#ch: mickey white

[untilthenextencore]

"Nights To Remember Ch. 3: Bright Lights, Big City, Dark Sylph, Dark Lord~..."

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Bright lights, big city. Taillights & headlights. Children of the sun. Suntanned skin & brown bottled beer. And a curvy, dusky skinned sylph a bit too dressy for such casual surroundings heading into the blues pumping nightclub. Cutting a swath through the milling crowd. Bathed in a pinkish glow from the neon curved lights announcing to the world the humble haven at which they, along with Robert & co had found themselves: The Chuco.

A reference to the Pachucos, zoot suiters that a lot of its denizens were birthed to or had otherwise in their family.

The first teddy boys in a way, Robert thought, right down to the flashy clothes & slicked back hair. Some of the kids still sported that "greaser" aka teddy boy look. Though Robert knew well enough to steer away from the former term & used the latter. He recognized the look anyway. Right down to the cuffed jeans & white t-shirts with the rolled up sleeves that had the cigarette packets & matchbook tucked inside.

He had attempted such a look in his youth. In those heady early days. When rock'n'roll first shook him, and blues first seduced him away. Astray.

Astray.

Astray is apparently how he continued to stay. How else would he find himself here? At a small nightclub away from the rest. Away from all others. But Magnet.

And her.

Magnet he saw chatting up a pretty, petite young thing against a nearby wall.

That just left him. And her. And about a few tens of other kids around them. But in his mind they all but disappeared. All blurring into a Renoir like smudgy frame for his gaze. Myopic as ever. Single-minded. Laser focused. His view. His vision. The vision.

Her.

Her.

Her.

She was bathed in light. A pink light. Blushing violet pink. The shade was a near perfect match to the signage outside. It lit her & everyone else in the room. Making them look like the denizens of one of those pulpy romance comics. All dark features & strawberry light. All dark features except for him. Which, despite his better nature, only served to have him further feel like the protagonist in one of those pulpy romances.

All dark features. And strawberry light. All he saw then was dark features & a figure lit by strawberry light. From the club's tinted lighting, yes. From the rose colored glasses Robert always seemed to sport- especially regarding her - also yes. But also from within.

She lit up.

She came alive here.

She was incandescent.

Her eyes sparkled. Glittered. Shone really. Her mask of previously remote features now fully removed if not shattered. Now her lips curved in the proudest gleaming grin.

She raised her arms in exultation, releasing a cry of exultation from deep within. One which ended up being a cry of call and response. As many around her responded with a similar cry in return.

Thankfully she was far enough ahead - while of course still remaining well in Robert's sight - that no one around them let out any other screams at Robert's striding his 6 foot, blonde, white, English country boy self inside.

Indeed he saw some glimmers of recognition, disbelief, then outright confusion. He could read their features like a book. A silent movie at play before him.

Is it him?

It is!

Why the fuck would he be here?

There's no way!

Little did they know.

There was a way.

One way.

Her.

Her.

Her.

Robert took a beer Magnet gave him in passing. He then noted with his first sip, that Magnet as he passed, was currently flitting on his way to another girl still with the first in tow. Three's company. His kinda company clearly. Clearly hopeful that a threesome was on the way.

Classic Magnet.

Upon taking this beer, Robert raised it to those eyes of recognition. A toast. In return, he pressed a finger to his lips & gave a conspiratorial smile. Thankfully, miraculously, this seemed to be enough to quell any tongues that might've been set a-wag by his arrival. Smiles were returned. Nods & cheers with their drinks in return. A few blown kisses by some young lovelies.

And it was then that even though Robert found his "cover blown," so to speak, he found himself in the clear.

With his way now clear, Robert made his way to Dahlia. She had hugged a few old friends in warm, enthusiastic greeting, chattering animatedly in a quick catch-up. Catching them as she was arriving & they were leaving. After waving goodbye, she then strolled over to the bar, picking up a beer & taking a swig herself as her bent elbow rested on the bartop she leaned back into.

As Robert approached, the soundtrack of sorts, incidental music, continued to tease him in a way that seemed anything but incidental, accidental, or by happenstance. This time, it was Junior Walker & his All Stars.

"What does it take…

(What does it take)...

To win your love for me?...

(To win your love for me)...

How can I make…

(How can I make)...

This dream come true for me…"

He reached out in what seemed like slow motion. Reaching for the vision in raspberry light. Strawberry light. A brilliant smile that seared itself into his mind at first glance. A lyrical laugh that rang out above the clinking beer bottles & trickled over him like the lightest, sweetest waterfall. And silken, tawny skin that burned him alive simultaneously as his fingers slid across her velvet soft hand. The one without the ring.

