish as any other spot. “Knock it off, you wraith!” Beetlejuice wheezed, rolling back to his previous position and shoved his feet to press against Barbara’s chest. She giggled, and lurched forward again, her fingers wiggling threateningly towards his sides.

Beetlejuice pushed her back and Barbara found herself hanging against Beetlejuice’s feet above the demon. “Aw, c’mon, that’s not fair!” Barbara laughed, wriggling against Beetlejuice’s surprisingly strong calves.

“I don’t care if it’s fair, I never play fair, Barbie!” Beetlejuice grinned.

Barbara squawked in mock outrage, making grabbing motions at Beetlejuice. “I will get you back for that dumb nickname, you jerk!” She threatened, her smile wider still.

Beetlejuice laughed at how futile her attacks were, watching her for a moment.

Her blond hair was flying around wildly, roughed up from the play fighting, her face was red and she was huffing, slightly out of breath, and her eyes. They were crinkled up with laugh lines, shining brighter than the surface of UY Scuti, bluer than the depths of the ocean, and filled to the brim with care, and they were directed to him. She was laughing so beautifully, filled with adorable snorts and chortles, it made his long dead heart quiver like it was struck with heart attack inducing arrhythmia. He loved these moments, loved how easy and warm they were. Loved that he was never afraid of her and Adam, never had to hide himself from them. He could just lose himself, freely tease them and just enjoy his afterlife. He loved Barbara and Adam so much…

Wait.

Beetlejuice froze, his face falling into one of shock, and Barbara paused upon seeing this. “Lawrie? What’s wrong?” She asked.

Beetlejuice stared at her for a long moment, his hair starting to darken to a gorgeous magenta she’d never seen before. His eyes traced her face, the demon unnerving,h silent, before blinking out of his stupor.

“I love you,” he said, voice breathless.

Barbara froze, staring back at him in shock. He… he said that. He actually said that.

The door opened, causing the two to look up. “You would not believe how much sand a sandworm can carry from Saturn, I’m more dust than ghost right now,” Adam huffed, patting his clothes down as he came in. He looked up and paused upon seeing the scene, before smiling a fond grin.

“What are you two doing now?” He asked, leaning back and crossing his arms. His hair was highlighted with a warm copper tone, dusted a gray-yellow from the Saturn sands, his body framed by the golden sun filtering through the attic windows. His green eyes were twinkling, so fond and happy of the sight before him.

“And I love you,” Beetlejuice said, his voice in awe at the long known realization finally washing over him.

Barbara whipped her head back around to stare wide eyed at a Beetlejuice again, and Adam nearly choked on the sand still built up in his throat.

Beetlejuice seemed to have realized that the room was now silent. His hair became a flustered pink, white and blue. “I-“ he gulped, pale. He’d ruined it, he ruined everything. He went too fast, veered too far off course, he fucked it all up like he always did-

Suddenly Beetlejuice was almost knocked off the couch with an arm full of Barbara. She had his cheeks squished together and was pressing hundreds of kisses to his face. “Love you too, god, I love you too!” She whispered between kisses, reassuring and happy.

They were both enveloped in Adam’s arms as he scrunched into the couch behind Beetlejuice’s back. He pressed a warm, long kiss to Beetlejuice’s ear, grinning widely. “Love you too,” he added, resting his forehead against Beetlejuice’s hair. Barbara chuckled at his long gesture, before looking back to make sure the other colors were gone from Beetlejuice’s hair.

The magenta was back, and the tension was gone. He looked dazed, but there was a huge, drunk grin on Beetlejuice’s face, looking like he’d just been told that hallucinogens were reintroduced to modern medical treatment. “Cool,” he rasped, his voice somehow even more gravelly than before, and his body was lax. He didn’t need to hold onto the Maitlands tight, they were right here, they weren’t leaving. He had all the time in the world to just soak in their softness.

#jessi doodles #beetlejuice #beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice the musical #adam maitland #barbara maitland #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #beetlelandsweek2020 #beetlelands #goldenbeetle

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enby-hawke · 3 years

Text

For I Have Sinned-Chapter 7

Chapter 7- Renewal

Word Count: 14,555 (lol shoot me)

Tw: elf fetishization bordering on non-con but not a major theme, homophobia

Ships: Malcolm/Leandra, Maurevar Carver/Mara Hartling

Follow on AO3

Carver never wanted to be a Templar, but his mother and father had the heir, the spare, and then some, so Carver was dedicated while he was still in the womb. They were proud of their Templar lineage but they didn’t know the sacrifices they forced Carver to make. Carver made them because it was his duty, and he did so with a smile. Even if he hardly saw his family outside of the many duties that filled his days.

No, he found he didn’t have much in common with his parents, who were not even Templars, or his brothers. In all respects he carried their name, but they were just strangers to him, that tried to control his life, and used his good standing like a trophy in their collection.

And there was a disquiet in him as he wielded power over mages. Chantry rhetoric claimed mages were not people. They were classified as living weapons, and yet they cried the same tears, bled the same blood, had the same fears, died just as easily. And he resented how many who he worked with used that power to harm. Carver didn’t know a better way than the Circle, but he often wondered if what they were doing was actually effective, as blasphemous as that statement was.

He found few Templars that agreed with him and counted many mages as friends, even if there were rules that said otherwise.

The fact was that Carver was given the keys to the prison and was free to leave his position at any time. But only through the Chantry could he get lyrium he needed, and he could only get lyrium if he remained a Templar. He thought of leaving, but his own leash held him place well enough.

“I hate to bring this up,” Carver said hesitantly as they started pulling into the streets of the docks towards the Templar station where he’d need to park his car. “But you should clean up your face before we get back. We’ll be caught for sure.”

Carver knew Malcolm better than the family that had given him up, knew him almost as well as he knew himself, even when Malcolm tried to keep secrets from him. And there was no denying that Leandra had changed Malcolm. Malcolm smirked often, but tonight on his face was a true smile, the usual frown lines and sarcasm had gone. He had been humming the songs that they had been singing all night, and had been serving as the radio for Carver as they drove through the streets of Kirkwall. There was no chip on his shoulder, no snarl to his words. Leandra had sanded down the edges until all Carver saw was a happy man in love.

And Carver was scared for them.

Malcolm laughed pulling down the mirrors as he inspected the red smears, wiping his face clean with his sleeve and a bit of magic when the lipstick remained stubborn. Malcolm seemed sorry to wipe off the evidence of the night.

Carver reached into the middle compartment and tossed Malcolm some mints. “Your breath smells like alcohol. Take care of that.”

Malcolm dutifully popped a handful of mints in his mouth, probably not enough to completely cover the smell but it would help.

Carver knew mages were dangerous. He had lost a few templar brethren hunting down apostates, but among the heavier death toll, mages were always the higher casualty, not that his brethren saw it that way. Still, he thought long and hard, trying to find ways to prevent the same tragedies.

“So we should get our story straight,” Carver said, as he pulled into his personal parking space which was marked and always clear for him. Carver could see Malcolm squirm in his peripherals, his lips getting tight as he sucked on his mints but he volunteered nothing. Carver turned off the car, stalling the engine so only ships at sea could be heard. He locked the door before Malcolm could get out and the way Malcolm glared made him look like a cornered wolf. “I know I initially tagged along because I wanted to keep that asshole in line, but I know you’re key to the investigation,” more squirming, some hunching. “Though I still need to interview the other mages at the party, I’ve been reading reports all night and no one seems to know more than you do.”

“I don’t know what’s going on.” Malcolm’s voice was tense in the admission. He played dumb like he always did.

Carver sighed. Obviously a lie, but calling him on it would only make him more evasive. He kept his eyes on the Templar station, an intimidating fortress that imposed the Docks, guarding a private train-line that went over the water and into the Circle.

“So what do you know?”

Malcolm went quiet. Carver glanced over, seeing a hundred thoughts scattering through his mind.

“It was nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he finally said.

“Nor I,” Carver said, worried about that admission.

Malcolm’s hands twisted as he picked at his nails. “What’s going in your report?”

Carver knew it was against the rules to tell anyone, let alone a mage under his care, what he told the Knight-Commander, but he could understand why Malcolm was scared. The Knight-Commander wasn’t the most tolerant of mages, and often criticized Carver’s approach in spite of the results Carver brought. “Only what’s necessary,” Carver hoped that would reassure him but his friend remained tense.

More silence, an internal debate in Malcolm’s head as he decided what to tell.

Carver waited in patience, his gaze expectant.

“The Veil was sundered and torn, but not only that, corrupted,” Malcolm finally said. “I don’t know how but it seemed like the Fade was leaking into reality, like they were merging together.”

That didn’t sound good. He wanted to know how Malcolm knew this but instead he asked, “What could cause that?”

Malcolm avoided Carver’s gaze. “Something dark and ancient and powerful.”

Carver cocked his head unsure of what that meant. “Like a Tevinter magister?”

“Worse than that, dude.” Malcolm laughed uneasily. He actually looked scared. “I don’t think you can arrest this.”

Carver considered what he meant and then it hit him. “Are you saying a demon did this?” Malcolm flinched, keeping silent but Carver knew he was on the right track. “What kind of demon?”

“Terror,” Malcolm admitted. “And it’s big and hungry.”

Carver then realized. “Did you fight it in the Viscount’s Palace?”

Malcolm’s golden eyes blinked up in surprise and he chewed on his lip. “I did, but it’s strong.”

Carver wondered how many battles he was fighting alone, and he knew Malcolm was too prideful to ask so he said, “It sounds like you could use help.”

Malcolm sputtered as if embarrassed. “I don’t think you can help with this, dude.”

If Carver had ego it might have been wounded, but he simply smiled. “It’s my duty as a Templar, and if this demon can sunder reality it is a danger that must be vanquished.”

Malcolm looked uneasy, but he didn’t argue. “So, what’s going in your report?”

Carver knew he shouldn’t but he said, “I think it important the Knight-Commander knows that a dangerous demon is hunting. We need to be prepared.”

Malcolm turned to Carver, pleading. “Don’t say I jumped into the Fade.”

“It’s an important detail,” Carver said, “and impressive as well. You could probably teach your own class with the types of spells you seem to always come up with.”

Was this just because he didn’t want more responsibility? Malcolm’s eyes said otherwise. He recognized someone begging for his life. He had seen it too many times in the countless Harrowings he oversaw.

“It really isn’t,” Malcolm insisted. “Just say we fought a terror demon that opened a rift into the Fade. That’s enough.”

Carver was uncertain. He wasn’t comfortable with lying, but this seemed important to Malcolm. “And then we spent the night chasing it,” Carver finally agreed, seeing Malcolm’s shoulders finally relax. Still, Carver knew there was a huge piece missing from the puzzle, and it somehow had to do with Malcolm, but he knew Malcolm, and he could see him closing himself off like a vault. He had hoped the alcohol might be enough to loosen that tongue, but Malcolm was the most stubborn man he knew. He prayed it wouldn’t lead to casualties. “You’ll tell me what I need to know before it hurts anyone else, right?”

“Of course. Trust me,” Malcolm nodded.

“I do,” Carver said with a grimace. “I just wished you trusted me.”

Malcolm looked hurt by the accusation. “Of course I trust you.”

“But you won’t tell me what I need to know,” Carver said bitterly. He didn’t like how many questions he was still left with.

“I did tell you what you need to know,” Malcolm’s voice was defensive. “The demon will die, soon, and everything will go back to normal.”

Carver doubted that with the evidence he had seen that night, but he knew that would only lead to an argument. So, instead he placed a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “You don’t have to fight your battles, alone.”

Malcolm said nothing to this, but he made a tight nod.

Carver sighed finally unlocking the door and getting out of the car.

Carver left his car at Templar station and they boarded the train, watching the water over the ocean in companionable silence as the tower of the Circle approached. Dawn was just starting to rise over the ocean cut off by the ugly tower that jutted into the sky with its red Circle flags waving in the ocean wind as bronze slave statues curled into themselves against the ocean spray, weeping.

Carver felt sorry that the night was over. He could already see that Malcolm was getting antsy approaching the Circle, his fingers drumming on his legs in a steady beat. He seemed wound up with energy still from the night, which he guessed was good since he probably only got a few minutes of sleep.

Soon they walked off the train and into the courtyard which was still empty, but it would be filled with Templars doing drills. Dawn had broken and so First Bell wouldn’t be too far. Before Malcolm walked back to his room Carver stopped him by a hand on the shoulder. “Remember your promise to Leandra. No lip, and work on your grades.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Malcolm rolled his neck, cracking it nonchalantly. He said it like he was brushing it off, but Carver couldn’t help but notice how alert he was, his posture straighter with a confidence that carried him with every step. As Malcolm walked away, Carver thought this might be the first time Malcolm actually might consider taking something seriously, and he couldn’t help but think he’d have to find more ways to thank Leandra, if for no other reason to bump into that rather whimsical cat-eyed woman who had mischief in her smile.

As Carver made his way down the Templar quarters he found his mind wandering back to Mara. He had met many beautiful women, but Mara had a spunk to her that set her apart and made her shine. He was rather impressed that she stood up to her own man for Malcolm and her loyalty to her lady seemed to go beyond just duty. Admiration. That’s what he told himself was stirring inside him. Any other considerations he had long since buried, but like a stubborn weed, irresponsible thoughts were unearthing.

Carver knew those were thoughts that would go nowhere. He was Knight-Captain, second only to the Knight-Commander. He had a responsibility to his wards and his comrades to be sharp and undistracted and while Templars were not forbidden to marry very few found the opportunity nor the time. Carver himself barely had time in the day to eat so to fully commit to anything like a romance seemed out of the question. Plus, it was clear she already had a man. Still, he hoped Mara would find someone more worthy of her wild adventurous spirit. And the way she inspected him with that scrutinizing stare as he performed for her left a shiver in his spine. He remembered the sassy way she called him “Officer” that stirred something primal in him and he was left unbalanced when she grabbed his arm.

He shouldn’t have allowed the picture. It could ruin everything, but Mara smelled so good he was left dizzy and his spine turned to jelly. And when Gamlen yanked her back from him it took everything not to punch him and ruin the night Malcolm worked so hard for.

It was not his place. Carver was only there to protect Malcolm, nothing else, and he felt a little ashamed that he was even thinking such things. He needed to focus, make sure that Malcolm doesn’t ruin what little standing he has left by taking reckless chances. But he couldn’t help but wish the song he sang Mara was a little longer and that Gamlen had stayed on that curb so he might find an excuse to talk to her again.

The door to the Knight-Commander’s office was intimidating, high reinforced steel bars with a heavy plaque of the red Chantry sun, as if they needed another reminder who ruled over them. Carver went to knock on the door to find that it was slightly ajar, muffled voices coming through the door.

“Knight-Commander, we need to consider that this might have been an attack on the Amell’s or the De Lancets. We need to reinforce security, pull from the Guard if necessary to ensure the nobility’s safety.”

Carver gritted his teeth. It was clearly Meredith’s voice coming from the door. Normally he would commend Meredith for her proactive thinking. She was remarkably fast at getting the men to secure the ballroom, but she made it clear to Carver that she was gunning for his job and he was sure this was just going to be another attempt to undermine his command.

Carver knocked twice before letting himself in, cutting off the Knight-Commander’s reply. Both the Knight-Commander and Meredith’s head flung in Carver’s direction. Knight-Commander Guylian stayed behind his desk, an antique oak with heavy legs, his pale skin popped against the dark leather. He was an older man with a prominent nose, lips so thin they were barely visible and dull grey eyes. He looked fully rested compared to Meredith whose bags from the all-nighter she pulled darkened her creamy skin.

“Good, I’ve been expecting your report,” the Knight-Commander nodded.

“Finally,” Meredith scowled as the Knight-Commander motioned for Carver to come in, but she kept her usual barbs to herself for now.

Carver glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t even 6am. He was not late. Still, he couldn’t help the anxiety creeping up his neck as his Commander stared him down, waiting for him to spin his tale. Carver had become good at lying though, years of meditation and duty hardening him into a beacon of calm.

“Before I go into my report I want to recommend an official reprimand be marked on the Knight-Lieutenant's record.”

Meredith went red, eyes widening in outrage. “What for!?”

Carver felt himself mold into the role of Knight-Captain and addressed her while keeping his eyes on the Knight-Commander. “Instead of assessing the area for culprits she assaulted Taylor Filene. Such behavior will sow disorder and dissent in the ranks.”

“But Taylor Filene might be a culprit,” Meredith barked back.

“Regardless,” Carver continued. “There are procedures if you have suspicions. Threatening your wards in plain sight of the nobility is not.”

The Knight-Commander waited patiently studying both templars under the comfort of his cushioned chair. “This is true. The public must not see such things, Knight-Lieutenant. Our public image must be maintained.”

That was not Carver’s point, but he knew that arguing that it should not be allowed at all would get him nowhere. The Knight-Commander could be a harsh man, himself, and Carver needed to toe the line.

The Knight-Commander tapped his desk with his finger. “But considering the stress of last night I believe an unofficial reprimand will do just fine. Just see that it does not happen again.”

Meredith nodded, suppressing a triumphant smile. “It won’t, Knight-Commander.”

The Knight-Commander leaned back inspecting Carver again. “Now, where did you disappear to last night?”

“I’ve made an unexpected discovery in Malcolm Hawke’s testimony. He was able to identify that it was a terror demon that sundered the veil at the party and he is assisting me as I hunt it down. The hunt took me all over Kirkwall.”

“You had an unsanctioned mage assist you in an investigation?” Meredith sneered, echoing the concern on the Knight-Commander’s face. “Without backup?”

“The Fade interference messed with our electronics. There wasn’t time,” Carver lied quickly, “But I witnessed myself as he closed the rift in the Fade with his magic and calmed the spirits enough to go back, a feat no mage in this Circle I know to be capable of. Without his help, we might have had a bloodbath on our hands. Unsanctioned he may be, but his help may prove invaluable.”

“That oaf? He’ll make a mockery of this investigation,” Meredith sneered.

Carver expected that from Meredith but still he couldn’t help but ask a question he knew the answer to from his reports, “Knight-Lieutenant, what is the status of the Veil?”

Meredith’s lips thinned into a red line. “It appears to be stronger than before.”

Carver kept the grin off his face. “So should I issue you a ‘thank you’ to Malcolm myself or will you?”

The Knight-Commander stared at Carver and he wondered if the uneasiness on his face was suspicion or something else. “Demons do not usually affect the world without outside help. We should not discount Meredith’s theory that this could have been an orchestrated attack on the Amells or De Lancets.”

Carver grimaced. He wasn’t sure if Meredith was right, but he knew from the smirk on Meredith’s face that she would use this more to swing her iron fist.

Then the Knight-Commander asked, “How exactly did Malcolm heal the Veil? I thought using magic only weakened it.”

Carver knew he had to omit a few details but he wanted to keep as close to the truth as possible. Easier to keep track of the lies that way. “He claimed it to be an aura he developed to calm spirits,” he could tell from the look on their faces that they had questions about that and so did he, but instead he distracted them with something else, “I believe he has the potential to be a Spirit Healer. From my observations he seems to be sensitive to their presence.”

Meredith and the Knight-Commander shared a look. Spirit Healers made contracts with beneficial spirits to draw upon great healing magic, the kind that could bring men back from the brink of death. They were incredibly rare and watched ever closely by the templars because of how similarly they functioned to blood mages, and how easily they fell to temptation, but because of their beneficial nature they were still highly sought and prized by the Circle. He could see the arguments warring both on Meredith and the Knight-Commander’s faces.

The Knight-Commander seemed conflicted. “It would be a boon for the Circle, but what makes you think the elf would even do it? He seems insistent to sleeping his potential away.”

Carver put on his most convincing smile. “Give Malcolm a chance. He’s already proved last night he is capable of much more than he’s letting on.”

Meredith slammed her hand on the table startling both the men. “Absolutely not,” she snarled. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

The Knight-Commander’s eyebrow twitched and Meredith reddened, retracting her hand.

“Is that not for me to decide, Knight-Lieutenant?”

“Yes, ser,” she simply responded, her eyes on his desk.

The Knight-Commander leaned forward, resting his fingers on his chin as he thought. “I have an opportunity in mind, but I have reservations about his abilities but since Malcolm managed to not offend anyone at the party…” His calculating gaze locked on Carver as he made his decision. “The Amells and De Lancets will be here for their interviews as well as their Cleansing. If Malcolm can perform without offending them, I may consider speaking with the First Enchanter to rework his curriculum.”

Carver nodded. “I’ll make sure he takes this opportunity seriously.”

The Knight-Commander’s blue eyes were like a faded cloudy day. “See that he does. The Amells are high patrons of the Circle and if they are not satisfied with his performance, neither will I.” It sounded like the threat it was.

Carver nodded, gritting his teeth, a sinking feeling in his gut about how far Malcolm’s place was falling in the Circle. He needed to do everything in his power to make sure he didn’t fall further. Still, Malcolm was one of his best friends and he knew him well enough to know that he would not be thanked for this. But, dangling Leandra seemed to work before. Surely, it would work again.

Mara’s kitchen was a small but cutely decorated space, with duckling wallpaper and colorful appliances and cartoony knickknacks, some that Leandra had gifted over the years. On the fridge was a homemade frame of a picture of a fishing trip with the family when Mara’s parents and grandma were still alive. Leandra, Gamlen and Mara’s grandfather were also in the picture. He was a pale red-headed elf with green eyes and mischief in his smile. The rest of the family shared Mara’s chestnut hair and her dark unhooded cat eyes. Mara and he were both holding large rainbow trouts, Mara’s slightly bigger and she was rubbing it in Leandra’s face since she had only managed to catch a small minnow which she still showed proudly to the camera.

Everyone in the family was laughing, their faces in half-blurs as the Hartlings were never ones to sit still. Only Gamlen remained looking out of place as he glowered at the camera, hot and uncomfortable and always letting everyone know about it. Still, that day was perfect, and the memory of it kept Mara going on her darkest days.

Leandra stared at her phone, sipping at her coffee, her belly full of fried rice, bacon and eggs, helping to stave off an oncoming headache. She had spent many nights sitting at this counter, staying up gossiping with Mara and tonight was no different. Though the pain of exhaustion made her question if anything about the night was real, Mara was there to confirm every detail. And there was more evidence, in her picture, Malcolm was pressing against her cheek, looking as dazzling as in her dreams except now she had the memory of his clover musk that she sorely missed. She didn’t recognize the smile on her face, or how Mara let her hair get so messy, and now that she was slowly sobering up, she realized she was dumbstruck by her own actions.

She realized with profoundness, that she would repeat everything exactly the same. She had never felt so brave except at Malcolm’s side and now that he was gone the whimsy of the night was over. The reality of her fiancé and her parents were coming back to her. She’d need to face them, soon.

“He really fills out that suit, doesn’t he?” Mara hummed, placing her chin on Leandra’s bare shoulder.

Leandra hummed in agreement, admiring how Malcolm’s suit cut a striking silhouette, until she registered what Mara said and smacked her playfully on the arm. “Eyes to yourself, lady, he’s mine.”

“Oh, please, your man’s too skinny,” Mara waggled her eyebrows. “I was talking about Ser Herculean Statue.”

“Mara,” Leandra guffawed, scandalized. “What if Gamlen heard?”

Mara pulled away, rolling her eyes as she departed for the sink in a hasty retreat. “I’m just looking. It’s not like I don’t catch Gamlen’s eyes wandering. Neither of us are blind, y’know.”

Mara seemed tense at the mention of Gamlen, and she immediately began scouring the pots to put in the dishwasher. Leandra bit her lip. She knew that they spent at least fifteen minutes talking in Mara’s room before Gamlen decided to take a nap and Leandra was unsure if Gamlen would bother to show up for the Cleansing. Mara and Gamlen were still together, but for the first time Leandra was unsure about their future and she could see how uneasy this was making Mara.

Mara washed off her cat eye makeup making her eyes look more almond shaped and they were red from tiredness, but Leandra looked at the irritated rims of her eyes and knew she had been rubbing them. Her lips were paler and a more natural pink and her hair was still damp from the shower she had. She looked much more comfortable in her baggy t-shirt that looked like it belonged to Gamlen at one point and plain plaid sweatpants.

“How are things with Gamlen?” Leandra asked hesitantly.

Mara’s shoulders tensed before she opened up the dishwasher and deposited the pan with some force. “Oh, it’s peachy.”

Leandra abandoned her place at the counter to saddle up beside Mara to help her wash. She picked up a stray plate and started rinsing the grease from it.

“Your mother will kill me if you ruin your manicure doing servant work,” Mara took the plate away from her to take over but Leandra just picked up another.

“Who cares about my mother? We’re talking about you right now,” Leandra sniffed as she scrubbed off some stubborn onion that was sticking to the plate. Leandra’s polished white-tipped pointed nails were soon covered in bacon grease. Leandra gritted her teeth. “You know he’s my brother, but you can always be honest with me.” Leandra met Mara’s uncertain gaze as she paused to bite her lip. “About anything.”

Mara took the plate from Leandra, placing it in the dishwasher. She was silent, but Leandra could tell there was something Mara was keeping from her. “Promise not to tell, Gamlen?”

“I won’t say a word,” Leandra nodded, abandoning the chores to give Mara her full attention.

Mara tucked a wet strand behind her ear as she leaned her back against the sink. “I’ve been with Gamlen for as long as I can remember. I know I love him but…”

“But…?” Leandra echoed as Mara trailed off.

Mara kept her eyes to the ground. “Seeing the way you are with Malcolm…maybe I’m a little jealous.”

