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sternbagel · 3 years

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Inspired by the wonderful OC lore that @charlotte-balfours-garden wrote and posted, I decided to finish this piece that’s been sitting in my drafts for months about my own RDR OC, visual references here!

Note: This takes place in canon, Chapter 3, and while everyone calls her Alberta Taylor at this point, it’s not her real name, just something she’s been going by for years because of something in her past. Professionally, she’s a bounty hunter, but has dabbled in other things.

Read This First

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Well, at least the one thing today that hasn’t been surprising is Arthur finding Al has dragged a chair over to his tent to read, one leg propped up on the chest at the end of his cot. Sometimes she’ll set up there to get ample shade from the sun, and according to her, the chest is the perfect foot rest height.

“Afternoon, Arthur,” she greets lazily as she turns the page.

“Miss Taylor. Comfortable?”

“Sure.” She cuts her eyes up at him from under the brim of her hat, seemingly just to give him a greeting glance and smile, but when she spots the shiny new accessory pinned to his vest, her head raises higher. “You steal that off a dead lawman or somethin’?”

And it begins, Arthur thinks with a snort. “No, Dutch—” he waves an arm in the direction he came from, though Dutch has long ago left that area—“got us ingratiated with the local sheriff, so now we’re honorary deputies.”

“Was Sheriff Gray drunk?”

That’s surprising. They only met the sheriff yesterday, and he’s not sure the full story of their encounter has been relayed to the rest of camp, just the orders not to cause any trouble. “How’d you know his name?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that most likely, it was Hosea. Those two are close.

She answers with a cavalier shrug before he can say anything. “I’ve been here before. Once. Didn’t stay long.”

Arthur takes the bait she leaves out. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s Lemoyne. I don’t spend very long here if I can help it. But first time I got to Rhodes lookin’ for bounty posters, Sheriff Gray was puking in the bushes. Somehow he managed to get out that they do all the bounty hunting themselves. No reason to go back.”

“Well, that’s pretty much how I found him when I went lookin’ for Dutch and Bill.”

“Figures,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Not that I really care, but where is Bill? Didn’t see him come back with y’all. Still with the Sheriff, ingratiating himself?” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I didn’t get that impression off him, but I wasn—”

Arthur holds up a hand and shakes his own head with a smirk. “No, no, the Grays around here don’t seem… his type. Matter of fact, I should probably warn Bill to just play it cool—“

“What, drunk, dumb, and ignorant ain’t Bill’s type? What about that guy we saw him chattin’ up at that saloon in Armadillo?”

“That ain’t what I mean,” he snorts.

“I know.” Al flashes a playful smirk. “I’m just messin’.”

“Well, anyway, no, he’s off hidin’ some wagon full o’ moonshine we stole off some bootleggers under the Sheriff’s orders. Hosea’ll know what to do with it.”

“Moonshine?” This seems to pique her interest, again to Arthur’s surprise. “You know who you stole it off of?”

“Yes…” Arthur’s eyebrows knit together. He slowly lumbers over to his table, laying down the deputy badge and watching her carefully. Al’s expression is calm, but it’s a thin enough veneer that he sees the curiosity building by the second. “What’s it to you?”

“Curious.”

“Yeah.”

The book in her lap finally closes. “I used to run with some moonshiners not too long ago.”

“Alberta Taylor. Well, I never took you for a bootlegger.”

She throws an arm over the back of her chair and lets her head fall back, exposing more of her neck. It’s then that Arthur notices she’s not wearing her usual green neckerchief. Or her green jacket. She must be really burning up to be in just her workshirt and jeans. “Not every professional bounty hunter is a staunch upholder of the law, Arthur Morgan,” she says matter-of-factly with a lift of her brow.

“I never said that. Didn’t mean it neither. I mean, look who you fell in with, I know better. I just ain’t seen you drink much moonshine.”

“Sure. Always been more of a beer and tequila woman.”

He plops down on his cot and lights a cigarette. “Then what you doin’ runnin’ with moonshiners?”

“Tell me who you stole the liquor off of first, cowboy.”

Arthur concedes. Al is stubborn. “The Braithwaites. And those fellers that run around here with those yellow bandanas. Sadie and I ran into ‘em a few days ago. Uh—”

“Lemoyne Raiders?” She sneers. “I’d hoped someone had snuffed ‘em out by now. Hijo de putas.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette before answering. “Yeah, that’s them. You’ve had some run-ins with ‘em, huh?”

“Like I said, just the once. Three of them stopped me on my way into Rhodes. Brought ‘em into town, dead, which is when I met Sheriff Gray. They didn’t have any bounties on ‘em, so all I got outta one of his deputies was five dollars. I know they weren’t even worth that much, but he coulda paid me more,” she grumbles. Her light Cuban accent comes out more the lower her voice goes.

“Sounds about right. Least ya got paid somethin’.”

“I guess.” She picks at the spine of her book for a moment. “Wasn’t long after that I met a… moonshiner legend, so to say, through a mutual friend. Though friend seems to be pushing it.”

He gets the sense she’s not fully sour on the “friend,” so his shoulders shake in amusement.

“He was a lot like Uncle, actually.”

“Lord.” Arthur snickers, smoke billowing out of his mouth.

“Yeah. Not as lazy. Probably younger, but who knows.”

“I reckon Uncle ain’t as old as he wants folks to think. Besides just bein’ too lazy, it’s probably why he don’t trim his beard.”

Al laughs, rougher than usual until she coughs and clears it up. “Damn humidity.”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur agrees, leaning forward and propping one elbow up on his knee. “So, this… moonshiner legend.”

“Ever heard the name Maggie Fike?”

The name isn’t familiar, but it isn’t unfamiliar either. “Don’t think so,” he settles on.

“Well, she’s been mostly out this way rather than out where y’all been running around. Revenue Agents caught up to her a couple years back, tried burning her alive. Didn’t work, but gave her a nasty scar and bad eye. Almost puts Marston to shame. Almost,” she adds with a grin as he walks between Arthur and Strauss’ tents.

“Take a look in the mirror, Miss Taylor,” he grumbles back. Then he chucks a cigarette butt at a chuckling Arthur. “You too, Morgan.”

John disappears around the side of the tent as Arthur brushes off the butt. “Cranky cause he ain’t had his midday nap.”

“Pick better material.”

Al chuckles and presses the palm of her hand on her hat, affixing it more securely to her head. “Anyway…”

“Anyway…” Arthur sighs lightly. “You said she survived?”

“Yeah, went into hiding for a while. Somehow got a hold of my ‘friend’, who then asked me for help gettin’ her business back on its feet. Easy work at first. Finding a good location for the shack, gettin’ her some supplies, that stuff.” She waves a hand around. “Most folks don’t pay much mind to a bounty hunter buyin’ supplies in bulk like I was or destroying illegal stills. Sometimes I brought in the other moonshiners to the local town to collect on a bounty. Made for a better cover for what I was really doing.”

“Takin’ out the competition.” Arthur chuckles.

“Exactly. Then came—”

“What the hell are you two talkin’ about anyway?”

Al puts her hand back on her hat before tipping her head back, almost touching the back of the chair, and looks at John, upside down. Arthur leans forward more to get his own look and the rangy outlaw, who’s circled back around to the other side of his wagon.

“And what the hell is that?” John asks. He’s looking directly at the badge on Arthur’s table, disgust etched into his features. As if it’s some rotting, maggot infested carcass Arthur’s using for decoration.

Arthur sighs and briefly explains again.

“So this is just another excuse for you to play dress-up, eh? Guess I need to tell Hosea you’re itchin’ to go scammin’ with him again.”

“You do that, it’ll be your pecker in the stew pot next meal.”

Al’s crossed her arms over her chest and is watching them with barely contained amusement. “Playing dress-up? I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you yet, Arthur.”

“And you won’t,” he growls. “Only reason Hosea takes me on those jobs is because he knows I hate it. Just once I’d like him to take Marston instead.”

“You sure about that?” Al studies John as if she’s a talent agent in the big city. “Doesn’t he like to avoid mayhem on those jobs?”

John snorts indignantly. “Yeah, well, I’d like to see you try and follow Hosea’s lead. I swear even he don’t know what he’s doin’ half the time.”

“But it works.” Her eyebrows raise pointedly.

“But it works,” John concedes.

“Well, next time you go, let me know. I’d love to watch y’all work.”

“Whatever,” John grumbles as he waves her off and saunters away. Apparently he’s given up on butting into their conversation.

“I ain’t pullin’ that type of job with Hosea again. What we had set up in Blackwater, sure, but not...” Arthur wags a finger in the air, then unfurls the rest of his fingers and waves his hand once before letting it fall back in his lap. “Not that. The girls and Trelawny are much better’n me anyway. Safer that way.”

Al shrugs. “I won’t argue that.”

“So, back to what you was sayin’?” Arthur’s not willing to let the moonshiner story drop. It’s not often she lets down her walls and tells stories of her past that don’t directly involve some bounty she’s nabbed. He knows what happened to her family, but that had been a moment he wasn’t meant to see, and neither of them have ever brought it up again.

“So after we get a shack set up, she gets word of where this old buddy of hers is, go rescue him so he can make our moonshine. Not long after that, her nephew’s gettin’ moved from Sisika, so I go rescue him.”

Arthur pulls the cigarette from his lips and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wagon. “Just you against a bunch of lawmen?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Morgan,” she drawls, lolling her head to the side.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be,” he chuckles.

“No, actually, I had a couple friends with me, cashed in on some favors. I’m not stupid or reckless enough to take on an armed prison transport.”

Arthur just shrugs. “Woulda believed you either way.”

“You’re too trusting,” she remarks. There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, but her eyes sparkle with something else.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Well, we bring them back to the shack, get the business up and running. Enact some revenge on a rival of hers in the meantime, I get to kill the agent who tried to burn her. Spent about a year with them. I didn’t do a lot of the actual running of moonshine, one of those friends who helped me break out Maggie’s nephew, Lem, did most of that. I focused on taking out the competition, clearing out Revenue Agent roadblocks when we were sure we couldn’t sneak past them. The real dirty work. But I didn’t mind, kept me moving, out of the government’s crosshairs enough that I could keep killin’ those damn agents.”

Arthur cocks his head curiously. But she isn’t done talking, so he lets her continue, holding onto his question for now.

“Couple months before I ran into y’all, I told them I’d have to leave. I’d spent so much time in this area, couldn’t… Needed to get out and go back out west. See some old friends, see some open country. They reckoned they’d be fine without me, but threw them the name of another friend I knew’d be able to help them, pick up my slack.”

“So… you think they’re still runnin’ that shine?”

“No reason not to. Never heard anything about her being captured. Got a letter from them while I was in Blackwater, actually. They’re doin’ well.” She gives a fond, reminiscent smile. “That friend is working with Maggie now, too. Dunno how she stands him, but…”

“Good. Since we’re over this way, you plannin’ on seein’ ‘em?”

“They’re north, Roanoke Ridge territory. Might, if I feel safe leavin’ you fools by yourself for more than a week.”

Arthur chuckles and shakes his head. “I reckon we can survive without ya for that long.”

“With all the trouble you been causing lately? I don’t think so, Mr. Morgan.” Al fans herself with her book, smirking at Arthur pointedly.

“I actually got another question for ya,” he diverts.

“Shoot.”

“I been thinkin’ about this since you got here, but now, knowin’ how much you seem to hate the Revenue Agents, how come you’re a bounty hunter, takin’ payouts from the government, but runnin’ with a bunch’a outlaws? After a year of runnin’ shine, that is.”

A simple shrug is her reply, and the pause is so long Arthur isn’t sure she’ll actually give him an explanation, until, “You have your code, I have mine.”

“Huh,” he grunts. They watch each other casually for a long moment, then he asks, “You gonna explain?”

He can see her weigh her options, and eventually she relents. “You know…” Her expression immediately tells him what she means: her past, what happened to her.

“Yeah,” he offers quietly.

“Well, nobody’s born a seasoned gunslinger. When I first started bounty hunting, I had to take the easier targets. Most big pay days, or the jobs that are good start for those of us that’re green, they’re people who rob banks with a pen, rich people doing rich people crimes. They’re soft, easy, and all it really takes to catch them is knowing the land better and being tougher than city folk. Which ain’t hard at all. So, until I could stand on my own, those were the only kinds I took. Then I started goin’ after the bastards I really wanted to. People like the Johnson Brothers.”

She nearly spits the name. Arthur feels the sting in her soul.

“I never take those soft bounties anymore,” she continues after a deep breath, seeming more like herself again with every word. “Unless I need a break. But it’s been a while since I have.”

“Been a while since you took a bounty at all.”

She must notice the question in his voice. Not judgement, but question. “No. You’ve been kicking up too much fuss. Wouldn’t be smart for me to be seen around town here more than once or twice.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. While it is mostly true, it’s about all he’s going to get out of her, but he knows the real reason why. Even if she won’t admit it to herself. “Got me there, Al.”

“Not hard to do, Arthur.”

#also we're going with the bill is gay theory. but like. half the gang is gay so she's not making fun of that.#she hates bill. so she's making fun of HIM directly.#hope that comes across lol.#also i hope it's okay to tag you in this!!! I can fix it if not #rdr #alma tejada #my fics #i guess that's gonna be a tag. i mostly just share this shit with friends and post my much bigger projects elsewhere

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chaoslordjoe · 4 years

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Bloodlines AU - Misfire

The following skit you are about to read is based on a roleplay between me and my friend @darksaiyangoku involving my BlackSun offspring, Alex Belladonna. Dialogue has been tweaked to break free of me and others’ usual transcript format.

Blake guided her daughter through a killing house constructed from a spare shack outside her family’s manor. Alex had her flintlock-esque pistol at the ready scanning the room, while Blake had Gambol Shroud aimed at their 6′o clock as they both kept scanning.

All targets eliminated on the 1st and 2nd floors. But the clock was running as the third floor had one room left. With 50 seconds to go, they had to find it.

“Who’s taking which side, mom?” Alex inquired.

“You take the 3 on the left,” Blake answered when they stopped at the door to the target room. “I take the 3 on the right.”

“Got it, got it.” Alex replied with a nod.

Shifting Gambol Shroud into it’s kusarigama form, Blake swung it across the room being careful not to hit Alex or their her own targets. With a viscous shout, she went for the kill.

Alex peaked inside, twirling her flintlock and snapping her fingers. In it spawned an orb of ghost-fire which she quickly bounced off into the door frame and inside. But the fire didn’t burn anything up, instead it was meant to blind targets which thankfully affected neither Huntress present.

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Blake was not impressed by her kid’s stunt. Sun immediately noticed when they came back appearing irritated.

“Okay...Let’s just take some space from each other, girls.” Sun offered.

“Yeah, dad.” Alex sulked, handing Sun her pistol.

Blake sighed. “I’m gonna go see mom for a bit, honey.” She told Sun.

Before Sun could ask if training really sucked that hard, their daughter went straight to her room while Blake headed to the gardens.

Inside the tiny greenhouse, Kali was busy feeding the fish. One of her favorite activities while Ghira was off on diplomatic work. Had to kill time somehow when your spouse is a politician.

Kali greeted Blake who sulked over to the bench.

“Great...” Alex moaned from her bedroom window, shutting it and putting on her cat earbuds booting up one of her RPGs on the computer.

“Hey mom.” Blake said.

“Is everything okay, dear?” Kali asked, seeing Blake shake her head. “Would you like to talk about it?” She then offered.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” The assassin answered. “Training with Alex got a little...Overwhelming.”

“Overwhelming?” The grandmother questioned.

“Well, no. It’s hard to find the right words, but the way Alex is progressing has me concerned. She’s way too comfortable using magic during combat, almost to a fault. It’s lazy and frankly, irresponsible. What if she ends up attacking one of her teammates by mistake? I got lucky, I’m not sure others would.” Blake rambled.

Sun peaked in seeing his wife in her current state of Blake-y-ness. In an attempt to break the tension he offered to check on their little girl after asking if the women needed anything.

Kali replied with some of her son-in-law’s famous banana cream pie. Going to check for leftovers, Sun then turned to Blake. She requested her husband to go fix up some tea. Soon as he left, Kali offered to go talk to Alex later on. To which Blake reassured that she could handle it.

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Last she left off, the teen was fighting a loot boss. The Belladonna scion frowned, tail flicking along with her ears being drooped as she left-clicked away at the boss’ minions thinking about how upset she made her mother.

An hour after a kitchen search for leftover pie and some tea, Sun went up to Alex’s room, knocking on the door to see her in sad sack mode.

“Ale- -”

“SHIT!” Alex exclaimed, slipping out of her chair and dropping her headset on the carpet floor. “Ohh, fuck my life. Need something, dad?” She asked Sun while attempting to ensure her ears weren’t cracked.

“Yeah. How you doing, pumpkin?” Sun cooed.

“Eh. Tell you the truth, I feel like I really screwed things up with mom.” Alex answered.

“How much did you hear?” Sun continued.

“Enough to know that my training is probably on hold.” She bitterly answered.

“You’re not in trouble, honey.” Sun corrected her. “Otherwise you probably wouldn’t be farming this boss here. Also, Fire Resistance affix. Just saying.” He then joked.

“I tried using the best fire gem I got.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m guessing mom wants to talk?” The girl asked.

“Well, you grandmother does.” Sun replied.

Immediately getting the memo, the young sorceress gave her father a thankful kiss on the cheek going downstairs to join Kali in the gardens.

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Seeing that the tea was ready as she poured herself a cup, Kali smiled at her granddaughter who was awkwardly staring at the floor, ears flattened.

“You wanted to see me, granny?” She asked.

“I did. Come here, sweetie.” Kali insisted, patting a seat.

While the matriarch swirled her tea, Alex’s ears seemed to flatten further expecting a scolding. Kali wasn’t always the fun grandparent, after all.

“I think mom’s angry.” The younger cat began.

“She’s not angry. Just concerned.” Kali corrected.

Shaking her head, Alex muttered something. “I can handle my Magic. I’m not- -Granny, I’m using it to- -”

“Can you repeat that?” Kali asked, cupping one of her Human ears.

“I’m using my Magic because I’m not scared of it!” The teen blurted. “Back when mom was feeling worried about if I had dad as my favorite, I overheard her talking about how it felt like she was scared of her own Semblance again!”

Although Kali was stuttered, she still offered a hug. “Oh, honey. Come here.” She said, embracing her.

“I like to show it off because I don’t want you guys to worry so much.” Alex said with her and Kali’s animal ears brushing up. “But- -I don’t know where to start with hiding it.” She admitted when they released.

“I never said anything about hiding it all.” The elder cat said. “I’m proud of having a sorceress for a granddaughter.” She admitted.

What Kali spoke of was the presence of magical beings in this post-Salem world of Remnant. In Ozpin’s ascension to the afterlife so that he could finally be at peace, he had made a deal with the deity brothers to destroy the four Relics, spilling their energies out into Remnant.

This ‘Reliquary Cascade’ had even gone so far as to bring back select magi from the old world before the collapse of the first iteration of Humanity. But in Alex’s case, she received powers of witchcraft from being near a shrine full of dark magics.

The shrine detonated, causing her as a kitten to being stuck in a space between the spiritual and physical planes of existence on Remnant. Now, she primarily uses her powers as a means of crowd control with hexes, circles and lots of ghost-fire.

“I mean, I know the whole ‘secret society’ thing we have going on.” Alex continued, despite not being a member of it. “If I or any other magical kids show off our powers, people freak out. So I like to show it off in your company.” She then confessed with her shoulders slumping.

Showboating was one of Alex’s habits she picked up. Being a prankster like her dad, Sun, she always enjoyed a good joke or display of awesomeness. There were a lot of green fireworks on Menagerie’s day of independence.

“I get it now. We’re not saying to stop, just maybe take a step back for a bit during your training?” Kali suggested. “Your mother wants your physical prowess to be at peak condition. And your powers are wonderful, but it shouldn’t have to be your end-all-be-all style.”

“Right.” The younger cat replied. “I wanna be as badass of a swordswoman as her, if not more. I’m just not a kitten anymore, Gran. I gotta prove it. Was I lost in the moment?” She pondered.

“Maybe a little.” Kali answered with a nod.

“Clock was ticking, so I had to think of something. I don’t even have a good one in mind for blinking to a target.” She said in reference to her ability to teleport a short distance. “Did your Semblance ever scare you?” She then asked.

Kali gave a grim pause.

“...Very much.” She finally answered. “Alex...My Semblance was as dangerous as it came. You’ve heard about the myths of the Berzerks, right? The ones your Aunt Nora told you about?” Kali asked.

“You were one of ‘em.” She plainly guessed.

“Yes, and that was also my Semblance.” Her grandmother answered. Almost like a war flashback. “I was much stronger and faster but at the cost of my sanity. I would lose myself more and more every time I used it.”

“How’d you keep it together?” Alex asked.

“It took plenty of training, combined with intense meditation.” Kali said looking less horrified. “In the end, my Semblance was more focused. My sanity was kept intact and it helped me during battle.” She admitted with another smile.

“Was this before or after you met grandpa?”

“During, actually.” Kali answered, her old smile widening. “You’re not a kitten, Alex. You’re growing up to be a fine magi and Huntress. And we couldn’t be prouder of you for that.” She said, now grinning.

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Finishing her tea and giving her grandmother a quick hug, Alex ran up to Blake’s room to see her less irritated on the bed and relaxing with a book. She tried knocking on the door only to step on a squeaky floorboard.

“I know it’s you, Alex.” Blake spoke without her eyes diverting from the book.

“You got me.” She said, opening the door fully. “I just talked with gran. How are you feeling?” The teen then asked.

Blake still didn’t remove her gaze from the book.

“A little disappointed, I won’t lie.” She scolded. “You’ve got a knack for magic and I won’t forbid you from using it, but you can’t just throw it out there willy-nilly. It’s dangerous.” She then added.

“Yeah, I...I was being a moron about it.” She admitted. “I just wanted to prove that I didn’t fear my own powers. That I coulda used it in a...Clutch moment.” Her ears flattened as she confessed her mistake. “I just wanted to see if we were cool. And if we could try again tomorrow.”

Looking up from her book and sighing, Blake sat up.

“Alex, I understand what you’re feeling and that you don’t fear your powers. That you’ve learned to embrace them.” She said, holding her daughter’s chin up. “But using them too much is another extreme. If you focus too much on your witchcraft while neglecting your other skills, they can falter. You gotta keep in mind how others could be affected if any of your spells backfire.” She concluded.

“I can’t live with the idea of them affecting you, dad, Gran, or anyone else who’s not in my crosshairs hanging over my head. I’m- -Well, I’m sorry.” Alex moped.

And then, Blake embraced her kitten. “I’m sorry too.” She replied.

Their remorseful hug lasted for a minute, with Alex pillowing the side of her head into Blake’s chest with the tension gone.

“What’s tomorrow looking like, then?” She asked.

Blake smiled.

“Another training session.” She answered.

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By the time they reached the third room of the killing house again, there were 20 seconds left. Alex noticed her targets popping up rapidly as if it were Whack-A-Grimm.

“Crap, I can’t make out which is which!” Alex exclaimed.

“Use those sticky bombs I gave you.” Blake insisted, cocking Gambol Shroud and firing.

Alex nodded, using some of her mother’s sticky grenades she borrowed. She chucked both and hit one target. Could’ve hit the second, but the buzzer blared with Blake winning the challenge.

“Argh!” Alex grunted. “Okay, mom. We’re even.” She conceded, inserting a fresh clip into her pistol.

“That wasn’t so bad, Hellcat.” Blake admitted. “Though, this is what you get for neglecting your physical condition.” She teased.

“Yep. Guess I’ll join dad and Yang in the gym next time before this.” The teen snarked.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up a good appetite. You hungry?” ?her mother offered.

“Normally I’d ask about kahuna burgers.” She replied.

“But we’ve got salmon fillets!” Blake beamed.

“Oh fuc- -Er, hell yeah.” Alex caught herself.

“I’ll pretend you almost didn’t swear, young lady.” Blake said with a glare.

“Yes, mother.” She said. “Let’s eat!”

#rwby #rwby au #blacksun #Blake Belladonna #sun wukong #kali belladonna #rwbaby #rwby next gen #rwby future #Alex Belladonna

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aswallowssong · 4 years

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Second Child, Restless Child

Chapter 3 - They Saw Trouble in My Eyes

@valkyrie-5583

Read on AO3

Kit goes on her first case with the BAU and butts heads with everyone's favorite veteran profiler, Reid is a habitual sniffler, and protocol is out the window as always.

“Eleven-year-old Billie Copeland was last seen on the playground at 4:30 yesterday afternoon.”

JJ was walking around the table, handing over case files in manila folders. Each bore the print of the bureau on the front, and Kit blinked in surprise when one landed in front of her.

She knew that she was going to be a part of briefings. She’d been a part of a few during the handful of times she’d been called into the field directly out of the clinic. The times Monty and Ari dreaded but she secretly loved. She just didn't know that she would be a part of a briefing with the BAU team this soon. It was Wednesday. She’d barely started on Monday.

Kit almost missed Hotch speak, and when he did it was clear that he was agitated.

“That's… twenty hours ago. Child abduction response plan says we get notified immediately. What happened?”

“Well, there was reason to believe she was with her father,” JJ said, opening her own file as she stood next to their Unit Chief. Kit mirrored her, opening her own. “Her cell phone shows a call to him around the time of the disappearance.”

“So they've since ruled him out?” Gideon said.

“He called the mother about an hour ago,” JJ clarified.

“That doesn't mean he isn't involved.”

“He's on his way to the family home, so you can talk to him there, but the local police are now considering this a stranger abduction.”

“Twenty hours late,” Morgan said.

Kit’s heart sank. She glanced through the file, listening closely to Gideon and JJ go back and forth. Twenty hours was a long time in an abduction case, she knew that, but it was Reid’s voice that dropped her heart even further into her stomach.

“Long-term stranger abductions of children Billie's age are rare. They represent only half of one percent of all missing cases per year, but they are usually more likely to be fatal.”

Fatal. This little girl could be dead. How are they going to find her?

Of course, Kit had done more research about the BAU in the last few days. Or, at least Monty and Ari had. They dealt with abductions, stalkers, arsonists, you name it. Their specialty, however, was serial killers. To say that had nearly sent Monty into a spiral would have been an understatement.

Kit had come to terms with the fact that she could - would - come face-to-face with killers in her new position. The thought was less than comforting.

“Of the children that are abducted and murdered, 44% die within the first hour. From that point forth, their odds of survival greatly decrease. 75% are gone after 3 hours. Virtually all of them are dead after 24.” Reid finished, looking unhappy with his own assessment.

Hotch spoke immediately after Reid had finished. “Which means we have just under 4 hours to find her.”

“Shall we go?” Gideon said, already turning to walk from the room.

The others moved quickly, standing and taking their files with them. The room cleared, and Kit found herself facing the backlash of the left-over emotions in the room. Uncertainty. Frustration. Anger. Determination. It floated around her and settled in her chest like a weight.

Her hands went to close the file quickly, not wanting to look at Billie Copeland’s face anymore. They would find her. They had to find her. They were good at their jobs, and they had their own specialties.

Billie Copeland would be okay.

“Colghain?”

Kit looked up at the unexpected uttering of her name. Hotch was standing there in the doorway, eyebrows drawn together, looking at her expectantly.

It took her a full three seconds to say, “Sir?”

“The jet’s already on the airstrip.”

She stared at him for a moment, entirely unsure of what he meant.

Yeah, it is. Go get that little girl before something terrible happens to her. You’re worried, so why would you be talking to me?

“Good. The flight to Delaware has to be less than half an hour. You guys should go.”

He looked even more confused by her statement.

“Yes, we should,” he said evenly, nodding once at her file, “You’ll need that. Come on.”

“Sir? I’m confused.”

“We have to drive to the airstrip and we have no time to waste. Pick up the file, Colghain, let’s go.”

Oh. Oh.

“I’m… going with you?”

Hotch’s eyes flashed with understanding as she looked utterly confused.

“Yes. Judging by the report Billie has a broken arm in a cast, and she’s been missing twenty hours. She could be in need of immediate medical attention when she’s found.”

When. Not if. Hotch had said ‘when she’s found.’ Somehow, that was all Kit needed to stand from her seat.

She was going with them, to Delaware, to help with a child abduction. Billie Copeland was counting on them to find her alive, and Kit was going to be a part of that team.

Ó mo Dhia.

-----

They loaded into SUVs that took them to the airstrip. The jet was waiting for them, and Kit didn’t have time to wonder or ask or think about anything before peering into her file and taking it all in.

Just like the medical files she had for the team, she noticed Billie Copeland’s medical information was slipped between the first two pages. She knew that wasn’t typical of case files, which meant that JJ had gotten that specifically for her. This file was meant for her. She wasn’t a last minute addition or an extra file. They had meant for her to come.

Kit closed the file. She’d look at it on the jet, like the others. Still, she only had twenty-six minutes between take-off and landing to read the file and take a moment to center her thoughts.

Or at least that’s what Reid had said. The way he had rattled off statistics in the conference room had hit her once he’d gone at it again on the drive over, and she was both surprised and intimidated by his intelligence. She had also noticed that Reid, while gangly and awkward in social settings like in the break room or the bullpen, was confident when it came to facts and figures. When they had been in the conference room he had rattled off statistics with ease, and now in the car he rambled on and on about Wilmington, child abduction rates, and Billie Copeland. How he’d already read the entire file she had no idea. Kit was a fast reader, so were Monty and Ari, but finishing the file before they were in the car? That had to be impossible.

She also found herself bristling at the fact that while he was book smart, he seemed to have a very low grasp of social intelligence. Hotch and JJ were in the SUV with them on the way over, and she didn’t miss the way they both allowed Reid to keep talking and talking while the annoyance in the air grew.

It was the same on the jet, Reid talking and rambling while everyone seemed to try and tune him out and read their files. The only one not giving off the feeling of annoyance was Gideon. Kit had watched him smile at Reid’s rambling the same way her dad used to smile at Al, her youngest brother, whenever he droned on and on about video games he liked or movies he wanted to see.

Kit had waited for everyone else to sit before she had taken the seat she was in now. She closed her eyes for a moment before digging into the information, file flipping open just like it was in the laps of others. She could feel the fingers of her right hand tapping gently, but rapidly against the fabric of her pants. She kept the file open in her left, but let herself take a breath.

How the hell am I going to do this?

She didn’t want the rest of the team to think she was incompetent. She didn’t want to show them that she didn’t belong. The only ones that had made her feel a bit like the wasn’t an intruder was Hotch, as was his job, and Morgan, who had only seemed to accept her after their accidental run-in at the track. The others had given pleasantries, but she knew how to play that game.

She was a nurse. Pleasantries were her specialty.

Once she’d finished her read through of Billie’s file, she felt confident she could handle anything thrown her way. At least, in terms of Billie’s health. If something had happened to her, there were no medication or preexisting conditions she needed to relay to EMS other than her broken arm, which while it came from a nasty fall, shouldn’t be an issue.

Unless her abductor did something to it .

She had to physically shake her head to stop herself from spiraling into that hole.

No. She’ll be okay. She’ll be okay.

And if you can’t find her? If you find her dead? If you find her and she’s hurt, and you can’t help her? If she dies because of something you’ve done? What then, Dakota? What are you going to do then? What will they think of you? What will Montana and Arizona think? What will you think of yourself?

“Hey, Colghain,” Morgan said, yanking her out of her thoughts.

She looked up to meet his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

His eyes were concerned, and she hadn’t realized a hush had come over the jet. Even Reid was silent.

They were all looking at her. All of them. Kit could physically feel the hot blush flood across her cheeks as her chest tightened even deeper, and before she could stop herself her hand was creeping up to tug on the bottom of one of her braids. She hadn’t even noticed the tenseness of her body until she’d been shaken from her thoughts. She didn’t relax.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? I said your name three ti-”

She cut him off quickly, saying. “I told you Monday, it happens when I read. I’m fine.”

She hadn’t intended for any sort of venom to find it’s way into her words, but it had. Her tone had been just shy of biting, and she knew the look in her eyes had betrayed her usually calm facade. She could almost always keep it even. Keep calm. But between Billie’s abduction, her own spiraling thoughts, and the embarrassment of everyone staring at her, she could only starve off the big feelings with so much efficiency.

Kit blinked hard once before she took a breath, letting all of the tension out of her shoulders.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, “That was rude. I’m fine. Really.”

She was fine. She could be fine.

-----

They loaded into new SUVs the second they landed. The Copelands’ home wasn’t a terribly far drive, and Kit kept herself quiet as the rest of the team bounced around ideas. The urgency was never lost, and no one had made a comment about her outburst as of yet, which she was terribly thankful for.

Keep your emotions in check, Dakota. Calm, nothing else. Keep your head. The big feelings can wait.

“We’re here. I want everyone here at the house but Morgan and I. The family is here, and they’ll need support. I also want them questioned, but keep it covert. The last thing we need is for the Copelands or local law to think we’re hostile or apathetic to their situation.”

“She's been missing twenty-one hours,” Reid said, climbing out of the SUV, ignoring the pointed look he was receiving from Hotch.

Kit didn’t miss it.

“We're gonna go meet with the lead detective at the park where the girl was last seen,” Hotch was saying to Gideon. He was clearly referring to himself and Morgan, who had stayed in the car as requested.

“We need to know everything that's being done,” Gideon said, now completely in control of the situation.

“I'll find out what the press is running, see if I know any of them. We may need to manage what they put out,” JJ said.

“Good,” Gideon offered. He turned to Reid. “See what the uniforms know from the canvasses. Elle and Colghain?”

“Yeah?” Elle asked as she and Kit jogged to quickly catch up with him.

“I need you two to be a liaison with the family.”

“A liaison?” Elle asked.

“In a child abduction, the parents are likely to break down if we aren't careful.”

“Okay.”

“Of course,” Kit added. She knew that. She’d watched it happen once with Monty at the hospital they’d worked in just as they finished their degrees. The mother had a nervous breakdown after her son went missing that landed her in the ER. “You don’t think both of us will be overwhelming?”

Gideon didn’t break stride as his mistrusting voice cut deep. “Isn’t this the only reason you’re here? Bedside manor?”

Kit almost stopped short, but pushed past his bristling tone to keep stride. She knew that Gideon didn’t trust her, maybe the most of anyone, and she figured she deserved that after her outburst on the jet.

She could fix her relationship with Gideon at another time. In that moment, she had to focus on proving his misconception of her wrong.

Bedside manor. What a joke.

Kit sat beside Elle on the Copelands’ horribly ugly couch as they listened to Detective Russet on the news.

“We're looking for a white male in his thirties who drives a late-model green SUV. If anyone has seen anything suspicious, we have a hotline set up at the Wilmington police department. Billie Copeland is an eleven-year-old girl. The last time she was seen, she was in a blue track suit and a blue soccer uniform,” Russel finished just before Mrs. Copeland, Marilyn, turned the television off.

“They've been running that over and over again for the past two hours,” she said as she sniffled. She’d been crying steadily since they’d come into the house. “The press wants to talk to me. I just-I don't think I can face it.”

“That’s understandable,” Kit said gently. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, keeping her eyes soft and voice quiet. “You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.”

