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tetsuroyaoyaoya · 4 years

Text

A Crow Without Wings

tsukishima kei x reader - part four

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It was too early for you to be roaming the halls of the school.

Despite not being due to officially start your manager duties until the practice match, you had decided to see if you could catch the end of the boys’ morning practice just to check in and ask if they needed anything from you, so that you could prepare for it later on. Since Kiyoko was still their main manager and she’d been doing this for years, you doubted that they would, but it gave you the excuse to tease your brother after the argument you had the day prior.

It wasn’t really that early, and you had only gotten to school twenty minutes earlier then you usually did, meaning there were already quite a few other students wandering around, waiting for the day to begin. At first, you didn’t pay them any mind, but then you began to notice the staring, and the whispers, and the looks.

It was as if you were back at Shiratorizawa again, walking the halls just as you had a few months ago, after the accident. You weren’t dreaming, right? This was definitely Karasuno, where nobody knew who you were?

Pinching yourself with quite a bit of force, you winced, confirming that you were, in fact, very much conscious, and very much confused. It could have always been something completely unrelated to you, or you were just paranoid. But no matter what you told yourself, you had an extremely bad feeling about whatever was going on.

Deciding to put the matter aside for now and ignore everyone else, you carried on through the building and out towards the gym, where it seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet to say there was meant to be a morning practice.

Quickening your pace slightly, just in case you had managed to miss them, you bumped into someone at the door of the gym.

“Rei?”

“Yams?” He looked panicked, eyes darting about as if he didn’t know where to look and not-so-subtly trying to steer you away from the building. If it was any other day, you would have just brushed it off as him being anxious like he usually was, but it felt like he was purposely trying to distract you, which concerned you.

“Let her in, Tadashi.” Looking up, your eyes met Tsukishima’s as he walked up to stand just behind the other first year that was blocking your way. Frowning, you noticed an unusually hard look on his face, and he, too, was avoiding looking at you. Letting out a huff of annoyance, you rolled your eyes at them both, thinking that it was just Tsukishima’s new plot to try and get on your nerves.

If it was, it was working.

“What? Is this some kind of joke? It’s really not funny.” Purposely brushing shoulders with Yamaguchi as you passed, you entered the gym to find that none of the team were actually playing, and they were instead huddled together at the bench.

“Rei-chan…” Sugawara looked at you with his signature warm smile, but his eyes were glossed over slightly, and he looked tense.

“Okay, what is happening today?” You were exasperated. The team had literally only just seen you last night, and yet this morning was so different.

“Is it true?” Your gaze shifted slightly to the right of Suga, seeing the normally excitable tangerine sat completely still, staring at you with wide eyes and furrowed brows. You never even thought that Hinata could make such a serious expression.

“Is what true?” The group of boys parted slightly as you approached to let you through and Suga handed you a tablet, presumably the coach’s.

“This was posted over every local news and sport site imaginable this morning.” Your heart dropped to your feet as you saw your name in bold, front and centre, in the article title.

This could not be happening.

People finding out who you were and what happened to you was frankly inevitable, and you knew that, but you didn’t expect ti to be posted across the news for the entire country to see.

“Holy shit,” Daichi never even opened his mouth to chastise you, in complete disbelief over what Suga had just read out to them.

Hurriedly, your eyes skimmed over the beginning of the article as you felt tears well up in your eyes. It only got worse the further you read on. Whoever their ‘exclusive source’ was, they had strung the most detailed web of lies you had ever come across, and if it wasn’t about you, you would have believed it.

‘Kageyama Rei used Ushijima Wakatoshi for his reputation, to pull herself to the top of the social chain at Shiratorizawa in order to gain a place on the volleyball team. She has absolutely no talent. The only reason she was even on the team was because she blackmailed the coach and forced Ushijima to threaten to quit the boys’ team if she didn’t get a place. Kageyama dragged the entire team down and completely ruined their chance to go to nationals, even going as far as causing another player to get injured due to her recklessness on the court.

‘When Ushijima found out what she was really like, they broke up, and since he wasn’t there to threaten the coach and the team for her anymore, she lost her place and was expelled. Nobody has seen her since, and I’m not surprised. It was embarrassing for everyone involved.’

This really did have to be a dream.

“No! None of this is true!” This wasn’t meant to happen. You were meant to have a new start. You were meant to be happy.

“Look, I’ll show you why we didn’t go to nationals.” Opening a new tab on the tablet, your hands trembled as you searched for the video you had ingrained into your brain by this point from having watched it so many times.

“Watch. Keep your eyes on number thirteen.” Turning the tablet around, you made sure that the whole team had a clear view of it as the video began to play. Even Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had moved over to watch, as they’d never seen it before.

They began to get excited as they watched the first few spikes, and you bit your lip as you heard a few of them gasp in awe as they followed the player.

But you knew what was coming.

You closed your eyes.

And flinched.

That scream haunted your nightmares, even now, and you could still hear in ringing in your ears as the video came to an end, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Opening your eyes, you looked over the many expressions of horror before you, each member still staring at the tablet in shock. You handed it back to Suga and felt his hand shake as he took it from you.

“Number thirteen was taken out of the game and Shiratorizawa withdrew from the competition altogether. Seijoh won by default. She wasn’t expelled, or even kicked from the team; she spent two weeks in the hospital, three months unable to walk, and another two in a leg brace on crutches. The doctor told her she could never play again.” A few gasps were heard, and you sighed.

“How do you know so much?” You gave Asahi a sad smile and fumbled with your fingers as you tried to think of a way to finally tell them your secret.

“Rei, you don’t have to do this.” Tsukishima was staring you down from the other side of the group, his glasses positioned further down the bridge of his nose than you had ever seen them before, him having not bothered adjusting them, and you resisted the urge to tease him about it.

“Yes, I do.” Reaching down, you pulled your sock down from over your knee, you revealed the compression sleeve that you were still required to wear. Taking a deep breath, you pushed that down as well, showing them all your injury.

The skin of your knee had healed considerably since the operation, but you still remember very vividly how it was mangled and out of place, and now all that remained were the deep pink indents, scars littered all over. The ones from the stitches were the most prominent; little raised bumps in neat lines down the sides of your knee.

I was the one that was injured.” Some of them had to look away from you, swallowing down the lumps in their throats that had formed, blinking their tears away.

“I’d been friends with Ushijima since we were kids, and we did date last year, but he was the reason we split up, not me. I got onto that team, and the All-Japan team, all by myself. We never threatened the coaches, and I left on my own accord. This entire thing is complete bullshit.” There was silence for a few moments, and you let yourself calm down slightly before pulling your sock back up. None of you really knew where to look or what to do next.

Someone, obviously who you knew, had created an entire fabrication of the past year of your life, and no one at your new school would be able to tell if it was a lie or not.

“Rei? Rei!” You spun around as someone stumbled into the gym, breathing heavily, clearly having run over.

“Pinch?” He looked up at you with a relieved smile, but quickly saw the tears on your face and rushed over.

“Kitten, oh fuck.” You barely had time to register it as he dragged you into a hug, but it definitely didn’t take you long for you to relax into it, enjoying the comfort of his arms. His hand ran over your hair and you turned your face inwards, resting in the crook of his neck.

“Are you okay?” He pulled away and gave you a quick once over, making sure that you were fine.

“What are you doing here?”

“I saw that disgusting article and couldn’t help it.” Shaking your head in amusement, you giggled, even through the tears.

“You could have just called, dummy.” Realisation dawned on his face and it made you laugh even more. You were interrupted by a cough, reminding you that the team was still huddled not far away.

“Oh, um, this is Semi Eita. Eita, this is my new team.” He bowed and the rest of the boys nodded their heads back at him in greeting.

“Sorry for barging in.”

“No, it’s totally fine. We just found out about it ourselves.” Daichi was trying is best at being nice but was obviously trying to profile the poor boy next to you, especially seen as he was wearing his Shiratorizawa uniform. Semi tensed beside you and your eyes landed on Tanaka and Nishinoya creeping closer, clearly trying to intimidate him.

“Boys,” you glared at them in warning and they paused, not taking their eyes off of their target. “Behave!” They backed off but made a point to stare from a distance.

“Where’s Tobio?” Due to all the chaos, you had only just noticed that your brother was the only one missing from the gathering, and you were surprised at yourself for not realising that he wasn’t there.

“He stormed out as soon as we saw the article.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to come up with a way to deal with him.

“Nice.” Semi placed a hand gently between your shoulder blades in an attempt to calm you down a bit.

“Right, I’ll deal with him later. You boys better clean up and get ready for class before Kiyoko sees. Do not be late to the match after school, and I will see you all there, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!” It brought a smile to your face and tension in the air began to disperse. They got to clearing up the equipment and Semi handed you a tissue to wipe your remaining tears as Sugawara approached.

“If you need anything today, no matter what, you can come and find one of us. Even Kiyoko.” He placed a hand on your arm to comfort you and you nodded back at him.

“Thank you.” It was barely a whisper, but he understood, giving you one of his toothy grins before going over to join the other boys.

Today was not going to be your day.

~~~

Handing Semi a drink from the vending machine, you placed yourself next to him on the bench behind the gym. Daichi had assured you that none of the teachers check there on their rounds and you could chat with your friend in peace for a while.

So here you both were, skipping the morning period, avoiding teachers, and drinking juice.

“If he’s seen it, he doesn’t care. I found out from Tendou.” He answered your unspoken question and confirmed your suspicions. You knew the article would have no effect on Ushijima, whether it was true or not. He was basically a household name at this point, and anyone would believe that he did nothing wrong, especially with how the article made him out to be a victim of the situation, despite the situation never existing at all. It also showed he was long over you; he didn’t care about you anymore.

Shuffling closer to Semi, you came to rest your head on his shoulder. You had missed having close friends around like this, and while the two of you hadn’t spoken since you left, it felt as if you had seen him just yesterday.

“Well, the peace was nice while it lasted.” You tried to joke, but he could sense the slight tremble in your voice. You were afraid of what was going to happen next, knowing that some people would never believe you if you told them what really happened.

“It was someone close to me, it had to have been.” Semi’s mouth was set into a firm line, having realised that himself. There were details in that article that not just anyone knew, and it was unsettling to know that the entire thing was possibly planned by someone you called a friend.

“You’ll be okay.” He brought his hand around you and lent his head on yours.

“I hope so.”