Leandra dropped her mouth. Mara? Jealous of her and Malcolm? She was blushing at the idea considering the years she spent in envy in the reverse position.

“I just met Malcolm last night,” Leandra blubbered. “You and Gamlen have had a solid relationship for years. Malcolm and I are too new to even label our relationship. And the fact that I’m about to be married in two months, you have nothing to be envious over.”

Mara looked at Leandra biting her cheek. “See that’s the thing. Malcolm looks at you like he’s seen the sunrise for the first time. I’ve never seen a man look so devoted,” Mara looked sad, meeting her gaze hesitantly. “And you have never looked so happy beside him. I think you found something real. And I want that…”

Leandra felt a rush of warmth at the thought, before her rational mind took over and started tearing the fantasy apart. This was too new for her to even name what she was feeling for him. She was still engaged. Very, very engaged, and though she was angry at her parents, she wasn’t so angry that she would throw her whole future away over one wonderful night, no matter how perfect everything felt. Still, as she looked at her friend’s uncertainty she knew she had to reach out for her hand and ask, “You don’t think you have something real with Gamlen?”

Mara froze, her eyes dropping again. “I...don’t know.” Then she forced a grin, “He gives me a real headache.”

Leandra laughed in spite of herself, but she knew Mara was just joking to avoid talking too seriously. “I won’t lie and say I don’t want you and Gamlen to work, but if you’re unhappy-”

“I’m not,” Mara said a little too quickly and returned to cleaning the dishes. “I’m probably just still mad about last night. Just ignore me.”

Leandra could sense the broiling emotions under Mara, but she nudged Mara’s shoulder with her own before returning to the dishes. “You’re hard to ignore, Mara.”

A pleased smile pulled on Mara’s lips, her cheeks blushing just a shade pinker.

Suddenly Leandra’s phone rang from her purse, and Leandra wiped her hands on the hand towel and went to retrieve it. She recognized from the chiming wedding bells that it was Guillaume. Sure enough his name with the screen photo showing Leandra and him on one of their dates to their favorite restaurant at la Rose’ de Safran, a ritzy Orlesian place where their portions were smaller than their wine glasses. She couldn’t help but take a moment to compare how fake her smile seemed as she posed with him keeping a professional distance apart even as they held hands.

She let only one more annoying bell ring before she answered the phone, her voice cloaked with peppy energy even though she felt so exhausted she was sure she’d fall asleep on the kitchen counter. “Guillaume, what a surprise. Why are you calling so early?”

Guillaume’s slightly Orlesian accent filtered through the speakers, grating her nerves with anxiety even though his voice was calm and soothing. “I heard you had a fight with your parents last night and I wanted to help if I could.”

She was touched and suddenly flooded with guilt. Guillaume was still her friend and a true one and she was deceiving him. “I’m not sure how you could help, but thank you for the thought,” she almost mumbled the words as she struggled to keep herself calm and breathing even.

“I thought I’d offer you a ride to the Cleansing if you would like, to give you more space between your parents. We can get a cup of coffee and talk.”

It was just like him, incredibly thoughtful, and the confusion about what the right thing to do was made her dizzy and hesitant. Usually talking with Guillaume would unburden her, but she immediately thought of Malcolm and the jealous look in his eye and how badly she just wanted to belong to only him. How she wanted to come clean and tell Guillaume the truth right there. Would he judge her? He never had before?

But she wouldn’t. She still didn’t even know what was happening to her heart, and all these urges to make irrational decisions scared her.

She took in a shallow breath. “You’re right that I’d rather not face my parents,” she admitted, not wanting to say yes, but the thought of a car ride lecture all the way to the Circle was less preferable.

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Merveilleux, I’ll be at your house in less than ten minutes.”

“Actually come to Mara’s.”

Leandra tried to get Gamlen out of Mara’s bed plush polkadot duvet but he was snoring so forcefully he was ruffling his bangs. After shaking him firmly once he told her to ‘bugger off’ and she decided she wasn’t going to do what she normally did and fuss over him and drag him to his duties. He was a full grown man. If he wanted to let his aura fester that was his problem.

She texted her family’s group chat to not send the car to Mara’s because Guillaume was picking her up and though she expected an argument over that she didn’t get one. Just a firm reminder to not be late. She tried to distract herself with social media, but soon enough all the congratulation messages and worried ‘are you ok?’ messages about her betrothal ball found her sorely missing Malcolm.

She wished she could post that picture, let everyone know of the wonderful man she found and share her happiness, but she would hurt Guillaume deeply and knew she would get no congratulations. So she traced Malcolm’s lips with her thumb, wishing things were simpler so she could just enjoy this feeling.

Soon Guillaume’s town car pulled into Mara’s driveway and Guillaume stepped out.

Leandra stiffened, brushing herself off as she approached him, smiling in greeting. She couldn’t miss the way his eyes raked her from head to toe taking in her look. She told herself she should appreciate it. Mara had worked hard helping her pluck, smooth out her hair, paint on her face and vet her outfit. Still, she wished that Mara had clothes that didn’t always cling so close or reveal so much. It was almost impossible to find something appropriate to meet her future in-laws in.

“Are those Mara’s?” His tone was appreciative.

She tucked hair behind her ear as she shyly hid her figure behind her purse. Normally Leandra’s day wear consisted of airy dresses that were modest but fashionable, but today she had on a loose black knit sweater that hung off her shoulders and a bold peacock patterned pencil skirt that hugged every curve. She was still wearing her red heels from last night since her feet were too small for Mara’s shoes. “It looks awkward on me, right?”

“Not at all,” his smile gleaned as he stared appreciatively at her bare shoulders. “I’d say it’s a fetching look.”

No blush came to Leandra’s cheeks but instead she made a strangled sound in her throat.

Guillaume opened the door for her, chuckling. “I’d say I left you speechless, my lady.”

Leandra chuckled nervously as she ducked into the car.

He soon joined her on the other side, the cabin cozier than she wished it. He nestled in close and it took all of Leandra’s willpower not to shy away from him as he took her hand. His hand felt wrong, too large, too imposing. It didn’t feel at all like comfort though she wondered if it ever did. His amber eyes burrowed into her in questioning. “So what happened with your parents?”

She didn’t feel at all like sharing but she did because she thought she should. “They tried to fire Mara.”

Guillaume made a dramatic gasp into his spare hand. “No, they can’t.”

“I said they tried. I rehired her,” Leandra found herself looking at the window rather than at Guillaume, if only so she would stop catching him staring at her shoulders.

“That was quick thinking, ma chérie,” Guillaume squeezed her hand. “Do you need any financial assistance in the matter? I would be happy to lend any assets.”

Leandra felt herself get hot and quickly said, “No, no, that’s not necessary,” she shook her head so violently her ponytail swayed from side to side. “I’ll have to cut back on a few expenses but Mara is more important than frivolous things like spa days.”

“Maker,” Guillaume shook his head. “You are a stronger woman than me. I need my spa days.” Guillaume laughed at his own joke and Leandra joined in politely until his laugh trailed off and was replaced with a silent tension. “Ma chérie, I have a confession to make,” his voice was as tense as his shoulders.

Leandra turned to face Guillaume, her gut plummeting. “Yes?”

“You know my mother is a very religious woman,” Guillaume looked at Leandra, and then tucked a hair back in place fondly. Leandra withheld a shudder. “The haunting has spooked her. She thinks it’s a curse on your family and she wants to call off the wedding.”

Leandra blinked, her heart fluttering and she almost caught herself smiling but she knew from Guillaume’s face that this was a huge source of anxiety for him and she felt herself being pulled by two ropes. She knew she should say something and he was expecting her to, but she was trying not to thank the Maker out loud so she did so in her head. She schooled her face into a frown, and said, “How terrible,” as convincingly as possible.

It worked because Guillaume brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “We have to convince her not to.”

This time she did shudder. She knew she should agree and try to use this car ride to strategize but Leandra felt her shoulders dropping. “Do you really want to?” she actually asked. She clapped her hand over her mouth as soon as the question escaped. She could see the hurt written on Guillaume’s face and he dropped her hand.

“Of course I do! Do you?”

“I…”Leandra tried to make her face unreadable but her voice was caught in her throat and she hesitated and this time he noticed.

Guillaume immediately straightened his shoulders like a soldier. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing!” Leandra blurted. “Guillaume, you’re wonderful, it’s just…” she gulped, trying to find the words and still feeling the effects of the residual alcohol in her system she found herself being a little more honest than she usually dared. “We were promised as kids. Do you not ever wonder if there is someone else out there? Someone perfect for you?”

Guillaume’s shoulders dropped, looking defeated, and his eyes actually watered before he turned away. “I thought you were perfect for me.” Then his jaw clenched, his mustache twitching. “Did you find your perfect someone? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Leandra didn’t realize she was such an open book, and she had forgotten how well Guillaume could read her. “No,” she shook her head and clasped both his hands like she used to try to reassure him even though her words were dripping with lies. “It’s nothing like that, just pre-wedding jitters.”

“Because I’ll back off,” he continued looking hard at her, inspecting every minute reaction. “Just be honest with me, Leandra.”

Her heart was suddenly in her throat as she tried not to squeak. She wanted to. She wanted to tell him everything, but there was a hardness in his gaze that made her quiver. Was she really going to ruin her future her parents prepared for her over a man she had only met last night?

She opened her mouth and said, “Let’s find a way to convince your mother not to call off the wedding. I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

She had no idea if she made the right decision, but the way Guillaume’s shoulders relaxed made her breathe easier. Did he notice that she did not say no? He had already seen through her the first time. She wasn’t sure how convincing she was being.

Guillaume patted her hand fondly and said, “That’s why we’re getting coffee. It’s always good to start a negotiation with a bribe.”

Leandra smiled, feeling it unnatural on her face. She had no idea how to act around Guillaume now that he was suspicious and she was trying her best not to give anything else away. She let him hold his hand as he pitched his ideas of what they would say and she nodded along as she panicked. Little did she know the Maker had twisted fate to test her a little more that day.

Malcolm had a skip to his step as he walked to breakfast, whistling so merrily that the sound echoed through the stone in an unnatural cheer. Nothing could darken his mood; no ugly sneer from a templar, nor the bars on the windows or the winter chill in the air. His backpack was slung over his shoulder, actually filled with what he needed for his day's study, though his textbooks were vandalized with doodles and blasphemy.

He was still flooded with energy from Leandra’s kisses and the wheels in his head were working in overdrive to figure out a way to escape again. Could he manage it, tonight? Two breakouts in a row would be risky. He was so in his head, planning and scheduling details he didn’t notice that people were pointing and gossiping about him as he waited in line for breakfast. He found Taylor and Charlie in the usual spot on the corner table where they were looking at him in confusion and worry.

“Are you alright?” Taylor’s eyebrows knitted together as she picked at her bowl of porridge mostly untouched.

Instead of Malcolm’s usual brush-off he just pulled his thick eyebrows together in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Charlie and Taylor shared a look before Taylor said, “You disappeared last night after the haunting. I feared the worst.”

Malcolm shrugged. “Carver brought me along on an investigation. Nothing serious.” He wanted to tell them the truth about Leandra but Charlie was probably the biggest gossip in all the Circle. If Charlie even got a whiff that Malcolm was seeing someone, everyone would know by lunch.

Charlie broke out in an excited grin. “Nothing serious? Are you kidding? Rumors are you saved everyone last night and now the Knight-Captain is recruiting you personally to help?”

Malcolm tried to remain nonchalant but he couldn’t help the puff in his chest. He really felt like things were turning around. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess I’m kind of a big deal now.”

Taylor shook her head, though even she was grinning. “Don’t let that head get too inflated with hot air. If it wasn’t for Carver you’d have gone home with the rest of us.”

Malcolm harrumphed. That was true but she didn’t need to say it. Malcolm scooped up his porridge, the sludge looking cold and unappetizing, but with a grin, he weaved a subtle spell in his mind and scooped the porridge into his mouth. Instead of a bland mush he felt a bursting array of sweet, tart strawberries and cream and he groaned in ecstasy as his tongue remembered the feel of Leandra’s kisses caressing him. He immediately licked the spoon clean and scooped up another generous helping, groaning again. The texture was off, lumpy and slimy, but that was something easily ignored.

Taylor and Charlie stared in confusion. “The food here is not that good.”

Malcolm grinned offering his hand to Taylor. “You got to try this new spell I made. Take my hand.”

Taylor stared skeptically at the hand, being the butt of too many pranks to trust it. “I don’t think so,” she wrinkled her nose.

Malcolm rolled his eyes. He could have cast the spell directly on her but if he was caught casting spells outside of class that would be more trouble. So he moved his hand to Charlie. “Take my hand, dude.”

Charlie grabbed it without hesitating. “Sure.”

Malcolm changed the spell slightly in his mind channeling it into his friend. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Now, try a bite.”

Charlie hesitantly took a bite of his porridge before his eyes bugged out in amazement. Then immediately one handed he started gobbling up his food so fast he was getting it on his face. He was hardly breathing as he inhaled bite after bite.

Malcolm couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what I had for dinner last night.”

“How is it still steamy?” Charlie’s full mouth was dripping with mush.

Taylor leaned forward, suddenly keen and interested. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Malcolm tried to hide the pride in his voice but he had to thank Scholar for the idea and all that talk about what taste is. This new deal with him had really gotten Malcolm’s wheels turning. “It’s a simple illusion spell, actually. Even Charlie can manage it.”

Taylor cocked her head as she started putting it together. “Illusion? You mean you’re substituting visual stimuli for gustatory?”

Malcolm blinked in confusion. “If that means I tweaked the illusion spell to focus on my memories of good food then yes.”

Taylor muttered, doing some calculations under her breath. “So if any memory will work then…” She dipped her mostly untouched porridge and took a bite, her violet eyes watering. “I haven’t tasted Mamae’s matzah since I was a girl.” She blinked back the tears before they could fall and she stared at Malcolm with a newfound respect. “Malcolm, this is absolutely brilliant.”

“Thank you, I feel brilliant,” Malcolm grinned. “Think Enchanter Jakoby will take the spell as extra credit?”

“I don’t see why not?” Taylor went to take another bite before she stopped blinking back at Malcolm. “Why are you asking about extra credit?”

Malcolm suddenly felt embarrassed, like he was caught doing something weird. “Dunno…just thought it would be a good idea.”

Taylor beamed at him with a knowing smile. “I think Enchanter Jakoby would be proud, too.”

If Malcolm’s skin could go red, it would. “That’s not what it’s about,” he muttered, scooping a lobster infused porridge into his mouth with his free hand to avoid talking more.

“You said I can manage it?” Charlie asked, still gripping Malcolm’s hand. He looked at the last bite of his bowl like he was sorry that he had eaten it so fast. “I can barely light a candle without sweating. How am I supposed to do something so complicated?”

Malcolm squeezed, feeling odd that he was holding a man’s hand, or anyone’s hand other than Leandra’s, but the gesture didn’t feel out of place. “It’s not complicated. You just need to practice. I’ll help.”

Charlie sniffed, rubbing off some of the porridge on his face with a napkin. “Thanks. It’d be nice to eat some nice food before I get tranquilized and can’t appreciate it anymore.”

The table went silent at the thought as Charlie scooped up the last bite. Malcolm and Taylor both looked at each other in worried silence as Charlie savored it. Finally Taylor leaned in and placed her hand over Charlie’s fist. “You’re not getting tranquilized.”

“You don’t have to humor me,” Charlie said stiffly. “I overheard the templars talking. There’s no way I’ll survive the Harrowing.”

“They’re just bastards. You can,” Malcolm said earnestly, though his voice sounded frail in his anger. Carver had managed to put off Charlie’s Harrowing for as long as possible while Malcolm and Taylor tutored Charlie in their spare time and his magic had improved steadily, but he was not built for fighting. Now his Harrowing was any day, and they waited each night wondering if today was the last.

“Passing the Harrowing is all about believing in your own ability,” Malcolm said. “You can’t let these doubts shake you.”

“They’re not doubts, dude, they’re facts,” Charlie’s voice was not laced by melancholy but filled with pragmatism, like he had already accepted his fate and that twisted Malcolm’s gut.

It was times like these when Malcolm wanted to burn everything to the ground.

“I knew you two were fairies,” a sneering voice said behind them. Malcolm and Charlie dropped hands blushing to find that Matthew, the Templar, had approached their table and from the look in his eyes he was in a cruel mood.

Malcolm opened his mouth to give lip but he immediately swallowed it remembering his promise to Carver and then turned back to his food with a sigh. “And here I was actually enjoying my morning.”

“My bad,” Matthew chuckled. “You’re clearly in the honeymoon period. My sincere congratulations.”

“Sometimes bros hold hands,” Charlie sank down in his seat, his shoulders hunching.

Malcolm snarled. “Do you really not have anything better to do with your time?”

Matthew smirked, motioning for Malcolm to follow him. “You dumb? You owe me something.”

Malcolm’s stomach dropped. In all the commotion with Leandra and the haunting he had forgotten about Matthew’s order and he wouldn’t be the only one looking. Malcolm reluctantly left his seat to take his conversation with Matthew in private. He was lucky he was still in public where someone could get Carver if necessary. There was no way he would leave with Matthew alone.

Matthew led him to the same barred window overlooking the ocean and Kirkwall’s skyline. His skin was noticeably yellower and his eyes more bloodshot, and darkened with bags.

Malcolm nervously shoved his hands in his pockets speaking lowly. “Look, it’s not here, yet. Didn’t you get the memo about me being pulled on some investigation?”

The man snarled. “I had to work that fiasco last night and got no sleep. But the fact still is I need it today.”

“Tonight, then,” Malcolm countered. There would be no going around that. He missed the drop-off and it was still waiting where his contact left it.

Matthew looked like he wanted to argue but the Second Bell rang, signaling it was time for everyone to go to classes.

“Tonight,” Matthew sneered then stalked off, disappearing into the flood of students moving.

Malcolm sighed in relief, never having been so grateful to hear that bell. He walked back to Taylor and Charlie who looked as relieved as he was.

He set his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Stay tough, man. I’m not giving up on you, so don’t you give up either.”

Charlie sighed as if he was tired but he smiled back. “Yeah, sure.”

Malcolm wished that didn’t sound so sarcastic.

“Guess I’ll see ya’ll later, then,” Malcolm hoisted his bag over his shoulder, leaving his tray abandoned at the table.

Taylor raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never seen you eager to go to class.”

“I’m not eager,” Malcolm argued, walking backwards. “I’m resigned. Devastated. Can’t wait to graduate.”

Taylor actually laughed at his joke along with Charlie as she picked up her bag. “Whatever, Malcolm. See you in class.”

Charlie looked at Malcolm’s food with puppy eyes as he started shuffling away. Malcolm couldn’t help the little smile on his lips when he heard, “I can’t believe I’m looking forward to lunch.”

Malcolm wandered through the flow of traffic into the hallways to his first class, Creation Studies, ran by Enchanter Karena, a conservative biddy who didn’t like when Malcolm corrected her on anything, even if she was teaching things wrong.

She went by the book and by the book only, even though Malcolm found that most of how magic was taught was backwards and counter-intuitive, based on ritual rather than usefulness. She was very religious and that seeped into every lesson. She saw other schools of magic as evil, finding that Creation was the only one deemed blessed by the Maker, even though the whole practice relied on channeling the healing energies of beneficial spirits, which made the whole thing sound like Chantry sanctioned blood magic when you thought of it. Something she did not appreciate hearing from Malcolm.

When he saw the silver haired woman, she was arguing with Carver, her wrinkled face so red she looked like an aged tomato but that stopped as soon as Malcolm walked through.

Carver was here. That wasn’t good. Still Malcolm hadn’t broken any rules that Carver didn’t help him with.

Enchanter Karena whirled around, her perfectly pinned bun falling slightly out of place. “Messere Hawke,” she sniffed overly politely.

Malcolm resisted the urge to poke at her and took his seat with an acknowledging nod, but Carver walked over to his desk.

“Pick your stuff up. You don’t go to this class anymore.”

Malcolm blinked. “What?”

“Absolutely not. That blasphemer has no business doing Cleansings or learning the sacred art of Spirit Healing. Those are for only the Maker’s chosen,” Enchanter Karena argued.

“Pardon, Senior Enchanter, but if Malcolm has the talent, I believe he falls into that category.”

Malcolm snorted at the way the Senior Enchanter’s mouth puckered in such a scowl it looked like a dog’s asshole. But then he registered what Carver said. “I’m doing what?”

Carver smirked. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Now c’mon.”

The other students looked on in wonder as Carver led Malcolm out of the classroom and back out into the hallway. Gossip started flowing from the classroom and Malcolm sighed. He was already sick of the spotlight.

“So I’m guessing I don’t have a say in this,” Malcolm grumbled as he clenched the strap of his bag.

“Do you ever have a say in anything?” Carver quipped.

Malcolm grumbled. “You can be such an ass.”

“Not denying that,” Carver grinned. “But I’m on your side.” He nudged Malcolm’s shoulder, the metal biting into him. “Trust me, this will be good for you.”

Malcolm’s shoulders slumped. How many times had he heard that?

“Would you perk up if I told you we’re going to see Leandra?”

Malcolm did, his back straightening like an arrow as he jerked in full attention. “It’s her Cleansing?”

“Her family’s Cleansing and her fiancé ’s, so behave. I can’t babysit you with all these interviews.”

Her fiancé. He had almost forgotten he existed at all in that perfect night together. Still, Malcolm readied himself like he was going into battle. “I can handle that jerk.”

“He’s actually quite a nice guy,” Carver quipped, already grinning as the scowl rose from Malcolm.

“Oh, how great is he? He’s Orlesian,” Malcolm shoved his hands into his pockets hunching.

Carver laughed heartily, knowing he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was, but if he could only tell him that he didn’t need to worry, because Leandra always looked at him like she was mesmerized by his existence. But Carver didn’t know how this story would end, and he also knew the Amell’s a little more intimately through Revka. She had once confided in him in a visit about how she’s all but disowned by the family for birthing so many mages. It would be a hard-fought journey, no question.

Malcolm felt jittery. Would her brother be there? What would happen if he opened his big mouth and ruined everything? He didn’t seem like the type loyal enough to keep a secret. Still, the promise of seeing Leandra so soon after they had parted was too tempting, even paired with less appealing company. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like this was his first impression on her family, and he did want to impress them. Suddenly he found himself a bundle of tight nerves and he found himself needing to emanate his own calming spell to soothe himself.

The healing quarters were filled with incense and Chantry symbols and candles even though modern lighting was installed. There was something to be said about creating a healing space to perform, but Malcolm felt like the Chantry sisters were just a little too attached to those candles. Malcolm wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or pleased to see that Enchanter Jakoby was there.

The three other mages were a bit older and looked at him curiously as the Chantry sisters readied the quarters for the nobility’s arrival. He saw a pale elf with black hair and a rather bird-like features whisper to a man who looked like a vampire for his skin was so lucid it looked like it never touched the sun.

The ghoulish man laughed at the elf’s whisper and Malcolm shivered at the sound for it seemed to belong to a horror film. The vampire was angular with scrutinizing silver eyes that were as cold as steel and he looked at Malcolm in interest while Malcolm tried his best to ignore him. The third mage seemed to fade into the background for how much presence she made. She was a plumpish woman with tan skin and wavy hair that hid her eyes. She avoided everyone else in the room and looked like she’d rather not be there.

Enchanter Jakoby clasped hands with Carver greeting him. “Ser Carver, thank you again for your intervention last night.”

Carver nodded humbly. “Only doing my duty.”

“Well, we’re blessed to have you,” the Enchanter beamed before his smile turned playful at Malcolm, “and we’re blessed to have you, too.”

Was Malcolm pleased that Enchanter Jakoby wanted him in his classroom? He found any snarky reply that he would have said died in his throat. It was a nice change of pace since he was used to being seen as the local pain in the ass, but part of him felt like he was giving in too easy. “So, you’re just making me a Spirit Healer? Don’t I have to pass some test?”

“The Cleansing will be your test,” the Enchanter nodded. “If the Amell’s are satisfied with your performance then you’ll graduate into a full Enchanter and into my class as well as take on new duties.”

“Great,” Malcolm tried not to make that sound sarcastic but it still laced his voice. “So I’m the school nurse now. Any other surprises?”

“As part of your graduation requirements you will be required to help tutor younger apprentices.”

Malcolm’s face twisted. Now this was unacceptable. “You really want to put me with kids? The guy that says fuck every other sentence?”

Enchanter Jakoby looked amused. “Don’t worry. Since you're graduating out of season it’ll be at least a week to arrange the paperwork and find a class for you. You’ll have some time to practice substitutes. Try fudge.”

“No fucking way,” Malcolm snorted.

Carver cleared his throat, glaring at Malcolm.

Malcolm almost blurted out, ‘no fudging way’ just out of habit, but Carver’s stern glare kept the insolence in his throat and he sighed reluctantly. “I mean, I’ll find a way.”

He didn’t realize it would be so hard to keep this promise.

Enchanter Jakoby mouthed ‘thank you’ to Carver who only nodded in response.

Carver then turned to Malcolm with a stern look. “Remember your manners in front of the nobility.”

Malcolm cracked out the tension building in his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

With that Carver abandoned him to class.

The next hour was spent in instruction by Enchanter Jakoby not about how to perform Cleansings, as that was a simple thing that most proper Enchanters could manage, but how to address the nobility. There was a lot of protocol about where to stand, how to address a Lord, how not to stare directly in one’s eyes to offend. There were so many ways to offend.

