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accioharry · 5 years

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just stay for a moment & heal with me | brightwell (post 1x10)

dani reunites with malcolm after his kidnapping.

this fic is based off the song All of the Love in the World by Lily Kershaw. I fell in love with it and it's literally brightwell and now I'm emotional!!!

read here on ao3 | word count: 3.2k

Dani woke up to her phone ringing on her nightstand. She grumbled, knowing full well she put her phone on do not disturb before she fell asleep. The moonlight coming in from her window allowed her to see in the darkness as she fumbled for her phone, answering it without even checking the caller ID.

“We got him,” Gil’s voice came through before she could even say anything. “Malcolm…we…we got him.” His voice was full of emotion, as though he couldn’t believe it himself.

She shot up like a light, suddenly fully awake. Her hand shook as she gripped the phone. “What…what? Is he...” she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Where? How?”

“He’s alive, but it’s not looking good Dani,” Gil’s voice cracked. “Just…get here, to the hospital.”

Dani had never obeyed an order so quickly as soon as Gil hung up the phone, presumably calling JT or Edrisa. She nearly fell out of bed, rushing to her dresser to throw on a pair of jeans and an old college T-shirt. Her mind was racing in a thousand different directions. They got him. They got him…They saved him.

It had been six weeks since Malcolm disappeared, taken by the Junkyard Killer. Six weeks of Dani crashing on the couch at the station, of Gil and Jessica fighting, of JT not cracking a single joke. Six weeks of Ainsley bringing coffee for the team on her way to work every morning and Edrisa bringing homemade desserts every other night. Six weeks of exhausting every resource, every lead, every interview, and they always came up with nothing. For six weeks, Dani had never felt so alone.

Malcolm Bright came into her world unexpectedly, crashing into her life like a hurricane. At first, she didn’t know what to make of him. Here was the son of The Surgeon, one of the world’s worst serial killers, brought onto a case without any clarification from her colleagues. Within hours of meeting he was in her arms waking up from the worst nightmare she had ever seen someone go through. She frantically caught him as he held a person’s hand in a cooler after a bomb had gone off in a building. She made sure he stayed alive the night he accidentally got high, admitting to him more about her past than she had ever planned on sharing.

That was the night she started to feel things for Malcolm Bright, but she’d never admit that. The night he told her she could trust him, and the night she decided to let him in.

Then he was gone.

The drive to the hospital was the longest drive of her life. It was raining but Dani didn’t think about running back inside for an umbrella. At 2 am the only thing on her mind was Malcolm. An ambulance passed her apartment complex as she was walking to her car, and her heart stopped. The chances of it being Malcolm were next to nothing as she knew darn well Gil would have a police escort to the hospital, but it still made her pause. It still made her heart drop as the rain fell on her.

The street lights felt like spotlights as she drove. Each one highlighting a different part of her short time with Malcolm Bright. She smiled to herself as she remembered when Malcolm brought her tea, or when he told her that her hands were too cold. She didn’t bring gloves and knew JT would tell her she’d get hypothermia, but she didn’t turn back. Her hands were cold and all she wanted was Malcolm to get the chance to tell her that one more time.

She parked badly but didn’t stick around long enough to check. She followed the sounds of sirens to the back of the hospital, to the ambulance entrance. She recognized Gil helping Jessica and Ainsley out of a police car, no doubt he sent an officer to pick them up.

“Gil!” She called, running to catch up to them. She was out of breath by the time she reached them, Jessica putting her arms out to steady her. In the past six weeks, Jessica and Ainsley Whitly had become something of a family to her, another part of Malcolm’s life she never thought would intertwine with her own.

“Dani, where’s your umbrella?” Ainsley asked. Dani shook her head.

“Where is he?” She asked as they walked into the ER. There were cops everywhere.

“They flew him in about a half-hour ago, he’s in surgery,” Gil explained. A helicopter meant things were serious…it meant Malcolm didn’t have a lot of time left.

“Where was he? What happened?” Dani knew she was still shaking, but she wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the cold.

Gil pulled her and Ainsley aside as Jessica spoke to doctors across the room. “I need to prepare Jessica and Ainsley for this, but I meant what I said on the phone, it’s not good.” He gestured for Ainsley to step aside. She refused.

“Gil,” she protested. If Dani had learned anything about the Whitly family in the past six weeks, they all were extremely stubborn and resilient. Asking Ainsley to walk away would be asking Malcolm to walk away from a homicide case. It wouldn’t happen.

Gil stared at the two for a moment before nodding. “We found him about two hours north of here, in the middle of nowhere in a cabin. Watson was shot on scene after he attempted to shoot at officers. Malcolm was in the basement.”

“What was his condition?” Ainsley asked.

“He…he was barely conscious. I got to him first and he was dehydrated, starved, and badly injured. There was…a lot of blood. He was holding on for us, and when they prepared to take him to the hospital...” he trailed off.

“He what?” Dani asked. When Gil didn’t answer she raised her voice and asked again, “What happened?”

Nothing could have prepared her for when Gil said the words, “His heart stopped.”

Suddenly, Ainsley had dropped into the chair behind her. Dani was frozen, stuck standing in what felt like hell. This had to be hell because what could be worse than this? She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt a teardrop.

“No,” she mumbled. “He didn’t die, he’s…he’s in surgery. He’s going to be fine, right? Gil, please tell me he’s going to be fine.”

“Dani, I can’t promise anything…you know that.”

“I should’ve been there!” She argued. “I should’ve been with him! Why didn’t you take me with you? Why’d you send me home tonight?”

“It was a long shot, Dani, you’re too close to this. The FBI said they didn’t want any of us there, I fought tooth and nail just to override that for myself. I did my best, but I knew it was better to not disappoint you again in case we came home empty-handed.”

“But you didn’t come home empty-handed,” her voice broke. “Gil…I can’t…” she sobbed, feeling Ainsley’s arm pulling her down into the chair next to her.

“Dani,” she started. “He’s going to be fine, he held on for us, remember that. He held out until we got him, now we have to hold on for him.”

Dani nodded, looking up when she heard footsteps entering the room. JT and his wife came in, both looking frantic and confused. Both were speaking to Gil in hushed tones, probably not to alert Jessica. Dani knew Gil would tell her in a few minutes, but wanted to spare her the pain for as long as possible. JT came to her, pulling her into his arms, and Dani let herself cry.

Malcolm was in surgery for eight hours. Gil broke the news to Jessica about Malcolm’s heart stopping, and Dani feared she’ll never forget the sound of Jessica Whitly’s heart shattering. Gil and JT did their best to comfort her, reminding her that Malcolm was still alive, just as Ainsley had to remind Dani. Regardless, his heart had stopped. They got there in time, but was it enough?

Dani paced the halls of the ER for the first few hours until Edrisa showed up around 4 am. She took one look at Dani and shuffled her and Ainsley out the door to the nearest 24 hour Starbucks down the street. Together the three of them sat and watched the sunrise, as the city woke up and began their day. Cars honking, people running in for coffee before work, even doctors from the hospital coming between their shifts.

“How can the world still be going?” Ainsley had asked at one point, her eyes not leaving her coffee cup. “How are they so oblivious to what’s happening?” Her voice was so quiet, it reminded Dani that even though she was hurting, Ainsley was hurting more. She was still Malcolm's baby sister, the one who saw his night terrors first hand and slept on the floor of his room when they were children. Dani didn’t say anything, but Edrisa reached over and took Ainsley’s hand.

They got back to the hospital around 7 am, not even realizing they had spent the past three hours in a coffee shop. Dani felt guilty but also knew the fresh air was good for her. They had brought back breakfast for everyone else, even though Ainsley had begged Jessica to go with them, knowing it was no use. The ER was different, a shift change meant new nurses and new doctors, new families waiting for their loved ones. A doctor had come out at one point, briefing Jessica and Gil about something Dani didn’t understand. Something to do with his brain activity and that was all she needed to force herself not to listen anymore.

Malcolm was out of surgery at 10 am.

By some miracle, his heart kept beating. The next 12 hours were critical for his brain, but things were looking positive. A doctor had the group moved into a private waiting area in the hospital as Malcolm was taken to be admitted to the ICU. He had a punctured lung, a few broken ribs, and had wounds on his abdomen causing him to bleed out, most likely from a knife of some sort. His lack of oxygen and his heart working to make up for the lost blood is what put him in the cardiac arrest.

Right now, Malcolm needed blood and a lot of it. The critical part was until Malcolm woke up, there was no way to tell how much damage was done to his brain during his arrest.

Dani refused to go home and change, let alone leave the waiting room. Jessica, Ainsley, and Gil went into the ICU first, not wanting to overwhelm Malcolm or the nurses. The doctors were slowly taking him off the sedation medication, but the time it would take him to fully wake up would at least be a few days. Regardless,

Dani knew she was here for the long haul, regardless of the circumstances.

Ainsley came back around thirty minutes after she had gone into the ICU. Her eyes were red and her face was stained with tears. Her normally curled blonde hair was falling out of the messy bun she had it in when she arrived, and Malcolm’s old college sweatshirt looked as though she had been chewing on the sleeves from her nerves. She sat down in the chair next to Dani, tucking her feet under her.

“How is he?” JT asked after a moment of silence. Ainsley took a deep breath, fiddling with the sleeves of Malcolm’s sweatshirt.

“He’s on a lot of morphine,” she started. “The nurse said he could potentially hear us talking to him, but he wasn’t reacting to anything Mom or Gil were saying,” she wiped tears from her eyes. “They aren’t giving him any more sedation medication, so he could start waking up in a few hours or as long as a week.”

“How are his injuries?” Edrisa asked, sipping her coffee.

“It’s hard to tell. The doctors decided he didn’t need to be on a ventilator because he never crashed during surgery and his heart rate was able to maintain normal levels once they started the blood transfusion. The nurse who changed his bandage on his stomach said it looked better already compared to when he came in, but he isn’t out of the woods yet. Not until we know his brain function.”

“Go see him, Dani,” JT said. Dani shook her head.

“Family only,” she muttered, nodding to Ainsley. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“Gil pulled strings. We all can’t go in together until he’s out of ICU, but I can sneak you in Dani.” Ainsley stood up. “He’ll want to hear your voice.”

Dani had never been in an ICU. It was a small unit with nurses at every turn. Code blue machines were parked in the hall, ready to go at a moment’s notice. Dani noticed one was outside Malcolm's room as they went in. Gil and Jessica had stepped out of the room when she and Ainsley arrived.

Dani covered her mouth with her hand to hold in her cries when she saw Malcolm. He looked so vulnerable, so broken lying in that hospital bed. He was connected to too many machines to count, one for his oxygen, one for his heart, and one for monitoring his brain function. Ainsley nudged her so she’d walk into the room.

“He might hear you if you talk to him,” she muttered, before stepping out herself.

Tentatively, Dani walked towards the bed. If you took away all the machines, Malcolm just looked as though he was sleeping. He had a bandage on his forehead, one on his chin, and Dani knew the rest were under his hospital gown. The only sounds in the room were the machines, and Dani was so grateful to hear the heart machine. It meant he was here, that he was alive.

He was home.

She moved to walk around the bed, but her hand brushed his. She pulled back…he was so cold.

“Your…your hands are cold,” she said, forcing her voice not to break. She stared at him for a moment waiting for him to blink, to smile, to laugh, even though she knew he still had the sedation medication in his system. Gently, Dani put his hand in her own, careful not to pull on his IV. She tucked it under the blanket. The nurses would have to access his IV for medication, but for now, Dani wanted him to be warm. He needed to be warm.

Malcolm woke up three days later.

Even though she wanted it to, life didn’t stop. Dani was needed at the station and was grateful Gil had placed her and JT on desk duty while Malcolm was in the hospital. It wasn’t safe for them to be in the field when their minds were somewhere else.

Dani had gotten into a routine of going to the hospital after work, meaning that during the day she was going stir crazy sorting through case files that needed to be digitalized. On day three, she had enough. She told Gil she was taking a sick day, and he had smiled at her knowingly, gesturing his head in the direction of the hospital.

Dani stopped at home to grab another book and a coffee. It felt like a lifetime ago when she and Malcolm had gotten into the topic of reading and Malcolm had a list of book recommendations at the tip of his tongue. Most were about serial killers, not surprisingly, but Dani had taken note anyways. She didn’t look at the list while he was gone, but now had a small pile of books on Malcolm’s hospital nightstand that she had read. When everyone stepped out to speak with doctors, Dani even read out loud to him.

She wasn’t expecting Ainsley to run at her when she entered the ICU. Dani panicked, what happened? What went wrong?

“He’s awake!”

It took Dani a moment to process what Ainsley said. “What…what?”

“Apparently it happened last night. My mom didn’t call me because she wanted me to sleep, but I found out when I got here this morning. He’s been responding to us most of the day, but sometimes he struggles, especially because his body has been through so much. They’re going to sedate him so he can sleep without night terrors tonight because they don’t want him to hurt himself.” Ainsley let out a huge breath, having said all of that without pausing.

“But…” Dani shook her head. “His brain? It’s fine?”

“It looks like it, physically anyways,” Ainsley’s voice softened. “He isn’t talking about anything he’s been through; he just stops talking if we come close to mentioning it. Even if I tell him about things that have happened while he was…missing…he stops.” She shrugged, crossing her arms. “It’s more than I expected to be honest,” she looked back at his hospital room. “He’s been asking for you. I’m going to call my mom,” she patted Dani on the shoulder on her way out of the ICU.

It took Dani longer than she’d like to admit to getting her legs moving towards Malcolm’s room. Once she had processed everything Ainsley had said, she nearly sprinted to his room at the end of the hall.

Malcolm was watching something on the television, the curtains of his room pulled back to let the light in. He was sitting up in bed and once he heard her, his eyes turned to Dani. As soon as their eyes met, Dani knew she was going to cry again. She rushed to his bedside.

“Hey,” she smiled softly, not wanting to overwhelm him. God, she missed those blue eyes. She gently sat herself in the chair next to his bed, fully prepared for

Malcolm to ignore her when he turned back to the TV.

“You said my hands were cold,” he whispered. Dani wasn’t sure if it was the mental or physical trauma that made him speak so quietly.

She wiped her tears with her sleeve. “You heard me,” she murmured.

He nodded. “You read to me…it was nice.” She moved to cover his hand with her own. He wasn’t cold anymore.

His eyes found her own. “Thank you for finding me.” It was the first time he acknowledged the past six weeks.

“That was all Gil…I wasn’t there,” Dani felt the guilt build in her stomach. She bit her lip to stop herself from breaking down in front of him.

“You were,” he murmured, a tear falling down his face. “You were always with me.” He had visibly relaxed since she had entered the room, and his hand that was in hers held on tight, as though he was afraid she’d let go. She didn’t.

He was silent for a while and Dani assumed he had fallen asleep. She muted the TV and with one hand, awkwardly reached in her bag for the book she brought. She looked up to see that Malcolm’s eyes had met her own once more.

“Can you read it out loud?” He asked.

Dani nodded, reaching with her arm to brush the hair out of his face. “Yeah, I can.”

Malcolm smiled softly and drifted off to sleep. Thirty minutes later, that’s how Jessica and Gil found them: Malcolm with his hand in Dani’s, her head in his lap, with the book half opened, both sleeping soundly.

#my fics #lol hi i wrote a thing #prodigal son #malcolm x dani #malcolm bright #dani powell #otp: the one i like talking to #brightwell fic #prodigal son fic #one shot #malcolm bright fic #prodigal son fox

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prodigalsonheadcanons · 5 years

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Since the weather is cooling down and Malcolm likely spends the holiday season sick, could you write a fic where Malcolm has pneumonia?

Would you believe I have a test on the care of the pneumonia patient in two days? …You think this counts as studying?

Malcolm usually wasn’t the picture of health. And that was proposing the fact in the lightest terms possible. He always looked like he’d gotten about two hours of sleep, which…was probably the correct number, in actuality. He hardly ever ate, and his hands were riddled with tremors. So at first, when he showed up to the scene, pale and shaky and expression slightly pinched, Gil didn’t think too much about it. He was concerned, of course, but not more concerned than he usually was. It wasn’t enough to actually say anything— he knew how Malcolm tended to become bitter and defensive the second anyone began to fuss over him. He had to pick and choose his battles.

But the longer he looked at him, the more he noticed. And the more worried he became.

“They had to be what?” JT asked impatiently.

Malcolm was studying the body with an obscene amount of thought. Or, that’s what Gil took it for initially. It was only after he started to speak, did Gil turn and look closer. His voice was thin. He noticed that he was swaying slightly, back and forth…and he was only looking at the victim so hard because he was fighting to keep himself balanced. “A friend,” he repeated himself a little louder, his voice cracking on the word. He grimaced and drew in a slow breath. A couple times it stuttered, like he couldn’t get it down without coughing. “He had to have…known them.” His voice was hoarse. Gil was frowning, now. “We should…look at his inner circle,” he managed to get out.

Dani and JT eyed him at first, but they were used to ignoring his antics, by now. “We got his ID— it’s a good first step,” Dani relented. JT nodded. Malcolm didn’t react at all to her approving his suggestion; usually, he at least cracked a smile when he was proven useful. But his expression stayed blank as he stared at the ground. Gil’s eyes narrowed as he saw him take a sudden step to the side— he had to stumble, to catch himself. He ended up getting closer to him in the process, and when he did, he was close enough for Gil to hear his breathing. Or more specifically, hear his wheezing.

Every breath of his was thin and rasping. He heard the air scrape painfully down his throat, and he could see that when he did breathe in, pain sparked in the far back of his expression. He was trying to hide the fact that something was wrong, and he’d done a fairly decent job of it, so far. But the longer he stood there and had to speak, the worse it was. And it was a much taller order for Malcolm in general, when it came to keeping something from Gil. The kid liked to think he was a closed book, and sometimes he was. But, nine times out of ten, he knew the pages too well.

Gil cleared his throat, taking a couple steps forward as he looked to Dani, instead. “You handle that.” The way he said this, and the way he looked at her, was communication enough. Her eyes flickered to Malcolm who was still oblivious, and she nodded once. She turned and started away; JT was all too willing to follow. Gil hesitated before he steeled himself – braced himself for what he knew would come – and turned back to Malcolm. “Alright. C’mon.”

Malcolm roused, looking at him with confusion. “Are we…?” Pain blossomed on his face when he spoke, but he still made himself. Inside, Gil was cursing his stupid sense of stubbornness. Though he’d never openly admit it and he’d probably be appalled if Gil ever actually pointed it out to him, he was every bit as stubborn as his mother was. “Where are we going?” He hardly even understood the question, his voice was so raw and quiet.

Gil gave him a look, and returned a flat: “Home.”

Immediately, he was scowling. He looked offended, like Gil had insulted his outfit. “Wha— I’m not going home,” he objected, in yet another crack. Gil gave him a look that asked a very unimpressed: ‘Really?’ Which he was sure Malcolm was all too familiar with. If he had a dollar for every time Gil had given him this exact look he probably could have retired about five years ago. If he had a quarter for every time he’d given him that look, he’d at least be able to pay for all the ibuprofen he’d taken over all these years. Still, Malcolm tried. “I’m not going home, Gil— I have a job to do.”

“You look like you’re gonna pass out,” he sighed. He grabbed his shoulder, starting to herd him towards the car. He knew better than to grab his wrist and pull. This way, he at least complied to move his feet. The second Gil touched him, his resolution was cementing. He could already feel how hot he was. “You’ve got a fever, Bright— I’m taking you home. You need rest.”

He tried to shrug him off. “I don’t need rest!” he started to object. “I need to—!” His words were stopped in their tracks, when he suddenly choked, and started to cough. It was violent and hacking— he ducked his head into his elbow and spluttered, barely able to get enough air in the gasps between, to get it out. Gil stopped short, surprised at the sudden severity. Malcolm’s right leg nearly buckled and sent him falling. It was only thanks to Gil wrapping his arms around him and holding him up, that he didn’t collapse. This time, Malcolm took the help gratefully. By the time he got through the fit, Gil’s face was strained with an equal amount of worry and exasperation.

“Come on,” he repeated. This time, Malcolm was silent. He was even paler and shakier than he was before. He gave up trying to fight; he was leaning heavier onto Gil as he helped him to the car. When he saw the amount of misery and pain on his face, now that he wasn’t trying to hide it, Gil found himself softening. He hated himself for it. He wished he could just lecture him, and tell him how ridiculous he was, the way he wanted to. But with him looking like this, he couldn’t bring himself to. He was almost mad— he was certain that Malcolm knew his soft spot, and that he was doing this on purpose.

He opened the passenger side for him, and Malcolm practically collapsed into the seat. He sagged back into the leather and when Gil shut the door, he immediately leaned to rest against it. The older man sighed again and shook his head in exasperation. Malcolm looked absolutely horrible— what in the world was he thinking, coming to out here? And how had he thought that he wouldn’t notice? Now he had to take him home. Not that it was that big of a deal. They could handle the case without him. He wouldn’t lose sleep over it.

He would lose sleep if Malcolm refused to give himself care when he desperately needed it, though.

He took him to the nearest Urgent Care, first. Just in case. Thankfully, there weren’t a lot of people there. Malcolm tried to object a couple times, and grumble about how this was ridiculous and he was fine, but Gil would always ignore him, and his throat eventually got too sore from coughing to keep trying. They were seen by a nurse practitioner and the diagnosis didn’t take long at all. It wasn’t surprising at all, either: pneumonia. Of course, Malcolm got pneumonia. Gil tried not to shoot him too pointed a look. But Malcolm was looking anywhere but him at that point, anyway, so it didn’t really matter.

They were given a prescription for antibiotics and told to take them until the bottle was empty. By the time they were through, Malcolm was even more run-down and exhausted than he’d been before, which was saying something. Gil had to help him up to his feet and steady him, when he stumbled. Malcolm’s head was hung when they went back to the car, and again, when Gil shut his door, he immediately slouched to rest his head against the window. When he rounded the car to get back behind the wheel, he could hear him coughing.

The entire drive to his apartment, Malcolm said nothing. A little over halfway there, Gil shot a quick glance at him, and realized with a start that his eyes were already closed. He thought about trying to see whether or not he was awake, but he forced himself not to, just in case he actually was. He didn’t want to risk waking him up. He made a point to dive more carefully— he was sure to avoid as many bumps and potholes as he could, so he wouldn’t disturb him.

He pulled up to the building and shut the car off. For a heartbeat, he considered just sitting in here with him, so he wouldn’t have to get him up. But by now, Malcolm was scrunched up awkwardly in the seat, pressed against the door. It didn’t look comfortable at all. He got out and walked around, tapping gently and regretfully on the glass. Sure enough, Malcolm roused slowly. The look on his face was confused and disoriented. He still looked half-asleep. He was swaying, a little. But at least he was off the door.

