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lyranova · 3 years

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Children of the Future:

Chapter 2: Questions

Hi guys! Here’s chapter 2 as promised, I hope you guys like it I’m sorry if it isn’t very good 🥺. Again Hikari isn’t mine nor is Josslyn or Ace ☺️! Anyway I hope you all enjoy!

Taglist: @eme-eleff (if anyone wants to be added please let me know 🥺!)

Word Count: 2,236

Warnings: None

———

This was not how Charlotte thought today was going to go. She didn’t expect to be standing in front of the Black Bulls base with Yami and their daughter, Hikari, she had hoped it would just be a simple meeting with Julius and then she would go back to the Blue Rose Knight headquarters and be able to finish her paperwork, but instead she was hit by this curveball. She watched as Yami hesitated to walk into the hideout, which somewhat confused her since he was normally such a confident man.

“ Oh boy,” he sighed as he scratched the back of his head. “ This is going to be one pain in the ass.” He shook his head before he placed a hand on the door knob.

“ They’ll understand. Even if they have a hard time with it at first.” Hikari told him with a nod, she had to admit she was a little unsure herself, especially if she was in the year that she thought she was in. She looked at both her parents out of the corner of her eye; they weren’t together yet it seemed. She watched her father and mother, well, Charlotte and Yami since she didn’t think they would really feel comfortable about being called mom and dad at the moment.

The loud rambunctiousness of the Black Bulls instantly quieted once both Captains and Hikari walked in, Luck and Magna were fighting as usual, Vanessa was drinking as normal, and the others were eating while trying to dodge Magna and Luck’s battle. Yami looked over at the two.

“ Hey knock it off!” He said loudly, the two boys stopped instantly, all the Black Bull members frowned in confusion and came over to the three standing by the door.

“ Um, Captain Yami? Why is Captain Roselei here?” Asta asked in confusion, causing Hikari to smile slightly, as an adult he hadn’t changed at all since he was a kid. The others nodded.

“ Well, it’s kind of a long story.” Yami said with a sigh. Charlotte nodded in agreement.

“ Oh, did we get a new member? Is that why the Wizard King sent for you?” Vanessa asked as she spotted Hikari, instantly Finral’s eyes lit up in the way they usually did when he saw a pretty girl.

“ Hello! My name’s Finral, and might I ask what your name is beautiful?” Finral asked as he came over to Hikari, who only blinked in confusion, this Finral was definitely not the same one she grew up with! Yami instantly turned and grabbed the top of Finral’s head tightly, he glared at the young man.

“ Finral, do me a favor? Stay away from my daughter!” He growled out before moving Finral back toward the group once the spatial mage had nodded in agreement. Charlotte couldn’t suppress the small smile that slid across her face; he only knew Hikari for a couple of hours, and yet he was already protective of her. It was adorable and was added to the long list of things she loved about this man.

‘Wait, no, how can you even think of that four letter word right now Charlotte?!’ Her brain screamed at her, she shook her head to clear it and felt her cheeks burn slightly. She sighed as the young Spatial mage instantly backed up and sat with the others.

“ Yes sir Captain Yami!” He replied in a shaky voice. Yami sighed as he pulled out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth. Hikari cleared her throat and looked at him.

“ Didn’t I already tell you those are bad for you?” She asked with a glare similar to Charlotte’s, Yami glared back, neither he nor Hikari were backing down.

“ That’s enough you two.” Charlotte scolded as she stood between them, Yami sighed for the third time that evening but he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, leaving Hikari smiling triumphantly.

“ Wait...Captain Yami? Did you say ‘daughter?’” Asta asked suddenly, picking up on the detail everyone seemed to miss in the Captain's statement to Finral. Yami looked away as the Black Bulls looked from him to Hikari and back again.

“ WHAT!!!!” They all shouted in unison before suddenly surrounding the girl and asked a million questions, some were asking who her mother was, some asking her age, and a bunch of other questions she couldn’t quite catch.

“ Alright that’s enough you guys.” Hikari said in a commanding tone, similar to Yami’s, all the Black Bulls behaved instantly and stopped their questioning. Hikari laughed softly, they were even scared of her in this year, just like they were at home. She must be more like her father than she imagined.

“ Now, one question at a time. First, yes I really am his daughter. Second, I’m from the future not a ‘one night stand’ nor a ‘secret love child’. Third, I’m 19 years old.” Hikari continued down the list until she came to the last question. “ As for my mother, well…” she trailed off while looking at Charlotte, who blushed instantly.

“ WHAT!!!” They all shouted again, causing the Captains and Hikari’s ears to ring. Why were they always so loud?

“ But Captain isn’t she…?” Finral trailed off, trying to find the right words so he didn’t make the Captain angry.

“ Out of your league?” Zora finished, causing everyone to blink at him. Yami just rolled his eyes, he wouldn’t say it out loud, but Zora was right; Charlotte was out of his league, she deserved someone better than him. She deserved someone of high status such as herself, but again, he would never admit this.

“ Listen brats, right now we’re all pretty tired and are trying to process all of this. How about you guys go get some sleep, while the Prickly Princess and I talk to our kid.” He ordered, the Black Bulls nodded before Noelle suddenly paused.

“ Sir, may we ask more questions tomorrow? If we have any that is.” Yami shrugged and pointed a thumb toward Hikari.

“ That’s up to her.” He said, she watched as all the Black Bulls had slight hope in their eyes. She couldn’t help but laugh. Nope, they hadn’t changed at all.

“ Of course, although, there may be some things I can’t tell you.” She told them in a light hearted but serious tone, the members all nodded before heading to their respective rooms.

Yami walked over to the couch and sat down with a tired sigh, that's all he seemed to be doing right now was sighing. Charlotte and Hikari sat down as well and all was silent, none of them knew who should start the conversation and what questions to ask. Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in her seat, Hikari did as well. Yami watched the two, as far as personality went, Hikari seemed to be very much like him, but look wise she was identical to Charlotte but with dark hair. She also had similar mannerisms to the Prickly Queen as well, the way she tapped her foot on the ground in slight nervousness, the way she seemed to analyze her surroundings. There was no mistaking it; she was their child for sure.

“ So why are you here?” Charlotte finally asked, Yami was curious as well but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask that question. Hikari shrugged as she sat back in the chair and crossed her arms.

“ I’m not too sure myself to be honest,” She looked away and rubbed the back of her neck, just like Yami has done many times before. “ all I know is my parents told me I had to walk through the time gate and not to ask questions.” She told them as she looked away in thought, the memory probably flashing through her mind.

“ There must be a reason.” Yami said as he crossed his arms as well, Hikari nodded in agreement.

“ I’m sure there is, but they didn’t think to tell me, especially since they practically rushed me out the door. Whatever it was, it must have worried them.” Hikari said softly, the two Captains looked at each other. It was very rare the two of them seriously worried about anything, the last time the two had been worried was during the Dark Triad and the invasion of the Spade Kingdom.

“ Did you come alone?” Yami asked after a minute of silence, he wanted to change the subject just a bit, especially since he knew Hikari couldn’t tell them much about why she was sent here. Her Qi told him everything he needed to know, well, mostly anyway.

“ Yeah, I was supposed to come with my little sister Hana. But the portal pulled me in before I could grab her, I’m not sure if she walked through it afterwards or not.” Hikari said, her face full of worry, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if Hana had come through the portal and was now lost or injured. Just the thought of it upset her and made her want to go looking for her, but she didn’t even know if Hana had walked through the portal at all!

“ You have siblings?” Charlotte asked softly, she had to admit, it was surprising to think she even had one child with Yami, but now knowing she had two with him? That was beyond shocking, this had to be a dream! It had too!

“ Yes. But I won’t tell you how many, because y’know, spoilers and stuff.” She said with a mischievous wink, the kind when someone knew something you didn’t and would tease you about. Charlotte hmphed and sat back, almost as though she were pouting.

“ Oh also, you can’t ask me how or when or even if you two get together. Because of spoilers and the possibility of it affecting my timeline negatively.” Hikari added. Yami frowned.

“ How do you know about all of this?” He asked curiously.

“ Well, this was all the information I was told when I was being dragged to the portal. You of course were the one who told me, as for who told you, well you’d be surprised.” She laughed.

“ Let me guess, ‘spoilers’?” Yami asked in irritation, when the girl nodded he shook his head. He suddenly turned and looked out the window, the sun was going down.

“ I should be heading back, tomorrow we’re supposed to move into our new living quarters. I need to pack and prepare my squad.” Charlotte said as she stood and walked to the door. “ Will you be alright here Hikari?”

“ Of course! I already know where my room is by the way, I think I’ll go on ahead and head that way myself. I didn’t realize how tired I was until now.” Hikari announced standing up and heading towards the girls wing of the hide out. Yami stood and walked over to Charlotte, waiting until he knew Hikari was out of earshot.

“ Do you think she’s lying?” Charlotte asked in a hushed tone, Yami shook his head.

“ No. She’s telling the truth. But I do wonder, why would we send our kid through a portal without explanation?” He muttered, Charlotte looked in thought for a moment.

“ Maybe we didn’t have time?” She suggested, Yami nodded in agreement.

“ That’s probably the answer, but it leads to another question,” he looked at the blonde seriously. “ what was so dangerous that it made us send our own daughter away?”

—-

Hikari looked around the empty room, slight sadness in her heart; it was pretty empty save for a bed and desk. All the things she had added to it over the years were no longer there. But that was mostly because she didn’t exist yet, maybe she never would after all of this. She closed the door softly behind her and walked toward the bed and laid on it. Why didn’t her parents tell her what was going on? Why send only her through the portal? In fact, why send her to this year of all years? She growled in frustration. Why was the only question running through her head.

“ I need to get some sleep, otherwise I’ll be too tired to answer their questions.” She muttered to herself as she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes tightly, she silently hoped everyone would be ok, that they’d all be safe until she returned. As she slowly drifted off to sleep a bunch of faceless people flooded her mind, and a smile appeared on her face.

Three young girls, two with blonde hair and one with silver. A young girl with dark blue hair and brown eyes, her brother with dark brown hair and blue eyes and a stoic look on his face. Another young man with a small easy going smirk with pink hair and purple eyes. A young girl, her best friend, with pink hair and mint green eyes looked at her sternly, but did manage to smile. The last one, a young man with white hair and piercing blue eyes that held nothing but warmth in them, a soft smile on his lips as he looked at her. Her smile only widened.

Her friends, they would all be ok. She knew it.

——

Ah i hope you guys liked it! I’m sorry again it isn’t very good 😅. But anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks for reading and i hope you all have a good day~!

#children of the future #black clover fanfic #yami x charlotte #oc; hikari #not my oc #yamichar #charlotte x yami #yami sukehiro #charlotte roselei #black clover #black clover fanfiction

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josefavomjaaga · 3 years

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Eugène and his Bavarian family

This is the second part of the answer to the question by @mademoisellewhistler about Eugène's friends, this time dealing with Eugène's relatives by marriage, the royal family of Bavaria. Thank you once more for the Ask.

(Max Joseph, his second wife Karoline and their five daughters, painting from 1821)

***

Let's start with his spouse, Auguste. In short, she adored him. After having yielded in tears to the raison d'état and sacrificed herself for the fatherland (her own words) at Christmas 1805, she apparently realised rather quickly that she had not made a bad bargain when she gave up her cousin Charles. At the end of May 1806, Eugène for the first time had to leave her for a few days, and she whined about it in letters to anyone who would listen, Napoleon included. (Napoleon must have been quite puzzled by this; things had been very different in his own marriage).

After all, who could have guessed that this totally unacceptable bridegroom would turn out to be such a nice guy?

Napoleon was otherwise not very successful as a marriage broker, but this marriage, which he had coerced, actually turned out to be very happy, and my impression is that he was immensely proud of it. However, he was to suffer as a result of this success, because Auguste soon felt that her Eugène was getting the short end of the stick compared to Napoleon's brothers and brothers-in-law. Napoleon charged him with most of the work, but the royal crowns and honours went to other people. From the time of his divorce from Josephine at the latest, she was not at all well disposed towards Napoleon. But that is another story. Even the loss of his position could not change her affection for Eugène. On the contrary, we have some of the most touching letters between them from this period.

Next, Eugène’s father-in-law, King Max Joseph of Bavaria. In short, he adored him. If Auguste hadn't married Eugène, Max would probably have done it himself, just to keep this guy in the family. This was exactly the son he had always wanted, handsome, polite, cheerful, well-mannered, brave soldier and, above all, French! (And what had fate given him instead? Crown Prince Ludwig.) Eugène and Max Joseph were, in Auguste's opinion, very much alike in many ways; no wonder they got on well together. Max took a lively interest in all things concerning Eugène and Auguste; when Auguste finally gave birth to their long-awaited son in 1810, he wrote from Munich that he had not been able to sleep all night because of his excitement and happiness at the news. Normally I would consider this a rhetorical phrase; in Max's case it is probably to be understood literally.

The relationship between Eugène and Max Joseph seems, as far as can be deduced from the letters, to have been more family-like than that between Eugène and Napoleon. Towards Napoleon, Eugène always maintains a very submissive, respectful tone; Napoleon is always "Sire" and "Votre Majesté". But he addresses Max as "Mon bon père", my good father, and in his letters to Auguste he likes to speak of "notre père", our father, referring to Max.

I have already written about the negotiations that took place between the two of them in 1813/4, even though they belonged to opposing camps.

They also quarrelled - once, over Tyrol. Max Joseph did not agree at all with a proclamation that Eugène had published, and wrote to him about it. Whereupon Eugène wrote to his wife almost in despair, oh crap, crap, crap! Now I've quarrelled with your father over this thing, I hate this Tyrol!

(The disgruntlement did not last long.)

Eugène's early death hit Max Joseph hard. According to Planat de la Faye, he never afterwards referred to his son-in-law as anything other than "mon pauvre Eugène", my poor Eugène.

Crown Prince Ludwig. In short, he hated him. Or possibly not. Unless he did. In any case, he hated everything French and in particular everything connected with Napoleon, which at least at times certainly included his French brother-in-law. He got so upset about his sister's forced marriage to the unworthy Beauharnais that he wrote a play about the matter over the next few years (a tragedy, some of it being unintentionally funny if you know the actual story).

Of course, the guy, on the other hand, was very very nice. But that didn't change the fact that he was French. "Of all the Frenchmen, Eugène is probably still the best," Ludwig is supposed to have said. This was probably the greatest compliment Eugène could expect from his brother-in-law.