Malcolm tried his best to listen like he promised, but he found his mind had gotten in a habit of tuning the Enchanter’s voice out and so he kept catching himself daydreaming about Leandra’s kisses. Malcolm was nervous trying to learn all these new rules but from what he figured the best policy was just to stick to the background and just not bother to talk to anybody unless they needed him. How he was even going to get a word to Leandra he had no idea.

Then they were each handed a staff to use, just simple metal rods only used for channeling and not fighting. The Enchanter reached through the Veil coating himself with magic, instructing his students to do the same. Malcolm could hear the whispers of the excited spirits answering his summons, flooding their energy into him so he burned the brightest of them all, making the others glance nervously at the difference.

The Enchanter couldn’t help but beam at the fact that Malcolm was taking instruction so well. No chiding needed. No snark. His eyes were closed in concentration, the colors coming off his flames reflecting rainbows.

“We start by Cleansing our own auras, because if we ourselves are infected then we will infect our subjects. Now clear your minds and breathe with me.”

Every mage in the Circle learned how to cleanse their auras from a young age. It was necessary in order to not attract demons in the Fade, so it felt like they were back in Basics as they sat in silence just listening to their own heartbeats as they opened themselves up to the Fade. “If you have doubts or pain or fears open them up now and offer them to the Maker.”

Malcolm tried not to snort but the sound still echoed through the chamber. In all his walkings of the Fade he had never heard the voice of a God of any kind, just spirits. Still they were eager to pluck up the darker thoughts in his mind until his own thoughts echoed back at him.

You’re being stupid. She’s a noble. And human. She’ll betray you. Or abandon you. Why are you trusting her? What about your plans to escape? She’s going to ruin everything.

The spirits picked at the thoughts in curiosity, like they were baubles in a shop.

“Don’t give the thoughts power. Just offer them up to the flame and let them be transformed,” the Enchanter instructed.

Malcolm’s aura lit up in a cloak of flames as the spirits combed through old pain, touching upon his deep-seated anger so he could taste it on his teeth. They poured through his memories so they flowed through him, the good and the bad. His mom, his dad, being kidnapped to the Circle, meeting Carver, Taylor and Charlie, Gamlen’s ugly judgement, Leandra’s righteous anger, burning with jealousy as he watched her on Guillaume’s arm, how she grabbed his tie at the karaoke club and kissed him in front of everyone. The spirits ended up latching onto Leandra’s song, the lyrics filling him with peace as they echoed it in his head and he focused on that until the rest of the doubts floated away until all was left with music.

“That’s no good. You’ll cleanse no one with that aura.”

Malcolm opened his eyes but the Enchanter, whose flame burned bright and blue wasn’t speaking to him but to the mousy woman who hid her face. Her flames were dark, purple and smoky and she seemed to be having difficulty with connecting with the Fade.

The woman stopped the spell breathing heavily. “I’m sorry, Enchanter, I’m just not feeling well today.” Her shoulders looked shaky from the spell.

The Enchanter frowned sympathetically, closing his connection to the Fade until his bright blue flaming aura died in a smoke. “Well, you won’t be able to participate like that. You may sit out for the noble’s Cleansing but you’ll need to stay and observe.” He then turned to the three men with a pleased smile motioning them to end the spell with a calm wave of his hand.

“Gentlemen, very well done, especially you Malcolm. I believe you have a talent for this.”

The other men glanced at Malcolm as he swelled, but their heads quickly snapped back as their names were called.

“Orsino, Quentin, why don’t you all get acquainted by teaching Malcolm the basics about performing a Cleansing on another person. Be brief though. The nobility arrives any minute now.”

“Yes, Enchanter,” they spoke in unison like it was rehearsed.

The Enchanter then turned to the other mage. “Melissa, over here. I’ll have to take care of your aura, later.” He dragged her away to one of the spare cots in the room.

Then the men both turned on Malcolm, their eyes sparkling in interest and Malcolm suddenly felt like he was on an observation table about to be poked and prodded from every angle.

“So Malcolm was it?” The creepy mage had his arms behind his back as he strolled lazily up to Malcolm. He easily towered over both elves, staring down his pointed nose at each of them.

“You can call me Hawke,” Malcolm decided suddenly, feeling that his first name in that man’s mouth was just too familiar.

“Sure Hawke,” the green-eyed elf offered his hand, his black hair slicked back neatly. He also looked far too skinny for his clothes, his hand thin and bony. “I’m Orsino. Nice to see another elf made it into this program.”

“Sure,” Malcolm took the hand not wanting to start off on the wrong foot though he wasn’t sure that they’d get along just because they were elves.

The other willowy man offered his thin hand. “I’m Quentin. And you may call me that.”

Malcolm took the man’s hand too and his nerves locked on edge. Was Enchanter Jakoby certain about this man’s aura? Malcolm felt a coldness in him that seemed unnatural, and Malcolm took back his hand quickly resisting a shiver. He wasn’t sure why but he didn’t like that man but it felt more like instinct than prejudice. He didn’t like the way he smiled, how he moved, how his eyes studied him like a lab rat.

“So Cleansing someone else’s soul is simple. We guide them through a meditation as we channel their auras into the Fade so their darker actions and thoughts do not get attacked by demons like so,” Quentin then waved his hand pouring Fade magic into Malcolm as he felt his magic coat him, foul with dark energy.

Malcolm automatically cast a dispel to interrupt the examination. His mind felt a little tingly, like something had tried to pry it open. Did the bastard just try to read him? “Watch it, Q-ball.”

The man reddened, apparently self-conscious about his thinning hairline. “Just demonstrating,” Quentin squinted his eyes. “You hide it well but I did sense some dark anger in that aura. Dangerous for healers. A friendly warning from your upperclassman.”

His mind still tingled from the man’s magic making Malcolm’s hands glow in his own spell. “Is it my turn?”

Orsino stepped between them hastily. “Perhaps we should focus on examining our patients.” He looked apologetically to Malcolm. “Forgive Quentin. He can be overeager.”

“Well tell him to watch it. I can, too,” Malcolm huffed, shaking away the spell from his fingers.

Orsino folded his hands, taking over instruction as he tried to diffuse the situation. “The meditation is usually taken from the Canticle of Trials. You are familiar?” The question was more of a statement and Malcolm found himself stuttering. Was now a good time to say he always slept through Mass?

“Uh, sure I’m familiar,” Malcolm lied.

Orsino smiled. “Good then we won’t have to go over that.”

“Maybe, we should go over it a little,” Malcolm quickly backpedaled.

But then Meredith and Matthew marched into the room standing straighter than usual. Malcolm noticed that Meredith was glaring at him in particular and he couldn’t help but poke at her with a mock salute.

Meredith tried to keep the scowl from her face but her lips still twisted in a snarl. “Announcing the arrival of the esteemed Houses Amell and De Lancet,” Meredith’s voice sounded bitter with the false energy she forced into the greeting.

Malcolm bowed his head with the rest of the mages as the nobles paraded in, two by two, bringing with them the aroma of expensive perfumes and fresh coffee that they still clutched in their hands. Malcolm recognized Leandra’s parents striding in first, in coordinated red outfits. They took the prominent place in front. Guillaume’s parents, a greying red-headed couple in royal purple took the next highest place on the Amells’ right hand, and Leandra and Guillaume came next, completely uncoordinated and settling onto her parent’s left hand side still sipping their cups.

Malcolm couldn’t help but drag his eyes up Leandra’s legs admiring the newly revealed curves that her other dress hid. Leandra stopped mid-sip, reddening as the coffee dribbling down her chin a bit as she noticed Malcolm in the room staring.

Malcolm winked, holding back a laugh as she wiped her chin with her hand. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Her mother scowled, stepping out of place as she took a red handkerchief and wiped it away properly, making apologetic eyes to the De Lancets. “Leandra, really, I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

Guillaume chuckled. “It’s rather adorable actually.”

Malcolm tried to keep the sneer off his face but his whole jaw clenched as he tried to remember his place. He lowered his head again, remembering he was just supposed to be furniture.

Her mother sighed as if she was tired. “I’m glad you think so, dear.” Her mother then took her place measuring each mage against the other. “Is this the whole selection, templar?”

Meredith bristled. “Spirit healing is a very rare art, Lady Amell.”

“Still, there is the instructor, no?” Lady Amell sniffed, smoothing out an already perfect strand of greying hair. “Bring him before me.”

Enchanter Jakoby waited for Matthew to bring him from his place in the wall, and he bowed deeply before Lady Amell saying nothing as she inspected him, too.

“Ah,” she said in a disappointed tone. “Also an elf.”

Leandra’s eyes widened, as she reddened in embarrassment, looking apologetically at the Enchanter but the remark didn’t even seem to phase him.

“Permission to speak, Lady Amell?” Enchanter Jakoby asked evenly.

“Granted,” Lady Amell nodded in a bored tone as she sipped her coffee.

“While I would be happy to perform your Cleansing, my students are more than capable to attend to you.”

“Very well,” she snapped her fingers at Quentin. “You’ll do.”

Quentin bowed deeply. “I am honored to attend you.”

Lady De Lancet seemed to eagerly be inspecting Orsino against Malcolm, her gaze a leering and predatory. “Well I think elves are rather pretty.”

Malcolm gritted his teeth as she stepped up to Malcolm and Orsino, her heels echoing against the stone. She looked them up and down her eyes lingering on their backsides in full view of her husband. Malcolm bit his tongue as he hoped she thought Orsino was prettier.

But she stepped in front of Malcolm. “You…” she lifted his chin with her manicured nail. “You performed beautifully last night.”

“Thank you?” Was Malcolm supposed to say something else? He didn’t trust anything flattering to come out of his mouth so he just avoided her eyes as she studied his face.

She leaned down to meet his eye, patting his cheek fondly with her glove. “I think I’d like you to attend to me, mon petit.”

Malcolm felt like a worm on the end of a hook about to be swallowed. He audibly gulped. “Uuuh…you don’t want me, I barely started class this morning. Don’t even know the Chant, proper.” Orsino’s bright green eyes widened in alarm as Malcolm grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. “Orsino, here, is just as pretty and has been at this a lot longer.”

Lady de Lancet tittered in amusement. “I don’t mind breaking you in.”

Orsino kept his professional smile but his eyes were glaring at Malcolm while Malcolm scanned the room looking for anyone to help.

Leandra was already fuming from Lady de Lancet’s brazen forwardness, which wasn’t out of character for her, but the lady was practically fondling Malcolm in full view of her husband who was just boredly sipping his frappe’ as he played a candy puzzle game on his phone. She stepped out of place and curtsied politely announcing herself with a, “Pardon me, Lady de Lancet, but may I have a moment of your time?”

Her parents glared at her, and Guillaume subtly waved at Leandra to come back but Leandra stayed, though she had no idea what exactly to say.

The lady tutted and turned back to her. “Yes, dear?” she said, the patience in her voice wearing thin.

Leandra glanced at Malcolm who looked at her expectantly and so she said, “If the mage is so new to this, perhaps I should be the one to be his first test. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

She looked apologetically at Malcolm for throwing him under the bus but he looked relieved.

The lady didn’t seem to take kindly to this but before she could speak Enchanter Jakoby stepped forward, his head bowed. “Pardon, but her ladyship has a point. Malcolm is talented but…” the Enchanter trailed off looking to the Heavens as he tried to find a suitable word before he landed on, “untested. I will be coaching him every step of the way, but Orsino is very capable in his own right, and can anticipate your needs much better.”

Lady de Lancet clucked her tongue. “Oh, very well.” She looked rather annoyed but seemed reluctant to wager her health no matter how pretty that face looked. She snapped at Orsino. “You, come with me.”

Lady Amell took her husband’s arm as she led him to one of the cots. “I guess we’re starting then.”

Chantry sisters came bringing bowls of water and towels and set them at the foot at each of the beds that were stone and scoured for a bath of flame. As Leandra and Guillaume approached arm in arm, Enchanter Jakoby and Malcolm bowed and stayed that way until they got comfortable on the cot. Then Enchanter Jakoby led Malcolm in a kneel.

On one side of the room the Amell matriarch was flagging down a Chantry sister to say, “I don’t want a mage to touch me.”

Quentin remained silent as the Chantry sister nodded and took his place kneeling on the floor. Malcolm didn’t envy him, but at the same time every comment from Leandra’s parents dropped his stomach. He wasn’t even a consideration.

However Lady de Lancet was a bullet he was happy to dodge. He could see Orsino squirming as she eagerly kicked off her heels. “Now make sure to get in between the toes, dearie.”

Malcolm shuddered. He wouldn’t blame Orsino if he hated him for this.

The first part of the ritual meant bathing the noble's feet. Why the nobles couldn’t be bothered to bathe their own feet he wasn’t sure why. In Enchanter Jakoby’s lesson he spoke about how the ritual that went back to Andraste’s last day, when her disciple and friend Justinia begged Archon Hessarian to prepare her living body for the Maker. It was said in Andraste’s last hours Justinia was allowed into her cell, offering prayers to prepare her soul and cleansed her remaining sins by offering them to the Maker as the filth was washed from her feet. Malcolm could not find reverence in an old dead woman who couldn’t keep her promise of freedom to her elven allies, but he could find it in touching Leandra.

Malcolm was not a foot guy, not even close, but even he couldn’t deny how soft her skin was, each toe trimmed and polished, with cute little deco designs that seemed a shame to hide in her shoes. He could tell from her ankles that they were swollen from how long she had been standing in heels, and as he gently pinched at the tendon at her ankle releasing tension.

“Oh!” Leandra made a surprised sound that she bit down on her lip, her eyes glancing to Guillaume who seemed to also perk at the sound.

Malcolm felt a devilish impulse pull at his gut at the flush that colored her face from his slightest touch and he couldn’t help but dig his thumbs into the flat of her arch, his heart tugging at the sweet sigh he pulled from her. He sent little soothing healing pulses through his fingers as he renewed his determination, trying to see what more sounds he could force her to make.

Leandra was melting under his touch, holding back the moans in her throat, but still he could hear the tiniest whimpers escape setting Malcolm’s imagination alight. He suddenly wished no one else was there so he could pull her skirt up and bury himself between her legs so he could hear her cry for him. He knew he was winning the battle, her composure seemed to be coming undone, but before he could claim victory another voice reminded him what he was supposed to be doing.

“Messere Hawke, I believe her feet are clean enough,” the Enchanter cleared his throat.

Leandra took back her foot forcefully almost falling over, her eyes flinging to Guillaume who was also going slightly red at the sounds and faces Leandra was making.

“Just being thorough,” Malcolm hid a haughty smirk, wondering if Guillaume ever managed to make Leandra sound like that but he regretted that line of thought immediately.

“Perhaps I should give you a massage, sometime,” Guillaume offered with a flirtatious tone that made Malcolm clench his fists to keep from clocking him in the jaw.

Leandra patted her hot cheeks. “Perhaps,” she said evasively, but Malcolm didn’t like the thought of the man trying to put his hands all over Leandra and he couldn’t suppress the ugly scowl that took over his face.

Enchanter Jakoby grabbed a staff that was handed to him by a Chantry sister. “Now that the physical impurities have been taken care of, we will now purify your souls. My lord. My lady, please concentrate on offering your sins to the Maker as we sing the Chant.”

Malcolm took the paltry staff from the Chantry sister, trying to ignore his seething jealousy as the staff started channeling with magic Malcolm and Enchanter Jakoby poured from the Fade. Malcolm could hear all the spirits chattering, scouring into their memories so that he saw flashes of Leandra’s younger days. He tried not to glimpse too closely, but he could see the imprint of her loneliness hidden behind a careful smile that she used for everyone. Her soul had been flattened, like a flower that had been stomped on but still stubbornly peeking up the sunshine trying to take in little bits of light.

He heard Enchanter Jakoby’s voice take in a chanting intonation, Orsino and Quentin’s voice harmonizing with him.

“I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade

For there is no darkness, and no death, in the Maker’s light

And nothing he has wrought has been lost.”

Then each of the nobles' auras burned brilliantly as they each bared the darkness of their souls to the Fade. Leandra looked magnificent, too beautiful to be real, amber dancing against her skin as her dark hair ruffled lightly in the burning light. Malcolm almost reached out to touch the magic, to see what her burn would feel like on his skin before he remembered that others still watched them. Still, he couldn’t miss how her eyes watched his every move.

“For she was reborn to us in flame

And so flame we consume to be reborn

May, He Who Burns The Brightest

Purify the sins we hide in our hearts

So that we may know true peace.”

Then the flame snuffed out. All of the nobles looked bright and cheerful, like they each had an invigorated spirit-induced power nap, except for Lord de Lancet who looked pale and uneasy. Unlike the other nobles, the Cleansing seemed to have worn him out and his skin was showing a sheen of sweat.

“My, that was bracing,” the Lord patted his face with a purple handkerchief.

His wife tucked to his side with a concerned look on her face. “Darling, did the Cleansing not rejuvenate you.”

“Oh, I’m rejuvenated, absolutely,” but the man sounded absolutely winded. “Just the old war injury flaring, that’s all.”

Malcolm felt there was something odd about that. Rightfully a Cleansing should ease old pains, and though not every wound could be Cleansed, it shouldn’t be having that effect.

Enchanter Jakoby bowed his head and approached the de Lancets. “If you’d like I could take a look.”

Lord de Lancet nodded tightly and said, “it couldn’t hurt.”

The Enchanter scanned the man’s aura, focusing on his back where the pain seemed to radiate and Malcolm thought he saw it in the flicker of the Enchanter’s magic, but the Enchanter stopped his spell and said, “I’m sorry, my Lord. I thought there might be something else causing it but I see nothing out of the ordinary.”

Lord de Lancet rubbed his back nodding as if he expected that and said. “Yes, I’ve spent a fortune on chiropractors and masseuse’s and numbing injections but the pain just comes back worse than ever.”

Another clue for Malcolm and he stepped forward, forgetting all protocol. “Do you get nightmares…of the exact moment you got your wound?”

The man’s eyes widened in alarm, but he said, “The psychiatrist told me that was normal.”

“And are you forgetful lately? Having trouble remembering things that used to be easy?” Malcolm prodded more.

The man’s face reddened to almost the color of his mustache and he straightened his jacket. “How impertinent. You are not privileged to my medical history.”

But Lady de Lancet placed a slightly wrinkled hand on her husband’s puffed shoulder. “You have been needing an awful lot of reminders, lately, Reynaud.”

“I’ve just been stressed, Amelia.”

But Enchanter Jakoby noticed there was a look on Malcolm’s face and he put his finger on his lightly stubbled chin. “Do you have a prognosis?”

Malcolm looked at the Enchanter rather than the nobles for permission, breaking another rule. “May I have a look?”

The Enchanter motioned with his head to the noble who didn’t look pleased with Malcolm’s offer. “What makes you think you could make a difference?”

Malcolm shrugged. “I mean, I might not, but it could prove educational.” If the Lord didn’t want his help, he wouldn’t force it.

But Lord de Lancet seemed to be in so much pain he was willing to try anything. He nodded, muttering, “Very well.”

Malcolm poured magic back into him, revealing the tapestry of his energy in an array of light. He could see the war wound that festered into the spine damaging nerves all along his hip, but what he couldn’t figure out was how the others missed the knot of corded energy that seemed to snake in the heart of the wound, gnarling it up. The pain seemed to be feeding, growing more agitated with the feel of his magic. Was Malcolm the only one that could see it?

He poked at the knot with his finger. “Is it tender here?”

No sooner did Malcolm brush it did the noble cry out in pain, and Malcolm couldn’t deny he did relish the sound a little.

“Andraste’s flaming knickerweasels what are you doing back there!”

“Yep, we got ourselves a pain demon,” Malcolm cracked his neck nonchalantly stretching. “This one’s really burrowed into you. No wonder the Cleansing couldn’t take effect.”

“What!?” Lord de Lancet cried out his face paling.

Lady de Lancet smacked him on the arm which made him whimper more. “I told you that’s why you shouldn’t skip Cleansings, but do you listen to me?”

Enchanter Jakoby’s smile reached all the way to his eyes. “Malcolm, how did you spot it? It was hiding very well.”

Malcolm looked puzzled as if it should have been obvious. “Don’t you see how the energy in his aura moves differently around the pain spike?” Malcolm pointed to the knot in the magic as both Orsino and Quentin huddled in for a closer look. He motioned to the red ugly festering energy that stayed twisted up in the lord’s back. “You can see here is where the natural pain is,” Malcolm waved his hand down his thigh as he mimicked the energy’s movement, “but here the energy moves differently on it’s own wavelength. It’s not actually part of him.”

“Ooooooh,” the men said in unison as if everything was now obvious to them, too.

“Yes, yes very fascinating. Now will you get it out of me before it kills me!”

“Have no fear, My Lord. Pain demons are rarely lethal. Just painful,” Malcolm had forgotten all the training the Enchanter coached into him and without a thought put his hand over the knot, and twisted his fingers into the energy. The colors grew red and chaotic, the bright energy growing from the wound.

“Now just breathe,” Malcolm commanded, as he grasped around the essence of the demon, feeling the wrongness festering. Lord de Lancet cried out as Malcolm pulled. The creature was starting to become visible under Malcolm’s palm, a sickening black bloody vein-like leech with gnashing teeth screeching in a volume so high-pitched it deafened everyone’s hearing. Then it shriveled and burned away into Malcolm’s brilliant flaming magic until it was nothing but ash.

“Now how does that feel?” Malcolm pulled his hand away.

The man’s eyes widened as he patted his back which was not locking up in stiffness anymore. “Andraste’s Mercy. I feel twenty years younger,” He looked to Malcolm in disbelief.

“You look it, Reynaud,” his wife placed a fond hand on his cheek.

“Just doing my job,” Malcolm bowed his head with a pleased smirk on his lips. Leandra was beaming at him and he couldn’t help but notice even her parents weren’t looking with the same disgust only moments before.

That smirk quickly dropped when Lady de Lancet started straightening her husband’s tie, “That settles it. We have to have him as a House Mage.”

Shit.

Lord de Lancet looked at Malcolm with renewed interest. “I think you’re absolutely, right, mon amie.”

Enchanter Jakoby looked pleased, but a little hesitant to agree forthwith. “Malcolm is not a full Enchanter, yet, more an Enchanter in training.”

“Well then we’ll pluck him up as soon as he’s ripened,” Lady de Lancet twisted her fingers into a promise.

Malcolm froze, the urge to self-sabotage with a rude comment so strong he bit his tongue to keep himself silent. If he had realized that helping that lord would have led to this he would have let the Orlesian suffer.

But Leandra also seemed to find this unacceptable and stepped forward. “Pardon,” Leandra said in a voice too forceful to be polite, and before she realized she was doing it she curtsied in front of Lady de Lancet and said, “but I find that with the Haunting I feel absolutely terrified,” she added a believable wobble to her lip, “I do fear that, I, too, might be under a curse and am in desperate need of protection from a House Mage.” She met Malcolm’s eyes as she added, “and only the best will do.”

“Absolutely not!” Meredith’s outraged voice called out cutting through the discussion that was happening. She looked completely frazzled, as if she couldn’t fathom what was happening in front of her eyes. “You might not know this but Malcolm Hawke is a well-known trouble-maker in the Circle. He is not fit to serve the noble houses and will dishonor you all.”

Leandra audibly huffed. “Was it not Malcolm who saved everyone last night?”

“And he did spot the demon even the instructor missed,” Lord de Lancet also stretched his back, admiring the new looseness in his body.

Meredith scowled, seething with so much hatred for Malcolm he was sure she’d pop a gasket. “Believe me that talent makes him more dangerous.”

He glared back defiantly. That it did. If only she knew.

“Pardon,” Enchanter Jakoby raised his finger to silence the argument that was about to spring up from everyone. “But I’m afraid until he has proper training he won’t be doing anything than catching up on his graduation requirements.”

There was a finality in his words that told Malcolm no matter his future, he would be in for a lot of work, and for the first time in his life he found himself praying to the Maker to be kind.

#da fic #dragon age fic #malcolm/leandra #hawke #da2 #my writing #homophobia tw #elf fetishization tw #non-con language tw #lady de lancet is a demon but malcolm is ok

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pretend-writer · 4 years

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Down Below (Chapter 65)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 1.6k words

Warning: swearing, mention of murder and sex

Down Below Masterlist

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With everything that was going on with Octavia and Wonkru, it seemed that the least of my problems was what was happening at Shallow Valley. After catching up with what had happened since we lost contact with them, apparently Diyoza was getting kicked out of her group by her own people & McCreary was their leader now.

He was much worse than Diyoza; In the beginning she was willing to even offer us half of the Valley. Only if Octavia surrendered of course, which at that time I thought that was a sign of weakness. Now I felt dumb, wishing we took that choice when we could've.

Now it was confirmed that Clarke was helping McCreary defeat us after her and Madi left the bunker. It was selfish of me to even hate Clarke for siding with the psychopath considering the things I've done down at the bunker, but this was an absolute shit situation.

The worst of all was that I overheard people saying that Marcus was by their side as well. The hate I had for him from when we were down at the bunker grew stronger, wondering how he can just sit there and help McCreary kill us. Or even kill me, for that matter. I knew I was awful but surely he doesn't want me dead, does he?

Whatever McCreary & his new crew were planning to do to us, we heard everything, thanks to Diyoza and Echo. We knew what we had to do to try to take over the last liable land on Earth. We had to make this right because our life depended on it.

The plan to blindside McCreary was genius; not going to lie, having Echo on our side nowadays was painful to process but she sure was good at what she does.

'Make sure you all know your parts in the plan. Any questions?' Bellamy rested his hands on his hips as he looked around the tent.

'Tell Echo good work with this.' Octavia added.

Bellamy rolled his eyes at his sister, 'In two hours you can tell her yourself.'