Gil opened it and reached for his arm. “C’mon…let’s get you inside.” His voice was gentler than it usually was. Malcolm followed, unsteady on his feet. Gil made sure he walked slow enough for him. Getting up the steps was difficult. They had to stop frequently, whenever Malcolm started coughing again. By the time they got up to the landing, he was practically dead on his feet, and every single breath was shallow and wheezing. It was hurting Gil’s lungs just to hear him breathe.

He guided him to his room. Sunshine starting singing louder when she saw them, her wings fluttering excitedly. He felt a little bad when they walked right past her. But Gil had to get Malcolm off his feet— by now, he was practically carrying him. He got to his bed and gingerly started to set him down. “There you go…lay down.” Malcolm fell back onto the mattress, sinking into his pillow with a worn, rasping sigh. His eyes were fast to slide closed again.

Once he laid down, Malcolm was curling up into a ball. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but he was shivering. Gil weakened with pity that only got worse when he realized that his teeth were beginning to chatter. He felt his forehead; he was burning up. He looked at him dismally, his chest aching when Malcolm started to cough again, much too weakly to actually get anything out. He flinched from the pain it inflicted, and he shivered again, a small whimper dying in the back of his throat. He hurt so much, he wasn’t even attempting to hide it anymore.

Gil weakened. Gently, he let his hand thread through his hair, smoothing it back the way he usually had it. When Malcolm didn’t swat him off, he found himself repeating the gesture. He kept doing it until most of it looked the way it was supposed to again, the entire time acutely aware of how hot and sweaty he was. Malcolm didn’t open his eyes, but when he felt him pull through his hair, he took in a slower, deeper breath. His grimace melted away and he relaxed a little bit more. His teeth stopped chattering as much.

Gil couldn’t help but smile. It was small, and a little bit pained. He wanted to smack him over the head for not thinking— for likely ignoring how sick he was until he got to this point, unable to even stand upright by himself for more than seven minutes. He wanted to snap that he was the stupidest person he knew. That he was the bane of his entire existence, and that he was giving him even more gray hairs on top of the ones he’d already given him. But…seeing him like this, and seeing him relax, there was nothing but exhausted affection in his voice when he murmured: “What am I gonna do with you, kid?”

Malcolm didn’t answer. His breathing was just a little deeper. He was asleep.

Gil let out a sigh. He tucked the blanket up to his chin and made sure his head was situated comfortably on his pillow. As he did, he was making plans. He’d stay until he woke up. He’d ignore the indignant, embarrassed yelling Malcolm would probably start spouting, in between episodes of hacking. He’d wait for him to calm down, and then he’d check his temperature. He’d find all the medication he had in his house and pool it together – cough drops, sore throat spray, Tylenol – and he’d pick up his prescription for him so he wouldn’t have to worry about it. He’d make him tea to help his throat, and his cough. He’d make sure he had everything he needed. That he would actually use his head and rest until he felt better.

He’d make sure he was okay.

Then, he’d go home. He’d leave him alone, after all that.

…Is what he told himself at first.

The bed he ended up making for himself on the couch later that night ended up proving him wrong.

#This was purely just to make myself feel better about the fact I'm writing instead of studying I need to study dkjsiusdas #Prodigal Son #Malcolm Bright #Gil Arroyo #Tiny fic #Why do I write tiny fic these are always like the NORMAL LENGTH OF FICS I'm just excessive #Thank you for the request!!! I love writing worried dads taking care of their idiot sons uwu

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idealistsinc · 4 years

Text

04 // clinch

wc: 2,097 content warning: abuse, suicidal ideation

The study door was locked that day.

There were once times when Father never barred that door. By his word alone he kept his wayward sons out of his possessions, his authority a fortress more impenetrable than any ordinary lock and key; to enter the study without Father’s express permission was a transgression akin to desecrating some holy grounds of old Gelmorra, if the pricelessness of the artefacts Father housed there was to be believed. But he had done away with those days of unlocked doors, explicit trust, his status as his father’s unseen-unheard right-hand man.

Rin drew a shaking breath. “Father?” he said.

A silence. Eventually, Senan’s voice wafted from within. Rin imagined him immured at his desk among dusty tomes and crumbling papers, nursing a cup of tea. “I am working, Rin.”

“It’s important.” Please.

Rin could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his heart beating a cannonade in his chest. He forced himself to calm. Finally, a book slammed shut. Footsteps padded softly from the desk to the door, and it swung open to reveal his father, brow furrowed, nursing not tea but an after-dinner cognac that, judging from the scent that lingered about his clothes, had actually been more than one. Behind him, documents flooded his behemoth of a mahogany desk. Although Senan’s manner was as cold and restrained as it ever was, the subtle pull of his mouth indicated his impatience; Rin knew he expected an explanation for the interruption at once. He did not waste any time.

“My sister Luma—Isha’a found her. She’s in Limsa Lominsa.”

But his soul sang, She’s alive.

He had been called into Mr. Kawaguchi’s office at midday. Isha’a’s former Doman teacher, the Roegadyn ferried Isha’a’s messages where he could, as Senan would not allow him to speak to his brother since the incident; this day, he had handed Rin Isha’a’s letter and then, unusually, left the room to preserve Rin’s privacy. It was a moment of astonishing foresight in retrospect. Rin had only gotten as far as the first line before, rocked by the tidal wave of feeling he’d stymied since the day his sister was taken from her family at the tender age of fifteen, he had started to cry.

Rin had no expectations as to how Senan would react to the news. Senan had never met his half-sister, and he did not generally think well of their mother’s side of the family. But what he wasn’t expecting was for Senan to say, in a tone like a droning lecturer, “Our arrangement was that you were not to contact your brother.”

“I—” Shock lamed his voice. “I don’t see how that’s relevant. He had to contact me. Father, I have to go see her.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” said Senan. There must have been something horrid in Rin’s expression to match the roiling storm in his gut, because Senan softened. “I understand you’re relieved that she’s well. So am I. But your marks have yet to recover from last term’s failures. You’ve not the time to travel.”

Isha’a had said once, before he realized his complaints fell on his brother’s deaf ears, that arguing with Senan was like trying to argue with the Twelveswood’s elementals. Rin hadn’t understood what he meant, then—in fact had taken such violent offense to the comparison that Isha’a had never dared to mention it a second time—but he did now, with the dizzying sense that he was staring up into the distant canopy of those warped and ancient trees, and no matter how loudly he spoke or how much he prayed, the deity with aegis over his life would never hear.

“But—but she’s my sister.”

Rin never argued with Senan. An imperiousness crept into Father’s bearing. “You stole from me, you’ll remember. You betrayed my trust. Travel is a privilege; I thought we agreed that you do not currently possess that privilege. I’m sorry.”

Senan began to close the door. Father had spoken, and it would be done, and it didn’t matter that it was his sister, it was Luma—Luma who took him aside and showed him the shapes and colors of the forest, Luma who danced like she would die if she didn’t, Luma who loved him in violet—and before Rin knew what he was doing he had jammed his foot in the doorframe and followed Senan into the study, something hot and sick and brittle crawling up his throat.

“Privilege?” said Rin, in a voice he barely recognized as his own. “Father, I thought—I thought she was dead. And you’ll not allow me to see her, on account of a bloody emerald and an orchestrion roll—”

“You’re acting like a child, Rin. It’s a punishment.” He scolded him like an errant toddler; though there was beginning to be a hint of irritation in his voice, Rin noticed his father’s tail didn’t so much as twitch. He’s still in control, Rin thought. When he shouted at Isha’a, he was always— “Do not whine as though I am being unfair; you agreed to my terms.”

“Perhaps if the punishment was at all proportionate to the crime—”

“You had the opportunity to make your appeals. The matter is closed.”

Somewhere else, Rin was thinking, Was Senan in control then? When he had screamed in his face about the emerald, threatening to cut him off, threatening to pursue legal action against him, threatening to send Rin an itemized bill of every gil Senan had ever spent on his upkeep until Rin was a sobbing puddle on that plush Thavnairian carpet, had he even been angry? Or had he simply used his anger the way he used everything else—as a tool to get what he wanted?

“If you are truly repentant, tell me how you should be punished.”

“Please, Father—”

“Tell me. Tell me right now, or you will not be welcomed back in this house.”

“Appeals!? This isn’t a courtroom, Father! She’s my fucking sister!”

The study rang. Somewhere else, Rin looked upon himself as though he were a stranger—the flush of his face, his panting breath, anger a heat that boiled the blood in his veins, and knew with the cynicism of experience that none of it mattered. This game they played, the dance he’d danced for a decade to earn his father’s acknowledgment—none of it would have ever made any difference.

What Isha’a had learned long before he did: that anger simply didn’t work.

“If you are going to speak to me that way,” said Senan, low, “we have naught to discuss. You are dismissed.”

And yet…And yet Father was still a person.

“Wouldn’t you have dropped everything to see grandmother again?”

Senan had told him the story once and only once in a tenuous string of intimacy, on a day Rin had cried for Luma’s loss when he was yet a little child, home- and heartsick for the life he had left: a long time ago, Senan’s mother had vanished upon visiting family in Gyr Abania, walled off from Eorzea and almost certainly killed in Garlemald’s lust for conquest. Rin knew he should not have mentioned it, and knew it better when Senan suddenly grabbed him about the shoulders as though to shake him, his countenance a twisted ruin of something Rin had never seen before on his father’s face: grief.

And then just as abruptly Senan released him, the mask once more in place, emotions contained. Rin recognized it, because he had done it himself as often as there were grains of sand on Hydaelyn.

Gods, I am really…

“No,” said Senan, finally, like a glacial wind. “That woman abandoned her family for the sake of a few xenophobic and ignorant tribespeople who would have just as soon eaten their own shite as bring themselves out of their squalor—as your brother has done. I would not mourn for such people.”

Rin understood, then, why he was not permitted to leave.

When he was very young, Mama used to tell him and Isha’a the story of their birth. The labor pains had come upon her, she said, and she’d barely had the time to so much as rest her back against a withered pear tree before they were out of her, first one and then the other. “How you shrieked!” she had laughed, ruffling their hair. “Nobody could hold just one of you; it had to be both, or you would just cry and cry and cry.”

His brother. His twin. Senan feared Rin would follow in his brother’s footsteps—and he was right to, because even after years of distance, after years of Rin doing his damndest to make Isha’a hate him, Isha’a had been there when the scaffolding collapsed underneath him. Isha’a had held him like when they were children and still shared half a name, and he had told him, with all the patience Rin didn’t deserve, “Senan is hurting you.”

What Rin thought Isha’a had meant to say, now: “He had hurt me, too.”

Had Isha’a felt like this? When he fought with Father, had Isha’a wanted to shout his voice hoarse? Had he wanted to knock all the Gelmorran artefacts from the etagere just to get Father to say something, to show something other than that indomitable mask? Maybe it had been like that for him, too, the crushing pressure in his chest in front of an examination he knew he’d fail, long hours spun out staring at the ceiling, vomiting dinners into wastepaper baskets and the miserable daydreams of throwing himself off the bell tower just to get it all to stop—

And it was that last thought, that thought and the sudden accompanying horror that perhaps Isha’a had felt that way, had stared down that same dim hallway and made the only choice he could live with, that made Rin say, from the depths of a well of bitterness so deep and so dark it would have taken him ten years to plumb to the bottom, “My brother wouldn’t have left at all if you had been a better father—”

Senan slapped him hard across the face.

His head filled with static. Rin staggered, more from surprise than pain, and saw Senan stagger, too—saw the flush of rage in his cheeks drain white, saw his lashing tail still, saw something terrible come into his eyes as he realized just what it was he had done. It was the most feeling, he thought, he had ever seen from Senan in his entire life.

“Rin,” said Senan, after a silence that might have spanned a year and in a voice that did not sound like Senan at all. “Rin, son, I—”

They stared at each other as if across a great divide. Rin brought his hand to his face.

He felt—he—

He could not rationalize this away. So Rin did what he had always done: he pushed it, pushed it all down, down, down into that rusted old lockbox at the bottom of the well. A distant part of his mind was astounded at how easy it was for him to feel absolutely nothing about this development, as though Senan hitting him was simply another characteristic of their relationship to one another, as though this transpired every day (because that’s what Father had taught him to do—)

Rin straightened. Then he said, very evenly and as though nothing at all had happened, “I’m going to see my sister in Costa del Sol. I’ll need gil for an airship ticket.”

Senan didn’t respond.

“Father, I said—”

“I heard you.”

There was another beat of hesitation. Finally, Senan moved to his desk for the gil he kept in the left-hand drawer. He moved very oddly—in a shuffle, like an old man with too many moons weighing down on his shoulders. Somewhere very far away, someone was screaming in a high, sustained note. Senan handed Rin the pouch, too full for Rin’s purposes, and said again, “Rin—”

Rin left the room. As far as the stairs, he walked with all the dignity he could muster, back straight chin up ears alert, until at once some critical faultline cracked within him and he ran, sprinting out the doors and gulping in the balmy sunlight of summer’s last gasp, clutching the gil and saying to himself, Luma, Luma, Luma. He had it. He had gotten what he came for. But the sun seemed a cold and distant thing, just then. And as he looked about him, the whole world was as a stranger.

Though he didn’t know it yet, Rin would never return to his father’s study again.

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv #ffxiv rin weise #my writing #well this is a thing that i wrote #poor baby ;u;#not totally happy with it but que sera sera

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annewithagee · 6 years

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Know Love When You See It (2)

“I can’t do this, Gil. I can’t open this door. What it it’s too late? What if we came all this way only to find it was all for naught, because she… she…“ A story in which Gilbert’s health remains perfectly fine, but that’s not enough to bring Anne peace. Alternate ending to AotI. Shirbert.

fanfiction.net / AO3

Chapter 2 Enters Gilbert

The smile died on her lips as soon as she had read the first lines.

“Dearest Anne...”

It could not be true.

“I wish I could start this letter from a reassurance...”

It could not.

“I wish I could say: don’t be alarmed by the unusual date of its arrival – for I very much hope you have received it early – or by the hurry behind such a change. Alas, I cannot. The news is as urgent as it is serious, so even though there is no reason to panic just yet, I must ask you to regard the matter as such.”

“Anne, are you alright?” she heard Priscilla ask with concern but made no answer, her eyes gliding over the letter as she devoured the words she did not dare to comprehend. Priscilla stepped closer. “Anne, you’re white as chalk and barely breathing at all! What is it, darling?”

The red-haired girl glanced up at her friend and opened her mouth in the vain attempt to explain her state, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. The lump in her throat was enough to make her success unlikely – with the trembling of her lips and the tears fogging her eyes, it became impossible.

“I’ll get some water,” Phil announced evenly and left the room, while Stella crossed it and sat quietly by Anne’s side. Priscilla remained where she was, watching the scene attentively.

Anne drew a sharp breath.

“It’s Marilla,” she said eventually, when she finally felt she could say anything at all – if only to feel her voice crack as soon as she did. She shook her head. “She’s unwell. Very, very, very unwell.”

She failed to explain anything more as the sobbing she had been trying to fight had finally taken over her. Her shoulders shook violently and a few heavy drops fell down her cheeks, disappearing under the fingers she pressed against her mouth. One or two of her tears came through and fell on the letter she was holding – and the realisation of that little detail only made her want to cry more.

Never in her life had she cried so vehemently.

“Anne, dearest!” Stella exclaimed and embraced her friend tightly, the gesture more meaningful than anything she could say. Anne appreciated it too, and yet, she couldn’t help but edge away as soon as she had found the strength to do it.

“Mrs Lynde says it looked like nothing but a cold at first,” she stammered in between her sobs. “Of course, for someone Marilla’s age even a cold can be dangerous, especially if they refuse to rest properly – but Mrs Rachel clearly said that it was the one time when she managed to persuade Marilla to take a real break before it escalates! Oh, that itself should have been a sign enough!”

She covered her mouth with her hand once more, closing her eyes as she pondered over the threat that had so unexpectedly entered her life. Phil, who had walked into the room seconds earlier, gave her miserable friend a scrutinising glare.

“I know that look, Queen Anne,” she said as she took her place on the other side of the sofa; she handed Anne the glass she had brought with her, but Anne disregarded the offer with another shake of her head. Phil, however, was not one to give up easily. “You think that if you had been there, you would have paid attention to that ‘sign’ as you call it and saved Marilla from the complications. You wouldn’t have.”

“How can you know that?”

“If Rachel Lynde failed to notice the danger, you would have done the same. I might not have met her in person, but everything you’ve told me so far only proves that she is not a woman who would miss anything easily.”

“But she doesn’t know Marilla as I do!” Anne protested again, even more fiercely now.

“Are you really so sure about that? I’m not saying that there aren’t some ways in which you really do understand her better, but you’re doing Mrs Lynde injustice. You have known Marilla for barely a decade, while she has for her entire, much longer life. She raised ten children who, I am sure, fell ill at all ages; and she had had an elderly husband to look after until very recently. You couldn’t wish for a better nurse for your guardian.”

Anne lowered her gaze at the letter once more and closed her eyes right after.

“I still should have been there for her,” she whispered somewhat calmed, even though she had never stopped trembling. “Maybe if I had been there to look after her, it wouldn’t have gone so far and the danger wouldn’t be so great!”

“How great is it now?” asked Priss.

“Pneumonia,” Anne answered before giving in to her weeping again, too weak to control it for longer than those few short moments. Phil reached out and stroke her hair, and this time Anne felt too tired to protest against it in any way at all.

All she could do was sit where she was, with her face hidden in her hands and shivers running through her young, exhausted body.

“Pneumonia is not a death sentence, Anne,” Priscilla remarked eventually, finally sitting herself on a nearby chair. “It’s dangerous, of course – but Mrs Lynde is right about there being no need to panic. We both know she would have told you straight away if there was. And my own mother went through pneumonia last year, and you know that she’s as strong as ever now!”

“Oh, don’t tell me about your mother!” Anne cried out, jerking her head up, her eyes green with anger and despair. “She has nothing to do with it – you can’t compare her to Marilla! And you cannot compare the situations, either!”

“Anne, for goodness’ sake, calm down!” Phil answered the outburst immediately and caught her companion’s arm, hoping to at least prevent her from jumping to her feet then and there and perhaps leaving the room right after. Anne freed herself from the clasp easily, however, and stood up regardless of Phil’s tries.

“Don’t talk to me about staying calm, Phil,” she said hollowly. “You can’t imagine what I am feeling right now. You can’t know what it is like to have someone like Marilla – sick… It’s not like seeing your mother fall ill, because that’s not what Marilla is to me. She is the one who chose to love me and take care of me, against her plans and her neighbours’ advice, against her own doubts, against her better judgment. And she’s not your mother’s age, Priscilla; she’s older and she’s weaker, no matter how much she tries to ignore it sometimes. I will not calm down.”

“You won’t help her in such state,” Stella attempted to reason; but Anne would not be moved.

“I won’t help her no matter what state I’m in,” she opposed a little more meekly, sinking on the sofa again. “No, my dears, as long as I am here, there is nothing I can do. So please, just for now, let me be miserable. It’s one of the few moment of my life when I truly have a reason to be.”

She remained silent for the shortest of moments before rising again, startling her friends with her abrupt movement. “Oh, but I can’t! I can’t sit here, pitying myself when she is so sick and certainly in need of attention. Mrs Lynde might be there but she can’t look after her and the twins alone. I must leave Kingsport as soon as possible and go back to Green Gables, somehow… Oh, but I need to clear my head first!”

And before anyone could stop her, she sprang from her place and ran towards the door, paying no mind to her friends’ astonishment, nor or her own tears that now flowed down her cheeks freely. She still held the fateful letter in a tight grasp – and she was not going to put it away any time soon.

Thus agitated, she did not hear the gentle knocking on the door, nor the quiet creak it gave when the person on the other side pushed it open – nor did she have the time to react when the person appeared right before her eyes.

She ran straight into his chest and barely comprehended that she had at all.

“Goodness me, Anne, that sure is a way to welcome a fellow,” she heard him ask with the smallest hint of humour and realised with shock it was Gilbert she had run into. She took a step back at once and looked up, barely able tot recognise his features through the mist of her tears.

She swallowed and sniffed, and wiped some of them away.

“I’m sorry, Gilbert, I didn’t notice you,” she apologised quickly, her eyes fleeing to the door behind his back. “But please, excuse me. I need some fresh air, immediately.”

Gilbert’s eyes grew wide in surprised, the mirth in his eyes replaced with worry as he took in her appearance.

“What is it, Anne?” he asked again, his voice so full of fear that Anne could not help but glance at him again; and yet, she knew she needed to leave before she did something incredibly silly, like throwing herself onto him, if only because he was the only person in the world who had any idea how much Marilla meant to her.

So she shook her head, again, and waved a hand at him, hoping against hope that it would be enough to make him let her through.

Of course, she was a fool to ever believe that.

“Anne, please, look at me,” he urged her, but she didn’t listen to him. Gilbert sighed deeply and put his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to steady her at least. “Listen, I know I have no right to make inquiries, and I’m not going to make any. But you’re clearly not fit for going anywhere alone.”

“It’s home, Gil,” she whispered, not sure what she was saying, and certainly not capable of realising it was the first time in months since she had last called him by this name. “Home, Green Gables… it’s… Marilla...”

She did something silly then, namely the one thing she had promised herself not to do; but she was too unhappy to care about anything other than her most pressing worries – and in a way, Gilbert was holding her already.

She collapsed into his arms without giving the matter a second thought.

To say that Gilbert was surprised would be like calling the storm a drizzle. He blinked, astonished by her sudden closeness, but did not pull away, as Anne half expected he would. He noticed Phil coming from the other room and hesitated, simultaneously giving the girl a questioning look, to which he received no clear answer.

“Anne, whatever it is, I promise we’ll get you through it,” he muttered into her ear as he finally embraced her trembling form, holding her closer than ever before and yet, unable to draw the slightest satisfaction from the feeling it gave.

He could never be content when she was hurting like this.

“You need to sit down,” he went on, ignoring the sudden wince she gave at his words. “You don’t have to say anything, but I won’t let you out of Patty’s Place until I see you can stand firmly on your own. Come on, Anne, listen to me. For old times’ sake.”

He pulled away then and gave her a small smile, which Anne could not return. She wanted to protest, but Gilbert granted her no time, stirring her gently towards the parlour, ignoring the curious glances the rest of the girls gave them.

Anne walked quietly, with her eyes fixed on the floor before her, too distraught to notice anything at all.

Consciously or nor, Gilbert made her sit on the exact same spot she had occupied before and took his place next to her. The glass Phil had brought was now standing on the tea table; he wasted no time reaching for it and offering it to her.

Anne glared at him grudgingly. “I don’t want to drink, Gilbert.”

“I still think you should,” he insisted with the same gentleness that had marked his actions from the start. “Believe it or not, but clear water can do wonders. It will make you feel better, too. Come, for -”

“Don’t you finish it,” she interrupted him, taking the glass from his clasp. “You’re making it sound as if I had listened to you before.”