“Why don't you just tell us what happened?” Elle said with just as much gentleness, and Kit was pleasantly surprised. Elle had a face that held severity, but she was proving that she could be just as kind as anyone else.

“Um... I was focused on practice, and... Billie was... Being a pain as usual. She was giving me attitude. So I told her to run it off. I sent her away.”

Neither agent said anything as that hung in the air. It took a moment for Elle to speak again.

“How long have you been divorced?”

Wow, okay.

“Um… it's been final for six months, but we haven't lived together for over a year.”

“You seeing anyone?”

Mrs. Copeland laughed humorlessly. “Between work and Billie, when would I have the time?”

Kit understood what Elle was doing now. If there was a man around Billie often, he could be the abductor. She allowed her voice to stay soft and unassuming as she asked, “Not one date? Any men coming over to the house?”

Mrs. Copeland shook her head.

“I- I had a few casual dates after work, but they never came to the house. Billie still hopes that her father and I will get back together.”

“How did Billie's dog die, Mrs. Copeland?”

Kit and Elle both quickly turned to the sound of Gideon’s voice. It wasn’t sharp as it had been when he had addressed Kit outside. It sounded soft and understanding, the way that Kit instructed the nurses during their quarterly training on, well, bedside manor.

“Uh... It was hit by a car two weeks ago,” Mrs. Copeland said, her head tilting as she gave off a wave of confusion. “How did you know that?”

“Shrine in the room,” Gideon said evenly. “Helps her grieve?”

“Her father did that for her.”

“They get along well?”

“Best of friends. She calls him every night, tells him about her day, asks about his. He's a cancer survivor, so he takes time off from work, pulls her out of school for father/daughter field trips. Says we all need to stop and enjoy life. But he forgets that he has responsibilities, that they both do. Which makes me the bad guy. And she blames me for the divorce.”

Mrs. Copeland’s sadness was now coupled with hints of frustration. “Blames me for everything. I should have just let her go with her father.” She wiped at her mouth slightly, her voice wobbling as tears brimmed in her eyes once more. “I'm sorry,” she finished before standing up and walking from the couch.

There was a moment before Kit looked between Elle and Gideon, decision set.

“I’ve got it,” she said quietly. She stood up and followed as Mrs. Copeland walked away from the living room and into the kitchen.

Kit hung outside of the door, shifting her weight, tapping on the side of her leg, anything to get her to wait. She wanted to wait. She wanted to give Mrs. Copeland just a moment alone to either collect herself or fall into hysterics. Kit could deal with either. She had dealt with either more times than she could count. Her time in the ER had been incredibly informative and gave the fastest crash-course in people she could have imagined. She could do hysterics. She could do steely resolve. But she had to wait, if just thirty seconds.

Those thirty seconds proved fruitful. When Kit walked into the kitchen, Mrs. Copeland was getting a glass of water, tears now gone from her eyes. She was overwhelmed, and Kit hadn’t wanted that. She wanted to lessen the burden, and now she could start.

“I want you to know that you don’t have to apologize,” Kit said quietly, pushing her back against the wall of the kitchen. She wanted to give Mrs. Copeland space, but still stay in orbit. “Everyone processes differently, and you don’t have to apologize for the way you do it. Especially if it’s by crying. We understand.”

Mrs. Copeland looked at Kit for a moment before nodding, just slightly. She took a breath and picked up the glass of water she had gone to pour. Kit noted that the mother’s hands were shaking less than before, and her resolve had come back to her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and Kit allowed herself to smile.

“Of course,” she assured. “Anything you need, I’m here. Agent Greenaway too.”

Both women jumped as the front door nearly slammed shut. Kit turned sharply towards the noise, peering along with Mrs. Copeland towards the noise.

“Where’s Marilyn?”

“I have been calling you all night!”

Mr. and Mrs. Copeland had fought as soon as she rounded the corner.

“I'm sorry, Marilyn. I turned my phone off.”

“How could you turn your phone off? What if Billie got sick or- we needed you.”

“I said I was sorry!”

Mrs. Copeland stalked away, but Kit didn’t move to follow her this time, instead staying in her spot by the Copeland’s piano. Her eyes worked over Mr. Copeland for signs of stress, just as she was sure Elle and Gideon were doing.

It was a moment before he addressed the agents. “What's being done to find my daughter?”

“We're assessing that right now,” Elle said calmly.

“She's been missing since yesterday! What the hell have you people been doing since then?!” Mr. Copeland exclaimed, gesturing wildly.

“Where have you been, Mr. Copeland?”

Gideon’s calm was a stark difference to Mr. Copeland’s frantic energy. The older man was sitting relaxed on the couch, not allowing any expression on his face. He held a calm that the Copelands couldn’t.

Bedside manor.

“Me?”

“Where were you all day and all night?”

Mr. Copeland came down to meet Gideon’s level, and Kit noticed that some of the tension ebbed away from him. There was distinctively less anger in the room.

“I have a cabin in Brandywine valley.”

“Police tried you there.”

“Well, maybe I was out at the time.”

“Billie tried your cell phone yesterday afternoon.”

“Well, I shut it off sometimes. I like the solitude.”

“You didn't fight your wife for custody of your daughter. But you...you like being in her life.”

Gideon was starting now, changing their game of verbal tennis. He was starting to move from gentle questions to ones that could give them information. Kit shifted her position, not moving any closer, but opening her stance so she could face Mr. Copeland directly. She needed to see every movement and facial expression if she was going to read him the way she wanted to.

“I want her to grow up in her home with her friends around,” Mr. Copeland said. “This is the only place she's ever lived.”

“So you love her very much.” Gideon assured, though his face showed small hints of accusation.

“Yes,” Mr. Copeland insisted.

“Why do you waste any precious time we have left?”

Kit and Elle exchanged a look. Elle’s eyes seemed to ask, “This could get ugly. Are you ready for that?” which Kit tried to not let offend her. Between Gideon and Mr. Copeland’s combatting emotions of calm and volatile, Mrs. Copeland upset and frustrated in the other room, and Elle’s not-so-secret surveying of Kit’s own emotional state, Kit had no time to feel put-off by Elle’s lack of faith in her. Big feelings could come after, but while Billie was still missing, nothing else mattered.

“You weren't at your cabin,” Gideon was saying. “You weren't at work or with friends. Police didn't call us until a little while ago because they thought your daughter might have been with you. That you might have taken your daughter.” Gideon stood. “Until you can give us a satisfactory accounting of your whereabouts from the time your daughter went missing until-”

Gideon stopped to laugh humorlessly for a moment before continuing. “Would you help me understand why a devoted father who talks to his daughter every night suddenly turns his phone off, disappears for almost twenty-four hours?”

“I was...busy,” was all Mr. Copeland gave.

Kit and Elle exchanged a look again, but this time neither was combative, or searching. Both women held confusion in her eyes.

“It's one thirty,” said Gideon. “You called your wife at eleven thirty, found out Billie was missing.”

“So?” Mr. Copeland asked.

“Well, Brandywine Valley's fifteen minutes away. Where were you, Mr. Copeland?”

“I-”

The feeling of guilt was sharp. Kit was used to that feeling. It radiated in hospitals when someone felt they were to blame, and even in the clinic when cadets had to bring in a friend after a drill-gone-wrong.

It was guilt that Mr. Copeland was giving off. Kit was sure of that, but she was also sure that it wasn’t the guilt of someone who had harmed someone else.

It was the guilt of someone who had bad news.

“I was at Sloane Kettering Hospital in New York City. Dr. Baylan Mahal is the head of Oncology. You can call him if you want.”

Kit let out a breath, her own chest dripping in the same sorrow Mr. Copeland felt. He was sick, again, and she would bet on her life he hadn’t told anyone yet. Now he was being forced to tell federal agents that didn’t know him, and who were, in some ways, accusing him of kidnapping his own daughter.

“I will,” Gideon said evenly. Mr. Copeland scoffed lightly and sat down in one of the living room chairs.

“Had a relapse?” was Gideon’s continuance. As if he had to ask. The answer was all over Mr. Copeland’s emotional output.

“It's in my lymph nodes now,” Mr. Copeland said. “There's nothing more they can-” The silence in the room was palpable as the rest of Mr. Copeland’s sentence hung in the air. “Please find my daughter. Find my daughter.”

For a moment it looked like Gideon was going to offer comfort to the grieving, guilty father in front of him.

Instead, he turned to Kit, locking eyes with her for a moment before he dismissed her from the room, only saying, “Call Sloane Kettering.”

Kit did, and Mr. Copeland’s story was confirmed. He had an alibi, though Kit knew he hadn’t kidnapped Billie. Mr. Copeland loved his daughter, that much was incredibly obvious. And with a diagnosis like his? He wouldn’t want to waste any time he had left with her.

The team found themselves in the Wilmington Police Precinct. They were to give the profile they’d come up with to the officers and detectives working the case, which at that point was everyone they had.

Kit found a spot at the back of the room, perched on a desk, and watched with hawk eyes. She’d never seen them give a profile before, and she was admittedly eager to see the storied BAU in action.

“Billie Copeland has been missing twenty-two hours. It is vital that we locate her in the first twenty-four,” Gidion started.

“The unknown subject in this case is most likely a resident of one of the subdivisions around the park. We have cancelled the amber alert. We need to coordinate with all your officers to pull everyone off the street immediately,” Hotch said, and Kit was amazed by the way his voice didn’t give away any sense of confliction. He was sure of this profile, and he oozed confidence.

“That's crazy,” an officer challenged.

“Just hear me out,” Hotch said.

“But it goes against Carp procedure. You guys wrote the damn thing.” The officer continued.

Reid didn’t let him go any farther before he launched into an explanation.

“Carp is just a guideline for immediate response to child abduction. Believe it or not, we're already late in the game, and we do know enough about this unsub to know that if he feels like we're closing in on him at all, he will kill Billie to avoid detection. If anything, we need to lessen the pressure on him.”

There it was. The confident side of Reid. There was no hint of anxiety or social incompetence in him as he addressed the officers’ confusion or hesitance. He knew exactly what he was talking about, and there was no room for question.

“The man fits in 'cause nobody knows what he is,” Gideon continued evenly. “Can we really know our neighbors? He walks his dog. Does yard work. Solitary activities appeal to him, but if you watch closely, you'll see he pays a little too much attention to the neighborhood kids. Largely goes unnoticed because he isn't perceived as a threat.”

“He's a white male, in his late twenties to thirties,” Hotch picked up. “He has a menial or temporary job. Socially marginalized and frustrated. He relates better to kids than he does to adults.”

He’d made his way into the sea of officers, stopping near where Kit was. He caught her eye, and on instinct she nodded. As they’d been talking she’d been creating an image in her mind, the pieces falling into place. The man who’d taken Billie was out there, and this was his description. It all made sense. It was relieving to feel that way. If she’d felt lost, the spiral of ‘not-good-enough’ would only have tightened. Instead, it loosened, just slightly.

“This is not his first offense against children, but it is his first abduction,” Elle said, pulling her from her thoughts. It was the first time she’d spoken.

“How do you know that?” Detective Russet asked from her position that was relatively close to Kit.

“First-timers hunt closer to home. Experienced predators don't,” Elle explained.

“And,” Hotch added, crossing back to the front of the room. “He's had a recent stressor, a job loss or other setback. Unable to maintain a normal relationship, he'll have extensive pornographic materials in his home and on his computer. And while they won't all involve children, some of them definitely will.”

“Since he used the missing dog ruse and we believe him to be a regular fixture of the neighborhood. It's quite possible that he truly does own or did at one point own a dog named Candy. We recommend cross-checking veterinary records with residents in the neighborhood,” Reid said, sniffling as he did so. His eyebrows had drawn together, and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

Kit raised an eyebrow, suspicion settling into her heart. If she was the betting type, she would think that maybe the sniffler in the office over the last few days that seemed to grate at her skull was the good doctor himself.

Maybe he was just a habitual sniffler. Maybe not. Only time would tell.

“He will not inject himself into this investigation,” Hotch assured, and Kit wished for just one moment that she could keep a train of thought.

She desperately needed some coffee.

“Don't these guys like to know what the cops know?” Detective Russet asked.

“No, not this type of unsub. He's hiding. He doesn't know what anyone saw. He doesn't know if there's any information about him out there. He's unlikely to walk in, ask us... "Can I help you?" But I can guarantee you he will be watching the news. So how we handle them is very important,” Gideon said with conviction. There was no doubt in his voice.

“Check your canvass records,” Hotch said, “One of you may have had contact with him in the early stages.”

“What about registered sex offenders?” Russet offered.

“We've got somebody working on that right now.”

“Ok, ladies and gentlemen, everyone clear on that? Good luck. Thank you,” Gideon said with finality.

There was shuffling after that, everyone starting to move. They had two hours to find Billie, and damn it, they were going to find her alive.

-----

Kit and Elle went with the Copelands back to the house, hoping for a calm environment. Mr. Copeland fiddled with a pill box, annoyance and disbelief dripping off of him as he listened to Elle recount the step the investigation was taking.

“You took the police off the street?”

Elle explained it calmly, saying. “We believe your daughter was abducted by someone in the area and that she's probably still nearby.”

“Then shouldn't you be flooding the area with cops, knocking on doors?”

“It's not that simple,” Kit said gently, trying to deescalate the situation before it could escalate in the first place.

“Yes, it is,” Mr. Copeland shot back quickly.

“You're taking the meds again.” Mrs. Copeland sat down, staring with disbelief.

Mr. Copeland didn’t comment, instead saying, “Look... What exactly are you people doing to help get my daughter back?”

Mrs. Copeland didn’t let it go. “You're sick again, aren't you?”

“We want you to meet with the press…” Elle said before things could escalate.

“Both of you,” Kit added, training her eyes on one of the disheveled parents, and then the other.

Mr. Copeland was not impressed. “Press conference. That's what you have? You just said you're already taking the press that's running off the air.”

“We know,” Kit defended quickly, keeping her tone light. “This will be different.”

“Trust us, Mr. Copeland,” Elle asked.

The doorbell rang, and while Mrs. Copeland said she would answer it, Mr. Copeland stood instead.

“Just tell Marilyn what you need us to do,” he said.

It was quiet again before Mrs. Copeland addressed the two women.

“That was his second remission.”

“I'm sorry,” Elle said, and Kit nodded her agreement. Mrs. Copeland was defeated, and it showed in every way.

“Billie won't even talk to me anymore. How am I gonna tell her that her father's sick again?”

“One thing at a time, Mrs. Copeland. Once we find your daughter, you'll figure it out,” Kit said gently, placing a light hand on Mrs. Copeland’s shoulder.

All three women turned to the sound of Mr. Copeland opening the door and addressing whoever was outside.

“Can I help you?”

“Mr. Copeland, I'm Helen Godfrey from a few blocks away,” Kit heard the woman say. “I have printouts on all the sex offenders in the area. I think if you just... Look at any of these-”

Through the window, Mr. Copeland could be seen taking off towards his truck. Elle groaned quietly, moving towards the door as Kit quickly followed. There was a new tenseness in the air.

“What the hell? Mr. Copeland?” Elle darted out the door, Kit on her heels, “Mr. Copeland!”

The woman who had been at the door called to the agents’ backs as Mr. Copeland backed quickly from the driveway in his truck. “There are sex offenders in the area. I thought he should know.”

Kit and Elle turned quickly towards her, both women barring faces of annoyance that they didn’t even try to mask.

“Stupid.” Kit heard Elle say as she took her phone out.

She hit the speed dial for Hotch, something he’d programmed to her FBI phone on Monday, and made her voice even as the phone stopped ringing.

“Hotchner.”

“Hotch,” she said quickly, “We have a problem.”

“Mr. Jones isn't interested in pressing charges.”

The team, sans Kit, Reid, and Gideon, entered the room where the Copeland’s were being held. Kit was already there, sitting silently as Hotch and JJ tried to unravel the mess Mr. Copeland had made. Attacking a sex offender wasn’t the most horrible thing a person could do, but Mr. Copeland had still committed assault, and it hadn’t even been on the man that had taken Billie. The assurance that Mr. Jones wasn’t going to press charges allowed Kit to let out the breath she hadn’t quite realized she was holding.

Mr. Copeland was clearly not as relieved. “Am I supposed to be grateful? The bastard’s a pedophile.”

“No,” Hotch said seriously, “he isn't.”

“Did you check up on him?” Mr. Copeland came back with, glancing around at the other members of the team. “Did you ever search his house?”

“His sex offense was soliciting a prostitute. It had nothing to do with children,” Morgan assured from the doorway.

“But he's registered on-”

“Mr. Copeland, there are a lot of ways to get on that list. That's why accessing that type of information is supposed to be left up to law enforcement.”

Mr. Copeland ran a hand down his face and started to walk away, but Hotch didn’t stop. “We understand your frustration and your anger, but you're jeopardizing our efforts to save your daughter's life. Every minute spent chasing you is time we're not spending on Billie. So either get control of yourself and follow our directions or stay out of our way.”

There was a moment that Kit worried someone was going to explode. The tense energy in the air between Hotch and Mr. Copeland was palpable, and the rest of the team didn’t have to be empathic to feel what Kit was feeling.

Thankfully Mr. Copeland stayed quiet. Instead it was Mrs. Copeland that asked, “What would you like us to do?”

JJ spoke up for the first time, the women having let Morgan and Hotch address Mr. Copeland.

“Make a public appeal for information regarding a witness driving a dark green SUV.”

“Isn't he supposed to be the suspect?” Came Mr. Copeland’s voice.

“Yes, but when people hear ‘suspect,’ they can't see the guy next door as a monster,” Hotch took back over. “They can't imagine their neighbor could do something like this.”

“If he's a witness, he might be a hero,” Elle added.

Mrs. Copeland wasn’t clearly not convinced.

“Okay, but what if he thinks it's a trick? What if he panics or thinks it's too risky, and then he-”

“It's not just him that you'll be speaking to. It's his neighbors as well,” JJ said.

Mrs. Copeland looked at Kit, who had been silently taking in and noting the emotional output of each individual person in the room. No one felt hostile anymore, at least for the moment. Ms. Copeland looked at her with eyes of desperation.

Kit cleared her throat and nodded in agreement with JJ, Hotch, and Elle.

“People like to see the best in other people. You want to believe your neighbors are good, just like you’d want them to believe the same of you.”

She nodded once, moving her eyes when Morgan spoke.

“We've done everything we can to relieve the pressure on this man. We've taken the cops off the street. You won't have any standing with you on the dais. Only a local minister.”

“Hearing he isn't a suspect might calm him down as well. Right now he's under enormous stress, and we need him to believe, even if it's just for a little while, that we're way off the mark. That we're not close to arresting him,” Hotch assured softly. His voice, and his own frustration, had calmed greatly. Kit tilted her head as she watched him speak.

He is so much softer with her than he is Mr. Copeland. Why is that? Not that I’d ever ask him.

“Are you? Close to arresting him?” Mr. Copeland asked. The smallest wave of hope settled over the room.

“We need the public's help,” Hotch said simply. His voice carried the same calm he had offered Mrs. Copeland, and Kit had to physically stop herself from smiling.

Hotch was a stern man, and he was absolutely a believer in the justice system. If they did everything right, things would work. Mr. Copeland not sticking to the script had clearly annoyed and frustrated him. However, in that moment, he let Mr. Copeland see past that. He genuinely believed what he was saying, and Mr. Copeland needed that reassurance.

The Copelands agreed to the press conference. JJ led them to the front, cameras and reporters everywhere. Kit had left them to stand in the back, and she wasn’t surprised when Hotch took a place next to her, crossing his arms, lips in a hard line.

Kit had no idea how long these cases usually lasted, or what led them to create the profile they had. When she’d heard it all the pieces had made sense, but how they’d gotten there stumped her. She couldn’t understand what would lead a person to kidnap a little girl. Hotch did. Morgan and Reid did. Gideon certainly did, and Elle clearly had a grasp of it, too. Even JJ, who Kit knew was their communications liaison and was very much not a profiler, seemed to understand what was going on before she could. It didn’t bother her, per say, but the competitive pull she’d felt on the track with Morgan was creeping up her neck.

She didn’t let it show. Not like she had on the plane. Kit wasn’t going to lose control again, not in front of these people. Not in front of Hotch. He’d said she was the best for the job, and she was going to prove it.

He looked stern again, and if she wasn’t paying attention, she would have missed the anxious twitch in his jaw. Hotch was worried. Was it the Copelands? The fact that they weren’t as close as they wanted to be to catching Billie? Was it Mr. Copeland continuously flying off the handle?

Kit took a breath before she leaned over to Hotch, looking up and getting on her tiptoes so she could speak as quietly as possible.

“None of these reporters feel hostile to me…” She bit down on her lip, worrying at the end of her braid.

Hotch looked down and raised an eyebrow, glancing back to the crowd of reporters.

“But?” he asked quietly,

Kit swallowed and took a breath before speaking quietly, saying, “But there’s a… terseness. There’s a lot of people in here, so I’m not sure exactly who it is, but someone has something up their sleeve.”

“Who told you?”

“No one, sir. I can feel it. It’s not malicious, but it’s… something. There’s something.”

She lowered back from her toes, not missing the peak of curiosity as Reid glanced over to them. He had his eyebrows pulled together, arms crossed over himself not in the way Hotch had, but in a defensive position. She watched as he sniffled once before turning his eyes back to Mr. and Mrs. Copeland, both now pleading for their daughter.

Kit was waiting for the shoe to drop. Waiting for whoever it was that had the ace up their sleeve.

In the end, it was Hal, the reporter JJ knew from her vague past.

“So the body located by police earlier today is not Billie's?”

“Damn it,” Hotch breathed, staring at Mr. Copeland as his face changed to one of frenetic confusion.

“What?”

The atmosphere in the room had shifted suddenly.

“The female body-” the reporter was fast to continue.

JJ was faster.

“There'll be no more questions. Thank you.” Her words didn’t give away to any disagreement, and Mr. and Mrs. Copeland were led away.

Kit moved without thinking, meeting the grieving and confused parents by the door.

“What body?” Mrs. Copeland said desperately, looking at Kit like she was a lifeline. Fear and grief and desperation were rolling over Kit now, but she kept her face even and her voice calm. There wasn’t word on the body yet. It hadn’t been identified. There was a chance, and Kit was going to cling to that with everything she had.

“Agent Colghain, what are they talking about?”

“Please, Mr. and Mrs. Copeland. Please come with me and someone will answer every question to the best of their ability.”

She could feel Elle and Morgan right on the parents’ heels as she led them from the room.

Damage control is not the control we were going for, but here we are.

She hadn't led them far into the bullpen of the precinct before the desperation turned to anger.

“Is there a body?” rang Mr. Copeland’s voice.

Elle tried to deflect for the both of them, but Kit knew his anger was directed everywhere. “Please just come with me.”

“Tell me right now-” said Mrs. Copeland, “did you find a body?”

“Mrs. Copeland-” Morgan tried.

“Did you find Billie? Is my daughter dead?”

“A body was discovered,” came Hotch’s voice from the doorway, walking swiftly to the rescue. Kit desperately hoped he would give them more, but as it turned out, he didn’t have to.

“It's not Billie.”

The voice belonged to none other than Jason Gideon, and Kit had never been happier to see the man. She didn’t remember a time she’d ever been happy to see him at all.

There’s a first time for everything.

“The body that was found was much older and has been dead a number of days. Looks like maybe a junkie or an overdose.” His voice was even, matching even Hotch, and Kit could see Morgan and Elle physically relax into the news that the eleven year old was, as far as they knew, still alive.

“Are you sure?” Mr. Copeland asked desperately.

“Yes, I saw the body myself. It's not your daughter.”

Mrs. Copeland began to unravel. “My god, I can't- I can't…” She was beginning to cry, and Kit could feel the impending breakdown. She moved to intercept the haggard woman, but Elle beat her to it.

“Please just come with me,” the veteran agent said gently. She led Mrs. Copeland away, and Mr. Copeland followed quickly behind.

Gideon’s frustration was downplayed, but obvious.

“What the hell was that about?”

“A report asked them about the body,” Morgan supplied.

“Probably heard it on the scanner,” Hotch added, letting his tone slip into dejection.

The overall morale of the team was slipping, Kit could feel it, and with it her own. She knew that time was running out. She knew the statistics - Reid had told them to her at least three more times since the case had started. She knew how parents reacted when their child was gone, really gone, and there was no end in sight. She’d witnessed it and felt it with them.

“I should have prepared them for that,” JJ said, and she sounded guilty.

“We don't have anything to tell them yet.” Gideon’s voice sounded like he thought everyone was being dramatic, looking around at them with the eyes of a general watching his soldiers give up the war.

“Billie's running out of time,” Reid said, stating the obvious to them. He sounded almost as desperate as they all felt.

Kit couldn’t stop herself before she said, “So are the parents.” Her eyes met with Gideon's, and she felt the annoyance that came as he locked his eyes with hers. He broke and looked around at the rest of them before turning and moving. His voice came over his shoulder, and the six of them followed in his wake as he said, “Come on. A little hope, huh? We'll make it. We’ll make it.”

Kit found herself back in the office with Elle. They sat with Mrs. and Mr. Copeland while the others went to look through canvas records, or in JJ’s case, keep tabs on the media. Neither parent had spoken, and while Mrs. Copeland cried, Kit let herself become lost in thought. Her fingers were drumming along her pant leg again, which she figured was better than her leg bouncing a million miles a minute. She’d gotten some coffee earlier, but she needed more caffeine.

She let herself drift back to Gideon. Did she annoy him as much as it seemed she did, or was he just projecting because of the frustration of the case?

He probably just hates me. Hotch mentioned it might take them some time, and clearly Gideon is close with Reid, but he didn’t seem to be too close to everyone else. Maybe that’s just how he is.

Or, said the other voice in her head, maybe he sees right through you. You showed them on the plane. You try to be calm, and together, and not let the emotions overwhelm you. But they do. He can probably see it in your eyes, just like Mam and Dad always did.

“Oh, my god. Billie…” Mrs. Copeland’s quiet cries shook her from her thoughts, and Elle’s response beside her left her nodding her head.

“You have to be strong now. You have to.”

“Don’t let yourself think of anything bad. Let yourself hope,” Kit continued, and she saw Elle nod her head in agreement.

The door to the office opened, and it was Gideon that walked in.

“How we doing?” he asked once he sat in a chair facing the Copelands.

“All her life…” Mr. Copeland said, voice breaking. “When my little girl needed help, she came to me. And now, when she needs me most... There's...nothing.”

He stood up quickly, opening the door and walking out. Kit got up to follow, but Gideon shot her a look of warning. He shook his head, standing up himself.

“Stay,” he said, and he walked out the door to follow Mr. Copeland.

Kit could feel the hot blush crawl up her neck, and she tightened her hands into fists before she stood up.

“Kit-” Elle started, but Kit didn’t quite look at her.

“I’ll be right back,” she said calmly.

“But Gideon-”

“I need some water.” Kit turned to face the other two women, and she could feel the apprehension coming off Elle easily. “Do you need anything, Mrs. Copeland?”

The mother shook her head, wiping at her tears, and Kit took that as her cue to slip out the door behind Gideon. She pulled the door shut and easily found Gideon and Mr. Copeland. They were by the water fountain, speaking in hushed tones, and Kit found herself standing and staring at them. If Gideon didn’t trust her, that was fine.

No, it isn’t.

She would get over it. She would prove herself. She wasn’t a profiler, not like they were, but she knew people. Being there for people, handling people, reading people, that was half the reason she was even there.

Being told to stay, like a dog, was certainly not.

-----

“Colghain, let’s go.”

Hotch’s stern voice gave no room for question. Kit was standing by the water fountain now, telling herself just to drink some water. She didn’t need any coffee. At least, not any more than she’d already drank that day.

“Go where, sir?” She asked, though she had already fallen into step with him. Gideon was ahead of them, and she almost let her shoulders sag when she saw that he was pushing the doors open and quickly climbing into the passenger seat of one of their black SUVs.

“Morgan and Reid think they found our unsub, and if that’s true, you need to be with us.”

They might have found Billie. This could be a takedown.

Kit’s hand floated to where her gun was strapped to her belt and nodded quickly. This was the other half of her job. Make sure no one got hurt, check over victims, and if necessary, use her weapon to ensure the safety of her team and, in this case, Billie Copeland.

She climbed into the back seat, lower lip between her teeth and she took a breath. It was times like these she never had to worry about fidgeting, or becoming distracted, or excess energy. Adrenaline ruled the field, and her body was completely still while Hotch drove them to meet Morgan and Reid.

“Third house down on the right. We knocked on the door, but nobody's answering,” Morgan said as soon as they walked up. Reid finished the thought.

“His neighbor said he's definitely in there.”

“He's got a green Ford Explorer in the garage.”

“Break down the door,” Gideon said simply, and Kit could feel her eyebrows pull together as she stood on his right side.

“No,” Detective Russet said, “We don't have probable cause.”

Morgan was having none of it. “He's got a green SUV. He had a dog that died recently. He spends time in the park.”

“He’s pretending he's not home,” Hotch finished.

Russet continued her disagreement. “None of which are illegal. No judge is going to sign a warrant based on that information.”

“You're weighing the life of a child against the price of a door?” Gideon said, appalled, gesturing towards the possibly unsub’s house.

“I'm weighing the law against the price of a door.”

“The girl's in the house right now. The longer we stand here, the longer he has to finish her off.”

“I'll call a judge. If we go in there without a warrant, all that evidence will get thrown-”

Hotch cut Russet off as she dialed on her cell phone. “We're aware of the rules of evidence.”

“What do you propose that we do?” Kit asked seriously, her words directed towards Detective Russet. She had to make sure Russet felt heard and respected, or else the precinct could complain, and it would assuredly be her fault. Not that she agreed with Russet at all.

Her adrenaline was already pumping, just like she could feel from Gideon and the others. Everyone was ready, but Detective Russet was simply continuing to cite protocol.

“We tow his car, we impound it, and we search it-”

“Gideon!” Morgan called.

Kit hadn’t even realized Gideon had left her side and was running across the street towards the unsub’s house. They all followed quickly, Kit glad she wasn’t wearing heels like she’d seen JJ in. The one thing she’d told Monty she wouldn’t compromise were her black sneakers, and she’d never been more happy to disagree with Monty than she was as she ran down the street.

“Gideon, wait a minute! Gideon!” Morgan still called after him.

Kit, Reid, and Morgan had stopped in front of the house. Hotch was right on their heels. Gideon had grabbed a flower pot and was using it to smash the window of the house.

He was frantic. Kit could easily feel the frenetic energy coming off of him over the adrenaline the rest of them were sharing.

“Gideon, you need-”

Morgan stopped yelling as Gideon climbed through the window. There was a moment where no one moved, but then Morgan was yelling and kicking in the front door with practiced ease.

“Federal agents!”

“FBI!” Hotch yelled, and both men entered with their guns drawn.

It would have seemed Kit had done it a million times, not just five or six. She acted on instinct and training as she drew her own gun, position automatic and confident. She turned away from where the men had gone, clearing another part of the house.

She held her gun aloft as she checked the kitchen, calling once she had secured the area. No sign of the unsub.

“Clear!”

The next sound she heard was Gideon yell, and she moved towards the sound without a second thought. She came through the hallway just as Reid did, his own gun in hand, to see Morgan, Hotch, and then Gideon.

Gideon had his gun trained on the forehead of a terrified looking white man in his late twenties to thirties. Just like Hotch had said.

“Where's Billie Copeland?” Gideon was saying.

“Please don't hurt me,” the man stuttered, his panic washing over Kit. It didn’t affect her in the slightest. Her adrenaline ruled now.

“Gideon…” Morgan warned as Gideon cocked his gun, nearly pressing it against the man’s head.

“Please! Please put the gun down,” the man pleaded.

“Gideon!” Morgan tried again.

The unsub came flying towards Morgan, Gideon having thrown him down the hall.

“Get him out of here!” he nearly growled.

Morgan caught him with ease by the back of his shirt, dragging him down the hallway as Gideon called behind him loudly. “Tear the place apart!”

They tore the place apart. There was no sign of Billie. Hotch had moved outside, but Reid, Morgan, and Kit were all searching in what they assumed was the office of Curtis, the unsub. Reid had taken the computer, which Kit was more than okay with. Technology wasn’t something that came incredibly easy to her, and while she could do anything she needed to in the clinic, she wasn’t going to try going through the computer of a child abductor.

Morgan had taken on the task of going through Curtis’s VHS tapes. When she saw the first child she turned away, blocking the image and sound out of her consciousness.

She’d taken on the bookshelf. Her hands trailed along the spines, opening books, looking between them. Anything could be a clue as to where Curtis was holding Billie.

Kit didn’t even realize that Gideon had come in until Reid started speaking.

“Just as we expected, he has an extensive collective of deviant photos and cartoon downloads.”

“Partitioned in separate folders?” Gideon guessed, and Reid hummed in affirmation. “Access the internet history. Identify any pornographic sites, shut 'em down.”

“I'm uploading to Garcia as we speak,” Reid assured.

Kit had continued to work on the books, using her hyperfocus to her benefit. There was a moment of quiet before Gideon came on the other side of the bookshelf, pulling books down onto the floor without caring where they went.

He hadn’t touched the computer, or went to move Morgan’s tapes.

Does he really not trust me to look through these books?

She turned to look at him, eyes probably giving her away. Ari sometimes called them her “little green lasers” when they were directed his way.

He caught her eye, furrowing his brows before looking down and addressing Morgan.

“What is it? Is it all porn?”

“It's a lot of home movies with a bunch of kids in it. This one-you need to see it.”

Kit braced herself for the video when Morgan slid in the tape. Her focus was broken now, and she could block out the horrible sound she heard as the tape started.

It was Curtis’s voice, saying, “Shh. Remember what I'll do if you tell.”

She moved away from the bookshelf without a second though, walking out of the room without a word. Not one of the three men stopped her.

Hotch was outside, staring at the cop car Curtis was sitting in. Kit came alongside him, planting her feet as her hands fell into their normal rhythm. The adrenaline was ebbing now, and the jittering energy was coming back to her.

They stood in silence for a moment before Hotch spoke.

“Did you watch the tapes?”

She nodded lightly, not looking up at him. Hotch didn’t light a fire inside her like Gideon did. She wanted to prove herself to Hotch because he seemed to believe in her, even if just a little bit. She wanted to prove herself to Gideon so he would stop looking at her like she was trouble. Like she was there to get in their way.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Child pornography. His voice is in them, Hotch. He filmed those kids himself.”

Hotch was silent for a moment before he said, “And the computer?”

“Reid said it’s the same. Child pornography. Every bit of it.”

“Walk with me.”

Hotch started for the cop car, and she scurried after him. She was significantly shorter than the rest of the team, and it took her almost two steps for each of his long strides.

Hotch leaned against the cop car, speaking to Curtis through the open window.

“Your tapes, your computer, are full of child pornography.”

Kit hung back a step, watching Hotch talk to him clinically.

She could do clinically.

“Do you guys have a warrant?” Curtis asked, “I didn't see a warrant.”

“You're going to prison. Right now for how long is up to you. It's in your best interest to help us,” Hotch said, not addressing the fact that they very much did not have a warrant.

“I want a lawyer.”

I dtigh diabhail.