~~~

You were exhausted.

Luckily, Aihara and Sasuke had already known about your accident for a while now, so at least they weren’t suddenly against you like everyone else seemed to be. They had stayed by your side for the majority of the day, making sure that you were okay and warding off anyone that might try something on you.

Even so, you couldn’t get the article out of your thoughts. Apart from the excerpt you had read this morning, you hadn’t seen any more of it, so you couldn’t even begin to imagine what people thought of you since you hadn’t read the entire thing. All you knew, according to your two friends, and Semi, was that everything that this mysterious person had said about you was absolutely awful and completely untrue. You were curious, but you knew reading more would only upset you further.

The school day finally ended, and you met up with Kiyoko to start preparing for the practice match. She didn’t question you about anything, which you were grateful for, and you both had a pleasant chat as you gathered paperwork and set up equipment.

Soon enough, the boys also started to arrive at the gym, rushing to get into uniform, and you greeted them as Kiyoko returned from going to speak with the other team’s manager.

“Ouginishi will arrive at 4:30!” She announced, receiving a chorus of responses. Coach Ukai caught your attention and he waved you over to speak to him.

“Kageyama, I want you to sit out of this one.”

“What? Why?” It was meant to be the first match with you as their manager. You wanted to see them play a real match.

“You need to go and clear your head. I can see from the other side of the court that your mind is in the clouds. The boys told me what happened, and they agreed that it can wait one more day for you to start.” Clearly upset, you frowned at him, but you understood. You had been out of it all day, and volleyball was merely another distraction to add to the mix.

“You can’t tell them how to improve if you aren’t fully in the match, so go home, and rest.” Bowing your head, you gave him a weak nod. He didn’t seem too concerned about the article, but he had known who you were from the start, so obviously it wasn’t important to him.

Picking up your bag from where you had dropped it down next to the bench, you turned to leave but was stopped as you bumped into someone for the second time today.

“Giving up already?” That sneer. There was only one person that it could be, and you rolled your eyes, looking up at the blond who was staring you down, a sly smirk sitting happily on his face.

“Shut it, Tsukki.” You huffed, and he dropped the smirk.

“Oi,” Raising an eyebrow at him as he glared at you, you couldn’t help but realise you were really getting sick of his hot and cold attitude that he’d been showing you over the past few weeks. It was a wonder how Yamaguchi stayed friends with him.

“Get over it already.” You couldn’t help but let your jaw drop at his words, not even being able to form a response as he left you dumbfounded.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, so there’s no use moping about, is there? So just get over it.” You hated it, but he had a really good point. It wasn’t like you could change what had already happened, and there wasn’t really a point in trying to change what people thought about you right now, so what was the point in being distracted by it?

“Get over yourself, beanpole.” Chuckling as his face scrunched up in annoyance, you readjusted the bag on your shoulder and walked out of the gym, not even bidding farewell to the other boys.

The fresh air was nice as you walked, but you found it difficult to clear your mind. Taking Tsukishima’s advice was easier said than done. It wasn’t like you could just be fine with the article straight away, especially after getting so worked up over it through the day.

Even if you didn’t care about the stupid thing anymore, that interview had still been given by someone very close to you, and the fact that you had been stabbed in the back like that by one of your friends was going to weigh on your mind for a while, whether you liked it or not.