In part, Ludwig's dislike may have been jealousy. Ludwig and Max Joseph did not get on at all; Ludwig probably feared that Eugène would replace him with Max. Napoleon did not make matters any better when he occasionally pointed out that crown princes could also be shot for disobedience and that, after all, Eugène's children were also grandchildren of the Bavarian king.

On top of that, Max Joseph and Auguste had the idea that good-natured Eugène should speak to Ludwig's conscience from time to time about Ludwig’s attitude towards the French Emperor, his frequenting of dubious taverns and the good behaviour of crown princes in general. Eugène did it, as he did almost everything he was told, but it did not go down well at all with Ludwig.

When Eugène finally ended up in Bavaria after the fall of the Empire, the rivalry escalated to the point where Louis wanted to duel him (he was quick with duel demands - he knew full well that someone would always stop it). He prevented Eugène's children from becoming part of the royal family, and it almost came to the point that Eugène and his family would have left Bavaria again. In the end, Auguste wrote a bitterly blunt letter to her brother, and they came to an arrangement.

And, as I said, Eugène was a terribly nice guy. Besides, he had bought a small castle outside Munich, in Ismaning, at just the right distance from town to ride out there in the morning and then have breakfast with sister, brother-in-law and nieces and nephews ... which Ludwig, when he was in Munich, did regularly. Apparently his aversion to all things French did not extend to breakfast.

Queen Karoline of Bavaria, second wife to Max Joseph and stepmother to Auguste. Which I guess makes her Eugène’s stepmother-in-law? In short: Undecided. In theory, she couldn't stand Eugène. In theory, she never forgave him for stealing her little brother's bride. In theory, she was forbidden to like the guy if only because he was Napoleon's stepson and she didn't like Napoleon, being sister to the tsarina. But in practice it was always so hard to keep up that dislike once you met him, with him being so damn charming.

When Eugène came to Bavaria, relations were quite strained, especially between Auguste and Karoline. On the other hand, Eugène simply became part of the family. There are touching letters from Karoline about Eugène's death, in which she describes in detail to her mother how he was no longer able to speak at the end and took her hand and put it on his heart to say goodbye ... when reading this, one has the feeling that she was truely very touched and that she really had to get something off her chest.

By the way, there was a second source of conflict between Eugène and Karoline: Karoline's sister, Friederike, was the wife of ousted King Gustav of Sweden. And Eugène married his daughter to the son of the "usurper" Bernadotte. Karoline was not happy about this.

Auguste’s younger brother, Karl Theodor, called »Charles« in the family. He was still a child when Auguste left for Italy but seems to have liked Eugène from the beginning. In spring 1813, when Eugène was at the head of what was left of the Grande Armée, Karl Theodor wrote him an urgent letter and begged that Eugène would call him to the army as his ADC. Eugène, having his hands full with generals who turned blind and deaf with shock when orders came in, and soldiers who broke down in fear at the word "cossack", wrote back politely but firmly that now was a very bad time. Maybe later, when war resembled war again.

During his time in Bavaria, Karl Theodor was one of Eugène's friends in Munich, but he was only the second son, with future King Ludwig calling the shots. Eugène made him executor of his will.

How Auguste's younger sister Charlotte, the family's ugly duckling, viewed Eugène, I don't know, but she seems to have been more on Ludwig's side. Auguste's younger half-sisters, born of Max Joseph's marriage to Karoline, were close in age to Eugène's children, with whom they often played together. It is said of Ludwig's eldest son, the future King Maximilian II, that he always retained very positive memories of his French uncle, especially because Eugène was the exact opposite of the authoritarian, stubborn and stingy Ludwig.

And then there is somebody who was not officially part of the family, but factually: Auguste's old governess, Madame de Wurmb, called "Machère", whom Eugène had, so to speak, co-wed. "Machère" had substituted for Auguste's mother, deceased at an early age, and meant a great deal to her. Throughout her life, she kept a strict regime over her former pupil and, since she accompanied Auguste to Italy as a lady-in-waiting, also over Auguste's husband. Planat de la Faye, who met her in 1822, gives a rather amusing description of her. She had still been brought up in "Ancien Régime" Paris and lived entirely according to its principles (or what she regarded as its principles). When, after the end of the Empire, Eugène and Auguste travelled to Baden with very little luggage and entourage for financial reasons, and Eugène helped his wife into the carriage himself for want of a servant, the world came to an end for Madame de Wurmb ...

"Machère" probably never really forgave Eugène for daring, as a mere Beauharnais, to marry "her" princess. But she had to acknowledge that he made Auguste very happy, and that most of the time he really did behave as if he were a real prince (or what Machère regarded as one).

Eugène's biographer Adalbert of Bavaria suggests that Napoleon advised Eugène upon his marriage to first take the old governess to Italy and then throw her out as soon as possible. Which, of course, good-natured Eugène never did. There is a very funny anecdote about the first meeting between "Machère" and Napoleon, which Napoleon himself reported and which I will reproduce here soon anyway. In his letters to Auguste, Napoleon sent greetings to the lady every now and then - or maybe that was his way of finding out if the old dragon was still there and if it was already safe to visit Italy...

#eugene de beauharnais #napoleon #king max joseph #auguste von bayern #karoline von bayern #max joseph #eugene's marriage #ludwig i #bavaria #munich

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uberaalison · 4 years

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So because I’m still so shook over the amount of PLL fans who absolutely worship Emison and insist that Alison became some absolutely redeemed, adorable angel and how dare anyone dislike her, let’s recap her actions from the beginning to the end of the series:

Constantly fat-shamed Hanna and then followed up by teaching her to throw up her food as a way to “get rid of” the weight

Slut-shamed Hanna the first time any guy showed any interest in her, and made sure she knew it wasn’t because she could be viewed as attractive

Blackmailed Byron for thousands of dollars after finding out about his affair

Held said affair over Aria’s head for months on end and used it to manipulate her into doing whatever Alison wanted

Gave Spencer an ultimatum over her kiss with Ian and, as with Aria, constantly held it over her head

Led Emily on with sweet interactions and a kiss when she knew that Emily was in love with her

Completely ripped Emily apart, made her feel weird and wrong for liking girls, and pushed her back into the closet

Regularly teased Emily in front of others over her sexuality

Nearly outed both Emily and Paige by writing a fake love letter on Emily’s stationary and threatening to expose Paige’s response to it

Bullied Paige relentlessly, almost to the point of suicide

Threw a lit firecracker into a small space when she knew people were inside, blinding Jenna in the process

Proceeded to blackmail Toby into taking the blame and going to juvie, then created a false narrative in which Spencer was the mastermind behind the incident in case the girls were caught

Mercilessly bullied Mona, Lucas, and countless others

Drugged her friends the night of her disappearance

Knew that the Liars were being tormented by “A,” and not only did not return to help them, but never offered them any valuable information during her mysterious visits, and even outright claimed to know who “A” was and not tell them

Isolated Emily from the other girls with the narrative that Emily was the only one she could trust

Let Spencer believe that she could have tried to kill Alison, or killed Bethany, that night even though she knew Spencer was in agony over it

Immediately lied to the police upon her return, without so much as consulting her friends before dragging them into her kidnapping story

Claimed she returned Emily’s feelings right when Emily was about to go meet Paige, then used Emily’s attraction to her to manipulate her later in the episode (trying to kiss her when Emily was upset with her)

Immediately responded to “A’s” return by planning to run away again, thus leaving her friends to not only deal with “A” on their own - AGAIN - but to clean up the huge mess she left behind with her lies

Snuck around in Spencer’s backyard dressed as “A,” then became incredibly defensive when confronted instead of explaining

Staged a traumatizing attack on Hanna’s mom just so an adult would believe her story

Went behind the Liars’ backs throughout the entire Cyrus ordeal for her own self-preservation without including them in any of her plans, all under the guise of “keeping them safe”

Conspired with Holbrook to make sure that the questions asked during her lie detector test would cast suspicion on Spencer for Bethany’s murder

Showed up at Mona’s funeral wearing a heinously inappropriate dress, when she knew she was the number one suspect

Apologized in jail to Hanna for “bossing her around,” but not for the slut-shaming, fat-shaming, or encouraging her to develop an eating disorder

Nearly threw Hanna under the bus for Mona’s murder to save herself until Veronica reminded her of the negative effects it would have on *her*

Whined and bitched incessantly after the dollhouse about how difficult things were for her, straight to her friends who had been kidnapped and tortured

Did not hesitate to show sympathy and understanding for Charles, once again to the people who were tortured and kidnapped by this person

Responded to an argument with Hanna by refusing to attend Aria’s big gallery opening and not so much as texting her about it

Openly claimed that Spencer “never even liked her” when just months before Spencer had literally shielded her from gunfire with her own body

Attempted to demand that the Liars testify on Charlotte’s behalf and completely disregarded their feelings or trauma, even going so far as to send a cheery “good news!” text afterward

Proceeded to then throw all of them under the bus for Charlotte’s murder because Aria had to go back to work

Spent all of the last season moping and complaining instead of helping the Liars take down A.D.

Was a nasty, juvenile bully toward Paige, after she was supposedly so remorseful for how she’d treated her in high school

Made constant nasty remarks to her friends, such as screaming at Hanna to shut up, whining that when Hanna “panics like that I can’t even think,” and screeching “what the hell are you doing here?” at Aria

Snarking “grudge, much?” at the woman she literally blinded and never so much as apologized to

Threatened her 16 year old student

Okay but to be fair, let’s look at all of the good things that Ali did too:

Helped get the girls out of the dollhouse

Once asked Aria if she wanted something to eat

#pll #pretty little liars #alison dilaurentis #anti alison #emily fields #hanna marin #spencer hastings #aria montgomery #core four #pll rant

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neverendingparable · 3 years

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KuroŌji

This wouldn’t leave my mind until I wrote it. Inspired by the fact that no matter how cool a black butler AU would be, there’s no way Phobos would go around serving a human being (probably?). And so...

@sassycompanions

TW for mentions of torture through sleep deprivation, death, and demon shenanigans.

Sleep deprivation did all kinds of things to you.

He knew it well by now, the familiar agonizing ache of forced wakefulness, how it felt like to be so tired he wanted to sob or whimper or beg for mercy.

But the experiments kept on going, relying on his unwilling participation to find and remove whatever obnoxious part of the human mind robbed society those precious eight hours of their lives.

If they could cure sleep, they would change the world. And get very, very rich. And that sort of purpose is enough to dismiss a few human lives no one would truly mourn for.

Hallucinations were common. They twisted at the edges of his vision at first, then crept closer, getting bolder and more frequent. He'd hear breathing next to his ear and see no one there when he'd turn his head. Or the soft murmur of voices roused him from his miserable thoughts, lingering even when he'd focus.

Sometimes he'd like to imagine they were his shadowy friends, unable to help other than keeping him company for however long he had left. Or he'd imagine this was a horrid nightmare he could wake up from, that the cage and the needles and the never ending torture for the sake of science were nothing but a mean trick his mind was playing on him when in reality he was tucked away safely in some bed, safe and loved, the real world's whispers seeping into his dreams.

But as vivid as they were, they never interacted much with him, their shapes disappearing when he'd grasp at them.

So when one night, one of the shadows reached through the bars of his cage and gave him a curious prod, he knew something was off.

The sudden touch startled him so badly, he nearly leapt across the cramped space to get away from the shadowy hand whose owner, a dim face half visible in the darkness, was now watching him with amusement.

They stared at each other for a couple of moments.

This is a vivid dream, he thought finally.

Ah, not quite~ a voice responded in his head. It was melodic, with a hint of an accent he couldn't quite place. None of the previous voices were this coherent.

I've gone insane, haven’t I? Took long enough, I suppose.

Darling, you're not even halfway there yet.

The experiment closed his eyes and shook his head fiercely. When he opened it again, the shadow hadn't disappeared.

You're still here?

Did you think it would be that easy?

Who are you?

The shadow's smile stretched wider, inhumanely so and despite all the horrors he had gone through before, the sight struck him with dread. Its voice scratched on the inside of his mind like fingernails on bone, making him shudder.

เ ค๓ ץ๏ยг ฬ๏гรt ภเɠђt๓คгє

He wanted to scoff, laugh and tell the shadow it was a little too late to the party. But then it twisted its form, for just a minute, and the face that leered out from behind the shadows made his heart stop in terror. A beat later it was back to being indistinct, floating between the cage bars, amused at his ever growing fear.

Have you come to kill me? He thought, unsure what answer he was hoping for.

No, it grinned back.

Then...

Don't you remember? You called me. You want to make a deal with the ๔єvเl, you foolish human.

But don’t you see that no matter they do to you, เ ςคภ ๒є ๓ยςђ ฬ๏гรє~?

It prodded his forehead with a shadowy finger and he believed it. The experiments here could break his body before his spirit but this...demon, it could reach into his mind and cut the very cords that tethered him to sanity. It could probably rip his soul out if it wanted to.

But it was looking for something. It wouldn't have come just to kill an abomination that would be dead in less than a few weeks. He felt another thing right then, something more painful than the hellish torment his body had endured and with this tiny flame of hope burning inside of him, he reached out and asked to be saved.

Protect me, he begged. And I'll serve you however you want.

The being reached into the cage and he placed a hand in its cold palm. It seemed pleased.

We have a deal.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

"Just kill me already, please." Mason moaned, staring at the list of tasks he had just been handed with a mix of despair and annoyance.

Rooms to clean.

Supplies to stock up on, which meant a trip into town.

Writing and sending off letters address to various partners of his Lord, shady or dangerous people who dropped off packages and signed contracts even he didn't get to look at.

Tending to rose bushes, watering the garden, just to name a few.

"Tsk, that would go against our contract." Came the reply, filled with feigned indignance.

Mason's head snapped up and glowered at the man lounging on the regal couch, watching him with obvious mirth.

A butler who complained about work was worthless in most households and would be replaced by yes men who followed every command with a docile bow. But that would be too boring, wouldn’t it?

His Lord allowed him the occasional grumble without any severe reprimanding because Phobos took great delight in his suffering and never missed an opportunity to point out how serving a high maintenance prince was a hell of a lot better than rotting away in some moldy cage.

He was right, of course.

"I restocked this yesterday!" Mason continued regardless. "And we don't have any guests over for at least another week, why do I need to clean the rooms out now?"

"You can't possibly know that," the prince replied, calmly picking up a porcelain tea cup with a graceful hand. "I may be expecting guests."

"Shouldn’t you tell me then? Seeing how I am your butler and need to know if we are expecting company?"

"Ah, do you?" Phobos' eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "It seems like you spend more time arguing and whining than being useful."