Kit knew the law. She’d listened to their older sister Ginny rattle off a million laws and rules when she was preparing to take the Bar. Curtis lawyering up? That was bad for them.

Hotch took it in stride. “Then we won't be able to talk to you anymore. We won't hear your side of the story, and we won't get Billie Copeland back to her parents. Now, you can help us.”

Kit could see what he was doing. If they could appeal to his human side, maybe he would help them. Maybe he would understand.

“You can save her life. You can save their whole family, their whole world,” she said gently, poking a bit around Hotch. She didn’t let her absolute hate for the man in front of her show. She gave him the same gentle look she would a patient. The same soft voice and understanding tone.

He was sick. Just not a sickness she’d ever treated.

“Make it right,” Hotch said.

Curtis was quiet. Tears streamed down his face.

“Can you close the door?” He said finally. He looked straight ahead. “It's cold.”

Hotch slammed the door shut on Curtis and took back off for the front door, Kit right at his heels. She could feel the absolute annoyance Hotch had coursing through his veins, and she couldn't stop herself from feeding into it.

She had really wanted it to work. She had wanted Curtis to choose to be good. To choose compassion. To choose to be a good person, like she truly believed anyone could choose to be.

“Curtis lawyered up,” Hotch said as they came in the door. Detective Russet and Gideon were in the living room.

Russet didn’t even try to show surprise.

“Of course he did.”

“That's the first smart thing he's done,” Gideon said, and annoyingly, Kit couldn’t disagree.

Hotch continued. “We broke into his house, and without Billie, we don't have the exigent circumstances we need to make this stick.”

Kit understood what that meant. They hadn’t had a warrant, after all.

“We may have to let him go,” she said, and she didn’t miss the look in Gideon’s eyes.

“I told you we should have waited,” Russet said.

“Yes, I know. We made a call, and if there are any recriminations, we will take full responsibility-”

“Hotch,” Gideon said, effectively cutting Hotch off. It seemed like he might be smiling. “He's the man.”

“Jason,” Hotch acquiesced, “I agree, but we may have been overly hasty.”

“Hasty?” Russet said, looking between the three agents, “You know as well as I do unless we actually find him in this house, any evidence we find is fruit of the poison tree.”

Kit watched as Gideon leaned forward, eyes fixed on a broom sitting against the wall. He stood up and walked for it, picking it up and touching the bristles.

Gideon pulled something while and thready off of the end of the bristles, eyes transfixed on it before he looked up at Hotch and said quietly, “Insulation.”

He walked quickly down the hall, his eyes scanning the ceiling. Kit, Hotch, and Russet were right behind him, and the grate at the end of the hall caught Kit’s eyes just as Gideon said, “There it is. Hotch, get me up here.”

Hotch grabbed a chair from a nearby room quickly, handing it over to Gideon.

“Here.”

Gideon didn’t waste time getting on the chair, pulling at the tabs on the grate until it opened.

“Up.”

Hotch nodded, not that Gideon could see him. Adrenaline was racing again, and everyone was focused on the hole in the ceiling now.

“Go. Go,” Hotch said.

Gideon did just that, hoisting himself into the ceiling. There was a moment before they heard him from above.

“She's here.”

Kit turned to look at Hotch for a moment before she called up to Gideon.

“Don’t move her!”

“Don’t move her?” Hotch said incredulously.

Kit’s eyes went sharp, she repeated her call.

“Don’t move her, Gideon! Don’t even think about it!”

“I’m bringing her down,” Gideon’s harsh voice came, and Kit turned, her voice loud and leaving no room for discussion.

“Stop! Do not move her, Gideon.”

“Colghain-”

“She could be hurt, Hotch. She’s got a broken arm, and she’s been held nearly twenty four hours by a pedophile. And she’s in the ceiling.” She gestured to the ceiling, and then to the small medical pack strapped to her belt, near her gun holster. “I was given this position to do two things. Emotional control and medical intervention.”

She let her eyes bore into his, giving every bit of conviction she could to her voice. “Get me up there, and let me do my job.”

There was a moment of silent standoff before Hotch’s eyes gave way. He glanced for the ceiling and said, “Jason, don’t move the girl. I’m sending up Colghain.”

“Hotch!”

“Don’t move.”

Kit got up on the chair, allowing Hotch to grab one before he grabbed her by the waist and helped her into the hole in the ceiling. There was no way she would have been able to reach on her own, and she was thankful that Hotch had hoisted her without her having to ask.

When she was safely in the small space, she noted Gideon’s hateful look. Annoyance and frustration came straight for her, but she pushed them to the side of her mind. She had literally no time to feel bad about the way Jason Gideon felt about her. All her focus was on Billie.

“Hi Billie,” she said gently, “my name is Kit. I’m a nurse. I’d love for Jason to be able to take you down from here, but I have to make sure you’re alright to move first. Is that okay?”

Billie had tear tracks down her face, and her mouth was red around the corners. She looked from Gideon to Kit before nodding, and Kit went to work quickly.

“Was there something in your mouth, honey?”

“A shirt. It was really tight,” Billie said quietly.

Kit brushed some of her tears away with her thumb before quickly checking her over.

“You’re being so brave, a leanbh,” she said gently, the Gaelic phrase slipping from her tongue without notice. It was only a few moments before she nodded, giving the little girl a smile.

“Okay, does anything hurt?”

“Not except my mouth.”

“What about your arm? Does it hurt?”

Billie shook her head, then stopped and nodded just slightly.

“A little bit. I broke it last week.”

Kit nodded, moving her elbow to check for range. She spoke quietly, a small smile on her lips.

“My sister broke her arm when we were ten. She had a pink cast just like this.”

Billie smiled, just a bit, and said, “Pink is my favorite.”

“Yeah?” Kit asked, satisfied with her range and ready to let Gideon take her. “That’s Monty’s favorite too. Let’s go see your mam and dad, huh?” she said finally, and Billie nodded.

Kit backed off, allowing Gideon to move into a position to help pick her up.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said to Billie. He handed her a small fluffy ball from his pocket. “I took that for luck. Let's bring it back to where it belongs, ok? Let's go see your mommy and daddy.” He moved her to where the opening in the ceiling was, calling down.

“Hotch! Here she comes. Here you go, sweetie. Watch your arm. Watch your arm.”

Once Billie was placed through the hole safely, Gideon turned on Kit. There was something in the air that she couldn’t place, but she let herself make eye contact with him. He wasn’t going to intimidate her, no matter how much everyone else respected him. He was a great profiler, and it was clear that he cared deeply about their cases, but she wasn’t going to let him stop her from doing her job.

It was quiet for a moment before he said simply.

“It’s in your eyes.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Not all the time. Not with the victims. Not with local law. Hell, not even with the team, most of the time,” he continued.

Kit didn’t move.

“What’s in my eyes, sir?”

Gideon shrugged, full eye contact unwavering.

“There’s trouble in your eyes, Agent Colghain.”

Kit took a moment before she nodded.

She was calm, and collected. Some would have said shy. Gideon saw right through her, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of something deep seeded tugging in her chest. She finally chose to say, “That’s what my dad always said, sir.”

“As a compliment?”

“Are you giving me a compliment?”

A beat.

“No.”

She nodded once and shimmied to the opening in the ceiling. She looked over her shoulder at him quickly before responding honestly just before dropping through the hole.

“He wasn’t either.”

-----

They left the precinct quickly, but not before Mrs. Copeland had nearly crushed them all with hugs, including a very uncomfortable Reid. They’d left on a good note with Detective Russet, and Kit was confident they would not receive a negative review for the bureau to hold over her head.

The sun was down when they got to the jet, and everyone found a seat quickly. Reid, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch had sat at seats with tables between them while Gideon and Elle had taken two couches that faced one another. Kit didn’t want to intrude, so she walked to the back of the jet and settled herself in the corner of the farthest couch. She pulled her red notebook out of her backpack with a pen, having wanted to make some notes about the team for her own records. The more she knew about them, the better she could protect them, after all.

It wasn’t long before they were playing poker, using what Kit guessed were either Goldfish crackers or tiny pretzels as their chips. She didn’t think about the fact that they were all touching and then subsequently eating all the snack pieces, but she did note that Reid had continued to sniffle steadily through their time in Wilmington.

Maybe it was habitual. She made a note of it.

“I got absolutely nothing,” Morgan said in defeat, putting his cards out.

“Aw, nothing,” JJ agreed, putting her own cards down.

Kit suppressed her want to giggle, fiddling her pen and watching them with a grin. With their guards down and a successful case, the BAU team seemed almost human. They were playing and joking, and even Hotch seemed to be more relaxed than she’d seen him in her short time with the BAU.

Reid was looking guilty, but there was a grin on his lips, “Sss… two pair... Of aces,” he said, a playful smirk morphing onto his face.

It was the most human Kit had seen him act, and it was nice to see that he wasn’t just an awkward robot person. The feeling she pulled from him was safety, and that’s how he looked. He felt safe with his team, and with her away from them, not intruding, he was allowed to feel safe.

“Oh, get outta town! Why you always winning? Nuh-uh!” Morgan was laughing as he berated Reid.

“'Cause he cheats,” JJ interjected, and Reid shook his head.

“Poker?” He started to explain, “It's mathematics, it's statistics-”

“He's from Vegas,” Hotch finished.

Morgan laughed, “House rules.”

Reid nodded, looking slightly guilty, “There's that, too.”

They continued to play, restarting and reshuffling. Kit looked on still, reveling in the positive emotions that were filling the jet. There’d been so much frustration and worry over the last half of this day. She couldn’t believe that morning she’d gone into work at Quantico. Or that it was just the day before she and Morgan had accidentally met at the track.

My entire world has changed in a matter of hours.

She couldn’t wait to tell whoever was home when she got there. She’d have to take the metro home, but she didn’t mind. The energy in the room filled her, and she could let herself feel tired when she collapsed into her bed.

“Hey, Hotch,” Gideon said, and Kit had almost forgotten he was there. She wished she’d kept her fantasy.

“Yeah?”

“Did you send flowers to that tech room girl... Garcia… and say they were from me?”

Kit’s eyebrows raised, as did Morgan’s.

Hotch nodded, saying “Yeah,” as if it wasn’t going to confuse everyone in the jet.

“Why?”

Now Kit wasn’t the only one watching. Everyone was listening to Hotch and Gideon’s conversation.

“Jason, people need to know that they're important, and sometimes you forget that.”

His eyes darted, just for a moment, to Kit. They darted back to Gideon just as quickly, and Kit was thankful no one could see the blush spreading up her neck and across her face. The embarrassment she felt was all her own, and she took solace in the fact that her embarrassment, and her conversation with Gideon in the ceiling, was unknown to the others.

“I already sent her a gift,” Gideon said, “An mp3 player. They last longer. Unless you drop them or the battery dies, whichever comes first.”

“So she got two gifts,” Hotch said, sounding a bit strained.

“What if she thinks I'm sweet on her?”

Looks were exchanged between the team, and JJ even glanced at Kit, the two women sharing a smile and a laugh before Gideon shrugged and said, “Maybe not.”

They’d deplaned and gotten back to the BAU quickly, everyone grabbing the things they’d left. Kit snagged her thermos off of her desk, dreading cleaning out any coffee left in the bottom. Hotch told them he’d see them in the morning, and that they could finish their paperwork then. He assured Kit she could do the post-case paperwork and send it up on her break the next day, and that she could do her BAU-liaison paperwork on Friday.

She didn’t complain, and left just after Morgan. Gideon and Reid were still there, and she really didn’t want to be caught by Gideon and watch Reid take his side. Their relationship wasn’t lost on her, and she could tell Reid would take his side in an instant. Not that there were sides to take. Kit wasn’t going to argue with the BAU veteran. She would just prove him wrong.

Kit gripped the strap of her backpack as she stood at the metro stop. Trains came further apart at night, and the next one would take at least five minutes. She wondered if she would get home before Ari left for the clinic, but she wasn’t hopeful. He liked to go early and make sure Monty did her paperwork, which she always did, but that was just Ari. That was how he’d always been, and the girls loved him for it. The truest “type-A first born” of all time, Arizona Colghain.

She passed the time by trying to put her thermos in the side pocket of her backpack without having to take the backpack off, but it took only two minutes for her to drop it down to the pavement.

“An bhfuil tú ag magadh?” She mumbled to herself, desperately not wanting to bend down and pick up her thermos. Before she could, though, it was being thrust at her.

She blinked, reaching out for it and looking up into the eyes of a very tall stranger.

Or, a very tall Spencer Reid.

“Oh,” she said simply. “It’s you.”

Reid shrugged awkwardly, allowing her to take the thermos. He shoved his hands in his pockets, clearly not sure what to do now.

“Thanks,” she added, dread settling. What the hell was she doing on her metro platform? She’d never seen him before, not once, so there was no way he was taking the train.

“What language is that?” He said suddenly, and she blinked at him.

“What?”

“The language. When you dropped the cup, you, ah-” He moved a hand to rub at the back of his neck, sniffling softly. “You, well, you said something and it wasn’t in English.”

Kit looked up at him for a moment before she tilted her head. He was very clearly uncomfortable, and she wanted to make it lessen, but she was guarded. Who knew if he was on recognizance for Gideon or something.

Maybe he’s trying to find cracks. Gideon said my eyes held trouble, what if he’s sending Reid after me to find it?

She also hadn’t realized she’d spoken in the first place, and she was letting him shift more and more as she left his question unanswered. His fingers flicked in front of him before he shoved them back into his pockets, rocking back and forth just so, sniffling again and driving her crazy by doing so.

“I said something?” she decided on.

“Yes.”

“What did I say?”

“An bhfuil tú ag magadh,” he said fluidly. His accent wasn’t horrible, and he’d hit all of the sounds.

Kit couldn’t mask her surprise. “That was really good.”

“Thanks,” he said, shifting on the spot. “What does it mean?”

“I said, ‘are you joking.’ You know, because I dropped my cup.”

Silence settled over them again, and Kit thought for a moment that she was experiencing whiplash. Just hours ago he was clinical and confident. In some ways, she’d thought he sounded cocky, or a little full of his own brain. Now he was socially incompetent?

I could have been wrong. This was my first case, maybe that’s what things look like on a case. We haven’t really interacted outside of the office. Really the only one I’ve seen outside of work hours is Morgan. Maybe -

“Did you know that 48.2% of Americans speak a second language at home? The most commonly spoken languages are Spanish, with 41 million speakers, Chinese with 3.5 million, and Tagalog, the national language of the Philippines, with 1.7 million speakers in the United States. Actually-”

Kit refused to cut him off, mostly because she didn’t cut anyone off. It was rude. But the transition between horribly awkward silence to Reid now going on and on like he had on the jet confused her. Was he social, or not?

She didn’t have to think about it for very long, not that she had a lot more to give. She was feeling more and more exhausted by the minute, and she sighed in relief when the redline rolled to a stop in front of them. Reid stopped talking, hazel eyes watching her green ones as she connected their gaze. She could tell it made him uncomfortable, to be making eye contact, so she didn’t let it last.

“This is my train. See you Friday, I guess.”

She walked onto the train without a second thought, turning and offering an awkward wave over her shoulder. “Thanks again for saving my thermos.”

He gave a small wave as well, walking away from the door of the train.

Kit sighed and sat down in one of the empty seats, shoving her thermos in her bag and placing her head in her hands.

What the hell was that about?

#Brenna writes things #or at least she tries #Second Child Restless Child #SCRC #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #gaelic #OC #female OC #BAU

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zetalial · 4 years

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FMA fanfiction recs!

Hey, so in my recent fma survey, I asked people for FMA fanfiction! And they delivered, yay! Thank you. I decided to make them into a nice list for all to see.

You’re very sweet, Anon but I’m afraid it’s already too late. This ended up quite, quite long. And I’m amazed at how long some of these stories are - if you’re looking for stuff to read, hopefully this list will occupy you for a while, (especially if you check some of the author’s other works).

Most of these I have not read, but hey, they were recced so they’ve got to be good, right? Range of ships and stories from both canons. I’ve included the ships but haven’t included ratings so be warned that some of these may be explicit. (The author will probably indicate it themselves though.)

Full list under cut!

-Fullmetal’s Company by Roseveare | 18434 words | Gen, takes place pre-series. | Ed should have never flashed the silver pocketwatch in a warzone.

-A Wicked Game by Tierfal | 59921 words | RoyEd, Modern!AU | Roy has lucked into the all-expenses-paid vacation of his dreams – all he has to do is convince a bunch of happy couples that he's head-over-heels in love with Ed Elric. What could possibly go wrong?

-Be light from now on by Merel | 2363 words | GreedLing, Modern!AU | “Let’s go inside, sweetheart.” Cat café

-Number 28 by Sevlow | 63347 words | Gen, Parental RoyEd, divergence | As of today, Edward Elric had been missing for four months, two weeks, and five days. Warnings for angst, some gore, and Chimera!Ed.

-In the Gaslight by UnorthodoxCreativity |13542 words | RoyEd | Ed hates military parties. This is no surprise. But when a certain bastard of a colonel takes it into his head to make Ed's night a happier one, well. Ed's not complaining.

-Through the Gate by PreelikesWriting | 3 part series totalling 252736 words | Harry Potter crossover with BH Ed Pre-promised day covering books 5-7 of the HP books. Last part is still incomplete. | Edward is transported to the Wizarding world and must fight his way back home.

-Playing God by the Flamel Cult | 44445 words | Harry Potter crossover | I thought the dull aching was something other than my demise. As it turned out, I was sorely mistaken. Perhaps I should listen to Alphonse more; maybe then there wouldn't be another bloody tragedy that would, inevitably, end it all. For good.

-snipers solve 99% of all problems by silentwalrus | 134066 words | Harry Potter crossover, incomplete post-Promised day | Ed had thought, after the whole Promised Day, homunculus, entire country harvested for alchemical batteries thing, the batshit quotient of his life would have settled down some. He really ought to have topped out the meter with that one. But no. The bullshit is just getting started.“Are you fucking kidding me,” Ed demands. “The wizards?”

-Harry Potter and the Eastern Sage by LiteratureWork | 141609 words | Harry Potter Crossover Brotherhood incomplete | Nicholas Flamel was famous for creating the philosopher's stone, but like Lockhart's smile it was all a lie. Flamel stole a part of the stone and it took Edward 642 years to get it back along with the souls inside of it, one which was his brother. But after traveling to Hogwarts to retrieve it, Dumbledore has other plans for the ancient hero.

-Reversed by Autzulfrost | 162206 words | Harry Potter crossover post 03 anime | At the end of the first anime, Ed is sent back to London. But he's a kid again and through a twist of fate gets involved with the wizarding world. Will the alchemist help save wizarding Britain? Will he find a way to return to his home and true family?

-Stray Hayate by Famousfault | 3436 words| Harry Potter crossover | Hayate had no idea how he had ended up there, but he had no other choice but to accept the situation. Harry at the other hand is not quite as satisfied with it.

-Demon Alchemist by Metisket | Series, 88462 words | Brotherhood divergence covers whole series | Al died in the transmutation. In which Ed becomes Central's local vigilante, thereby becoming Maes's problem. Roy finds something poetic in this.

-No Crueler Punishment by Gomboc123 | 2504 words | Post-promised day humour | Instead of taking away Roy's vision, Truth decides to take something much more precious from Roy, and defaces him in the worst way possible.

-The Bond we Share by DiaHonkers | 23750 words | What if Brotherhood where Ed and Al share a body incomplete | The Fullmetal Alchemist was a weird person. He joined the military at only 12 years old. But the weirder thing about him was that he changed personalities in the blink of an eye. One moment he could be screaming his head off at you and the other he would be profusely apologizing. He would constantly talk to himself, and his commanding officer didn't bat an eye. But what they didn't know that it wasn't just one person. It was two.

-Another Journey by Isil'zha BLZ | 254486 words | Whole series rewrite. | The Elric brothers embark on another journey, but this time it's different than the ones they've been through before. A reimagining of the FMA story that combines elements from both anime to create what is (hopefully) the best of both worlds.

-A boy named Ed by BelloftheSea | 302732 words | Post-canon but Ed is young again without memories of his old life. Incomplete | Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

-Nothing Gold by Rydia Highwind | 23230 words | EdLing Post-canon, AU ending | Ling has gained immortality. Ed has not.

-Unto the Shores of Acheron by LAXgirl | 99904 words | Gen, post 03 AU | Everyone thought Edward was dead. But when someone tries to resurrect him, no one's prepared to deal with the soulless look alike that's created instead, or its hurt and anger when his original half unexpectedly returns from the other side of the Gate.

-Nequitia Est Manus by Azei | 103304 words | Divergence story incomplete | Madame Christmas meets a blonde brat with a fondness for drinking all her whiskey and giving her more headaches than Roy ever did. AU in which Ed fakes his death at the end of episode 26 and uses it as a means to stop Father's plans from the sidelines.

-Beast of a Burden by Shoulderpads | 66416 words | Diverges Pre-canon, BH incomplete | Alternate universe where Ed and Al don't get the chance to try and bring their mom back before they're taken to the labs as subjects for chimera experimentation.

-The Colours of the World by MaiKusakabe | 114228 words | Harry Potter crossover Post Promised day, incomplete | When Roy Mustang went to retrieve his eyesight from Truth, he wasn’t expecting to end up doing a job in exchange. It couldn’t even be an easy job, of course, because Edward’s assessment of Truth was a pretty accurate one.

-Confirmation Bias by Cryogenia | 3327 words | RoyEd vague timeline. | (No summary)

-Phylactery by Shade40 | 250666 words | Post-Promised day AU, incomplete | Six years after the Promised Day, Selim is Homunculus and child. As he studies alchemy, Selim realizes it is possible to resurrect his family. The Homunculi deserve the same second chance that he was given, but while they struggle to embrace their newfound humanity, an unknown player comes with a deal that divides them. Post-FMAB with bits from 2003 series.

-Inhuman Beings by wllw | 3173 words | Mid BH, Pride + Kimblee centric | At the edges of his vision, the shadows followed him.

-The Twelve Days of Disaster by MEOW-I'm-A-Dog | 47932 words | A series of oneshots about Christmas that go from crack to full cocaine. Written on a whim, not to be taken seriously unless you want to. Characters: Breda, Ed, Al, Havoc, Fuery, Hawkeye, Falman, Mustang, Hughes and the occasional Armstrong

-At Gate’s Edge by Winds of Water | 455478 words | RoyEd 03 AU where human transmutation went awry and Ed is a ghost. Incomplete | Love's never easy as it is, but it's twice as hard when you're separated by life and death.

-Grand Arcanum by The-Immortal-Moon | 343781 words | Series AU and roleswap blending 03 and BH. Incomplete | Brothers Edward and Alphonse tragically lose their bodies in a failed attempt at human transmutation. Now, they partner with their childhood friend, Winry, and scour Amestris in search of the Philosopher’s Stone.

-Abandon All Hope, Ye who enter here by Anonymous | 17171 words | Dark! Au from end of 03. Ed being held by Dante. NonCon. | Everything went wrong. Al is gone, Dante has the Stone, and Ed is a prisoner to the fanciful whims of his new captor.

-Love Can Melt the Ice by Winryofresembool | 63640 words | EdWin Modern!Au | Edward Elric, a hockey player from Amestris, participates in his first ever Olympics. The only thing he's planning to get from there is a gold medal. However, when he accidentally bumps into a childhood friend, a talented figure skater Winry Rockbell, he learns there are things bigger than hockey.

-Our Embalmed hearts, our desolate kingdoms by spooky_bee | 155853 words | Neon Genesis Evangelion fusion with FMAB RoyAi | "He leans back, palms connecting with the concrete, and looks up over their city, their desolate kingdom. In the rain, Central City might as well be the ruins of Xerxes, empty and grey, and he and she may as well be the last two people on earth."Or, Love in the Time of Giant Robots

-Talking With Ghosts by em-witchwood | 2801 words | EdRiza, Post FMA 03 | Out of all of them, she was probably the only one that didn’t regret all the things she had never said to him, because she’d said all that she wanted.

-We That Are Young by Stoplight Delight | 277131 words | Pre-canon | It's a well-known fact that innocents make poor soldiers. Fortunately, Riza Hawkeye's childhood was not entirely innocent. She had to grow up fast... though she wasn't the only one. The early years of the Colonel and his First Lieutenant.

-Tempest by Bookwrm389 | 16810 words | Gen, vaguely mid-series Parental RoyEd | Ed is adamant that he doesn't need a father. And it's only when he's about to lose the closest thing he has to one that he understands how very wrong he is.

-Flames of Consequence by EnviousMonster | 67018 words | Gen, Envy lives AU post BH. Incomplete | Where Envy survives and is given a second chance to become something more than they were made to be. Will contain depictions of violence, emotional and mental duress, etc.

-Stock Market Crash by VIKAN | 29301 words | Gen, vaguely canon timeline | Stranded in the middle of the Eastern Desert, Roy Mustang must try to get himself and a concussed Edward across it safely before he completely loses his mind.

-Mendacium by ChaoticClueless | 15558 words | My Hero Academia crossover with BH Ed. Incomplete | Edward didn't want to help Truth. He didn't want to go to a different world to defeat yet another Father. He didn't want to become a vigilante there.He also wanted his brother back. The choice was obvious, even if Truth is a massive asshole.

-Reverti Ad Praeteritum by Batsutousai | 288908 words | EdRoy Timetravel story, BH | Unwillingly forced to serve as a human trial for a crazy alchemist experimenting with time travel, Edward Elric finds himself standing across from Truth in the moment it takes his leg from him. Armed with the knowledge of what's to come and burdened with guilt for the choices he'd made as an adult, Ed sets out to fix every mistake he ever made and save every life they ever lost, no matter what it takes.

-Best Kept Secret by MoonStarDutchess | 523815 words | RoyAi BH canon-compliant incomplete | What if Roy and Riza were secretly married through the entire series? This story tells you that.

-Ash Like Snow by Laora | 6723 words | Harry Potter Crossover | His sanity is crumbling away, but then, so is the entire wizarding world.

-Penance by Laora | 125965 words | Harry Potter Crossover around Promised Day | The Gate was opening; the black arms stretched toward him and Pride. Ed knew he had no say in the matter. He would be pulled to this parallel dimension, alternate universe—whatever it was—and Amestris would be left to die. Truth merely grinned.

-Jiǔ by agentcalliope | 3131 words | Roy-centric piece, RoyAi | the nine steps Roy Mustang takes towards acceptance

-Homefront by hlwim | 50895 words | BH AU, some RoyAi | Miss Riza's arrival in Resembool has the potential to ruin everything.

-Infernia by mitsys | 3899 words | Royai, Pacific Rim AU | Some stories aren't told in headlines or newspapers, but in the touch of hands and minds. They linger together in the Drift, lines melting together into the seams, and they don't mourn the lost letters. They've been writing their story long enough to do it without words.

-Wooden by tobu_ishi | 1928 words | Gen, Post 03 anime, Ed in other world | He never realized how useful automail could be until he was an entire world away from it, or what a pain simple daily tasks could become.

-Mirrorworld by Tramontana Keeper | 305134 words | EdHei, Pre-CoS AU | Ed managed to prove that he was truly from a different world, and Alfons finds himself captive in Ed's dream of opening the Gate.

-Fragile Worlds by The Prettiest Frog in the Pond | 5635 words | Gen, 03 anime AU | He'd been stuck in this place for months now, but no matter what he says, nothing changes. He's Edward Elric. He's been Edward Elric all his life. So why won't they believe him?

-One Foot in by Firewind | 7008 words | Gen, 03 anime AU | Envy shows Ed why it's unwise to break a deal with homunculi.

-The Circle by Elfpen | 3007 words | Gen, promised day | Edward Elric teaches alchemy at Central University. A particularly horrible student leads them down a path of dark discussion, which somehow, leads Edward back full circle.

-Ignis Fatuus by Mikkeneko | 5787 words | Gen. | Edward attempts to break apart a chimera made from an animal and a child.

-Abstention by Asidian | 11117 words | Vague timeline | An assignment to snow country under Colonel Mustang is bad enough for the damper it puts on the Elrics' search for the Stone, but downed supply lines lead to cut rations, and Ed discovers that he can't take the deprivation as well as he'd like to pretend.

-Never break the chain by haganenobeato | 4199 words | RoyAi BH, vague timeline | The nights were not kind to Riza Hawkeye. Sleep felt elusive following the failed operative to capture a homunculus after Gluttony swallowed the Colonel whole with Edward alongside him. Before she could gather her bearings and make sense of what was happening, Mustang’s men were transferred at different cardinal points in Amestris with herself at the center as Bradley’s assistant.As for him… he had been changed.

-Men and Angels by Laora | 56333 words | Timetravel AU | Trisha can't understand; she's terrified, but she has to stay calm. Her boys are gone, replaced by her sons from the future...and something, she knows, is terribly wrong.

-The Really Ridiculously Good Looking Summer Festival by VerboseWordsmith | 45594 words | Modern!Band!AU RoyEd | Quasi-indie newcomers, Fullmetal Alchemist, just hit number one with their second single on the Amestris Hot 100 Rock chart and they've been added to the lineup of this summer's Transmuted Tour.

-To Love is to Sacrifice by Konfessor2U | 6372 words | Edvy, BH | Edward is held captive as a human sacrifice and Envy is set to watch over him.

-Not in His Job Description by alightintheshadows | 1331 words | Gen, BH Post-promised day, Parental Roy | General Mustang receives visitor much too early on a Sunday morning, but he doesn't mind in the slightest.

-Aftermath by Asidian | 32148 words | Elricest, vaguely post-series | Not even a year after Al receives his new body, Ed requests a mission that will take him far from his brother's side. When things go terribly wrong, they must pick up the pieces together.

-Ignis Aurum Probat by writing_addict | 34827 words | How to train your dragon AU, FMAB, incomplete | Edward Elric is born early into the dead of winter, on an island twelve days North of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing-To-Death. He comes into the world sickly and small--and endlessly defiant, burning with the kind of rage that can shake the foundations of the universe. The gods themselves hear that scream, that roar of fury and thunder promising to remake the world as they know it, and wonder. Fifteen years later, Ed brings down the Night Fury that's been plaguing his people for generations, stands over it with the perfect opportunity to make the kill...and spares it.

-Satellite by SpicyReyes | 103170 words | EdRoy, Timetravel, BH incomplete | A rogue alchemist, desperate to restore the alchemy of the famous Fullmetal Alchemist, pushes Truth into playing a new game - one that has Edward Elric waking up on the floor of his house where a transmuted abomination should have been, just in time to save his younger self and brother. He might have a chance to do everything again, now, though...He would never hold anything but bitterness for the title of 'dad,' but maybe an older brother could make things better.

-With Eyes Anew by Rider_of_Spades | 500 words | LustScar FMA 03 | "She’s not your second chance– she’s your first." On the implications of being in love with a Homunculus.

-Son of the Desert by ShanaStoryteller | 10445 words | Ishvalan!Ed AU, BH EdRoy | Every time Edward sees the circle on the back Mustang's hand, he wants to scream, wants to reach across the desk and shake him, wants to wrap his hands around the older man's throat and ask if it was worth it, if this desk and his rank is worth the screaming, crying, writhing, burning bodies of his people-

-Tears and Rain by BeautifulFiction_FMA | 196772 words | RoyEd FMA 03 vague timeline | When Ed stops an assassination attempt on Roy's life, he foils one of the opening moves in a massive military intrigue. Can he and Roy stay one step ahead of those who want them dead, or will they both lose the fight to survive?

-The Lost Language of Swans by Mirabella | 2258 words | Elricest, Wingfic Post-series | They smuggled Al out of Central and back to Rizembul, where they rented a small house with room for Ed's books and Al's wings.

-For the night has been unkind by CoolJellyBean25 | 159980 words | RoyEd PostBH AU, Incomplete | Even with the straitjacket off, Ed never feels like it's really gone.

-conflicted by the very air i breathe by writing_addict | 149707 words | some RoyAi, BH AU, incomplete | Edward Elric vanishes after what was supposed to be an ordinary mission. A year later, Roy Mustang gets a call that changes everything.

-World without Roy by Manalfedz | 41482 words | Gen, BH AU, incomplete | Wherein...Roy tries not to freak out in an alternate world where everything has gone horribly wrong.

-A sudden alchemy by LadyMerlin | 5388 words | RoyEd Modern!Au | The one in which Roy is a Knight in Shining Armour

-A Pyramid Scheme by PhantomRose96 | 1662 words | Gen, immediately Post!BH | “Why didn’t you run?” “Sorry?” “Why didn’t you run away, Fullmetal?”

-From Ashes by JordannaMorgan | 22864 words | Gen, canon-compliant set right after the human transmutation attempt. | Edward and Alphonse had a long journey to make before they ever left home.

-Babylon by BeautifulFiction_FMA | 261096 words | RoyEd, post FMA 03 AU | Two years after retrieving his brother's body from the Gate of Truth Edward Elric is still paying the price. Will his debt ever be repaid, or will it finally cost him everything?

-Havoc’s Foolproof Plan by 1stTimeCaller | 9187 words | vague timeline, some RoyAi shiptease. | Havoc's love life is constantly interrupted by his womanizing boss. So he decides to try it on with the one woman who is immune to Mustang's charm.

-The Ordeal of Being Known by budgeWrites | 20254 words | FMA 03 AU LustScar Lust and Scar both live, Incomplete | On conquering demons, remembering how to live, and coming home.

-Focus by Sevlow | 37665 words | Gen, vague timeline | Mustang, Edward, and all the other Alchemists of fair Amestris are starting to lose their grip on their own minds and bodies. The Amestrian military is in chaos as dozens of its higher-ranking officers start losing their minds to an unknown sickness.

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #fma 03 #fmab #fma 2003 #fma fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic recs #wow there's a lot here #you guys recced so many!#thanks so much!#there's all sort of ships here #I've made a point to mark them out

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captainmeowvelwrites · 4 years

Text

You Times Two (Ch.9)

Pairing: Marinette/Ladybug | Adrien/Chat Noir Words: 4345 Summary: Ladybug knew this was necessary. She was the Guardian. He had the Cat Miraculous. But when his suit evaporated in a glow of pale green, she sure hadn’t expected him to have something far more precious: her heart. Cross-posted: AO3 and FFN

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | ...

Recap: Previously, on You Times Two… Maribug was a bit of a depresso espresso, what with the impending Adrigami date and fifth wheeling her friends. That is, until our favourite dude cheered her up with pizza, turtle talk and some good ol’ Mario Kart. Of course, her kitty-cat’s banana puns might’ve helped a smidge. But will dustings of Adrigami continue to throw her off? And when Chilluka rocks up, will Jealadrien be far behind?

---

Chapter Nine

An hour after Adrien's slippery ascent to victory, they turned to Ultimate Mecha Strike III for some more hearty butt-whooping.

With one final zap of an energy beam, the words "KAGAMI WINS" flashed across the screen, and her crimson mecha-tank launched a clawed fist in the air.

"Aw maaan!" Nino dumped his controller on the coffee table. "How could I lose to a total noob?" He froze. "Uh – No offence! You did good, dudette – I mean Kagami!"

Alya clutched her stomach, her cheeks red from laughing. "Nice one, Kagami! You – You really got him good with that – ah – that triple kick hyperstorm combo!"