You just hoped that you would never find out who did it, for your sake and theirs.

~~~

Cursing at no one in particular, you hurried your pace as you rushed for the train. If you made this next one, you could get to Tokyo earlier that you had thought you were able to, and you could hopefully get there before dinner.

The team must have already arrived by now and were probably in the middle of a game. It was a shame that you weren’t able to travel with them, but it lifted your spirits to know that your brother and his orange sidekick were going to be late as well.

You had known they were hopeless, so you weren’t surprised when they failed their exams; you had laughed at them, in fact, earning a slap over the head from Daichi. However, you hadn’t expected for them to actually try and still make it to the training camp, despite the make-up exam being on the first day. It really didn’t help that Tanaka had encouraged them and offered for his sister to pick them up from the school and drive them all the way over from Miyagi.

Your excuse for being late was that you doctor’s appointment had been rescheduled at the last minute, to just after midday, so you couldn’t be there for the start of the camp.

It was so worth it though.

The doctor had cleared you for minor practice, meaning you could play volleyball again. There were restrictions of course, a lot of them, and you knew your brother was going to be less than pleased about it, but you were just so excited to be able to spike a ball once again. That serve last week had left you buzzing, ready to feel the rush of adrenaline you got from seeing the view of the other side of the net being revealed to you finally, after so long.

You were also ready to kick the boys’ asses and knock them down a few pegs, that’s if the teams at the camp weren’t doing that already. Smiling at the thought, you took a seat on the train you had barely managed to catch and prepped yourself for the two-hour journey to the capital that you had ahead of you.

It was so easy to get lost in your thoughts as the train sped through the country, and your place next to the window was greatly appreciated as you looked over the mass of beautiful scenery. For once, there was nothing important on your mind, and you could finally relax and just space out. Even though your heart was pounding against your ribcage in anticipation of playing again, you kept your cool, even as the train pulled into the station, signalling you had arrived in Tokyo at last. You still had another train to catch, but you had already noticed the difference in atmosphere here.

You hadn’t been to Tokyo since you pulled out of the national team, and despite the memory, you were smiling. You felt free again; not worrying about your knee, or what people thought of you.

You had finally let go of it all.

Admitting that Tsukishima had helped you do it was out of the question though. You hadn’t spoken to him since the practice match, but he had begun to glance at you every so often when you crossed paths. He looked as if he was checking up on you, but his expression always remained stoic, so you could never tell what he was thinking. He was difficult to read, but you guessed that was what made him such a good player, even if he didn’t realise that himself.

It was almost dinner when you arrived at Nekoma, just as you had expected. Kiyoko met you at the gates and showed you to the managers’ room, informing you that there were still a couple of matches to be played yet, so you weren’t too late.

You had brought your old practice gear since it was the only thing you had on hand that was suitable for exercise. It was merely a pair of black shorts and the training shirt you wore while on the national team, but having that number and name displayed on your back again felt unreal. It was like you really belonged on the court again. Your heart ached as you looked at the flag on your chest and your sleeve as it reminded you how close you were to success, but you refused to let it ruin your excitement. You still had to wear your compression sleeve, but luckily, your kneepads covered it almost perfectly, so no one would even notice you wearing one.

You were ready.

Kiyoko brought you up to speed quickly on the team’s matches so far, and you were surprised to hear that they had lost every single one. Although, right now they were the small fry in the big pond of nationals-worthy teams, so it wasn’t exactly unexpected. While the team had improved by leaps and bounds since the start of the year, these teams had already been great for years, and Karasuno wasn’t just going to catch up overnight.

“Ah,” Kiyoko sighed.

“I left my clipboard back there. You go ahead without me.” Nodding, you watched her back for a few seconds as she hurried back to the dorms.

As you ended the gym, you noticed that Karasuno was just finishing up a game, but you couldn’t really tell who they were playing against. Though, judging by the scores, they looked like they were actually winning for once. The coach and Takeda were easy to find, and they seemed happy to see you.

“I’m cleared for practice!” Ukai grinned at you and patted you on the back.

“Good. They deserve to be taught a lesson after today.” You watched on as Hinata and your brother set up their freak quick, your eyes barely managing to keep up with the boy as he reached the opposite end of the court, suddenly in the air. The opponent managed to barely just get their fingertips on the ball, but it wasn’t enough. It slammed down on the floor, one of the other players missing it by mere centimetres.

“Hey, Hey, Hey! What do we have here?” Turning your head, you noticed a familiar two-toned head of hair with his eyes trained on the power duo stood not too far away from you.

“Tarō!” His head shot around until he found you, and you giggled as he began to run over.

“Rei-chan!” You barely had time to blink before you were in his arms as he spun you around.

“Bokuto-san, you’ll scare her off.” You were brought back to the floor and you stumbled a bit, a new pair of hands keeping you steady.

“Keiji, nice to see you again.” He made sure you were upright and stable on your feet before letting go of you and giving you a nod in greeting.

“And you, too.” They quickly took notice of your manager’s jacket and shared a look of confusion.

“You don’t go to Shiratorizawa anymore?” Shaking your head, you nodded over to your new team.

“Didn’t you hear what happened? I couldn’t stay.” Despite the shift in mood, Bokuto still had a grin on his face, and it cheered you up straight away.

“Actually, I need to go put those boys in their place.” Akaashi smiled as he caught onto what you were getting at and both of them followed you over to where your friends were resting by the side of the court. They noticed you approaching and greeted you, eyeing the two beside you.

“Do you just know all the top players, or what?” You shook your head, smiling at Suga’s comment.

“Do you think you guys would be up for one more set? No punishments this time?” As expected, Hinata was already bouncing about, a bright grin on his face.

“Ooooh! Against who?”

“Me.”

“Absolutely not!” Your brother appeared in front of you in an instant, glaring you down. The two of you had barely spoken since the article was released, and you had a feeling that your first conversation of the day was about to be an argument.

“I’ve been cleared for practice, so I’m good to play now. One set won’t kill me.” He huffed in your face and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He was being stubborn, as usual.

“I promise to tap out the second it starts to hurt, okay?” Averting his eyes, he sighed, which was permission enough for you. You smiled and Hinata cheered, bounding up to you.

“Rei-chan! Can I be on your team?” Hearing Bokuto chuckle behind you, Hinata glanced at him in question.

“Sorry Hinata, but the other team is going to need all the help they can get.” Tanaka and Noya began to get riled up at your confidence.

“If that serve the other day was anything to go by, then she’s right. I want to be on the other team. I want to receive a spike from that hand.” Noya stood proudly with his hands on his hips, grinning at you devilishly.

“I’d expect nothing less from you, Noya.” With a smile, the team began sorting themselves into two teams as you quickly warmed up. Yourself, your brother, Tanaka, Daichi, and Ennoshita ended up on one team, and Noya, Asahi, Sugawara, Hinata, and Tsukishima were placed on the other.

It was definitely strange standing on a court like this again, especially on an all-boys court, but as soon as the coach tossed you a ball, you felt the adrenaline rush through you. Catching wind of the little independent practice match, and Bokuto’s cheers, some players from the other teams had idled towards your court to watch, intrigued by the fact that you were playing when you were clearly not on the boys’ team.

You began to hear whispers; your name, your reputation, the national logo on your shirt, the article, but you blocked them all out and got ready to serve, spinning the ball between your hands a few times.

It was just like last time; you felt alive.

Taking a few steps backwards, you adjusted your body to take your signature position, facing the left, the ball balancing on the palm of your right hand which was outstretched to face the other side of the court.

With a deep breath, you listened as Ukai blew the whistle, and you tossed the ball high up into the air. One second you were running forward, the next you were up in the air just like the ball, high above everyone else, beaming at the sight of the other side of the net. With every ounce of power you could muster, you hit the ball, feeling the sting of contact as you sent it flying towards the other end of the gym.

It hit the floor before Noya could even flinch, flying past him so fast that he could feel the air shift as it sped by.

“A service ace! On the first serve! Woah…”

“That… was… wow.”

“Nice one, Kageyama! Do it again!” You giggled at their surprise, your eyes skimming over the faces of the watching players. A lot more had noticed the game now, the crowd expanding.

“I’ll get it next time, Rei-chan!” Sending a thumbs up to Noya, you reset your position and Ukai tossed you another ball. You positioned yourself in the exact same way and sent another serve towards the other side of the court, not exactly as powerful, but shocking none the less. Although, this time, Noya just managed to dig it.

However, he sent it back to your side of the court.

“Sorry!”

“Chance ball!” Daichi shouted as he received the ball. He sent it over to Tobio and you and Tanaka both ran up to the net to spike.

You jumped and the other side’s blockers jumped with you, but as Tsukishima’s face levelled with yours, you smirked, causing him to look over just as Tanaka spiked the ball. Asahi dove to save it, but it was too late, letting the ball hit the floor, your team gaining another point.

The relay carried on for some time, both teams gaining a healthy amount of points. Most of the watchers had ditched the game, more interested in their food than anything else, but both sides refused to give up until they won.

Your side hit twenty points first, still a good five points in the lead over the others. Tsukishima had yet to block you, and despite his collected exterior, you could tell he was slowly getting more and more irritated by your tactics. No matter how much he studied you, observed your movements as you played, he could never get a read on you. He was usually fairly good at predicting movements this far into the game, but he couldn’t keep up with you. He absolutely hated it, but he was unbelievably impressed.

Was this what national players were like?

Even with you out of commission, you were wiping the floor with them. All he could tell was that you weren’t finished just yet. You still had a trick up your sleeve; you were too calm. The spikes you were hitting were amazing, but somehow not as good as your serves and he couldn’t figure out why they were so different. For the most part, you had been acting as a decoy because you had figured out that him and Hinata were paying more attention to you, but Tsukishima knew that wasn’t your position. You were a wing spiker; you had said so on that very first day he had met you. And for the wing spiker for a national team, it didn’t seem like you were putting in one hundred percent of your effort, and he couldn’t for the life of him think of a reason why you wouldn’t.

Were you that confident?