Mason opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Of course, my Lord." He sighed, giving him a disingenuous bow. "I apologize."

Phobos dismissed him with a wave that meant 'now don’t bother me again unless it has something to do with food, wine or actual entertainment' and Mason withdrew back into the kitchen to check with Charlotte if they have enough food for any surprise visits Phos the future threw at them.

(He was convinced that Phobos sometimes threw impromptu balls just to watch him scramble around desperately arranging catering and schedules at last second.)

When the shadowy figure had first pulled him out of that hell hole, Mason had expected a lot of things. A culling, perhaps. Hell. A place of punishment.

Instead, he got a butler costume, his name back and a grand, luxurious dark castle to look after, spoiled prince included.

Learning to serve was hard but Phobos refused to go easy on him, giving him elaborate instructions of how he wanted things and forcing him to spend hours perfecting the chores. When Charlotte eventually came into their midst, he was happy to hand over the cooking to someone else.

Mason never figured out why the prince kept them around - maybe out of loneliness or boredom or a hidden sinister plan yet to be discovered - but he kept up his end of the deal.

A few times, someone came for Mason. Their bodies never left the castle and he burned the remains in the basement's hearth.

Months after his rescue, a rich doctor stopped by for a visit. He had only one servant along, a sickly looking maid with hollow eyes. What had happened behind closed doors was unknown to them both, but when Mason came to serve tea, he found the doctor, lying in a pool of his own blood. He had sent the maid back into the kitchen before she could see the mess and wordlessly cleaned the blood off his Lord's hands.

Thus Charlotte joined their little party.

Mason learnt a few things about Phobos too, in the time they spent together.

He had a different name, once upon a time and a past he spoke of occasionally with a hint of derision and disgust. He had been a powerful tyrant, reflected in the way his guests spoke in his presence. He had a curse that tore him apart and left him exhausted, his room always smelling faintly of blood afterwards. None of Mason's questions were ever answered directly, so he learned to keep spare bed sheets and healing flasks at hand, knew how to recognize the signs of pain when his Lord was too proud to ask for help and ended up on a first name basis with the witches in town in his search for a cure.

You can't cure a demon, Phobos mocked him constantly.

Mason disagreed.

If a soul could be redeemed by a deal with the devil, then he felt quite confident of attempting the impossible.

#drabble #black butler au #sassycompanions #the masochist #torture tw #kinda open ended too?#i guess this just leaves room for more headcanons later

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randomoranges · 3 years

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and here we are for part two of the Beast hahaha

do you like supposed heartache???? because this is where it’s at. also fair mention of minor character death?

this is legit the fic of “have you ever wondered things about étienne? fear not for i may provide answers!)

toobadnoonereadsthesehahahahaha

The Five Times Étienne Fell in Love

PART II

They both quiet at the sound of her name and Edward is convinced he feels Étienne’s hand shake in his own. He rubs soothing circles with his thumb on Étienne’s hand and gives him the time to gather his next set of thoughts, letting him know that he’s here and that there’s no hurry.

“Do you still think of her?” He finally asks after a while, his curiosity getting the best of him, while also wondering if Étienne hasn’t decided that this little venture down memory lane is over.

“Sometimes,” Étienne answers after a beat, “If I hear her name, or out of the blues. Not as often as before, but – sometimes... Is it silly that I still have my wedding band?” He asks, touching the spot on his finger where the band must have sat, once, years and decades and centuries ago, quiet, as if afraid Edward will tell him that it is indeed stupid for him to still be attached to it. He doesn’t mention the grave he can no longer visit or the memories that seem to fade with each new year. He keeps those thoughts to himself and focuses on what he can still remember.

“No; I don’t think so. She was your wife, after all – you clearly cared for her.” He reassures him, offering him a soft smile.

It still comes as a shock to him, so many years later, that Étienne had been married. Willingly. That he’d had a wife and played house for a while. It’s such an un-Étienne like thing to do, but then again, Étienne had been a different person at the time. He tries to picture his boyfriend as a married man and wonders what he would have looked like; what he would have worn and such and mourns the fact that there are probably no images of the event.

“I did,” He admits, serious as all else. “I still remember how I met Charlotte,” He starts with a small smile ghosting over his face, his look far away as he thinks back to the encounter. “Ironically, we met at church. I was leaving mass and she was outside, begging someone to help her out. She – didn’t look good; ratty clothes, dishevelled and no one went to her, which was ironic, considering we were leaving church. There was something about her that pulled me to her – wanted me to help her. She was a little hesitant at first, but she came home with me. She was able to change and wash and after I made sure she ate something; I was able to get part of her story out.”

“She was from out of town – a day’s ride away, more or less and she was in the city since she’d gotten word that her brother was supposed to arrive that day. I never found out if her brother was real or not, but I never questioned it. She had no money, so she couldn’t stay anywhere in the city and when we went to check out the convents and such, they were all very full. The idea of letting her out on the streets was out of the question, so I let her stay at mine despite of what others could say. It just felt very – un-catholic to leave someone in need out in the cold. Charlotte obviously didn’t want to inconvenience me, but I really didn’t mind. I had space, we could make it work. I didn’t think it would turn into a semi-permanent thing, but the alternative didn’t sit well with me.”

Edward isn’t surprised; Étienne’s always been generous with his time and has had a tendency of looking out for others, in his own way. Étienne doing things his own way, regardless of what others could think also doesn’t surprise him. He supposes it’s one of the many qualities he’s admired in him.

“I still remember waking up that first morning and finding out that she’d made breakfast for me, as a way of thanking me for letting her stay. It seemed unnecessary, but she wanted me to know that she wasn’t taking advantage of me and that she really did appreciate it. I wasn’t about to complain – she was a good cook and even if I managed better then, it’s always a treat to have someone make food for you.”

“We struck a friendship from that day on and I soon realised that it was nice coming home and having someone there to unwind with and talk. It was incredibly less lonely. Even without the sex, I enjoyed her company and didn’t mind having her around. She was vivacious and had a sharp mind. We could talk for hours on end, really.”

Edward’s read many of Étienne’s letters about his feelings of being alone and it strikes him that then that his friend has always been after companionship, in one way or another, just to feel a connection. He even remembers Étienne writing to him about a new type of celebration they had in his city and how wonderful it was to welcome the first boat back to the port towards the end of winter. He’d thought it endearing at first and maybe a little silly, but he now realises that there had always been more to it and that Étienne has played a careful game of disguising his real feelings behind frivolous, silly things.

“Of course, everyone in town thought she was the devil, or at the very least that our arrangement was improper. Her hair was the colour of fire, they said, or an unaccompanied woman arriving out of nowhere was a bad omen. Hell, they even went after me, saying that I had bedded her and taken her virtue. Or that we were both going to hell for being unmarried and living together. I thought that was very hypocritical of them, considering the Son of God had befriended all sorts of people and had welcomed them all in his circle, but regardless what the people said, Charlotte was none of those things. She was better than all of them combined.”

“Growing up, marriage wasn’t what it is today – you know that; it was an arrangement of convenience – a best move made between families and such. There was none of this love garbage to it and frankly, it sounded a lot less complicated to me. I thought maybe being a city meant romantic love wasn’t something we could feel, since we represent our people or whatever – but then Jacques fell for Suzette and if anything, theirs was real, so surely, there had to be a way...” He trails off for a moment and sighs.

“Even after my talk with Jacques I didn’t get how it worked for him and at first, I didn’t even consider or think Charlotte and I would get married. She was my friend and she was staying with me until she could figure something out. On top of that, I saw what marriage did to some and I didn’t want that. Young women married off to older gentlemen, forced to have a slew of children, not ever able to do what they wanted – to explore the world and be who they wanted to be... No wonder Élyse didn’t have any interest in that either! I didn’t understand what the appeal was! But then, for all the horror stories I heard, I also heard of – feel good stories. People who married someone their parents had set them up with and then learned to love. I remembered some of my friends who’d seem happy in their new lives and – it didn’t look so bad. I thought that was it! This was how I was going to fall in love! If they could learn to love their partners, then maybe that could happen to me as well.”

Edward gives him a sympathetic smile. It’s endearing, to a point, how hard Étienne believed that eventually these “norms” would apply to him and yet, he also feels a little bad for the young man Étienne had been at the time, full of hopes and frustrations as he tried valiantly to fit in and be “normal” in his own way. He gets it, though, having gone down similar self-doubt patterns and having tried to “fit in” as well. He supposes it’s a mutual struggle many like themselves have gone through, but it still remains jarring to hear that even someone like Étienne, who was usually so self-assured and confident, had gone through such a phase.

“We became mutually attracted to one another a few months after Charlotte had shown up in town. Ironically, neither of us had wanted to bring it up, afraid the other would take it the wrong way. I didn’t want to seem like I expected her to sleep with me because I was letting her live with me and she didn’t want me to think that she was a harlot. Still, one night, after we’d each gone to our own quarters, we both found ourselves back in the kitchen around the same time, unable to sleep. I put on the kettle to make something warm and we started chatting, as we often did. It was relatively dark and between the oil lamps, waiting for the water to boil and everything else, we found ourselves huddling closer and closer for warmth. Somewhere along the conversation and the waiting, she leaned in close to me and made a grab for my hand.”

“It was all very hesitant – halting touches, curious looks, but it was clear what we both wanted and finally, I asked her – if I could kiss her – she was so close to me and so beautiful, but she could have said no and it would have been that. I wasn’t about to force something she didn’t want – never have and never will. Instead, she pressed closer to me and kissed me first. It was a beautiful thing, really, and it’s a good thing I had half a mind to shut everything off, because we never did get around to tea and instead we went back to my bedroom.”

There’s a soft smile that blooms on Étienne’s face; nostalgic and sweet and Edward dares to think that that in itself is a thing of beauty. Étienne’s hands get lost in Mercury’s fur and for a moment, he remains silent, most likely reliving his memory and whatever images his mind can still conjure of Charlotte. Edward doesn’t interrupt, knowing how powerful these memories can be.

“Afterwards, she quietly admitted that she wasn’t a virgin, afraid I would judge her for it, as though that was supposed to be the end all of things and I reassured her by telling her that I wasn’t either. It must have been the right thing to say, because she laughed and laughed. At the time, it was the greatest of sounds and I wanted to hear it often. We stayed up all night, spending our time together and navigating this new thing between us. One moment we would be kissing, the next we would be talking and in the end, we stayed up to watch the sunrise together.”

“I can’t say that it’s when I fell in love with her, but it felt as though I had found an equal of sorts. In fact, I’m not really sure when it happened, but I know I did come to love her over the three years we were together. She was free to do whatever she pleased during the day and I never demanded to know her every whereabouts. I liked that we could each do our own thing and see to our own occupations and that we could coexist side by side. We always made it a point to have breakfast together at the very least and it was so beautifully domestic and peaceful. For the first time, I felt – happy. Truly happy. It was a good life, really.”

“The rest of the community eased up on her when they saw that no ill had befallen me and that no illegitimate children had appeared nine months later, but – they never fully welcomed her. She was still cast out and I could tell it bothered her. She tried to immerse herself in the city; tried to find work and do something of her days, but few were the people who genuinely tried to connect with her and it angered me.

Charlotte was so kind to them – never had a bad word to say and she was always aware of the families that were struggling or those who were in need, but no one ever showed her an ounce of that same compassion. She had never done anything wrong to them – she’d just been an unfortunate woman down on her luck. I could only imagine what would have happened to her had I not stepped in that day. And yet, even if I never really knew her real story, even if sometimes I felt as though she was keeping a secret from me, something old and ancient still pulled me to her and I never quite understood where that feeling came from. A sort of – connection. She never offered any background on herself, other than a brother who was supposed to arrive that never did. She had no family she spoke of and I never pried. We were happy together in our arrangement and that worked for me.”

“A little over a year after we started sleeping together, she came to me one day, frazzled and in obvious distress. She’d been out all day and I had noticed that something had been preoccupying her for the past few weeks. Every time I had asked her, she had brushed me off and told me that it was nothing, but now she sat me down and announced that she was with child. I – didn’t believe her. It was impossible. I couldn’t have children – people like me couldn’t have children. Clearly, I would have known if it was possible. Jacques and Suzette didn’t have a flock of their own and lord knew they were enthusiastic enough about the process of it – so there had to be a mistake.”

“Charlotte assured me that she was – the doctor had confirmed it for her earlier that day and for as much as I was scared shitless, I was also – excited - giddy. At whatever fluke had caused this. It didn’t matter to me if I wasn’t the biological father – I never forced her to stay with me, even though she repeatedly told me that she hadn’t gone behind my back. I would figure out the logistics later, but for the briefest of moments, I felt legitimately like a real human – I was going to have a family. I was with a wonderful person. I’d make it work out – somehow. At the time, it didn’t matter that eventually, both Charlotte and our child would grow and look older than me. All those issues were secondary to the immense joy I felt.”

It still surprises Edward to hear this part of the tale, much as it had when he had read about it, years and years ago. Not only because of Charlotte’s pregnancy, but by Étienne’s reaction as well. He had never considered his friend to be one who’d want children, if he could and he tries to picture Étienne with kids he’d be responsible for.

“Of course, the first proper thing to do was to marry her. This was my chance to try this very human ritual and so I made sure to be real proper about it. I think it cemented the fact for Charlotte that I wasn’t about to boot her out because she was expecting. It reassured her in a way and the idea had never crossed my mind. I cared for her deeply – I loved her even and we would be a real family!”

“We went as far as making the proper announcements of our engagement, but we were quick to marry. Élyse was our only witness. I didn’t want Charlotte to be met with more scorn and I wanted everyone to know that she was a wonderful person and that if they gave her a chance, they would also get to see that.”

“Beyond that we were giddy – at being together and married and at this child we’d be welcoming into the world. It felt surreal, like a fever dream – too good to last. There was so much to do that I didn’t even bother letting anyone know – only El and you in my letter. Élyse was just as surprised that Charlotte was expecting, but she didn’t buy into the idea that it was mine. Still, she let me have this happiness, but warned me that both Charlotte and the baby would age. She knew I would be wrecked when they’d go. I ignored her and told her to mind her own business. I would cherish this family. I would watch over each generation if I had to. I logically knew they’d grow old and die – that anything could happen to them, but it was a problem for later and I pushed it aside. This time around, I wanted to focus on my new growing family and found happiness.”

Edward wants to interrupt the story and make a comment or two at how it still sounds like the wildest of tales, however when he spares his boyfriend a glance, he still has that faraway look on his face. He seems happy and Edward doesn’t want to change that, even if it seems as though Étienne is no longer talking to him and simply reminiscing out loud.