She kept a straight face as him and the other warriors walked out of the tent but I could tell she was hurting. Spending six years with her by my side, I've learned so much about her.

Octavia and I became close down in the bunker, especially because we had no one to trust but each other. Which was why it hurt so much when she told me she never asked for help from Abby.

I did feel bad for Octavia about the way Bellamy was treating her; It wasn't fair for him to give her the cold shoulder after what happened between me and him couple hours ago.

'Y/N.' Octavia mumbled, 'The reason why I knew to burn everything was because I overheard you and Monty talking about the hydrofarm. You asked me why I did it but you'll see when we get the Valley.'

'We've sacrificed a lot to save our people. I'm not proud of the day I killed innocent people but I did it so that I can save you from Abby. What do we gain from burning down the one thing we needed to live?'

Octavia stood, 'You'll know once we get there. I promise you.'

I looked down, disappointed in myself because I knew that all of this was my fault. This whole massacre started when I started killing people at the bunker. Blodreina and Skafaiya wouldn't exist without my mistake in the cafeteria that day.

'I'm sorry about what I said, Y/N. I'm glad I had you with me at the bunker.' Octavia sighed. 'Okay?'

Without making eye contact with her, I slowly nodded and left the tent. It was tough to process, I didn't know what to say or how to respond. The truth of the matter was, I became broken from that turn of event and I'll live with that regret for the rest of my life.

Needing to get ready before the battle, I approached my tent to get all my gear. After feeling a light tap on my shoulder, I turned around.

'Hey, how're you holding up?' Bellamy smiled lightly which made my heart full. It's been a long time since I've seen his cute, freckles face. Most importantly, he was smiling at me.

What happened between us a few hours back suddenly made me nervous; It's been a long time since I've been intimate with someone, I felt so shy in front of Bellamy.

Especially after the huge fight we had over Wonkru, I didn't know how he felt about everything now. 'I'm doing alright. You?'

'Good. I really hope this battle against McCreary's men goes well.'

'Me too.' I mumbled as I thought about whether I should say what I felt. Knowing that it would distract me during the fight, I decided to ask. 'Uhm, I know this is sudden but... what are we doing?'

'We have three groups of-'

'No, I meant about us.' I gulped, scared of his reaction and answer. It was hard having "casual sex" with someone you deeply cared about and loved. If it was nothing, I had to know for my own sake.

Bellamy paused, unsure of what he should say. The facial expression on his face made my heart drop, knowing that whatever he was thinking wasn't good news for me.

'I-I don't know. I want us to go back to how it used to be but it's hard.'

Fiddling with my shirt, I sighed. 'Yeah, I get it. I just didn't want my hopes up so I wanted to know exactly what was on your mind.'

'We should just take it slow... see where it goes. If that's alright with you?' Bellamy suggested.

'Sounds fair.' Inside, I was dying of happiness since I knew that this was too good to be true. It was as if I was given a second chance that I didn't deserve. This time, it was going to be different.

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

As the group split up, Octavia, Bellamy, me and a few other warriors marched into the battleground. With nothing but sand and a huge wall of dirt around us, we kept walking to position ourselves.

Bellamy looked through his scope in his gun, searching for the enemies on the top of the cliff. 'Just like Echo said...'

The sound of bullets rang from the other side of the cliff, realizing that it was Echo, John, Emori and Raven fighting off McCreary's men.

'Echo was right.' Bellamy mumbled, continuing to look around for more men that was possibly hiding our nearby. 'Let's do this.'

Octavia signaled Wonkru to charge, which immediately had all the warriors march through the rest of the warfield. Following the Wonkru warriors, I marched right behind them as I gripped my submachine gun tightly.

She came right next to me as if she rushed and tried to catch up. 'Y/N?'

'What is it?' I asked politely yet uninvitingly. The whole argument with Octavia was going to be hard to get over considering she was the closest thing I had to a family down at the bunker.

'Are you still mad at me?' That was a direct question I would've never expected from Blodreina. Perhaps she was scrubbing of her dark days just as I was.

Not knowing how to put my feelings into words, I kept it simple. 'I'm just disappointed.'

'Well, I-' Immediately, we were interrupted by gun shots from the opposite side. It felt like thousands of McCreary's men all fired their weapons at once, trying to wipe out every one of the people that was left of us.

Quickly aiming my gun to where the fires were coming from, I started shooting. It was unclear of who was exactly firing as all of their men were hiding but I could tell I got a few hits as I heard groaning everytime I shot at them.

Wonkru wasn't enough to fight these men because our people were getting killed left and right. Feeling the rage in me, I started to fire my gun in the air, hoping to get any McCreary men I can injure or kill. Soon enough, I felt a sharp pain in my thigh which caused me to fall to the ground.

'Reyes, take cover!' Bellamy immediately rushes towards me and grabbed onto me, basically dragging me to the safest place he could find.

We took cover, hiding behind a boulder and watching Wonkru getting slain one after the other. Far up ahead, I spotted Octavia with a gun, firing at our opponents.

'Blake, we have to help Octavia.' She was out in the open, they could target her at any moment and possibly kill her.

'Even after what she'd done?'

Flailing my nose from frustration, I shook my head. I was as guilty as Octavia at the bunker; why was he able to try to forgive me but not his own sister?

Without thinking about the pain in my thigh, I quickly got up and ran towards Octavia. Bellamy yelled out my name but with all the noises from gunshots and screaming from pained warriors, I was unable to hear him. Even if I heard him, it wouldn't have made a difference; I was going to save my friend.

Finally catching up to Octavia, I pulled on her shoulder. 'Come on, we need to hide until this clears out.'

'I'm saving us out of here, I need to lead Wonkru to Shallow Valley.'

'Y/N!' As I heard Bellamy's voice, I also heard an unfamiliar noise coming from McCreary's men. It was a huge gun-like war machine, whatever that was it did not sound good. 'Y/N, lets go.'

'You can go, I'm not leaving without Octavia.' I shouted back.

Bellamy grunted, instantly grabbing onto my arm and ran the opposite direction from McCreary's men. Turning around, I saw Octavia chasing us from behind.

The next thing we knew, a electronic pressure of some sort blasted from the drill-like weapon which caused the people in the area to fly off the ground. Then the rest of the warzone was in silence.

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

tag list; @jodiereedus22, @coffeebooksandfandom, @bellamyblakemorley, @wisestydia-15, @dbtvluv , @hurricane–amelia , @lexalexy , @olkathefoxi, @lena-davina, @kellbell44, @thehakunamatara, @akelly4477, @morgannope, @littlegirl-fox, @captainam-erika-trash, @greygarbage, @nathaliabakes, @eternallyvenus, @rauwz, @broco8, @eridanuswave, @minamisulemisa, @lilacs-lavender

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake series #the 100 fic #bellamy blake fic #raven reyes x sister!reader #the 100 series #down below series

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banashee · 3 years

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Part 5 of my @badthingshappenbingo round 2

With a bit of help

Steve doesn’t run, but he very much wants to. His steps are wide and just quick enough so he can move as fast as humanly possible without making himself any more noticable. Walking quick won’t make him stand out in a busy street, but running would probably earn him some looks. It’s the last thing he wants right now.

There is so much noise around here - chaotic traffic with honking cars and loud motors, people chatting, yelling, laughing. Somewhere, a toddler is crying. Phones are ringing left and right and people are shouting back into it.

The noise on it’s own would be bad enough, but there are so many neon lights, and so many different smells - Steve wants to rip his own head off and bury it in cotton, so he doesn’t have to see or hear any more of it. It’s too much.

Sometime, in the 70 years he was asleep in the ice, the world got really fucking loud. It’s close to unbearable, but how do you even begin to explain that?

Luckily, it doesn’t take long for him to reach the SHIELD facility near Times Square. The street itself is one of his own personal nightmares. Steve isn’t sure if the reason for that is his less than pleasant awakening in the 21st century and the memories with this particular place, or if it is due to the fact that it is even brighter with flashing lights and video commercials here.

In any case, he is happy when he enters the sleek glass building. It’s busy, too, but not nearly as bad as outside.

He smiles politely without really making eye contact at the people he crosses on the way back to his quarters. Once the door falls shut behind him, it’s like he deflates entirely. His hands are shaking, Steve notices, and he drops his bag onto the floor, next to his brand new, unused combat boots that they gave him. He didn’t have a mission yet - he’s itching for it, but at the same time isn’t sure what will be expected of him.

With heavy limbs, feet dragging over the floor, Steve makes his way to the bed in the corner and collapses onto it.

His ears are still ringing, his heart is still racing, and all he wants is just a moment of peace and quiet. Even the ticking of the clock sounds deafening to him, and he knows exactly what is happening in the rooms nearby.

SHIELD barracks have paper thin walls, and his enchanted senses don’t help. In the room next to him, somebody is playing a video game. The gunshots and explosions are fake and Steve knows it, but he can’t help but flinch at the noise every time. It’s too much.

Another room over, someone is having a heated but one sided argument - over the telephone, probably, if he had to guess.

Across from him, it sounds like there are two people and - oh. Oh hell no. He really doesn’t want to listen to that, it would be incredibly rude.

In an act of desperation, Steve crawls out of bed again and makes himself a pair of makeshift ear plugs out of toilet paper, then he buries his head under the pillow.

He is shaking violently by now, wishing the world would be just a little bit calmer. It’s still so new, and he feels incredibly stupid, but he is absolutely overwhelmed with everything.

There is a name for it, he learns later. Sensory Overload.

That’s what he gets from typing “Why am I overwhelmed from noise, people and lights?” into the Google Thingy, and it makes a lot of sense. Unlucky for him, the only suggestion he can really find is to remove himself from the stressful environment, which is not always possible. Besides, he highly doubts that the articles he has been reading have taken a guy from the 40s who woke up in 2012 just a few weeks ago into account. His case is, admittedly, quite unique.

“Quite Unique”, he knows, also means that getting help for The Thing is hard.

Steve makes do with whatever he can, but it’s draining. Oftentimes, he’ll find himself collapsing into bed after a day around people, unable to stop shaking. The thing they gave him for alerts keeps beeping sometimes, even after hours, and he barely resists the urge to “accidentally” step on it one of these days.

Then, aliens attack New York, and his life changes once again. He’s got a team now, even though their start was admittedly messy and his own attitude not the best.

He has a chat with Stark, later, and they shake hands. Steve is not sure he’d call him or the others “friends” at this point, but “friendly” for sure, and he trusts every single one of them. This has to be enough for now.

Steve leaves the point of departure with a bag full of clothes on the back of his motorcycle and a mobile phone with a few numbers programmed into it. He isn’t sure if he’ll use it, but he figures it might be useful. Besides, they tell him that phone booths aren’t really a thing anymore, so better not rely on them.

Steve intends to go see the country for a bit, drive wherever he sees fit at the moment.

His plan to see the cities largely fails - much like New York, there is too much stress, too much noise. Steve can’t relax in any of those places, so he gives up and makes his way into much more rural areas.

Back in the day, when he was with the army, he traveled the world, but he never managed to enjoy the sights, for obvious reasons. Now, he’s got all the time in the world to go watch the stars in a field where no light pollutes the air. He walks on a beach for the first time in ages, letting the feeling of water and sand around his feet wash over him.

Luckily, he manages to grab a small, portable photo camera in a tourist shop. It’s a cheap, easy to use thing which he can deal with. There is a camera on his telephone, Stark said, but that doesn’t really seem necessary to him. He didn’t use the phone, but he keeps it charged - just in case.

Two weeks after he left New York, his phone rings. The damn thing makes him jump and almost crash his motorcycle into a tree.

Cursing, he pulls over to the side and fumbles it to answer. The sound of it ringing grinds his gears, and it takes every ounce of self control not to snap at whoever is at the other end.

“Hello?”

“Steve, hi. This is Natasha. Where are you right now?”

“Oh, hey. I’m in Georgia right now - why? Am I needed back?”

“We have a situation - sorry to interrupt your road trip. Can you please keep your phone on and wait at the nearest point accessible for the jet? We’ll pick you up on the way.”

“Yes, of course. You will be able to find me?”

“Already did.” it sounds like she’s smiling. “See you in about two hours, possibly sooner”

When the jet sets down on an empty space of land, the ramp extends and Steve drives up there. The door closes behind him, and he is greeted by his team, already suited up. Thankfully, they brought his gear and his shield.

The situation is messy and so is the fight they have to take part in, but all of them return to New York in one piece - small favors.

When the jet settles down on the roof of the tower, it does so with little grace. A string of very colorful curses emerges from the cockpit, where Barton is ranting about shitty robots shooting at them and wheels that spontaneously fall off in the middle of landing, but other than that, they’re fine.

Internally, Steve has to agree with him, but externally, he keeps on a brave face. He refuses to lose it over this, although he very much would like to join in on banging his head against hard surfaces. Unfortunately, it’s just a bad look on a leader, so he remains calm.

As soon as he steps out of the jet, the noises of the city drill into his brain, and it takes a lot of self control not to cringe at it. He’d gotten used to the peace and quiet of the countrysides, and even though he’d known it wouldn’t last forever, he already finds himself missing it.

Thankfully, the inside of the tower is a lot more bearable. The walls must be thick and at least somewhat soundproof. It makes it easier to relax, and although the debrief takes a lot out of them all, they’re glad to be back.

Before they shuffle off into different rooms to sleep off the last mission, Tony stops him on the way.

“Oh hey, before you walk off - let me know if you’ll need anything specific, the apartments are in planning.”

Steve blinks. “Apartments?”

“Yeah. Here, for everyone. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Uh, no?”

“Oh. Here you go, then. We’ll move everyone in here and I need to know if you have any specific preferences. Layout, accommodations, furniture whatever. You can tell JARVIS, too, if you’d rather.”

Before he can ask anything else or even say “thank you”, Tony has disappeared, leaving Steve standing there like he just got rolled over by a train. To be fair, this is the kinda feeling that most people have after talking to Tony when they’re not used to him, and Steve has been away for a while.

He mulls over this on his way to a guest room. JARVIS is kind enough to explain the plans in more detail, which helps a lot because “Hey so, you’ll move in here for free, let me know if you want any stuff” is not what he expected to hear once he got back.

Truth be told, it feels kind of weird and overwhelming, so he decides to shower, sleep and think about anything else later.

As it turns out, the walls are soundproof in here - Steve falls asleep and wakes up in total silence, and he sighs in relief. Maybe, moving here wouldn’t be such a bad idea, especially since the tower is a lot more private and convenient than SHIELD barracks.

When he makes his way to the kitchen for breakfast, there are voices and the clattering of plates, sizzling from the stove and gurgling off the coffee machine. His ears can pick up every single noise, but unlike the traffic on the streets or neighbours back at SHIELD, it’s not uncomfortable now that he is well rested and, most of all, got a break.

Maybe, living here isn’t a bad idea. It’s an opportunity to get closer to the team, especially since everyone else will be around as well. So, Steve enters the kitchen to share breakfast with the other Avengers.

He’ll figure out the rest.

*+~

Square 5/25: Sensory Overload

#banashee writes #Bad things happen bingo #marvel fanfiction

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animalsatwildlilac · 3 years

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Power Outage with Bearded Dragon

This beardie has a job. His name is Stripy, and he is a working lizard. His life is full of adventure at Wild Lilac preschool. But he does get weekends off, vacations, and even mental health days, just like me. I think he is lonely when we are not together.

On Thursday, when WL announced an early release because of the winter storm warning, I got the whole day off because I only teach in the afternoons. But I still needed to go in, briefly -- to tend to the animals before the roads got messy.

On the way there, I stopped for supplies at my local pet store, Tropical Hut. I bought 100 crickets and a package of frozen bloodworms.

When I parked in front of the school, rain was falling and the temperature was dropping. Masked parents were picking up their unmasked kids. I left 50 of the crickets in my car with plans to take them home for Stripy, my bearded dragon, and then I went to the animal room.

I fed and tucked our critters in –

Two cubes of bloodworms for the Axolotl;

Cucumber and carrots for the just-hatched baby snails;

Fresh pinecones and toilet paper rolls for the gerbils;

Hay for the new-found guinea pigs (see previous post);

Crickets in with the animals that eat crickets: the tarantula, the geckos, and the cane toad;

And food for the crickets themselves (some apple, some dog food);

The Madagascan Hissing cockroaches still had food;

The walking sticks are all out of bramble – I’m sorry, but they will be okay for a few days without food.

I headed home.

As I brought the deli container of crickets into my house (they had been in my car for about 45 minutes) I realized something was tragically wrong -- all 50 of them were on their backs, heels to heaven. My first though was carbon monoxide. How could they all have DIED in such a short time? Then I realized maybe they weren’t dead – they were cold! Or did they freeze to death? It just hadn’t been that long. Such drama! I set them on a table and watched them, and as they warmed, they started to move. First a leg twitched, then another, then one flipped over. I was thinking how cool is this! Definitely something to explore with the kids – the freezing and warming of crickets.

And then, as I was deep in contemplation watching the flipping crickets, it’s 3 in the afternoon and -- the power goes out! There was no accumulation of ice or snow. The storm had hardly started. PGE said the power would be back on at 5pm. But at 5, they said 6, and at 6, it was 8.

When the temperature in Stripy’s tank dropped to 65 degrees, I had lifted him out and put him on my chest, zipped up a fleece vest over him, and put a fuzzy blanket around my shoulders.

My husband ventured out into the cold night to find a restaurant with power. He arrived home with salted peppered cod and garlic broccoli and kung pao shrimp from Powell Seafood, and the news that there were now 100,000 people without power in the greater Portland area.

At 8:03 our lights came on! Stripy was glad to get into his warm tank and eat some crickets. The humans were glad to catch up on what we had missed electronically in the past five hours.

Stripy poops biweekly, and does so in a predictable way – pretty much every time I put him in the bathtub; warm water brings it on for him like coffee does for me.

His poop in interesting. Part of it is white and rubbery, part of it loose and greenish brown.

At 2 in the morning my partner woke me. The power is off again, he says. PGE says the cause is under investigation and there is no estimated time for the power to return. In my Ambien induced slumber, I mumbled, “Please … bring me Stripy…”.

Stripy settled on my chest and closed his eyes. He clung to my nightie like a bur on a wool sweater, both of us covered with the duvet. Our dogs are not happy about Stripy joining us in the bed, and they move as close to my head as they can.

My partner kept checking on Stripy, to make sure he was staying on me, not straying into the sheets. But he needn’t worried. Why would this lizard leave the best heat source in the house -- a woman going through a menopausal transition?

Flanked by dogs, a lizard, and my partner who at this point in the pandemic has not just a beard, but a full wizard’s beard, we sleep. But not well. Our thermostat now says 54 degrees. I am worried about the crickets -- they are no longer chirping. but I am not going to snuggle them.

It is windy. My neighbor's roof is covered with snow and smoke is coming out of her chimney. Branches come down from the weight of ice. A car explodes and burns when a power line falls on it. All over Portland, people are lighting candles and caressing their reptiles, trying to keep them warm.

Stripy has two tanks – one at school, and one at home. His at-school tank is what I think of as his studio apartment; it’s furnished with a doll’s bed covered with a patchwork quilt, a hammock, a tiny ceramic toilet, and a small, hard copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar. At home, he has a “desert” tank where I’ve built him tunnels and hillocks out of excavator sand.

In the summer, at the end of the day, he likes to join my family on the patio. We have cheese and crackers and glasses of chardonnay, and Stripy gets his own glass platter of mealworms. Yes, I know the mealworms are fatty and are supposed to be a treat, not a regular staple, which is why I’ve been trying to transition him to crickets. I want Stripy to chase crickets like how the beardie in the YouTube video chases blueberries, but he doesn’t.

I believe he doesn’t chase his food because he doesn’t have to.

He waits until a cricket crawls up on his hillock and then -- a quick snap nom nom nom -- he chomps on them. A drop of cricket juice spatters from his mouth.

But I know he still has his instincts, because I have watched him shoot across the patio to catch and eat a bee.

At school, the kids touch Stripy with one finger, and they know not to pet his head. Heads are personal spaces, and plus, that third eye! The first time I saw his third eye, I thought a child had drawn on him with marker.

When not roaming about the animal room, or sunning himself under a UV light, Stripy is carried in a woven sea grass basket filled with silks. He has castles built for him out of Magnatiles. The children pick fresh arugula for him from the garden and hand feed it to him. They sketch pictures of him that are pinned to the wall. The kids love him. They tell him this on a daily basis. They don’t imbue him with meaning, they just recognize him as sentient being.

The kids marvel at how his spikes look so sharp but are actually soft. They touch him and talk about his textures and colors, the orange rings encircling his eyes, his soft belly, his pointy tail. We watch his torso expand as he sighs, relaxing into his body.

What are those holes in the sides of his head?

What do you think they are?

Can he hear me? Why aren’t his ears on the outside like mine?

Will he lick me?

He might.

Why did he lick me!

He is tasting you. He’s finding out who you are.

This bearded dragon, does he know how to fly?

Not yet.

Well, his mommy needs to teach him!

I ask him questions in front of the kids … Stripy, do you want some dandelion greens? Oh, you do! Oh, Stripy, I can see you don’t want to be held right now. You want to move across the floor on your own!

I regularly give animacy to inanimate objects, too.

What is he saying now, Teacher Nikki?

What do you think he is saying?

Caring for animals helps us to build compassion. I want the kids to know that the animals are communicating with us, we just have to listen.

Sometimes, on my way home from work when I stop at Trader Joes, Stripy tells me that he doesn’t want to be left alone in the car, so I set him on my shoulder and he lies very still (but is supremely alert and watches everything) as I walk around the frozen foods and the wine aisles. Kids always notice him and want to connect. The crew usually notice him, too, and greet him with a wink. My sister, who likes animals but doesn’t have any, when I tell her about my experiences in Trader Joes with Stripy, says “Oh, Nik-Nac, you’ve become one of those people.”

And yes, I guess I have, it’s true. I have become that lady with the bearded dragon.

No, we are not supposed to have a lizard in a preschool -- because of the salmonella risk. However, I believe that risk is an inherent and natural consequence of childhood. Our preschoolers take turns on a broken seesaw that was homemade to begin with. They build with crates and cardboard boxes we scavenge from the furniture store on the corner. There is sometimes a sprinkling of nails in our sandbox. We have earthquakes here, and floods, and ice-storms. Our children breathe harmful air from wildfires. We have lockdown drills to prepare us for potential active shooters in our schools – a little salmonella isn’t going to shut things down for us!

In my more than 30 years of teaching with animals, I have probably exposed thousands of children to salmonella. It will be okay. For those of you who are still worried, let me tell you a little story.

I hosted a special COVID sleepover for some school-age kids recently (the kids were all from the same pod) and when it was discovered that one child had forgotten to bring a tooth brush, I said, “that’s okay, just borrow someone’s toothpaste and brush with your finger.” I mimed a demonstration and all the kids made faces of disgust. “I would never brush my teeth with my finger,” I heard. “I put my fingers in my butt too much!”

We do wash our hands as often as possible.

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years

Text

Three Days ~ 32

Catch up on AO3

~*~Sebastian~*~

The train was pretty crowded with people commuting into the city. I can't imagine spending three hours going back and forth to work every day. But right now, I thought an hour and a half with headphones sounded ideal. Processing didn't feel like the right word. I usually think of processing as something you do to deal with a negative or incorporate some insight you just had. Emma certainly wasn't a negative. But I guess process is the right word. A lot had happened in the last four days.

About fifteen minutes out of town my text alert went off. Emma sent me a picture of her in her classroom in front of a bunch of words. I doubt her pointing at baby, boy, and blue was accidental. I sent back the first thought that came to my mind, "Damn."

Next thing I knew I was at my station. I had not processed shit. I'd sat staring at her picture while my music played. Maybe that was processing?

I ducked into a shop to buy a bottle of water before hitting the gym. I was the last to arrive. I was going to get shit for this.

"Mr. Stan, glad you could join us."

Len looked at Don," Leave him alone. He slept in."

"I've been up since five-thirty, but thanks for the support." I dropped my bag close to the wall, "Got a train back from Beacon at seven."

Jackson crinkled up his face, "What's in Beacon?"

"Parents moved there. I was helping them unpack."

I must have smiled or something because Brad jumped on me, "I don't think that’s all you were doing."

I could feel my cheeks turning red. I joined them stretching out. "I did meet a woman"

There was a chorus of, "Oh yeah", from the four other men.

"Don't be like that," I admonished. "I haven't had a real date in forever."

George laughed, "We know. You'd given up."

I laughed too. I'd forgotten about that conversation. It had been George's twentieth anniversary and I'd commented I'd given up getting a date, forget about getting married. "I guess I was too hasty with giving up."

Len put his hands behind his head and thrust his hips, "If you're rusty and need some tips just let me know."

I covered my eyes with my hands, "Thanks, but I’m doing fine."

Hours later I walked into my apartment. Fuck, was I tired. Hadn't gotten much sleep the last couple of days. I smiled thinking about why. Checking out the picture on my phone again, I headed upstairs to shower. I wanted her face. I asked for a closer picture, put my phone on the charger, and hit the shower. Still wet, I fell face down on my bed and was out, not waking up until my manager called. We were going to have dinner tonight. I hung up and I saw I had a text. I closed my eyes and said, “Please."

The look on Emma's face in the picture was sweet with a touch of sexy. Her smile showed off her single dimple, but the slight quirk of her lip was like she had a secret. If I kept thinking about that I was going to get hard.