You clearly didn’t need to put in maximum effort, you were doing just fine at winning without doing so, but for someone who loved volleyball as much as you did, he had expected you to spike in the same way as Hinata, who cherished every toss he was given. There was definitely something off about it.

Tsukishima was so busy caught up in his thoughts, he missed the subtle nod that Tobio sent your way, as well as the smirk that it brought to your lips.

Asahi served the ball, which was neatly received by Ennoshita, who sent it straight to your brother. Once again, you ran up to the net, with Tsukishima and Hinata ready to block your spike. There was only one problem.

As you crouched down to jump, you smiled at them through the net. And then suddenly, you were gone, somehow already at the other side of the court, where Tanaka was meant to be right now. The other team merely blinked, and the ball was in their side of the court, rebounding off of the gym floor.

“Huh?” Pretty much every player left in the gym were stood with their jaws practically on the floor, gaping at you as you laughed.

“I was waiting for that!” You high-fived your brother, who actually looked a little shocked himself, but not as much as the rest of the team.

“Ooooh, I haven’t done that in so long! That was amazing!”

“That- that’s my spike!” Hinata rushed up to face you through the net.

“But it’s better?” Tsukishima joined in, with a little ‘hey’ from Hinata. You nodded, giggling as you looked over to see Ukai, Takeda, and Kiyoko all staring at you and Tobio in awe.

“Is this another move of ours that’s actually yours?” The blond smirked at you, actually joking with you for once.

“Technically, yes. But it’s not the spike that’s the move.”

“It’s the toss.” Ukai finished for you and you nodded.

“While the serve is actually my move, which I taught Oikawa, who taught it to Tobio here, the toss is all his.” You poked the boy in the side, and he squirmed away from you.

“I did actually teach him how to toss because that was my original position, but it’s his genius that makes it what it is. When I realised he was so good at it, I switched from setter to wing spiker so that we could both practice at the same time and benefit from it.”

“And you both got so used to each other and your abilities that there was no one that could hit his tosses like you could, until Hinata came along.” You gave the coach a thumbs up in affirmation and Hinata gaped at you.

“Two geniuses in one family, huh?” Suga still looked shocked, but he had his usual uplifting smile on his face.

“So basically, you can play any position?”

“Yup!” Giggling, you rested a hand on the back of your neck, suddenly conscious of the amount of attention that was being directed your way.

All of a sudden, a growl echoed through the gym and you sheepishly wrapped your arms around your stomach in embarrassment. The coach let out a chuckle and the team dispersed, returning to their positions.

“Okay, let’s get this wrapped up and get some food!” The whole team cheered, and you heard Bokuto join in. Shaking your head in amusement, you locked eyes with him and grinned as he and Akaashi sent you a thumbs up. You sent one back and got into position, ready to receive.

The match didn’t last much longer, you being the one to score the last four points consecutively, ending the match with your victory.

“A whole ten-point lead?” You were walking over as a new boy approached where Bokuto and Akaashi were stood. Recognising the Nekoma uniform and the severe bedhead-looking mop of black hair, you assumed this was their captain, going off what Hinata had gushed to you about their team in the run up to the camp.

“Was it the shrimp’s quick?” Akaashi nodded at you in greeting as you came to stand beside him.

“Actually, no.” Looking at him curiously, you resisted a smile as he did a double take after glancing your way.

“It was mine.” His face was a picture of pure panic, and it was hard not to find it funny.

“Kag-Kageyama Rei?” Oh, so he knew you.

“Nice to meet you.” You reached out your hand and he shook it eagerly, bowing slightly.

“Rei, this is Kuroo Tetsurou, Nekoma’s captain.” Good, you had guessed right.

“Shouyou and Tobio have told me a lot about your team.” He chuckled nervously and shuffled to stand slightly behind Bokuto, an action you raised your eyebrow at. This didn’t seem like the ‘big scary captain’ that Hinata had told you about.

“I’m actually a really big fan of yours. It’s a shame about what happened.” He was cautious about it, probably assuming that it would upset you, but you shook it off and smiled.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Rei-chan!” Turning your head, you saw Suga waving you over as the rest of the team were beginning to walk out of the gym. You nodded at him and he started to leave as well.

“Right, I’ll see you guys later?” They all nodded, and you waved at them as you jogged away to catch up with the team.

The cool breeze on your neck felt amazing as you stepped out of the gym and you closed your eyes, only for a cough to interrupt your peace. Opening one eye, you noticed the blond straight away, and you sighed as he approached you.

“What are you doing still stood here?” His hands were shoved in his pockets and he looked more worn out than he usually did.

“Waiting for you so you wouldn’t get lost.” You scoffed as the two of you started to walk towards where you assumed the cafeteria was.

“I’m not that stupid.” He rolled his eyes and smirked at you, his signature condescending expression slowly making its way back onto his face, where it belonged.

“You’re related to Kageyama, so I doubt it.” You laughed, and he was amused at how much more difficult it was to rile you up compared to your brother.

“Your blocks were really good today.” He merely hummed, and you glanced over to see him looking away from you, no quip or snide comment at the ready.

“Not good enough to stop you, apparently.” Nodding, there was a pause, the silence slightly heavy.

“Maybe so. But you have time to improve. I’m sure this camp will give you a lot to think about and work on.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You were a bit shocked, and slightly concerned.

“Don’t you want to go to nationals?” His gaze shifted to the floor, his hands finding themselves deeper inside of his pockets.

“I… don’t know.” He mumbled, and lifted his head to look at you, only you weren’t by his side anymore. You had stopped and you were looking at him with a hard expression on his face.

“Tsukki, why do you play?” He had no answer for you. He could only stare at you, eyes trained on yours as you stepped forward to stand in front of him.

“Are you scared?”

“Of what?” It was harsh, and he knew that. He didn’t mean it to be, but either way, you weren’t backing down.

“Hinata?” He laughed as if you had said the most ridiculous thing in the world, but you could see straight through it.

“You don’t think you can ever be as good as him, do you?” You knew you’d hit the nail straight on the head when he rolled his eyes, turning to continue walking off toward the cafeteria.

“You know what? Maybe you never will be as good as Hinata at attacking. But do you think he’ll ever be as good as you at defending.” He stopped once again, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“He attacks, you defend. That’s called teamwork, Tsukki. You’re good at defending, that’s why you’re a blocker. Everyone has their role. But Hinata can’t carry one attacking like he does it you can’t be bothered to improve. If you don’t get better, the other team will be able to score, and then you won’t be able to stay on the court and Hinata can’t attack at all. Karasuno will lose, and you’ll go back to being just the ‘flightless crows’ like you used to be. Do you want that Tsukki?”

“Of course not!” He turned to face you fully, stepping closer as if he was trying to intimidate you.

“Then get over it.” His eyes widened at your words; the same words that he had spoken to you only a few days earlier.

You were right. God, you were so right. And you even hit him with his own advice. You were really pushing his buttons today.

“Whatever.” Chucking to yourself, you knew that you’d managed to get your point across. It was satisfying, really, to shut him up like that.

“Do you think they’ll have any sushi?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

The two of you bickered the entire way to the cafeteria, and continued to do so as you both got your food and as you sat down at a table with him and Yamaguchi, completely unaware of the shocked glances that you were getting from the rest of the team.

For once this year, there was not a single thing you were worried about. You could play volleyball with a team of people that you were lucky enough to call your friends, and there was really nothing that could go wrong.

Finally, you were happy.

taglist: @tchalameme, @iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire, @loreblackthorne, @lorentime, @influxencer

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #karasuno #nekoma #aobajohsai #shiratorizawa #fukurodani #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#tsukishima

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somepretty-things · 4 years

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37 weeks pregnant today!!!

And I am full term! Baby girl only has a few weeks to cook but could come at any moment. I am so excited to meet her. I feel like we are mostly ready, just need to get the car seat into Chris's car so we are completely ready for anything.

Our hospital "bag" and diaper bag are ready for the most part. I opted to use our large suitcase for our hospital bag. I had originally packed our medium size suitcase, however I wanted to fit a pillow and throw blanket for Chris since he will be staying too the entire time since if he leaves he can't come back. I have heard stories that the support person usually doesn't have a bed (maybe a recliner) and some people have said they wish they brought extra pillows or a blanket for them. So half the suitcase has the throw blanket and pillow for him. The other half has his clothes, some clothes for me, and toiletries for both of us, charging cords, and a power bank. I ended up buying the Itzy Ritzy Boss diaper bag with gift cards I had for Target and am so glad I did even though it's expensive. The bag is quite large and I was able to fit a few outfits for the baby, a swaddle blanket and a regular baby blanket for her as well as our snack bag lol. The hospitall bag and diaper bag are sitting in the baby's room right now, so when go time happens Chris will just pick them up and put them in the car for us. I just want to get a few other snacks for us and of course get the car seat base and seat into the car and we will be good to go.

At the my OB visit my doctor said my cervix is still completely closed but looks like it's starting to thin which is a good start. I was a little disappointed since I was hoping it would at least start to open. He said next week I will have my induction date scheduled.

Symptoms this past week included the usual. But also I think my belly dropped slightly so some of the upper abdominal pain I had isn't there anymore. Back pain however has been really awful. It doesn't go away no matter if I take tylenol, use a heating pad, change how I am sitting, wear a belly brace.... nothing makes it go away. As I am typing this my back is driving me crazy, it hurts so bad. Other than that I also have been having some lower abdomen menstrual like cramps and have been feeling pressure in my vulva... both are supposedly normal. And I'm super tired. I hear stories about women nesting in these final weeks but I have no drive to nest. It takes so much will power just to go to work everyday now. I hate getting out of bed because the extra weight makes it so difficult to get up from anything. Oh, also my hands and feet have been swelling like crazy. By the end of the day at work, when I come home and finally put my feet up it's like I have no ankles, they are just fully swollen. I tried compression socks but it's hard enough for my to put on regular socks... lol, I don't know how anyone expects a heavily pregnant person to then put on compression socks. I am just ready to be done being pregnant.

#37 weeks pregnant #9 months pregnant #3rd trimester #third trimester #somepretty-things

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

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It’s Complicated Chapter 5: A Bloody Mess

Source: @fortheloveofbarba