Gilbert wisely refrained from any remark that could come to his mind and simply nodded in acknowledgement, watching her sip the drink in perfect silence.

He took the glass away the moment she had finished.

“Thank you,” she responded to his action with sudden shyness, as if the cure he had prescribed her had made her calm down enough for her to realise the impropriety of the situation. Determined not to meet his eye again, she fixed her own on the letter which had caused her distress in the first place – and shivered as yet another wave of hopelessness washed over her at the memory of its contents.

“I’m guessing this is a Green Gables letter,” Gilbert stated rather than asked, nodding towards the creased, damped paper.

Anne confirmed with a nod of her own.

“May I?”

His words took her aback entirely and once again, she was too surprised not to look at him in response. Her eyes soon shifted from his face to his extended hand and she frowned as she tried to comprehend what the gesture could mean. He smiled weakly and brushed his fingers against the letter.

Anne’s eyes grew even bigger now.

“You want to read it?” she asked with disbelief.

“Only if you want me to,” Gilbert reassured her hastily. “But I can tell it is the reason of your current state and more importantly, I am quite sure its not something you’d like to recount. So unless Mrs Lynde is telling you secrets I should not know about...”

“It’s all about Marilla,” Anne explained quickly and handed him the letter. If Gilbert was disappointed by the coolness of her answer, he showed no sign of it.

All he did was take the letter and read it as attentively as the situation allowed.

Anne’s gaze lingered over his focused countenance for a few moment befores she once again realised how inappropriate it was to stare at him like this, especially after everything that had happened between them in the course of the two preceding years. No matter how much she wished otherwise, Gilbert was no longer her old school chum – and as this realisation came, she almost regretted showing him the letter in the first place.

It was too late to change her mind, however, and it was something Anne realised as well.

She looked away then, and fixed her eyes on the floor before her; only to look up at Gilbert again when she felt him shift next to her. His attention was still on the letter, and Anne turned her head away, somewhat embarrassed by her own restlessness. She shifted her sight in the search of her girl friends, expecting to be met by their curious glances and maybe a wiggle or two of their eyebrows, directed at their unexpected guest – and found with astonishment that none of them was present in the room any longer. She tensed visibly after the discovery and yet, it only made her wish to appear calmer than she ever was. With no little difficulty, she refrained from casting another glance at Gilbert, resolving to content herself with only observing him in the corner of her eye.

Her hands were clasped tightly on her lap now and unconsciously, Anne began to fidget with her own fingers; and when that wasn’t enough, she did the same with the soft, creamy fabric of her dress. She closed her eyes in pain, no longer knowing on which to bestow them… and opened them again in shock, feeling the pressure of another, stronger hand covering and squeezing her white, trembling ones.

She looked up at Gilbert in bewilderment, only to discover that he was just as focused on her letter as before, frowning over it with obvious concern which, however, had nothing to do with her momentary agitation.

As if sitting in her shared living room, reading her correspondence and holding her hand had been the most natural things for him to do.

“I’m almost done,” he murmured before she’d had a chance to object or hasten him with any other comment. “Try to sit still for a moment and I’ll manage to finish even sooner.”

He let go of her hand then and came back to the letter with doubled attentiveness. Anne flinched a little at the change, trying to ignore the strange longing for the contact that came over her as soon as it had ended – and quietly scolding herself for even stopping to think of such nonsense when so much more was presently at stake.

Fiddlesticks, she thought to herself, recalling the crisp manner in which Marilla had always spoke while making a comment of this sort. Anne felt her lip tremble and bit it, looking away and sighing for what seemed like a hundredth time that day.

She almost made up her mind to leave the sofa and search for her friends when she heard Gilbert move again, folding the letter he apparently had just finished reading. She turned towards him a little hesitantly.

“When did you get this?” he once again beat her to her question, asking his own. His hazel eyes glowed with determination Anne couldn’t yet understand.

She shook her head. “Just before you came. I’m so sorry, Gilbert, I never would have behaved like this – but we had no warning. No one said anything about Marilla being unwell in their last letter, even though she must have been if it’s so serious now – but I didn’t know. And then you came, also by surprise -”

“Anne, it’s alright,” he disrupted he, his voice warm but firm. He made a small movement towards her, as if he had wanted to take her hand in his again but changed his mind at the very last moment. “You don’t have to apologise for showing your emotions, especially when it’s Marilla you’re concerned about. And I certainly don’t want you to think that you should be hiding them from me.”

Anne tried to answer his words with a grateful smile but only managed to grimace at him instead.

“I’m not sure whether I’m happy or vexed that it was you who came,” she admitted quietly, resting her tormented gaze back on her hands.

Gilbert’s jaw tightened at her words. “I’m sorry if you see it as an intrusion. I have never meant it to be.”

“No, Gil, that’s not what I meant!” she protested, amazed that her words could be understood in this way. It was her who almost reached for his hand this time. “Please, believe me. It’s just… No one here really knows Marilla – Priscilla might have met her, but she doesn’t know her… But you do. And as comforting as it is to have someone else from Avonlea with me now, it also makes it all so much more real. And… and it’s terrifying.”

Gilbert relaxed visibly and nodded in understanding before allowing himself a little, crooked smile.

He leaned towards his distressed friend and tilted his head so he could look at her directly. “Should I perhaps get you some other Avonlea inhabitant to assist you? Maybe Charlie Sloan’s presence could bring you some comfort without necessarily reminding you of the reality? He seems to be the most practical young man, but you and I both know how skilled he is at turning every conversation into something quite abstract.”

“I wish all of you just stopped mentioning Charlie today – really, it is rather unnerving.” Anne huffed with some of her usual fire back. “And how can you joke about any of this right now?”

“It seemed like a good way to distract you from all that sobbing,” he answered with a calm, confident smile. “I’m sorry if I appear unfeeling, but you know that I’m not; and I need you to calm down before we move on to anything else.”

“But I don’t want to calm down! I’ve told the girls that and I’m standing by it while talking to you.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to if you want to make any decisions today, and I’m fairly certain that you do.”

Anne’s brow rose high, as if Gilbert had suddenly started speaking Chinese.

“Decisions?” she asked, abashed. “I can’t make any decisions from here and I don’t think I could do anything to -”

“You want to come back, though, don’t you?” he interrupted her chaotic explanation with a hurry. “And if I know you at all, you’ve been thinking about getting there since the moment you first learned about Marilla’s sickness. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not,” she admitted, fighting yet another set of tears coming to cloud her eyes. “I have to go back and as soon as I can, but -”

“But she can’t do it now,” Phil finished the sentence for her as she walked into the room with a tea tray. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, Queen Anne. I wasn’t eavesdropping; I simply thought you two could use some fortification during a talk like this. The point remains, however; Anne is not in a state for travelling and I dare say she won’t be any time soon.”

“I’d be fine, Phil, really,” the other girl opposed weakly and then turned back to Gilbert again. “But I would have to travel alone and as used as I am to it by now, I don’t think it would be wise to do it when I’m in ‘such state’.”

Gilbert shook his head impatiently. “I don’t think you should travel such a long distance alone even in a perfect health, Anne. But I never said that’s what you should do now, either.”

“I can’t ask the girls to come with me, Gil,” Anne explained softly, even though it was apparent how much it hurt her to accept such unfortunate circumstances. “They have their own obligations and responsibilities here at Redmond. Don’t you deny it, Phil,” she added quickly, raising her hand. “I’ve discussed all of these plans with you – I know you can’t afford leaving now. None of you can.”

Silence fell on the room, disturbed with nothing but Anne’s desperate, uneven breathing and the purring of Rusty, who suddenly appeared next to her legs. It didn’t last long, however, as Gilbert soon cleared his throat, straightening up in a confident manner.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” he said candidly, before turning towards the girl he had once pledged his love and life to, and looking into her eyes with perfect honesty, he promptly said, “I will take you there.”

#fanfiction #anne of green gables #aogg #anne of the island #aoti #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #marilla cuthbert #shirbert #alternative ending #books versed #friendship #romance #family #hurt/comfort

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royalcordelia · 6 years

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Time Turns to Amber (2/11)

Summary: The line between universes is blurred when Anne Shirley of Green Gables suddenly switches lives with Ann Shirley-Cuthbert, a university student living in the contemporary world. Suddenly Anne must learn how to navigate the modern world, one which contains a boyfriend, a part time job, and another year of university. Meanwhile, Ann struggles to tackle corsets, farming, and a world without electricity. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but most people can’t tell the difference between the redhead they know and the girl who replaced her. Dedicated to the ever-beautiful @hecksinki

A Time Travel, Soulmate AU

Rated T+ • 7k words • Read on ao3 • Part 1 •

If the circumstances had been different, Ann might’ve secretly wished to never move from this spot. Where else was better than this corner of the world with its enduringly beautiful Avonlea sunsets and comfortable July breeze? She also didn’t mind leaning up against the armrest of the plush porch swing with her legs on Gilbert’s lap. Her eyes fell on him and the one hand that rested on her leg, the other typing something into his phone.

“Alright, Ann-girl. I’ve successfully hacked into your bluetooth speakers. The music choice is yours,” he said. His fingers ran up the skin of her leg in a particularly gentle caress, sending chills down her nerves.

“Gilbert Blythe letting someone else choose the music for once? The world must be ending.”

“Ha ha,” he replied sarcastically. “Maybe I’ll blast something raunchy and obscene so that even Rachel Lynde blushes two miles away.”

“You wouldn’t ,” Ann gasped. Temptation slipped into his face, but drained away as quickly as it came.

“Not today I wouldn’t,” Gilbert admitted. Not with Matthew in the hospital in the middle of an open heart surgery after a small stroke he’d had in the fields early the day before. With Matthew condemned to the ICU, Marilla was glued to his side. She insisted that Ann stay home, an assertion that the 22-year-old redhead rebutted with a fierce conviction. But then Marilla began to cry, and Ann realized that the cost of this battle was more than she was willing to pay.

She called Gilbert, who arrived almost instantaneously to drive her home, and the rest was history - less than a day of moving through the house with the ghost of Matthew following her and the eminence of the inevitable looming over her head. The only thing that kept her eyes from glazing over completely was Gilbert’s kind presence at her side - humble and empathetic. What would she do without him, her very best friend who cooked her comfort food and held her when she felt she’d drown in worry?

He was one of the only people who understood her. He was the only one that could have known that when her eyes burned from so many tears that the cure was the spirit of the island in its sunset and summer wind. Only Gilbert could have known that the one place she could rest was on the veranda of her home, swaying on her favorite porch swing and listening to her favorite music.

“Hey, where have you wandered off to?” Gilbert asked gently, scratching his fingers into the skin behind her ear. “You’ve been staring at Hozier’s album cover for a good minute now.”

“What can I say? I love to appreciate art,” she replied weakly, pressed play, then handed Gilbert his phone. As the opening notes of “In a Week” hummed from the small speaker set on the porch railing, Ann shifted so that her head was buried in his neck and his arms could wrap around her like a protective shield.

Yes, if circumstances had been different, she’d be running away from her rapid heartbeat and the peace of being the recipient of many head kisses. And Gilbert would let her flee, knowing that she would have to do it if they wanted to keep this pretense of friendship free from his growing feelings. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

But for now, this was okay. Matthew was going to be okay, too. They repeated it in their heads, a simultaneous and silent mantra.

When Marilla called Gilbert’s phone later that evening, Ann had already been pulled down by the last purples of the sunset into sleep. She didn’t stir when the folksy melodies had turned to the tritone chime of his ringtone. Gilbert, confident that Ann was deep in the reprieve of a dream, answered the call.

“Hello?” There was a pause, then - “Oh, hey Miss Cuthbert. No, no, everything’s okay. We didn’t hear the house phone because we’ve been on the porch...Yeah, she’s asleep.” There was another pause, a sigh of relief from Gilbert that carried an entire day’s weight with it. “That really is great news, Marilla. I’ll tell her as soon as she wakes up. We’ll be here when you get home. Is there anything you needed done before then?...Are you sure?...Yeah, you too. Bye.”

Gilbert set his phone down and pressed a kiss to Ann’s hair.

“Look at that, Ann-girl,” he whispered into perfumed strands. “Looks like Matthew’s going to be okay after all.”

Ann believed that if the world was against her, she had acclimated to its cruelty. She had developed a sixth sense for predicting whether a single moment would tear apart the peace of the present, or bring days worth of joy.

When Gilbert’s name lit up across her phone at three in the morning, paired with the chimes of a phone call, Ann’s sixth sense told her to steel herself.

“Hey Gil,” she answered, voice groggy. “Everything alright?”

She was met with silence for a few seconds, long enough that Ann began to wonder if Gilbert had really meant to call her at all. Maybe he’d been dreaming or slept with his phone in his hand and -

“Ann, can you -” his voice broke off and she heard him swallow. “I’m sorry to wake you up.”

The strain in his voice was enough to stir her awake completely, and she sat straight up in bed.

“Gilbert, what’s wrong?” She heard a sharp inhale, a few indistinct voices in the background, some strange beeping noises, then a shuddering exhale.

“My dad was...he’s….he was in an accident. Th- There was nothing they could do.”

Ann deflated as if a massive weight had fallen on her chest. She pulled the phone away from her face, almost as if to hide the whimper that came from her lips and the tears welling up in her eyes. Gilbert’s father was all the family he had left. There were no uncles, no grandparents, no long lost cousins.

And now there was just Gilbert - the last, the only. Her heart split down the center at the thought of him living the way she’d had to, orphaned and lonely.

“Gilbert, I…” A tear slid down her cheek and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Where are you? I’m already on my way.”

She found him in a waiting room of the Carmody hospital, thirty minutes outside of Avonlea by car. He was slumped in a chair against the wall in the corner of the sterile space, pale faced and red eyed. Ann waited in the doorway, wondering if she should break his quiet grieving, only to have him look up through heavy lashes.

Ann didn’t have to be told what to do then. In a moment she was kneeling before him and wrapping him in an embrace that she hoped would shield him from the anguish closing in around him. His stiff arms came around her in an instant, his face pressed into the comfort of the crook of her neck.

“It’s alright, I got you,” she soothed. Gilbert let out a quiet whimper fingers digging into the soft fabric of her shirt.

They stayed like that for a while, Ann rubbing his back and soothing him as he wept. She couldn’t ask him what happened, only able to ask one of the passing nurses once Gilbert had gotten up to use the bathroom and wipe off his face. John Blythe had been in a car crash driving home from his job late that night, the nurse told her.

“There are only two types of people on the road that late,” the nurse said. “Third shifters and drunks.”

Ann rubbed her hands over her face and sighed.

“Ann,” Gilbert called quietly out behind her. “Can you take me home?”

She looked back to the nurse, unsure if there was any paperwork to be filled out or procedures to be completed, but the nurse nodded.

They drove home in silence, Gilbert’s cheek pressed against the window of the car, glassy eyes watching the blurry trees pass them on the highway. Ann kept her fingers on the wheel, trying her best to keep her focus centered on the snowy January roads. The car had grown cold, so Ann reached a hand over to turn up the heat and face the vents toward Gilbert, who’d forgotten to take a coat when he left the house.

“I don’t know how to plan a funeral,” he admitted quietly.

“I do,” Ann said, “I’ll help you. I’ll write the obituary and call the hospital and funeral home in the morning.”

Gilbert nodded his head, then turned to look at her.

“At home. We’ll have the funeral at home.”

“Whatever you want,” Ann said, pulling into his driveway. The gray house was all shadows when the pair walked up the front porch steps, Ann’s hand entwined with Gilbert’s to keep him standing. She released his hand and watched him collapse on the couch, face turned away from her. She stood across the room for a few seconds, watching his chest rise and fall with an odd, unsteady rhythm. But then, as if a switch had been flipped in her mind, she began to work.

Caring for Gilbert was much easier than she could have anticipated, not because his pain was less than she expected, but because her heart knew his needs without having to be told. She knew that he was most comfortable when he had his own pillow and the large blanket his mother quilted for him during her pregnancy. Ann wrapped him in his quilt and placed the pillow beneath his head wordlessly, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye as she stood up.

Gilbert watched as she moved quietly around the room and turned down pictures that had his father in them, knowing that seeing them would hurt too much. Even in his grief, or maybe because of it, he had a strange, quiet realization. Ann Shirley-Cuthbert was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on, with her messy bun of auburn hair and strength in her brave shoulders. Bathed in the moonlight coming in through the windows, he could stared at the milky skin of her neck and the tear trails on her cheeks.

Then she came to his side with a plate of peanut butter toast and a shot of whisky.

“How’d you know where that was?” he murmured in a scratchy voice, nodding down at the shot glass. He brought the copper substance to his lips and let the burn travel down his throat.

“I’ve watched you sneak it out a few times,” she confessed. “I brought you some toast in case you’re hungry.”

He wasn’t, but he took a bite out of it to soften the worry lines on her forehead.

“Thanks,” he said, mouth dry from the peanut butter. “You can go home now, Ann. I’ll be fine.”

“If you think I’m leaving you now, Gil, you’ve got another storm coming,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “If you want to be alone, I can go up to the guest room.”

“No, I don’t want to be alone.”

Ann nodded, standing up to take the chair next to the couch, but Gilbert opened his arms, causing Ann to pause. With no room on either side of him, she settled with her chest pressed to his, legs tangled together. She thought back to the day of Matthew’s surgery, how she’d wanted Gilbert to hold her just like this in her own sadness. That day she’d been too distracted to notice how her heart raced in his chest. Now she was acutely aware of the effect of his breath in her hair and the intimacy of her heartbeat thumping to the same tempo as his.

She thought he’d fallen asleep when she murmured into his shirt, “Do you think you’ll be okay, Gil?” To her surprise, his embrace tightened and she felt a tired sigh blow through her hair.

“Someday,” was his whispered reply.

The wake, funeral, and reception went by in a blur to Ann and Gilbert, who played hosts to dozens of bodies coming and going through the Blythe household. Ann stayed by Gilbert’s side throughout the four days, knowing how exhausting it must have been to spend the last weeks of winter break in mourning. Marilla and Matthew helped too - Marilla bringing by meals and clean clothes for Ann, Matthew coming to fix the wood furnace in Gilbert’s living room when it malfunctioned hours before the reception. Diana came by to help clean the house for a few hours because, You’re supporting Gil, Ann, but who’s supporting you? And when it was all finally over, Ann felt like she could release a breath she had been holding onto since Gilbert called to pick him up from the hospital.

Perhaps she relaxed a little too soon.

“I’m sorry, what?” she choked out. She and Gilbert were sitting on the docks of the Lake of Shining Waters, the pond that separated the Barry and Cuthbert lands. Ann’s face was white, even paler with the sunlight reflecting off of the snow and onto her cheeks.

“It’d just be for a year, Ann. I just have to get out of here for a little bit,” Gilbert said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Walking through Avonlea is like walking beside the ghosts of my past.”

“I’ve haven’t left your side for the past two weeks and you haven’t thought to tell me about this?”

“I knew if I told you I was thinking about it, you’d react like this.”

“And how am I reacting?”

Gilbert took a deep breath and gave a melancholy smile.

“Heartbroken enough that it’d make me consider staying.”

A small little sob escaped her lips and she stood up. She looked out over the frozen pond with its icy fractals, puffs of hot breath blowing fog in front of her face.

“No, I won’t ask you to stay. I know why you have to leave,” she said finally, wiping her cheeks.

“Just think about the sorts of cool souvenirs I can send back from an internship on a cruiseliner. The first stop is Trinidad, you know.”

She turned back to him, biting her lip to keep from smiling. There was no staying angry at Gilbert Blythe for long.

“You’ll call?” she asked.

“Everyday.”

“And send pictures?”

“As many as you want.”

“And when you come back, you’ll finish school?”

“It’s just a gap year, Ann. I’m not waving the white flag yet.”

Ann crossed her arms over her chest and set her face into his shoulder. She hadn’t expected this turn of events, otherwise she’d have cherished his company more, paid more attention to making lasting memories. He brought a hand up to her head and ran his fingers through her hair in a way that was so very Gilbert.

“I’ll miss you too,” he said gently. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done since Dad…”

“You’ve done the same for me,” she said, pulling back.

“Still, I appreciate it.”

Their gazes lingered on each other’s for a few seconds, bringing back that same warmth that had started blooming in Ann’s chest whenever she really looked at him. How easy it would be to just rise onto her toes and press her lips against-

“Well, I better start packing,” Gilbert said, clearing his throat. Ann blinked a few times, turning her heated cheeks toward the ground.

“Do you want some help?”

An affectionate spark lit up in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind some company. The house is a little lonely.”

Two days later, a small crowd of Gilbert’s favorite people followed him to the Public Bus station. He carried two suitcases with him, his other belongings already mailed to the cruise liner that was to be his home for a year. Ann walked in pace with him at his side, with Diana and their friend Jeri trailing behind. The rest of their friends would be meeting them there, Charlie and Moody, Ruby and Jane.

“I didn’t think everyone would spend their last day of break saying goodbye to me,” Gilbert admitted as he laid eyes on the crowd waiting for him.

“Everyone loves you, Gilbert. Some more than others,” Jeri said, pushing a long strand of brown hair out of her face. She gave Ann a sneaky, sly grin, only to be shot daggers in return. Before Ann could say anything terribly embarrassing, the group at the bus station exploded with They’re here! and There you are! You finally quit dragging your asses!

Ann was quiet as everyone said their goodbyes to Gilbert, who was nearly rendered speechless at the overwhelming explosion of affection on his behalf. His eyes lingered over to her every few seconds, noticing her unusual silence as easily as if she’d been yelling. When she was the only person left to say goodbye, he walked up to her and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Whatcha thinking about, Ann-girl?”

“I’m wondering who I’m going to study with, or who’s going to come annoy me at Patty’s Place when you’re gone.”

“I’m sure Roy Gardner will be happy to fill my shoes.”

“Big pass,” she groaned, nudging him in the stomach with her elbow. “It’s gonna be a long year without you, Gil.”

“You too,” he replied in a reverent murmur. “But I’ll call and text and send pigeon mail and smoke messages just as promised.” She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, but he could tell there was something waiting on the tip of her tongue. “What is it?”

“I’m about to do something I probably shouldn’t do in front of all of our friends,” she stated seriously.

Gilbert felt his heart leap into his throat, and he swallowed it back with difficulty. There was nowhere else to look but down at Ann, red hair in two braids down the front of her sky blue winter jacket and freckles like snowflakes floating on her cheeks. The chatter or their friends had either fallen silent or he’d simply grown unable to hear it. Ann rose her brows as if asking for permission, and he nodded, entranced and grinning.

Then she was holding the sides of his face and kissing him. Tension drained from them the second their lips made contact, like a long carried weight finally gone from their shoulders. Gasps came from their friends, but neither minded, content to stay held in a tender embrace.

When she pulled back, Gilbert had to remind himself where he was, what he was doing. The look in her eyes was almost enough for him to reconsider the whole internship and stay home to kiss her as long as he wanted.