I was surprised when she responded to my text. It was a short conversation. I like how she'd brought up skipping past the when is it ok to call or text part. I suck at that shit. I think everyone does except assholes who like games. I don't have the time or inclination to figure out if I’ve waited long enough to contact someone. What happens is I'm waiting for the appropriate time, something happens, and I’m outside the window. Which, oddly enough, is exactly what happened with me trying to kiss Emma.

While I say I suck at this shit, I don't suck at all of it. Honestly, I'm a good date. I'm attentive and can be romantic. I like romance. I like how Emma and I started. The touching and talking were refreshing. It was like time stopped. There was nothing but she and I getting to know each other. I know that's not completely true. There were bumps and anxious moments, but that's part of it, part of life. I like how I felt as we maneuvered the bumps. I didn't feel alone. Feeling anxious feels alone. It feels like stuck in your head and you don't want to let the thoughts turn into words because it makes it real. If you don't say it out loud it’s not real. Good and bad with that. If it's not real, it's not real, but if you don't say it out loud no one can help. That’s a double-edged sword too. People think they're helping when they flood you with reasons you shouldn't feel how you do. If only anxiety disappeared with logic. Some people understand, some even know how to help. Then some people use it against you. I’ve known all three types. Even fell in love with the worst type.

The point of all that is to say Emma made it better. Without a pause she did the thing, said the thing, to make it better. By itself, not such a big deal, but when you combine it with everything else. She's smart, beautiful, fun, articulate, kind, sexy, and she makes me feel good. I feel like I've hit some kind of fucking jackpot.

There is an assumption that being famous is a sex buffet. Yes and no. Do you get offered anything you want and a few things you don't? Yes. I got talked into going with several of the Marvel guys to Vegas. I'd heard the stories. There were places one could have no strings sex and little to no risk of anyone talking. I'm not talking about brothels. I mean clubs frequented by locals who knew how to keep secrets. More than one of the guys had "usuals". There is money involved, but it's for discretion, not sex. Yeah, I know. I don't see the difference either. I went, but wound up out of my mind drunk with the faithfully married men. Wasn’t for me. Honestly, I got laid much more in college and the early years. Because once people knew who I was and the offers started I never knew if they wanted me, a story, a name crossed off their "to do" list, a photo op, or were a gold digger. Not that I had any money back then. When you’re shooting somewhere you're not running around fucking locals because you’re busy. And tired. I get up about two hours before call time, so I'm a human being before I get to set. What I'm saying is it's complicated and not easy. A buffet would be easy.

I'm more of a serial monogamist. I like relationships. I like being part of a couple. There are dry spells. There are dates with sex. And there are dry spells. Most recently there's been a friend with benefits. She picked today to call. After the texts with Emma, but before dinner with my manager. We haven't seen each other in, I don't remember exactly, three or four months. It's been a while. Dry spell. Thankfully, this arrangement was not complicated so when I told her I was seeing someone she was happy for me.

The dinner meeting with my manager, Emily, went well. I stayed focused despite the little part of my brain that stayed acutely aware of the time. Volleyball practice was over at nine. Theoretically. It’s a bar league and timing might be loose. She has work in the morning. Probably won't be too late. I should probably stop thinking. If she can't talk she won't answer. Just like all day today when we texted when we could. You know, like functional adults.

Sebastian ~ You home?

Emma ~ Yep

I hit call and waited to hear her voice. "No, no, no."

Click.

Not what I was expecting. I pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at it like it was a foreign object. FaceTime popped up. Oh, okay. I answered and her face filled my screen, "Hey."

Emma smiled, "I'd much rather see you than only hear you."

"This is better." Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was without makeup. She looked like the day we met. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you." She laid her head to the side and shrugged her shoulders, "Why'd you think I wanted FaceTime?"

I pulled my eyebrows down and pursed my lips, "So I could tell you I think you're beautiful?"

Emma shook her head with a grin, "Because I wanted to see your handsome face."

"Thank you." I inclined my head slightly. "How was practice?"

"Brutal." She laughed. "Sand absolutely everywhere. I miss gym floors and shoes. A lot of drills and some three on three."

"Keep going." I liked listening to her talk. She went into more detail while I listened and watched her facial expressions. She was animated with small movements that brought her words to life. I was especially aware of the quirk of her mouth. I was missing her hands and how they talked as much as her words.

"And how was your morning at the gym?"

I raised a hand, palm up, "Didn't you see my Instagram post?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." I had posted a picture of the group with me lying face down. "You looked tired."

"It was a heavy weight day." I entertained her with some of the day’s antics. The comradery made it less exhausting. We worked hard and we laughed often. "I took a nap before dinner with Emily."

"How'd that go?"

"Good." I nodded. "We've worked together for over twenty years now. I start filming in Rome end of July."

"That will be warm."

"Yeah, it will be. June will be the longest I've been home for a long time."

"Lucky for me."

"When's school out?" I was making plans. Pretty global and unstructured, but plan.

"We have through next week to finish up with work. Then it's fun and games. Celebrations of art and music to show off the projects we've worked on but haven’t sent home. Then there’s a day of outside athletic stuff. Relays, three-legged races, carrying eggs, tug of war. All sorts of things to celebrate sending our fifth graders away and the others flying up a grade. All three weeks away. School ends on Wednesday. Closing ceremony for staff Thursday. Then Friday I am going home to Alpharetta for a few days. then back to do some curriculum work."

"I thought it was summers off." I was a little disappointed. I, like many, assumed teachers were really off during the summer. This wasn’t working with my as yet unmade plans.

"Depends on what’s going on. The last winter we had so many kids out with flu and an ice storm closed school. We decided we wanted to have options like video lessons on YouTube or Google Classroom. Right before school started, we got our curriculum cleaned up. Figuring out what are the necessary things we need to make sure we teach. Then over the school year we've been recording lessons. After faculty meetings, we’ve spent time organizing them. This summer we just have to finalize and work with IT do develop the web site."

"Wow, sounds like a huge undertaking."

"It has been, but it will be so helpful if a student is out for them to be able to see the lesson that goes along with their makeup work."

"Are all the grades doing this?"

"Eventually. First and third did this year. We’ll help them to learn from our mistakes."

I got an idea, "Does that mean I can watch videos of you teaching?"

She laughed, "If I enroll you in my class. You'd want to watch that?"

"Maybe. I mean you like watching me do my job."

"Ah, Sebastian. Leveraging a movie to be able to see me teach.”

"I'm not going to promise I'll be in class every day. Never was. But I'd like to see what you do? Someday you'll go on set with me and see how boring most of it is." What did I just say? I’m not shooting anything for almost two months. How very optimistic of me.

"Well, there's an offer I can't refuse."

Good answer. "I've got a photo shoot in a couple of weeks. I think it’s the same week you're going home."

"Ooo, where are you going?" Her face lit up with excitement.

"Toronto. It's promo stuff for the film festival."

"I feel like I should know what you have showing there."

I wanted to reach out and wipe away the annoyed curve of her lips. There was no way she could know unless she was poking around the internet. I liked that she wasn't. "I'll catch you up. It’s a love triangle kind of thing. I'm the bad choice." I told her about filming, how much was improv, and the basic plot. She asked questions to clarify and I enjoyed explaining. I never felt like I was being interviewed. Emma wanted to learn about me.

With the conversation, I'd lost track of time. Again. When I glanced at the clock it was much later than I'd thought. I ran my fingers through my hair, "It's like our first date all over again. Talking for hours."

She smiled, "Its a theme for us. I hate to, but I need to go to bed."

"Believe it or not I’d planned on watching the time, so we could both get some sleep. I, at least, took to a nap." We shared a smile, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"OK. Good night, Sebastian."

"Night, Emma" She disappeared from my screen and I wasn't very happy. I wanted to keep talking, to keep seeing her expressions. Her green eyes weren't as vibrant on FaceTime, but my memory could fill in the details.

Wednesday was text free and my phone rang at three-thirty. "The children were horrible today."

The exasperated look on her face made me smile, "Could it be their teacher was extra tired today?"

She huffed out a breath, "It’s possible.” Her lips turned to a smile, "Wouldn't change a thing."

"What do horrible children do?"

"Tommy used his folders as frisbees. Annabelle and Brooklyn gave each other tattoos during recess with Sharpies. No one could sit still for lessons or story time. And finally, Marta threw up all over the table and we had to evacuate the room until the custodian got it cleaned up. Room smelled like vomit and Glade the rest of the day."

I had been cringing since the tattoos. "Sorry about the definitely bad day."

Emma nodded, "What did you do today?"

Not much. "Um, long run this morning. Lighter weights today. More core and flexibility. Picked up some Thai food on the way home. Took a shower. Then I started reading a book on female spy units. You called. Now, I’m mostly trying to figure out a way to climb through the internet so I can kiss you. We've still got some catching up to do.”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction

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jj-lynn21 · 4 years

Text

Moroccan Sands ch 4

Warnings/notes: A dash of real life here taken from my experiences, Hope its not to boring before a little smut in the next few chapters that are complete fantasy, AU: In case you need to know this is not exactly how these actors are irl as far as I’ve experienced.

Ch1, ch 2 ch3 ch5 ch6 ch7 ch8

alexisisdumb mr-yesbody meandmystrangehabits super-pink-a-palouza

You pick up your pink bag, your carryon over your shoulder and head towards the sign. As you follow your handler out the door to the van you look back. Several security guards and a large man dressed in black seem to be helping Bill get out of the chaotic situation.

When you get to the van the door is opened. There is someone else you know from set which makes you feel more comfortable. Laura says, “You know the drill (YN) in the back-back seat.”

You say, “No, problem. Good seeing you here.” You pull yourself up into the van as the driver puts your bags in the back. There are two other extras sitting in the back already but there is plenty of room for you.”

Laura turns, “We are glad the three of you made it. Some couldn’t get on the flight so had to cancel.”

The van door opens again. You can’t see who gets in, but you are pretty sure its Bill.

She says, “Sorry you had a hard time getting out here. How was your flight.”

Bill says, “No big deal. It was excellent, thanks you for asking.”

The radio walkie goes off, “Are packages being delivered.”

Driver says, “One more stop, and will be delivering within a half.”

Laura gets up beginning to move to the middle seat as the van starts moving, “Full house so I’ll move so you and our other passenger can sit there. We have three others in the back-back.”

You didn’t hear Bill respond. You kind of thought if even for a minute he thought you were there he would suggest you come sit with him or at least acknowledge you in some way. Everyone was quiet until the pickup at the hotel.

As soon as you hear the vernacular, “Hey, mate.” You are sure its Tom.

One of the other extras, whispers to you, “Is that Tom Holland?” You just shrug as you listen.

As if cementing who it is Bill says, “Morning Tom.”

Tom excitedly continues like he has had way too much caffeine, “I’ve been here almost a full day already. Its amazing. It is a great set they have created. “

Bill said, “Cool, you learn all your lines for today.”

Tom scoffs, “Of course mate. No problem with that. Were you able to read through our scenes on the plane?”

Bill admits, “No man, but I had a real good flight.”

You smirk. You want to say out loud, is that so Bill? But there are rules in these situations. You know its best for you to keep your mouth shut at this time, so you keep this job. When you started working as an extra one of the papers, they emailed you listed several rules. One of them was no approaching the actors to speak with them while on this production. You heard others got kicked off set for merely saying hello, but some said talking with the actor wasn’t a big deal as long as they initiated the conversation.

Tom Chuckles, “Better be careful.” He pauses, “Oh, really?”

The van gets to the drop off point. Tom and Bill get out first. Laura has you stay inside several minutes before you and the rest of the extras get out and are ushered into a near by tent not far from filming. You do catch a glimpse of Tom and Bill getting ushered off in an air opened jeep.

Of course, the tent has a table with coffee, bottles water and snacks. At 8am they bring donuts, bagels, cream cheese and jelly for breakfasts. That is one of the best things about filming this movie, they feed you constantly. After the crew comes back for breakfast and leaves, you and the other extras are taken to set.

You see Bill and Tom across the way with Tom and the director talking. Tom’s sitting in a chair his head down. Bill is standing there looking stressed with his arms crossed. You just have to walk a few feet each time action is called. You can’t exactly watch the scene since you are not supposed to be paying attention to the soldiers completely. After a reset you have to run through what seems to be the same scene as pyrotechnics are going off like bombs in the distance. After hours of this you are taken back to holding for a while.

Laura comes in, “I need (YN) and Eric to come with me.”

You are all smiles following her out. When you were initially hired you were told the director hand picks people even extras for each scene. That is why you need to send so many photos. Laura takes you to a costume tent area that have various fatigues. The costume person looks at you and goes back to grab you an outfit. She gets you a green tank top and camouflage patterned pants and points to a small makeshift dressing area.

You tell her, “Thank you.”

The cloth fit you perfectly. Eric gets a similar outfit. Then you are taken to set. Laura sets you at a table in a big barracks looking room. Some other military personnel looking actors come in to sit. The assistant director looks everyone over.

He points to you, “I want you down here. And you towards the back. I think this should work. Everyone just pretend to be talking about your day in the field. It was exhausting and unpleasant. You could have scene friends die.”

The person they put you with is another woman. She is an extra from the area but seems to understand what we will be doing perfectly. You look up as Bill and Tom walk in the room to do their scene. You know it might not make it in the film but because you are right behind where the actors are, you might actually be a blur you can make out behind them. You try to flash Bill a quick smile, but his eyes are cold when he glances at you. It gives you chills.

Then once the scene shoots the first time, you realize why he looked so cold. The characters are having an intense argument. You feel bad for both of them but worse for Tom who seems to be taking a lot of angst coming off Bill. When cut is yelled everyone in the room takes a breath.

Bill cracks his neck, “We’re cool Tom. You got this. Just come at me with everything you got man.”

Tom replies, “Yeah, cool, cool. This is fucking insane.”

He brushes a hand over your back as he walks by quickly to reset the scene. Its so quick you’re not sure if it was a real acknowledgement or an accident. He doesn’t do it the rest of the time the scene is being shot. It takes hours to get the right angles in multiple takes. You estimate 10 takes for each angle.

The actors leave. Then all the extras are taken back to holding where you will be waiting for the crew to eat before you. There is a huge buffet being set up as you get back to the tent.

Even though you saw Bill being cool to Tom between scene takes a few times, you also saw several takes back to back to back where the angst just escalated to a frightening level. You wanted to ask Bill and Tom if they were really ok after that. The whole thing made you feel emotion so you believe people will really love it in the theater.

#bill skarsgård x reader #tom holland #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skargård #bill skarsgard #fanfic #fan fiction #movie making #a peek behind the curtain #fantasy #creative writing #writing #story telling #fiction

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tonystarkstan · 5 years

Note

HI HOPE I LOVE YOU and I have a little thingy/question/headcanon that you can explore if you want: After the Snap, Peter hates sand/dirt/anything that slightly resembles ash so when his decathlon team takes a trip to the beach in the summer, Peter won't walk on the sand without his shoes on and will only sit on a towel

HI I LOVE YOU TOO!

man, I love it when people send me angsty prompts. here we go. I made it irondad because that’s the only thing I know how to write, woo.

“Can you believe Mr. Harrington is letting us do this?” Ned asks Peter excitedly as they get onto the fancy charter bus.

“Yes,” MJ says from behind them. “What was he supposed to say when Tony Stark told him, ‘Hey, I want to take the Decathlon team on a trip, because they deserve a break’ - no?”

“She’s got a point,” Tony says, smirking from where he’s already sitting in the front seat.

He looks different from the very put-together version of himself the world usually sees. He’s dressed casually in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, along with his trademark sunglasses, and Peter grins at him.

“Pepper says no to you all the time,” he points out as he and Ned take the pair of seats across from Tony. “Especially that time you told her you wanted to hire someone solely to make donuts for you.”

Tony gives him an incredulous look. “First of all, I told you that in confidence. Second of all, why do you call her by her first name but I’m still ‘Mr. Stark’?”

Peter grins mischievously. “Because she’s cooler.”

Tony shrugs. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

Beside him, Ned is watching their interaction with wide eyes. Peter sits back in his seat and looks on as the rest of the team shuffles onto the bus, immediately talking in hushed voices as they catch sight of Tony.

For his part, Tony just smiles warmly and greets them all individually, and Peter laughs under his breath when Flash comes aboard. All the warmth leaves Tony’s face as he eyes Flash coldly, and the teen stumbles nervously, shooting Peter a quick look before making a beeline for the back.

Peter glances at Ned to see if he caught the exchange, but he’s still frozen in awe. Peter rolls his eyes and elbows him.

“Really, man? We’ve been over this. That right there?” he points to Tony, who’s eyes are sparkling with mirth behind his glasses. “That’s just a normal human. I mean, yeah, he’s a genius and a billionaire, and he saved the whole world from a mad Titan, but Pepper has to remind him to eat. And he always loses the TV remote.”

“Even better. We stan a relatable icon,” Ned says, and MJ huffs from her seat behind them.

“You’re insufferable.”

“I try my best. Anyway, what do you guys want to do? I brought snacks, cards, and a couple different movies - all Star Wars, of course,” Ned tells him.

“You’re so predictable. I have a better idea,” she tells them, standing up to address the rest of the bus. “Yo! I made a Kahoot on movies through the decades. Winner gets a free pass to skip a meeting without facing my eternal anger and resentment.”

“She’s talking to you, Parker!” Cindy calls, and Peter laughs good-naturedly. He’s notorious for skipping out on practice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter grumbles, taking out his phone. “Hope you guys are ready to lose.”

In the back, Mr. Harrington looks like he wants to say something, but as everyone starts bickering and challenging each other, he decides to just sit back and let it happen.

The game lasts the full hour it takes to get to the beach. Ned beats Peter by one question, and Peter is one hundred percent sure he will never live it down.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “A hacker and a movie buff, huh?”

Ned nearly chokes at being directly addressed. “Mr. Iron Man Tony Stark, I am so sorry about hacking into - “ he lowers his voice to a whisper, “ - the suit, but, well - Peter made me do it!”

Peter groans. “I hate you. I really do. I’m going to literally throw you under the bus,” he threatens as the bus backs into a parking space.

“That wouldn’t be very neighborly or friendly,” Ned says pointedly, and Tony snorts.

“You’re fine, kid. If anything, I was impressed,” Tony tells him, and Ned wheezes.

Mr. Harrington makes his way to the front as everyone talks excitedly.

“You know the drill. Don’t disappear, don’t drown, don’t get kidnapped, stay in pairs, don’t buy sketchy things from sketchy strangers, and just don’t do anything that will cause me or Mr. Stark a lot of paperwork,” he tells the group.

“Amen to that,” Tony mutters, and everyone laughs, already halfway out of their seats.

“Wait!” Mr. Harrington continues. “You guys need to be changed into dry clothes and back on the bus by 6:30. Snacks are in the cooler, and we’re getting dinner on the way back. Got it?”

“Yes, Mr. Harrington,” the students chant in unison. Appeased, he steps aside and lets the students file off the bus.

Peter, Ned, and MJ quickly gather their things and make their way to the boardwalk in their sandals and swimwear. MJ points out a little ghost crab scurrying across one of the dunes as they walk.

When they step onto the sand, Peter halts, blood freezing in his veins.

Little grains of sand have already gotten into his sandals, the gritty sensation horrifyingly familiar. It takes his breath away. Beside him, Ned pauses.

“What’s wrong?” his friend asks, missing the ashen look on Peter’s face.

Peter clears his throat, trying to quell the increasing panic. “I, uh - n-nothing. I just forgot something on the bus. You guys go on ahead. I’ll be right back.”

“You sure?” Ned asks, and Peter nods, swallowing down his nerves. MJ narrows her eyes at him, but he shakes his head subtly, and she nods, steering Ned to the water, where everyone else is already toeing at the waves.

As soon as they’re away, Peter steps back onto the boardwalk and kicks his shoes off, trying to get the sand away from him as he runs on bare feet back to the bus. He passes Mr. Harrington.

“Forgot something,” Peter mutters shortly, not even bothering to stop. He just needs to get away. He hates himself for not anticipating this.

The doors thankfully, are still open, and the bus driver is standing a few feet away as he talks on the phone. Peter runs onto the bus and runs smack into Tony.

Shit, Peter curses to himself. I thought he was already off.

“Peter?” Tony asks, hands coming up to Peter’s shoulders, steadying him. The kid is panting now, breaths coming in short little gasps.

All he can think of is how, not that long ago, he was in pieces, no bigger than grains of sand. Dust. Ash. He hates all of it, hates how it makes him feel, how it makes him remember.

“Peter - Pete, hey hey,” Tony soothes, gently lowering him onto a seat. “Breathe, buddy. Just breathe, everything’s okay.”

Peter nods, trying to steady himself as he twists his hand into Tony’s sleeve, grounding himself. Tony scans the kid, trying to figure out what could have set him off. That’s when he notices the bare feet, red and raw from the heat of the pavement.

Already forming an idea of what happened, Tony quietly talks Peter through the panic attack, gently easing him back into the here and now.

Eventually, Peter slumps forward, head coming to rest on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony brings a hand up to rest in the soft curls.

“You’re safe, kid, I promise,” Tony murmurs. “Want to tell me what happened?” he asks.

Peter shakes his head, but his mouth opens to speak anyway. “It was the sand,” he says hoarsely, and Tony nods to himself, cursing himself for thinking of this ahead of time. “It just - I know it’s stupid, but it makes me think of - of - “

Tony’s grip tightens around him. “It is not stupid, Peter. What you went through was traumatic. It’s not just going to go away.”

“Everyone else got dusted too, but they don’t - they don’t flinch at everything that so much as resembles it,” Peter counters, pulling away from him.

“Everyone else didn’t feel it like you did,” Tony says firmly. “And even if they did, it doesn’t matter. Everyone reacts to trauma differently.”

“I guess,” Peter mutters, looking down at his feet with a sigh.

“Do you want to go home?” Tony asks. “I can have Happy come pick us up.”

Peter shakes his head. “No, no. I, uh. Don’t want to ruin this for anyone.” Tony opens his mouth to protest, but Peter cuts him off. “I have a pair of tennis shoes for the ride back. I’m just going to change into those and maybe sit on a towel. I should be fine.”

“You sure?” Tony checks as Peter sifts through his bag and pulls out his old tennis shoes.

“Yeah,” Peter says, quickly pulling them on and standing up. They walk quietly across the boardwalk, Tony keeping an eye out for any signs of distress as they get closer to the sand.

Peter takes a deep breath and tenses as he steps onto the sand but relaxes when it doesn’t evoke the same sickening feeling as before.

Tony smiles proudly and briefly pulls him close before pointing to where MJ and Ned are sitting on their respective towels, just far enough out of reach from the waves.

“Looks like your friends are waiting for you,” he comments, and Peter grins, jogging over with his towel.

“Hey! You guys didn’t want to get in?” Peter asks, carefully spreading his towel out on the ground next to them.

“Too cold,” MJ answers shortly, even as everyone else splashes in the waves. There’s a knowing look in her eyes as she watches Tony lay out his towel next to them.

Peter nods, trying to convey his gratitude.

“Plus, it’s much more fun to watch Flash try to swim. He’s surprisingly awful at it,” Ned chimes in.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll get caught in a rip current,” MJ jokes, and Peter gives her a chastising nudge while both Ned and Tony laugh.

“That’s not very nice,” Peter scolds, but MJ shrugs as if to say, Your point?

The four of them spend hours like that, just sitting and talking and exchanging jokes. By the time they’re back on the bus, both MJ and Ned have been offered paid internships, which Ned accepts through a happy squeal, and MJ politely says she needs some time to think about it.

All in all, it was a good trip.

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no-birdstofly · 5 years

Note

lol i was about to prompt you vietreau “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” but apparently two other souls had the same beautiful thought. So how about a very different mood: vietreau 32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” :)

an extremely loose interpretation of the prompt that...... ended up brot3. sorry! set in the same universe as this zombie au. They’re driving through the Mojave when they get a flat, because of course they are. Tommy’s already kicking the dead tire by the time Lovett and Jon climb out of the car, both of them drowsy from the heretofore steady lull of the drive. At least the dust storm has worn down.

Jon lifts up his sunglasses to roll his eyes toward Lovett. He opens the trunk, getting out the jack and a tire iron, before Lovett comes over to help him wrestle the spare out. “I, uh, don’t know how to do this,” he says, looking sideways at Lovett. “I have no idea.”

“Step aside, manliest of men, I’ve got this,” Lovett says, pushing the jack under the chassis.

“C’mon,” Tommy says, “we’re on lookout.” He pushes a handgun into Jon’s hands, and Lovett sees the almost-imperceptible stiffening of Jon’s shoulders. It must show even worse on his face because Tommy grips his shoulder reassuringly and meets Lovett’s eyes behind his back with a grim look.

Jon hates carrying a gun, hates carrying any weapon, as far as Lovett can tell. He might’ve guessed Jon was somewhat of a pacifist, before, but weren’t they all… before? Jon can’t seem to convince themselves that the zombies aren’t people any more, that they can’t be saved. He sees the humanity in all of them, no matter how decayed and rotted they are. He still hasn’t killed one, working more as back-up to Lovett and Tommy, and thank god that hasn’t gotten one of them killed yet. It’s the reason why he has a long, twisting scar now, though. Why he had to spend a week in a repurposed old miltary hospital while Lovett and Tommy made themselves sick with worry, even after Jon woke up. Jon had run from the zombie, distracting it from Lovett, and, refusing to shoot it, he’d slipped in gore and gotten himself nearly cut in half on the remains of a burned-out car. Tommy had blown the head off the thing before it could finish the job, but Jon was already on his way to bleeding out. Lovett had thought, hoped, after all that, that Jon would be more willing to -- to do what needs to be done. Lovett’s not a violent person either, but maybe years of horror video games and movies make it easier for him to see them as what they are: undead creatures that you have to kill before they kill you.