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Read it on AO3

Frankie knelt where she was, next to the blood-soaked man with her hands up, thick drops of blood making trails of gore down her forearms.

“Please… he had a pulse.” Her eyes were wild and her voice was a shriek of desperation. “It was weak, but I’ve lost it now. I need to continue CPR-“

“Step away from him, Doctor. Do it now.” Dodds was using his commanding, authoritative voice, and Frankie was too dazed not to obey, even as she gasped with panic and resistance. She took two steps to the side of the body, not wanting to get any closer to Dodds or Benson, with their weapons drawn and aimed directly at her.

When Rojas had cleared the body, Benson stepped to it, leaned down and felt for a carotid pulse. Nothing. But the guy was still warm.

“Please, Olivia! Let me at least try!” Rojas was starting to lose it. Fat tears were trailing down her cheeks from eyes huge with terror.

“He’s gone,” Benson said. “He’s lost too much blood.”

At that moment, a team of paramedics burst into the room and pushed the cops and Rojas aside to work on the victim. Dodds took Frankie by the forearm and led her to the side of the room, giving them space to work.

“Who is that guy?” Dodds asked, glaring down at Frankie in full cop mode as he holstered his weapon.

“That’s… That’s Alan Canady.”

Dodds and Benson shared a look. If anything, this was worse than it had at first appeared. In that moment, it got even worse. The paramedics pronounced the man dead and covered him with a sheet.

“No! He had a pulse! I did CPR! Try! Please, you can’t just give up!” Dodds had to hold Frankie by the shoulders as she tried to lunge over to the victim.

“Lady, that knife’s in his heart. I’d bet my house on it. He’s dead,” one of the paramedics said with no attempt at kindness even though he had no idea who the man had been to this woman.

Frankie issued a wordless wail of despair.

Olivia put herself between Frankie and the body. “Tell us what happened.”

“I didn’t do this!” She shouted.

“Talk to me. Tell me what happened,” Olivia said sternly, leaning into Frankie’s face.

“They… They… They let me go back to my office today. The tweaker kid – his name is Juwon – he was waiting for me there when I went outside at lunch. I wasn’t even going to go anywhere, I just wanted to be outside for a minute! There was an FBI agent right there in the lobby, I don’t know why he didn’t see…”

“What happened?” Dodds asked, gently but firmly pulling her back to the facts.

“He stepped up to me and he said, ‘Alan knows about Barba. If you don’t want what happened to your car to happen to Barba, meet him at this hotel.’ And he gave me this room number.”

“So you just came over here? There was an FBI agent a few feet away and you didn’t ask for help?”

“He said Alan would kill Barba if I told the FBI or the cops!”

“All right, all right,” Liv said. “Then what happened?”

“I came here. I didn’t even go back up to my office. I had my wallet because I was going to get some coffee from the cart in the lobby, so I just hopped a bus and came here. And when I got here, Alan was standing there, holding a knife. He did this. He stabbed himself! Now I know what he was doing with his fingers…” She looked away, as if remembering.

“What are you talking about?” Dodds asked.

“He did this weird thing with his fingers. At the time, I thought it looked like he was counting his ribs. That must’ve been exactly what he was doing! He meant to kill himself. He meant to stab himself in the heart!” Frankie turned back to the body and began to cry in earnest. “Oh, my God! That’s what he meant! He’s …”

“OK, look at me,” Olivia said, putting a hand on Frankie’s shoulder and turning her to face Olivia. “So you get to this room, and then what? You knock? What?”

“No. The door was open. He was just… standing there. Right where he is now. And he did that thing with his fingers, and he said ‘I get it now. But if I can’t have you, I’m taking you with me.’ And then he… just…” she mimed setting a knife against her chest, taking a deep breath, and pushing it in.

“He stabbed himself,” Olivia asked, looking into her eyes.

“Yes! He put the knife right where he wanted it to go, and he just… pushed it in. Hard.” Frankie put her bloody hands to her face as she continued to cry.

Neither Dodds nor Benson had any idea what to make of this. Could a person actually do that?

“OK, Frankie… let’s keep going. What happened next? What did you do?”

“He… he fell over, just like you see him. I ran to him, I was screaming, I don’t know. I grabbed the knife, but I knew if I pulled it out, he’d bleed worse than if I left it in. So I felt for a pulse, and it was weak. I didn’t have my phone, I’d left it at the office, so I just screamed for help. Then I lost his pulse, and I moved to do CPR, but the knife moved, so I had to hold it while I did compressions with one hand… And then you came in. Oh, God! I didn’t do this! Please…”

Benson and Dodds eventually took Frankie to another room in the hotel while the CSU team began to process the scene. They asked her again and again what had happened, but got no more details. A CSU tech took an endless series of photographs of Frankie while Dodds and Benson questioned her.

An hour into the investigation, as Frankie sat on a small, uncomfortable chair, still encrusted with drying blood and still near-hysterical, a tall, severe-looking man in a suit entered the room. Dodds and Benson shared a look, and Dodds went to talk to the man.

“Who is that? What’s happening?” Frankie panted.

“That’s ADA Stone.”

“No. Oh, please, no. Olivia, I didn’t do this! Alan did it! I tried to help him!”

“I know, Frankie. I hear you. Stone’s good, but he’s fair. Let’s just take this one step at a time.”

“Shit, Liv. I can’t… If the ADA is here, I need to stop talking to you.”

Olivia nodded, looking into Frankie’s eyes. “Yeah, Doc. You probably do.”

Frankie dissolved completely into tears.

“Listen,” Olivia whispered to her, looking over her shoulder at Stone to make sure he was engrossed in his conversation with Dodds. “I’m gonna call Barba. I’ll ask him to get you the best possible lawyer. OK?”

Frankie could only nod as she choked on her sobs.

It took very little time for ADA Stone to instruct Dodds to arrest Frankie. Colleagues or not, Dodds couldn’t argue with the man’s reasoning. He tried to be as kind as he could as he cuffed her and explained her rights. She continued to cry and look terrified, but she was beginning to get the glassy-eyed look suspects got when it began to sink in that this was all really happening. The only good thing was that she was smart enough not to say anything more about what had happened beyond repeating, “I didn’t do this.” Those were the only four words she said to Peter Stone as she was led past him to the squad car.

**************

Frankie was finally allowed to change clothes and shower once they got her to the M.E.’s office and examined. Not particularly out of kindness, but because her blood-soaked clothes were now evidence. She couldn’t have cared less what she looked like, which was good, because she looked pretty much the way she felt, but at least she was no longer covered in Alan Canady’s blood. The awful, cheap grey OCME sweats were thin and baggy, and the stains on the yellowed T-shirt they gave her to wear underneath were something Frankie was simply not going to acknowledge. Things were bad enough. The only thing she allowed herself to think about the rough, white cotton socks and plastic shower shoes was that they were exactly like the ones she’d seen on ‘Orange Is The New Black’.

From there, Dodds took her to the station house, where she was finally uncuffed and made to sit in the wrong chair in one of SVU’s interrogation rooms. She was met there by a strikingly good-looking woman with beautifully-streaked hair and a suit so lovely Frankie noticed it even in her current circumstances.

“Dr. Rojas? I’m Nikki Staines. I’m your attorney.” She put her hand protectively on Frankie’s shoulder and turned to Dodds and Benson. “Out. Both of you. And turn off the camera and the speakers.”

Dodds and Benson did as she asked.

Frankie looked up at her attorney with huge eyes brimming with tears. “I didn’t kill him. He killed himself.”

“That’s what I hear,” Staines said, laying her briefcase on the table and sitting across from Frankie. “We’ll get to all of that. Right now, I want to know how you are. Are you hurt? Do you need anything?”

Frankie shook her head. “I’m OK. I’m… Is Barba…”

“He knows where you are. But you’re not going to be able to see him for a while. He shouldn’t even have gotten involved enough to call me. I want coffee. You want some?”

“Yes, please,” Frankie answered in a small voice.

Staines didn’t allow the SVU detectives or the ADA into the interrogation room for the next two hours. She took her time, learning all she could about her new client and what had happened. She gave no indication of this, of course, but she hoped the cops would find some helpful evidence. Dr. Rojas’s story was pretty flimsy.

And yet, Nikki believed her completely. First and foremost, Nikki made it a point to believe all of her clients. But she had also been attacked herself recently, and had learned firsthand the twisted, fucked-up shit men could do to women in order to control them. Not only was she convinced that her client was telling the truth, and that Alan Canady got exactly what he deserved, but she was also pissed. That was good. Nikki Staines was more than a match for Peter Stone. Pissed off Nikki Staines was his worst nightmare.

“All right, Frankie, let me tell you what’s gonna happen.”

“In a minute, I’m going to let those bozos in here, and we’re going to tell them you’re not talking. You’re already under arrest, so I’m afraid that means you’re going to have to be arraigned, and that’s not going to happen until tomorrow.”

“I have to stay in jail? Overnight? In the Tombs?”

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do about that. But you’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll ask some guard friends of mine to look out for you. And tomorrow, we’ll ask for bail.”

“I’ll get bail, won’t I? I won’t have to stay in jail?”

“If I have anything to say about it, yes. You’ll get bail. It’ll probably be high, and you’ll have to surrender your passport-“

“I don’t care. Anything. Just get me out of jail!”

“OK, OK. I’ll do everything I can. And I’ll talk to Stone, see if I can get him to agree to something.”

“Will he?”

“I don’t know. He can be a hardass. But I’ll be my most charming.”

Frankie appreciated Nikki’s warmth and whatever she was doing to try to convey confidence. Frankie was not confident. She was more frightened than she had ever been in her life. At the moment Alan had pushed the knife into his chest, all she could think of was saving the life of an injured man. She’d gone instantly into doctor mode. She realized now that was exactly what Alan had been counting on, and she’d fallen, so easily, so willingly, directly into his trap. She’d touched the knife. Hell, she’d grabbed the knife. And she’d been found by the police, kneeling over his body, his blood dripping from her hands and soaked through all her clothes into her underwear. She could think of no single shred of physical evidence that supported her story or called into question the idea that she’d killed him.

She hadn’t killed Alan, but it looked very much as though he had killed her. New York didn’t have the death penalty, but if Alan had put her in prison for first-degree murder, he’d have taken her life just the same. It would just be a longer, more painful wait to die.

Frankie didn’t say a word as ADA Stone strode into the interrogation room, followed by Lieutenant Benson and Sergeant Dodds. Nikki explained that Frankie had said all she was going to, and wouldn’t be answering any questions. Stone looked unsurprised and grim.

“We’re charging her with Murder One. If we’re done here, we’ll get her booked into the Tombs and I’ll see you in Arraignment Court tomorrow,” he said without expression.

“Listen, Peter, she’s a colleague. She’s an FBI Agent, and she’s an NYPD Consultant. Not to mention that she works closely with your office. She didn’t kill your vic. He killed himself. How about we talk about bail?”

Stone scoffed slightly. “Ms. Staines, I hear you, but this woman is the definition of a flight risk. I can’t agree to bail.”

“You can. C’mon, Peter, at least think about it. Ask for all the bail you want. A million. Two million. She’ll surrender her passport-“