“They just gave last call for boarding,” she reminded him quietly. Gilbert nodded, not really hearing her. Ann laughed. “That means get on the bus, you idiot!”

Gilbert blinked, looking around at their smug friends.

“ Oh! Right. I’m going. See you guys soon.” He picked up his bag, turned around, took two steps, then turned right back around. Ann, who had deflated the second he’d gone, let out a small gasp when he marched right back up to her.

“Let me take you to dinner when I get back,” he said bravely. Ann let out a half hysterical laugh and covered her face in her hands.

“Okay, okay! Just get on the fucking bus. It’s going to leave without you.”

“You will?” he asked, crooked grin on his face.

“I said I would!” she laughed, then horror crossed her face. “Gilbert, they’re closing the back doors, get on there!”

He pressed his lips to her cheek, gave one last wave to his friends, and jogged onto the bus. It pulled off before they could find the window he sat by and give their last goodbyes. Then it had pulled out of the station, a distant speck in the horizon, Diana pulled an arm around Ann’s shoulders. She might’ve said something, but Jeri cut her off.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” she stated.

“Leave her alone, Jer,” Diana scolded, then tugged Ann closer to her side.“Come on, babe, let’s get you home.”

The kitchen smelled of dried cranberry and crush rose petals several mornings later, the sun dripping in through the translucent cream curtains. When Ann came down the creaky stairs, she found Marilla working over the stove with her back turned to her. The older woman had her long gray hair tied in a single braid down her back, a style which made people who didn’t know her assume she was some sort of nonconformist.

Ann stood in the doorway, enjoying the swell in her heart at the comforting sight of Marilla at work. Then she pulled her phone out and snapped a picture of the scene for days when it was raining and lonely in Kingsport.

“Morning, Ma,” Ann said lowly, as not to startle her. The nickname was one that had originated from Ann’s pressing desire to address Marilla as Mom, and Marilla’s insistence that Ann merely call her by the name her parents had given her.

“Good morning, Ann,” Marilla replied, wiping her arm against her sweaty brow. “You’re just in time. Can you hand me the rose oils? I can’t read the small print on the bottles.”

Ann swept across the fragrant kitchen over to the counter, where Marilla had her open case of essential oils.

“Who are you making soap for this time?” she asked, rifling through the tiny vials in search for the rose colored one.

“I’m making a large batch this time. I’ll be donating some to the church for their craft sale, but you may take the extras and send them to Gilbert if you’d like.”

“Ah, found it!” Ann said triumphantly, handing Marilla the oils. “Is that your long winded way of suggesting that Gilbert isn’t bathing?” Marilla sent a glare over her shoulder, mixing the soap in the warm pan. “No, Gilbert doesn’t like soaps that are too sweet. Diana might like some, though! She’s been having a hard time at home.”

Marilla turned off her mixer.

“Why’s that? Her parents aren’t fighting, are they?”

“No, it’s not that. They just...share different opinions with her on certain things, I guess. It breaks her heart to see her parents talk the way they do.”

“You don’t ever feel that way about me, do you?” Marilla asked carefully. Ann draped an arm around Marilla’s back and leaned her head on her shoulder. She took a deep breath, inhaling the aromatic perfume of the soap, then handed Marilla the bowl of dried berries and petals.

“Not even a little.”

At that moment, the back door swung open with a creak, followed by familiar heavy footsteps. Matthew appeared then, wiping his hands on his jeans and smiling at his girls.

“I see Rachel convinced you to make that soap, after all.”

“She reminded me of my ‘Presbyterian duty’ and was more than happy to remind me of all the filthy people just waiting to be cleaned by the soap of the Lord.”

“Oh I see,” Ann said with a nudge. “You just wanted her to shut up.”

Marilla chuckled, turning off the heat on the stove.

“You watch how you talk about her today. She’ll be here any minute now and you know how that woman doesn’t knock before making herself at home.”

“Wait, why is Mrs. Lynde coming over?” Ann grabbed a piece of Wonderbread from its bag and stuffed it into her mouth. “Did someone die recently? Get pregnant? Find their long lost twin on Eharmony and have tear jerking reunion?”

“Rachel doesn’t always come over to gossip, Ann,” Marilla scolded.

“Come on, Marilla, you have to admit that she’s only ever over when she wants to talk shit about people.”

“Language, Ann,” Matthew said with a cup of morning coffee at his lips. Ann knew he wasn’t terribly upset, since he hadn’t even bothered to look up from his newspaper.

“If you must know, Miss Shirley Cuthbert, Rachel is coming over to drive me to the optometrist. I have an eye surgery today. I won’t be able to drive afterwards.”

“You didn’t tell me you were having surgery done,” Ann murmured. “Is it serious? Why can’t Matthew drive you?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. Matthew has things to accomplish and Rachel needs to get out of the house every now and again,” Marilla insisted, pulling off her crafting apron and folding up. “Now, don’t you have somewhere to be soon?”

She gestured down at Ann’s outfit, a tie dye shirt and a pair of boyfriend jeans with a tiny flag sticking out of the back pocket. The flag and shirt featured three colors - fuschia, purple, and blue. To top it off, she had a pin above her heart that read Kiss Me, I’m Bi!

“Oh Marilla, my first pride officially out of the closet!” Ann said excitedly. “I just wish everyone could be so lucky.”

“That’s why you’re going today, Ann-girl,” Matthew said, sticking his mug in the sink and then pressing a kiss into her red hair. “Lots of people don’t know that’s okay to be who they are, but you’re an expert in that.”

“I suppose I am,” she agreed quietly.

“Stay safe. Call me if you want to come home and I’ll pick you up,” Matthew said. Ann was about to utter her thanks when Rachel Lynde came bursting into through the door. She pulled off her flashy sunglasses, sticking them in her purse, then took one look at the college student standing unashamedly in the kitchen. Then she turned right to Marilla.

“The kids of today are losing their minds,” Rachel remarked.

“Oh thanks Mrs. Lynde,” Ann said sarcastically, “I’m only standing right here. ”

“I’m just saying that-”

“Rachel, do I need to I remind you about Harmon Andrews’ party back in ‘73 when you and Nancy McLean -”

“ Marilla! Rachel choked out, but the damage was done. Ann’s brows were raised into her hairline as she tried, and failed, to take the image of Rachel’s sapphic experiences out of her mind. “We’ll be late for your appointment!”

Rachel grabbed Marilla by her wrist, dragging her toward the back door.

“I guess we’re off. Have a nice time, Ann!” Marilla called, grabbing her purse from the back table before she could be completely kidnapped.

“I suppose that means I should get going, too,” Ann said to a red faced Matthew. “I’ll be back to make dinner.”

She was standing on the park staircase handing out various flags to empty handed passersby when she saw him. He was a lanky fellow, long limbs and honey colored hair. He had some sort of book in his hands, bounded in a mustard yellow fabric, and judging from the fluid motions of his pencil, he was sketching. Ann only noticed him because every few seconds, he’d peer up at her, then snap his eyes back down to his paper before she could think twice about it. Sitting a few steps down, he kept his bag above him to rest his elbow on. The messenger bag had a few tiny buttons on it, one of which was a thumbnail sized rainbow pin.

Ann left her station for a short moment, and took a few steps down to crouch by him. His eyes went wide when he noticed her before him, and watched nervously as she pulled a rainbow flag from her hands and handed it to him.

“Happy pride,” she said warmly.

“Thanks,” he murmured back, pulling his book against his chest.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to look at what you were drawing,” Ann said. “You just looked so lonely over here all by yourself.”

The boy averted his eyes to the pavement but gave a genuine smile that sent a familiar wave of warmth through Ann - the kind that accompanied an interaction with any new kindred spirit. He tugged his book from his chest and handed it to her.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

Ann’s jaw dropped when she saw just what the boy had been drawing. He’d been drawing her - every freckle, every smile line, every loose strand of hair. In fact, Ann didn’t think all the instagram staging or filters in the world could ever make her look so beautiful. There was something raw and ethereal about his sketch, something that made Ann want to be the girl on the paper.

“I...I don’t know what to say. It’s amazing.”

“Sorry I drew you without your permission,” he said meekly. Ann shook her head.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m honored you chose me as your subject. I’m sure there are prettier girls to draw-”

“Aw, come on, that’s not true,” he cut in. Ann shrugged.

“At any rate, thank you for showing me.” Her smile lingered on a moment as she gave him a second to either continue the conversation or return to his work. Bright blue eyes blinked at her, but the boy said nothing. “I should let you get back to it.”

Just as she turned to leave, she heard, “I’m Cole.”

Ann felt a relieved laugh escape her lips; today was not to be a day of lost kindred spirits, after all!

“I’m Ann,” she introduced, sticking a freckled hand in his face, “No E. Though if it were up to me, I’d spell it with an E. Fits my aesthetic a bit more, ya know?”

“I think I can understand that,” he said, smiling as Ann settled down beside him.

“Here, take a handful,” she said, pulling some more flags out of her pocket. “That is, if you want to help me hand them out?”

“Yeah, sure!” The more he spoke, the more be blossomed into happiness, like a flower that needs like but has been kept under shadows too long. “I tried to sign up to work the event, but I couldn’t sneak out of the house without my mom knowing. Even today, she thinks I’m on a field trip for school.”

Ann gave a sputtering laugh.

“It’s the middle of June!”

Cole shrugged. “My mother isn’t known for being the brightest crayon in the box.”

“Speaking of which, you’re an artist?”

A red hot warmth covered Cole’s face, as if he were ashamed to admit it. He pulled the sketchbook back out and opened it to the first page.

“Kinda I guess. I’m not as good as some people.”

Star-struck at the beautiful works in his soft journal, Ann flipped through the pages with gentle fingers and a tender eye.

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. These are spectacular. You’re an artist for sure.”

“Are you an artist too?”

Ann shrugged, thought about it, then shook her head.

“My medium is language, words strung together into pretty constellations of poetry and stories,” she said with a flair.

“So...a creative writer?”

“Ding ding ding! But I’m not good enough to make anything of it. Now you, on the other hand, I think you’re good enough to do whatever you want.”

“Maybe someday,” he said, knowing he had to take some of the compliment or risk disappointing her. “Umm, actually, there is- well, that is, if you’re interested. You can say no! I realize that maybe you wouldn’t want to-”

“Cole!” Ann laughed. “Out with it!”

“I’ve been trying to find someone to model for me so that I can practice more portraits. I think I could really make some decent commission money doing them, but I haven’t drawn many - er, women.”

Ann’s face had fallen with shock, and for a second, Cole thought he’d offended her.

“You know what, that’s okay, I shouldn’t have asked,” he murmured quick under his breath. He handed her the flags and moved to pack his things, but she placed a hand on his wrist.

“Wait. I’m not upset you asked me, Cole, I’m just...I was serious when I said there are prettier girls to draw. My looks are nothing special.”

“Well I beg to differ. I look at pretty things for a living and before we met, I was looking at you. Maybe it can help us both out. I can show you how you look through the eyes of other people.”

“I know already how people look at me.”

“I mean the ones that count.”

Ann flipped back to the sketch Cole had been drawing of her minutes ago, and stared at it for a second. Then she made the mistake of looking up at his hopeful eyes, the ones that longed for a kindred spirit for too long, the ones that had taken this one risk.

“Fine, I’ll do it. But it’s your fault for choosing me if your pieces come out looking odd.” Cole only smiled.

"I'll risk it."

They met every Tuesday in the late afternoon. Ann chose the time because she said it was when the sun was directly outside her window, bathing her the pastel turquoise of her room with “the most beautiful golden light in all of Avonlea.” She could have chosen three in the morning seven days a week for all he cared, he just wanted out of his house. Besides, if he’d brought a girl home, he knew for sure that his mother would say, “Cole MacKenzie, did you finally get over that homosexual phase you were in?”

Ann’s home was one were he felt safe, the first few visits showing him all he needed to see of Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, the kind siblings who’d adopted Ann.

“How long ago did you come out to Marilla and Matthew?” Cole asked one day, not taking his eyes off the intricate details of his sketch. Ann herself sat in the window seat, cross legged and looking off to the right.

“Matthew knew from the first day,” she confessed. “I was sitting outside my group home in Bolingbroke. One of the boys had just teased me about having a crush on one of the girls from school. Really, I think he was just projecting a bunch of his bullshit onto me. Matthew originally intended to adopt him - he and Marilla had planned on adopting a boy, and James was the only guy in the house - but then he met me and the plans changed. Matthew heard all about my crush at our first meeting, among other things. I talked his ear off.”

“And it didn’t bother him even a little?” Cole couldn’t imagine the unconditional acceptance of a parent, not with the way things were in his household.

“Nope. He never dated women, so I’ve often wondered...But in the end, his acceptance of an LGBT youth was what convinced my case worker to assist him with the adoption. The rest is history. I told Marilla several months later, and was officially out in Avonlea earlier this year. All of it made for a very undramatic coming out story.”

“You’re one of the lucky ones,” he murmured bitterly.

“I am. I’m blessed,” she replied sincerely. “But Cole, you’re my friend now. You’re part of this family, whether you like it or not. You’ll be one of the lucky ones soon.”

Cole smiled at this, considering offhandedly that she was right about the sunset in her window. In that moment, she looked like a fiery angel, fierce and strong.

“I’m already one of the lucky ones,” he decided.

The moment was broken by Ann’s phone chiming with a recognizable little chime. Ann didn’t budge, but only moved her eyes to see her phone sitting on the seat beside her. A smile erupted on her face and she broke her pose, swiped across her screen, and held the phone up.

“Hey stranger!” she said.

“ Hey yourself, carrots.” He was as lovely as she remembered, with those soft brown curls and warm hazel eyes. His face lit up as soon as he’d seen her, and Ann was sure she mirrored the expression. It’d been so long since he’d had time to call, giving her plenty of time to remember parting at the bus station.

“You’re lucky I’ve missed you too much to acknowledge that abominable you just called me,” she said sweetly. “Oh, Gil, how are you?”

Instead of Gilbert answering, she heard another voice come in from the background.

“ Alright Blythe, the shower is yours, but don’t take too lon-” A face appeared in the screen, bearded and dark eyed. “ Is that your girl there? Ann?”

Gilbert swatted the man away as Ann laughed, “Guilty!”

“ Can’t a guy make a call home in peace? Ann, that’s Bash, one of the guys I met working here.”

Cole came around and poked his mop of blonde strands into the frame.

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine,” Ann said. “This is Cole, the friend I told you about from pride.”

“Oh hey, man! Nice to finally put a face to a name! ”

“Cole, this is Gilbert, my…” Ann gaped for a second, causing Gilbert to raise his brows. “This is Gilbert.”

“I’ve heard lots of good things about you,” Cole said with a smile. “Medical man, right?”

“ The very same,” Gilbert replied.

“Hey, Gil, I thought you were rooming with that Nova Scotia man. What was his name? Matthew? Marcus?”

“ Maddox,” Gilbert offered. “ Bash’s roommate was being a racist asshole, and so the room director let us switch.”

“ The man didn’t want to shower in the same place I had. Can you imagine?” Bash cut in.

“Oh, I think I could,” Cole grumbled the same time Bash called out, “Oh, tell her the news, man!”

“News?” Ann said carefully. “Everything alright?”

“ No no, everything’s great. Seriously, Ann, you’d be the first to know if something was wrong. I have a feeling you’d feel a disturbance in the bosom connection between the two of us.”

“Now wait a second-”

“ But I called to let you know that my supervising doctor onboard is thrilled with my performance the last few months. He wants to get in touch with a colleague at the University of Toronto. You know, set me up an interview so that I could meet the board and get a head start on planning for grad school. It’s an amazing opportunity, and a great connection to have. Plus, the University of Toronto is one of my top choices.”

“That’s great, Gil, but isn’t that...you know, really far away?”

“Not any farther than Trinidad and the rest of the Caribbean.”

Ann bit her lip and forced herself to smile. While Gilbert was off saving lives and delivering babies, where would she be? In the back of his mind?

“Don’t forget about the small people when you’re becoming a big fancy doctor.”

“Forget about you, Queen Ann? Never.” Ann blushed, feeling the same way that she might if he suddenly told her he was in love with her - heart racing, stomach fluttering. Suddenly the image on the screen shifted away to a very passionate face of a very passionate Bash.

“ Oh Ann, I wish I could tell you of my plans for you once I graduate medical school! I’m going to be a biiiiig fancy doctor and we’ll get a biiiiig fancy house.”

“Hey!” Gilbert cried. The image on the screen turned into a rollercoaster as Bash swung the phone away from Gilbert’s grabby hands.

“ And we’ll get married and have teeny, weeny little spitfire babies. Twenty of them!”

“ Sebastian! I’m serious!”

“No? How’s twenty-five?”

Ann exchanged an awkward look with Cole, who’s smirk gave off tangible energy.

“Gilbert’s cute,” he murmured knowingly.

“ See!” Bash laughed.

Finally Gilbert was able to snag the phone away from his obnoxious roommate, and his distressed face greeted Ann when he finally managed to steady his hand.

“ Sorry about that. ”

“Not at all,” Ann said, shaking her head. “It’s just nice to hear from you, even in embarrassing circumstances.”

“I know I haven’t called much lately. I’ll fix that.”

“Effective immediately?”

“Yes ma’am,” Gilbert said officially with a solemn nod of his head. “Listen, I have to get back to my post soon. I really will call. Next time I want to hear all about how Diana’s doing and Marilla’s eye surgery, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Ann said, forcing her voice to stay even. “Hey, Gil, you know…” If it was Marilla, Matthew, or Diana, the call would have ended with Ann’s typical I love you. But she couldn’t say that now, not to Gilbert. Not because it wasn’t true, in fact, each day she knew more and more that it was true. The fact that it was true made it terrifying, especially now that he was thinking of going to Toronto. Cole grabbed her hand where Gilbert couldn’t see it, seeing some of her thoughts across her face.

“ What is it? ” Gilbert probed.

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” she said finally.

“Love you too, Shirley.” Ann’s heart gave a pleasant little jump. If only he were home. “Talk to you later.”

She smiled right as the phone beeped and went black. Ann heaved a heavy sigh and threw her phone onto her bed.

“Well, I feel like my life is complete now that I’ve finally met Gilbert Blythe: the man, the myth, the legend,” Cole said dramatically.

“Oh please, it’s just Gilbert,” Ann said, settling back into her pose. Taking the cue, Cole grabbed his sketchbook again and sat in front of her.

“But he’s not just Gilbert to you.”

Ann sighed and gave Cole a surrendering look.

“No, no he’s not.”

#anne of green gables #anne with an e #shirbert #shirbert ff #shirbert fic #tessa writes #Modern Ann Ahoy!#enjoyyyyy ♥

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mst3kproject · 6 years

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The Hideous Sun Demon

Have you ever wondered what would be the exact opposite of a werewolf? Apparently writer/star Robert Clarke did, and as his answer, he made The Hideous Sun Demon. Nan Peterson from Girls Town is in it, and Patrick Whyte from Kitten with a Whip, and William White (no relation as far as I know) from The Human Duplicators. There’s a Rifftrack available, too, so this one is officially more than qualified.

We hit the ground running, as a man is wheeled into an ambulance after a nuclear accident. This guy turns out to be Dr. Gilbert McKenna, a scientist of some description, who lost consciousness after spilling a jar of radioactive isotopes. A couple of days later, and he seems to be just fine – he’s feeling well enough to sexually harass the nurses – until he goes out in the sunshine. Rather than just giving him a tan and a bracing dose of Vitamin D, the sun’s rays de-evolve him, transforming him into a lizard monster! The condition reverses in darkness, so McKenna takes to sleeping during the day and only going out at night, but a secret like that can’t be kept forever – especially after his scaly alter-ego commits a murder.

Wow. This movie is terrible. The acting is awful, with everybody sounding like they’re reading their lines off cards. Clarke is one of the better actors in the movie as long as he’s playing low-key. When he’s supposed to be freaking out and crying, he takes it way too far, right over the edge into comical. The actors playing the other scientists always come across like they have no idea what the words they’re saying actually mean, and certainly don’t know how much of it is dead wrong. A scene in which McKenna is beaten up by some thugs outside a bar is so badly choreographed, it’s laughable.

We don’t really know McKenna at all. When we first meet him, he’s just been irradiated and is unconscious on a gurney. We are told that he’s an alcoholic and we see him try to flirt with the nurse, but really we only ever see him as the depressed guy terrified of turning into a lizard. If we knew more about him, we could sympathize with him better and feel his downward spiral more keenly. The one quick piece of background we get actually undercuts his character arc – if he’s already an alcoholic, then we have no baseline for his drinking over the rest of the movie. I think we’re supposed to believe it’s getting worse, but we don’t know.

The worst casualty of this lack of background is the nature of McKenna’s relationship with his colleague Anne Russell. We get the idea that Russell cares for McKenna very much – she worries about him constantly, and another character reminds her that she views him ‘through rose-coloured glasses’. Are they romantically involved? The first time I watched the movie I got that impression, and yet then he goes off to pursue Trudy the lounge singer. Is Anne’s love supposed to be unrequited? Are they awkward work exes? Does he deliberately dump her so she won’t be burdened by his sauranthropy? The script never deals with any of this.

Since most of the movie is set at night, the lighting is terrible – darkness and dark filters make it difficult to tell what’s going on in the outdoor scenes, and the crappy film stock doesn’t help, either. In order to make sure we know this is all happening at night, the foley guys have dubbed in lots and lots of cricket noises… which brings us to the sound, which is so bad that it’s sometimes hard to tell what people are saying. The music is often hauntingly familiar, consisting of public domain tracks we’ve heard in several of these old monster movies before – in particular I’m sure I’ve heard the song Strange Pursuit in another movie, but googling it turns up very few results.

The lizard-man is… not great. The mask is about as good as anything from the fifties, and fairly elaborate, with lots of individual scales and teeth and extra makeup for Clarke’s chest and hands, so he can run around with his shirt open. In other movies the cheese factor of the monster suit is minimized by a lot of lurking in the shadows, and the makers of The Hideous Sun Demon have handicapped themselves quite badly by having a creature that must appear in full sunlight. We get a nice clear look at stuff like the seam where the costume head meets the chest, or the wrinkles where it bends at the elbows.

And yet… for all that… I kind of like this movie. The idea of a reverse werewolf, a creature that transforms and kills by daylight, tickles my sense of humour – but it’s an interesting concept on other levels, too. It invites us, for example, to think about why night is the traditional time for monsters. This is such a truism that it’s rarely even put into words. Everybody knows that Evil People Only Come Out At Night, and when we do think about it, the reason why seems obvious: night-time is when things like wolves and sabre-tooth tigers used to come out and gnaw on the unwary among our ancestors. We’re still here because the survivors passed on genes that made them afraid of the dark.

This means that a man who transforms into a monster by day is a very different creature from the traditional were-animal. Werewolves, who change only under the moon, can lead a normal life while partially, or even wholly, unaware of their affliction. Darkness is anonymity. McKenna doesn’t get to be anonymous. He literally has the full light of day on his problem.