Tommy sketches out a perimeter, even though they can see far out into the desert from here, and they lazily patrol it, keeping an eye on the dust cloud off in the distance. Lovett tries not to worry about that, or wonder what Tommy says that makes Jon throw his head back and laugh, the sound carrying over the dry earth. He has to focus on fixing this so they can get the hell out of here. They’re sitting ducks, trapped out here as night rapidly falls. The dust is picking up again when Jon wanders over. “Need any help?” Lovett shakes his head. “Tommy send you to check on me?” Jon grins sheepishly, which is as good as a yes. His sunglasses are tucked in the neck of his t-shirt, even though he's squinting against the dust and sand flying around. Must be getting too dark to see with them on, Lovett realizes. Why didn't Jon pack his polarized ones when the world ended?“You even check that thing?” Lovett asks, tilting his chin toward the gun loose in Jon’s hand. Jon scowls. “Of course I did.” “Show me,” Lovett says, even though his attention is on the tire. “The way we taught you.” Because they had taught him, again and again, drilled it into him to check the magazine and the chamber, how to pull the slide back easier. He listens to Jon doing it, methodically, and looks up as he flicks the safety back on and tucks it into the waistband of his jeans. “Good,” he says, mostly to see Jon smile. His face is already getting dirty with dust. “You should get one of the bandanas from my bag. Make Tommy put it on you for you,” Lovett says, because that’s one thing Jon hasn’t come close to mastering for some reason. Like he’s been summoned, Tommy walks closer to them, keeping half an eye on Jon as he rifles through Lovett’s bag in the trunk, and half an eye on the encroaching storm. He opens his mouth, but Lovett beats him to it.

“I know, I know we have to go. I’m almost there,” Lovett says, and Tommy nods and does a wide circle before coming closer to them again. Circling the wagons, Lovett thinks inanely, trying to force the lug nut tighter. Lovett watches out of the corner of his eye as Tommy takes the bandana from Jon’s hands and folds it in half, carefully using it to cover Jon’s nose and mouth and tying it behind his head, adjusting the line of it in the front afterward, over the bridge of Jon’s nose, his hands gentle on Jon’s face. Lovett swallows, waiting for them to break eye contact. It takes a long time, but finally Tommy turns away, walking back out ahead on the road, shotgun over one shoulder.

Lovett watches Jon watch him, his body one long, loose line, before he turns back to Lovett and grins. Lovett can’t see his mouth, but he can tell from the lines around his eyes. From the way Jon always smiles with his whole body. “Do I look like I could rob a bank?” “Sure,” Lovett says, “you’re a regular Bonnie Parker.” “Does that make you Clyde then?” Jon asks. Lovett looks over to where he can just see Tommy through the gathering dust clouds and back to Jon. Jon’s still watching him, eyes bright and curious over the navy of the handkerchief. Lovett shrugs. “Uh, guys?” Tommy calls back, and Lovett looks up to see Tommy racing back toward them. Jon fumbles to pull his gun out of his waistband. “There’s something coming. We good to get back on the road yet?” The dust and sand are swirling so thick now that turning on the headlights will only make visibility worse, so Lovett can’t see what Tommy saw, but he trusts him. “Just about, I need a few more minutes,” Lovett says. Tommy nods, face grim, and then he yells. He’s gone, when Lovett jerks upright, vanished into the dust. Jon’s staring after him, stock-still. “Jon,” Lovett says, low. “Go. You have to go.” Jon nods, but he doesn’t move. “Jon, for the love of--” Jon glances back at him, eyes wide and scared, and barrels into the dust cloud. Lovett grits his teeth against wanting to chase after them and focuses on the car. If he doesn’t fix the car, they’re dead on the ground anyway. He has to fix the car, so they have an escape. He has to fix the car, and not think about both of them getting murdered by zombies while he crouches here in relative safety. He hears the sound of a gunshot, small caliber, from Jon’s gun, not Tommy’s, and looks up to see the muzzle flare light up the dust. He can’t make out anything but shadows in the brief light. There’s another shot, then a third. He gets the last lug nut secured and stands, tire iron in hand. He wonders if he has time to get his machete when two forms lumber out of the dust. It’s Tommy, dragging Jon beside him. Neither of them look bloody or hurt, but he can tell Jon’s shaking from here. Tommy nods at him, and Lovett’s shoulders relax. Tommy shoves Jon into the passenger seat of the car before coming to help Lovett heft the useless tire into the trunk in the hopes it can be fixed with a patch when they get back to civilization. “Is he--?” Lovett asks, but then the car door flies open and Jon stumbles out, falling to his knees in the sand as he wretches. He’s only sick once, but he heaves for a long time, his whole body flinching when Tommy lays a hand on his back. Lovett hovers, holding one of their last water bottles. When Jon looks up at them, his face is chalky from dust above where the bandana had been tied, now dirty and crumpled around his neck, and there are streaks of clean skin under his eyes. From tear tracks, Lovett realizes, Jon’s eyes red and wet. “We need to go,” Tommy says, and Lovett helps him get Jon to his feet, pulling him back to the car. Jon’s still trembling, and it’s only then that Lovett realizes Tommy has both of their guns. Lovett sits in the middle of the backseat, so he can keep a wary eye on Jon, who’s crumpled against the passenger side door, hands tight around the water bottle. He’s staring off into the distance, breathing hard through his mouth. Tommy starts the car and pulls back on the road, swerving neatly around a dead zombie some fifty feet along. Jon recoils when he sees it, slamming his eyes shut. Tommy reaches over to lay a hand on his shoulder, gripping him hard, and Lovett trusts his instincts and reaches forward, too, resting his hand on the back of Jon’s neck. He can feel the sweat there, and the tensed muscles. “Jon,” Tommy says lowly, “you saved my life.” Jon hiccups in a breath. “I-- I killed him, I--” “You saved my life,” Tommy says again, bracingly, and he repeats it over and over until Jon nods, silently agreeing, until Tommy can put both hands back on the wheel. “I was. I was so scared,” Jon croaks out. “I’m scared all the fucking time, but I couldn’t. It couldn’t take you, Tom. It can’t have you.” He looks over his shoulder at Lovett. “Either of you,” he adds, firmly. He settles into Lovett’s hold, tipping his head back against the headrest, and Lovett lets himself rub his thumb soothingly up and down the side of Jon’s neck as he relaxes.

“Alyssa said we could stay awhile,” Lovett says softly, after Jon’s dropped off and when he can just make out the lights of Vegas on the horizon. Or, well. What lights are left, for the casinos that have been able to keep them on. The ones repurposed by enterprising survivors, like Alyssa.

"Yeah, she did,” Tommy agrees, looking at him in the rearview mirror for a second.

"She's putting us up in the penthouse. Can you imagine? All we had to do to live in the lap of luxury is survive the apocalypse.” Tommy rolls his eyes; Lovett can just see it in the mirror. “Don’t use the ‘A’ word.”

“It has two bedrooms,” Lovett soldiers on, “but maybe we just, uh. Maybe we just use one?” “One king bed?” Tommy jokes, and Lovett laughs. It feels good to laugh today, even if it wakes Jon up. “Oh,” Jon says, sitting up. Lovett lets his hand fall away, but Jon reaches back for him without looking. “We’re there?” “Just about, yeah,” Lovett says, unable to keep the smile off his face as Jon looks back and forth between them, his fingers laced with Lovett’s.“Did you ask him, Tommy?” “Ask me what?” Lovett interrupts, before Tommy can speak. “Alyssa said we can take one of the penthouses, so--” he breaks off when Lovett starts laughing. “Yeah,” Lovett says, sharing a sly grin with Tommy in the mirror. “Yeah, he asked me.” “You know we’re scared all the time, too, right?” Tommy says. “Try fucking terrifed,” Lovett adds. Jon ducks his head. “I know, it’s just--” “We know, Jon,” Lovett says, squeezing Jon’s hand in his. “Trust us.”

#fic #ask #thetimesinbetween #three #zombies

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sweetsameli · 4 years

Text

Chapter four: The Force Guides Me

I hear the alert of the hyperdrive indicating we are approaching our destination and I head over to the cockpit, Darryl following closely behind. He flips a switch as he sits down in the pilot chair and we disengage from hyperspace, Lothal pulling up into view. There are grey clouds covering most of the planet but I can see blue from the oceans of water and greenish brown from the lands surrounded by it. A sudden burst of energy hits me, and I stumble back a little holding my head, grabbing the comm’s chair to keep myself from falling over. Darryl quickly comes over to me, placing his hand on my back.

“Are you okay?” he looks at me with concern. I shake my head but the energy surge doesn't fade away. I turn my head to look out the view port and i see a pillar of light coming from the top crest of the planet. i tilt my head to the side and walk closer to the viewport. Darryl watches from where he is standing, confusion seeping from him.

“Do you see that?” I ask, a whisper going through my head, telling me i need to go there.

“See what?” Darryl asks as he walks up next to me to see through the viewport. “All i see is a possible storm moving in.” i look over at him and then back at the planet, the pillar of light still there. The force must be really strong there... Or an old temple may be there... I have to check it out.

“I...” How can I even begin explaining this to him? I’m not even sure what it is myself. I let out a sigh and sit in the co-pilot chair. “I’m fine. Let’s land the ship near a market.” He looks at me for a bit, I hear his thoughts of wanting to ask if I am sure I’m alright, and what exactly I saw but instead, he silently goes to the pilot chair.

Darryl starts up the landing sequences as soon as he sees a nearby settlement and we land in a ship yard and he turns to face me. I'm hitting a couple of buttons to shut off the ship and try to ignore the feeling of his eyes drilling into me but he continues. Chewing the inside of my cheek and let my shoulders drop a little, then turn to look at him. He raises an eye brow, indicating he wants me to tell him what I saw.

“I got a surge of... energy when we pulled from hyperspace.” I attempt to explain. He puts a hand to his chin and looks at me again, wanting me to continue. I sigh. “As a species, my people can see the force, you knew that right?” He nods his head. “Well, sometimes we can see where a lot of force gathers up and shines through our sight like no other but it’s hard to tell if it’s the force or not because the force isn’t just one color, at least not to us.” I stand up, going over to the exit ramp. I turn around and look at him. “I saw a pillar of white light shooting out from the planet. I’m not sure where though. It didn’t exactly point to one spot.” He gives me a puzzled look and then nods his head, getting up and coming with me to the exit ramp ladder.

“Well, before we leave this ship, what did you decide?” He catches me off guard, then I remember to what he is referring too. I give him a neutral look. I hadn’t really thought about it...I do enjoy his company... and being on this journey was starting to get lonely... Plus, there is something about him that makes me want to trust him, even though I have seen him lie a couple of times already. I get a tingling sensation in my stomach and remember my feelings when he first asked me if I wanted his help.

“I believe it would be a good idea if we travel together. Even if there are bounty hunters after both of us.” I smile at him. He smiles back at me and then takes both of my shoulders with his hands, looking straight at me.

“Then I will help you find this pillar of white light. Even if it takes us years.” He lets go of my shoulders and I groan at the thought of being somewhere for years.

“I doubt it would take years.” He laughs at me and goes down the ladder and I follow after him. The ramp opens up and we start walking out, the sky slightly grey but the air feels warm.

“We should fix the ship and find that tracking beacon before we go anywhere. Just so that bounty hunter doesn’t try to find us again.” I nod in agreement and start to climb the ship. Darryl stays on the ground and walks off to somewhere underneath the ship. I walk around on the topside of the ship and notice that it is in need of some parts desperately. I look at the laser turret and suck in some air through my teeth. It took a real beating from that asteroid and laser bolts.

“I’m so sorry Dauntless...” I say quietly to the ship. I keep walking around to see if I can find the tracker.

“Get... Off... My... Ship!” I hear Darryl struggling. I walk over to the edge of the ship to where I heard his voice and lean over. I see him trying to pull something off the hull of the ship and with one last tug, he stumbles back a little holding something small in his hand. He throws it to the ground and shoots at it, the thing blowing up into tiny pieces. “There. One problem slightly solved.” He looks over in my direction. “Let me guess. We need parts?” I nod my head, pursing my lips together. I can feel the frustration wave off of him. “Well, lets’ karking hope the shops here have it.” I do a flip off the ship, landing and looking at him.

“Are you okay? You seem really frustrated all of sudden.” I ask, trying to stay calm to hopefully calm him down. He huffs and points to something closer to the ramp. I see a similar thing of what he pulled off and go over to it.

“They are about five others. Damn bastard probably threw a bunch in hopes that if I found one, I would think it was the only one. Ugh!” He throws his hands up in anger. I let out a calm sigh and cast out my sight, trying to focus on the tracking beacons. I slowly bring my hand up and in one swift movement, I pull them all down. I close my hand into a fist and they all shatter. He looks at me then at the destroyed tracking beacons then back at me, his frustration slowly leaving him. “Remind me not to make you mad.” I smile, putting my hand back down.

“Lets’ head into the market.” I walk towards the blast doors and Darryl is walking up beside me, putting on his hat. We reach the market place and I look around for the clothing vendor.

“I’m gonna get some supplies and search for the parts we need.” He points his thumb in the direction that leads down an alley way and that’s when I notice the town is very busy; flags strewn up in all sorts of places and a message on the holo board that says ‘Happy Harvest! Lothal Days are here!’

“Lothal days?” I look back at Darryl and he shrugs his shoulders.

“Must be in the middle of a festival.” He smirks. “Lets’ meet back up here after we are done, okay?” I nod my head and he begin to walk down the alleyway. I start wondering the streets, passing by a cantina and notice a bounty board broadcasting all available bounties. I don’t recognize a lot of the faces but then my face passes by and my heart sinks. Is Aydgage looking for me now? Why doesn’t he just use the force to search for me? I bite my lip, suddenly feeling exposed. I pull my hood up and continue to look for a clothing shop. After walking for a bit, I finally find one and walk into it. I look around and a small framed human female walks up to me.

“So rare to find a Miraluka here on Lothal.” she smiles slightly, wearing a uniform that matches the shops theme and she tilts her head to the side. “Are you a Jedi?” She slightly narrows her eyes but still seems inviting.

“Oh, no. I’m a...” Shoot, what should I say? “cargo hauler. I know what you’re thinking, ‘Miraluka cargo hauler? That’s weird.’ My parents thought so too but I wanted to do something different.” I give a false smile and she nods her head, still smiling but her eyes go soft. I see what Darryl means now. “I’m just looking for some new clothes. This is my only other pair of clothing at the moment. My other pair got... damaged.”

“Perfect! Let me help you!” She quickly walks off and starts grabbing cloths off the shelves and grabbing pairs of boots, going to a changing room. Putting the clothes down in the changing room, she motions her hands to come over to the changing room and I walk over quickly. “Just let me know if any don’t fit.” She cheerfully says. I’m a bit stunned that she actually believed me right away. I shake my head and close the door to the changing room. Wow, she got me a lot of clothes... I start putting on the clothes and they fit surprisingly well. They also vary in different styles, some being for cold weather, some for hot weather, and even some for sand storms. Hmm... how would she know I would be at all those types of places though? Suspicion raises up in my head then I let out slow breath. I did just tell her that I was a cargo hauler. Could mean smuggler here or something. I look at myself one more time in the mirror and smile. She is good nonetheless. They fit very well... but will I be able to afford these? I didn’t bring a whole lot of credits with me. Just enough to get one or two outfits. I put on the clothes I came in with and grab the other clothes, walking out of the changing room. I walk over to the counter and she smiles at me again. “How did you like them? All of them fit, right?”

“They were all perfect. I was just wondering though... Do you sell cloth visors here?” Remembering the scorched one I am wearing. She frowns a little.

“I’m so sorry. We don’t see those here.” She perks up a little. “But they do sell them at a shop just a couple of meters from here. It’s between the food supply vendor and speeder rental shop.” I nod my head.

“Great, thanks.” I start pulling out the clothes I liked the most. “I would like these ones.” She gives me a quizzical look.

“Do you not like the others?” She seems a little... hurt almost.

“Oh no, no! I love them. I just don’t have a whole lot of credits.” She smiles again and starts grabbing all the clothes and putting them into a bag for me. I’m about to say something but she says something before I can.

“Oh nonsense. It’s Lothal days! Everything in town is discounted! My store gives a 40% discount! And I know the life of a cargo hauler isn’t always pleasant but looking good shouldn’t be taken away.” she gives me a small smile and then taps on her data pad. “That will be 250 credits.” I hand her my cred stick. “Thank you for coming in and purchasing during Lothal days! I threw in some hair accessories as well.” She winks at me and hands me the bag and my cred stick. I take the bag but leave the stick.

“Keep the change. There isn’t much left on it but it should be enough for a tip. You know, for helping me out.” I nod my head at her.

“Oh, I can’t accept that.” she says stunned.

“Please, it would be my pleasure.” I smile shyly at her and she nods her head, waving bye to me and I walk out of the store. After walking towards where the store assistant directed me to, I feel something tug at the back of my head. I turn around and there is a tendril on the ground, calling me to follow it. The tendril reminds me of the pillar of white light I saw before we came to the planet and then I realize, this must be the path of which it wants me to follow. I want to follow it, I feel it tugging at my body to start walking but then I feel someone's hand on my shoulder and I turn around again, seeing that it was Darryl. He is carrying a bag and holding onto a small blue metal box. He smiles at me.

“There you are. You took forever.” I feel like I took forever. Shopping for clothes is such a trying experience.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Did you wait long?”

“A little but it’s fine. I got you something. Here” He gives me the box and I take it.

“What is it?” I ask, smiling. I start to pull the top off and inside is a piece of purple cloth that looks thin and is folded up. I part my lips a little, taking it out and looking at it. The cloth feels smooth and silky. It has patterned look that shimmer in a variety of blues, teal and green that swirls in no discernible pattern. I tilt my head to look at Darryl again. “Oh Darryl, you didn’t have to.” I smile.

“It wasn’t a big deal, I just thought you could use a new one.” He winks at me, then he puts his hand behind his head, seeming embarrassed. “You know, to disguise you more. I figured you might be discovered wearing that one. It looks like a one of a kind.” he motions his hand to my current cloth visor and I nod my head, remember something Ly’lis had said about it being design after of her family crest flag.

“You’re right.” I nod my head at him. “Could you help me put it on?” I hold it him and he puts his bag down, taking it from me. I turn around, putting the bag and box down. Stand back up, I take off my current one and hold still as he ties the new one on. After he finishes, I turn around and look at him. “How do I look?”

“Better.” He smiles at me again. “It reminds me of the sky near my family's home at night time and an aurora borealis would come through on Csilla.” he gives me a cheeky look. “Cilla. I like that. That’s what I’m gonna call you.” I shake my head, smiling though.

“Alright, I will allow that nickname.” I feel the force tugging at me again and i look towards the tendril and watch as it pulses slowly. It looks like it leads outside of the city.

“You okay? Whatchya looking at?” Darryl asks, catching my attention again.

“I may know the path to that pillar of light I was talking about earlier...” I say slowly, picking up my bag and the box.

“How so?” he curiously asks, also picking up his bag. I purse my lips together, trying to figure out how to explain it to him without sounding like I am some sort of drugged up lunatic.

“The force likes to give a lending hand sometimes. I know that sounds weird but it has its own will.” I sigh. I’m not sure I even understand that part. “Like with how I can see that pillar of light all the way from space? I mean, yes, I have a special type of vision that would allow me to see that but others would just get a... feeling, a sense of purpose to go there. With me though, I can see that I need to go there. Now, I can see the path to there. Almost like a rope leading me to where I should be.” He nods slowly.

“Then let's follow it, but first, we need to take our stuff back to the ship. I have a speeder bike on there that we can use so we don’t have to use the ship.” I nod my head in agreement and start heading to the ship with Darryl. He clicks in two buttons when we arrive the ship, one pulling down the normal ramp we use, and another comes down off to the left side of the ship, being a little smaller. We both walk up the bigger ramp and I climb up the ladder to put my stuff in my room. Darryl, however, stays down, putting his stuff near the locker that holds his gear and leaves, going towards the other ramp. I climb down and he has a two-person speeder out in front of the ramp. He gives me a cheeky grin. “Shall I drive, or you?” I push out my lips, wrinkling my nose and I walk over to the speeder, getting in the driver seat. He clicks the buttons and the ramps go up and he climbs onto the back, placing his hands on my back. He seems a bit nervous and I hear him form a thought but he quickly dismisses it.

“You don’t have to come with, ya know?” I say before starting the engine. He lets out a quick breath.

“I know, I want to. Gotta make sure you don’t get yourself killed.” He tries to tease but I can also tell he is being serious.

“I can take care of myself.” I retort back, revving the engine a little to make sure it’s running okay.

“Obviously.” He deadpans, and he throws the thought, or more like memory, of finding me in my ship, half dead. I grit my teeth. How dare he use my ability against me. I throw the bike into gear and push forward, the bike whooshing quickly out of the hanger bay doors into the open field. Darryl grabs my waist quickly from the sudden movement then laughs. “I’m gonna keep that in mind now. I can throw thoughts at you.” I scoff. This man is going to drive me insane. He pulls his arms away and I can feel where they were, a heat coming to my cheeks. Yep, definitely will drive me insane. One way or another.

I follow the tendril of the force, going through a lot of mountain terrain. After what feels like hours of nothing but mountains, we come across an open plain field. The pillar of light coming into view and fading as we get closer to what looks like a Jedi temple. It is made out of stone, having four small spires surround a very tall and large spire that has odd, faded carvings in it. Once we get close enough, I stop the bike and get off, Darryl getting off as well. I look at the carvings more and realize that they are actually an old Jedi written language, that was lost as time went on. That’s the same language in which I saw the research in.

“So, this is a Jedi temple huh? Looks kind of... small?” Darryl walks up next to me, looking at the temple. “I mean as in, how did it fit some many people?” I turn to look at him.

“Actually, this temple is more of a ‘vision’ temple.” I point to one of the carvings on the wall. “You see that carving?” He nods his head. “It means a master and their apprentice may enter together.” I point to another one continuing my explanation. “the apprentice will journey through alone to learn more of themselves and the force. The master will wait.” I purse my lips together. “I may have a problem though. I'm not a master nor an apprentice. And my master is unavailable at the moment.”

“So, this might be an impossible temple to get into?” Darryl asks, folding his arms across his chest. I bite my lip, trying to read more of the carvings but they are too faded for me to understand.

“I don’t know. It is possible. I just...” I look at the sky, the pillar being very bright and strong. I get a sudden urge that I need to go into the temple. “It’s calling to me. I know that I need to get inside somehow...” The entrance to the temple starts to open slowly, I get down to a defensive stance, my hand at my hip to grab my lightsaber and Darryl hovers his hand over his pistol. We see a figure walk out, wearing long dark grey robes, the hood up and the sleeves encasing their folded-up arms. I keep my stance. “Who are you?” The figure gets closer and then puts out their hands; looking old and frail. They slowly reach up towards the hood and pull it down, revealing a very old male human. His hair is white but neatly cut to just above his ears, his eyes are a bright blue but time has not been kind to them. His cheeks are sunken in and he feels different in the force; like he is there but also isn’t there.

“Welcome Mikacele. I have been expecting you.” His voice sounds... younger than I was expecting. I slowly get out of my defensive stance, the force whispering in my ear to trust this man. He looks so old but sounds so young. How can that be?

“How did you name my name?” I ask cautiously. He smiles at softly.

“I know everyone's name who seeks knowledge and clarity. I guide the masters and their apprentices to here and allow them to discover their way in. Those who come alone are greeted by me so I can allow them in. I protect this temple from those who seek to use the knowledge it shares for destruction, though that has not happened yet.” He raises an eye brow, still smiling. “I even know your companions name. Darryl Trileav or known on Csilla, D-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Darryl gets out of his defensive stance. “We get it.” he gestures his hands to stop the old man. The old man smiles, bowing slightly.

“Yes, of course Darryl. I know of your past as well. Both of your pasts and what you seek.”

“But Darryl isn’t a Jedi?” I tilt my head to the side.

“Tsk, I thought you would have found out by now. I’m a Jedi in secret.” Darryl elbows me and I let out an annoyed huff. The old man just chuckles softly.

“You are right. He is not a Jedi but he echoes in the force. He too is seeking knowledge and clarity.”

“Ha, good one. But I'm not seeking knowledge, especially not from a Jedi temple. And I've met clarity, we didn’t get along.” the old man just smiles.

“We shall see young Darryl.” He looks over at me. “I am called Tre’Koven, and I am here to start your journey for what you seek in the temple. Young Darryl must stay here though.” I look at Darryl and he gives me an understanding look. I look back at Tre’Koven and nod at him. He bows towards Darryl and walks back to the temple.

Following after him, I feel a surge of force energy rush at me as we walk closer to the temple entrance. The door closes behind us with a thud and I look around. The inside appears well taken care of with tall grey stone pillars and three doorways behind them. I look back at Tre’Koven and he stands there with a neutral face. I know the force is telling me to trust him but it hasn’t been exactly forthcoming with me lately...

“I sense conflict in you, young Mikacele. You do not trust me because I look human and appear old yet sound young.” Tre’Koven says, almost as if he read my thoughts. “Allow me to ease your troubling mind. I was human, a very long time ago but after some...unwanted witchcraft of an old rival, I was summoned and have kept to the temple after defeating my rival to make sure it does not go corrupt again.” I tilt my head to the side. Is that even possible? Summoning the dead? A temple being corrupt?