"Yeah, Kagami!" Adrien nudged her shoulder with his own. "Only your third game and already you're winning!"

Marinette gave a thumbs up. "You're a natural."

Kagami threaded a strand of hair behind her ear, the slightest of blushes grazing her cheeks. "Thank you, everyone. I couldn't have won without Marinette's expert teaching." She bowed her head, her mouth curving into a smile that simply looked like it belonged there.

That small fact made Marinette's own smile double in size.

"But, dudes, I'm sick of UMS."

Alya tapped down the brim of Nino's precious cap. "You're just sick of losing, babe."

Pouting, he straightened his hat. "That's not the point, Al." He bounced to his feet, eyes on Adrien. "Why don't we fire up Just Dance instead? Let's show 'em our swagger!"

Adrien's face practically glowed as he leapt from the sofa, Kagami's hands falling from his arm to her lap. "You're on, Nino!"

"Ha!" Nino flashed his signature finger guns. "On like Donkey Kong!"

With an overly dramatic scoff, Adrien placed a hand to his chest in a decidedly Chat Noir fashion. "Excuse me? Only I have the rights to that line… especially after my ape overthrew our princess." He sent Marinette an over the shoulder wink and naturally, a flush flamed across her face.

While Nino set up Just Dance, Adrien shrugged out of his blazer in one fluid movement and flicked it over the sofa with a ridiculous amount of flair. He rolled his neck, laced his fingers and stretched his arms out before him. Pair that with the fact his polished shoes, snug jeans, and long-sleeved dress shirt were all black and wow, he was but a tail away from his alter ego. The only thing missing was a poorly timed pun. The flush across her face deepened.

Adrien strutted up to the TV. Umber drapes framed the wide balcony doors to his left, swaying with the wind that weaved through the living room to fan his golden hair. With his eyes on the screen, he raised a thoughtful hand to his chin. His fingers were soaked in sunlight, its rays catching his ring at just the right angle to inspire a shine of silver. Buzzfeed had once dubbed this particular pose The Pondering Prince. It was easy to see why on a rainy day. And even easier when sunbeams spilled across his hair like a literal crown of sunshine.

Marinette wasn't staring.

Nope, not at all.

The choruses of classic pop songs cut through the air as Nino cycled through choreographies. She knew the moment a song stood out to Adrien, by the way The Pondering Prince transformed into The Keen Cutie.

An annoyingly catchy melody sprung through the speakers:

'Take me by the tongue and I'll know you. Uh! Kiss me 'til you're drunk and I'll show you—'

The boys exchanged an eager high five, while Marinette bit back a snort. Chat Noir choosing Moves Like Jagger?

"Only you would, Adrien. Silly ca—" Her mouth snapped shut, but his merry eyes were already on her. She went ramrod straight in her seat. "Ca – Can't be used to describe you row—I mean now – no, right now." She shook her head madly. "Or – uh – any time, really. Because you're so great. At moving. With your feet!"

Adrien stared at her. She could almost see the cogwheels turning in his eyes. Hopefully those cogwheels had nothing to do with her slip up and everything to do with interpreting her word vomit. Finally, he graced her with one of his classic, heart-warming smiles. "Thank you, Marinette!"

She threw two thumbs up. "Well done! I mean, welcome!"

To her right, she could just feel concerned eyes on her.

And to her left, Alya facepalmed.

Adrien's soft smile lingered on Marinette for a moment longer, before a "Ready, bro?" brought his attention back to the TV. She sucked in a breath.

That smile. That classic Adrien smile. It was a gentle, shy sort of smile. One that made you feel special. Chat Noir's smile, on the other hand, was silly, cheeky, at times flirty—and had prompted her to groan on several occasions. Totally different, right?

But they were the same person! As classmates, she could probably count the amount of coherent conversations she'd had with him on her hands. But as partners, they were closer than ever. She'd thought of him as one of her dearest friends long before learning his civilian identity. Now, an unpleasant question reared its awful head. Were his smiles wildly different? Or just her reactions to them?

Alya's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Daaang!" she called, flaunting a smirk. "You boys are pulling out all the stops today. Where've you been hiding those dance moves, Adrien?"

Marinette looked up at the boy in question and saw her friend, Adrien, dancing with the unbridled joy of her partner, Chat Noir.

And Alya's words must've emboldened him, for he broke away from the choreography with a suave spin on the spot. "Come on, Al. You don't actually think I spent home-school doing schoolwork, do you?" As Maroon 5 whistled on, he executed each move with a flawless flourish. To think, this was the same guy who high-fived street signs with his face.

Alya snickered. "Not bad, Blondie. Not bad at all!"

With an achingly familiar bow, he enacted the tipping of a fake top hat. A silent thank you. One with the pizzazz befitting of her partner.

His theatrics brought out a giggle. She'd seen her silly kitty cut a rug, as he liked to call it, more times than she cared to count. On quiet patrols. In the heat of battle. A few months ago, an amateur video of his dancing had even trended online (he'd reminded her for over a week). His timing was never impeccable, but as they'd grown closer, stifling a smile at his zest for interpretive movement had become increasingly tricky.

"Yes!" Nino wheezed, flinging his arm in time with the dancing avatar on the screen. "I'm catching up!" He was so out of breath. "Keep distracting him!"

"Oh Adrien," her bestie proclaimed, as he moonwalked like a professional zombie from Thriller. "Our dazzling King of Swag!" He held a hand to his ear, spurring her on. "Your flow knows no bounds. I must bow before such unrivalled finesse." True to her word, she bowed in her seat.

And boy, did he lap up the praise! He performed a ridiculously smooth body roll, and concluded it with a click of his fingers. His smile was nearly blinding.

That was all the motivation Marinette needed to pop in her own compliment. "In the not so distant future, bards shall sing of our swagtabulous leader's epic freestyling, and their song shall aptly be named Moves Like Swagdrien!"

Just when she'd thought he couldn't shine any brighter, a laugh burst from his lips. It was one she seldom heard without his mask and the fact she'd brought it out only swelled her sprinting heartbeat.

His next move involved a little hip swaying and a lot of arm swinging. Marinette had only played Fortnite a handful of times, but she had a sneaking suspicion she'd once witnessed it there.

"Keep going, ladies!" Nino implored. "I'm finally winning!"

"Yaaas!" Alya called. "Swagdrien The Suave!"

"Woo!" Marinette launched her fists in the air. "Swagdrien The Debonair!"

"Adrien," Kagami cut in, her puzzled tone stark against the laughter of her friends. "You aren't following the choreography?"

"Rules," he panted, "are made to be broken." As if to emphasise his point, he pulled a double arm wave.

Her brows scrunched. "But you're losing?"

Adrien, now mid-robot, incorporated a shrug into his dance. "This way's more fun"—he threw her a smile—"don't you think?"

His dancing didn't die down in the slightest, nor did the laughter that ensued in its wake.

---

Marinette, like most people, enjoyed bobbing along to Despacito at the best of times.

But this wasn't the best of times.

No, it was the worst. The absolute worst.

More good-natured trash-talking had led to Nino challenging Adrien to a dance-off. But not just any dance-off. No, a double couple dance off (read: everyone but her).

Furthermore, the universe was really testing her limits today—because Despacito's choreography was jam-packed with touching between partners. Sure, Kagami was rather stiff. She'd never played Just Dance before, but Adrien's skills more than made up for that. His hands nestled on her hips, their smiles broad and their bodies close as they moved to the beat.

She tried to smile. She tried to be happy for them. This was what they both wanted. Inserting herself between them – like matter between two magnets – would only be selfish. Even so, she couldn't deny the way her gut writhed at the sight of the happy almost-couple. And she couldn't help but notice Kagami's growing blush.

A distraction.

She needed a distraction.

As if some higher being had honed in on her thoughts, three knocks echoed throughout the apartment. Knuckles on wood had never sounded so wonderful!

Marinette jumped from the sofa. "I'll get it!"

Finally, she'd no longer be the fifth wheel to a quad bike. No, with Luka here, she'd instead be a part of some strange, six-wheeled hybrid. Much more appealing. She raced to the front door and swung it open.

Teal eyes smiled down at her, and their owner gave a little wave, black nail polish shining in the light of the stairwell.

"Luka!" She sprung a hug upon him and without hesitation, he returned it. The exchange only lasted two seconds – three tops – but by gosh, the rich scent of sandalwood delighted her senses long after. "So, how was your shift?"

"Oh, it couldn't end fast enough."

Truer words had never been spoken.

Marinette took his free hand in hers and guided him to the living room. The two couples were still dancing up a storm, guitar chords and Spanish lyrics echoing through the room. "Hey, I see you brought your guitar." She beamed up at him. "You'll have to play us something later. I'd really love to hear my song again!"

From the corner of her eye, Adrien stumbled mid-step.

"I saw that, Blondie!" cackled Alya, her hand in Nino's as they grooved from side to side. "You burning out?"

"Never!" He broke away from the choreography and Kagami quirked a brow as he puffed his chest out into a body roll, even more fluid than his first.

Luka slipped a guitar case off of his shoulders and against the sofa. "Hey, everyone!" He was answered by an array of breathless greetings. "Oh, right." He chuckled. "They're just dancing."

Marinetted laughed—

Until she realised the wordplay wasn't intentional.

"Wow!" Luka chimed, settling on the sofa. "Nice moves, Adrien."

Green eyes remained on the screen. "Thanks."

Marinette swiped the pizza box from the table, four pieces saved within it. "As promised, Luka!" Handing over the box, she sat beside him. "If you're not a cold pizza kinda guy, I can always heat it up for you?"

With a slice of pizza in hand, his free arm reached behind her, resting across the back of the sofa. "It's okay, Marinette. I'm perfectly fine with cold pizza." His eyes were as gentle as his smile. "The thought's appreciated though. Thank you."

A flush crept up her face as he looked at her, but she didn't mind. Not at all.

---

'We are one tonight, and we're breathing in the same air—'

With an easy smile, Marinette tapped her toes in time to the lively tempo of Turn Up The Love. To no one's surprise, Alya and Nino were nailing every move thrown their way—and fast approaching new high scores.

"Wow," Luka spoke up beside her, and her eyes flitted toward him. "They're so in tune, don't you think?"

Marinette gave a merry nod, recalling a time she'd said similar words to a certain blond.

She leant against the coffee table, smiling at the sight of her dancing friends. "They're so in sync with each other."

"You're right," Adrien said, from the other end of a FaceTime call. "Someday I hope I'll find someone I can share everything with… like they do."

In the present, she pursed her lips. Had Adrien been thinking of Ladybug then? Her eyes drifted toward the boy in question, only to catch his eyes zipping away that very second.

"Too right, Luka!" Adrien leaped into their conversation—and winced when his voice shot up an octave. Clearing his throat, he directed a smile at the dancing duo. "When's the wedding, guys?"

Alya skipped around Nino, her arms swinging to the beat. "We don't know the date just yet."

"But don't worry," Nino puffed. "You'll definitely be my best dude!"

"They're only fourteen, Adrien." Kagami tilted her head, her dark hair shifting. "How young do you plan to get married?"

Beside her, Marinette felt him tense. "Oh – I – Ye-ah." His voice cracked. "Fourteen's way too young! The legal age is – uh – eighteen, right?"

"You plan to be married at eighteen?"

"Err – Well, I don't – I don't know?" He squeezed out a laugh. "I mean, maybe. For the right girl?"

"Does that mean you'd marry the wrong girl if you were older?"

"No, I just—"

"Your indecision is troubling, Adrien."

Those words seemed to resonate with him. He shrunk into the sofa like a silent apology.

Marinette's nails dug dents into her palms—but Kagami didn't deserve her ire. She wasn't exactly well-acquainted with social cues. Heck, she probably didn't even realise what she was doing.

Flexing her paling fingers, Marinette turned to Luka, a wordless plea to fix this. She didn't trust herself to.

And he didn't disappoint.

"Hey, Marinette?" Both fencers looked his way. "Has anyone else tried your macarons yet?"

Adrien clung to those words. "I saw the carton on the bench, but I didn't want to be the first one to crack into them!" With a sheepish chuckle, he dipped a hand behind his neck. "I figured we were saving them for later in the day?"

If he didn't get his passionfruit macaron today, Marinette would scream to high heaven. "No no, Adrien!" She waved her hands for emphasis. "Feel free to help yourself. No, actually—"

She launched to her feet.

He did the same.

"—I'll bring them over," they said in unison. Blinking at each other, they laughed at once. "Sorry," they said. "I – Uh. You go first! No, you—"

Marinette held up a hand. "I'll bring the napkins. You bring the macarons. Deal?"

"Deal!"

---

A minute later, Alya and Nino collapsed onto the sofa, their chests heaving after their dance. To his delight, Nino had come out on top, destroying his former high score along with Alya's. (Not at all suspiciously, Alya had matched him point-for-point until the last thirty seconds, when her dancing had deteriorated just enough to let him win.)

A cardboard carton, with a golden emblem adorning its lid, rattled in Marinette's palms. While Adrien shared napkins around, she plonked down beside Luka. "I hope all this dancing's worked up everyone's appetite!"

Alya accepted a napkin. "By the grin on Adrien's face, I'd say his answer is a resounding yes."

"Can't blame him, babe. Those moves were unreal."

"It must be the fencing."

"From what I saw, he was a one-man sonata."

"Or a unicorn."

"Girl, did you just call Adrien a unicorn?"

Marinette nodded, unabashed. She was trying to get over him, yes. That didn't mean he wasn't still one of a kind.

With all leftover napkins now on the coffee table, Adrien resumed his seat between Marinette and Kagami. "Full disclosure: I'd make a magnificent unicorn."

Laughter erupted.

And only as it died down did Marinette speak again. "In that case, I sure hope unicorns like macarons!" She flipped back the carton in her lap, revealing an assortment of brown and yellow treats. "We've got two flavours: Belgian chocolate and passionfruit. I would've made more, but I was a little short on time."

"I'll believe it," Alya teased.

She stuck out her tongue. "Just a heads up, everyone—"

From the corner of her eye, Kagami reached for Adrien's hand and threaded it with her own. His smile wavered. He went to pull back, but Kagami tightened her grip—without realising? Adrien's struggling stopped.

"Yike—"

Marinette glimpsed a stern look from Alya.

"I mean LIKE! Yeah. I was, like, extra clumsy this morning and – err – dropped the macarons on this side." She jabbed a finger toward the left of the carton. "So – Um. Sorry about that."

Hands reached from all sides, lightening the carton in her hands, and delighted hums soon floated through the living room.

"Girl, you've really outdone yourself this time!"

"Ditto, babe!"

"I agree." Kagami admired the yellow, half-eaten macaron between her fingers. Her other hand still gripped Adrien's. "This is really delicious."

Adrien's face inched near as he marvelled at the macarons. "You made these, Marinette?" She thought she felt herself nod. "They look delicious!" He took one from the tainted side. Passionfruit, of course. His first bite— "Wow." He gazed at the treat like it was the answer to world peace. "Marinette, this macaron. It's… It's perfect!"

She felt herself beam as he savoured a second bite. This beautiful moment was most definitely worth the many Sundays she'd spent baking a single macaron.

In or out of the suit. Chat Noir or Adrien. He was her friend. Maybe she'd never see those three kids or that hamster. Maybe she'd never have that dog or that beautiful house. At least, not with Adrien.

Because they were superheroes.

Because of apocalyptic cataclysms.

Because he said he loved Ladybug, but in the end, he chose Kagami.

But she could still make him happy.

Luka reached for a treat last. His side pressed into hers as he leaned closer and picked a chocolate macaron. Like this morning, he went for the street-sullied side. With his free arm splayed behind her, he settled back into the couch cushions and savoured the snack with his eyes shut. "This flavour's even better! You're so extraordinary, Marinette."

Cheeks aflame, Marinette brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Extraordinary.

Luka said she was extraordinary.

And it wasn't the first time. No, the first time he'd been under Hawk Moth's cruel influence. And she tried not to take a supervillain's words to heart.

But then he'd said it again, his hand warm on her arm and his eyes warmer still.

"You're the most extraordinary girl, Marinette. As clear as a musical note and as sincere as a melody. You're the music that's been playing inside my head since the first day we met."

Was it time to tune along to his song?

Marinette swallowed, searching for a reply to the wonderful words of her friends. Instead, she caught the green gaze of another boy watching her fondly.

A lump lodged in her throat.

From the day she'd met him, her heart had been his.

But he didn't want his classmate.

From the day she'd met Luka, she'd been the song inside his head.

He made sure she knew where they stood.

He supported her every decision.

He made things simple.

The logical choice was clear.

Yet her heart throbbed at the thought.

No matter what, someone was bound to get hurt. Her friend. Her partner. Herself.

For over a year, she'd saved Paris with quick-thinking and convoluted strategies. She was the girl with a plan, the one people came to when times were tough. Yet here she was, unable to think up a single way to save her and her loved ones from heartbreak.

Why was she so useless?

Why couldn't she just keep everyone happy?

How could she possibly choose between them?

"Earth to Marinette?" Alya interrupted her thoughts. "Guys! I think we broke her with compliments!"

"No! Sorry, I just—" Marinette placed a hand to her chest and drew in a breath. "Thank you, everyone." She meant that wholeheartedly, and turned to Alya with a smile. "Wanna get back to dancing?"

"You know it!"

---

'Starships were meant to fly! Hands up and touch the sky!'

Of course, Alya had picked an old favourite of theirs: Starships by Nicki Minaj. A bop that never failed to bump up her mood. She knew the choreography well, but was still surprised by her soaring score. Her every move displayed a grace she'd never thought possible without a little latex magic, and over and over, the word "PERFECT" flashed gold on the screen. It was like the game was a one-word dictionary, but she sure wasn't complaining.

"Oh my gosh, M!" Alya puffed. "You are killing it!"

"Call me Swagrinette!"

Adrien laughed from his place on the sofa. "I don't think Swagrinette has quite the same ring to it." She threw a smile over her shoulder—just as Kagami eased her head onto his.

Marinette misstepped, but caught herself before the floor could. "Oops!" She wheezed out a laugh. "Spoke too soon, Al." Her arms circled through the air in sync with the dancing avatar.

Alya snorted. "You're still owning it!"

"She's right," Kagami added. "Your dancing's impressive, Marinette."

She glanced back at Kagami, another smile at the ready. It died on her lips at the sight she beheld. Adrien's eyes were on his hand, laced with Kagami's, and the look he wore was a resigned one. Knitted brows. A slight weight to his lips. He was unhappy—

Pain sliced through her ankle.

In a tangle of limbs, she tumbled to the floor.

Voices cried out her name.

Steps pounded.

She didn't know when, but her hand had clung to her ankle, and her face twisted as it throbbed beneath her fingertips.

"Are you okay?!"

Her eyes flew up—and what they beheld was excruciatingly familiar.

Two hands were extended before her: black nail polish painted the one on her right and an unmistakable ring adorned the one on her left. Her right hand remained around her ankle. Her other lifted off the floor. It drifted left, right, then paused dead centre.

With a composing breath, Marinette chose neither. Instead, she reached for a nearby ottoman, small and round and pastel pink, and chose to help herself off the floor. "I'm fine, guys," she said, reaching her feet.

Everyone stared, eyes rife with worry, while Starships thumped on in the background. Such upbeat music now seemed woefully out of place.

Alya propped a hand on her hip. "You sure, Marinette?"

Nino stepped to Adrien's side. "Yeah, that was one heck of a fall."

"I agree." Kagami's eyes were on Marinette's ankle. "It looked pretty serious."

Marinette fixed up a smile. "Really, I'm A-OK. See?" She shifted her weight to her right—

Another zap of pain.

Two sets of hands sprang to her shoulders, steadying her.

Marinette waved both boys away. "No no. I've got this." She hobbled over to the sofa, stifling a wince, while steps tapped behind her. "It's not as bad as it looks"—she wasn't sure if that was a lie—"but just in case, I think I'd better be a spectator for the rest of the day."

Luka seated himself to her immediate right. "First, we should really take care of your ankle." He looked to a concerned Alya, who'd seated herself on the arm of the sofa. "Do you have any ice packs?"

Adrien claimed the free spot to Marinette's left. "Plus something to act as a barrier between the ice pack and her skin." An instruction, not a suggestion. "Painkillers too. And some anti-inflammatory cream."

"On it!" Nino rushed to the freezer.

"We gotcha!" Alya's red hair whipped behind her as she dashed to the bathroom.

Marinette clung to the cushion beneath her. This was a disaster. A complete and utter disaster. But she could at least avoid dragging her friends down with her. "No need to fuss, guys." She kept her tone light. "It's really not that bad. And I don't wanna ruin the afternoon by—"

A comforting weight on her hand gave her pause. "Never." Adrien's eyes creased as he smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze. "We're just looking out for you. You'd do the same for any of us."

Luka's hand found her shoulder. "You can tell us if you're not okay, Marinette."

"Yeah, I can call you a doctor," Adrien chipped in. "Or get my driver to take you. Just say the word, Marinette."

Kagami knelt on the floor ahead of her, a cushion in hand. "I believe elevating the injury above the heart reduces swelling. Here." She placed the cushion on the coffee table and with a substantial amount of care, eased Marinette's foot upon it.

A smile flooded her face. Her friends were truly the best.

---

With a metallic whir, daylight broke upon the silhouette of a lean man, and flocks of butterflies stirred, their pale wings catching the sun.

"Ahh… An aspiring artist with a penchant for Picasso. One whose dreams have been crushed by a hard-hearted critic." Each word floated from his tongue with a delighted lilt. "What perfect prey for my akuma."

He beckoned a nearby butterfly to his awaiting palm, carefully caging it between two gloved hands. Darkness materialized, clinging to the insect and soiling its snowy wings.

"Fly away, my pretty akuma, and evilize this wounded soul!"

#ml fic #miraculous ladybug #you times two #adrinette #marichat #ladynoir #ladrien

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valor-selfships · 4 years

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little villa in sicily ch 3 - jjba sorlato babyfic

(read the rest on my blog!) TW for mentions of an abusive relationship and a past miscarriage (not for Gelato, but for someone else). Nothing is graphically detailed, but it is mentioned!

Chapter 3: Best of Friends

"You're up early."

It's the morning after their team's unexpected descent on their home, and Gelato looks up from reading the paper at the kitchen table to see Melone -- still half-dressed and hair undone -- emerging from one of the guest rooms in the back.

"Yeah, well, the baby's kinda like an alarm clock," Gelato admits. "She gets up and starts movin' around the same time every morning. I found out pretty early on it's not really worth it to try to get back to sleep once she decides it's time to get up, so. I make the best of it."

His teammate looks unusually serious for once as he walks over and pulls out one of the kitchen chairs to sit across from Gelato. He looks him up and down for a moment. "Y'know, you look really great, considering how pregnant you are."

Gelato snorts and reaches for the glass of ginger ale he set across from him on the table. "Nice one, Melone. But you said "you look really fat and miserable" all wrong."

"I'm serious," Melone pouts. "If I was gonna insult you, I would've just come out and done it right off the bat. You know me." He gives a crooked little grin, then continues. "Anyway. You've been getting pre-natal care, yeah?"

"Yep. We switch doctors, just, y'know, 'cause it's safer that way. But we haven't missed a single appointment." Gelato gives a fond smile. "As soon as we got here, Sorbet went crazy with research. I've never seen him with that many books in all the years we've known each other." A soft laugh leaves his lips. "I swear, he checked out every parenting and pregnancy book in every library near here at least once. Some of 'em twice. And before we'd go to see a doctor, he had to know their whole life history. To be fair, though, that was kinda on me. I was terrified of putting the baby in danger."

Gelato lets out a pensive little sigh, rubbing circles on the side of his belly when his daughter gives a flurry of little kicks. "It's crazy, how fast you fall in love. I had only just learned about her, and it felt like I would do anything to keep her safe. I know Sorbet feels the same way." He looks up, noticing the little half-smile on Melone's face and the faraway look in his eyes. "You okay, Melone?"

"Mmm... just thinking about how I can relate." He props his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his hand, looking towards the kitchen window. A family of songbirds has taken up residence in the bushes just outside of it, and last week, their first nest hatched. "But... that's not really important."

"You can relate?" Gelato echoes. "Do you mean, like, with your Stand's ability, or?"

"Pfft, nah, nothing like that," Melone replies, waving a hand. "Like I said, it's not really important."

"It obviously is, if you started talking about it in the first place," Gelato counters. He frowns a little, tilts his head. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm not here to judge you, and frankly, I'm not interested. Not like it'd really be my place, considering Sorbet and I kinda up and left without telling anybody for all these months."

"Hey, look, you were trying to keep your kid safe, I get it. I would've done the same thing," Melone shrugs. "Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance."

For a moment, they're both quiet.

"Were you ever pregnant, Melone?" Gelato finally asks.

Melone exhales slowly. After another silent moment, he nods slowly. "Yeah. I was a lot younger, and dumber, and naive. I was with a shitty guy who told me he loved me, and I believed him, 'cause I was desperate. I mean... he beat the shit out of me, but I figured that was normal." His voice trembles a little, but he keeps on going. "We weren't exactly careful when he wanted to have sex, so I guess it's not a surprise that I got pregnant. I mean, it was a shock to me, but... I was ready to keep the baby. I mean... I even told him I could do it on my own if he didn't wanna be involved."

Here he shuts his eyes. "I don't know if... if he just didn't believe me, or if it was a power thing, or what. But he didn't want the baby, and he didn't want me, so he -" Melone bites down hard on his lip. "One minute, we were arguing, and the next I... woke up in the hospital. They gave it to me pretty straight, said there wasn't a lot they could do. I was - I was twenty-two weeks. That's the part that hurts the most." His shoulders slump, and Gelato reaches out to rub his arm, soothing him in the best way he can. "I mean, it coulda been worse. They said that, for the most part, my fertility wasn't affected."

"Still, that's traumatic as hell," Gelato tells him. "Have you ever told anybody about this?"

"Just Risotto, and now you," Melone shrugs. "Just promise me you won't spread it around, okay? I... I wanna be able to tell this to people when I'm ready to. You feel?"

"It's not something I'd talk to anyone else about, anyway," Gelato reassures him. "It's not my story to tell. I'm not that much of an asshole that I'd reveal something like that about you."

A tiny smile spreads across Melone's lips. "Thanks. I really am happy for you two, by the way. I gotta admit, it's a pretty natural mental image, you and Sorbet with a whole bunch of kids."

Gelato snorts. "Who said anything about a whole bunch of kids? Sorbet'll be lucky if I agree to do this again. He's gonna have to beg me first."

"Has it been that bad?" Melone asks.

"I slept in the bathroom most days during the first trimester," Gelato sighs, rubbing at his forehead. "If it weren't for plain pasta, rice, and bread, and some crackers every now and then, I have no clue how I would've managed to eat anything. And honestly, I won't lie, Sorbet was a godsend. He's been there through all of it, and God knows there's been times where it would've been easier for him to run off." He snickers a little. "Like the one time I threw a teapot at him and broke it when I was angry. I don't even remember what it was about, but I felt so bad right afterwards I cried about it for two hours."

"You mean you don't do that normally?" Melone smirks. "Wouldn't surprise me."

"Oh, shut up. You say that like you and Formaggio don't argue about dumb shit all the time, and like you haven't made Illuso hole up in the mirror world for days at a time so he doesn't have to pick a side," Gelato says.

Melone lets out an overly shocked gasp. "Is that why he does that? That lying bastard! He told me it was so he could work on important business-related stuff!"

It's moments like these, Gelato realizes as he and Melone laugh together, that he's missed the most.

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years

Text

Love The Way You Love Me - Vince Kovac (Tangle)

Author’s Note: Whilst this will be a part of the ‘Relentless’ series (I say series. It’s more like another multi-part retcon) it’s still xOC. I love her name too much to not have a really short OC fic to get it out of my system.

Disclaimer: Anything to do with Tangle (so. Vince.) isn’t mine, the OC & writing is mine. This is the one occasion where a Lyric is mine!

Premise: In an attempt to solve his girlfriends architectural problems, Vince Kovac recons there’s only one thing he can do...

Words: 2857

Warnings: Swearing NOT Reader Insert

_____

So come with me and walk for awhile Can I spring you outta here and talk for awhile Gotta know what's the deal with you Mister now I'm really feeling you

If you got a little extra time Then won't you let me have it?

I like how your T-shirt cuts you right And how you melt me deep inside Oh, you're running in a different lane Don't make me chase you, boy, you know I'm game By the way you're rockin' it in them Nike's Won't you let me play on your team tonight We can go one-on-one, you and me That's the way it should be ---

The kitchen work top was cluttered with papers, books and technology. An array of architectural folders and drawings – from simple framework plans to extensive detail – scattered themselves in front of her as she squinted at her Laptop screen again. From easy exercises to the plain absurd, the design project she was currently working on was taking far longer for her to work out in her brain, to commit to paper, than she would like. Which is why she’d turned back to books. Luckily, from the complicated wording, the woman sitting scribbling away knew what they were talking about. Lyric Brennan reached for another book and studied her drawing carefully again skipping a few pages onto the next chapter, lazily she held the book open in one hand and twisted her hair around her pencil in the other – muttering as she did so… “Why would you ask for something so complicated when you already told me to make it simple on our phone call… That’s not simple… Do you have any idea how long this will take for someone to project plan… let alone build…? And they can’t figure that out until I can figure out how to draw it and fit it in here…” Lyric scanned the book, as if it would give her answers she knew it wouldn’t, and began scribbling away again.

Vince Kovac’s footsteps bounced down the stairs as he hummed some tune Lyric had recently heard on the radio – something catchy, it wasn’t his usual music taste, so far as she remembered…. “Morning!!” – The cheerful greeting was only returned with a mumbled, “Yeah…” “Lyric.” She didn’t look up from her book, staring hard at her drawing and then the computer again, eyebrows furrowing. Vince placed his hands on his hips “Oy! Ms.Brennan!” Lyric lifted her head slowly “What.” “Are you not talking this morning, or what?” She indicated to her computer “Like this isn’t giving me enough of a headache.” He scoffed at her jab “What is it?” “Corporate building…” “Oh, they want a little Lyric-al flair do they?” His pun didn’t even raise a smile, so something was up. “Uh huh. But what they are asking for is about as complicated as it gets, and hasn’t been well thought out at all…” “Long project?” “Will be if I need to oversee it.” “It’s… here right?” “Canada.” “CANADA!?!” “Mm hmmm…” Vince looked to all the books and drawings in front of her; including some building manuals he’d given her as a joke. She clearly wasn’t joking though – this was serious. “Oh.” “Yeah.” Lyric sighed “Sometimes I hate having an in industry name.” “Yeah, when they put those plaques up in the building and people walk in and can automatically tell it’s a Lyric Brennan building it’s just the f**king worst.” She gave a small smile “As long as it’s paying the bills… I suppose.” “Heh…” Vince nodded, then skipped around the table, and wrapped his arms around her; “Well, I can tell you’re busy, and I’ll leave you alone then…” “Oh, thanks.” Lyric closed the book in her hands and tossed it to one side. “Well, you’re not going to talk, when you’re doing... Heck – what even is that!?” “At this point. I can’t even tell you…” She leafed through her sheets to another drawing “This is what it should look like. But this is structural… And drawing it on paper structurally is not gonna…” She studied Vince’s face, and thought he had it on point, a builder’s worst nightmare. Essentially a corkscrew of glass and metal that would run in colours from one corner of the building diagonally to the other, and then up into the sky. Exactly the kind of artistic piece someone would want to hire Lyric for, though. “Don’t, whatever you do give them my business card.” “Shit! Should I ask for it back!?” Vince pushed her shoulder gently and brushed his lips to her cheek “When do you think you’ll be done?” “…Oh… I wouldn’t like to put a time to it…” Lyric bit her lips together as his hands ran down her shoulders to her sides and down her body to her thighs. “Vin.” “Aw, c’mon…” “It’ll take even longer if you pull me out of the zone…” “And how long have you been sitting here!?” “Since 5-?” “FIVE!? You left me alone in bed for 3 hours!?” He grabbed her waist, causing her to laugh as he peppered her with kisses “Oh, now I really need to drag you away from this! I deserve your love!!” “Oh really…” She pushed him back with her elbows “Get off! I have a compass and I’m not afraid to use it.” “How often are you going to threaten to stab me with drawing apparatus?” “Get on with your work and we’ll see what you deserve, Kovac.” He bit his lip at that. She always had a certain flair to the way she said his last name. She always had. And he’d always liked it that little bit more when she did. He straightened up, “I don’t have any sites to be on today, all legal paper work…” She gave a shrug and turned back to her computer “As long as you’re doing it.” Vince gave a tsk and rolled his eyes, for a girl who liked trying to break the laws of gravity, she sure loved nearly every other rule in the book. “And by the way, the password on your computer – waaaaaaay too easy. And your pin-number. Even easier.” “WHAT!? LYRIC! W-” There was a teasing grin on her face, even though she wasn’t turned to him to use it, with the way she tossed her white blonde hair over her shoulder. He’d always liked that too, the white bleeding into blue; “I’ve only used it once, come on, I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Lyric’s incredibly neat writing flowed across the page as she made further notes. He stared hard at her “…I’m changing them.” “Good. I like a challenge.” Vince narrowed his eyes; “Just f**king make sure the builder can understand those notes okay.” “Alright Kovac, far be it from me to insult the intelligence of any of your builder buddies.” “HA!” She heard him muttering as his footsteps wandered away, but ten minutes later he came back with a load of washing; Lyric gave him a look with a raised eyebrow, Vince, washing!? She shook her head and continued with her work. “Lyl. Did you wear my shirt to workout in; again!?!” Vince dragged one of his blue T-Shirts from the washing-machine. “Yup.” He sighed “Why??” She gave a smirk; “I like wearing your clothes and nothing much else.” He had to pause his train of thought before he said something he’d regret. For a woman who didn’t want to do anything until she’d finished working, Lyric certainly was going the wrong way about it. Truth was she just liked wearing his shirts to run in; they were way too big for her, but so comfortable. And every so often she’d wear one he’d worn for work earlier in the week – and if he couldn’t run with her that particular that day it was nice to breathe him in instead. Vince got up and came over to the table again, looking at all the stuff that wasn’t architecturally related. A single coffee mug. But nothing else. “Babe, didn’t you even have breakfast!?” “Oh… No…” He could understand why, once Lyric got obsessed over something she couldn’t finish, that became the only thing she could think on until she’d figured it out. He’d watched her in the back room getting frustrated and throwing both screwed up paper and pencils at the wall from time to time. “Do you want me to make you something…!?” She looked up to him slowly; “As long as there’s no banana involved?” “Yeah. Preferably.” “You’re missing out, you know. You should eat one before running. You know they give them out after marathons right?!” “Why do you think I don’t run marathons.” “Sure, it’s all to do with the banana’s…” She leant on her hand for a minute and those blue eyes of hers softened. It was moments like that that he would see those pretty almost violet lines that criss-crossed through them. “…Go on, surprise me.” “You sound like you need comfort food. Pancakes?” “Pancakes…?” She gave an almost childish smile “…Before running?” “Okay. I’ll make ‘em so you can still run on ‘em…” “Why thank you.” “Well, always got your best interests at heart, don’t I?” “I noticed…” She scratched the back of her head with her pencil as she looked back to her drawing “…Thank you…” Vince bent down and kissed her on the cheek gently, his unshaved face scratching against her skin and making her scrunch her face with a slight giggle; “Before I do that though - I’m gonna get ready…!” Lyric eyes widened suddenly as she froze, a smile spreading across her face, she turned quickly in her chair as Vince ascended the stairs, this was important too. “VIN..!!” He stopped and leaned over, “Yes---?” “I love you!!” She always loved that smile; “I love you too!”