“It seemed as though everything was working in my favour, but once more, winter showed up and took away everything I liked.” And just like that, a cloud comes crashing over Étienne’s previous good mood and chases his smile away. Edward wordlessly reaches for his hand and holds on to it, knowing what comes next. “Charlotte was six months pregnant when she woke up one morning in intense pain. It was snowing hard and when I went to find the doctor or the midwife, there was no way I could make it out. The snow was up to my knees and Charlotte wasn’t doing so good. Even having cleared the snow the night before, a freak blizzard had trapped us in and no matter how fast I tried to remove the snow, it wasn’t fast enough and Charlotte went from bad to worse.”

Étienne’s voice wobbles and breaks and when he next tries to take in a breath, it’s shaky at best.

“You don’t have to tell me the rest, if you don’t want to...” Edward offers gently. The last thing he wants to do is to put Étienne through even more heartache. That wasn’t the point of his initial question. He appreciates that his boyfriend is being open and is sharing this information with him, but not to the point of causing distress.

“It’s fine, really – this part always gets me. I want to tell you.” Étienne’s smile is watery and Edward gives his hand a tight squeeze. His boyfriend holds on to it as he goes on with his story and Edward finds himself wishing he could free Étienne of his burden.

“I knew nothing of childbirth, but I – I tried to save them both. I did what I could. I really did. The neighbour, bless her, came to help me out, having assisted with births all her life and – despite our best efforts, we lost them both. The baby was stillborn and Charlotte died a little later; whether her heart gave out or she lost too much blood is irrelevant. They were both gone. Taken away from me before I’d even had a chance to cherish them properly. I thought I’d have years with them – that we could be a proper family. Instead I barely had a taste and I finally knew what real heartbreak was.”

Edward finds his own eyes clouded with tears and he tries to be discreet when he wipes them clean. He notices Étienne do the same with the sleeve of his sweater and he brings an arm up to his back to rub gentle circles on it. Étienne leans into the contact and into his side and Edward kisses the top of his head as his boyfriend takes a moment to recompose himself. He says nothing when he feels Étienne’s shoulders shake and when Étienne excuses himself to blow his nose, he says nothing about it either.

Even after all these years and centuries, Edward feels as though this is only the second time Étienne has opened up about this chapter of his life. Already, his boyfriend isn’t one to share the emotional details of his life and he supposes that this had been a story he’d kept closer still to his heart.

He’s convinced the conversation will come to an end after that, but despite Étienne being too vulnerable and raw, he decides to continue on, now that he’s started, once he’s disposed of the tissue. The dam has been opened and he may as well let everything out. He resettles against Edward and the next part comes out like a whisper, a confession he makes to him and that Edward listens to attentively.

“I never wanted to live through that ever again, so I did my best to veer away from relationships. They weren’t my thing anyways. People fell in love left right and center and I didn’t have the heart to be the bearer of bad news. So I kept to my flings and figured this was the life I would lead. It would be easier for everyone, in the long run.”

Edward would like to believe that Étienne’s plan had worked out, yet he knows there is still much more left to the story.--

Part I

Part III

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

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Thursday 17 August 1837

Slept in blue room my mind seems comfortable made up A- had been preparing crownest and has wanted to be away from here for long how lucky I have not introduced to anyone! the sooner she goes the better

– Damp rather drizzling morning F61° at 8 am then clearing inkstands and mending pens and a little while at colliery accounts till George came at 9 to know if he should make my breakfast – no! not sure that I should breakfast then – went down to A- (at 9 5) – she had breakfasted at 8 expecting Mr. Horner – staid ½ hour with her –

talk over last night why did she not come to me this morning she did not know whether I should be glad to see her or not very sorry

I said the worst of it was she shook my confidence so terribly yes she knew that must be I said others could be made unhappy as well as herself I said this work would not do she must make up her mind to go or stay but she ought to go properly I said I really could not stand this I would do anything I could for her except one thing did she know what that was no I said no more but the one thing I kept to myself was that if she left me I would not take her back again I said she would be dull at Crownest by herself I could get off abroad in six weeks I thought however it seems to me she is sorry this morning and has no present intention to leave me Stevens was right that I should have a great deal of trouble with her well I shall suit myself I can have excuse enough for being off any time and letting her do her own way but while she is with me I must hold the rein tighter

wrote the last 15 lines in ¼ hour till 9 50 when A- came up to say she had made my tea – she sat with me at breakfast and till 10 and with her till she had written out agreement settled with Caggin the Hipperholme barman who came to say he had just had a letter to say he must leave the bar-house tomorrow so came for A-‘s hipperholme cottage lately occupied by ..... SW- had written a good character of Caggin so A- let him the cottage at 1/6 per week – to quit on a week’s notice and if not A- to take forcible possession – he to pay taxes and keep all in repair he signed the agreement without a moment’s hesitation - and also the condition of not setting up his combshop but wanted a place for one so A- and I went to look about one in the afternoon without saying a word about it to him – then out about all the morning and came in at one and sat at luncheon with A- and Mr. Gray – then out again – about – in the brew house chamber – Henry Ryle ceiling it off from the staircase – Robert and c° making and opening out (as yesterday the drain from the west tower water closets – pulled up the ground cistern that supplied the old water closets and make a large good drain all the way A- rode as far as Hipperholme quarry and I walked by the side (off from here at 1 10) she then dismounted and we walked into the village of Hipperholme and looked into the empty cottage lately occupied by .... and thought the little mistal would do for a combshop - then to John Pearson’s to ask the way to Ely Taylor’s the beer shop he wanting to get a regular public house licence – A’s tenants wife of the hare and hounds had met us at Hipperholme lane ends and told her talk of distress at the prospect of Ely Taylor getting a licence – we had consoled her saying he could not get one – A- would oppose it – and we had called too as we passed to look at Thwaites’ barn, and told him it only wanted a little painting – From John Pearsons’ to Ely Taylor farther (1/4 mile) from the Hare and hounds than we supposed - JP- went with us almost to the place – thought ET. ought not to have a licence – but he was promised one if he would vote for the yellows – A- and I then walked forward to Woodstop the little farm where my now clerk of the masonry works David Booth lives – very neat and nice – his little boy (John B-) went to the Coley sexton to have the church ready open for us – sometime at Booths’ and then sometime in the church – very neat pretty church the prettiest surely of our parish chapels of ease – really does credit to Mr. Bradley the architect - Long Laudatory lying epitaph to the monument of the late Michael Stocks of Catherine house, who deserved not his narrow escape from conviction of perjury at York – who was for several years a Fitzwilliam trading justice making about £2000 a year but ousted at last for some tangible enough to be disgraceful business brought forward by his brother magistrates and respectable neighbours who would neither act nor associate with him – a man whose litigious cleverness made feared, whose laxity of principle made the frequent overmatch of honester men and whose very name was a by-word of reproach! Hem! said I 2 or 3 times as I read over this monumental insult – and turning to little John Booth (Aetatis 12?) and the sexton, said is not this very like a pack of ........ what? but the discretion of the boy and of the man prevented the natural answer – from the church to Coley to see the old gateway of 1649 – neither so old nor so interesting as I expected – then along Coley lane to Shut saw Bancroft then by Priestley Green direct to the Crownest gates and Cliff Hill – Mrs. AW- looked pale and infirm but seemed glad to see us – sat ½ hour with her – (A- had Tiny with her – 1

time of shewing the dog at Cliff Hill) – A- at last much tired in returning from Cliff Hill and as we walked up the meer-walk – an hour in walking back and came in at 6 38 – I out about till 7 – the hall cellar door swollen fast – could not get in – dinner at 7 ¼ - A- sent off her letter to Miss Mary Briggs at Mrs. Rawdons’ near Liverpool respecting Charlotte Booth trying to get her the Lady’s maids place there – A- seemed less tired after her walk (during dinner and afterwards) than she has been for long – coffee – came upstairs at 9 ½ - A- went to her I had Mr. Gray in the tower determining and planning about water pipes and wainscoting the tower passage till near 10 – then a little while with A- and skimming over the paper – F63 ½° at 10 – damp morning gradually cleared towards noon – fine afternoon and evening

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thedeviltohisangel · 3 years

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Ivy//1

She wrote him a letter. It didn’t have many words but it said everything. Tomorrow, he was jumping into Normandy and she wasn’t sure when she would see him again. If she ever would. She folded it nicely and sealed the envelope, pressing a kiss to it for good luck. With a careful hand, she wrote his name on the front then just looked at it for a moment. She wishes she could say the word out loud. But, long ago, her and Dick had agreed they meant too much. That the words were sacred and shouldn’t be said when they couldn’t truly act on them. But she didn’t know how she was possibly going to say goodbye to him without saying them.

masterlist is my url/writing

accepting requests for this pairing

“There she is! Come to say goodbye to us? Maybe a little kiss for good luck?” Charlotte chuckled at Bill as she made her way across the airstrip all of them were waiting on.

“It’s not goodbye, it’s a see you later.” She’d refused to say goodbye to any of them. Nonetheless, she planted a kiss on his cheek. Red lipstick imprint and all. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“What the hell we gonna do if we get banged up before then?” That was Perco.

“Find one of the medics making the jump.” She had watched all of them jump with envy. It looked thrilling. Like something she shouldn’t be allowed to do nevertheless enjoy. Even worse, they had told her it was inappropriate for a lady to participate. She had gritted her teeth so hard she thought they would crack.

“You’re the only female touch we’ve had in a year. Now they want us to give it up because you’d have to wear pants to jump?” Bill said it more to the universe than he did her.

“You’ve been spoiled. It’ll be good to humble you a bit,” she teased back. She looked away from the group and scanned the horizon looking for the man she had come to find.

“To the left, doll.” She hummed her confusion back. “Winters. He’s to your left.”

“Bet he gets more than a peck on the cheek, right Wild Bill?” She was never at a loss for words but whenever it came to Dick, she was rendered speechless. Her cheeks were redder than the blood that rushed to them and she had to look at her feet in the hopes they had all the answers.

“Now, Joe, you’ve made the lass blush.” George slung his arm over her shoulders. “I’ll distract them while you run,” he said with a glint to his eyes.

“I owe you a beer!” she said with a smile as she took his advice and walked briskly where they had pointed her to. There were a few green tents set up on the side where the officers were looking at maps and using compasses to pinpoint where they were going to be landing once the real thing happened. When she watched Lt. Heyliger walk out, she assumed that was where Dick would be.

“Well, Nix, it looks like-” he stopped when he looked up.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she smirked.

“Charlotte. I thought you’d be knee deep in bandages and morphine.”

“I should be. But I had to see everyone one last time before you go. Make sure they tightened their harnesses and all that.” Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Her mind was having trouble stringing together sentences. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

“Well, I’ll make sure to check myself before they board if that helps.” Dick was in no better shape himself. The compass was trembling in his hands. His mouth was dry and he’d lost the ability to swallow.

“Here.” She thrust the letter at him unceremoniously. “Don’t open until the war’s over or I’m dead. Whichever comes first.” He looked at her in horror.

“You’ll be safe. They said…” he cleared his throat, “they said the aid stations would be set up far behind the front line.” That had been the only question he asked at the briefing. Nix hadn’t teased him about it afterwards.

“Still. For the darkest time only.” He nodded, relenting.

“Thank you.” They stared at each other a few moments longer in a futile attempt to remember every detail. Tears hovered right behind her eyes. Had he always had that many freckles? Had his eyes always been that clear? Had she always had that golden streak in her hair? Had she always looked like an angel?

“Don’t forget to look after yourself while you’re over there, okay?” She wasn’t going to ask him to be safe or be careful because she knew that wasn’t fair. There was no way he could promise her that. There was no chance she would put that on him. “I’ll look you up when I get there.” She turned to leave, not thinking she could hold back her tears for one more moment.

“I want to say it. I want to say it but I…” She turned back. His eyes were glassy too.

“I know. Me too. But we promised.”

“I would never break a promise. Especially one I made you,” he said with a small chuckle at the end.

“Dick,” she whispered his name in desperation. Just like always, he knew what she needed before she did. She fell into his chest and her head nestled under his chin like it was meant to. That only made her heart hurt worse. “I can’t handle the thought of never seeing you again.”

“Aries himself couldn’t keep us apart.” Because Dick didn’t think he could handle this being the last time he saw her either. Charlotte wasn’t going to make him promise.

“Don’t let any of the French girls woo you away from me,” she said in an attempt to lighten the mood. He let his guard down for a moment and knocked his forehead against hers.

“Not likely.”

“Hey, I was in the neighborhood-Oh sorry!” They jumped apart as Nix opened the flap to the tent. “Jesus go back to doing whatever you were doing! Ignore me!” He had already asked Dick to name their first born son after him. If only the man would kiss her.

“No, Nix, it’s your turn. I have to go finish inventory anyway.” She hugged the intelligence officer and stood in the opening, one last attempt at soaking it all in.

“See you over there?” Nix asked.

“Neither of you better be stupid enough that you need a nurse. But, in case you are, I’m the only one allowed to stitch you up so I can lecture you while doing it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Take care of each other.” She knew if she didn’t leave then, she never would. Like ripping off a bandage, she strolled out of the tent and fought every voice in her head that said to turn back. That told her to tell Dick how she felt. That she’d wait a lifetime for him. That the only future she could bear to think about was one with him in it. But she pushed it all down and marched back to her aid station. She watched the planes take off with the rest of them. Watched as the men she had learned to love as family went to a far away place to defend their country and the idea of freedom. And she prayed to God that if He was sending Dick Winters into hell, He would let her go too.

Charlotte got herself into a good routine. She woke up early, ate less than her share of the rations so she could give some to her favorite patients and then washed it all down with whatever it was they called coffee. Then she went around checking on supply levels, doing her best to make sure there was enough at the aid station and for all the medics on the front line. It was normally about then her name was called. There was no shortage of men being carted in. They were varied in their levels of pain but it struck her more so on how many of them wished to return to the line. Some of them seemed perfectly fine, practically begging her to recommend a medical discharge, when others were telling her to do the bare minimum so they could get back out there with the men.

“How are the men doing out there?” She had heard whispers about the men of Easy and their capture of the German guns at Brecourt Manor but nothing more than straws.

“We were all pretty spread out in the beginning but now that we are coming together, things are looking up.” Charlotte smiled at the soldier who had been lucky enough to only be nicked by a bullet. Only required a few stitches.

“Well, Private, you’re all good to go. Hopefully we don’t meet like this again,” she said with a smile as she gathered the dirty supplies.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He hurried off quickly and she was left with relative peace and quiet.