“Who was your rival? How did they bring you back?” Tre’Koven takes in a steady breath and looks off in the distance, pain flashing across his eyes.

“A very long story to which I will keep short by saying she turned to follow a cult called the ‘Nightsisters’ and ‘Nightbrothers’.” He looks back at me. “They are a cult whom use the force in corrupt and twisted ways. Bringing forth creatures that are distorted hybrids, beings who are dead and dabble in ways to live forever.” I gape at the thought, being stunned.

“I have never heard of them, ever. Why wasn’t I warned about them? What happened to them?” A billion questions go off in my head and I can think of only those ones to say out loud to him. Tre’koven smiles sadly.

“The Jedi order created the cult. Not on purpose but vicariously. It is something they are ashamed of and try to hide the fact that it happened. It is actually why I left the order.”

“Wait, if you left the order, then why do you guard this Jedi temple?”

“A question in which I will answer once you find your answer in the temple.” He gestures his hand out and I turn around. “Once you are finished, you will appear back here. Be mindful of your surrounding and know this. Your ability to use the force may not work in your vision. May the force watch over you.” I want to turn around and see that Tre’Koven is giving me an encouraging smile but I know that I have to stay my path and move forward.

I walk forward, going through the center doorway and for a while, there is nothing but cavernous walls but then I hear a scream bounce off the walls. I cringe and cover my ears but move forward. The scream slowly turns into my name being seductively said. I put my hands down and look around, trying to recognize the voice. When I look forward again, the scene has changed and I am in the middle of the council chambers. The room has the chairs for the council members but they are empty. Pillars stand in between each of the chairs and a stone sits in the middle of the room.

“Hello?” my voice echoes in the empty room. I walk around and hear the doors open, seeing Master Dauula walk in. He is reading a book and looks up, smiling once he sees me.

“Little one. You are alright I see. Have you found your way to the first book?” He says with his quiet demeanor.

“Yes, master.” I nod my head, smiling a bit. “At least, hopefully.” I tilt my head to the side and shrug my shoulders. Master Dauula gives me a stern look.

“Never question yourself. Believe in your path and follow what you know is right. You will come to understand in time.” He walks towards a doorway on the other side of the room. Should I follow him, ask him how is he doing? I shake my head. No, he is just a vision. I must remember that. I look towards where he is going. But what if he is leading me to the book? I am about to follow but something beckons me towards a different doorway that appears just in front of me. I swallow back the urge to follow him and go towards the new door. ‘believe in your path.’ I hear master Dauula’s voice echo through my head.

The door slides open and reveals kyber crystals everywhere in a very rocky cave. All of them colorless and do not sing to me. They just pulse with an empty glow but somehow, I feel that I will be wanting to come here again. I’m just not sure where ‘here’ is. I purse my lips, and then sigh. I’m sure the force will show me where I need to go when the time comes. I walk forward through the kyber crystal cave and hear the muffled sound of a water fall. Following it, I squeeze through a slim crack in the wall of the cave and eventually come out into a large cavern.

The cavern itself is smooth and has two levels to it, the waterfall being at the top level. The bottom level has a lake in which the waterfall cascades into, moss scattered all across the top. There is a rocky surface along the waterfall looking to be my path to the top level. Heading that direction, I begin my ascent to the top. Hauling myself over the ledge I see another lake, glowing a deep purple and much larger than the one below. In the center sits a small island with an object resting on the shore. I stare at the object on the island feeling a strong urge to get it, that it wants me to grab it. I strip down to my undergarments and jump into the lake, feeling warmth from it. I swim to the island and the item comes better into view, just a simple satchel. Finally reaching the island, I walk towards it, kneeling to pick it up.

“My, my. I remember the last time you took off that much clothing. Do you remember? We had decided to go swimming at the pond near the temple.” I freeze, stunned at the voice. Is this part of my vision. Should I turn around? I get the sense that this is definitely not part of the vision and need to turn around. Standing back up, I turn to see Aydgage standing at the shoreline of the lake. He looks paler, black lines are just forming from his eyes and they seem to glow now. His clothing not standard Jedi robes anymore, being black and brown in color. They seem even more... sinister than a Mandalorian executioner. I swallow, tightening my jaw.

“Aydgage...” I say softly.

“I knew I would find you eventually. It was hard to find you at first but then...” He starts to pace, putting his hands behind his back. “You shined so brightly through the force that I knew I had to come and find you.”

“How are you-”

“In this vision of yours?” He interrupts me, stopping to face me. His face trying to soften but the black lines are making that impossible. “Oh, my little bird, there is so much I have been taught that would have even the most studied Jedi envious of me. Darth Revan has shown me secrets that have been lost to the Jedi a long time ago. And he is willing to show all of the Jedi, if they were just willing to accept it.” He chuckles a little manically, a sickening feeling crawling over my skin. “It was so hard at first to find you. Always pulling away just before I could finally get into your vision.” I gasp quietly, realization hitting me. My other visions... my headaches... He was making my visions come to me... making me cut myself off from the force. Or maybe... the force was trying to protect me? Allowing me to pull away from the vision?

“Why?” I say, pushing the fear of him invading my mind at a moment's notice away.

“Why?” He laughs darkly, “Because I love you Mikacele.” his face grows serious. “I need you. Haven’t I plainly shown that to you?” He puts out his hand towards me. “We can become the most powerful dark Jedi the galaxy has seen. Bringing the Jedi order down to its knees and allowing the Sith Empire to grow and control the system.” He has a longing in his eyes, the same longing I saw when I left the Jedi temple. I want to look away but instead stay my ground.

“Aydgage... why did you turn? Why did you kill Reneji? Is this really what Revan has taught you?” I pled.

“He was in the way of me obtaining my power, the fool.” He hisses, looking at his hands then back at me. “Revan said the only way for me to fully accept the power he has shown me was to kill another Jedi. So, I did, and I enjoyed it.” His smile being dark. “Reneji was weak.” He throws his hand to the side in anger. “Said to us that this wasn’t the way of the Jedi.” He mocks Reneji’s voice and then scoffs. “If power isn’t the way of the Jedi, then I am glad to be rid of them.” He paces again. “The Jedi have what is coming to them and no one can stop us.” He stops pacing, looking at the ground in front of him. “Oh, my little bird.” He looks at me again, trying to show a gentle face. “Let me show the power of which Revan has shown me.” He throws out his arm and i feel myself start to move. My arms pinned to my side and I struggle to get free. Panic rising No, this isn’t right. I can’t move!

“No, please! Aydgage, put me down!” I scream. Aydgage grips me by the throat, without putting pressure to choke me though, and closes his eyes. I feel dark tendrils slither into my mind and I grit my teeth, trying to resist.

“Don’t resist dear. I will find where you are.” The tendrils grow into thick branches, tearing down my barriers and pain sears all over my body. I moan loudly at the pain and Aydgage almost seems to enjoy it. He is going through my memories, trying to figure out where I am. I try to block him out, but fail. I curl my hands into fists, still trying to resist by blocking my memories I have of Darryl, knowing very well that he would use him against me. May even become jealous of him.

A howl then echoes throughout the cavern and Aydgages turns his head to see a large deep purple wolf spring from the lake. It lands near us, growling at Aydgage. He lets go of me, turning his hand at the wolf to throw it but it jumps at him, grabbing him with its massive mouth and teeth. I hear Aydgage yell in pain as the wolf jumps into the lake, disappearing.

The cavern becomes silent and I lay there, stunned and panting. What was that? I put my hand to my throat, the feeling of Aydgage hand still lingering there. I feel invaded...violated. Where did he learn that? Why did he do that... I let out a shaky breath, unsure if I can get up. I slowly rise to my feet, going over to the lake and start to swim back to the island, trying to shake the feeling off. I will be okay... I need to just... focus. I walk up the island again, going over to the satchel and kneeling next to it. I hesitate for moment. What if this isn’t the book? What if it’s something else? I shake my head to get the doubt out of my mind and reach into the bag, pulling out a leather-bound book. I look the book over, seeing an ancient language etched on the front of the book and on the spine. It is smaller than I was expecting and off-white in color. I stand up and the vision shimmers away, being back in the main hall where Tre’Koven is waiting for me. I look down at myself, seeing my clothes back on and then look at Tre’Koven, holding the book in my hand. He nods at me and smiles.

“Welcome back, young Mikacele. It seems you have found what you are looking for.” He tilts his head to the side a little, concern coming to his face. “But it seems that something is troubling you?” I look at the ground, the feeling of my mind being torn into coming back.

“Is it possible for someone to... come into your vision with a vision of themselves?” Tre’Koven gives me a stern look.

“Everything is possible with the force. It depends on the level of skill of the person who can use it and how in tune they are with the force. Why do you ask?” I swallow, turning my head up to look at him.

“My old friend came to visit me.” I clutch the book a little harder. “I knew right away he wasn’t really part of my vision... then he started talking to me... told me of the power he has gained from following... someone at the temple who brought back from the war ‘teachings’ to make the Jedi more powerful.”

“The reason you started your quest.” He calmly says to me. I nod my head. “And what do you think now?”

“I think...” I stop to think. What do I think? When Aydgage used his powers on me, it felt wrong. A void incapable of light to touch. He wasn’t acting like himself either... As if he was acting on raw primal power and emotions instead... something that Aydgage normally doesn’t ever do... “I think Aydgage has fallen from his path.” I stand a little taller. “And I believe I need to stay on my journey, stay to the path that I have paved to find these books. To learn more about the force and what it teaches without being controlled by the thought of becoming powerful.” Tre’Koven smiles.

“Good, you have taken a step towards understanding what the books will teach you.” He puts his hands on my shoulders. “something else is troubling you. What else happened?” Feelings of unease and violation come to the surface. I look away.

“He invaded my mind, trying to figure out where I am. I’m not sure what he got and I'm worried that he may come here and discover the secrets that this temple still holds.” I try to not sob when I say that. My throat tightening a little. Tre’Koven lets go of my shoulders and folds his arms across his chest.

“Ah. He used that technique.” He pursues his lips together and I look back at him.

“What do you mean? You have seen this before?”

“Yes. A race strong in the force, much like your race, called ‘Sith’ used the force for dark purposes. They didn’t care for the other beings, just as long as they got what they wanted and they became corrupt because of it. They are a violent race, using methods not approved by the Jedi Order and thus were not allowed to join. That’s when they created their own Order, calling it the Sith Empire.” Wait, that’s where that name comes from?

“What happened to them?”

“They disappeared. No one really knows for sure what happened.” I put a hand to my chin, looking down a little.

“Revan must have found something of theirs during the Mandalorian war... and become corrupted.” I look back Tre’Koven. “Is he trying to corrupt the Jedi temple?” He shrugs.

“You will have to find that out. Continue on your journey to find the answers you seek.” I nod my head. I feel a bit uneasy, knowing that this journey, this quest, will be difficult. Especially with Aydgage hunting me down through my visions.

“What will you do if he comes? How will you protect the temple against my old friend and his followers?” He just looks at me.

“Allow me to first show you why I was put in charge of this temple.” He stretches out his arms, energy coursing through the temple and I feel the ground start to shake. He puts his arms back into his robes. “I protect the force to keep it at balance. To keep it in harmony.” He bows to me and I bow back. “Remember young Mikacele. There is no good without evil, but evil must not be allowed to flourish. The force is what keeps us balanced.” He nods again and disappears into the temple as it shakes more. I have no time to think about what he says and rush out, trying to avoid some large rocks from falling onto me. I tuck and roll out the door and look over at the temple. Watching it sink into the ground, the ground still shaking. Sadness washes over me and I stand up.

“Cilla!” I hear Darryls voice coming closer. I turn around and he grabs my arm. “Come on! The whole place is coming down!” He runs back towards the speeder; it being much farther away than I thought. He gets on in the driver seat and I sit behind him. He starts up the speeder and drives off, the ground no longer shakes the further away we get. I want to look back but I know if I do, I'll only come up with more questions that I wanted to ask Tre’Koven. So, instead I just gently place my head on Darryl’s back, feeling very tired suddenly.

#fanfic #old republic #star wars #Own characters #Darth Revan #first fanfic #Look mom I'm doin it!#romance #adventure #self-discovery #invasion of mind #star wars old republic

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suckerforsaikik · 5 years

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Hypothetically, HYPOTHETICALLY, if someone were to write a Saiki Kusou no Psi nan crossover with assassination classroom. In your opinion, what would be the funniest, clever or most mysterious way to integrate him into class 3-E? (Assuming you've read/watched the series that is).

(this took way too long because i ended up binging the whole series for ‘research’)

Summary: Saiki tries to hide his psychic powers from the assassination classroom when he finds himself in their world.

Saiki needed to stop getting himself into these situations. He didn’t know which gods felt the need to torment him like they did, but an angry letter of complaint to their office wasn’t enough to make up for what happened.

It started as soon as he woke up. Approximately 0.0076 seconds after he got out of his bed, Saiki had noticed something wasn’t right.His limiter had fallen out during his sleep, and was now partially under the pillow. His bed and the better chunk of his room were submerged in sand, which went on for miles. Using his clairvoyance, Saiki still couldn’t see any people for a good 50 kilometres. He had found himself in the middle of the desert.

“Yare yare, I must’ve teleported.”

He then had tried teleporting to his house, but he couldn’t find it. He went through the whole neighbourhood, but his dad and mom didn’t seem to… exist? He even checked the whole country, But popping up all over Japan attracted the attention of a few parties.

And that eventually ended up with him here, With a government agent prattling on about whatever threat the world faced. After revealing his telekinesis on a surveillance camera (thankfully they never found out about his teleportation), the government of Japan had noticed him, and had immediately dragged him to a secret government bunker, talking about how they knew he had special powers. Not that he was listening. Instead, he was worrying over what had happened to everyone he know. The latest theory he had come up with was he had hopped a dimension. It only happened once before, and ended with him running from powerful espers from the 7th division of Claw. He soon realized it would take a day to get back to his normal dimension when he was trying to get back, so that was probably the minimum amount of time he’d have to spend here.

“What a cliche trope” Saiki sighed. “I’ll just have to play along, I guess”

“-the reward is 30 billion yen to kill that yellow monster. Will you do it?” The annoying side character agent, who introduced himself as Shiro, finished.

Saiki rolled his eyes. Even if he’d rather spend the day taking advantage of this universe’s coffee jelly, he knew he couldn’t escape the plot. If he tried running, he would just get dragged back into it for some stupid reason, or he’d be pulled into another, more ridiculous, story. It was the only thing that could beat him.

A nod confirmed his alliance.

“Excellent! I’ll get you prepared.” Saiki’s mind-reading abilities told him Shiro wasn’t the most mentally stable, but he figured he’d have a few episodes before Shiro went full crazy.

“Time to get you enrolled in the assassination classroom.”

—

(Somewhere in a sketchy government facility)

A bloodstained report smacked onto the desk of the prime minister.

“We have intel.” the spy who had delivered the file spoke, with his toque shading his eyes, and you could only see his dark pupils drilling down into your head.

“What’s it aboot?” The prime minister’s eyes had seen his fair share of wars, they were dark and unbreakable like a beaver’s den. He pulled the files toward him, examining the files with the intensity of as if they were tickets to a professional hockey game.

“The Japanese have been keeping secrets from us, sir. They have been hosting a dangerous octopus creature, who says they’ll destroy the Earth next March.”

“Those bastards.” The prime minister stood up from his desk, causing his chair to scrape the floor as it moved away from him.

“When I’m done with them, I’ll show them no mercy.” He furrowed his brows. “I’d bet a toonie they thought we couldn’t help because we’re a ‘peaceful’ country. I’ll show them… when we BLOW UP THAT MONSTER OURSELVES!!”

“How do you plan to accomplish that, sir?”

“Heat seeking missiles. We aim it right at the students so that damn octopus can’t escape, then we bomb the whole thing with anti-teacher pellets.”

“Sorry for doubting your plan, sir.”

“Sorry for making you doubt my plan.”

“Sorry.”

—

“I hear we’re getting another student transfer, Kayano!” Nagisa stopped to chat with his fellow student on the way to their mountain school.

“Do you think they’ll be normal this time?” Kayana said.

“Doubtful” Itona appeared. “The only transfer students we have are freaks. I had tentacles, Ritsu’s an assassination machine, and Karma has too many problems to be ‘normal’.” he listed the transfer students’ ‘quirks’ on his fingers.

“You might want to stop insulting me,” behind Itona, Karma stood. He smirked, then said “But I wouldn’t disagree.”

Everyone made their way to class, where KoroSensei was waiting.

“Hello class.” He tittered. “ The new transfer student comes today, and he has ALREADY challenged me to a fight, so we’re moving quite fast. Ooh, telekinesis? How intriguing!”

After staring at the note intently, KoroSensei held it up, showing japanese kanas spelling out the time and place for meeting, along with the students known powers.

“Now please be patient, everyone. The student should arrive right–”

The door to the classroom blew open. Shiro stepped into the scene, with Saiki a few seconds behind him, yet already regretting it.

“Hi.” Saiki said.

Stepping into the classroom, The minds of the students told Saiki about the previous fights of different rivals of Korosensei. All of them had failed, obviously. They tried to kill him, got beaten badly, then learned the value of friendship and working together. It seemed that was what was expected of him as a transfer. Saiki could at least help speed the process up.

‘Alright,’ he thought, ‘ I guess I have to do it.’

He held up his hands in surrender.

“Oh no. You are too strong, I can see it now. There is no way I can beat you. I’m so sorry, Shiro, I guess I’m giving up.” He walked off to the empty seat in the corner of the classroom, right next to a window. He smirked. A few more hours and he’d be out of this classroom .

“W-What?!” Shiro sputtered, stepping closer to Saiki with an intent to murder, “You’re supposed to fight. Get up and KILL HIM!!” he reached to grab Saiki’s shoulder’s before Korosensei’s tentacles pulled him away.

“You’re not allowed to hurt any of my students, Shiro.” Korosensei said, smiling. “Please excuse yourself from this classroom.”

Shiro left, albeit slowly. Saiki’s recently created plan was going well.

As Korosensei started the lesson, a student with flashy red hair (‘Karma Akabane’ Saiki noticed) leaned over to talk to him from the other desk.

“So, I heard you had telekinesis.” Karma face was two inches from Saiki. Saiki couldn’t really deny his powers here. He nodded.

“Interesting!” His face was now just an inch away. “Can I have an example?”

Yare yare. Saiki waved his hands, and a spoon flew into his hand from a nearby lunchbox. Letting go of it so it could float on its own, the metal spoon bent before Karma’s widening eyes. He let out a gasp, making everyone turn to see the spoon that was levitating thanks to a certain psychic’s powers. Now he had an audience.

“Wow! I guess it’s true. How much power do you have? Can you lift a car? A train? Could you fix the moon?”

“Why would I need to-” Shoot. That was close to revealing himself as an outsider. His telepathy showed him the broken crescent moon that all the class was thinking about. Could he fix it? He would have to take out his limiter and turn it back seven years, though it wouldn’t be hard theoretically. But if he said yes, that would mean they would ask him to fix it. It also wouldn’t make sense to how he could fix a whole moon and not defeat a yellow octopus man. Lying was the better option here. “I mean, no, Nothing bigger than spoons.”

“Um, okay.” The whole class was staring at him now. He could tell they were suspicious. He just had to switch the subject, and then they would forget.

“So what are those weird pink balls on your head?”

Shoot. He had forgotten to telepathically suggest they were hairpins. Being the center of attention was too dangerous.

“They’re my hairpins.” Everyone seemed to accept that, thank the gods.

“Wow! Can I pull them out and see them?” one classmate reached for his head.

“No.”

Yare yare. He might not survive today.

—

As Saiki was being tortured by the students of 3-E, Korosensei was sitting read The Great Gatsby. Even when he was thoroughly enjoying his book, his nose caught the faint smell of chemicals. Normally this wouldn’t be the biggest issue, but the chemicals were a fuel-oxidizer mixture, they were up in the air, and they were coming closer at a rate too fast to be a plane. Missiles, then. He could smell out the steam of infrared electricity, so they were heat-seeking missiles, specifically. Why would anyone send heat-seeking missiles to him? He didn’t produce that much heat, so the missile would more likely go to actual people like-

The children.

They were aiming for the schoolchildren, to keep him here. Korosensei couldn’t smell it now, but he bet there was also an anti-sensei missile searing through the sky towards him.

How could he solve this? He needed to stop the missiles, firstly. Should he tell the students? No, that would only worry them about problem with an obvious solution.

He flew off from his desk in the classroom. At Mach 20, disabling the missiles would be easier than stopping them physically with his lack of strength. Then he would have to bury them in the ocean, or maybe space. Speeding up to the closest missile, he noticed a Canadian flag design on its side.

“Canada, hmm? It’s always the quiet ones.”

He tried to open up the hatch to the missiles wires, but his tentacles burst as he touched the metal plating.

“Anti-sensei plating.” that made it harder. He could go back and grab his napkin to hold it, but he couldn’t navigate the wire system accurately with such a huge handicap. The only option was to evacuate the students and hopefully get out of the missiles range.

He flew back to the classroom, where a certain psychic was sitting.

Of course, Saiki knew about the missiles. With a quick check using clairvoyance, he counted 3 in total. Heading straight for them at about Mach 15. There was enough explosives to decimate the whole mountain. Korosensei may try and save all his students, but there were only 20 seconds left. He wouldn’t make it.

Korosensei quickly shoved his students out the door of the classroom. He talked quickly as he persuaded them out of the building, but he was too agitated to fully explain the situation. Now there were 15 seconds. The missiles could be seen before Saiki and rest of the students were all outdoors. Everyone immediately realized what KoroSensei had been trying to do, and started to sprint, but no one here was fast enough to escape except Korosensei, and he would not abandon his students. 10 seconds. They seemed to realize the couldn’t outrun their death, so they just stood, motionless, wondering what would happen next. Less than 5 seconds left.

—

Saiki knew he had to do it. They would question it, and ask him why he hadn’t used his powers. But even if he hated confrontation, and talking, and socializing, that wouldn’t matter if they were dead. His rule of not interfering would be broken, but he could make an exception. No matter what excuse he made to himself, he knew he wouldn’t run away.

Two seconds left.

Saiki calmly stepped forwards to the missiles, putting himself in front of all his classmates. His hands stretched out before him. Like they were frozen in time, all three missiles slowed to a stop, five feet away from the students they were to kill.

But that was only a temporary solution. Taking out his limiter, Saiki set the missiles to seven years in the past. Plates of metal materialized to take their place, and fell to the grass. The clattered onto the ground unceremoniously

No one spoke.

“Wow.” Karma was the first to break the silence, “One question. How?”

“I’m uh… not from around here.” Saiki fiddled with his hands too much to be normal. He’d rather get hit by a missile than be asked awkward questions in front of a crowd.

“You’re American??!”

“No, that’s-” Why was everyone so stupid? “A bit farther than that.”

“You’re an alien!!”

“No…(Yare yare) well, close enough.”

“So why?” Nagisa asked. He seemed to have completely recovered from the shock of certain death, and now stood in his usual pose. Not cocky or reserved, but unfazed.

“Why what?”

“Why would you lie?”

“Because then you’d ask me to kill KoroSensei,” This much talking and honesty was getting uncomfortable. He might end up teleporting away from his problems.

“You can?”

Korosensei had gotten over the attempted bombing of his students and his regular smile was now imprinted on his face. “Now now, class, I’m sure he wouldn’t be able to,” he coughed. “So you aren’t remaining to study with our class?”

“No, I have 20 hours left in this universe”

“So you’re staying with us until then.”

“I was going to go and grab some coffee jelly from-”

“Great! We can teach you some assassination moves!”

They started to forcefully drag Saiki up the mountain, back into the classroom.

“So Saiki,” Karma said, in a cheery tone, “Can you fix the moon?”

“Yes, I’m powerful enough to.”

“Will you fix it, please?”

“No.”

#Anonymous #saiki kusuo no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #saiki kusou #saiki k #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #saiki kusuo no sai nan #karma akabane #korosensei #nagisa shiota #saikers art

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the-everlasting-dream · 5 years

Text

What Happens On The Island.. (Mature) - Sonia x MC

Summary: The part about getting shipwrecked on the island, Sonia didn’t tell her boss about.

A/N: Sooo after Chapter 5 of The Heist: Monaco I knew I couldn’t let that escape without doing something for my MC and Sonia. Considering Blaze’s character, this basically wrote itself. Basic scene and dialogue borrowed from canon.

Sonia FC: Valerie Abou Chacra Blaze FC: Toni Mafud

Song: Bad Boys - Zara Larsson

Word Count: 5.8k - its worth it i promise

Warnings: Erotica, 18+ material, lemon or whatever we’ve decided to call it. I’m not responsible if you wanna ignore the warnings.

Tags: @choicessa , @mariamulroney , @drakewalkerwhipped , @thewolvesss , @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @littleblossom-18 , @ooo-barff-ooo , @drakewalker04 , @mkatschoicesblog , @speedyoperarascalparty , @carabeth , @fairydustandsarcasm , @drakewalkerisreal @mrsnazariowrites @androgynousflowerqueen

Cool, calm and collected, as they said. Sonia hated platitudes but not as much as she hated what she termed emotional leakage. She despised the way girls used to — and still did — fawn over the men they were interested in, their innermost feelings written all across their faces for the world to see. She resolved never to be like them Strength and discipline, Hasaan’s voice came back to her. The height of a man's success is gauged by his self-mastery; the depth of his failure by his self-abandonment. The image of her military instructor, a big rough Lebanese man, appearing back in her mind along with memories of countless drills, hours of torturous labour in the hot sticky Amazonian jungle, drilling into her the two principles she would stand by for the rest of her life.