Half an hour later Vince appeared again, in what looked like training gear. Lyric frowned but continued drawing, she had her suspicions but she’d have to wait to see if he proved them right. He was an efficient cook she would give him that. And no sooner was she finished with jotting down notes for the next piece of interior design was she receiving another kiss on the cheek as he placed the pancakes in front of her; “High energy, low sugar. You’ll need it, given how far YOU run.” She shook her head after him, daring him to say it again. He didn’t, just grinned. She ate slowly and placed her attention back on her work, rather than he partner. Even as Vince laced his trainers and attached a step-counter to the waistband of his tracks. Lyric was passed again as he collected his phone and zipped that into his pocket too; it was the one thing she always insisted he take. What did make Lyric prick up her ears, though, was the sound of the front door key – “Vince! What are you doing…?” “Going running!!” She opened her mouth in shock, for all his talk about her running he was going to go early-!? “Without me!?” “You’re working…” “I don’t have to be…” His footsteps echoed down the hallway and Vince appeared again, taking one of her hands, “Well come on then…!” For a second it looked like she might drop everything and stand up, but she hesitated and he knew he’d lost her as soon as he’d got her; “NO! Oh God – all this stuff is due next week and I’m really no better off! I’ve got two days before I-!” Vince waved his hands to calm her down; “Well, you need a break!!!” “N-No!! I need to do this – I’m focused!” He tipped his head and pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, clearly less than impressed; “Can you at least give me a straight answer?” She dropped his hand with a shake of her head; it’s because she didn’t really want to say no to spending time with him. But Lyric knew how much work she had to get done. And how long she’d be out running. The times just didn’t collate properly. Vince tsk’d and ran upstairs again. Lyric sighed and looked to the scattered papers in front of her – how badly did she want to be with him? Sure, she wanted to finish this, right now, but right now she was more worried that Vince would leave and not come back. Like it or not, she needed him to bounce ideas off, or for advice. A book couldn’t given her answers it didn’t have written. And certainly couldn’t make her laugh with a snarky attitude. She slammed her laptop and book shut – sticking a paper in as a book mark, she lined her pencils up to the side of the drawing she was finishing, and straightened everything else on the table out neatly. Jumping up from the table and taking the stairs two at a time, Lyric rounded the corner into their bedroom and rooted quickly through her dresser, she found a running shirt and a pair of leggings – throwing them onto the bed. Vince appeared and leaned on the door with a grin; “Ah. I see you’ve changed your mind…!” She opened another draw and ran the hair tie around her wrist; “Yeah... urm… Just let me change… Uhhh… Yeah. Right.” He rolled his eyes in mocking; “Oh, come on. I’m not waiting for you now! You’ve got two minutes I’m counting!!!” Vince started his stop watch, (half as a joke) as Lyric gave him a look, then sprinted to the bathroom to change. Vince raised an eyebrow; “What I can’t watch you change now!?” “F**k you!” “You may when we get back if you like?” At least he heard her laughing as she slipped off her shorts and shirt and replaced them with her running gear. Tying her hair back into a high pony tail; maybe that wasn’t always the best idea, she knew he’d make the same joke about pulling her hair. Aw, let him make it. See how he likes it!

“Right I’m going!!!” Vince laughed knocking on the door as he passed to go downstairs. “HUH!?” Lyric thought hard for a second – no way that was two minutes…! She laced her trainers and flung open the door – scrambling down the stairs as Vince closed the front door, “NO!! VIN!! WAIT UP-!!!” She sighed, frustrated, kicking the door, “Aw. C’MON….” Lyric turned, picking up her own phone and fishing her keys from her work bag, just in case she didn’t catch up. Checking she had everything she needed, Lyric opened the door – closing it firmly behind her, she ran after Vince at almost full tilt, who was jogging gently, he was waiting for her…

She sprinted passed him and turned around; now jogging backwards. He flashed her a smirk; “Was wondering when you’d turn up!!” “Shut up. I was calculating your mistakes. I recon you jumped the gun by at least 12 seconds!!” “Did I?” “No, you know you did!” “Well. C’mon then! We’re doing a round of the block!” She scoffed “You’ll be lucky if you get away with the block. At this rate you’re not even getting away with the running path.” “Oh, don’t make me run all the way to the track and back.” “Ohhh-! Good idea, hope that 12 seconds was worth it.” He let out a groan; “You’ll be the death of me woman.” She laughed; “What a way to go!” Lyric levelled off and jogged next to him, getting as close to him as possible; “Okay, what’s going on...?” “I’m cold…” “Cold, eh?” Vince glanced around, it was autumn sure, but it was hardly cold yet. Plus at the rate she usually ran she’d be hot in no time at all. “What’s wrong with you!?” “What’s so wrong with wanting to be with you…?” That was unnecessarily smooth, Vince frowned for a second “Hm. Nothing, But I feel like if you want to be with me and burn calories we wouldn’t necessarily have to go outside…” She only looked mildly disgusted with him; “I hope you want to end up in the middle of the road with comments like that.” “How are you not used to me by now?” “I am, sometimes I still can’t believe what I’m hearing.” “And yet-!” He turned those smart blue eyes on her and she shook her head; “For some reason I still love you.”

This continued for about half an hour – until they came to the park in the middle of town, by this time Vince was beginning to slow, no such luck that his other half would be doing the same. Lyric was now slaloming through the piles of fallen leaves and jumping every couple of times she did this – turning and changing pace whenever she could. He couldn’t help but smile at her self-training. But she slowed down and turned, now walking backwards. Vince was grateful that now he could slow right down as well, and pretty soon found himself almost on top of her; given she was walking so slow.

Of course, this was Lyrics’s plan, and she placed her arms around him, almost at a standstill she was now being dragged backwards by Vince’s paces forwards. After realising this would only end up with him tripping, or her on the floor, she decided it best to walk again; but this time it was awkward. Luckily Vince wound his arms around her waist before she fell and slowed down his walk even more, they both eventually stopped – and closed the gap between them. Lyric’s hands moving through his hair slowly and his hands caressing the small of her back as she did so. Ah! Now that’s much better!

The autumn leaves fell gently around them as they kissed…

---

@dennismitchell @wltz-bby @happyskywhale #MendoTagSquad. @3134045126 @kylo-ren-has-an-8pack Figured I might have got a Vince Kovac crew...?

#Vince Kovac #Ben Mendelsohn #Vince Kovac x OC #Tangle #LYRIC!#You know I never used you... so I upgraded (down... graded?) you a little and #...you fit Vince well. So. Babe! Welcome to Tumblr. And a Mendo.#From scientist to architect.#Be-aut-iful!#68 #Shame Vince you just missed out on being Mr.69 #Lyric #Team 2009 #PNVJ

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knittastically · 6 years

Text

A Lioness Amongst the Wolves Pt 12

Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter but sometimes real life pokes it’s head above the parapet. I will also whisper that it has been strangely difficult to write. As always thank you for reading, I love to read your comments and if you could reblog that would be fantastic.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11

My hair is piled on the top of my head and covered tightly with square of linen, the skirts of my gown are hitched up and tucked into my girdle and I make my way out into the courtyard looking like any other housemaid. The heat is rising as I make my way to the gates, only the wicket is open and as I draw near a young guard calls down from the hoarding above. “Mornin’ Mam’selle Pelletier. You off out agin?

I shield my eyes and as I look up a boy salutes me, I had hoped that my simple clothes would be enough of a disguise, but he knows exactly who I am.

“Indeed I am”

“Ooooh so where you runnin’ off too then?” Before I can answer the Sergent cuts in.

“Shut up boy, Good mornin’ Mam’selle you’re abroad early can I ‘elp ye?”

“No thank you Sergent I am just on my way to speak with Barnabé Laurent, the Mason”

“Ahhhh reyt” he nods his head as if it is the most normal thing in the world “You know where ta go?”

“My thanks yes I do”

“So what’ you wantin’ ‘im for then?” the young lad pipes up.

“I said quiet boy” the Sargent snaps at him. I smile, here is a young soldier who hasn’t yet learned not to ask questions and God forbid he should ever ask Raymond to explain himself, he’d roast his arse. Then as I knew he would, the young lad dug himself into an even deeper hole.

“You given’ up burnin’ beds Mam’selle, you taken to wreckin’ the Chateau now?”

I am smiling, which unfortunately only encourages him the more and he lets loose with his next remark.

“Mind you I, should imagine between the two on yer on yer Weddin’ night you’ll damn near break the bloody place anyhow, I’ve seen the way....”

He doesn’t get out another word, the Sergent wallops him around the back of the head with the short stick he carries as a mark of his office.

“Guard room now! You’ve just earned yersel night duties fer the next month my lad. Maybe you’ll larn to keep yer mouth shut in future.”

“Sergent”, I shout up. “Please don’t be too harsh on him”

“Beggin, yer pardon Mam’selle but he shouldn’t a spoken outta turn he’ll larn all the faster this way but if it pleases you I’ll make it two weeks”

I looked up giving him my best smile “I thought perhaps two or three days”

The old soldier thought hard and laughed down at me. “Mother of God I must be turnin’ soft ‘arted but very well, Sevn nights Mam’selle I can’t make it no less than that

“Ah well, whatever you decide Sergent” I nod up at him and the young lad mouths something at me which looks like “Thank you” before I pass through the wicket and on over the moat bridge to make my way into the outer ward. No one lies late abed in Summer, every daylight hour is put to good use and as I make my way along I am enveloped in the sounds and smells of all those services which are the beating heart of the Chateau. The workshops, barns and granaries, brew house, bake house and servants’ quarters.

Suddenly I stop dead and in spite of the warmth of the morning, a shiver runs through me as I look up at the solid, curtain wall soaring above. It is as if a weight presses on my heart, a sense of unease wraps its cold arms around me.

“What in Hells name are you doing Isabé? Go back to the Manor, live quietly there, leave Raymond to Eleanor, this is no place for you girl, how can you dare to think you can be Chatelaine here?”

For the first time I feel a rising panic the at becoming Chatelaine and I feel my courage sliding away.

Jehanne and Ghislane gather their troops in the Hall. An army of women volunteers, dressed in workaday clothes mills around, not just housemaids but women of status too. All chattering and eager to help in showing the Chateau at its best for the wedding day of Raymond and his young bride.

“Oh he is so he is so handsome even with that scar, a bit of a miserable Bastard though” One housemaid laughs.

“And she is far too young for him, I’ll bet she’ll lead him a merry dance, knows her own mind that’s for sure.” adds another.

“Ahhh” One of the older ladies sighs “But have you seen how he looks at her, with his eyes full of passion and heat, I wish someone would look at me like that, she’ll keep him young.”

“And tired,” the woman standing next to Ghislane giggles. “They’ll not waste time climbing over each other just to get out of bed, don’t expect we’ll see much of ‘em for a while after the weddin’.”

“Aye it’ll be leave the food outside the door, knock and bugger off I’ll bet.”

Ghislane claps her hands and everyone quietens.

“Ladies there is much to do, but we have the advantage of a little more time, since Sieur Raymond has departed for Paris and,” she grins “has neglected to set a definite date.”

“All unoccupied chambers will be needed and we will begin with those, once cleaned they will be locked and left in readiness. The exception of course will be Sieur Raymond’s quarters.”

The two young housemaids who were involved in that episode giggle and snort then clap hands over their mouths as Ghislane looks sharply at them, but even she begins to smile.

“Then, we will turn our attentions to those rooms that are occupied”

“But why Madame Bérenger?”

“It’s an important day, the list of guests is growing and there will be Nobles attending, we cannot have the great and the good bedding down in the stables can we? So Quarters with more than one chamber will be furnished with extra beds. I want us to have made a start by the time Isabé returns, now off and gather up what you need.”

“You two” she points to the two young girls who had been giggling, then hands them a key drawn from the pouch hanging from her girdle, “Go and fetch fresh bed linens and coverlets and mind you come straight back”

“Yes Madame” they curtsey and scuttle away.

“Right” Jehanne steps towards Ghislane “Shall we continue with our own matter?” and she holds up her hand and waggling her fingers to show a gold ring set with a large brilliant blue stone on her middle finger. “I will wager this and enough of the finest linen to make you a gown, against...” she considers carefully “Against a barrel of your own best ale, a large barrel mind and a good cheese,”

“Of Course consider it done” Ghislane smiles her sweetest old lady smile “But don’t forget Jehanne my dear, all parts of the bet must be won” she holds up a bony finger to stress the terms. “Else the whole of it is void”

“Parts, I don’t recall you mentioning that” Jehanne is taken aback and looks a little wary.

“Oh forgive me did I not say, well it is of no matter. The wager is this, Eleanor must humble herself enough to help us clean the Chateau, and Raymond” Ghislane shoots Jehanne a lewd toothy grin and winks “Raymond must bed Isabé before the wedding”

Jehanne’s eyes pop wide open and her brows fly upwards, she actually looks a little scandalised, and snorts. “Ghislane, behave yourself, what are you saying?” she starts to ease the ring from her finger. “I may as well give you this now for there is little chance of Eleanor helping us and even less that Isabé will surrender to Raymond until after she stands before the priest.”

Ghislane leans closer to her.

"If that idiot man does not get her into his bed sooner rather than later, they will be walking around like two cats on hot bricks. Which might not be good for any of us knowing the tempers they both have. Besides he can barely keep his hands off her, you saw them on the walkway, Dear Lord I thought he was going to take her there and then."

"I thought she was about to let him" Jehanne presses her lips into a tight line and holds in a laugh, then follows Ghislane's gaze across to the far end of the hall where Eleanor has entered. She is dressed in an elegant watchet coloured gown and fashionably long girdle, from it hangs a red leather purse. As she draws near to them Jehanne notices that her shoes are of the same soft red leather, these are no workaday clothes. Trotting alongside her mother, Nicolette sings a song of her own making and her braids bob up and down in time to its rhythm.

“Good day to you Madame Forrestier, are you come to offer us your assistance?” It is impossible to miss the sarcasm that drips from Ghislane’s lips. A smug smile hovers over Eleanor’s mouth and she takes a moment before answering “No Madame Bérenger, I have other things to do” she waves an elegant, well-manicured hand at nothing in particular. “Also I have promised Nicolette that she may ride this morning.”

Jehanne snaps at her “I am sure Mam’selle Isabé made it clear that everyone should be available to help”

“That may be so, but Mam’selle Isabé is not here, I am not a housemaid and nor do I take instructions from them.” With her eyes narrowed and ignoring Jehannes furious expression she sweeps her up and down with an imperious look. “If you will excuse me ladies” She turns away and seems to glide to the main door.

“Bitch” Jehanne spits out. “If Isabé were, here there would be sparks flying”

“If Isabé were here, Eleanor would be wearing that damned smile on the other side of her face. Don’t fret Jehanne all will come right. So let’s forget that trollop and get back to the business in hand, our wager.” She grins and Jehanne asks.

“So all or nothing is that fair, what happens if only half the wager comes off?”

Ghislane thinks for a moment, “Alright then we shall split the difference, I will settle for the cloth”

“Then I will settle for the ale.”

Ghislane seals the bargain in an unladylike fashion by spitting on her palm and offering her hand to Jehanne who grasps it without hesitation. The urge to hitch my skirts higher and run away from the Chateau is growing by the second. It would not take long to make my way back to the Manor though it would be a useless undertaking, Henri and Blanche would have me back here double quick.

“You’re an idiot Isabé, what choice do you have?”No other man has offered for you it seems Raymond is the only one brave enough or stupid enough to take you on”

I laugh to myself, it is true, most of the young men I know are wary around me, I’m known as a feisty baggage, a firebrand and Raymond is certainly not stupid, so that only leaves brave or perhaps reckless.

I raise a fist to the curtain wall “Damn you Raymond, Damn you to hell with your handsome face and wicked mouth. “The young lad walking past stares at me as if I am a madwoman.

He has said he loves me, yet has not courted me except in his own fashion. Neither does he know me but has simply decided I am the right woman for him. An old soldier set in his ways and drawing us into a May and December marriage. I fear we shall end up despising one another, and a handsome face will be of no recompense.

Sitting down heavily on the grass I draw my knees to my chest. But my mind plays games, I see his darkly handsome face, remember his arms about me, the look, and the gentle softness in his eyes when he whispered he loved me and I smile.

“Make the best of it girl, there are no escape routes.”

Scrambling to my feet I brush the dust and dried grass from my gown, paste a smile on my lips and set off to the Mason’s in the hope that I look as joyful as a young bride to be is meant to

Eleanor Forrestier has slipped away from the exercise yard for a few moments, she stands beside the pigeonnair gently cradling a bird in her hands.

“Fly straight, Fly swift” she drops a kiss to its head then releases it into the air. Tied to its leg a small wooden cylinder holding a message that only one man will understand. “Beware G+G.”

The Mason's yard is much larger than I'd imagined and full of the rhythmic sounds of men splitting, dressing and working stone, on the far side large blocks are being winched onto a cart.

"Mind yerself Mam'selle"

I step quickly out of the way as a young lad leads two draught horses past me, pulling a cart that groans and creaks under the weight of blocks of unworked stone. Without slowing he guides it deftly through the gateway with inches to spare.

Every man and boy is fully employed, they barely glance at me as I walk farther into the yard. Already the heat is building and it bounces off the huge lumps of pale stone.

"May I be of assistance Mam'selle?"

Spinning round I almost collide with a gangly but quite handsome young man with a shock of auburn curls and bright hazel eyes.

"Thank you, I am looking for Master Laurént, is he here this morning?"

"Yes Mam'selle he has not yet left for the Cathedral, I am his son Giles and may I ask your name?" He smiles broadly showing two rather large and slightly prominent front teeth.

"Isabé."

He waits for more but I do not give it.

"Then this way please, we will find him at the tracing room." I follow him across the dusty, noisy yard to a small wooden building, the door is wide open and the wooden boards have been taken down from all the windows. Behind it, is what must be the family home, neat and tidy with a newly thatched roof.

"Father, you have visitor," Giles stands aside and lets me step into the cool of the small building.

“I am Barnabé Laurent Madame, how may I help you?"

A little taller and broader than Giles, he sports the same hazel eyes the same auburn hair as his son, although there is a little grey at the temples. Thrusting out one huge paw to me, I clasp it and my own hand almost completely disappears.

"Good Morning, I am Isabé and it is Mam'selle, at least for a little while longer."

The same toothy smile as his son, spreads across his face and he nods "I have come to ask your help Master Laurent."

"Then ask Mam'selle, I shall help you if I can, Giles go ask your Mother to fetch wine and water" From beneath the work bench he pulls out a stool for me and as I sit I cast my eyes around the neat and well-ordered work room.

“So how can I help?”

I make my request and explain my need for scaffolding, Bérnard narrows his eyes and screws his mouth to one side as he considers what I have said.

“I am truly sorry Mam’selle but I really cannot see my way to helping you. It takes experienced men to put scaffolding up correctly and all mine are stretched to their limit, we are working every hour the Good Lord sends in this dry weather” His smile is rueful, his voice full of regret.

Madame Laurént waddles into the room carrying the tray almost at arm’s length, she is petite, attractive and heavily pregnant, three young children hover at the doorway. As I stand to give up my seat and take the tray, her eyes pop wide, she almost looks as if she is about curtsey and I shake my head.

Sipping at the wine that she has brought across, I try to hide my disappointment, though I am sure I am not hiding it well.

“Truly Mam’selle if I could find a way to help you, I would.

I hold out my hand to him “I understand and I’m sure that whatever we do the hall will still look better than it does now and doubtless the menfolk will notice little and care less if there is some dust and a few cobwebs.”

Madame Laurént snorted in agreement.

“Thank you Madame, the wine was most welcome”

“I will bid you good day Master Laurént and thank you for listening.” I flash him the best smile I can manage and he escorts me to the door watching as I cross the yard.

“Bérnard, how could you refuse her?” His wife struggles to her feet. “Do you not realise who that is, it’s Mam’selle Pelletier, soon to be Madame de Merville” “Oh of course I do you silly woman, I knew as soon as she set foot in here.” He slips an arm around her and drops a kiss to the top of her head. “You need not fret, I am sure I can arrange something and I will speak with her tomorrow, that young woman has much to recommend her not least the fact that she did not dangle her rank and status under my nose to try and impress me or force me into helping her.”

He slaps his wife gently on her arse, “Now leave the tray and go and rest” she smiles at him presses her hand against her lower back and waddles her way back to the cottage.

As I race into the courtyard I catch sight of Eleanor Forrestier and run across to her.

“Why are you not in hall helping the others?” I demand keeping my voice low not wanting Nicolette to hear too much.

“Because I had other things to do” she glares at me “Also I promised Nicolette she could practice her riding, she wants to show her Father how well she is doing.”

“Then if you have finished, I should be obliged if you would help us”

I turn away but she grabs my arm and pulls me back, as I glare at her I see the expression on her face and it chills me. Cold, calculating and under it all a little fear.

“Isabé you and I must speak, there are things you need to know about Raymond and you need to know them now.”

I yank my arm away and snap at her. “I will learn what I need from Raymond himself, I do not need his whore to tell me”

Moving closer to me she leans in, her voice is low but commanding “You will listen Isabé, we will go to your rooms where we can be quiet.”

My heart seems to falter in my chest and my stomach clenches, as a wave of unease washes over me.

“Very well” I sweep up the steps into the hall and Jehanne sees me and rushes over.

“I have business to discuss with Madame Forrestier we will join you later” I turn to Eleanor, “I think it best to leave Nicolette in the care of these ladies.” She nods in agreement, crouches down to speak to her daughter and then as if she is the Chatelaine herself, makes her way to my chamber leaving me to follow.

“Isabé, child you look ill, what is wrong?” Ghislane takes my hand “What has that bitch been saying”

“I think it is more likely that what she is going to say will disturb me, I must go.”

And I race up the stairs behind Eleanor.

We sit across from one another “Isabé, please, you will likely need this” she hands me a cup of wine and as I drink she begins to speak.

“Raymond is in danger, someone in this household has been spying on him and sending information back to a contact in Paris.”

“Do you know who is a danger to him?”

“Yes, but he does not wish me to tell you”

“That is ridiculous and stupid, why would they do that and how would you know?” I slap my hand on the table.

“Because he is a powerful man, with the ear of the King, he is his watchdog, spymaster, diplomat and assassin. To dispose of him would leave the way clear for someone else to take his place, someone who might not have the interest of King and country at heart.” Eleanor narrows her eyes and watches me closely before continuing. “I have known Raymond for much longer than the 5 years everyone suspects, I understand how he works and I know his enemies or at least most of them, I was once in the same profession and now I suppose you could say I am in his employ.”

“Eleanor I know what you are trying to do and you are a fool if you think to scare me away from Raymond with this pathetic fucking story, you will never have him back so you may as well stop this now.” My voice is cold and calm, a sure sign that my temper is rising. “To say you were in the same profession, spying, killing, you must think I am addlebrained.”

“Oh there are many of us Isabé, let me persuade you that it is true” her voice is calm but she smiles and sighs clasping her hands together.

“My husband died in a tavern brawl, a drunken argument over a dice game, it was all a charade, a play. He was a danger to Raymond, It was an easy death, as quiet and swift as I could make it”

It takes me a moment to realise what she has said.

“You” I gasped, “you killed your husband?” my voice croaks out and the wine cup shakes in my hand.

“Women make excellent assassins Isabé. A tall, lean young man in plain clothing, riding a non-descript horse is barely noticed and soon forgotten. Even my own husband did not recognise me.”

Before I can speak, the point of a slim bladed knife is embedded into the table, it quivers with the force of the thrust and I stare open mouthed. I did not even see where it came from.

“It was him or Raymond, my instructions were to protect Raymond at any cost” her tone is calm and business-like.

My heart pounds so hard that I can hear it in my ears, I have no words but I have so many questions. Eleanor reaches across the table and takes hold of my hands.

“Raymond will never tell you everything about his life, there are secrets he must keep. But he has permitted me to tell you a little, I have never questioned his orders and I never will. I know this is hard for you to understand Isabé.”

When I look the knife is no longer there, I did not see her take it and I have no idea where she has hidden it.

Eleanor gets up to take her leave but halts in the doorway for a moment.

“Isabé believe me when I say Raymond is danger.I have sent a message to him, you had best pray to God and pray damned hard that my warning reaches him in time. Now I shall go and change my clothes and meet you in hall”

“How do you know where to reach him?”

She shakes her head. “It is my profession Isabé, amongst others” and a brief smile flickers on her lips. It seems that for good or ill, Eleanor Forrestier will forever be part of our lives.

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mischiefandi · 6 years

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I’M FUCKINGGG DONE YOU GUYYYYYYZZZZZZZZZZZZZ please read for info and love

It’s official, exams are finally over for me, I get my grades in week! Prepare yourselves because this means I will be hyperactive on here for two full weeks. You’ve been warned lmao. I’m writing tonight but I don’t really know which fic to start with.

I’ve begun writing all three of my coming soons but I don't know which one you want to see the most (first), which is why I am gonna have to ask you guys to tell me. Please please please tell me which one you want to read first, it would really help me out, I wanna make you guys happy and I want to thank you for being so patient with me. Click Here to tell me which one you want to read first! It would mean the world to me! I plan on getting you a fic either by tomorrow or by Thursday!

Now that that’s out of the way, I wanna do a little something. To celebrate my official return to Tumblr and in light of quite a lot of negativity and hate spreading on here these past few weeks, I wanted to send love and thank the people who have been with me every single step of the way, so buckle up because there are quite a few...

@redstringlovers Sammie my loveeeeeeee <3 We started talking in April and I am so glad I had the courage to approach you. You have become one of my closest friends in all honesty and in such a short amount of time, you got me to open up to you and laugh with you and trust you, so thank you so very much for being such a wonderful friend and an awesome person, I love you so so much and I can’t imagine my life without you in it! (and Shane Dawson, but, that’s a given...)

@hellogoodbyebitch Kat. I honestly can’t tell you how much I enjoy talking to you. You’re always supportive, always kind and considerate, you make me laugh (especially with your punk songs), you’re a kind and good person (you really are) and T deserves you. I love you so much, you have become a huge part of my life and I am so grateful to have you as a friend.

@dumbass-stilinski Hiya Steff :) I wanted to tell you that some days are really hard for me but you have managed to make me laugh and smile and breathe when no one else could. Thank you for getting me obsessed with the 5sos’ album (I fully believe Michael will fall involve with you), I really cherish our friendship, love ya!

@rxppmxtch okay granted, we haven’t been talking for very long, but I honestly think of you as a friend and I am super excited to get to know you even more and have many many more fun convos with you about the World Cup and other very “interesting” subjects ;)

@honeymoonmuke Hannah, it goes without saying that you are a beautiful soul inside and out, and I really want to thank you for always being there for me. If I can ever return the favour, please don’t hesitate to tell me? I am here for you whenever you need, thank you for being so supportive and understanding and patient and ugh I have no words to describe just how much better you have made things in my life, thank you a million times, thank you *insert hundreds of pink hearts

@dylanobemineforever Hi! Yes you are on this list because dude, even though we’ve only had a few interactions, I hope there will be many more and I want you to know that you are a very cool person that I can’t wait to get to know better.

@rememberstilinski okay, I couldn’t not put you on this list because kenz, I really really love you. We didn’t talk much but honestly, you are such a kind and nice person, I hope your life is going well and you’re doing good (more than good, I want you to be happy!!). I want you to remember that whenever you feel ready to come talk (absolutely no pressure), I will be here and I will be super happy to shower you with love and stupid puns. Love uuuu

@sumcp It comes to my attention that we’ve never actually talked before, like a real conversation but dude we should!! You seem totally awesome and fun and sweet and your rb on my fics MAKE MY DAY, you have no idea how much it means to me that you even read them! You’re super kind whenever you interact with me and I really appreciate it! DM me whenever!

@itsbilescallmebiles Okay Weird Al, I legit cried when you came back, literal tears and I am SOOOOOO happy you are! I missed you like crazy and we had only been talking for three weeks, that’s crazy! That just shows how much of an attaching person you are and how wonderful your personality is, I know I love it and I really fucking love you. Thank you for being there and supporting me through dark times, I’m just so happy you’re back from the dead dude, here’s to a long and happy friendship in the same timezone

@belleknows Bel! My exams are finally over so as of today I am officially DMing you! I can’t wait to get to know this beautiful person you are and develop a friendship with you! I hope you’re having a great day!

@spxderbarnes Em :)) sweetie!! First off thank you for the masterpiece that is your fic Spontaneous Love, it really does make me smile a lot and it means more to me than you think, second, I love talking to you so much! You’re nice and funny and kind and yeah I love you to bits <3

@susybird Susy honey, I hope it’s going really well with your little ones, I really admire you for taking this kind of stuff on, its honestly inspiring and it just shows how much of an incredible and selfless soul you are! I miss you that’s for sure, but know that we are super excited for this newest addition to your little family and we love you <3 I’m super happy for you and I can’t wait to get an update on how everything’s going. Love you and your positivity and your kindness

Finally, hugeee shoutout to these beautiful people right here @rumoured-whispers @writteninthestarsandthesky @hyperactive2411 @jurrasicpork @flirtstiles @parislight and @oceansirens for reminding me every day of why I have this blog. You guys are always so sweet, you support me every day and make life better, you really do. Don’t think you go unnoticed, trust me you don’t. Thank you all so much, I love you guys!

Okay this was my little positivity fluffy overflow thingy, hahhaa I’m sorry if I didn't mention you or anything, its probably because we don't really talk! I love each and every one of these people and they are all the bestest <3 I hope every single person in the world and on Tumblr is having the best day ever, if you’re not, here is a huge hug and loads of kisses :)

So quick lil reminder, pls go here to help me out?? thank you guys so much (it’s just the 1 question I swear) CLICK HERE

Lots of Love, V

#I'm backkk #exams are over #positivity and love to everyone #have a great day #or night!#love uuuuu #help me out tho?#survey #blue moon #mine #ngeha2am #v writes #v rambles #whoops

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bluesakura007 · 3 years

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Lilium - Khan Noonien Singh x OC

Summary: The cryotube which Khan has been kept in after being sentenced for his part in the events of STID has malfunctioned, to the point where he’s hanging on to life itself by a thread. All that’s left for commander Zinalya Hamilton to do is to visit him in this last moments, to make one final farewell...

Warnings: ANGST and character death. Seriously, this is probably the most angsty thing I’ve ever written lmao. And there’s also a few mentions of alcohol abuse.

A/N: This is absolutely definitely NOT the real series of events that happens in my Khan x OC ship, it’s honestly just a what-if AU idea that suddenly popped up in my head. The only real series of events in the story of Zinalya x Khan that isn’t AU is the happy ending of Undeniable. ^^

It was in the late evening stage of the day when captain Jim Kirk received the message from Starfleet Command.

Uhura had been the one to send it through to his quarters, without opening the message herself, upon its arrival in the communication systems of the USS Enterprise. As you probably would have guessed, he wasn't expecting its melancholy contents at all - due to this origin source of the message being Starfleet Command, he initially believed before opening it that it would be a set of new orders for a diplomatic mission to carry out, but the thing is he couldn’t have been more wrong if he tried.

He soon found himself affected by this melancholy content of the message; not only was there a serious recent development to contend with that anyone would be feeling sad about to some kind of degree, but one of the first thoughts that went through his mind was the certain fact that his security chief, commander Zinalya Hamilton, wouldn’t be pleased about it in the slightest.

"You wanted to see me sir-" This security chief herself began to say, but she abruptly stopped in mid-sentence upon seeing the scene before her. She’d just entered into one of the Enterprise’s meeting rooms later that night at the end of her duty shift, having been asked by Kirk to come due to him having something to tell her, but what she hadn’t been expecting was for the other seven senior officer comrades to additionally all be in there, standing around said meeting room with their captain. Scotty, Pavel, Sulu, Spock, Uhura, Bones and Carol Marcus.

"Evening, Zin." Said Dr. McCoy, his voice somewhat somber.

"Hey." She greeted in reply, before a small joking smile appeared on her face. "This isn’t some kind of intervention is it? I mean lately I’ve gotten better with my... ethanol problem, ask anyone." Zinalya still suffered from bouts of longing and hopeless desperation every few days or weeks over the absence of the man who, to put a long story short, she wanted to end up in a relationship with.

Her plan that she’d executed two years prior, back in 2259, was an attempt to convince the Federation court who’d carried out Khan Noonien Singh’s tribunal - after his fear and sorrow-induced retaliation against Alexander Marcus for the magnitude of this admiral’s manipulation against him - to allow the two of them to be sentenced to an exile together on a distant planet with his seventy-two comrades after she’d found herself helplessly falling for him a couple of days or so after he was captured on Kronos, so that they could be with each other and so that he and his fellow Augment friends could start the new life that they’d been looking forward to since the 1990s.

However, this plan of hers had failed, and he was instead sentenced to be placed back into cryogenic stasis and stored with the other seventy-two with no end date to this sentence. Over time, Zinalya’s frustration and despair at the injustice of this situation, the only man who’d ever meant that much to her romantically being taken away and effectively kept in an icy coma most likely until the end of time, had driven her into a reliance upon vodka, beer and sometimes Romulan ale for the purpose of numbing the pain of her now never getting the chance to pursue that possible relationship with Khan. Nowadays, she still smiled less than she used to and still suffered from these sad nights caused by her trains of thought about him, but over nearly the last year she’d been trying to kick the booze habit in the realisation that it was anything but good for her.

"No, it’s not an intervention. But you should probably sit down and brace yourself - what we’re about to day is pretty serious, and to be honest you’re not gonna like it." The CMO answered, the somber tone in his voice not dissipating.

"Okay." Currently a little bit confused at this, she pulled up one of the chairs in front of the table in the middle of this meeting room and perched herself in it. Kirk, Uhura and Chekov were the ones sitting in three more chairs, while the others remained standing in various places around them.

It was Jim’s turn to speak and to begin the revelation of what the communication received earlier had said, but for a couple of moments he was stuck for how exactly to phrase the things he was going to say in the next few seconds. "I was sent a message a couple of hours ago from Starfleet Command: you know that facility in New York where Khan’s been kept with those others...?"

"Yeah, Sierra-Lambda 3. Why?" She momentarily felt a tiny spark of hopefulness at the word “been”, a past tense word, but then she remembered what Bones had just said about how this news that was about to be revealed wasn’t going to be something she’d like in the same amount of time, which was half of a second.

"Well, the message said something’s gone wrong with his cryotube. It’s gone very wrong." Now came the most difficult part of the explanation. The commanding officer took another momentary pause to let out a tiny, almost inaudible sigh of anticipation. "Do you remember how we found out a couple of months after the whole incident that twelve of his friends in the other tubes had died at some point and rounded down their total numbers to seventy-three?"

"Yeah...?" Zinalya was beginning to have a bad feeling about where this conversation was going.