“You know, if you want news on Lieutenant Winters, you should just ask.” She turned to see Emma, another nurse.

“No because what if it’s not good news?”

“Either way. Knowing is better than you living your life hoping God will project the answer down onto you.” Charlotte hadn’t said his name since their last night in England. Had kept her ear to the ground in case someone mentioned something but she never out right asked. Maybe Emma had a point. Maybe, if something had happened, she should get it over with and start the process of healing. Maybe the next paratrooper that she saw she would ask about Dick Winters. If she had the courage.

For his part, Dick was being just as stubborn. It was the night after Brecourt, as he made a promise to himself that he would live his life in peace if he made it through, that the letter in his breast pocket felt heavy. None of the nurses looked familiar in the town they were staying in and he hadn’t had the courage to ask if anything knew of Charlotte or had seen her. He was afraid of what the answer might be.

“What’s that? A picture of her?” He looked to see that Nix had joined him.

“Maybe. She said not to open until the war was over or if she…” he just shrugged instead of finishing the sentence.

“Did someone say that? Has no one seen her?” Nix looked around wildly like he would start the manhunt now.

“Haven’t asked.” He tucked the letter back inside his jacket. She was stronger than whatever it was the world was going to throw at her. Of course she made it. She had to. He would know in his heart if she hadn’t.

“It’s been a long couple of days,” Nix mentioned as he watched Dick, “you should get some sleep. Carentan is next. Not going to be easy.”

“Yeah, you do the same.” They both managed a half smile. Too tired for anything more. Nix went to leave but stopped and turned back.

“Dick?” The man in question turned as a way of answering. “You’ll see her again. Things like that...it’s meant to be.”

“You’re lucky you just caught the ricochet,” Roe muttered as he pulled the bullet from Winter’s ankle. It dropped in the metal tray in a satisfying clink.

“Nothing too bad?”

“No. You gonna be able to stay off of it for a bit?” The sound of guns going off in the distance told Dick that he couldn’t.

“Doesn’t look like it.” Roe smiled.

“Stay here while I get the sutures.” Dick looked back down at the bullet. So small but so much damage. At least not to him. Maybe luck did have something to do with it.

“I’m going to go see if the surgeon needs any help, if things pick up back here just holler.” That voice. He would know it anywhere. It was like music to his ears. Home in a faraway land. Water in the desert. A balm against the rough rhetoric of war. “Dick?” Because she would know that face anywhere. It was a light in the dark. A warm mug of coffee on a rainy morning. The smell of your favorite food as you walked down the street holding hands with someone you loved.

If all around them was hell, they’d cut out their own slice of heaven. Right her. In an aid station in Carentan.

#dick winters #richard winters #damian lewis #band of brothers #dick winters fanfiction #richard winters fanfiction #band of brothers fanfiction

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skgway · 3 years

Text

1823 July, Tues. 22

1/2 hour in in the stable talking to the plasterer, and afterwards in the cow-house – Letter from M– [Mariana] (Lawton) dated yesterday,

“last Tuesday in coming downstairs my foot slipped and I fell down and sprained my right shoulder, till Saturday I was unable to use my arm at all, and even today I feel writing painful. xxxx has been my amanuensis but I am fearful of her, acting that part to you, lest you should fancy me worse than I really am” –

She thinks I “have exaggerated” her “feelings” on the subject of my last letter, “more than” her “letter warranted” – She seems to keep to her old opinions, yet so modifies them, that as she observes “to enter more upon the subject could do no good, therefore we had better drop it” –

She adds ‘I have never doubted your faith tho I have your prudence’ Wishes me to be circumspect. ‘I have a feeling on the subject which no earthly power can remove, and great as the misery which it would entail upon myself might be, I would endure it all rather than the nature of our connection should be known to any human being’

She had before observed that when she complained of my attentions to Miss Maclean I had owned they were foolish. I really don't remember this – Both Isabella and Charlotte told her last summer I did Mrs. M[ilne] harm –

Letter also from Miss Henrietta C– [Crompton] (Esholt hall) Disappointed at my not going – The Gilbert C– [Crompton]s still there – To stay till tomorrow – 4 pages the ends, under the seal, and the top of page 1 crossed – Miss Fawkes of Farnley speedily to be married to Sir Edward Barnes, governor general of Ceylon – She is to go out with him almost immediately –

“young Kaye is soon to marry Miss Arbuthnot with £60,000 – Accomplished and pretty, but I should hope weak for accepting him” – “Pray read ‘Quintin Durward’ it is charmingly interesting, I think superior to Peveril”

The C– [Crompton]s are going to woodend – They are to be at Leeds as today to see the exhibition – “Dr. Camidge has had a serious dispute with Mr. Greatorex where or how he is to stand” at the approaching musical festival –

Wrote the above of today, and went down to breakfast at 9 1/2 – At 10 3/4 in spite the perpetual showers (very rainy all last night) set off to H–x [Halifax] – A heavy shower at the top of the cunnery lane lasted till I stopt at Mrs. Wilcock’s door – Went in for 2 or 3 minutes to ask Miss Pickford if she would allow me to drive her to Haughend – (George rode Percy) – The Priestleys and Astleys, 2 Miss Butlers staying in the house, and Mr. John Edwards of Pyenest, all assembled in the drawing room soon after our arrival –

Sir John gave me 3 franks, for Mrs. Norcliffe tomorrow and for Miss Henrietta C– [Crompton] and Mr. Marsh on Thursday – Gave Mrs. H[enry] P– [Priestley] Mr. Marsh’s letter to read, and she instantly and handsomely gave me her name as a subscriber to Miss King’s poems – Lady A[stley] would have done the same, but Sir John, on reading the letter thought there was a particular etiquette to be attended to in these sort of applications – That he, as member for the county of Wiltshire, ought to have been applied to at home (at Everley) –

The printed names of the subscribers he knew well – Knew many of the people mentioned intimately – If Mr. Marsh applied to him, he would be happy to put his name down – Would be happy to do anything to oblige him – I might hint this when I wrote – Sir John had said I might hint this, before I asked his permission (it was granted) to tell Mr. M– [Marsh] that, if the thing was named to Sir John) I knew he would be a subscriber – The recent but worthy baronet took some pains to assure me, there was a certain etiquette in these matters, as member for the county, necessary to be attended to – He knew I was aware of this etc. etc. –

At this moment (5 p.m.) I am quietly smiling at all this importance – It might be a subscription for raising a Wilshire corps of volunteers, or for some great concern of vital consequence to the interests of the county and its members; instead of a 5-shilling subscription to a small volume of poems, published for the benefit of a poor girl and her family, reduced to indigence by agricultural speculations! ‘Tis but a little trait, but yet how biograph of Sir John!

On coming away, it was more than I expected to hear lady A– [Astley] invite me to Everley with seeming cordiality – I might visit Mr. Marsh – Winterslow was only (16 or 20 miles I forgot which) distant from them (the A– [Astley]s) and they would be very happy to see me – They are not to have Haughend till the 11th of next month; of course, therefore, I expressed my hope of seeing them again –

The 2 Miss B– [Butlers] are vulgar looking girls – Miss A– [Astley] seemed much at home with them – Appearances made no very individual distinctions between them – I suppose his contested election cost Sir John £70,000; and he has 12 or 14 thousands a year – Lady A– [Astley] said to me when I dined there, “Sir John is of a very old family – They were barons in the time of tilts and tournaments” – Does not the present importance of the house of Everley restless upon the manners than the money of the family? Perhaps their county is yet but young – But they are very civil to me, and little ween this ink shed of my pen –

From Haughend drove to Mill-house – Gave Mrs. W[illiam] H[enry] R– [Rawson] the letter to read she said something about hoping I was not begging for a subscription – There were so many subscriptions – With their family . . . . . . . but, seeing it was only 5 /. [shillings] said she never thought of my asking for anything less than a guinea, and handsomely enough gave me her name – Wanted to give me the money but this, of course, must be paid when the book is received – Saw 8 of the children (there are 10), and drove off to Thorpe –

Gave Mrs. J[ohn] Priestley the letter to read – She hummed and ahed, asked what Miss King – If she was related to the Kings of Wakefield – It was a long way off – Many charities at home – Of course, I agreed – Said it was quite enough if she had taken the trouble to read the letter, and instantly turned the subject – Which must have been a relief to her, as she had turned red, and might have hammered and stammered a little longer but for my ready consideration –

I guessed their dinner was waiting – and after staying a few minutes drove off – Made no remark on the subject to Miss P– [Pickford] marvelling, however then, as now, that she never once named the thing, or made the least offer to subscribe – How can this be? They say, or I fancy Miss P– [Pickford] has seven-hundred a year – She must be poor – Perhaps all she can spare is given to her friend Miss Threlfall – Yet not 5 /. [shillings] for an occasion like this! Many people can do what I think I could not – I know the value of money as well as most; but ‘tis the dross of gold, and may it never draw its dirty line along my spirit! –

Talked a little of Miss Threlfall as connected with beauty, flirting sentimentality, etc. Real refinement of sentiment perhaps almost peculiar to the lettered mind – At all events I could not concede it to a flirt – Wondered Miss Threlfall had never married. ‘She must have had some good offers’. Miss P[ickford] made no answer. I did not like to look full in her face but soon after said, ‘Forgive me, it is a very odd thing to say, but you are the last person in the world I should ever have thought of marrying. Tho you are very agreeable and I like your society I cannot fancy you making anyone happy in married life.’ ‘I forgive you,’ said she.

‘Have you’, I asked, ‘any objection to my making such a speech?’ She answered ‘no’. ‘I thought so’, said I. Convinced by her manner it was the thing to suit her, and persuaded that the connection between her and Miss Threlfall is most probably what I have all along suspected. The persuasion struck me. I laughed and said, ‘I can outwit you. I have more worldly nous than you.’ Said she, ‘I often think so.’ We smiled and parted. She must guess to what I alluded –

She had told me Doctor Macbride was not happy he married because he was young and his wife coquetted. In fact, he is a lettered man of fine and warm feelings which his wife cannot emulate or return. His good principles make him try to be happy, but he cannot. His wife is odd like a gentlewoman but not stylish not talenty. Her oddity is not of the gentle feminine king [kind] –

Got home at 3 after setting down Miss P– [Pickford] at Mrs. Wilcock’s door – Talking to my uncle and aunt – With the latter in the stable for a little while – Came upstairs at 4 3/4 – Wrote all the last page and so far of this which took me till 6 –

Did nothing in the evening – Came upstairs at 9 at which hour Barometer 1 1/2 degree below changeable Fahrenheit 57 1/2º – Rainy day – Fair and tolerably fine in the evening (vide the last line of page 74) –

At 9 1/2 sat down to write – Filled 1/2 a sheet to Mrs. N– [Norcliffe] to ask if she would have 1/2 a bed to spare for me in her house in Petergate, during the festival, and told her the news I had this morning from Miss Henrietta C– [Crompton]. Then wrote 3/4 of a 1/2 sheet to Mr. Marsh – the following is what I have written about the subscription

“Shibden Thursday 24 July 1823

My dear Mr. Marsh – I received your letter on Sunday, and an only assure you, it is one of the most unlikely things in the world, that I should think any application you write can or will make, “impertinent” in any sense of the word. It will always give me real pleasure to do anything that can at all oblige you; more particularly when an obligation is, in fact, conferred on myself, thro’ the satisfaction that one always feels in doing the good, however small, which may be in our power –

As far as I am individually concerned, your simple request would have been enough; but I can say this much for myself alone, and am sorry to add, that my intercourse with my neighbors is too limited, – too infrequent, – to give me any claim upon them in behalf even of so meritorious a young person while she is so distant and unknown –

I had a letter from Miss Marsh the other day, in which she mentioned having got you 48 subscribers – The paltry addition I can make, might not be named even with the widow's mite – But will you put down my uncle’s name and my aunt’s for one copy each, and my own for two copies?” ––––

Unless my mind changes, I shall not trouble my neighbors much about subscriptions, however small – I shall explain the thing to Mrs. Henry Priestley – To Mrs. W[illiam] H[enry] Rawson, I shall probably never name it – It will be forgotten or if thought of at all, Mrs. R– [Rawson] with all her family may be well enough pleased to save her 5 /. [shillings] so easily –

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #frances pickford #mariana lawton #shibden hall 1823

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softbiker · 5 years

Text

Born to Run - Chapter 9

Warnings: a couple of bad words I think

Word count: 1.7k (sorry for the short chapter!)

A/N: Apologies for getting this out a day late you guys. This week was something else. Anyways, here’s a couple thousand words of mutual pining! Enjoy responsibly. The slow burn continues, and I would apologize for continuing to string you guys along, except I am literally not sorry.

She chewed on the cap of her pen, staring at the purchase orders in front of her. Her eyes slid over the same lines again and again, not reading a single word. Numbers and letters blurred together across the page. She didn’t even realize she wasn’t reading them.

It had been like this all morning - her brain couldn’t stay here, in the fluorescent sterility of her clinic, behind a desk, in an exam room. Her patients’ voices floated through her ears, just white noise humming in the back of her mind. She kept pinching her leg, trying to bring herself to the present, but nothing she did worked. She couldn’t focus on anything, anything that wasn’t-

-Bucky’s waist between her arms, squeezing him tight as she saw the goosebumps raise on his arms in the night air. His jacket still sat on her shoulders, keeping her warm on the back of the bike as they sped home, only two of them, painting country roads in light and sound-

The pen dropped to the desk, startling her. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, though thankfully no one was around to see her driven to distraction at the mere thought of-

No. Nope. Not right now.

This is so unprofessional, she scolded herself.

Charlotte poked her head into the office with a knock, announcing another patient this afternoon, and Y/N sighed and pushed back from her desk. Tried to get her head in the game. In the exam room, her patient (a routine checkup) babbled about the corn harvest and the price of tractor tires and something else she’s not listening to - snapping her gloves into the trashcan and-

-the door opened softly, him tugging her along with their hands still laced together, the clubhouse dark and quiet, and they’re hushing their giggles like teenagers who have things like curfews and bedtimes. She feels a little dizzy watching him smile over his shoulder at her, and there is something in it, in the way his eyes are so wide and bright in the dark, and when she bumps into him by accident - motorcycle legs unsteady - he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her through the halls-

“- a whole month?”

The patient has her eyebrows lifted, expectant.

“...I’m so sorry, what did you just say?”

“I was just saying that it was hard to believe we’ve gone nearly a month without rain,” the woman said, mouth curling into a sly smile.