Because darkness is anonymity, it is a time for monsters in another, only slightly less literal way: night-time is when an awful lot of crime happens, because there are less likely to be any witnesses. Again, this is very relevant to creatures like werewolves and vampires, creatures of the night – their activities can go unseen because of this lack of witnesses. It’s also important for Gil, but in a different way. He cannot be a creature of the day, because it brings out the monster in him. He is therefore forced to be a creature of the night, and must keep company with other creatures of the night, such as Trudy and her gangster boyfriend.

Trudy is an interesting character, in that she represents both knowledge and innocence. She hangs out with criminals and, rather astonishingly for a movie of this vintage, is presented quite frankly as sexually promiscuous. McKenna takes her out to the beach and it is heavily implied that they had sex there before he ran off at sunrise so she wouldn’t see him transform, and later dialogue tells us that this is not her first such encounter with a near-stranger! It’s not fully explicit, but it’s still perfectly clear, and this is possibly the one thing the movie does well. At the same time, what McKenna finds attractive about her is that she doesn’t know his secret. She’s innocent of the terrible truth and interacts with him on that level.

I still don’t know what the relationship between McKenna and Russell was supposed to be, but McKenna’s pursuit of Trudy makes sense on this level, even if we assume he and Russell were all but married. He can’t bear to be around Russell because she knows and that will colour how she treats him no matter how much she loves him. Furthermore, every time he notices a difference between her behaviour before and her behaviour now, it will remind him of his condition, which he desperately wants to forget. Trudy’s ignorance is therefore one of the most attractive things about her.

After Lizard-McKenna kills her boyfriend, Trudy vanishes from the movie. She was probably the one who called the police, but we never see her again or find out what she thought of the whole thing. This is disappointing because Trudy’s feelings toward McKenna have changed several times over the course of the film – from infatuation to rage to pity and back to infatuation again. I would have liked to see some sort of conclusion to this. If Trudy’s innocence is the main thing McKenna sees in her, it would have been nice to see them interact again after that innocence is shattered, and what effect this change in her has on him.

Also unresolved is the effort to find a cure for McKenna’s condition. A radiation expert, Dr. Hoffman, comes to see McKenna and examines him, and says he thinks he can at least treat this condition if not cure it entirely – but this goes nowhere. The death of Glenn Manning in The Amazing Colossal Man is made extra-sad by the fact that they did have a cure, and that Glenn didn’t understand that they were trying to administer it. It’s an extension of Glenn’s own story, in which the world has not yet given up on him, but he has given up on himself. McKenna is just being chased by the cops, and sure enough, eventually they shoot him. His death is supposed to be a tragedy, but there’s nothing to give it meaning.

So while I do kind of like the ideas in this movie, the execution of them leaves a lot to be desired. I’d actually be interested to see a remake of The Hideous Sun Demon, made by somebody with a bit more talent at writing (and directing… and acting… and basically everything else). There’s gotta be something you could do with a reverse werewolf that would be way cooler than this.

#mst3k #reviews #the hideous sun demon #episodes that never were #50s #you is a warwelf

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goddamnthatponytail · 6 years

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Day 4: King’s Magic + Drunken Shenanigans

I combined two prompts for this day’s theme. Hope everyone enjoys!

Day 4

Title: King’s Magic and Drunken Shenanigans

Theme: Work & Play

Main Ship: Nyx Ulric/OC

Words: 2213

Rating: T, SFW

Warning: There are curse words, and something suggestive.

Summary: Alcohol and Magic Users equals not safe drunken shenanigans.

They warped across the training ground, using the King's magic to get the best of each other. Lyra rolled her eyes as she came to stand next to Crowe. Nyx and Luche were forever competing with each other. They'd only been dating a couple of months, but even she could tell the history of competition ran deep with those two without any explanation needed. Their shift was far from over. They were merely waiting for the reason they had been ordered here all at once. She supposed it was inevitable that one of the Glaive's would have gotten bored after being kept waiting and started something.

Why did it always have to be her boyfriend?

She had received word from her father that the Kingsglaive were deploying, so she'd come to say goodbye to Nyx before he left. Looks like that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Instead, she turned to Crowe. "So how long have they been at this?"

Crowe scoffed, "They started this within 30 minutes of getting here. Loser has to buy drinks when we get back."

Lyra cast a worried brow towards the two men. Nyx had yet to notice her presence, his entire focus on Luche. "Should they even be doing this? You guys are about to deploy."

Crowe shrugged. "Technically, it's training."

She pursed her lips, but let it go. "Alright. Tell Nyx I said to be safe, and I'll see him when he gets back."

Crowe stopped her retreat. "Idiot will be in a bad mood if he found out you stopped by, and he didn't get to see you." She turned to the boys, cupping her hands over her mouth. "Hey, Nyx! It's rude to keep your girlfriend waiting after she's come all the way to see the Hero off!"

Distracted at the mention of Lyra, Nyx looked down at them. His lips pulled into a smile that she reciprocated. Luche, seeing Nyx's distracted form, formed a ball of ice and launched it at Nyx. Nyx came crashing to the ground in surprise, Crowe and Lyra crying foul at Luche. He simply laughed, saying, "Drinks are on you, Hero!"

Lyra helped him up, glancing at him worriedly. "Are you alright?"

He put his arms around her, pulling her to him and giving her a quick hard kiss. He was grinning as he pulled away. "I am now."

Lyra pulled his face down to hers, rubbing his nose with her own in her gesture of affection. "I came to say goodbye."

"I heard," Nyx replied. "What would the boss say if he found out his daughter was disturbing the Kingsglaive during working hours?"

Lyra pursed her lips teasingly this time, giving him a thoughtful look. "Nothing if he found out the Kingsglaive weren't working and were using his magic to win bets."

Nyx opened his mouth to reply, but his Captain made an appearance. "Alright Glaive, form up!" He looked at Nyx and Lyra, who were still wrapped up in each other. "Lyra! Just because you're the Princess doesn't mean you get to bother the Kingsglaive while they're working!"

She glared at Nyx as he covered a laugh with a cough. She disentangled herself from his arms, turning to smile demurely at Titus. "Of course, Uncle. I'll be going now."

She walked past him, turning around to wave at the Kingsglaive cheerily before leaving them to their work.

Lyra slammed back another shot, grinning at Gladio. She was definitely on her way to being drunk. They'd earned it. Today's training session had been extra grueling, having to fight both Ignis and Gladio. Noctis was supposed to have participated, but he'd come down with a cold that morning, so Lyra was left to face them on her own.

She'd lost, but the scratch on Gladio's arm proved she was improving.

She loved training with the guys. They never went easy on her the way other trainers had. Well, Ignis had at first, but that had ended once she'd told him he wasn't doing his job by trying not to hurt her. If there was one thing Ignis hated, it was being told his performance was subpar.

Proud that she had actually landed a hit on him, Gladio had insisted he buy a round of drinks to celebrate the occasion. One bottle had turned into shots, and now they were here, both tipsy enough to get into trouble if they wanted to.

Lyra's phone vibrated, the Princess looking down to see who had messaged her. She squealed, "Look Gladio, Nyx is back!"

Gladio looked at the bright screen, confirming that the Glaive was indeed in Insomnia and looking for his girlfriend. "Better answer him."

She giggled, already typing away:

L: Hi Baby!

N: Hey gorgeous. Where are you?

L: At the bar with Gladio.

N: Gotcha. Some of us are headed to our dive. Want to join?

L: Sure! Come pick me up:)

Lyra looked up from her phone, giving Gladio an apologetic grin. "Nyx is coming for me right now."

Gladio waved away her apology. "Go see your guy. I'll see you at training tomorrow."

Hugging Gladio goodbye, Lyra made her way out of the bar. Unless she was with Nyx, she only ever went to one bar when she wanted to drink. She personally knew the owner, the man being the father of one of her school friends, and he ensured the tabloids wouldn't get a scoop on drunk Lyra. In turn, many of the Citadel workers came to unwind after a long day. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence when the place was filled with Crownsguard sometime during the week.

She spotted Nyx walking down with Pelna, Luche, Crowe, and Libertus. They were the usual gang that Lyra hung around with on nights like these. She waved at Nyx, launching herself into his arms when he was close enough. She gave him a deep kiss, happy to see him.

Nyx pulled back, looking at her with amusement in his eyes. "Someone's drunk."

Lyra giggled. "I'm not drunk, just very tipsy."

"Definitely drunk," Gladio said, walking to them.

She shot a dirty glare at him. "Am not, you great big behemoth."

He shot her a look. "I'm going to kick your ass tomorrow."

Lyra sniffed, lifting her chin and looking away from him. "I'd like to see you try." She grinned at Nyx. "I took down Gladio today."

Gladio rolled his eyes. "You literally got one scratch in before I slammed you to the ground."

Lyra thought about this for a second before shrugging. "I wasn't using my magic."

Noticing the gleam entering Gladio's eyes, Nyx intervened. "Alright, let's not start. I thought we were all headed out for drinks."

Lyra forgot about challenging Gladio to another match. "Yea! Let's go do shots."

Everyone laughed at her enthusiasm, saying their goodbyes to Gladio and headed to their normal hangout. The place was a cheerful hole in the wall on the other side of town that most of the Kingsglaive favored. The bartender wasn't surprised anymore to see the Princess of Lucis walk in and shoot down drinks. She certainly didn't act like a princess when she was with her usual company, but a visit from The Marshall before they'd opened one day had made it clear that the quick Gil they made off a story would not be worth it.

Nyx bought the first couple rounds of shots and drinks as promised from losing his bet to Luche. He'd decided to take it easy and nurse his drink as Lyra was in no state to keep her head straight. Plus, he had fun watching her get along so well with those he considered family.

Crowe turned to Lyra once they'd downed another drink. "So Gladio beat you today in training?"

Luche snorted, "Please, like it's hard."

Nyx tensed, but Lyra was already turning. "I'll have you know that I'm a decent fighter. I'm not a monster like some people." She eyed the people around her. "But I can hold my own. Besides, besides warping, there was no magic involved." She pouted. "Iggy wouldn't let me."

"Must not be very good at either," Luche taunted.

"That's enough," Nyx snapped.

Lyra stood up. "You wanna try me?" Her words were slurring.

Luche was no better as he stood up. "Let's go, Princess. Just don't go crying to Nyx when I beat your ass."

Now Nyx stood, stopping them from coming any closer to each other. "You two are not fighting each other."

Libertus laughed, "Just let them Nyx. You're not her father."

Nyx turned to stare at his friends. They were all drunk and were forgetting exactly who Lyra was and why her getting hurt would be a bad idea. Neither did they take in mind how badly he would beat Luche's ass if she got so much as a scratch. Or maybe they did and just wanted to see Luche get beat up.

Sighing, Nyx wrapped Lyra up in his arms, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Princess, fighting right now is a bad idea. You want to get me in trouble?"

She frowned, trying to process his words. "No…" Then an idea came to mind, and she grinned. "We won't fight. We'll race!" She turned to Luche. "How about it, dickhead? Race to the Citadel?"

Everyone cheered. Nyx groaned and let his forehead fall onto his crazy girlfriend's shoulder.

They made their way out of the bar, their group taking bets. Most bet on Luche winning and that irritated Nyx as no one had actually seen Lyra in action, so how could they judge her ability? Didn't they realize that Lyra had been born with this magic? Crowe, who had practiced with her before, placed hers on Lyra. In her mind, it was easy winnings.

Everyone warped onto a building, blue lights lighting up the street. Crowe nodded at the two to get into position. "The first to get to the Citadel building wins, got it?"

Luche and Lyra nodded, both clutching their weapons. Nyx kept hold of his Kukri, intending to follow and made sure she stayed safe. The two competitors were both intoxicated to all hell. They couldn't even stand still, struggling to stay in position. With their luck, they'd warp straight into the King's bedroom, and the Captain would have all their asses.

Crowe counted off, and they were gone before three even left her mouth. Mouths dropped as Lyra took the lead, having thrown her short sword farther than Luche had thrown his Kukri. Pelna swore, turning to Nyx. "What the hell, man? You training her?"

Nyx rolled his eyes and didn't answer, throwing his Kukri and following his girlfriend. The other Glaive's followed, Libertus' moaning fading into the background. Lyra was fast, her movements graceful, even when drunk. Luche was almost just as quick though, and he hated losing to anyone, especially if the person was Insomnian. Nyx kept up with two, keeping his eyes on them as they approached the Citadel.

When the two warped into the air just before the Citadel, Luche made his move. He hurled a ball of fire at Lyra as she was getting ready to warp to the top. From the height they were at, she would slam into the concrete and severely hurt herself. Nyx couldn't stop the fire, but he could catch her and make sure she landed safely.

Just before the fireball hit Lyra, she brought up a barrier. Blowing Luche a kiss, she threw her short sword to the top of the Citadel and disappeared. Luche yelled in outrage before disappearing as well, Nyx following close behind.

He found them sprawled out at the top, heavy breaths and pale skin a clear sign they had overexerted themselves. He ran to Lyra, helping her sit up and then pulling her into his lap. She grinned at him. "I won!"

He chuckled, able to relax now that everything was done. "Sure did, honey. How'd you know to put up a shield?"

She rolled her eyes in Luche's direction, smirking. "I remember your earlier competition, and I have a brother. Both like to play dirty." She frowned. "Damn, I'm pretty much sober now."

Nyx ran a hand down her back. "Now that you're done playing with Luche, want to go back to my place and play dirty?"

Lyra snorted, "You're so bad." She smiled, pecking him on the mouth. "Let's go."

"Rematch," Luche croaked from his place on the ground.

Nyx covered Lyra's mouth with his hand before she could open it. "No can do, Luche. I have my own plans with the Princess now that she'd done humoring another man."

#nyxulricweek #nyxulricweek2018 #@nyxulricweek #LATE #Day 4 #Work & Play #King's Magic #Drunken Shenanigans #Nyx Ulric #OC #Lyra Lucis Caelum #Luche Lazarus

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 7 years

Text

Just Yours - Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five - Say You Love Me

A/N: Final chapter! (Of part one) Yayyy! I hope you all like it! Please let me know what you think! I’m going to edit the whole thing and release it as one long fic. I definitely meant to make this chapter longer, but it’s kinda perfect just like this, so. I used lines from Jane the Virgin, The Last Five Years, and Nightingale by Demi Lovato. Please, please, let me know what you think! Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader Word Count: 3,346 Synopsis: Final Chapter! Tags: @sergeantdodds, @la-devotees, @amelia-save-me, @evs14u, @cumberbabe92, @sweetsummertime99, @gibbs274, @standing-in-a-downpour

Previous Chapter

Olivia’s hands weren’t the only ones that had blood on them. You finally caught Rafael’s eye, and you let out a sigh of relief when you saw him. His sleeves were rolled up, and he looked frazzled as he spoke to one of the corrections officer. Although the entire court room looked a little bit frazzled.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asked, moving quickly your way.

“I heard there was a shooting. Are you okay?” you asked, touching his arm gingerly.

“Yeah,” he said, although he was looking at you nervously. “Johnny D is dead. Did uh, Liv talk to you?”

“Talk to me about what?” you asked, looking Olivia’s way. She made her way towards you, looking more stressed than anyone in the room.

“Nick was shot. They’re taking him to the hospital right now.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m driving up there now, do you want to come with?”

“Yes.” She nodded and walked towards the door. Rafael looked at you, and you touched his forearm softly again. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He nodded and smiled softly.

“Go to him.” You started walking away, but looked back on him once before leaving.

“Let’s talk later, okay?” He frowned slightly and nodded.

“Okay.”

When you got to the hospital, you met Amanda in the waiting room on Nick’s floor. She hugged you, and smiled comfortably.

“Hey, how is he doing?”

“He’s in surgery. A bullet hit his liver, so they had to do an emergency laparotomy. Now they’re working on his knee,” she replied.

“The liver can heal itself, but a bullet to the knee-” Amanda cut Carisi off by shaking her head. The tall Italian had just walked up, and was already making you feel worse.

“Yeah, I know that,” she said firmly.

“Sorry. I’ll get us some coffee,” he said, scurrying off. The waiting room was filled with fellow officers, each worrying about Nick. Amanda rubbed your arm and smiled at you.

“He’s gonna be okay.” You nodded and sat down next to Fin, who touched your shoulder. He said the same, and you tried to believe it. For the next few hours you sat in the waiting room. Groups of people came and went, but only your squad stayed the entire time.

“Hey, Y/N,” Fin said, sometime around midnight. “I just want to wish you luck in Chicago. I know we’re all gonna miss you a lot-”

“I don’t know if I’m going,” you said quickly. He cocked an eyebrow at you and you sighed, falling back in your seat.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how I can leave all of this,” you said. Fin started to say something about Rafael, but you were pulled away from this conversation when a nurse walked over to your group.

You stood up first, and Olivia was right at your side. She told you that surgery went well, and he was in recovery. It was going to be a few hours before he came to, and she encouraged you all to come back in the morning.

Carisi and Fin decided to head out, and Olivia said that she needed to go home to see Noah. You of course understood, considering everything that had happened today, she wanted nothing more than to see her son. And unfortunately, Amanda had to go home to let out Frannie.

Olivia told you not to stay here by yourself, but you weren’t going to leave. Once everyone left, you texted your dad and your brother, to tell them that you were going to be here for longer. You also texted Graham, who had been here a few hours ago, just to update him on everything.

An empty hospital room at one in the morning was a good place for you to think, and you had a lot of thinking to do. You didn’t know what you would have done if Rafael had been the one to get hurt. It was bad enough to sit out here knowing that your best friend was in there, but if it was -

You stopped yourself before you let any tears fall. You told yourself that Rafael was safe. Yet, you didn’t feel any better. Even if he made it through this moment, who knew if there would be more.

Rafael may not be safe forever, and he wasn’t going to wait forever, either.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” a blonde nurse with a kind smile asked. You nodded and politely smiled. She went behind the counter and grabbed you a blanket, and gave it to you, although you protested.

After the day you were having, and all of the thoughts swirling around your head, you didn’t think you would fall asleep. However, when you woke up again, you were face to face with Zara, and Nick’s mother, Cesaria.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a laugh. You sat up and stretched, noticing the sunlight coming through the windows. You smirked at her as she threw her arms around you. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, cutie. You have to tell me all about California.” Zara opened her mouth to start, but her Abuela cut her off.

“In a little bit. Someone else needs Y/N’s attention right now.” At that moment, it suddenly dawned on you that Nick was probably awake now.

“He’s up?” you asked.

“Yes. And he’s been asking to see you.” You stood up, hugged Zara once more, and patted down your hair before walking in to the hospital room.

Nick was propped up in bed, looking tired, but happy. He smiled at you, and you took his outstretched hand quickly. You kissed his hand and he laughed.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you said.

“I’m glad you’re here. But I don’t know why you stayed here all night.”

“I didn’t stay here all night.” Nick cocked an eyebrow at you and called your bluff.

“That’s not what the nurses said.”

“Well can you blame me? My best friend was just shot by a serial rapist and pimp, I’m not gonna abandon him.”

“You’re a good friend, Y/N.” You smiled again and looked down at your hand in his. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“About that, Nick-”

“Although, I’ve been thinking, and maybe we don’t have to be that far apart. I know that I’m going to be off for a while because of my knee, and I just heard back that the department doesn’t want to promote me.”

“Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I honestly think it’s for the best. This injury and the news has got me thinking. I don’t think I’m going to stay in New York. I mean, Zara and Gil are both in California. There’s not much here for me. I figure I might as well put in for retirement, and start over in California.”

“That sounds really great, Nick.” He smiled and squeezed your hand.

“I’m glad you said that, because it could be a new start for you, too. I know you were set on going to Chicago, but I think California could be great for you, too. You won’t be lonely because you’ll see Zara and I’ll be there, and,” he stopped and laughed for a moment, while you watched him in surprise.

“And I’ve always loved you, Y/N. California could be the time and place where we-”

“Nick!” you said, pulling your hand away. “I’ve already put in for transfer to CPD. Mike is there, I couldn’t.”

“Hey, hey, just think about it, okay?” he said, smiling at you, and before you knew it, he was leaning in to kiss you. Kissing Nick used to leave you breathless and flushed. Not that it didn’t now, but it wasn’t the same feeling. It wasn’t the feeling that you felt with another man.

“Nick,” you said, pulling away, putting a hand on his chest. “I’m going to ask Rafael to marry me.”

“But didn’t he just-”

“Yes,” you said, grinning as you stood up. “But this is what I want. I should never have taken this job in Chicago. Rafael is everything I want.” He looked disappointed, so you sat back down on his side quickly. “I’ll always love you, too, Nick, but-”

“You don’t have to explain. I am happy for you.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Nick.”

“He better know how lucky he is.”

Rafael walked into the precinct Sunday night, more than a little bit irritated. He had hoped that after the case of Johnny D, he would get a few days off. However, Olivia had different ideas as she called him in.

As he walked in, he noticed that all of the lights were dimmed. The front desk was empty, and he heard phones ringing from somewhere in the back. He smiled to himself as he walked deeper into the squad room.

“What kind of budget cuts are thes-”

"Hi.” Rafael stopped breathing for a moment when he caught a glimpse of you. You were standing in front of the cork board that he had given so many presentations in front of before. There were candles lit all around the room, making you glow, and look even more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. You were wearing a blue dress, and your hair was up, and you looked incredibly nervous.

“Hi,” he said, walking closer to you until he was close enough to see the tears that were brimming in your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to be brave.”

“Brave?” he asked, although it came out in a squeak.

“Yes. I thought that going to Chicago was the right decision, that it was the grown up decision. I thought that putting my career forward was more important than anything. But, I learned that going to Chicago won’t change anything. I’ll still be a detective, I’ll still rise up in rank as I would here. The only thing that would be different is you. I learned that I don’t ever want to lose you, Rafael.”

“But what about Mike, what about-”

“I can visit,” you said, shaking your head. “I was terrified today that I might lose you, and I don’t want to feel like that. So.” You took a deep breath, and struggled to get down on your knees in the heels you were wearing. Rafael reached out his hand and made you stand up.

“You don’t have to kneel. You don’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, I do. Now, I had a speech prepared, so let me say it.” Rafael laughed softly but nodded. “So, I propose a new deal. We’ve made many in our time together, first when we started hooking up, and then when we decided to give dating a try, but I think - hope this deal will be our last.

“I propose that you and I spend the rest of our lives together. It doesn’t matter where we go, or what we do, as long as we’re by each other’s sides. I propose that we love each other no matter what, through whatever ups and downs we may face. I propose that we get married because I really want to see you in more tuxedos, and I couldn’t even last a week apart from you. I couldn’t imagine a life without you.”

Rafael laughed a little as he smiled at you. He could feel tears forming in his eyes, but tried to hold them back.