Or rather until the last few hours.

Blaze, the head of the thieving crew her boss Ansel has tasked her with finding and capturing layed on the sand not too far away from her. She’d been holding him at gunpoint in a speedboat routed to take him straight to jail when a massive storm hit, toppling their tiny vessel. She was determined to make it to a nearby island when she say Blaze get overpowered by a huge wave and something in her couldn’t stand to let him drown. After pulling him to shore with her, she’d lit a fire to warm herself and was watching at he groggily came to.

‘Sonia…’ Blaze's expression was shocked for a moment until it morphed into the smirk she was beginning to associate with him. ‘You really wanted to get me alone huh?’

Her mouth opened to protest. If he should have been annoyed or threatened by the image of his rival sitting calmly across from him, he showed no sign of it, and instead his smirk grew wider.

‘I can’t deny the chemistry between us but stranding us on an island is a bit drastic, don’t you think?’

The corners of her mouth jerked up slightly before Sonia realised it and she immediately recovered herself, going back to her default impassive expression. He was not going to shake her. ‘Surely you can’t think this is the time for jokes?’ Blaze accepted her mocking tone with a grin of his own.

‘How can I resist when I’ve got such a captive audience? Anyways wanna tell me how I got here? Last I remember all you’d lost control of the boat.’

Rolling her eyes internally, Sonia went back to poking at the flames of the small fire she’d built in the time that he was unconscious. What had she been thinking? Blaze was her mark, the target her boss had set her on to be eliminated in whatever means necessary. Yet she couldn’t deny the feeling of guilt she’d felt when the huge wall of water had knocked him over the side of the boat, something strange inside her compelled her, she couldn’t just let him die. Why couldn’t she? It would have made her job a helluva lot easier… She savagely jabbed her stick at the fire.

‘Fine. You wanna know what happened? You went over the side like a goddamn idiot and I…’

Fuck what was wrong with her? Again that feeling in her chest tightened as she risked a quick glance up at his curious expression before fixing her gaze at her feet.

‘…I couldn’t just let you drown.’

The genuine surprise in his tone was unmistakable. ‘You saved my life?’

Anger flared up inside Sonia. Hassan had been right. She never had the guts to make the call.

‘I did what I had to. No need to dwell on it.’

For a moment she thought he was going to push her but Blaze had obviously recovered from his initial shock, his trademark smugness returning.

‘Knew you had a soft spot for me. Admit it, we may be on different sides…’ He paused long enough to tempt her to raise her head in his direction and like a fool she fell for it, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes. ‘You kinda like me..'

Again Sonia couldn’t hide her initial smile, attempting to disguise it with a joke and a roll of her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see the effect he had on her. ‘In your dreams. You must be more oxygen deprived than I thought.’

The words were out of her mouth before she knew it and she chastised herself severely. Fraternising with her prisoner was a surefire way to lose her focus and now that they were alone, she needed to be sharper than ever. She had no idea if Blaze would attempt anything but she inwardly steeled herself to be ready for anything.

‘The sooner we get back to the mainland, the better,’ Sonia announced, more for her own benefit. And the sooner I can get my head back in the game. Been here a few hours and this place is already messing with my head.. She looked out at the water surrounding them. ‘My people are looking for us but they won’t know which island we’re on.’

A wet rustling alerted her that Blaze was sifting through his clothes, obviously going for the ear piece she’d found in the pocket of his jeans when she’d searched him earlier.

‘Don’t bother,’ she told him, glad she could find a flaw in his usual cool facade when the device blinked off. ‘I already tried, I was hoping you’d have something useful under that getup of yours…'

Too late Sonia realised her mistake and Blaze’s smug smirk was back as he sat on a log opposite her. ‘You frisked me? While I was unconscious? If I’d known you were that eager, I’d have woken up a lot sooner.’

His blatant remark made her eyebrows shoot up as she unsuccessfully tried to back track.

‘I wasn’t- that is…’ Come on Sonia, get a hold of yourself.

She cleared her throat. ‘I needed to take stock of what resources we had, and make sure you didn’t have any concealed weapons..’ ‘I’m sure you were very thorough.’

She could feel his grin. ‘Found anything… of interest?

She forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘Not in the slightest. If you hadn’t cut me off before I gave Ansel our coordinates, at least my people would know where to start looking.’

Blaze’s eyes hardened a little, reminding her of the differing sides they were on. ‘The way I see it, I bought my crew some time to find us.’

Sonia had to give credit where it was due, drawing random patterns in the sand. ‘That was a smart move, I’ll give you that. If it didn’t piss me off so much I’d actually be impressed.’

‘Oh I’ve got a lot more where that came from.’

The light from the fire flickered in Blaze’s eyes and he held her gaze just long enough to wonder whether he meant anything else by that statement.

‘We should figure out how big this island is, get to the other coast if possible,’ he spoke up re-entering her thoughts to their current situation.

‘Agreed. We should examine our surroundings and see if we can find anything useful. But I don’t need you slowing me down.' With his long legs, that was a very minuscule possibility but Sonia couldn’t resist the jab just to remind him again what sides they were on, hoping to get just as much of a reaction from him as he seemed to have no trouble getting plenty from her. However Blaze seemed infuriatingly unshaken.

‘Don’t worry chief.’ A ghost of a grin played on his lips. ‘I can hold my own.’

That stupid handsome face of his seemed to taunt her, eyebrows raising in just the slightest to see how she would react and another rush of irritation filled Sonia. She had been trained in a hard school but how was he getting past her defences so easily? She may as well have been one of those prattling airheads she despised so much. Before she could embarrass herself any further, Sonia made a split second decision.

‘Fine. But you’d better keep up with me ‘cause I’m not waiting for you.’ With that she stood up and stalked off into the forest, not bothering to look behind her if Blaze was following or not.

As she’d predicted, he had no trouble catching up but she still continued on at the cracking pace she’d set, determined not to show any more weakness. Patches of moonlight filtered through the scraggly canopy providing some visibility through the undergrowth, allowing them to pick throw way through the knots of foliage that covered the ground.

At some point, Sonia glanced up to get her bearings again, everything looking the same in the dim light. In that moment she hadn’t been watching where she put her feet and in her haste her shoe caught on an overgrown tree root, pitching her straight towards the ground. Instinctively she threw her hands out to brace for impact against the dirt but it never came. Instead, strong hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her upright again. She glanced up to see Blaze staring down at her with mild concern in his dark eyes.

‘You okay?’

She nodded, feeling the warmth from his body in such close proximity to hers seep through her still-damp clothes as the faint smell of his cologne reached her nose. They’d just been tossed off a boat and waterlogged, how did he still smell so good?

In that moment Sonia was acutely aware of how blue his eyes were now that she had a proper look at them. She’d never seen such a vivid shade of blue, particularly in someone of his ethnicity so close to her own and she took a moment to silently appreciate that. He allowed her to look, the intense gaze they shared setting off a spark of heat in her lower abdomen. A bat screech ripped through the air breaking her from her trance and suddenly aware that she’d been staring too long, she cleared her throat, stepping decisively out of his hold, her mid section cold from where his hands had been.

‘Thanks.’

‘Well you did save my life. Guess we’re equal now..’

Making the executive decision to ignore the comment, she turned and continued to march through the forest, much more observant of where she put her feet this time, not wanting to have a repeat of that incident.

Or did she?

Sonia shook her head to clear it, blaming it on the island and the obvious oxygen deprivation she’d experience for her lapses in judgement. She still felt the spark of heat in her belly, though it had grown to become a tiny flame and immediately chastised herself once again. She was working in security for one of the most extravagant weddings of the decade and he was the conman attempting to upstage her efforts. She should hate him, turn him in, be abhorred by the kind of person he was to attempt to pull off the very thing she was hoping to avoid.

Yet she couldn’t deny the obvious chemistry she felt between them. He clearly must have felt it too or else he wouldn’t have been teasing her so much right? She shook her head. Maybe that just been so long since she… Under the cover of the trees, her face turned away from Blaze’s Sonia blushed at the realisation of how much time had passed since… Yes it had to be that. Her imagination running away from her, making her concoct things that weren’t there.

Strength and discipline, Sonia. Don’t you forget that. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely registered Blaze’s arm surging forward and her instincts dialled to eleven, ready to execute a perfect right hook when her mind intervened to see he was just holding a branch out of her way so she could avoid getting hit.

‘I don’t need your assistance,’ she snapped haughtily, embarrassed. Hasaan would have been livid at her for be caught dreaming for the second time. Still the polite side of her refused to let this go unnoticed. ‘But thanks..’

Blaze waved a hand in dismissal, making her frown. The last thing she wanted to be was indebted to a glorified burglar. The pause made Sonia stop and consider her bearings. They had reached the edge of the forest now and she could see a path leading to a small beach.

Just how far had they gone?

Sonia turned around to ask him and her eyes immediately widened at the sight she was met with. Blaze had stopped a few paces behind her, arms bent behind his head to grab the collar of his t-shirt. She could not for the life of her tear her gaze away from the way the corded muscles flexed as he pulled the garment over his head, ruffling his dark hair in the process as the moonlight shining through the scraggly trees lit up his athletic figure. Her eyes drifted lower of their own accord and her breath caught in her throat as the sight of his muscled chest, sporting just the right amount of neatly clipped dark hair that ran down his torso, past his still flexed abs before the narrow line disappeared past the hem of his jeans, hung low on his hips.

Of course he was perfect.

Her mouth suddenly seemed dry and she caught herself running her tongue over her lips to wet them, displeased at the amount of emotional leakage she had allowed herself exhibit.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ She snapped, more annoyed at herself than him.

Blaze lifted his tousled head, casting her a quizzical look that somehow still managed to make her lower belly tingle. ‘Taking my shirt off?’

Sonia sighed in irritation. ‘I can see that. Why is that necessary?’

‘I don’t know about you sweetheart but my clothes are sopping wet after you just got us tossed out of our vehicle and stranded on a damn island with no backup. I prefer to return to civilisation without a head cold.'

‘Don’t call me sweetheart,’ she snapped backhandedly, the feeling her own drenched outfit became much more noticeable.

Blaze regarded her for a moment, arms crossed over his bare chest as his eyes gave her a once over. ‘Yeah you’re definitely not sweet. Salty’s more like it.’

‘I am not salty!’

He shrugged his muscled shoulders and she wondering how the action was both annoying and attractive at the same time. ‘Whatever you say, chief.’

Sonia rolled her eyes, understanding that she was clearly not going to win this. When they resumed their pace, she detected a soft clinking from beside her and looked over to see two dog tags hanging from a silver chain around Blaze’s neck, illuminated by the silvery light of the moon. Squinting she could make out Arabic lettering stamped there, her mother tongue she’d never bothered to learn.

‘Didn’t take you for the sentimental type,’ she ventured, tipping her chin at them.

Following her gaze, Blaze immediately folded his arms across his chest to hide the tags from her view, his tone closed when he spoke. ‘Curiosity isn’t a good look on you chief.’

Judging by the total shift in his mood, she’d obviously touched on a sensitive subject and when Sonia opened her mouth to apologise, he cut her off with a pointed finger at a dark shape washed up on the beach. ‘Look.’

‘Our speedboat?’

Stepping closer, her eyes scanned the small object, slightly battered by the storm but in one piece nonetheless. ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me. That means we…'

Blaze grinned back at her widely. 'We’ve found a way off this godforsaken island.’

A matching smile of relief broke out across her own face and in her excitement she grabbed his arm, shaking it in glee. Then her rational mind seemed to kick in and she abruptly dropped his arm when she remembered who he was, who she was and what roles they were playing.

‘This changes nothing,’ she declared, not sure if it was for his benefit or hers.

He shrugged and they both made their way over to the vessel. Climbing in, Sonia began to sift through paraphernalia that had accumulated in the bottom, spying a pair of oars.

‘I don’t mean to kill the mood, but there’s a hole in our boat.’

Blaze's voice rang into her ear much closer than she was have expected and she turned in surprise only to find him right there in her space, the only thing separating them being the side of the hull.

For the second time in god knows how long, Sonia found herself staring up at her “prisoner", her own heart hammering her rib cage at just how close they were. The heat in her belly reignited for renewed vigour, standing so close she could feel his body heat radiating towards her. Her gaze dropped to his lips, inches away from her own, suddenly looking very enticing. If she wanted to, all she had to do was stretch up onto her toes and …. Her conscience tapped her on the shoulder and she forced herself to look away.

‘What have you got in mind?’ Blaze asked.

Definitely not wondering what it’d be like to kiss you.

‘We should fix it… fix the boat…’ She stammered, finding it very hard to concentrate with him shirtless and leaning on the side.

‘They teach you any of that in wilderness survival camp?'

‘Yeah we should… we should check the back, see if there’s anything that could help us there.’

In her haste to put some space between them, Sonia misjudged the height of the boat’s raised interior in comparison to the ground below and her foot caught on the railing when she tried to swing her other leg over, tipping her off balance.

For the second time that night, Sonia found herself plastered across Blaze’s body, her hands planted on his bare chest, feeling the muscles flex as his hands settled comfortably on her waist, their faces inches away. The fire roared up in her belly as his blue gaze drifted down to settle on her lips and she knew he was thinking about kissing her. They stood locked in that position for one long desirous moment before it became too much for her to bear, his touch, his smell, the anticipation of what it would feel like to taste him in her mouth, all male, all for her, in a single tryst that could be their dirty little secret if she so wished. Everything about this went against everything she stood by but she couldn’t deny that every part of her wanted, desire, needed this, more than she could fathom.

Unable to contain her need any longer, Sonia pressed her lips to his in one swift motion and Blaze responded immediately, stroking the fire in her belly to new heights. Her eyes tilted shut and she allowed herself to get lost in the moment and in him. It was everything she’d imagined and more, the taste of him etched itself onto her brain and once she’d tried it, she knew she’d never forget it. Desire flooded through her as he deepened the kiss, hands beginning to explore her body but she couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the sensation of his tongue licking her lower lip, requesting access which she readily gave him.

'This changes nothing.’ She pushed at his chest.

'Who says it does?’ he drawled huskily, reconnecting their lips again as he began to tug at her clothes.

'I’m still gonna be coming after your ass,' Sonia murmured, mouth still pressed against his, word forming around the kisses they exchanged.

Blaze pulled back, mischief glinting in his eyes. 'God I hope so.'

She frowned, he had to know what this was to her. 'I mean it, I’m still working for Ans-'

‘Mmm you talk too much.’

He cut her off with a kiss so passionate, Sonia swore she saw stars. Moaning she drew him in closer, kissing him harder as they began to grind against each other desperately at the side of the boat. She was so wet, she wondered if he could feel it through the layers of their already damp clothes. They parted for another gasp of air and weaving her fingers into his soft hair, she pulled him to her roughly, lips slamming onto each others as they fumbled their way to the flat back of the speedboat.

Up til now she’d had a code. Right was right and wrong was wrong. Black and white, she’d always seen the world like that but now that she was looking into his eyes, Sonia realised there was a bit of grey there too. As her back bumped into the side of the speedboat, Blaze tugged on her long hair, exposing her neck to lick the soft skin there and she took her opportunity to explore his body, hands running over the taut fired in the muscles of his chest, biceps corded tight as he reached down to knead her ass. She’d never been touched like this, been manhandled by someone who had absolutely no doubt in himself whatsoever.

‘What do you want Sonia?’ he growled the words into her skin, sending aftershocks rippling down her body.

Her hips seemed to move with a mind of their own, grinding sloppily where they met his hardening member over the top of their clothes. Wasn’t that enough of an answer for him? Or was he really going to make her say it?

As if in answer to her question, Blaze pulled away, hair dishevelled from where she’d run her hands through it, eyes locked on hers with an intensity that dared her to lie.

‘Tell me what you want.’

Lips still stinging from their ferocious kisses, Sonia swallowed, so choked with need too distracted by the sensation of his fingers playing at the edge of her shirt.

‘Tell me what you want.’ The commanding tone pulled an answer from her.

‘I want you to take me.’

Her voice sounded pathetic even to her own ears but she barely got time to dwell on it before his lips were back on hers, kissing her harder than she’d ever been kissed before. HIs hands, thieves hands, worked at her clothes quicker than her lust-addled mind could follow and she couldn’t help a gasp of surprise when the cool night air caressed her breasts. Blaze took a step back, having stripped down to his boxers now, eyes roaming liberally over her body and she had a strange urge to cover up under his intense gaze.

'I don’t do this very often,’ she told him in a small voice, crossing her arms across her chest protectively.

’Doesn’t bother me,’ he replied, his nonchalance surprising her. ‘You’re a pretty girl, don’t doubt that for a second.’

Strangely comforted by his words, Sonia welcomed him back into her arms, fingers threading into his hair as he leaned down to coax her nipples to full attention, lavishing them with both his hands and tongue until her skin rippled with goosebumps. She couldn’t help a low moan from escaping when he worked at the fastening of her pants, tapping her once to lift her ass so he could pull the damp material off her body.

'Jesus, how longs it been Sonia?’ Blaze asked at the sight of her plain, completely un-sexy cotton panties, running his fingers over the dampening material.

Sonia was glad for a low lighting to hide the blush from her cheeks. She hated how transparent she was to him but the fire inside her far out burned that it threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t let him see how weak she was for him and willed her defensiveness to kick in again.

‘Shut up and get back to it Blaze.'

‘As the lady commands,’ he replied snarkily before returning to that commanding tone. ‘Lie down.’

That position would be putting her at a disadvantage, sprawled out across the back of the boat, far away from anything she could have used as a weapon in case this turned south. One glance back at Blaze told Sonia, that was right where he wanted her. She however complied. Blaze hooked his fingers under the material of her panties, blue eyes never leaving hers as he slowly and deliberately pulled them down her legs. On the way back up, he gave her thighs tiny kitten licks before blowing on her dripping sex lightly. She silently thanked the gods she’d had the sense to go for a wax earlier that week.

Looking her right in the eye, Blaze softly traced the folds of her sex, steadily avoiding her clit. He was teasing her, having his way with her while she was at his mercy. She dug her nails into his arm, silently urging him to go deeper shut her eyes at the contact and he finally moved closer to her soaking lips, centered his tongue at the lowest point of her glistening core. Sonia felt herself inhale sharply as finally his tongue met her lips.

Ever so softly he ran the tip of his tongue up the full length of her tight slit, ending with a flick across the nub of her throbbing clit, eliciting a strangled gasp from her. She felt the tip of his finger apply just slight pressure to her sex just as Blaze's mouth returned to her slit, his tongue probing deep between her lips and licking from bottom to top before he added another finger. She moaned finally feeling the full effect of his mouth on her pussy, every ripple of pleasure unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She reached down with one hand and grabbed at his dark hair to try and hold him there and provide some support for the feelings that rose in her, radiating up from between her legs. He licked her expertly, knowing exactly what to do to urge her body towards her climax while all she could do was grab at her breasts massaging as she continued to moan, arching her back off the boat’s edge.

It could have been hours or just minutes Sonia couldn’t tell all she could focus on was the sensation of Blaze’s fingers working inside her, alternating in a pattern designed perfectly to bring her to the edge. You deserve better, he’d said. Was this better? Her core sure seemed to think so, the heat boiling to an unbearable degree before it finally exploded and her vision swam. Body convulsing, she came with a loud wordless gasp, unable to concentrate on anything other than the electricity cracking through her body.

She was panting like she’d just ran a marathon at full sprint and stared up at him with slightly unfocused eyes.

‘Y-You clearly d-do this a lot,’ her voice was a strangled murmur.

Blaze’s signature smirk curved across his mouth, still wet with her juices. 'Often enough.'

Oh that smirk would be the death of her.

Just one glance at that smile had her ready to go again, so lust driven for him that, she barely recognised herself at this point. Now that she’d had a taste of what he could really do, there was little her principles could do to stop her from pulling him in for another heated kiss, this time enhanced by the flavour of herself mingling on his tongue as it slipped effortlessly into her mouth.

Usually she would have blushed in embarrassment but tonight she just couldn’t get enough of the taste of them together, hands boldly reaching for his underwear, taking a peek at the brand of good measure — Calvin Klein, why am I not surprised…? — when he ground his hardening member into her open palm. Gods he was going to be huge, and this wasn’t even at full size yet and for a moment Sonia hesitated, doubting if she could take all of him without being split in half. Blaze didn’t give her a moment to dwell on this, kissing her so deeply she knew she’d never get the taste of him out of her mouth. That was all she needed, she was ready now and he picked up on it immediately.

He shrugged out of his underwear and his member sprang up against his belly, the veiny ridges illuminated perfectly in the light of the moon. Sonia couldn’t help her mouth from dropping open. However big she’d imagined him to be he was even bigger, definitely the biggest she’d seen ever.

Sonia felt the head of his cock nudge her opening, willing herself to relax as Blaze easily manoeuvred himself into the tight opening, lubricated her juices he continued to slowly push into her, half inch by half inch. Pushed to the very edge from all his teasing and the raw sexual tension that had been building the entire night, Sonia could already feel her orgasm build as soon as he entered her. This slow press into her depths kept the feeling building but only delayed any relief. It was one of the best feelings she decided, amidst the intense pleasure surging through her. At this angle, he filled her to the absolute brim and she couldn’t help watching herself take every inch he gave her before her eyes flicked up to his, watching him watch her face contort in ecastasy. She’d never been filled as totally and completely as she was right then, knowing no one she’d ever been with or would ever be with would measure up either length or width.

With Blaze’s eyes trained on hard, she took his cock, first in slow strokes that rubbed onto the g-spot on the front wall of her pussy then faster, pressing forward, exploring her depths. Finally, Blaze’s hips hit her own, his balls pressed between them and she couldn’t help but writhe, moaning, tightening her walls further to force some movement as he waited, his cock buried inside and filling her. A low growl erupted from his throat, enjoying the feeling as she squeezed his cock tightly then he slowly flexed his ass, his thighs pressing against the softness of her, pushing just slightly further with each small slow thrust keeping his cock fully embedded between. They’d barely started and already she could feel the wave of pleasure begin to come to a crest, the relief she desired was almost here.

'Oooooohhhhh god!' Sonia exclaimed as her orgasm descended on her with no warning and her head spun with euphoria, barely able to keep herself steady. Strong tremors wracked her body as she soaked his cock with her juices, chest panting heavily. Body spent, she looked up at Blaze through half lidded eyes as he slowly pulled out and a flicker of confusion rippled through her. Wasn’t he going to…?

One moment those blue eyes seared into hers and his hands were on her hips, turning her onto her stomach in one smooth motion so abruptly, Sonia heard herself squeak in alarm. This time Blaze wasn’t gentle with burying himself entirely in her and she moaned so loud. His message was clear, she’d had her turn, now it was his. Breasts plastered across the boat’s edge, there was a slight quiver in her arms as she tried to push herself back onto him but ultimately failed, unable to match his incredible stamina. She moaned for him, his name, incoherent sounds, all letting him know she was ready for more and sped up his thrusts, trying to push down and focus the pressure on the front wall of her pussy and g-spot. Both their bodies slick with sweat, slammed together loudly in the night air. The boat began to shift slightly under the force of their fucking, threatening to give out under them and send them sailing out to sea but Sonia dug her toes into the sand, determined not to let anything get in the way of the glorious euphoria coursing through her.

Blaze’s hips hit her ass over and over, plunging himself into her as a hand wrapped itself into her dark hair. Sonia clutched at his strong forearms propping himself on the surface of the boat until the sensation of having him in her finally exploded in an inferno that flashed her vision white hot.

‘Oh Blaaaaaaze- God!! !' She screamed into the night, as his fingers flicked her clit in time with the flames that set her on fire. 'Oh, fuck, oh, oh god, oh god, oh god.’ She moaned loudly, grasped desperately at the boat, one hand above her head the other on the edge as she gasping for air, grinding herself back onto him to get as much out of her orgasm as possible while her legs began to shake uncontrollably.

Blaze’s thrusts began to lose their fluid rhythm, becoming more erratic as he slammed himself into her a few more times before yanking out of her pulsing sex and pumping himself furiously sending thick spurts of cum onto her ass and lower back, with a groan. The contact making her flinch at the contact, still hypersensitive, barely registering as he fell forward onto his arms leaning over her body. She was completely and utterly sated, spent beyond her limit and despite her instincts, the act of keeping her eyes open suddenly seemed too much to execute and Sonia drifted off into a deep sleep. The whirr of a motor boat shook her from the sleep and she glanced up in time to see Blaze stepping into the vessel, welcomed by a man and woman she could not recognise. She glanced down in a panic but found that somehow she was now fully clothed, almost as if nothing had happened. If not for the slight soreness between her legs, she would have been tempted to think she’d dreamt it up.

‘Where do you think you're going?’ She snapped in irritation, making him glance over his shoulder back at her.

‘Away from here…?’

‘But.. but..’ Sonia cursed herself for fumbling, her mistake only bringing that devilish smirk back to Blaze’s face.

‘Sorry sweetheart I had a good time but we’ve both got jobs to do and I intend to do it before your people find me,’ he gestured over his shoulder where another boat was approaching.

‘You can’t just leave!’ She yelled back running after him but their boat was already setting off into sea.

'Relax Chief,’ That devilishly handsome grin of his widened and Blaze had the audacity to wink at her as he sped out of view, calling out across the water. ‘What happens on the island, stays on the island!'

#sonia x mc #THM sonia #THM #the heist: monaco #blaze is up for anything #choices thm #playchoices #choices fandom #choices fanfiction #lemon #30 diamond scene #n*fw

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