“Oh. Oh, yes you’re right.” Y/N shook her head. “At least the harvest is nearly done anyway.”

“Mm. So what’s his name?”

“Who?”

“You know who - the man you’ve been thinking about this entire appointment instead of listening to me talk about corn.”

Y/N floundered, tripping over herself in an attempt to deflect the question.

“No one, it’s nobody,” she shook her head vehemently. “I’m just a little tired today, so I’m spacing out a little. I’m very sorry about that, so unprofessional of me.”

“Mhm.”

**********

“Hey! Earth to Barnes!”

“Huh?”

“I’ve asked you three times where you put the toolbox.” Sam had his arms crossed, smirking. “Too busy thinking ‘bout your girl?”

“She is not my girl, Wilson.”

“You sure about that?”

-she shushed him for laughing out loud when she tripped over the common room couch, but she couldn’t stop smiling either, and he couldn’t believe how much she glowed even in the dark. Couldn’t pull his hand away from where their fingers had been laced tightly since they were sitting together on the grass-

“Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure.”

“Whatever you say man, I’m just looking for a toolbox.”

Bucky pointed behind the bar, where he knew that Clint would have left the tools after working on a leaky sink.

“Probably back there. Barton was using them.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Bucky didn’t reply, just rolled his eyes and went back to cleaning his gun. He always carried, part of the job, but now that he was practically serving as Y/N’s bodyguard, he checked and re-checked his weapons on a daily basis. He was carrying 2 extra knives in his boots now, besides the one in his belt, and he sharpened them every other day. It soothed him a little, the routine preparation, knowing he was in control. That would keep her safe.

And then, afterwards, he could tell her everything. Get it all off his chest. If she was still listening after that, then maybe they could start with dinner. Or a movie. Something normal, low pressure - he was terrified of scaring her away.

Staring at the can of grease on the coffee table in front of him, his mind couldn’t help slipping back to-

-standing in the hallway outside her door, him leaning against the wall and smiling at her, still holding her hand. Her eyes were bright as she smiled back at him, their faces only inches apart, noses almost touching. He wanted to kiss that smile, and he thought, with that look in her eyes, that she might let him-

The grease can clatters off the coffee table, knocked over by a twitch in his hand. He cursed and tried to snatch it up before too much of the oily stuff leaks out onto the rug underneath the coffee table, but he could already see the inky stain soaking into the fibers. Nat was going to have his head.

**********

There were stacks of files on her desk to go through, all of them old patients; she volunteered to help out with the clerical side of it all, sorting out the patient files, transferring or shredding whatever was no longer needed. It was tedious, but so was sitting alone and refreshing her inbox.

Y/N shuffled another file over to the ‘Keep’ stack, having made her own notes on the patient’s chart just this morning. She glanced at the pile that hadn’t been done yet - it mounded on her desk, threatening to spill over into chaos on the floor. She should have been grateful for the distraction - for anything that would keep her from thinking about Bucky as she had done all morning. But as the afternoon wore on so did her boredom, tugging at the fuzzy edges of her mind and making her stare at the clock as the minutes ticked on, slowly bringing the end of her day.

She was rescued by a knock on her office door, Stacey poking her head in.

“You’ve got a walk-in. I think he’s been here before.”

“Alright, thanks.”

Y/N tugged on her lab coat and hung her stethoscope around her neck as she stood from her desk. The digital clock in the corner of her computer screen blinked 3:58 p.m. Only another hour or so until Bucky would pick her up…

She snapped her fingers and wrenched herself back to the present, however unwillingly. There was a patient waiting. A little flag outside the door told her he was in exam room 2. She took the little chart from its place by the door, flipping it back to take a quick look before she went in.

He looked up at her when the door opened, giving her that same sleazy smile she remembered.

“Hey, doc,” Rumlow waved with his fingers. “Long time, no see, huh?”

**********

They were supposed to be working on Steve’s bike, getting some overdue maintenance done on her before their big meeting this week. Stark and a couple of his guys were coming down, starting the prep for their final move on this mission.

As if reading his mind, Sam spoke up.

“You ever think about what you’re gonna do when this is over?”

“I think you asked me that the first time we met,” Bucky grunts, hefting the toolbox from its place in the garage. “Back in the Army.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Got me in a lot of shit since then.”

“Didn’t answer the question.”

Steve’s bike sat propped up in the middle of the garage, and Bucky dropped the toolbox next to it, grabbing the oilcloth slung over the seat. He didn’t look back at Sam.

“Course I think about it,” he shrugged. “But I still don’t know.”

“Hm. I figured you would need to go see about a girl.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but dropped to his knees, flipping the box open. His voice was softer when he spoke.

“She’s not really looking to build a life here, you know.”

“So? Neither are you. Just part of the job.” Sam shook his head. “I swear you are the biggest fucking idiot if you-”

Bucky threw the dirty oil rag at him over his shoulder. Sam squawked as the rag hit him in the face, and dove for Bucky, the two of them grappling on the drop cloth spread over the garage floor. Though both men were strong and fit, Bucky had the advantage of sheer muscle mass, and managed to pin Sam on his stomach with a hand twisted behind him.

“Say ‘uncle’.”

“Alright, alright asshole - uncle, okay? Uncle!”

Bucky shifted his weight and eased up onto his knees, letting Sam roll over. He laid there, flat on his back, for a moment and gave Bucky the finger.

“You started it.”

“Hey idiots!” It was Natasha, standing in the doorway, rolling her eyes. “Get in here. You’ve gotta see this.”

Sharing a look, they scrambled to their feet and followed her out of the garage, down the hall to the common area. Most of their fellow Avengers were already there; Steve, Clint, and Wanda were clustered together on the couch, with Nat behind them, leaning over the back. Thor, recently returned from a cross-country ride with his brother, sat in the armchair, rubbing his chin.

“What is it?” Sam asked, making his way around the couch. “What’s going on?”

Steve looked up, his brows dark and drawn together. His eyes slid past Sam and straight to Bucky, and the look softened a little with...was that pity? Bucky’s stomach dropped.

“What is it, Steve?”

Steve swallowed harshly, licking his lips. Glancing down, Bucky noticed he was holding a piece of paper in his hands, small and square like a notepad.

“Buck…”

“Fuck, Steve, what?”

Blowing a breath out his lips, Steve held out the note to him.

“This was left on the front door - not sure when, we just found it 10 minutes ago.”

The paper was from a notepad - a prescription pad, one from the clinic, with Y/N’s name printed across the top in a small, neat font. No prescription was written on it, though. A skull and crossbones was drawn in crisp, black marker, bleeding through the thin sheet. At the bottom, a short note:

SEE YOU SOON, DOC.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #avengers #avengers fic #marvel #marvel fic #biker!bucky #biker!bucky au

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Text

Second Chances - Ch. 30

The Many Miles We’ve Walked

Warnings: mentions of severe depression, swearing, blood, angst

Word count: ~8200

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You gallop down the path away from Beaver Hollow, Arthur’s words still burning in your ears. The slash across your face stings as the tears come, sliding across the sensitive skin. You don’t stop; you can’t. All you know is that you’re on your own once again. The sky darkens with heavy clouds, matching your mood.

After what seems like a lifetime, you finally stop Rannoch. You’re not sure where you are, but you recognize the landscape marking the Grizzlies East. Rannoch’s withers are sweating and he fumbles with the foamy bit in his mouth. You pat his neck and slide off his back, the full force of what just happened threatening to overwhelm you.

You stand in the middle of the path and then stumble to the side, collapsing as the full weight of it all overtakes you. Pain rushes through your chest, clenching your gut and causing you to vomit for the second time today. Arthur’s words echo in your head again, bringing fresh tears. You sob and lay down in the dirt.

A slur of emotions rushes through you: pain, betrayal, anger, fear and confusion. You’ve no idea how this happened. All you know is that the life you imagined with Arthur has been stripped from your hands and stomped into the mud.

How can things have gone so wrong, you ask silently. While things have been bad in the gang for weeks, they haven’t been between you and Arthur. Now suddenly he’s no longer part of your life. The voice in your head, the one that speaks in your dead husband’s voice, hisses in your ear.

“I told you,” it says. “No one could live with you and not end up hating you. He’s finally come to that realization.”

You roll onto your side, trying to ignore the voice. You look down and see your revolver in its holster. For a second, you think about pulling it out and just ending it all. It would be easier, you’d no longer have to worry about what you’re going to do next, the gang or Arthur. You could finally have peace. You’re tempted to do it until you realize that by doing so, you’d be letting James win. He might be dead, but you’re still fighting him. You won’t give up so easily.

An hour passes and you finally gather the strength to sit up. A part of you wonders if Arthur will come looking for you. You hope he doesn’t. He made it clear he had no interest in staying with you. You wonder where you should go next. You can’t go any further east and you refuse to go south and back into the swamps. You’ll go west, but not yet. The sky flashes, heralding a close storm.

With a heavy sigh, you get up and climb back onto Rannoch. The sky seems to open and the storm begins. It starts off as a drizzle, but the darkness of the sky suggests it’s likely to get worse. You decide to go north for now and try to find somewhere to stay for the night. By the time you get to the tracks, it’s grown into a freezing deluge. Your hands shake and your teeth chatter.

You follow the tracks east for a while, trying to think of where to go where you can keep warm. The sky flashes again and you see on your left the lab of Dover Hill. You’re close to Charlotte’s. You wonder if she’d be kind enough to let you stay with her for one night.

Rannoch travels along the path alongside the tracks until you hit the wide river. Ignoring the fact that you’ve only been up here with Arthur, you guide him up to the cabin and stop when it comes into view. What are you going to say to her?

You slide off Rannoch and walk up her porch, hesitating at her door. After what feels like hours, you finally knock. It opens.

“Y/N, how good to see you.” She begins to smile until she sees the slash across your face and your red, puffy eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah. I… Arthur and I, we… I…”

“Come on in out of the rain, don’t want you freezing. I’ll make you some hot tea.”

She grabs your shoulder and gently guides you inside. You try to thank her but a painful ball has taken residence in your throat. She tells you to sit at the table as she walks around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and putting them into a kettle on the stove. After setting the kettle to boil, she sits down opposite you.

“I was hoping I’d see you and Arthur again. Of course, I never thought I’d see one without the other. Did something happen?”

You nod stiffly as a fresh tear slides down your cheek, burning the cut again. “Arthur and I, we um, we ain’t together no more. Things got… real bad between us. He…” You think about what he said, your chest burning. “He said it was a mistake to want to marry me.”

Charlotte puts a warm hand on your icy one, rubbing her thumb across your skin. “Do you mind me asking what happened?”

You don’t look at her as you wonder where to begin. Despite knowing Arthur would be furious if he found out, you decide to tell Charlotte everything.

You finish telling Charlotte your story, which takes a relatively short amount of time despite everything that’s happened. She proved to be a wonderful listener.

You sit at her table with your empty cup, the near empty kettle sitting at the end of the table. She sighs when you fall silent.

“So you think Arthur won’t come looking for you?” she asks.

“No,” you say, then take it back. “I don’t know. At this point, I don’t know if I want him to either. He knows Dutch is crazy, but for some reason he just won’t leave.”

“It must be terrifying for him. He’s known nothing but this lifestyle for over twenty years and it’s fallen apart so suddenly. How could he not be?”

You wipe your wet cheeks. “I know he is, but he was the one who said he wanted to leave. I just don’t understand why he changed his mind. Or when he figured out I’m no companion. It’s just a shame Mary wrote him saying it was officially over between them.”

Charlotte squeezes your hand almost too hard. “Don’t put yourself down like that, Y/N. When I saw you two together, I could tell he loves you. Like I said, he’s just scared, and when people are scared and angry, they say crazy things.”

You sniff. “Yeah, well they say people tell you the truth when they’re drunk or angry. I… I wish… I don’t know what I wish.”

“Do you regret him asking you to marry him, or saying yes when he did?”

“Yes… no… I don’t know. I love him but it’s not a mutual feeling. I think he’ll be happier now.”

“No, he won’t be,” Charlotte says, standing up. She grabs the kettle and places it in the basin on the counter. “You don’t plan on marrying someone and then when it doesn’t work you just start being happier. Even when bad things have happened, those emotions run deep. Trust me when I say he’s just as miserable, scared and confused as you are.”

“Maybe,” you say with a small hiccup. Charlotte asks if you’d like something to eat, but you say no. Although you’ve eaten little and most of it came right back up, the last thing you want to do is eat.

“Well, you helped me in my most desperate hour. Least I can do is return the favor. You can stay here as long as you like. I managed to catch a turkey, so I have enough food for a day or two.”

You thank her as she takes your empty cup, then she shows you to her spare room. You thank her again and explain you’d like to get some sleep. She nods then notices your clothes which are still damp and causing you to shiver.

“Would you like to borrow some of my clothes? I don’t have much, but they’d be better and warmer than those.”

You nod and she gets you a shirt and skirt. When you’ve changed, she takes your worn clothes to hang by the fireplace. Afterwards, you close the door and lay down in the bed, still shivering from the cold and from shock. The rain continues to pour outside. The sound helps you to doze off, but you never really fall asleep.

A week has passed since you last saw Arthur, most of it stormy and dark. Charlotte is a kind and thoughtful host. She recognizes when you need to be alone and when you need company. She always invites you to go hunting with her, understanding when you say no. She does her best not to mention Arthur, and you’re grateful for it.

This week has proved to be the most difficult of your life. When the rain calmed enough to allow you and Charlotte to go out hunting, you’d occasionally been struck by such a powerful wave of grief that you had to sit down and not move until it passed. Two days after you’d arrived, this had happened and you stayed seated at the foot of a large oak for so long Charlotte came looking for you, afraid a cougar or a wolf had gotten you.

You sit now on the bed, your heart heavy and your mind reeling in circles once more. If Arthur hasn’t come looking for you at this point, he’s not ever going to. You’ve only stayed this long to see if he would bother to track you down, but the few times you have gone out of the cabin, you haven’t seen or heard anything about him or anyone else from the gang.

You’ve decided it’s time to move on, to stop waiting for him to find you. After all, it’s not fair to take advantage of Charlotte’s kindness for much longer. You slide off the ring he gave you, twirling it between your fingers. Before everything fell apart, it helped to center yourself and focus; now it’s nothing more than a reminder of what could have been. You let the tears fall as you open the drawer of the nightstand and place the ring inside with a letter to Charlotte, explaining your gratitude and your hopes for her to have a better life. You also wrote that if someone came looking for you to pretend as though you’d never met. You’ve given a bit of thought about the ambush that resulted in your slashed face, still frightened of who might be behind it and if they’re still trying to kill you.