"The thing is, the same kind of errors that threw those twelve tubes out of whack have happened to Khan’s, too." Said McCoy gently. "It's 'cause those things are old technology, so it's a little less easy to keep all of 'em maintained. The life support systems of his cryotube have picked up something in their code after being used for the last couple of centuries ish before three years ago: that life support system just started breaking down."

"The doctors and researchers at the facility in charge of keeping an eye on him and the others tried everything they could to stop it. They prevented him from getting killed, but the malfunction of his life support in the tube has apparently still gotten away with weakening his lungs and heart, and he's... been taken to a hospital in the city." With this same tone, Pavel picked up some of the rest of the explanation from there, being one of her two closest friends. And then there came the underlining fact of the whole thing. The words that the others had all been dreading to tell her the most. "Khan's dying."

"What...?" After having a few of her own seconds of silence upon hearing this, Zinalya's vocal volume was not that much higher than a whisper. "No, he can't be, they must've made some kind of mistake. I mean he's an Augment. He's a superman, as McCoy called him - he's strong. He wouldn't be killed off by something like this."

"It's what killed off those twelve who'd died in the time before he was first woken up in this century, and he's become a victim of the same thing." Scotty, the closest of these two friends, replied to her denial. His eyes contained a sadness born out of his concern for what this matter was going to mean for her emotional state. "They say they've managed to maintain all of the others and these kinds of errors are rare nowadays, but he ended up being on the receiving end of that rarity."

"The doctors at the hospital have managed to save him for the time being and they've given him some sedatives to make it as painless as possible for him, but they've only saved him for a short amount of time. They've said he's got about a day left to live, two at a push." Added Kirk solemnly.

This couldn't be happening, especially not when Zin's time with Khan had been so short. Only a little bit over a week, to be more specific. "So that's it? He's been through so much, practically through hell, and this is how it ends?" Her voice gradually began to raise as she spoke, a noticeable sense of anger creeping into it as well.

"Those guys at the hospital and Sierra-Lambda 3 did everything they could to save him, like Chekov said." Uhura responded, this same kind of sadness in the chief engineer's eyes showing up in her own, as well. "They tried their best, Zinalya."

"Well they should've tried harder!" The half human-half Trill shouted back, her previous frustrations of feeling helpless against the impossibility of her and Khan being able to be together amplifying itself tenfold in this moment. However, she soon looked back on this exclamation a second later in regret, as she realised just as soon that her crewmates were just as unable to stop this as she was. "Christ, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled like that; I know it's not your fault." Her voice wavered at the back of her throat as she found herself involuntarily taking a breath afterwards.

"If we found out that someone close to any of the rest of us was dying we'd be feeling the same way as well." Replied Carol in reassurance.

"You must have held a great amount of endearment towards Khan." Said Spock. Normally he wouldn't be one to get involved in the emotional side of the matter at hand, but if there was anything he'd learned from his Enterprise comrades over the last few years it was that there were times when the decent thing to do was to step up and offer consoling insights into this emotional side. "I am very sorry for you having to face this development, commander Hamilton." The concern on the others' faces was fading into life on his.

"He must've meant quite a lot to you." Sulu gave his own respects.

"People all around me are going through their relationships and everything's coming up sweet and rosey for them, and what the hell do I get left with?" Commented Zinalya bitterly, stopping for a moment before reluctantly releasing one last word in a somewhat more hushed tone. "Nothing."

"I'm sorry, Zinalya." Said Scotty, his own voice additionally a little bit more quiet compared to before. It then dropped again by another notch or two. "We all are."

"Yeah - it's not exactly a mystery how much you were missing him once he'd been sent off to dreamland." Bones' voice didn't contain his usual snarkiness, and was instead laced with the same kind of sympathy which was now mirrored in the voices of the others.

"The message also said we can divert our course to go back to Earth so you can see him if you want, but it's your call. It's up to you whether or not we go." Jim told her.

"I want to see him." Her answer came about five or six seconds later, once again at the volume level which was not that much higher than a mere whisper, while without her consciously realising it, both of her eyes had begun misting up. "So I can say goodbye to him one last time."

The immaculately polished white floors of the corridors in this hospital in New York, as a result, reflected the images of Zinalya, Pavel and Scotty just as perfectly. Sounds that were a cross of sorts between a thump and a click were produced as the heels and soles of their shoes made contact with this ground surface every half of a second, the trio's feet guiding them through the halls towards a certain wing and, once they got there, a certain room, now that they were past the entrance and had found out which room this was. By now they were up on the ninth floor, and of course during their journey through the hospital various doctors, nurses and orderlies had walked past them down both directions of the corridors. The hair and clothes of the three were coated in a layer of wetness because of the fact that they'd just come indoors from the heavy downpour of rain going on outside.

"Do you want us to come in with you?" Asked the Russian, the three of them now standing in front of the door they were looking for. It was the next day on from the revelation to Zin about what the matter at hand was, and after she'd told the others that she wanted to see the man behind this door for the final instance, Kirk had allowed Mr. Sulu to turn the ship around so that they could head back to Earth in order to make this wish happen.

"I'd prefer it if me and Khan were alone." This same woman gave her reply.

"Alright. We'll stay out here and wait for you; just take as long as you want with him, lassie." The engineer told her in a soft and benign tone, giving her a consoling hug in advance which Pavel, in addition, contributed to by joining in.

Taking a moment to psyche herself up for whatever she was about to see next, she took another couple of steps closer towards the door and turned its gleaming metal knob to enter through it and into the room, with the two accompanying her standing back so as to carry out the part where they waited for her.

She definitely needed this brief process of psyching herself up: as soon as she opened the door and stepped in as she did so, the first thing that her green eyes landed on were Khan's own turquoise ones looking back at her, their lids half closed most likely out of exhaustion from his current condition.

It was only to a slight degree, but his normally flawlessly combed jet black hair was a little bit less so. However, there were much bigger changes than this to his appearance compared to the last time she saw him that grabbed her attention more quickly. His skin was pale but not the same kind of paleness that he usually possessed anyway; this kind of pale skin colour he had at the moment was the ghostly kind, and normally there was a sort of twinkle of vigour and depth in his eyes like a shark ready to strike, but that twinkle seemed to have disappeared completely. On some parts of his bare chest were respiration and heart rate monitors with intravenous drips, in addition, being located on his left forearm and the left side of his neck, all of which connected to thin plastic wires that snaked around his torso on his bed. The IVs must have been a solution to another aspect of his new state of health: apparently it had also been reported in the message to Kirk that Khan was too weak even to eat or drink anything. A nasal cannula was coiled around his face just underneath his nose and around the back of his ears and the upper half of his neck, no doubt as a means of helping with the weakening of his lungs.

Seeing him like this made Zinalya feel like she wanted to cry. She'd managed to mostly keep herself from doing this the previous night after she'd heard about his state and had predominantly kept herself calm and collected once she'd gone to bed, but no matter how much she'd tried, actually seeing Khan this weak was nonetheless worse than when she'd pictured it in her mind.

"You must be the commander." Said one of the two nurses who were tending to him right now, just finishing up with checking on his heart rate monitor which was quietly beeping away in the background. It sounded marginally slow.

"That's me." Replied Zin, doing her best to ignore the stinging sensation in the back of her eyes. "Is it okay if the two of us are left alone for a few minutes?"

Diverting his gaze from this officer, Khan looked up at this nurse who'd just spoken, and even though he didn't say anything out loud, he gave a small nod of his head to indicate that this was indeed okay - he trusted her.

The nurse nodded her own head, more noticeably and less slowly. "Alright. We'll be on duty outside." She gave a brief, sympathetic smile before she nodded towards the door while looking at the other nurse on the other side of the room, the two of them making for the door and exiting through it.

To the right of the room were tall glass windows, through which the rain downpour outside could be seen running down it and down the gleaming skyscrapers nearby, and to the left was a vase of white lilies on a white table, these flowers' presence probably being a personal touch for whichever patient might be there. The sunlight outside was faint but was of a colour temperature that stood on the threshold between warmth and coldness.

"It's good to see you, Zinalya." He managed to get these words out, albeit a little bit slowly. From the sound of it, his current condition hadn't affected the baritone pitch of his voice.

She moved across the room towards him and sat down in the chair to the left of his bed, stuck for the words to respond with as she was still in the process of trying to get past the feeling caused by seeing him in such a weak state. "You haven't got any idea how much I'm glad to see you too." She eventually released these words of her own, while the rain could be audibly heard, as well. It was like a curtain of soft, calming white noise representing the world of nature. Although there was the occasional equally soft rumble of some of the dark clouds producing this rain off in the distance, this actually added more to this tranquil atmosphere than it took away; it contributed a sense of depth to the noise.

"How long ago was it, when we last met...?"

"It's 2261 now, so that was two years ago." Answered Zin. "What was the... the first thing you're able to remember happening after getting woken up this time?" She asked her own question a bit hesitantly, as she herself was feeling purely dreadful about this situation so she was reluctant to imagine how he was feeling about the fact that he was dying. From the last few seconds that she’d spent looking at him, her eyes had caught sight of him seemingly holding a white lily in his right hand, not unlike the ones in the vase nearby.

"I have very vague images of being transported to this hospital, but the first clear memory that I have from this most recent awakening is coming to in this bed and being told about my... circumstances for being brought here."

"Did they also send my message ahead to you?" This previous night shortly after the revelation, at her behest, Kirk had sent a reply to the message from Starfleet Command asking for the hospital staff in charge of looking after Khan for his last few days to tell him that Zinalya was on her way to see him.

"They did - that’s why I have this." It took a moment, but he slowly, weakly raised up his right hand, the one that was holding the lily, and loosened some of his grip on it. "Once I knew you were coming, I tried to get up and retrieve a flower for you from the grounds outside, but I was stopped before I’d even finished sitting upright. In fairness, I highly doubt I would have been physically able to complete that task regardless." At first, the small smile which then adorned Khan’s features was created out of the dry humour of this statement he’d just made, but it was soon plain to see that it was additionally born from the fact that, as he’d said a few seconds beforehand, he felt glad to see Zinalya. "One of the nurses agreed to retrieve it for me instead."

As she reached out and took the snowy white flower from his hand, feeling a little bit of the surface of its petals on her fingers, this was the moment when the tears that had previously just been a sting deep down in the back of her eye sockets came into being at the top of both of her cheeks.

"Why did this whole cryotube malfunction have to happen, huh?" Asked Zin, using her own dry humour with a tiny chuckle - one that faded away again very quickly and afterwards became replaced by a sorrowful frown. "Why did you have to go and do this...?" The left one went that little bit further but both of these tears that had now materialised swam down the rest of her cheeks' length.

Although his eyes looked sunken as continuous outward reinforcement of his frailness, the concern showing up inside of them at the sight of this fresh wettening of her face was obvious. Still with some slight difficulty, he once again raised the hand he'd been using until now to hold the flower and tenderly wiped away the tear on the right side of her face, then the left, with his thumb. "I don't know why this had to happen. I suppose fate has chosen me as its new plaything."

"This is weird, too: the last time I saw you was two years ago, but talking to you now's like I only saw you last week or something." Zinalya admitted what she was thinking out loud.

"It's almost funny - I was thinking the same thing." He replied.

"You and me are going to fight this all the way, Khan." She said afterwards determinedly. "We'll find the best medical minds in the entire Federation and we'll go as far as we can go with this."

"That's the only obstacle in our path: there's not that far we can go with the matter." The Augment took a breath, the latest look in his eyes showing up at this moment being one of the softness which he reserved for her. The only woman in this century who'd shown him both clear benevolence and full understanding of his motives and pain back in 2259. "I've been told that this is the end of the line so as to speak, and that there's nothing else able to be done for me except for allowing me to die peacefully."

"You can't die. I mean after all that stuff you and me have been through, you just can't." She used her right hand to wipe this wetness from the tears away from her face, though she knew it was an exercise in futility as there was more coming, while still clutching the lily in her left. "I don't want you to die." After a pregnant pause, she uttered the simple truth of her emotional turmoil.

"I'm sorry Zinalya. I don't want to leave you either, but this appears to be the hand that I've been dealt nonetheless." He winced in the pain from the strength required while doing so, making her wish as she heard it that he'd just continued to stay still, but Khan turned to his right ever so slightly and reached out his left hand to hold hers comfortingly, this physical contact with him easing the sadness inside her mind to this same ever so slight degree. "You were a happy dream during those days when I needed you the most." It made him wish he'd had Zin in his life before the first 23rd century awakening, before his escape with his companions aboard the SS Botany Bay in 1996, as a saviour to make the process back then of him trying to forget some of the nightmarish days of his adolescence that little bit easier. These friends of his were people he could count on and who he trusted with his life, but Zinalya's presence seemed to unlock a new level of the ability to be himself and to say what was going on in his heart. "Those moments with you have been some of the best ones that I can remember." A tear from his own eyes suddenly showed up just beneath the right one.

Leaving the lily in her lap, she grasped on to his hand with the other one, so that she could now hold it with both. Knowing that, in turn, she too could entirely and completely be herself around him, she allowed herself to let loose with the amount of tears she shed. "I can't remember a time I didn't feel excited when I was around you. You're not just handsome and basically a sweetheart, you're also a man who brings exhilaration and adventure in your wake."

"I'm afraid flattery won't postpone my death date." He remarked in reply to this with another of his chuckles, putting more dry humour to use. He was, however, still touched by her words.

"No but at least I gave it a shot." She managed to raise a tiny smile herself. Two could play at this game.

While his tear traversed his cheek, his breathing became hitched. The heart rate monitor had also slowed somewhat now. "Do you think I'll see her?"

"Who, your mum?" The half Trill hybrid acted on the guess forming in her brain at who he meant by the word 'her'.

He nodded. "I think I might be about to see her again, and Tanvir, but the truth of that possibility lies in whether what people believe about the existence of hell and heaven is true, and even then it’s a question of which religion in particular was correct." He took a breath once he’d finished speaking - evidently long sentences were getting the better of him somewhat now that he was on death’s doorstep.

Zinalya shook her head, while still not being able to stop the full onslaught of the many tears she was releasing. "I don’t know." Her voice, understandably, was strained. "I don’t know what’s going to be waiting for you, but if heaven and hell do exist then whoever’s in charge up there had better send you to heaven, or at least some kind of medium place between the two."

"Or else you’ll confront them yourself?"

"If it’d mean you getting a chance at a good afterlife, yeah."

Over the next few seconds, he managed to conjure up another small smile. "Or perhaps the beliefs about reincarnation are true, and some time from now I could be reborn as a horse."

"Why a horse?"

"I think running through wide open fields with the wind soaring through my mane will be fun. But whichever kind of afterlife awaits me, I hope I get to see Tanvir and my mother again." He said poignantly. He was only a toddler when Sarina Kaur died, so not only would he be happy at the prospect of interacting with her once more after all these years, but based on the amount of affection she’d shown to him during those first happy years of his life, he had a feeling that she’d be just as joyous to see her little boy again, all grown up. And he'd be doubly happy if he also got the chance to be reunited with probably the greatest friend he'd ever had before said friend's death at the age of fifteen, the boy who had been the best at helping him, and some of the others, for that matter, with trying to get past the emotional turbulences caused by their captivity at the hands of the scientists who'd given them their abilities. "And it'll be nice if I meet Noonien there, as well." Noonien Prasad, although not related to Khan by blood due to the fact that the latter hadn't been conceived from a biological father of any kind, was Sarina's boyfriend until his own death from cancer while she was pregnant, so because of this closeness to her he would've most likely ended up becoming a fatherly figure.

"I hope so too, you deserve to find all three of them." Without fully realising it, the grip of both of her hands on the one of Khan’s she was still grasping tightened. "I’ve heard about this belief called karma, where people are rewarded in their next life depending on how much they suffered in the last one - basically what goes around comes around."

"The sum of a person’s actions." He gave another nod of his head, in recognition of this karma belief after having grown up in India during his childhood and, as a result, being taught about the Hindu faith from an early age. Throughout his life he’d never really followed any kind of religion himself, so he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d be allowed to get in on the action of heaven or reincarnation due to not being a believer. Whether what was coming for him was just a black void which he wouldn’t even consciously be aware of at all. Basically, when there are as many different religious beliefs and ways of faith floating around as there were here on Earth, including atheism, it tends to leave your mind in a bit of a jumble when you try to predict what will happen to you after your eventual demise.

Suddenly, his hitched breathing made a return, more so than it had been the last time.

"No, no, Khan, you can’t go." Said Zinalya, her own voice now becoming even more strained. Her grip on his hand became more soft and gentle again. "Whether you’ve got the power to stop this or not, you still can’t just go!"

As an attempt to comfort her again, his maximum moving speed was still rather slow but he released this hand from hers and used both of his to reach upwards towards her face, gently caressing his fingers against the sides of her cheeks. "To speak truthfully, I’ve spent a fair while in the past wondering how I was going to die, yet this way is possibly one of the ones I expected the least." His eyes conveyed a deep kind of fearfulness which she'd never seen from him until now, and which rocked him to his core. A pause set in for a moment or two. "I don't want to die either."

"Well you're not going to!" She exclaimed defiantly, especially upon noticing that his heart monitor had slowed down again by another couple of notches. Her face was a mess of clammy tears that poured out from the depths of her heart; she could feel both a small release in pressure and a tightening of it simultaneously, in the depths of this heart of hers, as she carried on releasing said tears. There was nothing she could do to stop them even in the slightest. "Remember that scheme I tried out back then, during the trial? How we were going to take each other's hand and run off to some new place once it was all over? We were going to be free to start anew there. There was going to be pretty much nothing we couldn't do together..." The last moments with each other were upon them, meaning Zin was now more desperate than she'd ever been so far to not let the life force of the man she adored sail away down the river. "We were going to have such good times to come..."

"Sssssssssshhhhhh..." Khan soothed, gradually retracting his hands and letting them fall down onto hers, curling his fingers around those of her own hands one final time. "There's nothing that can be done now." His pauses between sentences were growing longer. "This is the way it ends... not with a bang, but with a whimper..." He quoted from the poem The Hollow Men.

"I don't think I've ever hated poetry more than I do right now." Commented Zinalya, this latest attempt at humour to ease the pain of the matter failing to accomplish this desired effect.

"I can feel it..." He said. His voice was at its most quiet volume she'd heard over the last few minutes. "I can feel my heart getting slower, and slower, and slower..." He breathed out, with his face being moisturised by the presence of not just one but two of his own teardrops trickling from his eyes. This provided that extra yank on the young woman's heartstrings. "I love you so much, Zinalya..." Although it was at its smallest size yet, there came another return of his smile.

Hearing these words out loud left her with no other choice but to reply with another plain, simple truth. "I love you too Khan... I love you..."

She found her voice fading out as, over the next few excruciatingly painful seconds, she watched the gentle glint in his eyes as proof of his soft spot for her also fade away. He was grateful that he got to pass away not only with the subject of his endearment sitting with him but additionally while hearing such a calming sound coming from the rain outside the window.

With his eyelids closing a tiny bit more, the expression on his face drained out, and she felt his fingers around her hands go limp.

Then there was the unwavering sound of the monitor flatlining.

He was gone.

Now that there was no one left in the room to offer reassurance, her newfound lack of control over her crying reached an all-time high. Zinalya realised in her mind that this must have been similar to the sadness Sarina was feeling when Noonien died back in 1969, but what she additionally realised was that at the time - although, again, he wasn’t a blood relative to Khan - Sarina had a baby on the way and still had a continuation of her bloodline to love and look after.

Zin didn’t have any of that. The future prospect of accomplishing her life goal of having her own children someday or even just getting married had died with this “superman”. Not to mention the fact that she’d finally found a man who she felt could have been Mr. Right, which had been made even better by him having revealed these two years ago that he experienced the same emotions about her in return, and yet he’d been well and truly ripped away from her forever by nothing more than a malfunction of the cryotube within which he had spent these years until now being kept asleep.

Despite her hand currently trembling, she reached out her left hand and tenderly used her thumb and index finger to fully close his eyelids. There was a sort of peaceful and serene look about him; maybe one could pretend that he was just sleeping again with his eyes in this state of being completely shut.

With her not knowing whether or not she’d have any other emotion left in her once she was done, Zinalya’s head dropped as she began to sob.

#khan x oc #khan noonien singh #khanbatch #khan singh #star trek into darkness #star trek #aos #star trek aos #into darkness #stid #into darkness khan #khan noonien singh x oc #benedict cumberbatch

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Tales from the Holodeck: DS9 Fanfic: Jake’s Teleplay

In celebration of A Star to Steer Her By’s fourth anniversary, we did what pretty much all theaters are doing right now and put together a little Zoom reading. This time around, our latest fanfics in our “Tales from the Holodeck” series are all Deep Space Nine teleplays that you can listen to us cold read here (this one starts at 37:07), complete with really dodgy attempts at accents! Follow along with Jake’s teleplay below or read with your friends with your own dodgy accents!

[images © Paramount/CBS]

“Affairs of State”

By Jake

Random pick: Dax

SCENE 1 - INT. QUARKS BAR - LATE

The bar is nearly empty. QUARK is wiping down the bar top as a few Ferengi bartenders clear tables. MORN rises from a stupor and stumbles towards the exit. An older Klingon woman, G'RELL, sits, passed out, at a table with an empty bottle of blood wine still in her grasp. The only remaining activity in the bar is a raucous game of Tongo being played in the casino area.

Seated around the Tongo wheel are two drunk Ferengi, a Pakled, a Bajoran, and Lieutenant DAX. DAX is surrounded by stacks of Latinum, while the other competitors wield much smaller stacks; it's clearly been a good night for her.

FERENGI 1: See!? I told you she had a full consortium!

FERENGI 2: Then why didn't you evade?

FERENGI 1: Because I was following you, you fool!

DAX: It's alright, you'll get me on the next hand.

QUARK: (Approaching) Maybe, but not tonight. It's a half hour passed closing. Even Morn's gone home.

FERENGI 2: But I'm down nearly two hundred strips!

QUARK: And you can earn it back with double shifts for the next month. Now, let's break it up.

DAX: Same time next week, gentlemen?

The other gamblers mumble as they gather their meager stacks of Latinum, and begin to make their way to the exit. DAX stands and begins to count her winnings.

QUARK: I'd be happy to bank that for you in my safe. For a small storage fee, of course.

DAX: That won't be necessary.

DAX notices the passed out G'RELL

DAX: What about her?

QUARK looks over, surprised. He hadn't noticed G'RELL.

QUARK: (Under his breath) Quietest Klingon I've ever seen. (Louder, approaching G'RELL) Miss? Miss? The bar's closed. You don't have to go to your quarters, but you-

G'RELL shoots up, as awake and sober as a Bajoran Vedek. In a single movement she withdraws a dagger with one hand, while pulling QUARK in with the other. In an instant she has the knife to QUARK's throat.

QUARK: (Continuing, Terrified) -can stay as long as you like.

DAX: (Assertively) Mev'yap!

G'RELL looks up at DAX.

G'RELL: And what are you going to do to stop me, girl?

DAX: Keep holding that knife to his throat and find out.

QUARK: (Trembling) Yeah, Dax, t-tell her what happened to the last Klingon who tried to attack me in my own bar!

DAX: Not now, Quark!

G'RELL smiles and slowly releases her grasp on QUARK. QUARK hurries away and cowers behind DAX.

G'RELL: So you really are Dax. It would seem your blood hasn't completely turned to water after all.

DAX: It seems you have me at a disadvantage.

G'RELL: In more ways than one, perhaps.

She gestures with her free hand. Two other Klingons emerge on the second floor of the bar, armed with Disruptors.

G'RELL: Relax. The legendary Dax has nothing to fear from me. They're only here for my protection.

She gestures again, and the men slink back into the shadows.

G'RELL: You can never be too careful when there's a price on your head.

DAX: Wanted for assaulting defenseless bartenders?

G'RELL: Nothing so... (Eyeing QUARK) Pathetic. No, I have the honor of being the enemy of the coward, Gowron.

QUARK: You and half the quadrant, lady!

G'RELL growls at QUARK and he retreats behind DAX.

G'RELL: (Sharply) The Ferengi will stay its tongue, or I will stay it for him. (To DAX) Gowron seeks to have me killed not for anything I've done, but for who I am. For I am the rightful leader of the Klingon people by right of birth.

QUARK lets out a guffaw.

QUARK: (Mockingly) And who are you, wife of Khaless, eater of planets?

G'RELL: (Ignoring Quark) I am G'Rell. (Pausing dramatically) Daughter of Dax.

FADE TO OPENING CREDITS.

SCENE 2 - INT. SISKO'S OFFICE

SISKO stands behind his desk looking out the window. Dax and the Klingon, G'RELL, are sitting in front of the desk.

SISKO: Well, Dax, is it true?

DAX: It's true that Curzon had a romantic relationship with a Klingon woman during the Khitomer negotiations. It would have been considered a scandal and could have derailed the entire conference if it had come out, so it was kept quiet, and the two never revealed the affair.

SISKO: (Turing to face G'RELL) And you claim to be the... fruit... of this union.

G'RELL: Yes. I was raised in secret, even from my father. There is no honor for a bastard girl in the Empire.

SISKO: I still don't see how this makes you "The rightful chancellor"?

DAX: If G'Rell is who she says she is-

G'RELL: (Angrily) Do you doubt me?!

SISKO raises his hand calmly, G'RELL backs down.

DAX: (Continuing) You see, the woman Curzon had the affair with was Azetbur, the Klingon high chancellor.

SISKO can't help but smile at this.

SISKO: The Klingon high chancellor?! Boy, Old Man, you sure can pick 'em. Woo!

G'RELL: Now you can see why the affair was kept secret.

SISKO: But I thought women weren't allowed to serve as chancellor.

DAX: They aren't... anymore. Azetbur's successor, K'mpec, pushed for conservative reforms to, in his words, "Return Qo'noS to its former glory."

G'RELL spits in disgust at the mention of K'mpec's name. It's a sore subject.

G'RELL: How quickly my people forget. The modern Empire itself was united by a female chancellor! The petaq who stand in the great hall today do so on the shoulders of women like my mother.

DAX: Of that there's no doubt. What I don't understand, G'Rell, is how that makes you the rightful chancellor. You said yourself that your birth was kept a secret. Without acknowledgement you're not even eligible to inherit property, let alone titles, even if a woman could serve as chancellor.

G'RELL: Normally that would be true, but my mother did, in fact, acknowledge me in her will, and named me as her sole heir. But after her death, K'mpec and his allies had most of her documents destroyed, and I was unable to press my claim. I resigned myself to the life of a houseless warrior; my honor would have to be earned without my family name. But I now believe that Gowron has discovered a remaining copy of her will.

SISKO: What makes you think that?

G'RELL: (Smiling wryly) The two assassins I gutted trying to sneak into my bedchamber!

G'RELL lets out a boisterous belly laugh.

G'RELL: Leave it to a petaq like Gowron to hire someone else to do his dirty work, and incompetents at that!

DAX: Benjamin, if it's true that the will was suppressed and had named G'Rell as heir, then she should have been given chance to perform the Right of Succession. That would make K'mpec's succession illegal under Klingon law.

G'RELL: Even today, so many years later, I would still be in my rights to challenge Gowron for control of the council. I could start putting back together the Empire my mother built.

SISKO: Wouldn't a challenge involve fighting Gowron to the death?

G'RELL laughs at this.

G'RELL: I'm not so old I couldn't still tear that coward's spine out through his throat!

SISKO and DAX exchange glances. After a moment, G'RELL's demeanor changes; she looks at DAX, gravely.

G'RELL: As far as anyone in the empire is concerned, I'm just an old warrior. I have no house of my own. No allies. But, if my true parentage became known, I have no doubt that there would be many in the Empire who would rally to my cause. My mother's name is still spoken of with honor. The House of Gorkon, though fallen, is remembered as one that brought prosperity and glory to the Empire. (She pauses) That's why I need you, Dax. Gowron will surely dismiss the will as a forgery, and paint me as a foolish old woman. But the name Dax still rings out among my people. If you were to acknowledge me as Curzon's daughter, and vouch for the will's authenticity, the council would be honor bound to hear your word and consider my claim.

DAX considers this.

DAX: Curzon made a solemn oath not to reveal his relationship with your mother. Even in this life I will not dishonor her by betraying that oath.

G'RELL: (Forcefully) It is justified if it serves to reverse an even greater dishonor.

DAX: I won't debate the finer points of the Klingon code of honor with you, but there's another problem: I didn't even know you existed until a few hours ago. Azetbur never told Curzon that she was pregnant.

G'RELL: A simple DNA test will prove that I am Curzon and Azetbur's daughter. You need only consent to the test, and testify before the council that Curzon and my mother were in a consenting relationship.

SISKO: Somehow I don't think it'll be that easy.

G'RELL: Perhaps not, but, Dax, I ask you now, for the love you once bore my mother: help me restore my family name, and do honor to her memory.

DAX takes a moment to consider it, but SISKO can see she's already made up her mind.

DAX: Benjamin-

SISKO: (Cutting her off) Leave granted. Now, you'd better see if you can find yourself a copy of that will.

DAX: I may have an idea on how to get one.

SCENE 3 - INT. QUARK'S BAR - DAY

FADE UP on a crowded midday Quark's. DAX is seated with G'RELL at a small table. DAX is in civilian clothes and studying a PADD while nursing a Raktajino. QUARK stands behind the bar while O'BRIEN and BASHIR are sipping Ales.

O'BRIEN: She doesn't look half Trill.

BASHIR: She definitely is, the DNA test proved it. I did detect evidence that she'd had some cosmetic work done, perhaps to cover spots.

O'BRIEN: Does she have... you know... the pouch?

BASHIR: Really, Chief?

O'BRIEN: I'm just curious is all! I still can't believe Dax was in a relationship with the Klingon high chancellor.

BASHIR: Knowing what we do about Curzon, does it really surprise you?

QUARK: (Barging into the conversation) She has no idea what she's getting herself into. These Klingons don't joke around. When I faced down a Klingon warrior in the Great Hall, it was me or him; life or death. I just don't think she has it in her.

O'BRIEN: Didn't you fall to your knees and beg for mercy?

QUARK: (Offended) Where'd you hear that?!

BASHIR: Rom | O'BRIEN: Rom

QUARK: (Under his breath) Worthless Ingrate. (To O'BRIEN and BASHIR) Well, for your information: I didn't "beg for mercy" ... I fully accepted my fate. But that's exactly my point; Dax is too proud to do the smart thing.

BASHIR: I don't know, Quark, she's gone toe-to-toe with Klingon warriors before.

QUARK: Yeah, but this is Gowron. Have you seen that guy’s eyes? Even when he was saying I won the challenge I thought he was going to kill me. No... mark my words... if those two walk into the council chambers, one of them isn't walking out. Maybe both.

O'BRIEN: Well aren't you the eternal optimist.

CUT TO:

DAX and G'RELL seated at a table.

DAX: (Reading from a PADD) It's true. It's all here: Azetbur named you as her heir.

DAX hands the PADD to G'RELL, who looks it over.

G'RELL: (Smiling gleefully) Tell me again how you got this?

DAX: You said it yourself: my name still carries some weight. Plus, it pays to have a friend in the Empire who owes you a favor.

G'RELL: So it does. Still, I'm surprised Gowron would even allow anyone to know the will exists, let alone see it.

DAX: Gowron overplayed his hand when he tried to have you killed. Not only did he tip you off that he had the will, but now you're in a position where you could challenge him for the leadership. His only hope is to claim the will is forged. He can't do that unless he acknowledges that there is a will.

G'RELL nods, accepting this plot glue.

G'RELL: Our transportation should be arriving shortly. The captain served both my mother and grandfather, and practically raised me as his own daughter. I trust him. (Holding up the PADD) He's already begun spreading this quietly among the great houses. By the time we arrive, K'mpec's treachery will be well known. With your testimony, Gowron will have no choice but to accept the will's authenticity.

DAX's smile fades slightly.

DAX: And then what?

G'RELL: (As if it were even a question) Then I'll challenge Gowron for the leadership, as is my birthright!

DAX: I don't know if it'll be so simple. Even if Gowron accepts you as Azetbur's heir, there's still the matter of K'mpec's reforms that prevent women from ruling over the council.

G'RELL: But the will proves that K'mpec's succession was illegal, and his reforms will have to be declared invalid.

DAX: And that's the bigger problem. You're talking about reversing law that has existed in the Empire for sixty years. Most of the people who were involved with K'mpec's succession-

G'RELL: (Cutting in) Coup.

DAX: (Continuing) -are long dead, but the impact they've had continues. The Empire is a very different place than it was during your mother's time, and you might find more resistance than you expect.

G'RELL appears slightly defeated by this reality.

G'RELL: (Changing the subject) Jadzia... I've been wanting to ask you something... My mother told me that my father was the only man she ever loved. She never married. Did Curzon feel the same way?

DAX can't help but let out a slight chuckle. It's inappropriate and she knows it.

DAX: (abashedly) I'm sorry. Your mother was very special to Curzon, but he was a complicated man, and not without his faults.

G'RELL: I understand. Still, if he'd known about me, do you think-

DAX: Curzon said he never wanted children, Benjamin was probably the closest he ever got. But... seeing the woman you grew to be, I know he would have been proud of you.

ODO: (O.S.) Odo to Lieutenant Dax.

DAX Taps her comm badge

DAX: Go ahead Constable.

ODO: (O.S.) A Klingon Transport ship has just docked at upper pylon three. Evidently they're in a bit of a hurry and request that you proceed there immediately.

DAX: Understood. (To G'RELL) Sounds like our ride's here.

DAX and G'RELL stand and go to exit the bar. QUARK sees them leaving.

QUARK: (to himself) Qapla' ... You're gonna need it.

SCENE 4 - INT. KLINGON BRIDGE

The bridge of a standard Klingon starship. Dimly lit, with orange and red consoles glowing. Several Klingon officers are manning the various stations. At the center of the room, in the captain's chair, sits a Klingon man, KERLA. KERLA is older than G'RELL, but is in excellent shape for his age. DAX and G'RELL enter from the hatch at the rear of the room. KERLA remains seated, facing forward. DAX and G'RELL approach him.

G'RELL: Jadzia, allow me to present captain-

DAX: (Cutting her off) Kerla.

KERLA is surprised to be recognized by DAX, and his stoic demeanor fades.

KERLA: (Curtly) Have we met?

DAX: Many times, in fact. I looked a bit different then. (Extending her hand) Jadzia Dax.

KERLA ignores the offered handshake and turns back towards the view screen. He raises his arm to give an order.

KERLA: (Commanding) Mahk-cha!

The sound of the warp drive engaging.

KERLA: (To no one in particular) I advised Azetbur against getting involved with an offworlder, just as I've advised this one against this fool's errand that's likely to get us all killed.

DAX: You always were wise council.

KERLA: I was chief advisor to two chancellors, now I captain this piece of forshak. Seems the current administration has no use for my wise council.

G'RELL: Did you do as I asked?

KERLA: Of course, girl. I have sent copies of your mother's will to leaders of all of the great houses.

G'RELL: And?

KERLA: Six houses, representing four squadrons, have agreed to back your claim. The rest are still supporting Gowron.

G'RELL: (Angrily) Petaq! (Calmer) No matter, once Dax gives testimony and exposes the truth the rest will come to my side.