“That’s my point, exactly. She has access to unlimited funds, she’s bilingual and has all kinds of contacts in Mexico. No bail. I’m sorry, Nikki.”

Stone turned around and left the room. Frankie thought he might be the coldest, most terrifying man she’d ever seen. She was more afraid of him than she’d been of Alan. Alan, at least, had had emotions.

************

It took everything Rafael Barba had not to attend Francisca Rojas’s arraignment the next morning. He wanted more than anything to be able to support her with a look, a small smile, anything. But he couldn’t. First of all, he had already contacted defense counsel on her behalf which, if his office learned he’d done it, would get him a reprimand, at the very least. Second, he was a material witness. As much as he hated the idea, he was the only one who knew certain things about this case. He was already in a terrible position with Stone, who hadn’t been happy to learn that a fellow Senior ADA was sleeping with an expert witness who was now Stone’s murder suspect. Barba didn’t give a fuck about Stone, but he did care about his law license. In order not to jeopardize that, he had to be unstintingly, scrupulously honest with Stone about everything he knew about Francisca Rojas. And he had been.

Stone now knew about the conversation Frankie and Rafael had where she’d asked him what the FBI and SVU would need to get a subpoena for Canady’s DNA. It was entirely possible that she’d gone to Canady’s hotel room to get the additional evidence Rafael had told her they would need. It had begun to look more probable with the discovery that the knife that had killed Alan Canady had come from the kitchen of Barba’s apartment. Where Rojas was staying.

Nikki Staines was eloquent, reasonable, and eminently logical as she argued that Frankie’s entire career had been spent in law enforcement, and that she had never had so much as a parking ticket. Frankie stood, shaking in the dress Nikki had chosen for her to wear to her arraignment, praying fervently never to have to set foot back in jail. It took Peter Stone about two minutes to crush that hope and get Frankie remanded to Riker’s Island to await trial. All Frankie could do was stand, mutely shaking, too stunned and terrified even to cry.

Nikki comforted Frankie as best she could, but wasn’t entirely surprised by the judge’s decision.

*******************

Nikki could instruct Frankie not to answer questions, but she couldn’t stop Stone or the SVU detectives from asking them. She sat next to Frankie, who looked pale and sick and heartbreakingly scared, around a dented metal table bolted to the floor in one of the interrogation rooms at Riker’s. Frankie’s orange jumpsuit was about two sizes too big, which contributed to her look of lost confusion.

“Dr. Rojas, the FBI agent in the lobby of Federal Plaza didn’t see you there on the day of the murder. Did you see him? Acknowledge him?” Stone asked.

Nikki nodded permission to answer. “I saw him,” Frankie said. “I didn’t acknowledge him.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think I was supposed to. He was supposed to be inconspicuous, so if Alan or the tweaker kid –“

“The tweaker kid – Juwon Jefferson?”

“Yeah. If they showed up, he’d see them but they wouldn’t see him.”

“Anybody else see you in the lobby? Did you speak to anyone?”

“No.”

“You said you took the bus to the hotel in Chelsea. Did you use a MetroCard?”

“No, I just paid cash.”

“Talk to anyone on the bus?”

“No. It was a short ride.”

Nikki interrupted. “Where’s the bus video? Why don’t we have that yet?”

Stone sighed. “Camera on the bus was inoperative. Did you talk to anyone at the hotel?”

“No. I knew the room number, I just went up. I didn’t want Alan to hurt Barba, and I hoped I could talk to him.”

“About what?”

“About… everything! I hoped I could talk him into, I don’t know… leaving me alone. Leaving Barba alone…”

“What made you think you’d be successful this time, after…”

“Peter, that’s enough. You want facts that’ll lead to evidence showing my client didn’t kill the guy, fine. But we’re not interested in your opinion of her choices.” Nikki gave Stone a mildly reproving look.

“Did anyone see you after you went through the hotel lobby? Anyone see you on the stairs, or in the hallway, or in Canady’s room?”

“No. No one but Alan. And it happened exactly like I said.”

Peter Stone had had a lot of pretty women look at him with those pleading eyes. He was immune to it. Besides which, he didn’t believe a word out of this one’s mouth.

“And you have absolutely no proof of that, is that right? Nothing to show that the victim stabbed himself which, I have to tell you, is a pretty fantastic allegation.”

“OK,” Nikki said, scooting her chair out. “We’re done.”

“Frankie, please,” Dodds said, putting a hand on her arm. “We need your help. If there is anything, anything you can think of…”

“Find the tweaker kid,” she said, putting her hand on top of his. “Please, Mike. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m telling the truth. Find the tweaker kid and make him tell you what he did. Maybe Alan told him what he was planning-“

“Sergeant, that’s enough,” Stone said icily, pushing his chair back under the metal table and signaling to the guard to unlock the bars. “We do not work for the suspect.”

Dodds shot him a look, but squeezed Frankie’s arm. “We’ll keep looking,” he said kindly.

As soon as Stone and the SVU detectives had gone, Frankie looked up at the guard, expecting to be led back to her cell. “Porter’s here, too,” Nikki said. “He wanted to see you alone. He’s on our side.”

A tear slid from Frankie’s eye. She sniffed, trying not to begin crying again. She felt so wrung out as it was, she didn’t think she had another crying jag in her. Her head pounded and she felt weak and rubbery. She had neither eaten nor slept since her arrest.

Porter looked like a White Knight as he came down the barred wall of the interrogation room and into the room itself. He went to Frankie and hugged her until the guard cleared his throat and shook his head. “You know the rules, Agent Porter.”

Porter sat down across from Frankie and took her hands. “I’m so sorry, Frankie. This is all my fault. I should have been able to get Canady.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean. It’s Alan. This is all Alan. He planned this… I did exactly what he wanted me to do. He said he was taking me with him, and he has.”

“No. No. I do not accept that. And neither do you. Now, listen to me, Doctor. I am going to find the tweaker kid and I’m going to make this right. I will not rest until I do that. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you. Thanks, Dean. I don’t know if it’ll do any good, even if you do find him.”

“Keep the faith, you understand?”

“He’s right, Frankie,” Nikki said, putting a hand on her shoulder in a way Frankie really needed.

“I’ll try,” she said, in a small voice. Porter wanted to stab Canady himself for reducing his confident friend to this.

Porter grinned lopsidedly. “Barba says hello.”

Frankie didn’t smile. Instead, she put her face in her hands. “Oh, I’ve screwed his life up so bad. Is he in trouble? Is he OK?”

Nikki raised an eyebrow. She knew Barba’s reputation, and hadn’t been surprised when Frankie told her she was another of his conquests. She couldn’t really blame Frankie. Nikki had been tempted herself; Barba was hot AF, but she made it a rule not to date opposing counsel. Still, there was something that sounded like real emotion in Frankie’s voice. Poor kid. She had enough trouble. Nikki hoped Barba wouldn’t break her heart on top of everything else.

“He’s fine, Frankie.” Porter answered. “He’s cooperating with Stone, but he’s been clear he knows you’re innocent. He’s just worried about you.”

“Tell him I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just worry about you, OK? Barba’s fine. And you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“OK,” she sighed.

“There’s one more thing. What’s this I hear about you refusing to let your family come?”

“NO.” Frankie said, more firmly than she’d said anything thus far. “I don’t want them to see me like this. I mean it. Please.”

“Frankie, you deserve their love and support.”

“Look, I don’t think I’m doing this to punish myself. I just… I can’t stand the idea of my family seeing me in this-“ she pulled at the baggy orange jumpsuit. “Here,” she weakly waved a hand at their surroundings.

“I had a feeling you’d stick to that,” he said. “But they’re persistent. I see where you get your stubbornness.”

Frankie’s mouth twitched.

“So I made a deal.”

She scowled at him.

“Rafe is coming. Only Rafe. He’s on a plane right now. That was the best deal I could make for both sides, and it’s happening, so deal with it.”

Frankie slumped in her chair and nodded in defeat. It would be good to see her oldest brother. She thought she could handle the humiliation of Rafe seeing her in prison, accused of murder, as long as her father didn’t. She was grateful her mother wasn’t alive to see this.

***************

Barba laid in bed, hands behind his head, staring at the windows in the building across the street. He was sick to his stomach over what had happened to Francisca. He would never call a woman with a name that beautiful “Frankie.” He wasn’t sure it was accurate to say that he missed her, after three nights together, but that’s what it felt like. He could smell her on his pillows. He could hear her voice laughing at him. What the hell had happened to his life? One minute, he was getting a new colleague he couldn’t stand, the next he was basically dragging her into his home, and into his bed. It had taken him no time at all to become thoroughly preoccupied with her. It wasn’t love. Of course it wasn’t. But it was… a sensation he hadn’t had in a very long time.

And now this. This woman he had met a month before, and barely knew, was in prison for stabbing her ex-boyfriend in the heart with a knife. His knife. He wished with all his heart he’d never met her. Well, that was a lie. He wished with about half his heart he’d never met her. With the other half, he wished she was here with him now, safe and warm in his arms. He knew that was nothing but hormones, of course. Wasn’t it? Then why couldn’t he get her voice out of his head, and why did it bother him so damn much that right this moment, she was probably terrified and crying, and lonelier than he was?

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza #peter stone #olivia benson #mike dodds #law & order SVU Agent Dean Porter #Law & Order Nikki Staines

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 6 years

Text

Chapter 14: most of this is tangential but I think most of you know that’s my writing style by now

Yeah so....apparently spring break is great for my writing brain, because I wrote this in two days. Do I have an essay due in two weeks to think about and a play to read? Yes. Am I? Hell no. Instead, I offer up this chapter, which contains some small worldbuilding and an even smaller amount of stuff that pushes the broad plot, and you can figure out what to call the rest of it

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

“Hey, Clay, I need your expertise.”

“Math, or human interaction?”

“Legally, you shouldn’t be able to be good at both of those at the same time. But, yeah, how do I say ‘sorry that your brother has committed multiple murders and is one of the Fair Folk, checking in to see how you’re doing after all that’ but without sounding either too dismissively casual or overbearingly worried and overstepping the boundaries of this relationship that I don’t know what it actually is?”

“Apollo.”

“Yeah?”

“Dude.”

“Yeah?”

“Your life is fucked way beyond my wheelhouse, dude.”

“Just help me write the damn text.”

The first cold winds of winter blow down from the mountains early Monday morning. Apollo wakes around 3 am with a numb nose and, cursing the fae, stumbles out of bed for a hoodie, an extra pair of socks, and the extra blankets he and Clay keep in the hall closet. It happens every year, takes him by surprise every time, but he can’t remember it ever being October when the faery chill hits.

Clay says the same later, when they both are awake for real, and Apollo finds him in the kitchen making coffee that, judging from his wide eyes and frenetic babbling, he doesn’t need. “D’you think it’s something we did?” he asks, slopping coffee onto the counter next to his mug. “We pissed ‘em off digging around and that’s why there’s bad weather so early?” He spins about, sloshing more coffee onto the floor. Apollo with a wordless glare points him to the paper towels. “What if I called in sick and hid at home until the weather is better?”