You close the nightstand drawer and wipe your cheeks, grabbing your satchel to get ready and leave. Charlotte has been out in the main room of the cabin, cleaning her rifle to prepare for another hunt. The sun is finally out for the first time in days and she wants to take advantage of it. It will provide you with the perfect opportunity to slip away.

Just as you’re putting your journal into your satchel, someone knocks on the front door and you hear Charlotte open it. Her voice rumbles through the walls but you can’t hear what she’s saying. You put on your boots and grab your hat. Suddenly, Charlotte knocks on your door. You invite her in.

“I don’t mean to disturb you,” she says gently. “But there’s a caller outside for you.” You try to guess who it might be based on her face but fail to do so. With a heavy sigh, you follow her out to the main room. Instead of opening the front door, you peak out the window that looks out onto the porch. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the familiar frame of Arthur, his back to the window and his hat in his hands. You begin shivering and turn around to look at Charlotte, your eyes wide. She takes your hat off and brushes the hair from your face.

“I don’t think he knew you were here,” she says. “He came to check on me and your horse walked over to greet him. You should have seen his face when he saw Rannoch, it was like he’d seen the moon for the first time after too many dark nights.”

You don’t know what to say or do. While part of you wants to go out and see him, the other part is scared of what he might say. Your fear must show because Charlotte rubs your uninjured cheek.

“Listen, why don’t you go outside, give him thirty seconds. If by that point you still don’t feel good or decide you don’t want to talk to him, you come right back in and I’ll ask him to leave you alone, okay?”

You swallow and nod stiffly, clasping your hands together. Charlotte puts your hat on the table and opens the door slowly as you push your hair to cover the slash across your face. Arthur turns at the sound, his face straight but his eyes soft. He clenches his jaw at the sight of you.

“Hello, Y/N,” he says as you step onto the porch, the door closing behind you.

“Arthur,” you say so quietly you can barely hear yourself.

“I, um, I been lookin’ for you for a few days. Was worried about you.”

You look down at your feet, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why would you be looking for me?”

“You know why, dar- Y/N. I care about ya and I, uh, I said some bad things last time we spoke.”

“You said what you truly thought, Arthur. My dad always said to listen to people when they’re angry, that’s when they’re the most honest.”

“You’re really gonna believe somethin’ your awful daddy said?”

You pause and continue staring at your feet, a tight ball forming in your chest again. “Why’d you come here, Arthur? Did you come to point out all my faults?”

“No, that’s the last thing I wanna do. I tried trackin’ you the day you left but the rain washed everything away. I thought you headed out west. I came here to make sure Charlotte was alright, I had no idea you were here. ”

“I was gonna go west, but I… I just didn’t for some reason.”

Arthur pauses, fiddling with his hat. “I’d love it if you came back, sweetheart. I’ve missed ya and things have gotten real bad. Feels like I’m drownin’ without you next to me.”

“Why would you want me to come back? All I am is a mistake.” You turn away, walking to the end of the porch, your eyes threatening to overflow. Arthur sighs behind you.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I don’t know why I said that, think I was just frustrated and scared. It weren’t true, never was. I love ya and I can’t imagine my life without you. You’d make me very happy if you came back.”

You turn to look at him mostly through your right eye as your hair still covers your left. His face softens and he raises his hand to touch your face, causing you to flinch and take a step back. He quickly lowers his hand, aware of the fact that you thought he might hurt you, a leftover reaction from your past marriage.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he whispers. “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Just want to check your stitches.”

He raises his hand slowly this time and you let him brush the hair behind your ear. He sighs again as he inspects the stitches, his thumb running across your forehead so gently you barely feel it. You unconsciously lean into his touch and he places his hand on your uninjured cheek.

“I been tryin’ to look into who paid those men to hurt you. I ain’t found nothin’ yet but… Dutch hasn’t given me much chance to look.”

“You’re still doing his bidding, Arthur?” you say as a tear slides down your cheek.

“I… I was. But something bad happened.” He pauses and lowers his head. “Eagle Flies is dead.”

He lowers his hand and fiddles with his hat. You silently repeat what he said. “What? How?”

He explains how he and Charles got Eagle Flies out of prison and then two days ago, Eagle Flies came into camp with several others claiming the army tried to kill them for the oil on their land. Arthur goes into how almost the entire gang went to help Eagle Flies and then he and Dutch went into the foreman’s office and stole some bonds.

“When we was leavin’, one of the pipe’s burst and knocked me down as some men came in. One of ‘em pinned me down and was about to stab me. Dutch saw and walked away. If it weren’t for Eagle Flies, I’d be dead now, but that bastard Favours shot him before I could do anything.”

“Dutch just left you? Why?” Even though Dutch has completely changed since you met him, you never thought he’d abandon Arthur like that, especially under those circumstances.

“Because you were right, darlin’,” Arthur says heavily. “Things ain’t gettin’ better and he ain’t helpin’. Ever since you left, I been a bit more loose-lipped about what I think of his ideas. He obviously don’t like it, been screamin’ more and more about everyone needin’ faith in his plan. Not only that, he’s been quick to point out how I should be better without ya. But thing is, I can’t stop thinkin’ that I’d already be dead or on the way out if it weren’t for you.”

You look down again. “I’m not a hero, Arthur. I’ve never done anything to help anyone. I-I’m too selfish for that.”

His fingers brush your chin, gently guiding your face back up to look at him. “You might not be a hero, but you saved my life in more ways than you know. I’d rather die right here and now than live another day without you. I don’t need no one else when you’re by my side.”

He’s within inches of you now, his hand gently cradling your face. “I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he whispers. “I wish I could take it back, but that ain’t possible. If you give me a chance, I’ll do my best to prove to you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

His words wash over you, causing the ball in your chest to finally burst. You can’t stop your throat from clenching and tears cascading down your face. Arthur takes a half step closer, pulling you gently into his chest. You accept it, burying your head into his shirt as you try unsuccessfully to stop the sobs. You don’t know how long it continues, but Arthur doesn’t relent his tight grip on you, not even when you dig your fingernails into his back.

As you begin to calm down, his scent floods your nostrils, bringing its own form of comfort. The sobs fade finally and Arthur begins combing your hair with his fingers.

“You’re alright, girl,” he says gently, his voice deep, making you squeeze him tighter. His lips brush your forehead and you close your tired eyes.

The door leading inside the cabin opens up and Charlotte comes out. “I, uh, I hope I’m not coming at a bad time, but I made lunch. Y/N here helped me catch a few fish yesterday and I cooked some up. I’d love it you joined me.”

Arthur pulls away slightly to look at her, but you stay nuzzled against his chest. Arthur thanks her and then looks down at you. “How about it? Charlotte said you ain’t eaten much while you been here. Sounds like you didn’t do a whole lot to be honest.”

You sigh and finally pull away. “Can you blame me, Arthur?”

“No. To be honest, I been the same way.” He cups your cheek again and you press your hand against it. That’s when he notices your ring is gone. He clenches his jaw but says nothing about it.

He guides you inside where Charlotte is setting down plates of seasoned fish and some herbs and roots you picked the day before. Arthur pulls a chair out for you and then takes a seat himself. Charlotte smiles at you from across the table.

“Arthur, it was a real blessing you came up here today. I was really hoping I could see you again to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Ah, I didn’t really do much. You could have figured it out yourself. Like you said, we have more to find within ourselves than we think.”

You see his hand lift as though he wants to put it on your knee, but then he lowers it.

“Yes, I suppose so.” After a moment, she puts her fork and knife down and looks hard at Arthur.

“I need you to tell me something, Arthur. Not just to ease my own curiosity but for Y/N’s sake as well. We know how loyal you are to Dutch, but it’s clear life with him and Y/N cannot continue the way it has. Tell me, what are you going to choose?”

Arthur sighs and swallows his bite. He lowers his head a bit. “All them goddamn years I been loyal to Dutch don’t mean nothin’ anymore. He saw I was about to die and he walked away. He used the Indians for his own damn benefit and they paid the price. He… he said some pretty awful things about Y/N after she left, and I had to use all my self-control to not hurt him.”

He finally looks at you. “I know why you wanted to leave last week, and it wasn’t because you didn’t care. I wish I had agreed with you then. But unfortunately I have to go back one last time. John mentioned Abigail knows where Dutch is keeping the chest and she might have the key. Darlin’, in order for us to start a life, we need money. John also says he wants to leave, but Dutch has gotten real suspicious of everyone. If I leave now, Dutch will hunt me down, and potentially you. I’m gonna leave as soon as I can, but it must be the right moment.”

He pauses. “I… I guess I’m just hopin’ you’ll come with me, sweetheart. It would help me stay focused.”

You swallow and look away. “You promise, Arthur? No more hopping between leaving and not leaving?”

“No more, darlin’. I’ve made up my mind. Even if you… decide you don’t want to come back, I’m still leaving.”

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you say quietly. “I just need some time to think about it.”

He nods and looks away, clearly disappointed.

Charlotte stands up and grabs the plates. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here until you decide, Y/N. Arthur, you can stay too if you like. The spare bed isn’t very large but it’s better than the floor I suppose.”

Arthur thanks her and you lean back in your chair, closing your eyes. Charlotte calls your attention.

“Why don’t you get some rest? You look worse than I did the day you both found me.”

You nod and get up. Part of you wishes Arthur will accompany you, but the other part wants him to stay away, still hurt by the past week. He looks at you as though waiting for you to ask him to come. However, you know that you won’t get any sleep without him because you’ll be too busy thinking about what might happen.

“Arthur?” you say quietly. “Um, will you…”

He stands up before you finish and walks over to you. “You tell me what you want me to do, darlin’.”

You nod and go into the room; Arthur shuts the door behind him. You sit down and take off your boots and he does the same.

“You want me on the bed or on the chair in the corner?” he asks.

“The bed is okay,” you say and lay down. He takes the blanket to cover you up and you grab his hand. “Be with me?”

He pauses and runs a finger across your cheek then nods. He lies down next to you and you slide into the crook of his arm, pressing your head into his neck. His heartbeat quickens and you hear him swallow almost painfully as he drapes his arm over you.

You lie awake for a few moments, although your eyes burn with exhaustion. You wait for him to say something but he doesn’t, his thumb just draws circles into your back. Your eyes finally droop and you thankfully fall asleep.

You wake in the early afternoon to an empty bed. Looking around, you find Arthur’s not even in the room anymore. After putting your boots back on, you reach into the nightstand and pull out your ring and letter. You slide the ring into your satchel and throw the letter into the fireplace. Although you’ve decided by this point to go with Arthur, you’re not sure about your future together just yet.

You head into the main room. It’s empty but after looking out the window, you see Charlotte standing near the shed with her back to the window. Arthur’s nowhere in sight. You head out to her and see she’s taking down the tanned deer hide she set out to dry days ago after you helped her kill it. She turns when she hears you approaching.

“You look much better,” she says. You try to smile but find it difficult.

“Arthur,” you say quietly. “Did he…” You can’t finish, afraid to hear the answer. You’re wondering if he thought you wouldn’t come back and he’s already left.

“He’s just chopping some wood for me behind the house. I’m sure he’d love to talk to you.”

You nod, feeling somewhat relieved. “I know. I’ll go talk to him.”

She puts her hand on your shoulder. “So what have you decided? He and I spoke for a while after you fell asleep. He’s, well, he’s heartbroken, Y/N. I think what happened to Dutch and not knowing what you’re planning has really turned his head.”

You sigh heavily. “I’m going back with him. Despite everything we’ve just gone through, I still love him. But I don’t know what’s going to happen between us. I honestly wonder if staying with him is the best decision.”

She drops the hide and takes your hands in hers. “I told him how you talked about James, your ex husband. He told me what he felt about that, how he tried so hard to be different and then how he hurt you. I could tell he hadn’t meant any of the things he said. You want to know what I think?”

You nod, squeezing her hands.

“I think if you walk away from him, you’ll be making the biggest mistake of your life.”

The ball in your throat returns, threatening to choke you. “I… I know. I’m afraid though. We have to go back to Dutch and I don’t know what’s going to happen. What if we don’t make it? Or worse, what if I make it but Arthur doesn’t?”

“He will, Y/N. He’s got you after all. I think as long as you’re there for each other, you’ll both be fine.” She smiles. “Now go on, go see him.”

You let her hands go and walk behind the house. He’s standing near a large stump, chopping at some logs, his brow sweating heavily. You clutch your hands in front of you and start walking slowly towards him. He doesn’t see you as you walk over to him, so you call his name softly. He looks up, his lowered brow raising.

“Hey, sweetheart. You feelin’ better?”

You nod and he puts down the axe, rubs his hands off on his shirt and faces you. It’s clear he won’t make a move since he doesn’t know what your boundaries are, so you close the distance between you, sliding your arms around his waist. His breath hitches and he hesitates as you lay your head on his chest. Then his arms loop around you.

“I love ya, you know that?” he says softly.

You pull away and look at him. His eyes flicker to your lips as though he’d like to kiss you but is afraid you’ll pull away. He hides his eyes beneath his hat. Reaching up, you pull his hat off so he has to look at you.

“And I love you, Arthur Morgan.” You look directly into his blue eyes.

He smiles. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but you ain’t one of ‘em, darlin’. Never were. I was a damn fool for sayin’ those things. I just want ya to know-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. He sucks in his breath quickly, then you feel him smile. His arms tighten around you. Without warning, he lifts you up, making you laugh against his lips. You pull away, but he doesn’t put you down.

“I’m gonna spend the rest of my life provin’ how amazin’ you are.” He sets you down gently but doesn’t let you go.

“You don’t have to, Arthur.” You kiss him again. He sighs into it and you pull away. “Well, let’s go and say good-bye to Charlotte. Then we can go.”

He nods and takes your hand in his as you both walk to the front. There, you both thank her for everything. She, of course, says it’s unnecessary since she believes she wouldn’t be alive without either of you. You offer her a pocketwatch you’ve had for ages as compensation, but she turns you down.

“I have plenty of money in the city,” she explains. “If anything, I should be paying you for your assistance.”

“Ma’am, you’ve done more than enough,” Arthur says with a smile.

She smiles. “Well, if you insist on some sort of payment, then I have one to request.”

“Anything,” you say.

“I want to be there when you both get married, if it’s possible.”

Arthur beams at her. “Charlotte, we’d be offended if you weren’t there.” She laughs and thanks you both again.

Arthur, squeezing your hand, heads off to the horses. You wave good-bye to Charlotte and start heading out, but Arthur stops you.