“I don’t know why people run. I don’t know why people are afraid to fall in love. I don’t know why things fall through. I don’t know how anybody survives in this life without someone like you.

“I could run, I could let this fall through, I could survive a life without you; but why? Why, why, why? I want to be your wife! I want to bear your child! I want to die knowing I had a long, full life in your arms. I want to spend forever with you.” You took a deep breath and Rafael opened his mouth to say something else, but you cut him off by holding up your hand.

“I’m not done yet. Before I propose to you, I need you to know all the facts. You need to know that I’m sorry for breaking up with you, even if it was only for a week. You need to know that I love you more than I have ever loved someone in my life, and it was hell to turn you down. And most importantly, you need to know why I love you.

“I don’t love you because you’re smart, and clever, and handsome, and caring. I love you because you’re my best friend. You’re my sanity. Everything that we’ve been through has tested us, proven to us that we are meant to be together, that no matter what happens, we’ll always have each other’s backs.

“You bring me peace. You make me a better person. You’re never selfish, you never want anything from me, you love me for me,” you said, as you started to cry fully. “When I told you about Chicago, you wanted me to go. You are the most supportive man I have ever known, and you’re my dream.

“And there are so many dreams that I need to see with you. There are so many years that I need to be with you. I will never be complete until,” you took another breath and noticed that Rafael was crying at this point, too.

“Rafael, will you marry me?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, laughing. You laughed too and wrapped your around his neck, as you finally kissed. It was wet, as you were both crying pretty hard, and you were both smiling too much, but it was perfect.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too, cariño.” He kissed you again, and this time he heard the applause. He turned his head and saw the entire squad standing in Liv’s office, watching the whole thing. Rafael laughed and shook his head. You shrugged and put your hands up in mock surprise.

Rafael waved them over, and soon you were both met with a wave of hugs and congratulations.

“I called it,” Fin said when he came up to you. You laughed and Carisi smiled from behind him.

“He did. He said you two would get married.”

“So I take it it was good news?” You turned around and saw your dad and brother walking into the precinct. You nodded and they both grinned as they hugged you.

“Congratulations!” They then went over to Rafael and shook his hand, before hugging. You smiled as Nick wrapped his arm around you. You leaned against his chest and he kissed your forehead.

“I’m happy for you, Y/N.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“He better treat you well or I’ll beat his-”

“Okay, Nick,” you said, looking up at him. “I know he will.” He kissed your forehead again and you hugged him.

“Oh, I gotta call Zara and Graham. I promised I’d keep them posted.” You laughed and nodded as he hobbled away on his crutches. You found Rafael again and you kissed. Your friends cheered again, and you smiled, even though you were already smiling. You smiled more.

“Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be in love with you?”

“It might have come up,” you said. Rafael laughed and leaned in to kiss you, this time keeping his hand on the back of your head to make it last longer. “I am the lucky one though. I found a man who loves suspenders as much as I do.” Rafael laughed heartily and kissed your temple.

“You and your weird kinks.”

“Come on, babe. If you don’t hurry up we’ll be late to Liv’s,” you said as you put on your earrings in the mirror. Rafael groaned from the other room and you heard the bed creak.

“Or,” he said, snaking his arms around your waist, startling you slightly. “You could come back to bed.” You spun around and put your hands on his bare chest.

“We need to celebrate with Liv. This is a really happy occasion.”

“It was a happy occasion in there, too,” he grumbled, walking back into your bedroom. You laughed and followed him, only to grab your dress from the closet. You slipped on the silky dress, and went into the bathroom.

“Mi amor,” Rafael gushed as he walked in. You rolled your eyes as he slid his hand across your back. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you. I have the best accessory to go with it, too.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked. You nodded and he smiled, knowing exactly what you were going to say. You drew up your hand and showed him the ring again.

“Doesn’t it just look amazing with everything?”

“It’s not the ring,” he said, kissing you happily.

“With talk like that, you might get me to stay.” Rafael grinned and wrapped his arms around you tighter, looking up at you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Our wedding is going to be a magical event everyone will remember for years to come.” You hummed happily and kissed him.

“Rafi, we have to go,” you said, pulling yourself away from him. He groaned, and let you walk away. “Be downstairs in seven minutes, or we’ll be late,” you said, trotting down the stairs.

About half and hour later, after coaxing Rafael downstairs, falling on the couch together, and then coaxing each other out of the house, you arrived at Olivia’s. She hugged you both when you walked in, and you were soon holding Noah. Rafael smiled at you and you bumped his hip as you swayed with Noah in your arms.

“Do you wanna hold him?”

“No thanks,” Rafael said. You raised your eyebrows at him and he laughed. “I don’t do so well with kids. Although, I’m sure when we have kids I’ll do better.” For some reason you blushed and he kissed you quickly.

“I love you,” you whispered as Carisi walked over, bringing along Fin and Olivia’s babysitter, Lucy. You all cooed over Noah and Liv smiled on happily. Eventually, you gave him back to his mother, who beamed up into his face. Carisi scurried into the kitchen and got everyone a glass of champagne.

“Congratulations, Liv, you look happy,” Fin said. You all nodded in agreement, and Olivia smiled, as happy tears formed in her eyes.

"Amaro coming?” Rafael asked.

“He’s doing better, right?” Carisi asked

“Yeah, he’s only two weeks in to PT so it’s gonna be a long road.”

“But he is doing a lot better,” you said. At that moment, the door swung open, and Amanda and Nick walked in, although Nick had to hobble in on his crutches.

“Hey, you guys started without us.”

“Nick, Amanda, thank you for coming,” Olivia said, meeting them halfway. They handed her a bouquet of flowers and she hugged them. You all milled around together, talking with each other. You watched as Nick walked with Olivia into the kitchen, and you figured he was giving her the speech he gave you, minus a few details.

When they came back over, they both looked as if they’d been crying. You all circled around, ready to toast to everything that you had been through. The last year had been hell on all of you, but you made it through together.

“I just want to thank you all for being here,” Olivia said. ”I couldn’t have done any of this without you, and as a dear friend recently told me,” she said, looking at Nick. “Friends for life.” She held up her glass and you all raised your own.

“Friends for life,” you all repeated, clinking your glasses together. You locked eyes with Rafael as you took a drink. He laced his hand in yours, and stepped closer to you.

“And to a wonderful life with you,” he said. You clinked your glasses together again, and kissed instead of drinking to your toast.

“Forever and ever.”

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ilyasvieltrevelyanshepard · 7 years

Text

Polaris

First work I publish here! I’m thinking of continuing it with a bit of smut, time will see :P http://archiveofourown.org/works/11679621

Storm clouds dotted the sky above Kadara Port when the Tempest reaches it. They have been running around the cluster searching for stealing probes. The team need a bit of R&R, and Kadar is the closest area with a bar. Hope is not very happy about the situation, but she doesn't have the heart to make her team endure another week on the ship just for fear of seeing Reyes again. Fucking Reyes Vidal.

Their last meeting has been a tense one, just after the incident in the caves where she discovered that he was, in fact, the Charlatan. She broke with him in his dark corner on the Tartarus, and she had felt broken and empty since then. She is lucky, the system is still a mess, and she had her hands full of work and important things to do, but the nights… The nights are filled with what ifs and doubts.

The group is already gathered on the cargo bay. Even Gil had decided to join them for a while, only Suvi and Kalo will remain on the ship. Vetra made Hope promise to give it a try and get some fun with them, promising her to maintain Liam and Jaal away from her.

When she joins them beside the Nomad, Cora is already making faces. She never liked the Port, and after Reyes’ incident, she even hates it more. Hope is still zipping up her jacket when Drack hit her shoulder, making her stutter. “Come on, kid. Try to have some fun. I can share some of my private stashes with you if you need it.”

Peebee laughs at her other side, while Cora just crosses her arms, facing Drack. “You are not going to poison the Pathfinder, old man. Maintain the ryncol on your glass.”

Vetra leaves her office then, raising her hands. “Enough, you too. Tonight she isn't the Pathfinder, and we are not her team. We are a group of friends with a high need for fun. If she wants to drink ryncol until she can't walk, let her be.”

Hope smiles to her. The turian has turned soon enough to her best friend. Her mind is even quicker than hers, and she had a heart greater than the Nexus. When Vetra extends a hand, Hope takes it and let her guide the team to the Kralla’s Song, where Umi has been saving the table beside the windows for them. Someone has sent a couple of bottles of whiskey for them, and even when they knew who has been, no one said a word about it. An hour later, they stand to order more alcohol, having finished with the whiskey, the ryncol and the turian wine. Sara was at the bar with Vetra when a group of humans nears them. “You, Nexus scum. You will pay for Sloane’s death!” Umi shrugs, muttering a ‘Try not to break my bar, please’, before moving away from them.

With a sigh, Hope turns to face them, the alcohol making her feel braggy. “I only count eight of you. Do you want to call some friends?”

The first one launches himself against her with a ‘Nexus bitch’ in his mouth. Hope dodges him easily, using his energy to crush his face against the counter. The group on the table are cheering and clapping. One of them takes off a knife from his boot, making her laugh. The concealed Asari sword she always wears when walking around Kadara is more than twice longer than his knife, and when she takes it off, she gives him a lopsided grin. “Mine is bigger, you moron.”

After that, the fight ends quickly. Two of them charged against Vetra, how breaks the nose of the first and dislodges booth arms of the second. Hope activates her powers, launching a vortex over the far end of the group, raising them from the ground and leaving them floating on air. Charging against the one with the knife, she hits his chest with booth fist, hard enough to feel the breaking of bones under her knuckles. Disappearing and reappearing behind the one that remains on his feet, she put her sword on his neck. “Your tyrant master has gone. You need to learn who gives the order now.”

Umi has called for some help, and as soon as the knees of the men in front of her touch the floor, the door opens, and Keema appears, followed by a group of Angaran and Humans. “Good night, Pathfinder. I see that you had your own Welcome party. Mind if I join?”

“Hello, Keema. Nice to see you. Suit yourself. We have a lot of idiots to play with, choose the one you like more, I'm not picky.”

The group is quickly shackled and take away from the bar, leaving the area almost untouched. The smear of blood on the counter the only signal of their struggle after they repositioned the few chairs that her attack had moved. Umi serves her another shot of whiskey with a soft smile. “Thanks for doing it without breaking anything this time, Ryder.”

Hope drinks it in a long gulp, the heat of it burning her insides. “I'm still paying for the last one, don't want to add more debts to my tab.”

Drack’s voice reaches her, “Thehehehehehe, that was a good fight, kid.”

Keema moves near the table, exchange pleasantries with them before sitting beside Jaal, intent clear on her body language. Vetra turns to face her, mandibles flapping while she purrs softly. “The night is getting better and better, Hope!”

She nods, ordering the alcohol they wanted to order before the brawl. She lets Vetra move the bottles to the table while she takes another shot with Umi. The barmaid moves closer to her, whispering just for her. “You haven't seen Reyes yet, right?” Her answer is a shake of her head before she downs the glass. “Well, I know I'm talking out of place, but Reyes has been good to me since we reached this place, and your breakup-- let's say he is not himself since then.”

“He buried his own grave when he lied to me.”

Umi refills her glass, crossing her arms in front of her after putting the bottle down. “Everyone has a secret, Hope. I'm sure you have one too, like every single soul in this cluster.”

She drowns the shot in a single gulp. “Maybe, but it didn't hurt less for knowing it, Umi.” When Vetra returns beside her, she feels the mood has changed and is less than surprised when Hope says the next words. “I'm going back to the Tempest after a short walk. Have fun here.”

Before Cora can open her mouth, Vetra turned to the table. “Let her be, Harper. She can take care of herself out there.” The other woman just grunts to her before returning her attention to nurse her glass. Hope squeezes Vetra's hand softly before waving to them. She will send Umi the credits they spend tomorrow morning.

Climbing the stairs to the door, she opens it with her omni before stepping outside, the cold air of the night making goose bumps appears on her skin. She walks to the railway near the stairs, leaning on them and enjoying the cold breeze while she enjoys the view. The moon glows brightly in Kadara, and its light shines on the lakes’ surfaces. Thanks to its light, Hope can see someone sitting on one of the platforms of the Port. She didn’t need to come close to say who it was. Reyes is drinking alone, resting his back in a crate with a leg hanging over the edge. She feels as if someone was grasping her heart and squeezing it. It's been almost two months since they moved in opposite directions after the cave incident. They had exchanged a couple of cold emails, talking about the Port and the outpost, but nothing more. She knows it was her fault. He tried to contact her via vidcomm for days, and she had ignored his calls, nursing her heart alone in her quarters and trying to glue it back together. Sadly for her, it didn’t work. She feels as heartbroken and hollow as the day she left the Tartarus after breaking with him. What to do? Her masochist side wants to go there and say ‘hi’, but her coward part didn’t want to give him the chance to talk her back to his side. She is looking in his general direction, worrying a nail between her teeth. Suddenly, a movement on her periphery catches her eyes, and she finds him watching her and waving a hand. Hope blushes, returning the gesture timidly before running from him with the tail between legs. With a quick pace, she almost runs to the door that leads to the docks, wanting nothing more than to hide inside the Tempest. When the door opens, and she moves closer to the ship access, a gasp leaves her when she finds Reyes waiting for her near the door. “Hello, Reyes. Do you want anything?” Her tone is cold and measured, even when she is fighting the worse inner war of her life on the inside.

He sighs before moving closer to her. “I want a lot of things, Hope. But I can't have them. I came to give you a present, and then I will leave you alone because is obvious that you don't want company, at least mine.”

Hope has to lower her gaze, his voice is doing something with her heart, and she didn't want for him to see it. “I'm just tired, Reyes.”

Moving a hand, he captures hers and moves it until it rested between them. Searching inside of his pocket, he picks off a little pendant depicting the Ursa Minor. A little jewel has been added to it to be the Polaris star, hanging from the rest with a short chain. Putting it in her hand, he closes her fingers around it, moving his free hand to cup her face. “You always will be my Polar Star, my north in this crazy galaxy.” He takes a step back, letting his hand fall to his side. “Rest well.” He walks away from her, turning just before the door closes behind him. “Goodbye, Hope.”

Hope is fighting back the tears when Suvi opens the door and walks to her, hugging her without saying a word. The tears begin to flow as soon as she wraps her arms around Suvi. The young scientist just holds her, hands caressing her hair and back. When Hope starts to recover her breath, Suvi moves to arm's distance from her, hands still grasping her shoulders. “I called Vetra as soon as I saw him here. She will be here ve--” just then the doors behind them open again and soon another set of arms wraps around her.

Hope leans against her best friend, head resting on her shoulder. “Sorry for disturbing your free night.”

“Yeah, yeah. Is not like I wasn't starting to get bored of hearing Drack tell his war stories, again.” Suvi is still with them, and the young scientist tilts her head signalling the door before moving inside. Vetra pushes Hope until she starts to move, bringing her inside until they reach her quarters. She walks directly to the bed, falling into it face first, hands still closed in fists. Vetra locks the door behind her, moving to the SAM node on the desk. “SAM, can you show me the recording of the last interaction between Reyes and the Pathfinder?”

The AI didn't ask Hope’s permission for this, showing Vetra a first person point of view of her moments since she left Kralla’s Song. “I have some readings of her and Mister Vidal, too.”

“No need, thank you, SAM.” Vetra returns to the bed, sitting on it and forcing Hope to lay on her back. “Let me see it.”

Hope opens her fingers, hand trembling when she shows the jewel to Vetra. The turian picks it up, the pendant hanging from the chain. The silhouette of the Ursa minus done in some dark metal, shining under the ambient light. A short chain at the end of it leads to a white jewel. The design is beautiful, almost as its meaning. Vetra recovers Hope’s hand and pushes her up until they are sitting one in front of the other. She hangs the pendant just in front of her face. “After this, do you still doubt him?”

Hope raises a hand, taking the little jewel between her fingers. “I doubt myself, Vetra. I don’t believe I can survive another lie. I’m still licking my wounds from the last one.”

Vetra gives Hope the pendant back and cups her face in her hands, talons scratching her scalp softly. “What do you think he has been doing the past weeks? Keema says that he only leaves his office at nights and has turned himself into a workaholic.”

“Ruling a planet can be stressful.”

She tries to sound angry while moving away from Vetra’s grasp, but she has always been of the resilient type, and follows her movement, still cupping her face and making her look directly into her eyes. “Can you stop being the Pathfinder for a moment, Hope? We are fighting to give a place to live and prosper to all the people on the Nexus. Can you try to save a little corner of it for yourself?” Vetra let her face go, leaning her hands on her shoulders. “What did your mother told you before she died?”

“To fall in love. To find someone who can look at me like Dad looked to her.”

Vetra raises her head with a finger on her chin. “And that you did, my friend. Now stop being the stubborn Pathfinder and let’s Hope to go and be happy with the man she loves.”

“But--”

Raising her from the bed, Vetra picks her in her arms, moving to the door. “No but here, Hope. You will have a chat with Reyes tonight. I will take you to his door myself if I have to.” When Vetra senses a pat on her back, she puts her down but remains stubbornly positioned in front of her. “Spirits! You have been in love with him almost from the first moment you set your eyes on him! You can throw yourself against an Architect without batting an eyelid, but you are afraid to talk with a man who is clearly in love with you?”

Hope is still grasping the pendant in her hand, and she lowers her gaze to look at it for a second. “And what can I say to him, Vetra? I left him. I ignored him for weeks, only answering his official calls, avoiding any direct contact--”

With a push on her shoulder, Vetra starts to move her again to the door. “And even after all this, he came to see you and give you a present with more meaning that you want to believe.”

“Everyone hates him. I will have a hard time on the Tempest if I do what you ask for.”

Still pushing her outside the room, Vetra just laughs. “That’s not true at the very least, Hope. Maybe Cora hates him, but she hates everyone who plays outside of her rulebooks. And Liam, well, he is just jealous, but he likes how Reyes deals with the problems. Gil wants to bang him, and Peebee too. Lexi loved the smile he put on your face before the cave. Suvi likes him too. He sent her a bag of Angaran tea as soon as you talked with him about her addiction. Kalo is Kalo and didn’t count. Drack respects him, and that’s a big thing for the old man. And for myself, I knew him from before the long journey. I can’t hate him for doing what was necessary.” Hope didn’t look very convinced by her words. “I will deal with Cora and Liam, don’t worry about that. Remember that I control the kitchen supplies. No beer and no chocolate for them if they didn’t let you be on this.”

Hope has to laugh at her words. “You are a cruel woman, my friend. But even if I can force myself to go and talk to him, I don’t know where to find him.”

SAM joins the conversation just then. “I have used the sensors of the Tempest to find him, Ryder. He is in an apartment near here. Sending the directions to your omnitool.”

Hope just sighs, taking another look at her hand before changing her focus to the door. “Do you really think he will accept me again?”

Vetra’s mandibles trembled with a little purr, “Spirits, you can’t be that blind, right? SAM, project the moment when he talks to her after giving her the jewel. No need for sound.” A clear image of Reyes appears on the big screen near the door. He is looking at her with something she can’t identify, but his grin turns to a sad one when he moves away from her. “See? Why can’t you see it? I’m not even human and can recognise the feeling.”

With a last look to the screen, Hope faces the door with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go and talk with him. Wish me luck.”

“Girl, you didn’t need luck for that. Go and pathfind the way to his heart!”

Hope giggles to her, “You need to stop talking about me with Sid. Thanks, Vetra. For all.”

Vetra opens the door and walks with her to the cargo bay. “You are more than welcome, my friend. See you in the morning.”

The door closed behind her, leaving her in the darkness of the docks. Taking a deep breath, she opens the screen of her omnitool. SAM directions show clearly on it. ‘I don’t have anything to lose…’ After another breath, she starts to go down the ramp, moving to the docks’ door. The apartment is near the Headquarters, and she makes a quick job of the distance, spending only a couple of minutes to reach the door. Once in front of it, her heart starts to hammer in her chest like crazy. ‘I can do it. Whatever happens, at least I will have some kind of closure.’ Raising her free hand, she knocks at the door and starts to worry her lower lip when the seconds move away, and no answer came from the inside. She knocks again, and after a minute without a reply, she lets go a defeated sigh before turning to go.

Hope is a couple of steps away when the door opens, a shirtless Reyes on the doorframe with a surprised frown on his face. “You came.” She is munching her nails with a nervousness he never saw on her. “Please, come inside. I suppose you want to talk.”

With a nod, she follows him inside, locking the door behind her. The apartment is not a big one. It has a little kitchenette with a tiny table for two, a big bed and a door at the wall that must be the bathroom. He sits on the bed, waiting for her to choose a place. She decides to remain standing in front of him. A minute or two passed with the room filled with silence, and their gazes fixed on one another. Taking a deep breath while the words of her mother resound on her brain, she raises her hand and let the pendant fall, chain fixed between her fingers. “Do you mean it?”

“I do.”

She closes her eyes and lowers the hand. “Why now?”

Hope can hear him sighing and shifting on the bed. “Because after falling for you through the void, through stars and dark space, I hit the ground and finally accepted that I’m in love with you.” He sees her catching her breath while he continues. “I know that I destroyed what we have, but wanted to let you know that you were, are, and will be, someone very dear to me. You make me want to be a better man, and to be worthy of you, I decided to use your light to navigate in my own darkness.”

A shackling sob leaves her, and a second after he ends talking, Reyes finds himself pinned against the bed by a crying Hope. His arms move immediately to her back, hugging her like he wanted to do for the long weeks they stayed apart. After almost ten minutes of crying, Hope finally calm herself enough to talk to him, still laying on his chest. “Walking away from you has been one of the hardest things I ever did. It felt like someone was pulling from my heart with every step. But I tried to steel myself, thinking about how you lied to me about who you were all this time--”

Reyes cuts her words with a finger on her lips. “I never lied about who I was with you, who I wanted to be. In fact, I never was more ‘me’ than with you. I had hide things, of course I did it, and how sorry I am for doing it. But I wanted you to like me, just Reyes, dreamed of you loving me for who I am.”

Hope sits back on her heels, cleaning her tears-stained cheeks with her scarf. “Here.” She moves the pendant in front of his face. “Is not a formal present if you didn’t put it around my neck.”

Taking the jewel on his hands, Reyes sits beside her, while she gives him her back to help him. Hope has taken off her scarf, opening the zip of the jacket a bit. She can feel the pendant touching her skin and the soft caress of his fingers when he closes the chain around her neck. Moving a hand to touch the little jewel, she closes her eyes. “I spent the past weeks trying to prepare myself for when I crash against the reality of having lost you, knowing that it was entirely my fault. You opened your heart to me in that cave, and my answer was a bitter one, unleashing against you all the venom I had received from Sloane. You call me your light, but you are my haven. The lighthouse I need to survive in the vastness of the space. I’ve been running away from you, thinking that I destroyed the only chance I will get to be happy on this cluster.”

Reyes wraps his arms around her, kissing her temple lovingly. “I had enough time away from you to think about what I want, what I crave, what I need. And the only answer is you.”