“Unless there’s snow, I don’t think that’s an excuse,” Apollo says. He pushes the blinds aside. There is not snow on the street below.

“I bet Mr Starbuck won’t go in. I bet Director Cosmos won’t show up. They’re gonna hide safely from the Folk and I’m gonna leave this apartment and die.”

“The more you tell me about how the Center runs, I’m surprised it does run,” Apollo says.

“Bit like your law office,” Clay says.

“True and uncalled for.”

There’s probably some sort of scientific reason behind it; Apollo has tried to look but meteorology makes his head spin. But when winter comes, snow hits the LA area and the mountains of Kurain at lower altitudes than it should be, and nowhere else. And they blame it on the fae and go on with their lives. It’s a stupid city with stupid superstitions that are real. It’s why no one lives here. It’s why Apollo can afford to live here.

He stares into the fridge, decides he’s skipping breakfast and they need to go grocery shopping, and goes to put on a sweater.

Biking to work is hell on these kind of days. He remembers last winter, when Mr Gavin never kept his office warm enough for anyone — especially not for Apollo, who did the worst with the cold snaps of any of his coworkers. Was it because Kristoph was one of the fae that fae weather didn’t bother him? Does it bother Phoenix? Klavier?

He realizes on opening the door to the agency — he has a key but doesn’t use it, finding that even when he locks the door at night it is open ready for him in the morning — that he dressed anticipating the temperature in Kristoph’s office, not Phoenix’s, which has always been temperate. Maybe the sweater was overkill.

The door swings open to deliver an icy rush of air to his face.

Or maybe not.

“Shit,” he says, tossing his jacket to the couch and breathing into his hands.

He makes for his desk, flipping the light on in the other room and stopping short at the mess piled up around Phoenix’s. He glances back through to the front door. Cleaner than usual, like someone picked up everything littering the floor, and dumped it right in that spot. It’s something to do today, at least. Probably won’t be getting any clients. As usual.

“Shit, it’s cold.” He shivers and rubs his arms and then screams as something soft hits him over the head and shoulders. The world goes dark for several seconds as he wrestles with it, finally flinging to the floor a dark blue blanket. “Oh.”

Glad that no one else is in the office right now, he picks it back up and turns it over in his hands to find it is branded with the Steel Samurai logo. Trucy’s, maybe? She’s never shown a great deal of interest in that sort of television, as far as Apollo knows. He glances up at the bookshelf that sits next to the doorway. It must have fallen from up there — conveniently for the weather and that the office is now a walk-in freezer. He wraps it around his shoulders like a cloak and sets to work on the mess at Phoenix’s desk, because if he has to look at it any longer, he’s going to start breaking out in hives. As long as he can toss it aside and pretend to have dignity should any client wander in, he’ll be fine.

After a few hours of cleaning, he goes to check his hair in the bathroom mirror, remembers that it fell on Saturday — and finds that it has been put together back on the wall. He doesn’t remember exactly what it looked like, having no reason to commit that to memory, but he would swear it is the same one, and he can see and feel a few faint cracks if he squints and runs his hand over it. “This place really is haunted, huh?” he asks, spiking his hair back to its proper shape.

The lights blink, maybe in response, and maybe just a coincidence. “Benevolently haunted,” he adds stupidly, not wanting to offend whatever entity may lurk here. “Because it means that Mr Wright doesn’t have to buy a new mirror.”

The mirror shakes as though rattled by an earthquake, but nothing else does.

Or like laughter. Like it’s shaking with laughter.

Apollo goes back to his desk, the sense of satisfaction he had at cleaning gone — both because of this weird interaction with the office, and because of the onset of existential dread that this is what the rest of his career is going to look like, sprints and bursts of Mr Wright’s fuckery and months of drudgery in between. He’s probably peaked with this Jurist System test case. That’s going to be his biggest professional accomplishment.

He sloughs the blanket off onto his desk, walks back into the main room, and nearly straight into a woman.

“Ack!” Springing backwards, he slams his shoulder into the doorframe. So much for a dignified entrance even without the blanket-cloak. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here! You should’ve said something!”

She doesn’t look shocked by him or his outburst and she turns her dark eyes away from the bookshelf to look over Apollo. She wears some sort of robe or traditional garment, and her glossy black hair swings like a cape behind her even with the smallest, slowest movement of her head. “Is your boss here?” she asks.

“Er, Mr Wright — no, he’s not. I can call him and let him know someone’s here -- but he’s not a defense attorney anymore, so if you need some sort of defense, he can’t…” He trails off at her calm, unwavering stare. If she knows that he isn’t the Wright on the door, that he isn’t the one in charge, she probably knows Phoenix, and she probably knows what happened to him. “I’ll, uh, call him.”

She bows her head and drifts toward the piano. Apollo ducks back around the doorway to give himself a moment for silent screaming before he dials Phoenix’s number, and, to his lack of surprise, reaches voicemail. He starts to text Trucy, realizes that she is probably in school at this time, texts her anyway, and then Phoenix.

Someone at office to see you

The woman has lifted the cover of the piano keys and runs her finger down the edges without compressing any to make a sound. Apollo can’t begin to guess how old she is — his age? Mr Wright’s age? Something ancient and out of time? She turns back to him, the curtain of her hair swinging. “Can I get you anything?” Apollo asks. He wishes he had Trucy; she is too good at setting people at ease, at setting the office at ease, at offsetting this tension that is tightening in his lungs and in the frozen air. “While you wait?”

“Be careful in your questions, little dragon,” she says softly. “Do not let them dangle so open-ended.”

“I…” He closes his mouth. She tilts her head. Her hair looks strange, the way the light hits it; when she moves, it highlights auburn red, like the color is layered beneath it, except that makes no sense because he can see the hair that frames her face and how it is black down behind her neck. “What did you say your name was, again?”

He knows she didn’t say her name.

She smiles. “Clever little dragon,” she says. “You may, as many do, call me Iris.”

With his heart in his mouth, Apollo nods.

She walks her slender fingers down the piano keys. The notes creak out hoarsely, as if it hasn’t been touched, let alone tuned, in many years. Knowing Mr Wright, he probably got it off the sidewalk somewhere. Iris makes no attempt at a melody, does nothing but plunk out staccato little croaks. All the while, the office grows colder. Apollo throws open the blinds, hoping the sunlight will help alleviate the chill and counter the way the ceiling lights are flickering and dimming.

Haunted. Yeah, that’s it.

The door swings open and Phoenix enters in a different drab ugly hoodie than his usual, his blue beanie pulled down low over his forehead and a bright pink scarf hiding the rest of his face but his eyes. That answers Apollo’s question about how much he feels the cold, and it is not enough to muffle his, “Aw, shit,” or distract from the way his black eyes immediately turn blue.

Whatever air of mystery Apollo thought that Iris had evaporates. She bows, her hair falling as a veil around her face, and with her face still toward the floor she says in a rush, “The Mystics are both immensely preoccupied and wished for me to appear in their steads, else I would not come here or elsewhere to bother you—”

“Hey, no worries.” Phoenix holds up his hands in a placating gesture of surrender; they blink red like lies. “It’s not you, specifically.” That appears as truth. “Any time any of your family shows up impromptu, I know I’m in for some shit. What’s up?”

Iris lifts her head, shakes her hair back from her big sad eyes. “You’re making waves again,” she says.

“In the Court? Because I knew I was doing that here.” Phoenix reaches up to take his beanie off and then seems to think better of it, instead only partially unwinding his scarf. “Of course it’s in the Court. You’re all freezing me to death. Carry that message to the Mystics.”

Iris’ lips twitch. “Ah, but that pink is such a good color on you.”

Time seems to stop, for a moment, a pendulum halfway through its swing, something heavy sinking down onto all of them. Iris’ eyes widen; one foot shifts back. Phoenix’s eyebrows lower, just for a second, just so that Apollo can see something is passing between them, and then he laughs and breaks the spell and says, “Isn’t it? Trucy made it for me; the beanie, too. She’s been knitting since she was little and she’s gotten really good at it, except for color matching — you should see what she gives to Edgeworth. She probably does it on purpose. Apollo.” He jumps. He hadn’t expected the sudden shift in Phoenix’s mood, had expected to be forgotten as soon as the woman began speaking. “Don’t let Trucy know when your birthday is unless you want…” Phoenix rubs a hand over his chin. “Purple or magenta, probably, for you. Maybe chartreuse. You’re already doomed for Christmas.”

Apollo nods numbly.

(He can’t tell Trucy his birthday because doesn’t actually know his real birthday. Dhurke had a range of two months and Datz tossed a knife at the calendar to pick.)

“She sounds like a good child,” Iris says.

“She’s the best.” Phoenix grins, and then he sighs, and his shoulders slump forward. “So. Situation at the Court. Is this about the Jurist System? I was imagining that just like certain people here aren’t happy about letting average citizens make judgments, some of you might not be, either.”

Iris nods. “Sharp as ever, Feenie.”

Apollo chokes on air.

Feenie?

The glare that Phoenix turns on him could split rock.

Phoenix’s statement catches up to him a moment later. “Wait — why would the — the Fair Folk care about what we’re doing with our courts here?” Apollo asks.

Then he waits to be shut out again, like always.

“We find it a fair, neutral ground to resolve our disagreements,” Iris says. “It is an agreement we hold dear to prevent unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Was it ever a formally written agreement?” Phoenix asks. “Mia never said when she told me all that, but I can’t imagine you would all adhere to something without explicit terms.”

“You lawyers are much the same in that regard,” Iris says.

“Ain’t that the old joke,” Phoenix mutters. Leaning against the bookshelf, he doesn’t look at ease, eyes pale darting between Iris at the piano and Apollo standing lost alone in the center of the room by the couch, but he speaks with a sort of casualness that Apollo hasn’t heard from him. “So since the way we’re conducting our trials is changing, hopefully, the Court will have to change — and that’s, well…” He shrugs. “They don’t like change, much.”

“That was my mother’s folly,” Iris says softly. “And the former Queen Mystic, perhaps that she loved it too much. But yes.” She raises her head and reaches into one of her billowing sleeves, producing from it a scroll. “We wrote an agreement, and that is what the Mystics wished you to review.” She drops one end and the page unfurls to the floor and rolls across it.

“I don’t know how to read,” Phoenix deadpans.

Apollo cannot pretend his laugh is anything but a laugh.

Iris frowns and snaps her wrist and the scroll bounces up like a yo-yo into her hand. “I do not at this time know there is any clause in this stating that we need a verdict in your courts to be rendered by a lone judge and not a jury — and if there is, the Mystics will change it — but you as our go-between should stand as part of our process.”