“Hey, I was, uh, thinkin’ about making a stop first,” he says, shifting in his saddle.

“Where to?”

“Wanted to go see Hamish. Be nice to go on a huntin’ trip with him before we face this mess. Might give you and I a chance to reconnect as well.”

You smile and nod your head. You both head south and west into the Grizzlies East. O’Creagh’s Run comes into view, its water sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. You and Arthur hitch the horses outside by Buell, who grumbles a greeting to you.

Arthur heads up the stairs and knocks on the door. A moment later, it opens and Hamish looks out.

“I was wondering when I’d see you two again!” he says happily. He stands back and lets you in. Arthur gestures for you to go in first and you do.

“You said we could go for a hunt?” Arthur says from behind you.

“I did,” Hamish says, pouring a cup of coffee. “There’s this big she-wolf been stalking me last few nights I been out, but she can wait.” He offers you the cup and pours two more, handing one to Arthur. “Let’s talk a while.” He gestures to the table where unfortunately only two chairs sit. Hamish takes one, clearly needing to rest his wooden leg. Arthur pulls out the chair and offers it to you. Once you sit down, he stands just behind you, his hand on your shoulder.

“So what do you two do?” Hamish asks, taking a drink. You reach up and squeeze Arthur’s hand as a way to let him know he can go first.

“Well, I’m just a wanderer. I was born further north but spent a lot of time out west. Funny, I never saw myself as a wanderin’ man when I was a kid.”

For the next little while, Arthur talks about how he was raised, his horrible father and then how his mother died. When he gets to how he met Hosea and Dutch, he hesitates, clearly debating on how much to tell Hamish. You squeeze his hand again. Arthur goes on with the truth, not even skipping the parts where he shot or robbed people. He finishes his story when Dutch left him to die in the oilfields.

Hamish sighs at the end. “Tough life you’ve led, son. Now this Dutch feller, sounds to me like his true colors have finally shown now that this Hosea is gone.”

“I don’t know,” Arthur says. “Maybe he was never who I thought he was. All I know is his spouting of loyalty was never meant to be reciprocated. He holds none for us.”

Hamish pauses to refill your cups. He then looks to you. “And what about you, Y/N? What’s your story? How’d a girl like yourself fall in with Arthur’s rough bunch?”

You smile a little. “It wasn’t hard, to be honest. I guess… if it was so easy to fall in with a group with such rough lifestyles, there must be something bad in me too.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hamish says. “I don’t think anyone’s inherently good or bad. People are more complicated than that. Besides, that cut on your face says you’ve lived just as rough a life as Arthur here.”

Arthur rubs your shoulder gently. You pause. Something about Hamish’s calm and patient energy comforts you and it feels like you could tell him anything. You decide to tell him your story as well, starting off when you were a kid living in Blackwater with your abusive father and passive mother. You end it with the cougar attack and how Arthur took you back to camp to be stitched up. You look down at your arm where the scar is on your arm from that encounter.

Hamish leans back in his seat. “Real shame how your parents never valued you. I was never lucky enough to find a woman I liked enough to marry or have a family with. I think I would have liked to, but when I lost my leg in that damn war, most women were too put off by it.”

“So what about you?” Arthur asks as you stand up. You gesture for him to sit and he does, carefully pulling you down to sit on his lap. “What’s your story?”

Hamish describes how he was raised by his grandfather as his parents had died when he was a young boy. His grandfather was a trapper and taught Hamish everything he knew about hunting, fishing and living off the land. Then the war started when he was in his late twenties and he was sent off to fight. When he came back with only one leg, he found his grandfather had died. He left Hamish his cabin, which happens to be the same one he’s in now.

“Must have been awful,” you say. “The war. I heard it was the bloodiest in history.”

Hamish nods solemnly. “Yes. Out of the ones we’ve had so far anyways. I doubt it’ll be the last. But it certainly was horrible to be a part of. I was in the battle of Antietam. I couldn’t tell you how many men died. The bodies lay so thick you coulda walked across the whole field without your boots touching mud.”

Arthur sighs heavily. “Those were bad times.”

Hamish nods again, his eyes far away. “Yes they were.” He looks out the window where the sun is setting beyond the mountains. Then his eyes dart to your empty mugs. “Would you like more coffee?”

You and Arthur nod, so Hamish gets heavily to his feet and goes to the sink to prepare another pot. He suddenly calls out, his eyes staring out the window. You get up to look.

“What have we here?” Hamish continues, grabbing a pair of binoculars from a shelf. “She’s here.”

“That close?” Arthur says, standing up as well.

“Oh yeah. She’s acting brazen. Come on, let’s go get her.”

The three of you head outside and quickly get on your horses. Hamish leads you as you run down the path in the direction she’d run off.

“She’s goin’ down there,” Hamish yells back.

“Wolves shouldn’t come so close to people,” you call back.

“When the country was wild, they could go where they liked. Now they’re stuck hiding in the few corners of the wilderness we got left.”

“A feelin’ in which I can sympathize with,” Arthur says.

“This ain’t a country for wild animals, nor wild people either,” Hamish replies.

A howl echoes from up ahead in the forest. Hamish perks up and kicks Buell into a faster pace. As you’re rounding a large outcrop of rocks, you see a large animal near the top. It lifts its head and lets out another howl. She truly is a big wolf.

Hamish guides Buell into the trees towards the outcrop where she was, but by the time you get there, she’s long gone. All that’s left is the freshly killed carcass of a deer. Arthur inspects it, announcing the blood hasn’t set yet.

“Now where she’d get to?” Hamish asks quietly, looking around. He beckons to the mountain lying to the west. “My guess is she’s somewhere over there.”

“There’s a whole lot of over there,” Arthur says.

On the slope of the mountain, the wolf comes out of the trees. Hamish spots her.

“There she is. Got all shy all of a sudden. Come on.”

He and Arthur mount up again and the wolf darts off into a thick cluster of pines. The three of you head over to where she disappeared, looking for her tracks which are easy enough to find.

“You two got a few extra miles in ya?”

“If we gotta chase her, let’s chase her,” you say, checking your carbine repeater.

“We better go on foot from here,” Hamish says. “It’ll be too hard to track her through these trees from up there.”

You and Arthur dismount, sending Artemis and Rannoch off; Buell goes with them. Hamish inspects the tracks for a second, then he looks to you and Arthur. “One of you wanna take the lead or shall I?”

You hunker down and look at the large tracks. “She’s your wolf, Hamish. Go ahead and do the honors.”

“Alright, you two keep watch on the forest while I got my eyes in the dirt.” He shifts the rifle in his hands and heads into the thick trees, you and Arthur following.

The track winds through the thick vegetation. As the forest begins to darken with the falling night, it becomes unusually quiet. Of course, you’re sure this is just a result of such a large predator having been through so recently. However, despite how vocal the wolf had been before, she isn’t howling anymore. An unsettling feeling enters your stomach. You remind yourself that you’ve never hunted a wolf. You’ve killed them, but your previous encounters had all been chance. You don’t know the intelligence of these hunters, either. They must be smart, most predators are. They have to be in order to outwit their prey. However, you don’t know if they’re smart enough to outsmart people.

Hamish follows the track along the mountainside. It sometimes becomes hard for you to see due to the thick bushes and grass, but he seems to have no trouble. The track winds down towards a cliff’s edge high up on the mountain. The cliff’s edge is clear of bushes and trees and the track goes right through it. Something feels wrong about it, but before you have the chance to say something, Hamish enters the clearing and a deep growl comes from across it.

Four wolves come bounding across the clearing, snarling and drooling. They’re being led by the massive she-wolf.

“She led us into a trap!” Hamish hollers as he lifts his rifle and shoots. You and Arthur do the same. You shoot and hit one of the wolves in the shoulder. He yelps but doesn’t stop. One of the wolves break off to deal with Hamish, another to you and the other two leap towards Arthur. They must find him the most intimidating. You shoot your wolf in the chest and it goes down, whimpering.

Just as you’re turning to help Hamish or Arthur, one of the two wolves near Arthur leaps up, pushing Arthur off his feet. His rifle flies out of his hand, so you quickly aim and shoot the wolf in the head and it topples on top of Arthur. The other wolf leaps forward and sinks its teeth in his upper arm, making him cry out. You run forward and kick the wolf in the gut, making it let go. It hesitates, giving you the chance to lift your rifle and shoot it in the neck. Another shot rings out and Hamish’s wolf goes down.

You bend down and offer Arthur your arm, pulling him up. As he stands, you get close to him, worried his arm might be torn. Just as you’re reaching up to inspect his arm, another bark echoes through the air.

A massive wolf, larger than the dead-she wolf, comes bounding across the clearing. He passes Hamish by, his yellow eyes glued to Arthur. He leaps in the air, snarling, and you lift your rifle. Not quickly enough though and the wolf lands on Arthur again. The air is wrenched by a great yelp as Arthur falls back again and you’re terrified his throat’s about to be ripped open. You scream his name loudly, your heart stopping. When Arthur lands, the wolf lies still. Arthur throws it off him and stands up, his hand covered in blood.

“How-” you begin when Arthur bends down and pulls his knife out of the wolf’s neck.

“Damn bastards!” he says, wiping the blade clean.

“They were smart alright,” Hamish says, looking at the wolf bodies.

“Your arm,” you say, grabbing Arthur’s sleeve and pulling it up. You’re relieved to see there’s only a little blood on the fabric, but you can’t slide it up enough to see the wound. He grabs your hand.

“We’ll deal with it in a minute, okay? I’ll be okay.” He looks around. “Is that all of ‘em?”

“Think that’s the best of them,” Hamish says, poking the giant wolf with his boot. “Big son of a bitch. Look at him, proud thing.”

“Scary thing,” you say.

Arthur huffs next to you. “They brought us here to be slaughtered.”

“Well, you were after a hunt.” Hamish kneels down and begins cutting through the fur in order to skin the wolf.

“Yeah, and I guess we got hunted. Well, you wanna go back to the cabin?”

“Nah, it’s still early. Gonna dress this animal. Won’t likely see another like him probably ever.”

“Yeah, I hope I won’t neither. Thanks for takin’ us out.”

“Any time,” Hamish grunts. “You two ever wanna go huntin’ or fishin’ again, don’t hesitate to come calling. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

You both thank him and call your horses as Hamish starts pulling the skin away from the carcass. Rannoch comes up but snorts nervously at the scent of the wolves. You pat his neck reassuringly and hop into the saddle, following Arthur down the mountain again. He looks as though he’s ready to head back to camp, but he keeps twitching his arm as though it’s bothering him, so you recommend you stop and make camp, to which he agrees.

When the tent’s set up and the fire’s going with some meat cooking on the grill, you reach over and unbutton Arthur’s shirt.

“What are you doin’?” he asks.

“Relax. Just wanna make sure the wound ain’t too deep.” You finish unbuttoning the blue fabric, revealing his red union suit, and pull the sleeve down. You unbutton his union suit to expose his upper arm. You’re relieved to find the wound is hardly more than a few deep scrapes. You take out a cloth and a bottle of whiskey, pressing it to the wound, making him hiss.

“I hope I don’t see another wolf for a long time,” he says.

“I’m sure you won’t. Least you didn’t end up like Marston.”

He chuckles. “Guess that’s true. How about you, by the way?”

“Me what?”

With his free hand, he delicately traces the long cut across your face. “It’s lookin’ pretty good. These stitches should be ready to come out in a day or so.”

You sigh and lower your hands with the cloth and bottle. “Yeah. It doesn’t hurt so much now, but I’ll probably have a scar. Guess it can’t make me any uglier, huh?” You had tried to pull it off as a joke.

Arthur tilts his head, not smiling. “You’re still beautiful, you know that right? Even with this. If anything, it just makes you look tougher.”

You smile and avert your eyes, which land on his bare chest. “Trust me, Arthur. None of that describes me.”

“Well that’s how I describe you.”

He leans forward and kisses you. You’re a bit taken by surprise but you lean into him. Your hands brush up his stomach and across his chest, your fingers weaving through his hair.

He sighs heavily and pulls away just slightly. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”

“Stop it, Arthur. By the way, I have something for you.” You reach into your satchel and pull out his ring. He lets out a soft huff.

“I thought you got rid of that,” he admits, taking the ring from you slowly.

“I couldn’t,” you say. “Even though I believed you weren’t coming for me, I couldn’t let it go. I, uh, actually wore it all week. Today was the first day I haven’t worn it.”

He blinks a few times and then looks at you, not smiling. “You want me to hold onto this?”

Your heart breaks when he asks the question. You fold your hand around his. “No, Arthur.”

Gently, you take the ring from him and slide it over your finger. He smiles and kisses your forehead.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I know I don’t deserve this chance, but I’m glad you’re givin’ it to me.”

“Hey,” you say, cupping his cheek. “We both didn’t do well by each other. It wasn’t fair of me to just expect you to drop everything and leave. This has been your way of life, your family, for over twenty years. I shouldn’t have expected you to be able to let it go so easily.”

“Well, I’m ready to leave it all behind now. I really think I can talk the other girls into leavin’, I know they’re all gettin’ tired of this crap. When you left, they took it pretty hard. Mary-Beth told me if it had gotten to the point you couldn’t be there, then there is no going back.”

“And John?”

“Like I said, we’re going to try, darlin’. One last time, we’ll try. If he decides he’d rather stay with Dutch, then that’s on him. I can’t do no more.”

He sighs again and gently takes yout hand with the ring on it. “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d forgive me this quickly.”

Another pang goes through your chest. “I didn’t think so either. But when that wolf tackled you, I thought that might be it. I thought you’d be taken somewhere I couldn’t follow, and it scared me. What happened last week was bad, but we can fix it. However, I don’t want to live without you.”

He smiles softly, his blue eyes flickering in the firelight. “I know either, sweetheart. I can do anything as long as you’re by my side.”

You smile and kiss him again, your arms looping over his shoulders. His arms wrap tight around you, squeezing you to him. When you finally pull away slightly breathless, you lie your head against his neck and he rubs your back. His heat flows through your own body. You could never forget how comforting the heat of his body was, but your memories are nothing in comparison to him.

You can smell the meat on the grill burning, so you break away from Arthur and eat. When you finish, you yawn heavily, making Arthur chuckle.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get some rest. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

The two of you go into the tent and lie down. Arthur still gives you some space, clearly expecting you to want it. Instead, you roll over and curl against him. “Love you, Arthur,” you mumble sleepily.

He rumbles something but you’re already drifting off, so you don’t hear it. His fingers gently trace the contours of your back, further sending you off.

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