Turning in his arms, Hope closes the distance to his mouth, caressing his lips softly with hers. “I love you, Reyes Vidal.”

Reyes’ hand moves to her nape, fingers interlacing with her hair. “Te quiero, Hope Ryder.” And he puts his heart and soul in their first true kiss, one intertwined with feelings and maybe some regrets, but with a sweet aftertaste of dreams and plans.

#mass effect andromeda fanfiction #reyes vidal #female ryder #love #declarations of love

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

The King’s Dumu Lugal Pt 13 (CasGil, Hakuno)

Previously: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

____

“Gil?”

He could sense her like a limb, feeling her close to his side before he turned around. The city that they had arrived in, the world of golden splendor and rich colors, had become their home for the time being. Today would be their first time venturing out, their attire covering their human features compared to these strangers that stood around them.

Turning around, he felt his breath stop.

“I think this is the first time I’ve gotten you to make that face,” she teased, standing before him in the white fabrics that looked like they belonged to that Roman emperor they’d met before. Her brown hair was curling around her shoulders, her fringe threatening to fall over her eyes as she looked up at him with those golden brown eyes of hers. More than anything, he saw his necklace around her neck, his traveling king’s necklace that he’d set upon her after their night of sexual escapades.

“Uruk jewelry suits you,” he forced out, pressing his hands to the windowsill of the train.

“And that’s the first compliment I think I’ve ever gotten from you. Are you feeling alright, Gil? Is the humidity getting to you?”

Her gloved hand met his forehead, but he didn’t let it linger.

No, rather- he clasped it with his own and began to lead her down to their train compartment for the journey.

“You’re being a fool, Hakuno. I give you what compliments are due.”

“Do you? What compliments have you given?”

“If you cannot remember then why should I care to tell you any further? Are you looking to become like that fool, Rin? Are you so incapable of being as you are, free from the burden of requiring compliments to support any ego you may possess?”

She pulled him to a stop as more of the shadowy figures passed on the train. Her magic helped to remain concealed from their attentions, just as it had for the hotel and their lives thus far in this place.

“I still don’t get why we don’t just take Vimana.”

“Pleasure, Hakuno. We do this for pleasure. Why use our own resources when we can utilize this world’s own?”

“You are my pleasure. This is just superfluous.”

Gilgamesh opened his eyes, staring up at the canopy over his head.

He was her pleasure.

Ah, but his little woman could say that so well to him. What he needed was for her to say that again. Once more, just for him.

Looking to the pillows at his side, he found nothing of her presence. Merely the slightest indentation showed that anyone had been there, although the crease was deep and large enough to no doubt be his own.

“Hakuno!”

“We’re in here!”

Caster moved to stand up, grabbing his bathrobe from behind the door and noting the empty crib. He could see Hakuno pacing in the living room, rocking the young boy in her arms as she went.

“Hakuno, it’s still nighttime.”

“Ur was beginning to wake up and starting to make noises. He was about to cry when I went to him.” She waved a hand. “Go on back to bed. I’ll come back in a bit.”

She would not come back and they both knew that. She was barely dressed, wearing only his establishment vacation shirt at the moment. Her hair was tied back sloppily, her eyes rimmed in fatigue.

“Do you do this often?”

“He is little,” she told him simply.

“Let me see the boy.”

The moment he reached for the boy, he found her pulling away, her arms pressing him closer to her chest. The shift gave him a better view now.

She was comfort nursing.

“Hakuno-“

“It’s fine, Gil. Go back to bed.”

“The boy is old enough to be having mashed food. He doesn’t need to-“

“He’s fine, Gil,” she told him again, her voice growing firmer.

He was fine. That was true. However, Hakuno was not. The woman was swaying slightly. Her eyes kept threatening to close as she held their son to herself more and murmured to him about how good he was.

Once more, he had to remember that she was unaccustomed to help. Gudako and the others had done a great disservice to the woman by isolating her and leaving the boy to her care alone. A babysitter could only help in such a way.

“Hakuno,” Caster addressed, softening his voice now. His hands reached out, slowly, going for her back rather than the child now. He could feel her brown hair tickling at her neck, teasing his hands as he began to rub soothing circles just there.

“Go back to sleep,” she tried again.

“I cannot sleep without my wife,” he murmured. “I need my beautiful woman who suits Uruk jewelry in my bed.”

The small smile looked forced, but he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

“Sit with me on the sofa at least. Let me hold you while our son soothes his own night hour blues away.”

“Gil-“

He kissed her again, soft, fleeting kisses. They quelled her arguments into dormancy, leaving her trailing after him as he guided her path to the plush cushions of the sofa. He lowered himself to the seating first, bringing her into his arms and rewarding her tired presence with more of those longer, lovelier lip locks that she seemed so fond of.

This was not how he had imagined the early morning hours, considering that the clock on the mantel in the room flashed a three in the morning time at them.

“He needed me,” Hakuno murmured.

“He is a baby, he needs both his parents. Since he is from me, I will warn that he will no doubt need you until you are on your death bed. I find time to pray to my mother each evening, sometimes several times in a day.”

“Hmm?”

“Did I not mention it before? My mother is a goddess.”

“I… I didn’t think you prayed at all,” she confessed.

Caster flicked at her forehead.

“Gil!”

“Do you think I lack principle? She gave me life. She did what she could for me at any time I had need of her. I pay my dues as all sons do. Ur will be no different. I imagine he’ll cling to your ankles when I go to teach him magic.”

“He doesn’t need to learn magic.”

He would, but that was an argument for another night.

Caster pulled the woman in more, his lips finding her neck. “You need rest, Hakuno.”

“I rest better with Ur close.”

“You make me tempted to force my master to take you away for an obligatory few hours each day for resting and doing something elsewhere in Chaldea.”

“Absolutely not. I did having you babysit. You took Ur to Uruk.”

Did they not review this?

It was the means to an end and have gone over perfectly. She had managed what she had needed in that time and would have been unable to help if she had stopped. The smell alone that Hakuno had possessed had been a good sign that his decision had been fore the best.

“You have to trust me, Hakuno.”

“I trust you.”

Did she?

Gilgamesh glanced at Ur again, noting his head leaning against her chest. Almost sensing it, he turned his gaze up to see her watching him, knowing without words what he was thinking.

That bemused stare trying to sear him into inaction did nothing.

“This is our child,” he pointed out, running a hand over Ur’s back and pulling Hakuno closer. “Yours and mine. That means that when he makes a mistake, it is also my mistake. When he speaks ill, it is also I who speaks ill.”

“He is still learning though. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“True, but I have this woman, this wife, you see.” He pressed his lips to hers again, pulling Ur a little closer to himself. “She thinks she’s all alone in this, far too accustomed to being the martyr for our boy. She fails to see that Ur is our son. There are nights where I should be the one climbing to their feet and pacing around the living room.”

The boy made a happy sigh, those red eyes opening only for a moment as he pulled him from her arms.

“You should be admiring your boys, the man whom you took pleasure in and the son you dared to give to this world, and should be more selfish.”

“I’m selfish by wanting you both with me.”

Ah, but that was selfless, since all she did was give, wasn’t it?

He pulled the blanket down from the back of the couch, wrapping it around Ur and cooing to him as Hakuno rested against his side. Her hands brushed back the wispy blond hairs from the boy’s head, her voice gentle as she praised him.

“Tomorrow night, should he cry, you need to awaken me.”

“You died from a lack of sleep, Gil. I heard it from Gudako.”

“And you’re still alive. Isn’t that convenient?” He stole those lips, nipping the lower one as he pulled back. “From dusk until dawn, Ur’s actions are my responsibility.”

“What about during the day?”

“I suppose the diapers may be yours. Since you are so adamant on coddling him.”

The bickering ensued, entertaining in their own way until she closed those eyes of hers and began to drift off. He had to pull the two close, carrying them back to bed and setting Hakuno down so he could pull Ur from her arms and set him back in his crib.

The boy was quite happy, spoiled beyond all measure.

He rocked the crib when he awakened for breakfast. Looking through his gates, he found the dress he had dreamed of Hakuno wearing.

Had there been no blood staining it, he’d have let her wear it.

What happened, he wondered to himself again.

“Gil?”

He kicked the dress beneath the bed, pulling out a set of robes from Uruk and smirking proudly.

“What’s this?”

“Today is breakfast with all of Chaldea,” he declared, smirking. “Get dressed, Hakuno. You’ve hidden away with Ur for long enough.”

#drabble #drabbles

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lilithhawthorne · 7 years

Text

Title: Blood of the Brotherhood Fandom: Mass Effect: Andromeda Relationship: Sara Ryder x Jaal Rating: M Chapter: 8/? Cross posted on AO3 / FFN First // Previous / Next

Part Two of a DOUBLE CHAPTER WOOHOO POSTING EVENT

During their first trip to Voeld, Ryder had been in awe. Yes, it had been cold and there had been nothing quite as annoying as SAM reminding her about the limits of her core body temperature, but beyond all that she had appreciated the quiet, icy beauty of the planet’s surface.

Now she missed SAM’s voice and she found the quiet, icy beauty less enjoyable. She didn’t need SAM to tell her that temperatures were dropping but it would have been nice, for old time’s sake.

There was a familiar pain in her back as she pushed forward and it jolted with each step she took. She didn’t bother looking where she was going. There was nothing to see - nothing she could see- through the snow that came at her from all directions. Heavy, hard little balls that bounced off her armor that made an audible plink as they pelted her helmet.

When Ryder couldn’t walk any longer she dropped to her knees, crawling forward through drifts as high as her shoulders. White and black, that’s all she could see. White from the snow all around her. Black from the back of her eyelids, drooping, the urge to return to sleep chasing her from the last remaining fringes of consciousness.

Packed snow gave way to something slick and hard. A frozen lake. At least out here the snow didn’t crowd around her, working to bury her before she was even dead. But she was more exposed, the wind and pelting snow biting through her armor.

She couldn’t hear their song but she saw the glow of the yevara beneath the ice, inches from her face. They passed beneath her palms and she rubbed against the ice as if she could pet them. Jaal had told her how important they were to the angara, the living remnants of their past civilization and their life before the Scourge.

It seemed as good a place to rest as any.

Ryder pressed her face as close to the ice as her helmet would allow. It wasn’t worth fighting the weariness that seeped through her bones. She couldn’t even say what had woken her and why she had stumbled forward to begin with. It all seemed so pointless now.

She was tried and the yevara would sing her to sleep.

- x -

When the Nomad finally signaled for extraction, Lexi made quick work of dispersing the lingering crew that hung around the cargo bay. “Everyone! Clear this area and stay out from under foot! I don’t want to see anyone near the medbay until I’ve signaled you all, am I understood?”

Vetra opened her mouth to protest, but even Peebee knew better than to argue with the doctor and she waved her hand in front of her throat, motioning for Vetra to stay silent.

“Good.” Lexi nodded, pleased with how well behaved the crew was, as they scampered away from the hold. She noticed Gil’s head poking from over the railing and she knew that Liam had purposely left his door open as he and Drack hid just out of sight, but none of those distractions mattered.

She had an excess of energy that left her restless as she waited. Without the patient in front of her, it was difficult for her to direct her thoughts into productive planning. How long had Ryder been on Voeld? What were the extent of her injuries sustained during the initial fight and how had they been treated? Without that information she was left to plan for any number of situations and none were pleasant.

The Tempest shook all around her as they landed and the floor began to heave, the ramp lowering for the Nomad to drive directly into the belly.

It was hard to say how the moment would pass before it had happened.

Sometimes things would unfold around her as if in slow motion, each heart beat and pump of blood slowed down to a thousand times their natural pace, her hands just as slow and clumsy in response.

Other times she blinked and the damage had been done, a cavity filled with septic waste or brain activity snuffed out.

It happened like that now. An empty cargo bay in front of her when she took a deep breath in, a press of metal as the Nomad rolled to a halt when she let the breath out. Jaal held Ryder in his arms, her helmetless face pressed against his chest and her arms folded loosely in her lap. She looked like she was -

“She’s sleeping,” Cora said as she emerged behind Jaal. She had regained the color that she had lost while watching the video, but her eyes were still glazed and far off. Lexi made a note to check in with her after she had done a preliminary check on Ryder. “She’s… snoring and everything.”

Sure enough Lexi could hear it, the gentle vibration of breath through Ryder’s nose.

Lexi gave a wan smile and looked up at Jaal. “Take her to the medbay. Sleeping or not, she gets a full check up.”

As the two walked away from the hold, Lexi could hear Liam’s ghostly laugh behind her. “Just like her to take a nap while we’re all worried.” The joke almost echoed in the silence as half a dozen eyes trailed the limp legs dangling from Jaal’s embrace.

- x -

It was one of those things that she hadn’t thought about until recently, but Ryder was beginning to find that she did not enjoy the sensation of waking up on a numb arm to a bright light in her face while nursing a drug specific hangover.

“How kind of you to finally join us.”

That dry, merciless tone. It didn’t matter that the light made her head hurt and pushing herself up made her want to vomit, she had to see. She had to confirm that what she was hearing was true.

“Easy now,” Lexi warned, her hands pressing gently, yet firmly, against Ryder’s chest. “You were lucky that we found you before you lost anything more serious.”

“What?” Ryder raised one arm in the air and tried to wiggle the one pinned beneath her. She counted ten fingers, craned her neck to try and see her toes.

“I’m kidding. See how it feels to be worried?” A joke, wrapped in a lesson, delivered with the cool tone of a disinterested physician.

It wasn’t a dream.

Tears sprung from Ryder’s eyes and she was too glad to wipe them away, not even the least bit ashamed as they slid down her cheeks. Maybe at another time she would wonder about whether it was good for crew morale for the pathfinder to sob, but right now it felt good.

Lexi’s warm hands framed Ryder’s face, the friendly blue face coming into focus through the glaze of tears. “I knew you would like the joke,” she said, her thumbs tracing circles across Ryder’s cheeks.

They stayed like that for a while, Lexi perched on the edge of the bed, holding Ryder as she cried. She alternated between stroking Ryder’s hair, face and arms, making low, comforting sounds as she did.

“I’m okay,” Ryder finally said, the last of her tears drying against her lips. “I’m all out of water.”

“I’m not surprised given how dehydrated you are.” Lexi stood up, pulling out a data pad as she did. It was back to business, the softness of her tone replaced by the pointed inflection of a doctor. “I have a few questions. I’m sorry if this is a lot for you, and you can let me know if you need to stop, but I have to be sure.”

Ryder nodded, a go ahead for questions.

“You have a new scar on your shoulder that was healed professionally, but you have one on your back that was… not.”

Ryder winced as she remembered Jaal’s knife cutting into her shoulder and the further damage she had done trying to hold onto the shuttle as it flew away. That had been another tube of medi gel - “wasted,” as Murphy had reminded her for the second time.

“My back?” she asked, her voice heavy with confusion and exhaustion. She had just woken up, but after that cry she was ready for another nap.

“It was stitched by hand. It’s healed well enough,” Lexi shrugged as if that was all that mattered, but her eyes were hooded and wary. “When did you sustain the injuries?”

Hand stitching on her back? That didn’t make any sense. Ryder knew for a fact that Lia had used medi gel, had felt the barely there knot of scar tissue herself as she had changed into the jumpsuit she had been given.

She tried to think back to her few moments of lucidity on Voeld, crawling through the snow. Her back had hurt then. Had something happened after her meeting with Lonny?

Thoughts of Lonny darkened her expression and she hunched her shoulders. She could still feel his hands pressed against hers, that sad far away look on his face as he asked her about her school days.

“Ryder, what’s wrong?” Lexi’s hands were on her shoulders, a firm and friendly grasp to bring her back to the present.

“It’s… I don’t remember,” she lied. “I can’t remember a lot of the - “ she stumbled, “ - times that have happened.”

“You can’t remember the times that have happened?”

Shit, that was a half assed lie, but she couldn’t give away that she knew how much time had passed. Maybe it was stupid of her to keep her time with Lonny secret, and she assured herself that she would talk about it… later. When she was ready.

“I’m sorry, Lexi, I’m really tired. Can I sleep?”

Lexi didn’t say anything and Ryder avoided looking up, just in case her face gave her away and Lexi pressed for more solid answers.

“Jaal has been asking to see you,” Lexi finally said. “He’s been… distant since the ambush. I’ll let him know that you’re sleeping.”

As much as she wanted to see Jaal, she was tired and she didn’t think she could keep quiet about what had happened if questioneds. She knew, even without seeing him, that he would be blaming himself for her being shot.

She was tired, but she owed him answers.

“That’s okay, you can send him in,” she said. “I think I have enough energy to talk for a bit.”

This time she did look up, just in time to see Lexi’s knowing, half smile. “Mhmm, of course. I’ll let him know. Be right back.”

Ryder let her eyes rest in the few moments of silence that she had been afforded as Lexi searched for Jaal. The quiet was nice, but it was the smell that Ryder appreciated the most. Or, rather, the lack of smell.

She shifted, tried to roll onto her back but stopped when she felt the sharp, bright pain as the bed pressed against her.

“Oh, what the fuck?” she hissed.

“Pathfinder, I am happy that you’re awake but I have something to share with you. I thought it best to wait until Dr. T’Perro was no longer in the room.”

“SAM!” Ryder shot up, her fingers reaching for her ears. Her comms had been taken, both her link to the exiles and the block against SAM. “Oh, SAM, I missed your voice.”

“I am detecting a foreign body located just below your skin.”

A vein near her eye throbbed. “What?”

“I am having a hard time deciphering what it is, but I have pinpointed the location to the wound on your back.”

Her fingers found where a bullet had punctured her just a few days before. She had been healed, she was sure of it, but now the whole area was sore. The closer she inched to the wound the sharper the pain became. She willed herself to keep going, brushing her fingers against the lump of skin that had been stitched back together.

Lump. Not a good thing.

“SAM, what’s going on?”

“I am unfamiliar with the material that is present in your body, but it cannot be picked up by the ship’s medical scanners. I withheld the information from Dr. T’Perro when she asked for an internal report.”

“You can lie? Why would you do that?”

Before SAM could answer, the medbay doors opened up. Ryder’s attention, the bewilderment from her interrupted conversation with SAM still written across her face, snapped to the door.

Her heart hammered as she took in the hunch of his shoulders and the frown that creased his face. Jaal had the same hard look in his eyes that he’d had on Eos while hovering over her as he pressed her head into the dirt.

#mass effect andromeda #me:a fan fiction #rydaal #jaal x ryder #mass effect: andromeda fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #blood of the brotherhood #text post

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barbaras-mermaid-cove · 8 years

Text

Barbara and Francesca's Tour of the City

Rated: PG for some trauma references.

Pairing: Barb/Fran or Barb/Mel; up to interpretation.

A/N: You know what? I’m going to post this story here, too. While Barbara still can be explained/redeemed, and all... Enjoy, and review if you want...?

Summary: Since Barbara is heartbroken about her previous relationship, Francesca has decided to take her on a tour of the city to cheer her up. Meanwhile, Mel spends the holiday with someone else, unaware of the true reason his wife left, and Bob does his best to escape the hospital!