DAX is clearly disturbed.

DAX: You're talking about civil war, I thought you were going to challenge Gowron for control.

G'RELL lets out a hearty laugh.

G'RELL: You don't think Gowron would be foolish enough to meet me in single combat, do you? The only blades he's ever held were to cut his meals. No, Gowron is no warrior; he's a politician with the heart of a Romulan. He'll never accept my challenge. He'll let other Klingons to do the killing—and the dying—for him.

KERLA: It'll be us who'll be doing the dying if your plan doesn't work.

DAX: He's right, G'Rell. There's a lot of people with a stake in keeping the status quo. You may not be able to gather as much support as you expect.

G'RELL: Nonsense. Every true Klingon with an ounce of honor will rally to my cause once the treachery is revealed.

KERLA: Honor in the Empire doesn't mean as much as it did in your mother's time.

SCENE 5 - INT. KLINGON HIGH COUNCIL CHAMBERS, QO'NOS

GOWRON is seated at center of the great hall in the Chancellor's throne. On his shoulders he wears the cloak of his office. Around him several Counselors are engaged in a heated argument.

COUNSELOR 1: If K'mpec deliberately tried to hide the will from the council, then his succession was illegitimate!

COUNSELOR 2: These accusations are nothing but rumors!

COUNSELOR 1 waves a PADD demonstratively.

COUNSELOR 1: The evidence is right here!

GOWRON: (Bursting) Silence!

All conversation immediately stops.

GOWRON: You all sound like gaggle of old women! This so-called will of Azetbur is not only an obvious forgery, even if it were not it would make no difference! Azetbur is dead, and her alleged daughter is just that: a daughter. And a daughter has no claim-

COUNSELOR 1: But that law was put in-

GOWRON glares at COUNSELOR 1, bears his teeth, and growls. The counselor backs down.

GOWRON: Now, I'll have no more pointless-

G'RELL: (O.S.) (Shouting) I name you usurper, Gowron!

G'RELL and DAX enter the hall from the far end. They are trailed by a number of Klingon warriors, including KERLA.

GOWRON: What is the meaning of this?!

G'RELL: I am G'Rell, daughter of Azetbur, rightful chancellor of the Klingon High Council. And you are in my seat.

The room is silent for a moment as everyone attempts to take in what had just transpired. After a time, GOWRON bursts out laughing.

GOWRON: Foolish woman. You have no grounds to challenge me. Leave now. While you can still walk.

G'RELL: I have evidence to support my claim.

G'RELL gestures towards DAX, who takes a step forward.

GOWRON: Who is this offworlder?

DAX: I am Jadzia, daughter of Kela. I am host to the Dax symbiont, which once had another host known to your people: Curzon.

GOWRON: The name Curzon Dax is indeed an honored one. You, however, are just a girl. Now, what of this evidence?

DAX: Curzon Dax was par'Mach'kai to Azetbur. G'Rell is their daughter.

The crowd surrounding GOWRON begins murmuring loudly. This announcement is a scandal. After a moment, GOWRON raises his hand and the crowd falls silent once again.

GOWRON: Even if true, I fail to see how this changes anything. A half-breed bastard girl has no claim to this chair.

G'RELL: I am the legitimate heir to the House of Gorkon. I demand that my family's lands and titles be reinstated, and I lay claim to the chancellorship.

GOWRON smiles at this.

GOWRON: But how can there be a claim, if there's no claimant?

DAX is momentarily confused, but then realizes what GOWRON was saying. She turns to G'RELL in a panic. G'RELL makes eye contact with DAX, then coughs out a spurt of blood which splashes onto DAX's face. G'RELL falls to her knees, KERLA stands behind her having just buried a knife in her back. DAX lunges to catch G'RELL as she slumps forward. DAX cradles G'RELL, who is barely conscious.

G'RELL: (disoriented) Father- Did I-

DAX: You did, daughter.

G'RELL smiles and dies.

GOWRON: Congratulations, Captain Kerla, on bringing this criminal to justice.

KERLA: I did what I did for the good of the Empire.

GOWRON: We all serve the Empire. And from now on you'll be serving it from the bridge of my flagship.

DAX continues to cradle G'RELL's body, tears in her eyes.

DAX: (quietly) Ke'chaw.

GOWRON: What was that, offworlder?

DAX lays G'RELL's body on the slate floor and stands, facing GOWRON.

DAX: (louder) Ke'chaw!

GOWRON: Are you challenging me?

DAX: Defend yourself!

GOWRON: On what grounds do you make this challenge?

DAX: I claim the right of vengeance. You have taken the life of my daughter, and now I will take yours.

DAX walks to the side of the chamber and removes a Bat'leth from a rack. Several Klingons approach her as if to apprehend her, but GOWRON raises a hand. As DAX returns to the center of the room, GOWRON rises from his throne, dropping his cloak of office behind him. A nearby Klingon approaches and hands him a Bat'leth.

DAX and GOWRON meet near the center of the room. GOWRON takes a shouting lunge towards DAX, his Bat'leth meeting hers with a furious clanking of metal. DAX parries the blow and attempts to sweep his legs, but he leaps back, out of the way. GOWRON takes another swing towards DAX's midsection, but she dodges the blow. DAX swings her Bat'leth and catches GOWRON's right arm. He takes a step back, touches the blood dripping from his arm, and licks it from his finger.

GOWRON: The successor to Curzon lives up to his reputation. It's a shame you'll be the last Dax!

GOWRON rushes DAX again, taking a powerful swing at her chest. DAX ducks, and again attempts to sweep his legs, this time it works and GOWRON flips onto his back. He lets out a harrowing shout as he crashes onto the slate. DAX raises the Bat'leth over her head, and in a single powerful blow, brings the blade down onto his head, killing him.

The room remains silent. DAX falls to her knees, exhausted.

SCENE 6 - INT. DS9 OPS

KIRA and DAX are standing at the central ops console, KIRA is enthralled by the story DAX has just finished telling her. KIRA is sipping a cup of tea.

KIRA: So what did you say when they put the cloak over your back?

DAX: I didn't say anything, I was still in shock.

KIRA: You mean to tell me that you, Jadzia Dax, had just been named the Klingon High Chancellor and you didn't have anything to say?

DAX: It's customary that when the sitting chancellor falls to a challenger, the victor assumes his titles. But I don't think a room full of Klingon warriors were ready to accept me as their leader. I wouldn't have made it out of the chamber alive.

KIRA: Still, how many Trill can say they were, even for a moment, the head of the Klingon Empire?

SISKO steps out of his office, KIRA and DAX turn their attention to him. He gestures for DAX to come. She gets up.

CUT TO:

SCENE 7 - INT. SISKO'S OFFICE

DAX enters, and stands at attention, ready for a dressing-down.

SISKO: At ease, Lieutenant.

DAX relaxes, a bit. He gestures for her to sit, which she does.

SISKO: I just got off a call with not one, but three members of the Federation council, asking me why one of my officers was involved in a coup of the Klingon high council. If it were up to them you'd be spending the rest of this life in a penal colony. And I can't say I really disagree with them.

DAX: Benjamin, I-

SISKO raises his hand.

SISKO: But, Old Man, it seems the new High Chancellor has personally spoken out on your behalf, and Starfleet has decided not to pursue disciplinary action.

DAX: I'll have to send Chancellor Kor a message of thanks when I get the chance. I guess now I owe him a favor.

SISKO: I'd say so. How are you doing, otherwise?

DAX considers for a moment.

DAX: I'm... OK... I think... You know, Benjamin, in that moment, when I held G'Rell in my arms I couldn't think. I didn't think. Something just took over me. I've never felt anything like it. But in that moment, she was my daughter.

SISKO: Curzon always told me that he never wanted children.

DAX: He was telling the truth, but I know that would have liked to have known about her, and would have wanted to have been in her life. I'm just grateful that, in whatever small way, I was able to give her something of him.

THE END

—

Check out Caitlin, Ames, and Chris’s stories for more Tales from the Holodeck! Also, be sure to keep listening on SoundCloud, follow us on Facebook and Twitter, and fight with honor! Qapla’!

#star trek #Star Trek Deep Space 9 #ds9 #fanfic #teleplay #Star Trek Fanfiction #ds9 fanfiction #jadzia #dax #klingon #gowron #bat'leth

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megaphonemonday · 7 years

Text

my soul is not satisfied

I was told that it was unacceptable to leave forgetting is too long the way it is, and, given the current state of things and my inability to imagine anything but roses and rainbows for these two, I kind of agree. but dear lord work had to go in before we can get there.

read it on ao3

April

Heads hung and feet shuffled as the San Diego Padres trudged back into the clubhouse after yet another crushing defeat. Captain Mike Lawson brought up the rear.

The team was enjoying a miserable start to the regular season and morale was at an all time low.

Mike would have to be an idiot not to know he was partially (mostly) responsible for the latter and that the latter had definitely affected the former. While he was definitely an idiot about many things, baseball typically wasn’t one of them.

He’d been at a loss when they first started down this losing streak and, seven games later, still couldn’t quite figure out what to say to pull the team out of its funk. Not when he was in such a rut of his own and had been since the end of Spring Training.

In retrospect, it was something of a miracle that they’d had an okay run in Arizona, coming out of the Cactus League with more wins than losses and a solid 25-man roster.

Well, 24-man-and-1-woman roster.

Which was his whole problem, wasn’t it? Or at least the lion’s share of it.

(Not that a woman was involved, just which particular woman it was.)

He would’ve killed, or at least done some morally objectionable things, for the chance to lick his wounds in private and not be confronted with Baker’s wounded/confused face everywhere he turned, but Mike’d missed out on making it as an assassin a long time ago. So, he just had to stew in this seething mire of disappointment and jealousy and anger that he knew was entirely irrational. All while having to share a clubhouse and a dugout and what felt like his entire goddamn life with the woman.

(Mike was well aware that it was only his bruised pride that made him wish, even for a moment, that Oscar and Al had decided to send her back down until her arm was back at 100%. But that hadn’t stopped him from thinking it.

He’d always known he was an asshole, but that thought killed any hope of being the kind of asshole people liked in spite of themselves.)

“We’ll get ‘em next time,” he said, half-hearted.

Only a few guys nodded back, the rest moodily starting to undress so they could hit the showers.

Instinctively, he glanced around, hoping someone would look at him, give him a nod that said, “I got your back.” If he was being honest, he even knew who he wanted that person to be, in spite of everything.

Ginny’d already disappeared into her changing room.

It wasn’t another fucking punch to the gut.

Not at all.

Later, shivering in his ice bath, he came to terms with a few things.

1) This was his last season of professional baseball. He’d announced it to the team in Arizona, but hadn’t yet let his agent make a statement to the press. It still didn’t always feel real.

2) It didn’t matter what fucking shakeups the Front Office went through, Mike was leaving the game a Padre. He would die in this uniform if it came to that.

3) He didn’t want to go out on a low note. Which was going to be something of an uphill battle the way his season was going. It may have been years since he tasted late October air on the field, but he had also never played a first month as bad as this one.

And:

4) Christ. He was going to have to do something, wasn’t he? For at least the next five months, he was still captain of the Padres. Which meant it was his responsibility to pull his head out of his ass, stop being such a moody son of a bitch, and get the team back on track.

Which.

Mike would love to say that he was being a moody asshole for reasons that had nothing to do with his favorite pitcher, but that would be a god damn lie.

(And, Christ. Yes, he had a fucking favorite, okay?)

Even if very little remained of what’d made her his favorite in the first place. Ginny didn’t tease or prod or joke, hardly even made eye contact anymore. When he caught for her—only once of her three regular season starts so far—she followed his calls without fail, remained silent any time he decided to make a visit to the mound, her eyes cast to the ground. Mike could feel her cringe away any time he stepped too close and every single fucking time, it made his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.

Not that he didn’t deserve it because— Honestly, he still couldn’t believe it sometimes.

He’d kissed her.

Drunk and bitter about Rachel leaving him again, he’d kissed her. Probably more than a little bitter about the smiles Ginny was offering to other guys, he’d kissed her.

Guys she didn’t even know. Who didn’t deserve one shred of her attention. (Not that Mike could relate to that. At all.)

So he’d started needling her because if there was one thing Ginny Baker couldn’t do, it was resist taking the bait.

The whole process of getting from Ginny stomping up to him in the bar, fire in her eyes, to having her sandwiched between the building and his body was still a little fuzzy, even weeks later. Why wouldn’t it be when he couldn’t get the hitch of her breath into his mouth out of his head? Or the way she’d been pressed so sweetly against him, her warmth seeking his?

Mike wanted to live in those few minutes he’d had her in his arms.

Right up until Ginny flat out told him kissing him was a mistake.

Which shouldn’t have come as such a fucking shock. Honestly, what else had he expected? That she’d be thrilled to make out with some has-been who’d been nothing but awful to her the past few weeks?

It didn’t matter what he’d thought as she sighed into his mouth: that the silver lining of being told it’d take a miracle for him to walk—not crawl or be carried—off the field if he tried for more than this last season had been Ginny and her perfect fucking smile and the way she made him feel. Had been the idea that they could maybe get over the bullshit he’d thrown in their way because that was what he did best. Had been the thought that they might actually make each other happy for all they were viciously effective at the opposite.

It didn’t matter because Ginny didn’t want that.

She didn’t want him.

And that was fine. It had to be fine, even when the sudden memory of that fact sometimes made his knees want to give out more than any stress or strain from playing ever had.

Mike could be the grown up here, not that he’d done much to prove it lately. If it meant going out as a respected and valued member of his team and not the morale-killer he currently was, he could do a lot. Even if that meant locking up the mangled heart that was left to him and pretending he was doing just fine.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt like a motherfucker, though.

So, sitting in a metal tub, freezing his balls off as chunks of ice slowly melted around him, Mike Lawson came to terms with a few things. He came to terms with them and groaned out the one word that adequately encapsulated his situation.

“Fuck.”

May

“Well, Mike,” Oscar said doubtfully, already reaching for the phone in his pocket, “if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

“It is,” he affirmed with a frown.

Oscar just sighed and excused himself. No doubt to cancel some event in Mike’s honor he’d already put into motion. Mike didn’t even feel that bad. It wasn’t like the GM had asked him beforehand. Then again, Oscar’s track record with actually asking things of Mike wasn’t too hot, either.

Both Mike and Al watched the man go, but while Mike’s attention remained on the door and clubhouse beyond, the older man’s shifted. Having played for the man for so long, Mike didn’t need to look to confirm Al’s speculative frown.

And if he didn’t see it, maybe he didn’t have to acknowledge it either.

Roughly, he shoved to his feet. “We done here?”

He kept his body angled towards the door, though the heavy sigh that preceded Al’s words painted a picture all on its own. Mike may have gotten used to being a disappointment, but it never stopped stinging.

“I suppose so, Mike.”

Without a backwards glance, he walked out of Skip’s office, shoulders tense. He was probably undoing all the work Kiki’d already put into his back today, but he didn’t give a shit.

He’d just had the worst conversation of his life, and his wife had once told him in excruciating detail exactly why she was leaving him for the pediatric heart surgeon, so he knew bad conversations when he had them.

Suffice it to say, Mike should’ve known going in just how bad it would get. Especially since it was called at the President of Baseball Operation’s request.

Well.

Charlie Graham could go fuck himself. Mike didn’t owe that guy a thing, especially when he didn’t even bother to show up to the meeting he’d wanted in the first place. Al, and even Oscar, though, he owed it to them to try and work out a game plan, an exit strategy, even if he was against 95% of what it entailed.

Mike Lawson’s Goodbye Season. Tickets on sale now.

He snorted, derisive.

He may be retiring at the end of the year, but he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. He didn’t want the farewell tour or the tributes or the weird fucking gifts from teams he’d spent his career trying to grind into the dirt. All Mike wanted was to play his last season and then disappear into the sunset. Or maybe something marginally less dramatic, but it wasn’t like he fucking knew what he wanted.

(Well, of the things he could have, he didn’t know what he wanted.)

Like the universe heard him and hated him, a bright, distinctive laugh rang through the clubhouse.

Almost instinctually, Mike turned towards it. A few bad months weren’t enough to erase his reaction to that sound.

Standing in the opening to the round locker room, Mike had a clear view of the whole team. Most everyone was dressed already. With only forty-five minutes to game time, they’d better be.

But where some guys were hunched in their chairs, headphones on, trying to get into game mode, others took a more laid back approach.

And though Mike never thought he’d live to see the day, Ginny Baker was one of the latter.

She lolled in one of the chairs, leg hooked over the armrest, other foot idly spinning the seat back and forth. True, she wasn’t pitching today, and true, she’d already put in her work with her trainers, but it was still strange to see her so relaxed in the clubhouse. Mike tried to rack his memory, recall if he’d ever seen her quite so boneless and content, even when they were at their best, but he came up empty.

Adding insult to injury was who exactly had her so relaxed.

Sprawled on one of the couches nearby, Blip grinned, face lit up with what must have been a good joke. Not that Mike had heard many of Blip’s jokes lately.

While he’d made good inroads with most of the team, bankrolling post-game celebrations and even letting that pack of animals throw a party at his house, there were still some holdouts.

Blip was the one who hurt the most.

It sucked that Salvi and Voorhies still weren’t completely sold on Mike’s new attitude—like it didn’t matter that the Padres had clawed their way up from the bottom of the National League in the past few weeks, settling in for a slog to the top if Mike had anything to say about it—but Mike would get over it. They weren’t his best friends.

That was Blip.

(That had been Ginny.)

So, looking at the man who’d been his closest friend for the past four years joking around with Ginny, that stung.

Not as much as it stung that the third member of their little club was the guy who’d been signed to replace him, though.

Mike couldn’t care less that Livan was still a little shit who delighted in needling his captain, lording every start over his head like it was another nail in Mike Lawson’s coffin. On a certain level, Mike couldn’t fault him.

On almost every other level, though...

Bitter barbs of jealousy roiled in his gut. That and the knowledge that he was going to give up the one thing in the world he was good at in the not too distant future. He hadn’t been good at being married or being a son. He’d never done well in school, and his phase two was a bust before he’d even gotten to it. The one thing that Mike had ever loved and managed to keep in his life was baseball and every day/hour/minute/second that ticked by, he could feel it slipping from his grasp.

All while that fucker was just getting started.

(To make matters worse, he was just getting started with Ginny.)

Mike would give it up and Livan would take his place. Had already taken his place from the looks of it.

But where a month or even a few weeks ago Mike would have let all that vitriol spew forth, today he kept it in check. He didn’t interrupt the meeting of the new Best Friends Club, no matter how much he might like to. He stepped into the room, and though he didn’t do anything to temper the thunderous frown on his face, he kept quiet. He didn’t need to look to know that Ginny’s eyes followed him, wary, or that her shoulders crept closer to her ears, waiting for whatever bullshit he was going to throw her way.

And it was bullshit.

Mike had known that the minute he started needling her back in Arizona. He was jealous, even though he had Rachel and wanted so desperately to be happy with her. At the beginning, the first day of training, he hadn’t even let himself look at Ginny, too afraid that one glimpse of her would remind him why he found it so hard to just want the woman he’d married.

Too soon, though, it wasn’t about Rachel at all. It was all about Ginny. Ginny’s laugh and Ginny’s smile. Ginny teasing Livan the way she’d used to tease Mike.

He’d reacted like a child, jealous of a new sibling getting more attention and desperate to get some back. Mike knew that now and wasn’t proud of it.

Not that it made much of a difference.

So, determined to show that he was trying to be better—for the team and the fans and even Ginny herself—Mike breathed through the ugly feelings clawing up his throat. He shoved them down into the pit of his stomach where he stored all the shit he didn’t like dealing with—his mom, his dad, his imminent retirement, Rachel, Ginny, the likelihood that he would spend the rest of his life alone...

The list went on.

What was one more item?

Blowing out a controlled breath, Mike let go of it all. Everything but baseball and the game he wanted, needed, to win was gone.

Was it healthy? Fuck no. He wasn’t even sure it was sustainable, but Mike was going to hold onto the one thing left to him while he still had it.

Everything else was gone already.

Without thinking about it, Mike’s gear bag was slung over his shoulder and he was headed for the dugout, walking away from his friend, his replacement, and his pitcher without a word.

June

It was too much to ask that no one had noticed the gaping chasm between captain Mike Lawson and not-rookie Ginny Baker. But where that kind of distance could maybe be explained away during Spring Training with all the extra players in the mix, during the regular season, it was glaringly obvious. And not just to over-invested fans with a blog and a Twitter account.

No, this was now being discussed on the Whip Around and SportsCenter. Discussed and analyzed, though thankfully no one managed to hit on the underlying cause of it.

(Bad enough that his team, fans, and sports journalists were all speculating about the apparent feud with his pitcher, it would be fucking mortifying if they knew it was all because he’d been such an asshole that he made the mistake of kissing her; of being deluded enough to think she wanted him to kiss her.)

If he’d bothered to ask, well, anyone, Mike would’ve learned that the consensus was that a blow up was long overdue.

Of course, Mike didn’t bother to ask questions he didn’t want the answer to. Particularly when he was privy to information that would definitely affect that consensus. Namely, that there’d already been a blow up.

But maybe a second one was past due.

Because while Mike had managed to keep his goddamn mouth shut every time some asshole comment wanted to break free, things between him and Ginny hadn’t improved. Ginny still shied away from any interaction with Mike and Mike still went stony and reticent whenever someone brought her up. Arguably, it was an improvement over where they’d been in the middle of spring training, but that wasn’t saying much.

They needed to clear the air.

Unfortunately, all Mike knew about clearing the air was throwing dynamite at the problem, ducking for cover, and waiting for the dust to settle. Hence the second blow up.

Was it so wrong, though, that he didn’t want to do that again? Not that he’d approach this one anything other than 100% sober and 80% apologetic. No encroaching on personal space or saying things that he hadn’t gone over at least twice in his head first. Not that any of that meant all that much considering how easily Ginny’s mere presence seemed to eat away at his self control.

Mike told himself that it wasn’t like Ginny was entirely innocent. She’d thrown too many barbs of her own back in Arizona to claim that.

Somehow, it never made him feel better.

Still, it didn’t really matter how he felt, not when the bullshit between him and Baker was now officially a distraction to the team. (He hadn’t missed the muttering or the too-quick channel changes on clubhouse TVs any time he entered the room. He also hadn’t missed the fact that they’d lost three of their last five games. Games where they should’ve at least put up a decent showing rather than doing their best Bad News Bears impressions—before Matthau whipped them all into shape. They were on a slippery slope back to where they’d been at the beginning of the season.)

Which was why Mike cornered Ginny in the trainer’s room.

Usually, she came in, got her arm wrap, and went back to her cubby to ice in peace. Not today, though.

Mike jerked his head at the intern on duty, who was slower to get out than anyone would’ve been last season. The wary glance between pitcher and catcher told Mike exactly why. Still, the kid left without saying anything, pulling the door closed behind him.

He sighed.

Ginny just shifted her weight between her feet, the only tell as to how uncomfortable she was right now. Otherwise, she was inscrutable. She stared at him with that carefully blank face, the Baker Bot out in full force.

Mike fucking hated it. She couldn’t do him the decency of giving him something? Anger or hurt or sadness? Hell, he’d even take hatred at this point, even though he knew the sight of Ginny Baker’s unadulterated loathing directed at him would probably shred his heart.

Whatever was left of it, anyway.

“I—” He shook his head and cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what,” she returned, flat.

Clearly, it wasn’t a brush off of his apology. She wanted specifics.

“For the way I’ve treated you. In Arizona. And before that even. There was a lot of other shit going on”—he and Rachel trying and mostly failing to make it work, the three separate sports therapists he’d seen in an effort to get one to tell him he wasn’t falling apart at the seams, not to mention the feelings that he allowed to implode—”and I took my frustration with that out on you, which wasn’t fair.”

She snorted and Mike had to remind himself that she was well within her right to be pissed. She was well within her right to tell him to fuck off and go straight to Deadspin about what a misogynistic asshole Mike Lawson was.

“Not fair? You think that’s the problem here?” she scoffed, cradling her right arm against her stomach like it was still too weak to hang on its own. It didn’t seem to cut her anger any, though. Ginny barreled on, letting loose some of her frustrations. They’d clearly been bottled up. “If I waited around for fair, I’d still be stuck in Tarboro, wishing someone would give me a chance. Don’t tell me you’re sorry because you weren’t being fair.”

He blew out a breath through his nose, arms coming up to cross over his chest. “Well, why don’t you tell me what I should be apologizing for, then.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Mike remembered the last time he said something similar. Probably a good idea not to think about his wife leaving him right now, though.

Ginny just stared at him. Like she couldn’t quite believe what had just come out of his mouth. Mike stared back. Her mouth hardened, jaw clenching.

“Fine. You should just apologize for being a dick. Not for being unfair. Because while it was and I still have no idea what the hell was wrong with you all of spring training, I’m used to unfair. I wasn’t used to you being such a fucking bully.”

He winced at the past tense. She hadn’t been used to it, but now she was.

At the same time, she didn’t ask for an apology for the kiss. Mike wasn’t sure if she just wanted to forget it even happened or didn’t want to push her luck.

“I am sorry, Baker,” he said, looking her right in the eyes. Christ, he couldn’t even remember the last time they’d had this kind of eye contact. One of them was always looking away. Usually Ginny. “For all of it. You didn’t deserve any of my bullshit and the fact that you’re still willing to play on the same field as me, let alone for the same team, is a fucking miracle.”

He watched her lips quiver, like she wanted to smile, but wouldn’t let herself.

Mike pushed on. “I don’t need you to forgive me right away. I know it’s gonna take time, but I don’t have that much left. Not with the team, anyway. And the team needs to present a united front if we wanna make a run at a pennant this year. We need to be on the same side.”

Ginny’s eyes dropped from his, uncertainty clouding her face.

Shit! He’d been so close. Mike scrambled for something, anything, to set her mind at ease, but Ginny deflated, nearly curling in on herself protectively. Doing her best to keep him out of her space.

Her space.

Jesus, how hadn’t he figured?

“‘M not gonna kiss you again,” he murmured, voice low to keep the busybodies no doubt eavesdropping in the hall from overhearing. What was it about a closed door that invited such curiosity from a bunch of grown men? He didn’t mind them hearing everything else, but this was between him and her. Ginny’s gaze cut straight back to his, surprise etched over her features. He guessed it was something of a surprise that he could still read her so well. “So can we just go back to being teammates?”

Of course, that assumed they’d ever been just teammates, but Mike couldn’t take walking around with this pit of bile swirling inside him anymore; it was eating away at him. And he definitely couldn’t take ESPN talking about it like it was news worth sharing.

“You’re not?” she asked, brow wrinkled in what had to be suspicion, lips tugged into a contemplative frown.

“No,” he replied, even though it killed him that he’d never know what it was like to kiss her when she actually wanted him to. “Learned my lesson.”

Ginny was still frowning as she nodded, slow and more than a little unsure. “Teammates,” she finally agreed, her tone guarded.

Mike didn’t care.

It was better than what he’d had to start the day.

July

It was no surprise that Ginny was selected to her second All Star squad in her second season. Even though the Padres had toiled to pull themselves out of the hole they’d dug at the beginning of the season, Ginny’d had mostly solid starts from the beginning, her ERA significantly lower than what it’d been this time last year.

What was the surprise, though, was the fact that Mike was also selected. To both the squad and the Home Run Derby team.

(What could he say? Facing down retirement and the antipathy if not outright hostility of his teammates had lit a fire under his ass.)

Upon hearing the news, Mike texted Ginny: Congrats, All Star. Drinks? I’m buying.

When his phone started buzzing in his hand, before he even got a chance to slide it back into his pocket, Mike took a second to stare at the “Ginny Baker” displayed on the screen.

The past month, he had put a lot of effort into being teammates and friends—just friends—with Ginny. He was constantly aware of the need to check himself, keep from falling even deeper into his feelings for her. If he was also aware of how different this all was from last season, Mike figured that was the difference between knowing he’d caught feelings and being blindsided by them.

But he wanted her friendship, the easy camaraderie they’d once had, almost more than he wanted to kiss her again. And Mike fucking dreamed about kissing Ginny again. He knew that wasn’t happening, though.

Friends it was.

So, they’d chatted a few times on the phone, about easy things, like Mike coming in late to the clubhouse or the new and unique Ginnsanity posters he’d managed to pick out during a game. Nothing like their late night talks from last season, though, where conversation flowed so easily, a natural extension of their rapport on the field. (If he lived in hope that some day they’d make it back there, Mike played that pretty close to the chest.)

He accepted the call.

“What’s on your mind, Baker?” he drawled, spinning his keyring around his finger as he walked out the door. If she didn’t want to get drinks, she would’ve just texted him that. There was something else weighing on her.

“Drinks are good,” she started, only a little hesitant. Still, Mike could practically picture her pacing her room, tugging on her lip the way she did when she considered a problem. But then the reason for that hesitance became clear when she asked, “Just us?”

Every so often, they ran up against the slowly healing wounds of their past and things got a little awkward. Neither was all that eager to verbalize any more of their feelings, which made those awkward patches even harder to navigate.

"There another All Star on the team I’m unaware of?”

The silence before she replied, “No,” was longer than the question probably deserved.

Mike sighed. “Listen. Why don’t you save whatever’s eating at you for when I can look you in the eye and tell you you’re overthinking this, okay?”

Ginny huffed but didn’t disagree. “I pick the place, though,” she bargained, needing to win something in this conversation.

“Yeah, fine. Send me the address.”

When Mike walked into the shitty dive bar all the fucking way in El Cajon—which, he really did not want to know who’d been bringing Ginny Baker to shitty dives in El Cajon—he realized he maybe should have questioned why she wanted to meet here before this.

Because it was pretty clear from the number of empties surrounding her, Ginny’d been here awhile. Since before he’d even sent her the message, probably.

Still, Mike made his way over to her seat at the bar, the soles of his boots sticking unpleasantly to the floor, and sat beside her. Ginny didn’t look up from where she was glowering ferociously at her mostly empty bottle of beer.

“Who pissed in your corn flakes?” Mike asked, signaling the bartender for another round. He wasn’t starting tomorrow and neither was she, so he didn’t see the harm. Besides, it was rare enough to see Ginny so visibly and obviously bent out of shape. She deserved a little indulgence when it happened.

“Me.”

“That seems avoidable,” he observed easily. It wasn’t that he thought he could cajole her out of her bad mood, but it wasn’t like it’d hurt to try.

Ginny turned to face him, eyes remarkably clear for the amount of beer she’d put away. Then again, there was also probably a Double-Double and fries in her stomach, soaking up most of the alcohol. The woman couldn’t resist her burgers.

“I’m a fraud,” she said plainly.

Equally plain, and vividly recalling the last time he had this conversation with her, he replied, “You’re not a fraud.”

“I feel like one.”

“Well, I feel like I’ve got another two years left in my knees, but that doesn’t make it true.”

Ginny’s lips pursed in a little pout, so Mike looked away. Thankfully, the bartender chose that moment to return with their drinks, so it even seemed natural.

“I shouldn’t be an All Star,” she tried again. “I’ve got the worst ERA in the lineup—”

“You’re like a run and a half off—”

“—and there’s no way this isn’t just another publicity stunt by the league. I wonder what hashtag they used this year.”

Mike wasn’t used to Ginny sounding quite so bitter. That was his thing. Even when they’d been at each other’s throats, she’d mostly reacted, lashing out because he pushed and prodded until she had to. Well, if she’d learned it from him, she couldn’t ask for a better teacher.

Still, it wasn’t a good look on her.

Turning on his stool, Mike did his best to reassure her. “That’s not—”

“Please,” she spat, cutting him off. “I know I’m just Eddie Gaedel around here.”

Well, at least she’s given up the martyr routine.

Mike didn’t wince at the thought, but he was glad he’d managed to keep it stuffed behind his teeth. That was the kind of shit that got him here in the first place. Those jabs were coming less frequently, now, as they navigated their way slowly towards a tentative friendship, but Mike was all too aware that one poorly timed joke or backhanded compliment could unravel the fragile truce they’d built.

He did wince wondering if she’d somehow heard what he’d said about her that first start, more than a year ago. He doubted anyone’d blabbed to her, but it was so specific. Pushing down the guilt, he eyed her, wondering if this self-doubt was always simmering beneath the surface of Ginny Baker. She was so good at hiding it most of the time.

“You’ve made it an entire year, Baker. You know how hard that is? And you came back from an injury. You’re the real deal, not just some publicity stunt to sell more tickets.”

She made a disbelieving sound in the back of her throat and picked discontentedly at the label on her beer.

“Maybe, but it’s not like anyone takes me seriously.”

“You made this squad on your own merit, not ‘cause MLB pulled some strings. How much more seriously do you want people to take you? You’re a fucking All Star for Christ’s sake.”

“I won the popular vote because people know my name, not because I actually deserve to be an All Star.”

Mike frowned.

“You know I won the popular vote like three times, right?”

An acidic smile tugged at her mouth and it turned Mike’s stomach. Christ, he hated seeing her unhappy.

“Yeah. Just no one ever told you that you’d be a better asset to your team waiting in the locker room on your knees, mouth open,” she muttered, hunching sullenly over her drink.

Mike burned. Burned with shame that anything he’d ever said or done made Ginny think he came even close to thinking that of her. And burned with rage that some shithead had the nerve to tell her that and still managed to walk away with the use of all four limbs.

“Who the fuck said that to you?” he demanded, ready to shove off his stool, out of the bar, and into the early evening to track down the son of a bitch.

Ginny just shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it fucking matters! Who the fuck thought they had the right to spew that kind of bullshit at you?”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, one brow raised, and Mike wilted a little. He tried to tell himself that his bullshit had been different. Clearly, it hadn’t been different enough.

“It doesn’t matter,” she repeated, taking a slug from her beer and wrinkling her nose. Mike knew why she drank it, despite hating the taste, but he wished she didn’t feel like she had to. “It’s not like I believe it, but it’s hard to shake off the fact that other people do.”

“The people who matter don’t.”

Ginny finally turned to look at him full in the face. There was too much doubt in her wide, dark eyes.

“They don’t,” he pressed, leaning an elbow on the bar to keep from leaning into her space. That wasn’t what she needed. Or wanted. “Blip and Ev don’t. The rest of the team doesn’t. Neither does Al or the coaching staff. Or Oscar and the front office.”

“And what about you?”

Mike tried to shake off the way her husky murmur made his heart begin to pound and tried to focus on the fact that his opinion mattered again. That was the win. Especially since nothing was ever going to happen about the way almost everything about Ginny made his heart pound.

He thought about brushing it off, responding with a joke, like this didn’t mean the fucking world to him. But the uncertainty and hesitance on Ginny’s face convinced him otherwise.

“I don’t think that either.”

She sniffed, neither unimpressed nor looking like tears were imminent. Sometimes a sniff was just a sniff.

“Now that your pity party’s over—” Ginny laughed at that, taken aback but not mad. “—can we get outta here?”

“Yeah, old man. It’s getting close to your bedtime isn’t it?” she teased and Mike struggled not to light up. Fuck he’d missed this.

“You’d need the energy too if you had to drive all the way to El Cajon to give your pitcher a pep talk.”