Phoenix breathes in deeply, pulling up his shoulders and closing his eyes. “There’s not even a clause that says the judge presiding has to be human — just that verdict is rendered in a human court. You probably won’t have to change any wording; just minds.” He opens his eyes. “I need to clear off my desk, first. It was a damn shitshow.”

Apollo opens his mouth to mention that, but Phoenix has already ducked into the next room. He waits, unsure of where he belongs, as Iris drifts into the doorway; and then Phoenix reappears, his features contracted in confusion. “My desk — yesterday — did someone…?” He gestures between Apollo and Iris in a vain search for words.

“Oh,” Apollo says. “Yeah. I didn’t have anything else to do this morning.”

Phoenix blinks, again. If he had nothing else to do, he probably still would have done anything else. “Oh. Well, thank you.”

He disappears again, Iris trailing after him, just barely brushing the door with her hand and leaving it in its half-closed state. Apollo stands rooted in the center of the room, swallowed halfway up by the cold.

He… thanked me?

Apollo’s phone chimes with a text from Trucy. He sends back a scolding, knowing it will only encourage her slacking further, and then sinks into the couch. He has no place in the politics of the Court, wants no place in it, not like Phoenix — what did he always say? Young and too stupid to know better. Apollo wants to know better. Apollo doesn’t want to step any further into this.

Feenie.

He and Iris weren’t in a relationship, were they? Is that what Phoenix meant? Is that how this began, this part of his life?

Personal involvement with the fae seems like a good way to fall down that rabbit hole. Avoid that, Apollo thinks, and he finds that he has written those two words, avoid that, on the yellow legal pad left sitting on the coffee table. Avoid that. Right. Like he can do that, with his phone buzzing with another message from Trucy and weighted with another message he hasn’t sent.

Maybe better not to overthink it.

Hey How are you doing How’s it going How’re things How’re you doing Sorry about your brother Heard about the band. sorry

“Polly! I need to get you stuff for the weather!” Trucy, with some difficulty, pulls off her scarf — royal blue, and a little lumpy and holey, like it was an earlier prototype — and throws it at him. “It gets cold in here!”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He has spent the afternoon huddled into the couch, hoping for reprieve that eventually came; maybe it got a little warmer in this part of the office, or maybe he went numb. Remembering what Phoenix said about getting knitwear for presents, he buries his face in Trucy’s scarf anyway. He can’t feel his nose. “Warm.”

She throws herself onto the couch across from him. “Daddy is still meeting with whoever?” He nods. She frowns. “Is it jury stuff or… stuff?”

The weekend’s adventure lingers in their mind. “Jury stuff, but still with… stuff.”

A few more stuffs deep and they’re not going to know what they’re both talking about, but Trucy seems to realize that as well and drags her algebra textbook out of her bag. She scratches numbers onto a legal pad, mumbling the whole time, while Apollo tries to jog his memory and solve the problems upside-down. It is easy in the quiet to hear when the conversation in the next room draws toward the door and when it creaks open.

“—was warned not to expect anything.” That’s Phoenix, his back toward them, pushing the door open further. He looks over his shoulder and waves at Trucy. “Thought I should ask anyway.”

“But I will ask the Mystics what they know nonetheless.” Iris carries herself with some sort of innate unease, like she thinks — or knows — herself unwelcome here. Apollo hadn’t noticed it at first, but now, hours later, she still stands as if wanting to shrink, arms tight to herself. “If somewhere in their secrets they know something, they have spoken nothing of it to me; but you are right that this is not our family’s parlance. Even my sister, given choice, preferred to deal in names, not souls.”

“Her sole virtue,” Phoenix says bitterly, and Trucy’s eyes widen at the sharpness of it. Apollo has grown used to deadpan and cynical and sarcastic, but all without much bite. Not like this.

Iris bows her head low as in apology. “And this must be your daughter,” she says, raising it and turning her sad eyes toward her and Apollo. Like before, when Phoenix talked about the scarf, something of the mention of Trucy seems to fan apart the thick tense smog.

Trucy sits up straight and squares her shoulders, her biggest grin finding its way into place. “Yes, I’m Trucy!” she chirps. “It’s very nice to meet you!”

“This is Iris,” Phoenix says. “She’s an old friend.”

That sentence is not visibly a lie, but Phoenix’s eyes flicker toward Apollo, doubtlessly recalling earlier, and Apollo would bet there’s a little more to it than that.

“I’ve heard a great deal about you, little firebird,” Iris says. “Your father is very proud, and rightfully so.”

“Oh!” Trucy rubs the back of her head. “Um, thanks! But it’s nothing, nothing really—”

Iris’ eyes snap toward Apollo; she stares him down for two long, silent seconds before her gaze drifts across Trucy and back to Phoenix. He cocks his head slightly and raises a shoulder. It might be a simple stretch, but it might be a nod back into the room behind them, and it might be something else passed between them. Iris raises a hand to her cheek, eyes wide, surprised.

“What are you talking about?” Trucy asks, hands on her hips. She stands up.

“We said exactly zero words, Truce,” Phoenix says lightly. He raises an eyebrow at Iris. Her hand at her mouth, she nods.

“Your father mentioned your brave face in the worst of times,” Iris says. “And your modesty, and your lovely smile. And here you greet me with all of that, and I find he is right in all he said.”

And nowhere is she saying that’s what she was silently communicating, but the barrage of compliments seems to have upset Trucy’s footing enough for her to let it go. “He mentioned you knit,” Iris adds. “I used to, as well, a few lifetimes ago, and I believe I still have some yarn I did not leave behind. I might gift it to you, if you wish.”

Those are fae words, carefully constructed, carefully closed: a gift. “I think I need more.” Trucy taps her chin. “I definitely do. That would be great!”

Iris smiles.

“A few lifetimes ago,” Phoenix echoes, and he snorts. “You’re making me feel old, if college was a few lifetimes ago.”

College. Apollo files that away in the same place he has reluctantly stored the nickname Feenie.

“And your teenage daughter makes you feel — what, exactly? Young?” Iris doesn’t smile with her teeth; everything is closed lips, very slight, delicate, and shy expressions. Everything about her is compact and controlled, as though she wants to be overlooked — everything but her hair, gleaming with fire or autumnal leaves.

“Absolutely.” Phoenix’s face does not twitch. “That is exactly it — wait. Wait wait.” He holds up a hand and Iris jumps. “You’ve had the yarn, not stashed away somewhere here, but you took it back with you?” She nods. They’ve obviously communicated about what the hell he means by these vague location words before. “So… we are going to end up with glamour-enchanted scarves and hats, yes or no?”

“Oh!” Iris scrunches her brows together, deep in thought. “I…” She slowly lifts her hand away from her chin. “I have no idea. Does this mean you don’t want it?”

“I kind of want Trucy to have it even more now,” Phoenix says, also with his hand on his chin, “just to see.”

“It’ll be an experiment!” Trucy says. “Magic fashion!”

“You sound like Ema,” Apollo says.

“Ema would love this, I bet,” Phoenix says. “It’s probably the most harmless version of all the bullshit experiments she talked about wanting to try, years back.”

Iris smiles again and ducks her head. “I am glad I have something to give.” Something solemn is packed in between the words. The corners of Phoenix’s grin fall. “For you, then, little firebird, a gift.” Apollo almost expects her to produce some balls of yarn from within her sleeves, but she instead simply drifts toward the door.

“You’re heading out that way?” Phoenix asks.

“Daddy, you know there’s only one door in this office,” Trucy says. “Unless she wants to go out the window.”

She’s brilliantly, uniquely perceptive, Phoenix has always said, Apollo has come to see as well, but sometimes the obvious flashes right by her like a wisp come and gone.

“I found, preparing for my visit, some cash I never spent all those years ago,” Iris says. “I thought I might get myself some coffee. I rather miss it.”

“Maya still has no idea what to do with a coffee machine, huh.” Phoenix chuckles, shaking his head. In context, knowing what Iris is, Maya can only be another of the fae — and Phoenix laughs at her, with something like fondness. Something that maybe is fondness.

“I would never dare to speak ill of the Mystic,” Iris says.

“That’s exactly all the answer I needed,” Phoenix says, holding up his hands in mock-surrender. He leans back against the wall, and, a moment later, as Iris has almost reached the door, says, “Oh, hey, I don’t even know if you were thinking about there — the place just off the quad, with the name that—”

“The Vine Yard?”

“Yes!” Phoenix snaps his fingers together. “The one we said sounded like a place you should be able to get wine. That closed up years back, I forget what kinda restaurant replaced it. All I remember is Maya and I got kicked out so it could be anything.” He shrugs and his shoulders fold in on themselves. Reminiscing lets a wall down and he seems now to regret it, to take back the words he’s let himself release into the air in front of Trucy and Apollo. “Maybe you weren’t even thinking about that and were just gonna wander into wherever, which I recommend, but—” He shrugs again. “Didn’t want you to go looking for something that’s not there anymore.”

Her hair swings past her eyes when she bows her head in acknowledgement. It looks redder again. “No,” she says. “I would not want to do that, either.” She lays a hand on the door, her long white nails catching the light, and she turns back one last time to glance over Trucy and Apollo. “Take care, all of you — and do take care of your father.” Her eyes twinkle. “He needs it.”

“Hey!”

The door closes behind her and the entire office seems to shudder, settle on its foundations, the blinds rattling in their places and the lights warming in their tone to something less harsh than they were. Apollo exhales and no longer sees his breath. “So,” Trucy says, swiveling in place, bouncing in a way that Apollo always takes to mean trouble. “Who is she, Daddy? Are you—”

“Trucy, darling, sweetheart, light of my life—” Phoenix crosses the office in a few large steps to stand in front of Trucy and lightly clap his palms against her cheeks. “I know how you’re going to finish this sentence, and I know you want to have more than one parent in your life, and I know I want that for you too, but please, in this instance, on this day, take your question and swallow it and lock it away deep in your soul and never think of uttering it in this direction ever again.”

Trucy’s cheeks are ballooned like she has the words stored up and ready to go, but she nods. Phoenix taps her on the face again. “Good.”

She manages silence for less than a second before she blurts, with all the force of something that physically pained her to contain, “So she’s your ex-girlfriend, then?”

Phoenix presses his hands over his face and slumps forward. “Trucy!”

“I want to clarify!” Trucy throws her hands in the air. “So I don’t say more stupid things!”

Phoenix laughs for what feels to be a long time, almost stopping and then looking at Trucy and Apollo and doubling over again wheezing. “No,” he gasps, finally. “I never dated Iris.”

It must be a lie — Apollo can’t believe it’s anything but a lie — but he can’t see that it is.

On Tuesday morning, the cold has slightly abated, Klavier has not responded to his text, and in the middle of the office Apollo finds a box of brightly-colored yarn sitting in the center of a hula hoop. Pink is predominant.

#roddy fanfics #fic: the seelie of kurain #i didn't expect this chapter and this side-stop in the fic to be this long and i know i say that every time #but i NEVER expect anything to have the substance that it does. this being no exception. i thought i could move the plot some more.#and then i hit a decent natural break and thought 'well okay. maybe i call it there'#lying in bed last night i wrote most of chapter 15 in my head but that's......useless.........

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