Barbara, a tall beautiful woman with short green hair spoke to Francesca, a black-haired Italian woman she'd met outside a comedy club. Both women were now separated from their husbands, but they were once the respective wives of Sideshow Mel and Sideshow Bob, the current and former sidekicks of a TV clown. Francesca had been separated for a long time, but Barbara had just separated and the wounds were still fresh. She'd not only been emailed evidence that she'd been cheated on, she'd also been told what to do over the phone by a mystery voice. She'd left a letter on Mel's chair and had to leave the house with her possessions. The voice had started off neutral, but it had taken on a threatening tone. She could never look Mel in the eyes, she just left. It was better that way. "And on top of everything else, the cops have finally arrested my sister, Lucille." The tall, green haired woman said. Francesca listened to Barbara talk, as they both stood waiting for the tour bus together. The former nodded as she spotted their bus. "There it is! Now, Barbara, come with me, and I will-a make you smile! This tour will-a cheer both of us up!" ... Now, Krusty the Clown once mentioned his sister. He'd felt kind of sorry for Mel, so he decided to let his sister spend the holidays with him. Little did Mel know, Krusty was sort of shifty, and he'd much rather Mel spend the holidays with his sister, than with some prissy journalist wife with a perpetual rod up her spine. (How nice did he really have to be in order to not get a negative rating from her?!) Krusty's sister, whose name was Judy, helped Mel move the new bean bag chairs to the sides of the couch. The new chairs were a gray-green colour and just big enough for one person to sit on each one. Mel's kids had chosen them. Some kids dreamed of starting a rock band, his kids dreamed of bean bag chairs. Judy got a text from her brother, Krusty. "Hey, Jude. I'm frying in here. What should I do?" She answered, typing, "Turn down the temperature of the hot tub." Krusty, who was currently on stage, looked taken aback. A few audience members laughed at his expression. Krusty noticed. He texted back to his sister, "Ha-ha. Will try that." He may as well use that joke, while he was at it. Judy glanced over at Mel, now relaxing on the couch. His kids slumped down on the bean bag chairs. She smiled at them, before looking back at her phone. "Krusty- it's not the same without you. Can you drop by later?" After about three seconds, he responded. "Sure. Since Mel's ball-and-chain's gone, sounds like a blast." ... Francesca had heard of Bob's being in the hospital. He'd slipped on the ice and injured his leg when buying a present for Bart, of all people. The two had made a truce ever since the summer, when Bob decided to go clean. Bob also had a new girlfriend. The ex-wife imagined Bob in that hospital room with that woman, and her heart couldn't help feel a pang of envy. She drummed her fingers on the metal windowsill of the bus. As much as she wanted to convince herself she was over Bob, she still missed him. She couldn't help imagine Bob and that woman sharing a New Year's kiss. As upsetting as it was to think about, the gentle sound of the finger drumming helped calm her thoughts. She looked over at Barbara, hoping for a distraction. The other woman was wearing a slim lavender jacket, light indigo pants, and black boots. Francesca wore a blue-green jacket, a grey skirt/pantyhose and fluffy white boots. "It's no use. Everything reminds me of him." Barbara admitted. On the bus, there were a few men carrying strangely shaped cactuses, which looked exactly like Mel's curly 'up-do' hairdo with a bone in it. "Come on, dearie, smile," Francesca coaxed. She put her arm around her waist. "There is so much to smile about!" At noticing Barbara's skeptical expression, she motioned out the window. But right at that moment they rode by a poor, shady neighbourhood. "Oh." Barbara saw, and turned away, crossing her arms around her waist. She looked glum as ever. Francesca had to keep trying. They got off at their first stop. It was a small area, with a small park. It had over a foot of snow on the ground. The trees were bare of any leaves, skeletons of their former selves. Francesca decided that maybe starting out here and then working their way towards the city would be good. A few kids were making snowballs. Hmm. Maybe a snowball fight would lighten things up, Francesca thought. Before she could hatch any more ideas, the kids pointed at Barbara. "Hey," A brown haired boy, around eight, said accusingly. "Aren't you the potty-face that left Sideshow Mel?" "Yeah!" The other kids said. Not waiting for an answer, the kids pelted the woman with snowballs. "Ahh! Ooh!" She cried, ducking for cover. Francesca saw, and ran over. They hid behind a tree. "Hey!" Francesca shouted at the kids. "A woman has-a every right to leave her husband if he sleeps with the other women!" The kids threw another arsenal of snowballs. It hit the tree the women were hiding behind, hard. That did it! Francesca made a snowball with her mittened hands and jumped out from behind the tree. "You just-a proved my point!" She yelled. She threw the snowball and it hit a tree next to one of the kids, even harder. The bark had a small dent in it. The kids dropped their snowballs and ran for it. Francesca was about to run after the kids, but Barbara held her back. Still looking fierce, the brunette yelled after them. "And don't-a come back!" ... Sideshow Bob was in the hospital. The pain in his leg from when he slipped on the ice was getting better. His girlfriend had visited him, and that had cheered him up, but now visiting hours were over and he was all alone. He didn't care if he had to walk in order to get out of here. He'd show them! He was strong as steel and three times as tough! There was nothing he wanted less than to spend the holidays in a hospital room!! Bob moved to the side at a 45 degree angle. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and began to walk. The pain enveloped him and he collapsed to the floor. Too fast. He'd gone too fast. The shooting pains in his leg prevented him from making another try. His face contorted in agony. He slowly pulled himself back up into bed. His chest rose up and down as he caught his breath. He would try again later. ... The women stopped by next to a department store. In the center-stage there was a performance going on. It was an all-female, slapstick version of Hamlet. They even had the original stick that made a comedic slapping sound when it hit someone, without inflicting any real damage to the actors. Francesca and Barbara stayed for a while, enjoying the performance. 'It's too bad Roberto wasn't here to see this,' Francesca mused. 'He would have loved this...' 'Mel loved Hamlet...' Barbara thought. 'Oh, if we were still together and I was in something like this... he'd swoon.' After it finished, the women clapped, along with the other spectators. The performing women were selling the slap-sticks in a booth next to the stage. Barbara and Francesca talked it over, and decided to buy a couple. You know, just in case. Meanwhile, Gil was having trouble making a sale on a broken snowblower. Barbara decided to help him out, and bought it from him. Maybe she could fix it in the garage, at home. Well, in any case, it was good to help out a man who needed the money. His grateful smile was thanks enough, she decided. Gino tugged at his mother's skirt, pointing to a stuffed toy he wanted. Francesca was surprised. "An elephant? Since when do you like elephants?" Gino replied, "Is not for me. Is for her." He pointed to Barbara. He must have noticed the woman's sadness too. So Francesca bought the toy for Gino to give to their friend. Barbara beamed. She wasn't expecting any gifts, let alone being supported by anyone. She thanked them gratefully, holding the stuffed elephant in her arms. Her grin, the Italian woman had to admit, was rather cute. Almost childlike. Their next stop, after exiting the department store, was the hospital. Barbara knew that the Terwilligers still missed Bob and wanted to wish him a Merry Christmas. So, they walked together to go meet with him. ... Bob got up again, his toes peeking out from under the blanket. The pedicurist had been so kind as to do his toenails. She'd added paint; it was a simple clear coat, but still nice. Made his toes look shiny. Sliding out of bed, he began to walk. With each step he realized it was easier than before. He couldn't wait to tell the nurses! His Lady would drop by again that day. The thought of her long black hair with silver shines through it made him sigh happily. He noticed someone at the door. It was a woman with long black hair. She entered through the doorframe. Eep! He suddenly made a step and pain shot throughout his leg. He collapsed, more startled than in pain. Okay. He didn't mean /that/ woman with long black hair. "F-Francesca. I wasn't expecting you." Using the bed as support, he pulled himself to his feet. He tried showing emotional distance and nonchalance. "Bob." She used his stage name. It must have taken him by surprise as his emotional nonchalance melted away. "Yes?" Should he use 'my dear,' or shouldn't he? They weren't married anymore, but it was only polite. Would she see it that way...? Perhaps his pain made him overthink it? "M-my dear...?" She rolled her eyes. "Don't look nervous, Roberto. I am merely checking up on you. Here, I brought you a gift. Merry Christmas." It was a triple-size green and red striped candy cane, with a red ribbon tied around it. "Thank you. I'd have bought you something from the gift shop, but, as you can see..." He winced from stepping on his hurt leg again. Francesca supported his weight and helped him into bed. "Roberto... you really should rest now. Don't try to walk on that until it heals more." Bob saw her stern eyes, and nodded. "And don't disobey, or I spank you with this." She showed him one of the slapsticks that she and Barbara bought. Gino, who'd been pretending to be asleep in her arms, chuckled. Bob noticed, and couldn't help smile as well. "Don't worry, Francesca. I promise." He took her words seriously and rested for now. Barbara walked into the room all of a sudden, to meet with Bob too. He looked taken aback. "B-B-Botz???" She put up her hands, trying to explain. "I was. Wait, you don't understand. I'm not Lucille. I'm the younger sister, Barbara!" "Oh." Bob got a close look at her, and saw that she indeed wasn't the famed Babysitter Bandit. "I came here with Francesca. I just wanted to wish you happy holidays, too." Bob nodded. "Happy Holidays to you, Barbara. Hope you don't think I'll of me for fearing your sister." He glanced over at the newspaper article on his desk, which had made her VERY scary. "She and I might actually have made a good team, once." "I've heard about you, Sideshow Bob," Barbara admitted. "And I believe you would have." "Indeed." Bob agreed. His hand reached out for a glass of water next to his book, which was a copy of Machiavelli's "The Prince." After sipping his water and putting it back, Bob sat up. He reached up to hug his son, who was no longer pretending to be asleep. A fatherly warmth spread out in his heart. He also hugged his ex-wife. Then he shook the hand of his tall, green-haired new acquaintance. "It's been a pleasure." He said, as he watched the clock indicate that visiting hours were now up. He waved to the group of three as he pondered on the fact that his friends made what could have been his worst Christmas ever into one of the best. ... Barbara spoke to Francesca outside the hospital room. "And now I get to meet with my husband." Barbara said, matter-of-factly. "Are you sure it's a good idea?" She nodded. "It's only polite to. And besides, it isn't like Krusty will be there. My kids will be there, though." Francesca took her hand, holding her son with the other. "If he stresses you out too much, my dear, come right back outside. I had planned a big family reunion dinner for us all, but it looks like Bob can't come thanks to that hurt leg of his. But you are free to come back to Italy with me and Gino, for the holidays." ... Barbara arrived at Mel's door. She hesitated about ringing the doorbell. A snowball was thrown at her from off-screen, she ducked, and it hit the door; narrowly missing her head. Wiping the snowball off the door, she took a peek inside the house through the big window. She spotted Mel smiling happily with cocoa in his hands, and the children screaming carols at the top of their lungs. There was a woman as short as Mel, green-haired as Krusty, with yellow skin and a somewhat homely look to her. She sat down next to Mel, smiling and holding a cup of cocoa of her own. Barbara turned back to the door. She didn't care who the woman was. She needed to do this. The knock was loud. Luckily, Mel was the one who opened the door. Surprise and confusion mounted in his voice. "Barbara...?" Not wasting a single second, she threw her arms around him. Her cold melted into his warmth and vice versa. The snow blew in from outside. Mel noticed, and closed the door behind her. "What are you doing here?!" Mel asked. Barbara released him. "I came back to wish you happy holidays." Mel felt mixed confusing feelings arise in him. Judy noticed and retreated back to the kitchen. She thought, 'How dare that woman show her face around here again?! After the way she'd broken his heart!' But she saw the look in Mel's face, and a similar look in his wife's face. Was she just seducing him, or did she feel the same way? Judy looked inside her own heart. Did she start to fall in love with Mel, or did she just want happiness for him? It had been a long shot, even thinking they had a chance together, but she'd always hoped... She sat down, cross-legged, watching the inevitable unfold in front of her. Barbara took something out of her purse, and handed it to Mel. "If you would allow it, I brought you a present. I hope you enjoy it." Mel unwrapped the gift in red paper on the spot. It was a blue dreamcatcher. She half-grinned. "I hope you have only good dreams from now on." "Thank you." he muttered. She looked over at her kids. They came running up to hug her. A stream of tears involuntarily began to flow down her cheeks. ... The green-haired clown, Krusty, arrived outside the door of the Van Horne residence. He grinned widely at the prospect of seeing his sister - and also Mel - this Christmas. Well, he'd already spent the first part of the holidays with his daughter Sophie, so spending the other part with Mel and Judy meant more fun and gifts!! He knocked loudly on the door and immediately burst in. "Hey, hey, everyone! Guess who's got more presents for ya!" The kids ran immediately to him for some presents. He handed them out, grinning. But he stopped grinning when he saw a familiar sea-green-haired, liposuction-butt, can't-take-a-joke journalist standing in the room. She glared at him. Oops. Uh-oh! Krusty thought. "Sorry, Judy, looks like the plan didn't work!" He high-tailed it to the kitchen, where his sister stood. "What plan?" she asked. "The plan to split up Mel and his broad, so he'd be all mine for the show!" Judy looked back at Mel and Barbara. Everyone looked uncomfortable. Barbara saw Krusty think to himself about how to go about plan B of getting rid of her. Suddenly, flashbacks of how much she'd been threatened, intimidated, and harassed all throughout Mel's sidekick career, came back to her. This clown was vicious, and he wouldn't stop until he had his man. Barbara hugged her husband tight and whispered, "No matter what anyone else says, I'll always love you, Mel." She released him and looked so broken up inside that Mel wanted to pull her close again and tell her things would be alright. She was fast for him. She turned around and turned the doorknob of the door, and stepped outside into the cold again. Seeing Francesca waiting for her in the car, she nodded. She got into the car and they drove to the airport. ... Mel ran outside. "Barbara, wait!" He called out, squinting through the windy snow that blew at him in the night. Her car had driven off. Judy hopped inside her car and called out to Mel. "We can still catch them!" Mel nodded and hopped into the passenger seat. They drove to the airport, fast yet cautiously because of the wind and snow hurtling at them. When they arrived they heard the radio announcer say that all flights for Salcissia are about to take off. They ran as fast as they could to try and tell the radio announcer to cancel that flight! "I'm sorry, guys, but I can't stop an entire flight every time one person's lover is about to get away." "Please?" Mel said, smiling. It was the familiar cute smile he made right before he's about to hear crushing news. "No." The man said. "But you can still catch them if you're fast enough." ... Mel and Judy rushed to catch the plane, but it already started on the runway and took off before their very eyes. Mel looked absolutely crushed. She was gone, again. He reached out to something now way out of his grasp. His voice cracked like broken glass. "Oh, Barbara..." Seeing the man put his face in his hands and start sobbing, Judy ran over. She put her arm around him, and comforted him as they walked slowly back to the car. It had the small effect of making Mel's sobs softer as they drove home. The darkness coupled with snow and wind was even more eerie than before. ... Back at the house, Krusty opened the door to one sad woman and one heartbroken man. "Hey hey, don't look at it like losing someone, look at it like getting better at your job..." The clown grinned, a bit pathetically. Judy frowned. "YOU were the one responsible for this!!" The clown glanced away, tugging at his collar. Judy continued. "How could you, Krusty? I hope you're going to make it up to him." "Oh, believe me," the clown said. "Tomorrow we'll visit the hospital to see Sideshow Bob, and I'll get you some ice cream on the way back." Mel shrugged. "It's better than nothing." ... In the hospital, Bob was walking on his leg again. The nurse congratulated him for healing so quickly. Soon he'd be fully recovered! "Hey, hey!" Bob almost tripped himself up. He growled at seeing Krusty again. That clown had betrayed him at their most recent reunion special and he still loathed him for that. Oh, he was reformed alright, but he still loathed and couldn't trust that clown. "Hello, Krusty..." The clown had brought Mel and Judy along for the trip. Bob slipped back into bed and relaxed. "And hello there, Mel, how's life treating you?" "Not well," the man admitted. "His wife left him, came back, then left him again, thanks to me," the clown explained. "Ah." Bob said. "I sympathize, Melvin. He's done the same thing to my early romances." "Really?" The redhead nodded. "Sideshows can't work and love at the same time, in his eyes." "I see." "Anyways," Bob continued. "I've been healing quickly, so I might get out of here sooner than they predicted. I intend to spend the rest of the holiday with my girlfriend, and then call my ex-wife and son to check on how their holiday went." "Wait." Judy said. "You have their phone number?" Bob nodded. Mel perked up. "Can you write it down for me? Barbara's spending the holidays with her!" "Oh, certainly, here." Bob wrote it down and handed Mel the paper. "How can I ever thank you?" Mel said, smiling. He tucked the piece of paper into his pocket. "For one, you can help me walk. I intend to spend as little time in this hospital room as humanly possible." Mel helped him stand, and helped him take his first few steps. Bob could take it from there, and finally was able to walk without falling. "Thank you Melvin, that was a big help to me! I mean it!" Bob grinned. "As was what you did for me!" Mel grinned. Bob began to wobble a bit, but Mel caught him. He put his arm around him for support. Krusty crossed his arms, pouting. Judy smiled. Mel looked up at Bob. "Robert, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

#barbara van horne #francesca terwilliger #sideshow mel #sideshow bob #my fanfics #there are other characters in it but you'll have to keep reading if you want to find out whom... ;)

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chocobroobsession · 7 years

Text

The Red String - Chapter 17

Author’s Note: Soulmate AU based on the red string of fate story. Ignis x fem!OC. Just building up to the smut in the next chapter. I wasn’t sure if I was going to go there or not, but I couldn’t help myself. Word count: 2061

Chapter Masterlist

Over the course of the next few months, many things took place. Chandra worked up the courage to speak to the human resources department at the large hospital at Lestallum. With all of Eos being plunged in darkness, chaos naturally ensued. With daemon attacks occurring more and more frequently, widespread devastation caused the population to abandon whole towns and small cities. Large masses were moving into well-populated areas, such as Lestallum. As a result, the hospital there found itself very busy but rather short-staffed. Through on the job training and additional classes, Chandra would be on her way to becoming a nurse in a short amount of time. It wasn’t a doctor, but it was a pretty good start. Her background in science put her at an advantage, and working in the hospital helped her save up some gil. With it, she was able to rent a tiny studio apartment in a building close to the hospital where many other medical workers lived.

Ignis threw himself back into a vigorous training regimen. Prompto and Gladio took turns sparring with him, trying to get him back to his former glory as a fighter. Many hunters continued with their usual hunts, but many switched to daemon hunting. Since daemon hunters were in high demand, the trio joined them, raking in the gil. Gladio and Prompto sometimes took on solo hunts, but Ignis didn’t quite feel ready to venture out on his own. Chandra would watch him spar with the guys sometimes. Though the thought of Ignis hunting solo scared her to death, she was confident that he would be ready with a few more months of training. He was already able to navigate the city without relying completely on his cane. It amazed everyone how easily he was adapting to living without his sight. He explained to Chandra that he had accepted the fact that his vision wasn’t going to return, so rather than wallow in his own pity, he would work that much harder to overcome his condition and live as normal of a life as he could.

Ignis shared a small flat with Prompto and Gladio in Lestallum. They split their time between there and the Hunter’s HQ in Meldacio. Though this meant that Ignis didn’t get to spend time with Chandra for weeks at a time, she didn’t mind. They all had work to do and gil to earn. She relished any time they did get to spend together, no matter what they did. Soon, Ignis began teaching her how to cook. Though he didn’t quite feel ready to throw himself back into the kitchen, he was an excellent teacher and was able to help her with recipes based on smell and taste. She had never been much of a cook growing up, mostly relying on the microwave, but with Ignis’s help, she was finally able to eat healthier.

Chandra had toyed with the idea of becoming a daemon hunter on her days off from the hospital. Ignis offered to help her train by sparring with her. He managed to obtain some wooden daggers for them to practice with at first since she didn’t trust herself with her old daggers. In the beginning, he easily took her out in a matter of seconds, but thanks to hard work and muscle memory, she reached a point where she could hold her own against him. He still beat her every time, of course, but she wasn’t so easily conquered.

Throughout the months, Ignis found himself completely and utterly in love with Chandra. When they weren’t out earning gil, they were together. Even if all they did was sit next to each other, not speaking, just sitting in comfortable silence while he unwound with music from a headset and she read to herself, they were perfectly content and in love. Neither of them had worked up the courage yet to say those three little words, but it was understood. They were soulmates, after all.

The pair had yet to go all the way in their relationship. Many times they had spent the night at each other’s places, but nothing ever transpired. Given Chandra’s past traumas, Ignis’s lack of sight, and both of their inexperience, they were reluctant to take the plunge. Both parties still suffered from frequent nightmares, so spending the night with each other was more about finding comfort and someone to confide in. Still, spending the night in each other’s arms began to keep the nightmares at bay, and so they relished finally being able to get a good night’s sleep. Awkwardness aside, the sexual tension between them was practically tangible, and the two did long to be intimate with each other, but the opportune moment just hadn’t come up yet.

One afternoon, Ignis found himself sparring with Chandra in a small field near her apartment complex. She had improved exponentially since they first started. As they came at each other with their daggers, he teased her by trying to distract her with conversation.

“Tell me again, why did a small, geeky thing such as yourself take up combat training? I thought Tenebrae didn’t have a strong military presence nor did it encourage it?”

Chandra grunted as she barely missed Ignis’s attack as he lunged at her. It was hard to strategize and talk at the same time and he knew she couldn’t multi-task the way he could, sight or no sight. “Ugh. They didn’t. The headmaster at my school encouraged a well-rounded education.” She lunged at Ignis only to have him block her move. “Dammit!”

He chuckled and retreated, allowing her to crouch down and catch her breath for a moment. “We were told that we could pick additional subjects, either in the arts, or athletics, or both. I tried to take as many science and math classes as possible, so I could only pick one. My dad thought I should try to play an instrument, and many of them intrigued me, but I didn’t want to grow up to be a shrimpy little nerd who couldn’t defend herself. That’s where combat training would come in. No one would expect it from me. I could be smart and a badass. We learned basic self-defense first, followed by various attack methods. We were told to pick a weapon to specialize in, so I picked daggers. I was little and I became fast, and so no one saw me coming. I can’t say the same for now. I’m still short, but nowhere near as quick.” She huffed as she stood up. “Why? What does it matter?”

“I was only curious,” Ignis answered. “You’re right. No one would expect this from you. I certainly didn’t. Are you sure you want to try your hand at daemon hunting though? You don’t want to injure yourself and wind up in the very hospital you’re supposed to be working in.”

“Do you not believe in me, Ignis?” Chandra’s temper flared a little.

“No, of course I believe in you, darling! I’m just merely worried about you; that’s all. You spend so much time with work already. I don’t want you to wear yourself too thin,” he explained.

“Oh,” she said, temper dying out. “And here I thought you were afraid of some competition. I thought maybe you were afraid of being such a good teacher that your student would surpass you and be a better daemon hunter.”

Ignis smirked. “You wish, love. You wish.”

With that, Chandra charged straight towards him, daggers at the ready. She swiped, only to be immediately blocked and rebuffed. She huffed and backed off, thinking of a better way to strike. As she ran at him again, he back-flipped out of the way. He somehow managed to quickly land on both feet and then strike back. She was barely able to block him in time. “Show off.”

“Well if you weren’t so predictable, darling, I wouldn’t have time to add in some extra flair,” he laughed.

They broke apart and she struck at him again, only to be blocked yet again. “Argh, how do you do that?! You fight better than my trainer at school did, and he had 20/20 vision!” She groaned.

“Well, for one thing, you aren’t exactly stealthy. Secondly, I’ve been doing this for most of my life, whereas you have not. Thirdly, you forget that I am training each and every day, with or without you, to be able to fight better without the use of sight, so I am already in much better shape than you think.”

“Still, I swear you’re unnaturally good at this,” she muttered.

“Why thank you. I hope that soon I can put my practice to good use and actually be able to bring in some bounty on my own. I’m sure Prompto and Gladio are sick of having to tag along with me.”

“You know they don’t mind,” Chandra reminded him. “They’re just looking out for you.”

“Still, all the same, I’d prefer to not have to rely on my cane so much and be able to fight on my own.”

“Well, at the rate you’re going, I don’t see why you can’t be where you want at the end of the year,” she admitted.

Chandra pushed all of her remaining strength into one final attack. She charged at Ignis and then feigned at the last second. She whipped around him and came up from behind with her dagger to hold it to his throat. She grinned, tasting victory, only watch in horror as Ignis turned around and knocked her off her feet with the sweep of his leg. She found herself suddenly pinned to the ground with him straddling her and his dagger pressed against her throat.

“Gotcha,” he mused.

She started to spew out a sarcastic response about fighting fair, but instead found the compromising position she was in rather interesting. Adrenaline was pumping through her body and her heart was racing. Rather than being upset about being beaten yet again, she was turned on by the way his body was pressed up against hers. The feeling was mutual because he threw his dagger aside and leaned down to press a kiss against her lips. His tongue ran against her bottom lip, and she sighed into his mouth as she parted her lips, allowing his tongue entry. She looped her arms around his neck as he ran his hands down her sides. The kiss went on for some time before Ignis broke away, scarlet beginning to spread across his cheeks.

He cleared his throat. “I apologize. I don’t know what came over me.” He scrambled off of her and held out his hand to help her get up.

Chandra sighed. She wasn’t ready for that kiss to end. “It’s okay, Iggy.” She reached for his hand and he helped her to her feet. She stared at him, heat in her belly and want in her eyes. This wasn’t the first time they had found themselves in such a position. Each time, one of them would end it prematurely and try to change the subject, neither of them ready to cross that line. She craved him immensely at that moment, but then she was hyper aware of just how sweaty and grimy she was and decided now wasn’t the best time, despite the urge being at its strongest yet.

“Ignis?”

“Yes, Chandra?” Ignis was well aware of the growing erection in his pants, but he wasn’t sure if now was the time to proceed with anything. They had just finished sparring and truthfully, he didn’t like the idea of his first time with her being tainted by sweat and dirt.

“Why…why don’t we call it a day with training? We can go home and clean up, and then, how about you come over for supper? I want to try out a new recipe.” She hoped he didn’t get the wrong idea. She wanted him, but not under the present circumstances. Maybe once they were cleaned up and more relaxed, something could finally happen between them.

“Of course, I would be delighted. I cannot wait to see what’s on the menu for tonight.” He wasn’t sure if he meant to say that like he had ulterior motives, but the phrase came out that way. He really hoped Chandra hadn’t picked up on that. But she did. And she definitely didn’t object.

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv fanfiction #ignis scientia #ignis stupeo scientia #ignis x oc #the red string #soulmate au #my writing

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