Her smile this time was a little softer, but it hit him just as hard.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, fishing her phone out of her pocket. “You can go, I’ll just wait for my car to get here.”

“Nah, c’mon. I’ll take you.”

Someday soon—he fucking hoped—she’d stop looking quite so wary when he offered up these meaningless favors: a piece of gum, running hitters, a spot to sit, a bit of advice. She’d stop looking at him like she expected him to spit at her, not that he didn’t deserve the wary caution. He understood that reforming their friendship would be harder, more work than falling into it in the first place had been, but he would wait her out if it meant getting back to what they had been before he fucked it all up. He could be patient.

For Ginny, he was coming to realize, he could do a lot of things.

August

“Lawson,” Ginny called from across the clubhouse, “you coming out with us?”

He hesitated.

On the one hand, the team had just surged ahead in the standings, steadily clawing their way up to a Wild Card spot. If anything deserved a celebration, it was this.

And, personally, he was tempted to agree because he finally felt like his teammates actually wanted him to come. The Padres had come back around on Mike Lawson, a development that certainly didn’t hinder their newfound success on the field.

He should’ve known that Ginny’d be the key to winning back the rest of the team. Once they seemed satisfied that pitcher and catcher had buried the hatchet, Mike found that he was no longer the least popular guy in the clubhouse. It’d take time to fully rebuild some of those friendships, especially with Blip, but finally, Mike was sure that he actually could.

On the other hand, and more pressingly, Mike wasn’t sure it was a good idea to spend the evening with a Ginny Baker flushed with victory and riding a post-win high. Even if they’d spend that evening surrounded by the rest of their teammates. It seemed like a dangerous combination, and one he’d been trying to keep away from lately.

It was hard enough to remember that Ginny didn’t want him when they were fighting. When they were actually getting along? Forget about it.

Mike would love to deny that he was still hoping for Ginny to change her mind. Deny that his continued good behavior was at least partially inspired by the possibility that he could convince her to want him the way he still wanted her. Deny that he wanted the new ease to their friendship to be an indicator that the latent attraction Ginny’d felt for him last year was deepening into something more. He wanted to deny it all because there was no way any of that would come to pass.

These days, though, he was trying to keep his lies less potentially destructive.

At his pause, her eyes narrowed and her chin lifted stubbornly. “You’re coming,” she decreed. “Captain has to come out with the team, right guys?”

The agreement that went around the room was less half-hearted than it would’ve been at the beginning of the season, which was something.

Still, though, Mike hesitated.

Ginny’s jaw set, and before she could tear into him, he caved.

“Fine, Baker!” he huffed, snatching his bag off his chair. “You don’t have to beg!”

“I don’t beg!”

She looked so scandalized, mouth agape but still somehow grinning, Mike couldn’t help but snort and shake his head. The rest of the team started to shuffle out into the bowels of Petco Park, but Ginny waited for him, her fingers curled around the strap of her backpack.

“I’m sorry,” he drawled as he drew even with her, itching to throw an arm around her shoulders the way he would’ve this time last year. She fell into step with him anyway, which would have to be good enough. “What was that big-eyed puppy impression you were doing the other day when I wouldn’t give you my lunch? Seemed an awful lot like begging...”

Ginny scoffed. “Did you just compare me to a dog?”

Mike thought it over and decided to go with it. “I haven’t seen something so pathetic since Jedi used to beg for dinner scraps.”

“You did not just compare me to your dead dog!” she laughed, elbowing him hard in the ribs.

“Jesus, Baker! Watch where you put those things!”

“You deserved it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed, privately thinking that a few cheap shots were well worth Ginny laughing with him again.

They managed an easy back and forth all the way to the player’s lot, where Mike headed for his truck, figuring he’d just follow the line of Padres to whatever club or bar was hosting tonight’s outing and Ginny would ride with Blip or, God forbid, Livan. Either way, he could take the time in the car to remind himself that he and Ginny were just friends, and he was fucking lucky to have that. He wouldn’t contemplate heading home instead, knowing she and the rest of the team would end up giving him shit all night, blowing up his phone to the point where he might as well just be with them.

He slung himself up into the driver’s seat and loosed a long breath, closing his eyes. In the quiet, he told himself, Just get through this.

That peace was shattered by someone insistently pulling at the passenger’s side door, apparently annoyed at being locked out.

Before he even opened his eyes to see who it was, Mike was reaching to unlock the door. His head lolled to the side and he forced himself to face reality just in time for Ginny to jerk open the door and climb inside.

“Were you planning on leaving me here?” she asked, suspicious but not serious.

“I thought about it,” he replied, not mentioning that he hadn’t even considered she’d want to ride with him. Not when she could have her pick of chauffeurs.

“Rude, Lawson. You’re rude.”

“And yet you’re still friends with me.”

She tossed him a quick smile, no hesitation and Mike wondered if he’d ever stop sagging in relief when she did that: didn’t question their friendship.

Bag settled in the footwell, where Ginny’s pristine Nikes were meant to go, she propped her feet on the dashboard instead, making herself at home. Mike cut her a quick glance out of the side of his eyes as he pulled out of the spot and followed Salvamini onto the San Diego streets, but Ginny ignored him. Instead, she picked up their conversation where they’d left it: Desert Island Movies.

Mike was laughing at Ginny’s latest pick (while he’d never seen the Josie and the Pussycats movie, he felt confident in saying it wasn’t Desert Island material) when the turn he took blew him straight into a bout of déjà vu.

A rumbling sense of intuitive dread crept into his stomach at the next.

“Where’d you say we’re going?”

She shrugged, fiddling with the radio. “I don’t know. I didn’t pick. Livan said he knew somewhere.”

Mike nodded, but as they neared their destination, the pit in his stomach opened up, ready to swallow the ease he’d fought and scrapped for with Ginny whole.

He pulled into a spot on the street behind Salvi’s minivan, threw the car into park, and couldn’t quite hold in his disbelieving scoff of laughter.

Fucking Livan.

“I didn’t pick it,” Ginny repeated, staring hollowly with Mike at the familiar building.

Boardner’s.

Mike bit back his sigh. “I know.”

“You don’t think they...”

She didn’t have to finish the thought for Mike to know what she meant.

“No. I don’t think they know.”

A slightly manic spurt of laughter burbled out of Ginny’s mouth. “So this is just some coincidence?”

“Yeah.”

“It can’t be,” she argued, voice going a little high as she let panic creep in. “It means something. It was this time last year—”

“Hey,” he murmured, reaching out without thinking to hold her hand. It was so rare that he let himself touch her, Mike wanted to revel in the feel of her warm, dry skin against his, but he focused on the matter before them. “You said you didn’t want to talk about it, and we don’t have to. It’s your call, I’ll follow it.”

She looked at him, chest heaving a little as she struggled to wrangle her breathing into its regular rhythm. When it settled, she asked, “You’ll follow my call?”

“That’s all I’m trying to do.”

For a second, a flicker of confusion passed over her face, but it was gone by the time Mike blinked. In its place was frowning comprehension.

That she hadn’t realized he’d tried to be better for her and not just the sake of team dynamics was pretty fucking gutting, but better late than never. Mike offered her a half-hearted grin which she returned, equally unsure.

“You ready to go in?”

Ginny looked back to the bar and blew out a long breath, exhaling her discomfort and the memories of last year. Finally, she shook out her shoulders, settling them straight and even over her spine. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Mike’s grin brightened. How couldn’t it in the face of Ginny’s strength and composure?

When she didn’t move to open the car door, though, he let himself tease her, just a little.

“All right, then. I’d hate to leave your adoring fans waiting.”

She threw him an exasperated glance, but at last climbed out of the SUV and headed for bar (her biggest fan right on her heels).

September

As was becoming habit lately, Mike was the last one left in the Padres clubhouse at the end of the night. Tomorrow, they’d play their last game of the regular season. Two days later, they’d go into the first Wild Card game for the Padres in more than five years.

He was doing his best to soak everything in, commit it all to memory. Even the slightly stale scent of sweat and dirty socks.

“Did you fall asleep again?”

Mike cracked open an eye to see Ginny staring down at him in her post-game uniform of leggings and a workout jacket, fond smile on her face.

“You find me sleeping one time,” he muttered, leaning forward and scrubbing a hand over his face to keep himself from staring.

“It was way more than once,” she responded, flopping into Blip’s empty chair and spinning idly. Mike could feel her studying him, but couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it. Gently, she asked, “You ready for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I guess there’s not too much I can fuck up with one day left.”

“Not as long as they keep Salvi out at first.”

Mike ignored the joke, feeling too close to nostalgic and weepy to appreciate it. “It’s a goddamn miracle I made it this far.”

Ginny hummed and nodded. “Your knees?”

He shook his head, though she wasn’t wrong. “I’m not good at just having. There’s something about me that makes it impossible to just let things be good.”

“That’s bullshit,” she returned, entirely and suddenly unsympathetic.

“Real nice, Baker.”

“It is!” she defended, leaning forward in her chair, so close their knees nearly touched. Mike sat back, arms crossed over his chest like he was annoyed, but really just needing space.

Once he was retired, he’d have all the space he wanted.

It wasn’t a comforting thought.

“You’ve had sixteen years in the majors without imploding, Mike. You’re the captain of this team and have the respect of everyone who’s ever played with you. What’s that if not letting things be good?”

“Right,” he huffed, pushing to his feet to pace. “Those same sixteen years where I let my personal life go to shit more times than I can count? Including my wife leaving me twice and blowing that respect you say I’ve got out of the water when I tried to abandon my team over—”

He shut the hell up.

“Over what?” Ginny murmured, though the undercurrent of steel was nothing to laugh at. It wasn’t something he could easily lie to, either.

He didn’t.

“Over something I let get to me and affect the team too long.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“What else should we call it?” he demanded roughly, looking away.

“Maybe the worst six weeks of my entire life?”

“You got over it just fine,” he said, exhausted and wishing he hadn’t walked straight into this.

“I got over it?” she repeated, disbelief coloring each word. Mike didn’t have anything to say to that. Ginny did, though, standing up, too. “Do you know how fucking heartbroken I was in Arizona? It was like you hated me, Mike, and I had no idea what I’d done!”

“You didn’t do anything and I definitely didn’t hate you,” he sighed, pained that she thought that, but also unwilling to dig deeper.

“It felt like it!”

“What do you want me to say?” he bit out, struggling not to raise his voice, but frustrated beyond hell.

The only reason he’d managed not to lose it all season was by burying the truth of his feelings, their breadth and startling depth, way down deep. He couldn’t believe Ginny wanted the truth now, with one game left in the regular season. They’d made it this far. Why ruin everything they’d gotten back now?

“Start with the truth!”

“No.”

“Why?” she demanded, shaking with her anger.

“Because I already know how this is gonna play out, and forgive me if I’m not that eager to go back to not talking to you.”

“Oh, you know how this is gonna play out?” Ginny mimicked with a sneer.

“I’ve got a pretty good fucking idea,” he spat back. “You made yourself very clear.”

“How could I have made myself clear when I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about?”

Mike snorted, which she did not seem to appreciate. At all.

“What the fuck was that? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mike—”

“You said it was a mistake,” he cut her off, and she fell silent at his words. “When I— When I kissed you, you said it was a mistake.”

Ginny stared at him, for once at a loss for words.

Mike, on the other hand, couldn’t keep the words down any longer.

“It was a fucking mistake. I was drunk and pissed and I never should’ve kissed you. Not because I was out of my mind with jealousy—had been ever since I found out about your date with the billionaire—and desperate to deny the fact that I’d already ruined everything there was between us. I shouldn’t’ve kissed you. Not like that.”

Ginny swallowed, digesting his words. Just when he was about to turn away, leave this conversation on a higher note than he was sure it would go if he continued, her voice stopped him.

“Then how?”

She stared up at him, lips slightly parted and looking so perfectly kissable that it was Mike’s turn to be at a loss. Which seemed to suit Ginny fine.

“How should you have kissed me, Mike?" She took a step toward him, eyes trained on his face. “If you shouldn’t’ve been drunk or jealous or desperate, tell me how you should’ve kissed me.”

Ginny was so close. It would be so easy to reach out and tuck that stray curl behind her ear. So easy to set his hands on her waist and wait for hers to find their own holds on him. So easy to duck down and press the kiss she seemed to be asking for against her waiting mouth.

So easy.

But a mistake.

“I should’ve waited,” he answered. The way Ginny rocked away from him told Mike that she hadn’t been expecting that. “I should’ve waited until we weren’t teammates. Until I wasn’t in the game. Anything else would’ve been unfair to you.”

When Ginny finally managed to come up with a response, she seemed torn between a frown and a smile. Her lips turned down, but her dimples still dotted her cheeks. “I told you I don’t care about fair.”

“You might not, but I do.”

Her eyes closed at that, a rueful smile overtaking the frown. “You know, I thought you were such an asshole when we first met.”

Mike startled back at that, a shocked laugh leaving his lips. Ginny shook her head, gazing up at him, head tilted to the side like she was puzzling him out.

“And you are. You definitely can be an asshole when you feel like it, but you’re something else, too. You’re sweet and strong and entirely too hard on yourself. I do forgive you. Because I know that even though I don’t understand, not all the way at least, what made you act like that in Arizona, I can see how hard you’re trying to put things right.”

“I am,” he breathed, hardly capable of believing that Ginny was really going to forgive him.

She nodded and Mike nearly sagged at how the simple gesture put him at ease. It was suddenly so much easier to breathe, a weight lifted from his shoulders that he’d gotten too accustomed to.

“I don’t know if I agree that any kiss you give me before you’re retired would be a mistake,” she said, which Mike still couldn’t get over. He’d spent so much time these past few months convincing himself that Ginny hadn’t ever wanted him at all. Finding out she did, she does, was maybe more than he could process at the moment. “But I can see your point. You said you’d follow my calls, but—”

As she backed away from him, heading for the clubhouse entrance, Ginny grinned.

“Maybe it’s time I start following yours.”

Epilogue: October

Mike had never been one to believe that wanting something the most meant he was going to get it. There had been so many things in his life that he’d wanted—a regular family, a career for the history books, a happy marriage—a hell of a lot more than most people, but he hadn’t necessarily gotten them.

No, wanting was only as good as the effort he was willing to put in to get it.

But goddamn if he didn’t want this.

It wasn’t the crowd screaming out his name or how inherently right he felt standing at the plate, bat in hand.

It wasn’t that this was the biggest game in baseball and he was finally playing it.

It wasn’t that this was the last game of his career and suddenly everything meant so much more. The last time he tarred his bat, the last time he got into it with an umpire; the last, the last, the last.

It wasn’t even the pleasant pool of anticipation in his gut—such a change from the pit that’d been there all season—every time he caught sight of Ginny.

Or maybe it was. Maybe it was all of it swirled together to make for the most exhilarating nine innings of his life.

Nine perfect innings. Even if it wasn’t Ginny on the mound. And it wasn’t his foot to last touch home. There wasn’t a single pitch, hit, or play that Mike would change or trade.

Not when it led to him mobbed in a crush of his teammates, voices hoarse as they shouted and screamed out their newest title: World Series Champions.

In the melee, somehow Mike found his way to Ginny’s side. Or maybe she found him or they found their way to each other. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t thrown a single pitch today, not when she threw her arms around his neck and laughed out her joy. Mike couldn’t help but echo it back, his own arms wrapping around her waist in a way that felt all too natural.

There was no kiss. Not yet, at least. But one would come soon. And then another and hopefully a million more. A lifetime of kissing Ginny Baker lay before him.

Because even though his career had come to a close, that didn’t mean the rest of his life had, too.

For once, he even believed it.

#bawson #bawson fic #Pitch #pitch fic #i wrote something #this is it #the fic I've been agonizing over #for way too long #and i really like the middle #the end's ok #i'm still processing the beginning

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aoi-midori · 7 years

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Lucid Storm Chapter 2

yo! i meant to post this one a while ago, but i got sidetracked by a lot of stuff, so i wasn’t on tumblr too much. so i’m doing it now. also, note how I HAVE A NEW TITLE FOR MY STORY. ‘lucid storm’ is now the official title! woo! anyway, i’ll post the links to the previous chapters before the ‘read more’!

Chapter 0: ETMA (Prologue) | Chapter 1: First Mission

Chapter 2: The Element Spheres [Emma Parker]

“Whoa. Geez Al, calm down! You’re hitting too hard!”

“Oh, I am? Sorry, my bad.” Al relaxed himself more and continued punching away, this time a bit more gently, at the blocking cushion I was holding up for him.

“Got something on your mind?”

“Nah, not really. I read the new chapter though.”

“Yeah?” The chapter in question was from a long-running manga series Al had been reading for years. I didn’t read this one in particular, but I knew a lot about it thanks to him. “And?”

Al shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.”

“Really? Just okay?”

“Yeah, well I feel like this arc in general has just been dragging for a while now. Some aspects are pretty interesting, but there was mostly just exposition stuff this chapter. And not too much has been going on just yet.”

He started punching harder again, but I was ready for it this time. “Still, at least the fave was able to kick some ass this time around. It’s pretty cool to see him in action since all the focus has been off of him for 3 irl years.”

Al stopped and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm. “Alright Em, you’re up.”

“Thanks!” I handed him the cushion and braced myself before I gave it the first blow. Upon first contact, I could feel the warmth from Al’s punches. It was… very comforting, and it put me at ease.

“So, the arc is definitely almost over, right? I mean, that’s what it sounds like to me.”

“I have no idea to be honest. You can’t really predict anything with Oda involved.”

He sighed. “But nevermind that. Is there anything new with you?”

“What? We just saw each other last night Al!”

“Yeah, well something could have happened since then! You never know, right? So?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so. After you left last night, I just went to bed. But…” I paused for a second as I slowly started to remember. “But I did have that dream again though.”

“Which one?”

“You know, that one recurring dream with the girl in it?”

“Oh shit, that one? Again?”

“Yep.”

Ever since I was seven years old, I had had this one dream every now and then. Coincidentally enough, that was also around the same time when my powers first started acting up. A few things would change each time, but the main aspect that always stayed the same was the black-haired girl who showed up in them. She never spoke, and her eyes had always been closed shut, so it was like she was never awake when I had them. I had no idea who this girl was, and why it was her in particular who showed up. I had first originally thought that she was just some random person I’d passed in the street somewhere who my subconscious just conjured up for some reason. But then she became a recurring character in the dreams, and that basically threw my theory right out the window.

My punching became faster and harder. “It’s weird. Over the past several years, I’ve had it on and off. But now…. I don’t know, since last week I’ve been seeing her a lot more often. Like… every few days or so. Is that even normal?”

“Beats me. But you know, I wouldn’t put it past me to believe that it’s somehow magi-related. We did have our first mission last week after all. Maybe that had something to do with it?”

“I have no idea! But just for once, I want to know who that girl even is! I mean she keeps showing up, so she’s got to be important somehow, right? I just need answers already!”

“Yow!” Al dropped the now-burning blocking cushion and reeled back as he clutched his hand. “Jesus Em, watch what you’re doing dammit!”

“Shit!” As soon as I realized what had happened, I dropped to the floor and tried to put the flames out before the fire alarm could go off. “Sorry Al!”

He sighed as he pulled the water out of one of the water bottles sitting on the floor nearby and spread it over the cushion. The flames went out instantly. “It’s fine. Just try to keep your cool though, alright? I know you’re a Tecmentic and all, but come on! That shit’s dangerous!”

“Yeah I know, I’m working on it!” I leaned back and sat down on the gym floor. “But I still don’t even know what it all means. I know Sammie explained it and everything, but I feel like I’m even more confused about it now.”

“Is it the ‘having two aura sources’ thing? Or having Tectonic abilities on top of the Elemental stuff?”

“All of it! Like, how did they even figure out that I was a Tecmentic anyway? What I can do right now isn’t anything different from what other fire users can do, right?”

“Sure, but you can generate your own fire, whereas people like Lex can’t and have to use other means to do so.”

“So is that all there is to it then? I can just automatically make fire by myself? Everyone makes it seem like being a Tecmentic is such a huge deal, but I just don’t see it. What’s so special about being able to make your own fire?”

Al looked deep in thought. Eventually, he shared his thoughts with me. “Maybe it’s something that you have to ease into. Like… as you start to learn more about yourself and the limits of your powers, you’ll find that you’ll be able to do more stuff with it. Things like this always take some time getting used to anyway.”

I groaned, leaning forward so that my elbows were propped up against my knees. “That sounds like a lot of unnecessary work if you ask me.”

“Well no one did say it was going to be easy.” Al sat down opposite me; we were so close, our knees were touching. “But if anyone can get a handle on this, it’s you. So don’t sweat it! And as always,” he slid his hands under mine, “I’ll be right here with you every step of the way. That’s what best friends are for, right?”

No matter what, Al always had me smiling. It was like he did it on pure instinct. “Yeah. Thanks.”

His hands were cool to the touch. They felt really, really nice, especially since mine were always very warm. In fact, my entire body was like that, always had been. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had ever felt legitimately cold. I guessed it just came with the package of being a Tecmentic fire user.

I flipped my hands over so that my palms were touching his, and my fingers closed in around them. “It’s nice that you’ve got so much faith in me! I hope you’re not jealous.”

“Jealous? Jealous of what?”

“It’s like Sammie said! Tecmentics are pretty rare, you know.” My grip on his hands tightened as I pulled him in closer, our noses just barely apart. “And I know you always get excited when I use my powers. Don’t deny it.”

“Sh-shut up!” Al blushed as he averted his eyes from mine. He pulled himself back a bit, putting a slight distance between us. “I will admit, you’ve got a point there. Who wouldn’t be excited about that stuff anyway? But I don’t envy you for having them over me. I’m perfectly okay with what I’ve got now, thank you very much.”

“Really, you’re sure you wouldn’t want them? It could be fun!”

“Mmm I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but… I think I’ll pass. I don’t think fire suits me anyway.”

“Okay then,” I scooted myself closer so that my knees were on top of his. “Here’s a question for you. If you could trade powers with anyone here, who would it be and why?”

“Ohhhhh now there’s a tricky one. There are a lot of pretty cool ones… No wait, what am I even saying? This should be a no-brainer. Will’s, hands down.”

“What? Really?”

“Hell yes. Will’s super endurance is the only one that’s actually practical if you ask me. You don’t even have to do anything really to use it; it’s always activated. And besides, having high endurance would be extremely useful in a fight!”

“Well I guess that’s true.” I tilted my head to the side as I eyed the blocking cushion next to us. “Anyway, wanna train some more now?”

Al looked down at it too and sighed. “Yeah, alright.” We both stood up in-sync. “Just don’t flare up on me again, okay?”

“Sure, sure. I’ll do my best.” I tucked a strand of blue hair back behind my ear as Al picked up the cushion. I readied myself once again, but before I could even punch the thing, I could hear the chorus of “Sugar, We’re Goin Down” coming from my pocket. “Huh? Someone’s calling me?”

I pulled my phone out to see that it was a text, and then almost immediately, Al’s started going off too. I could easily tell thanks to the several loud rounds of “ROW ROW, FIGHT THE POWA” that were very recognizable.

<From: Bro - Get Al & come to Briefing Room 1 ASAP, & be ready to go on a mission. It’s an emergency!>

“Yeah, I’m with her right now. Whoa, just calm the fuck down already! What happened? Yeah yeah alright, we’re on our way. Bye.”

I heard Al put his phone away as I texted Bro back. “That was Cho, said we need to head for the main building right away.”

“Yeah, Bro just texted me about that too.”

“Right. Guess we’d better get going then, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I grabbed the single remaining water bottle off the floor and downed it in one gulp. “It’s sad we didn’t get to train anymore. But if it’s a mission, then it can’t be helped.”

“I’m just wondering what the hell’s going on. Cho was pissed when she called. The last time I heard her that angry was during last week’s mission, and if she’s like that now… This mission must be really important.”

“Well whatever the case, things’ll work out in the end! I’m sure it will.” But even I was curious about it all. Bro had said that it was an emergency. So whatever this mission was, something bad had to have happened.

The two of us left the gym and immediately headed for the main building on base. Luckily enough, the two buildings were only five minutes apart from each other, so it didn’t take long for us to get there. And when we did finally reach the room in question, we found three people in there waiting for us.

“Oh good, you’re here!” Bro sounded relieved at the sight of us, but that didn’t change the fact that he looked very uneasy. The way he was sitting along with the fast drumming of his fingers on his leg implied as much.

“You okay there Bro?”

“I’ll be fine!” He nodded and said all of that a bit too quickly to convince me.

Al meanwhile grabbed his arms and rubbed his hands furiously against them. “Jesus fucking christ it’s cold in here, what the hell?”

“Are you sure? I don’t feel anything.”

“Are you kidding me? It feels like it’s 30 degrees in here!”

“Cho. Calm down. You’ll freeze everyone if you keep this up.”

It was only when Shuuhei spoke that I finally noticed what Bro was so anxious about. Sitting in the corner by the door was Cho, and she looked livid. She sat indian-style on the floor, and her arms were folded so tightly across her chest, it looked as if she might actually tear them off. But it was the look on her face that really startled me. Pursed lips, a permanent frown, and those stormy green eyes; it definitely put me on edge.

She didn’t respond to Shuuhei at all. She just sat there, staring at the opposite wall with a death glare powerful enough to scare anyone. And apparently it was so cold in there that even Bro and Shuuhei were now starting to shiver.

As we moved farther into the room, Al went for Shuuhei and muttered into his ear. “What’s her problem?”

Shuuhei sighed. “It’s complicated. There are a lot of things factoring into it.”

“Like what? The mission?”

Shuuhei hesitated before slowly nodding his head. “That, along with other things that are involved.”

Right on cue, a small gust of wind passed through our group of three. Shortly after that, both Al and Shuuhei huddled in for warmth. I assumed that the room had just gotten even colder, and it was then that I noticed my breath hanging in the air. I moved in closer too and put my arms around the two of them to help try and warm them up.

Bro stayed where he was, but he did eventually stand up and took a step towards Cho. “Come on Cho, please calm down! Everything in the room will start freezing over soon if you don’t stop this!”

He didn’t get an answer, but there was another short wind gust though. And that seemed to make things even colder since Bro now came over to join our group.

Al leaned in even closer so that his head rested against my chest. “Goddamn,” he muttered as his teeth chattered simultaneously. “Shuuhei, do something!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He left for the other side of the room and knelt down on the floor beside Cho. He gently put a hand onto her shoulder. “Cho. Cho! Listen to me!” He shook her shoulder a bit to try to get her attention. “You need to stop this! If you keep this up, you’ll only end up hurting yourself!”

Nothing happened. Her eyes remained staring at the other wall, unfocused. Shuuhei then moved so that both hands were grasping her shoulders and shook her even more. “Come on Cho, snap out of it!”

“Wha?!” Cho finally snapped back to reality with that one. She looked over at the rest of us before turning back to Shuuhei. “What happened? Did something- oh hell, it’s cold in here!”

“Yeah, no kidding!” Al hissed, his body still leaning against mine. “This was your doing, so fix it already for god’s sake!”

“Oh shit, really?” Almost immediately, the atmosphere within the room lightened considerably, and I assumed the temperature went back up. “Sorry! I zoned out for a while…”

“Augh thank god,” Al sighed with relief as he let go of me. Even Bro looked a lot more relaxed.

Shuuhei took Cho’s hands and helped her up to her feet. “Are you alright?”

Cho’s frown returned, but she looked a lot more calm this time. She folded her arms again as she leaned back against the wall. “I’ll be fine.”

From the way her tone sounded, she sure didn’t seem fine to me. She was anything but fine, but at least she wasn’t freezing up the room again.

“So… is everyone here now?” Bro asked the room. “Al, Sis and I are the only ones you needed to see, right?”

“Yes.” When I got a closer look, Shuuhei didn’t look very happy either.

“So what happened exactly?” I looked between him and Cho before continuing. “Is it that serious?”

The look on Shuuhei’s face was a grim one. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ll just cut to the chase this time since we only have a limited amount of time to act here.”

There were plenty of chairs in the room to sit down in, but Bro, Al and I remained standing, which ended up being a good thing in the long run since Shuuhei beckoned us over to him soon enough. “About an hour ago, we received some intel that the Chang-Los are planning to go after the Element Spheres.”

A wave of silence passed between us. I didn’t think any of us were expecting to hear that. Then Bro was the first to speak up. “What are they trying to do? Do they plan to destroy the spheres?”

“Not exactly.” Shuuhei looked between the three of us. “Have any of you heard the myth surrounding the Element Spheres?”

We all shook our heads. “I didn’t think so. Alright then, I’ll make this brief. Legend says that when all five spheres are brought together, they have the power to combine and create a single, more powerful sphere. It goes by the name of the Quintessimal Sphere, and it has the power to control all five elements alone. That is what the Chang-Los are after. Or more specifically, that’s what Heng is after. What he really wants is to create the Quintessimal Sphere.”

Al shifted his footing beside me. “Wait wait, hang on a second. Who the hell is Heng?”

“Heng Chang-Lo,” Cho piped in from her corner. “He’s the leader.”

“Oh. Okay then, never mind.”

“Wait,” I put my hand up slightly. “You said it forms by combining all five spheres. Since the spheres are a magi power source, wouldn’t that have an effect on any Elemental mages?”

“You’d think that, but no. According to our intel, Heng thinks he’ll be able to wipe out all Elementals if he creates and uses the combined sphere, but that won’t be the case. The Element Spheres will only have been combined, not destroyed, so it shouldn’t have any negative effects on Elemental mages whatsoever.”

“Oh, well that’s good!”

“However, we’ll have a different problem on our hands. The Quintessimal Sphere’s power is so great, it’s near impossible to control it. And as such, it will most definitely cause a chain reaction and destroy everything in a very wide radius. If Heng does succeed in creating it, a lot of people are going to die.”

Al’s face went dark. “... This has happened before, hasn’t it?”

The look on Shuuhei’s face said it all, despite the blindfold. “Unfortunately, yes. The last successful attempt occurred several centuries ago. There aren’t many known details about it, but it’s been stated that the damage caused by the Quintessimal Sphere was massive enough to wipe out entire civilizations.”

“Successful attempt? You say that as if there’ve been multiple attempts since then.”

“That’s because there have been.” Shuuhei glanced over at Cho before continuing. “The last attempt happened back in 2005 in Japan, and ETMA was one of the groups in charge of handling the situation.”

“Oh that’s right,” Bro mused. “I always keep forgetting that there are other mage organizations besides ETMA.”

“Right, well ETMA is certainly by far one of the largest, so it can be easy to overlook. Anyway, though we were able to stop the last attempt from succeeding, we can’t afford to rest easy. We’ll have to act fast if we’re to put an end to Heng’s plans.”

“So what are we going to do then?” I asked as I folded my arms. “If he’s going after the spheres, we’ll have to beat him to it, right?”

“Yes, retrieving the Element Spheres will be one of our top priorities, that’s for sure. But the spheres themselves aren’t the main concern.”

“How so?” Al narrowed his eyes at Shuuhei. “I mean, if the Quintessti- no… the Quinessi- ah fuck. You know, the thing- gets formed by all five spheres combined, then…”

“Well, no matter what Heng does, it won’t be that easy. First of all, the specific locations of each sphere are all heavily guarded and can only be accessed by a mage. And even if Melisma can help him with that, there won’t really be that much danger by bringing all five of them together.”

“Okay, now I’m even more confused.”

“What I’m saying is that just bringing all five Element Spheres together in the same vicinity won’t cause the Quintessimal Sphere to form. By themselves, they won’t do a thing at all. In order for the spheres to combine into the Quintessimal Sphere, another key element has to come into play first.”

“And what’s that?”

Shuuhei digged through one of the file folders on the table in front of us and pulled out a single sheet of paper, handing it to me for us to look at. “This right here.”

It was a picture of a… well, a rock basically. From the looks of it, it was very small, and it was colored black and white, like the colors were split straight down the middle to look like one half was black, the other white. Judging by the picture itself, it didn’t look so harmless to me.

I skeptically looked up at Shuuhei. “This is the picture you wanted to show us, right?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“It’s a marble.”

“Yeah, I know, but don’t underestimate its appearance. This thing is deadly.”

“Okay, no, I’m with Em on this one,” Al placed his hand on my shoulder. “How is a freaking marble deadly to us?”

“Alright, let me explain. Looks can be deceiving. That right there is essentially the core of the Quintessimal Sphere.”

Bro gulped. “Th-the core?”

“Uh huh, right. As I said earlier, the spheres by themselves won’t combine. If they’re just left alone, then nothing will happen. However, if this ‘marble’, as you guys call it, comes into the picture and makes contact, the spheres will supposedly get drawn to it like a magnet. And then… Well, you all know what will happen next.”

I set the picture down onto the table. “Okay! So the bottom line is that the marble is 500 miles of bad road. What’s our plan then? I’m assuming we’re going to have to go and find that too?”

“Exactly. While the other teams are going to be sent to each sphere location to retrieve the Element Spheres, I’ll want you guys to go after the marble. With me so far?”

We all nodded, though I was still curious about one thing. “But why us in particular?”

“Because I’ve worked with ya before, and we work well together.” It was Cho who answered us. She straightened up and finally left her corner to join us around the table. “Also, Will’s super endurance’ll be pretty damn useful for this mission, so there’s that.”

“Cho is going to be leading the mission, in case you were wondering.”

“Ah, okay then. Gotcha. So do we know where to find the thing anyway?”

“That we do.” Shuuhei brought out another file folder and pulled out two printouts. “Going back to our intel. Each source has a different story to tell, but the fact remains that Melisma is most definitely involved with this one. One source says that Melisma is in charge of locating the marble and that they’ve pinpointed the location to Greece. The second source goes further to say that they actually found it.”

Al placed his palm onto the table. “So what you’re saying is that we’re basically going to be raiding a Melisma base then? All to find the yin-yang marble?”

“You got it.” Cho replied with a quick nod. “We go in, find the damn thing, and come back here with it. And of course, we’ll have to be on the lookout for Melisma agents at every nook and cranny, but no pressure! We’ve got this in the bag!”

Even though she did sound optimistic enough about it, Cho still seemed pretty distant. She looked a lot more calm than when Al and I first got there, but I knew those pent-up feelings were definitely not gone yet. She was keeping something bottled up, but I couldn’t question that at the time. We had a mission to complete after all, and I’d have to put that as my top priority for the time being.

“Well, if there aren’t any more questions, then I’ll go ahead and send you on your way,” Shuuhei said with a smile. “Does anyone feel the need for a rousing motivational speech right now?”

“No no, we’re all good. Save it for later dude.” Cho side-waved him as she lead the way out the door. “We’ll be back later!”

“Alright then, good luck!”

I was the last one out. As soon as I took one step out of the room, a wave of heavy pressure jabbed at my backside. It was startling, but also felt kind of familiar, and I came to the conclusion that it was, without a doubt, someone’s aura. And not just anyone’s aura.

He may have kept his emotions at bay during the briefing, but one thing was for sure: his aura felt at least ten times stronger, and much more threatening, than Cho’s ever did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

alright guys, PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK! I’M BEGGING YOUUUUU!!!

#my story #my ocs #my emma parker #my ls ch2 #now we're getting down into some more serious stuff here #this kickstarts the first major conflict in the plot #enjoy guys!

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