Her eyes cut over to him. Her gaze at first flickered in confusion before alighting in recognition, smile back to full strength. She mimicked the song then playing in her greeting.

"Hello, stranger." She then added yet another one of her light, playful teases. "Long time no see." Clinking bottles with him, she continued. "I was wondering when you were gonna amble your way in."

"Ah…"

For once in his life, Robert struggled for a snappy line.

So he scrambled for the closest thing.

A grin curved his lips, easier than he felt inside. "Well I can't very well leave you to the wolves now can I?" His delivery wasn't as smooth as he'd have liked, alas. His voice shook slightly. Hopefully she just took that for barely checked laughter.

As it turned out, she took it in stride. It barely checked. It barely registered.

"Wolves?" Dahlia tossed her head back in a laugh of her own. "What wolves?" Motioning to all that was around them, she stated proudly. "This? This is family! We're among family here, Planty! Don't you see? Can't you tell? We're home!"

Home.

Home indeed.

For her.

Dahlia, the girl from East LA. Hometown girl. Local girl made good. Just as her historian father Alberto Dominguez-Alvarez was a local man made good. His books and scholarly lectures and presentations were full of their glory days, both past & present.

Children of the sun.

Chucos.

Chicanos.

He'd caught one of those presentations & lectures in Birmingham in his Pre-Zeppelin days. That's where he got Alberto's books. That's where he got a primer on Mexican culture. Pre-Columbian & current. On Mexican youth. Past & present. On her.

Her father had used her pictures as an example - if a rather self-indulgent one - of modern Mexicanidad. Mentioning her then current early enrollment in UCLA.

There was a collage of pictures of her with her acceptance letter. In a brown beret uniform in East LA where they hailed from. In her Quince dress from the society page. In a button down & jeans in the slightly more upmarket part of LA the family had then moved to. In a classic, demure dress in Mexico. Using her as an example of possibility, of accomplishment, of their multifacetedness. All in one.

Later, he admitted when questioned that yes, she had been in the Sunset Strip curfew protests that some had termed riots. But he stressed that they were protests. And social engagement, community engagement was not a crime and should not be considered a crime due to a difference in melanin between the protestors themselves or between them & those they were protesting against. A knowing reference to the Civil Rights Movement.

Neither Alberto nor Robert had no idea how prescient those words were. He would later. Later. Later when Dahlia showed pictures of both herself & her father in the East LA walkouts, backing up people back home. Backing up friends. Backing up family.

And again at the Chicano Moratorium.

One of the few Zeppelin gigs she had missed she missed on purpose, flying into LA to take part while they did a gig. She headed back to East LA where her family had moved back to by then. Ready to support. To protest. To be heard. The pics she later showed them showed them looking hopeful. Proud. Expectant.

That was before, due to unforseen circumstances, things went left that day. Dark. Deadly. Black.

As soon as he heard, Pagey was on the phone. Peter too. As soon as he heard from Dahlia herself - thankfully safe at home & able to take the call - that she & her family were fine, Pagey had her fly back out to meet them on their next stop on the next available flight. Pagey had her in his arms. Locked in his room with him. Grant assigned them - her really - a bodyguard, under his, Jimmy's & honestly everyone's agreement.

Saying another silent prayer for Ruben Salazar, the one casualty that day, and any others affected, Robert decided to shake the darkness from his mind.

He allowed himself to be pulled back into the light.

Pink light.

Raspberry light.

Strawberry light.

Warm light.

Her light.

He saw his teen self in his mind's eye as he was then at the presentation. Gawking at the pictures. She was bleeding beautiful. Two years younger than him. Where did they make birds like that? Brains and beauty. Dusky skinned determination. Heaven-sent & hip as hell. LA? East LA? Right then and there, he pledged that if he ever made it to the States, he had to go there, wherever that was. Los Angeles, he knew. How far east he'd have to go, he didn't.

What he also didn't know at that time - not until much later - was just how close just such a girl was to him then. Not just such a girl. That girl exactly. For the time was spring 1967, and not only was Alberto in England.

But so was Dahlia.

Alberto, of course, was lecturing Robert & others in the north in Birmingham.

Meanwhile, Dahlia at the time - as he would later find out - was staying southward in London.

She had left the hotel room her father had gotten her, leaving her to study for a paper she was going to do on English History as he traveled about. The hotel room then stood mostly empty. Instead, she saw fit to stay with another attendee of one of her father's lectures that he'd given in London before coming up north.

A friend.

A penpal.

An on again off again budding potential love & beau.

On Shooter's Hill.

In Pangbourne.

With one who would later - now - be his songwriting partner & close friend.

Yes.

With one James Patrick Page.

There she was holeing up with him. Hitting up his local haunts with him. Scotch of St. James in between her studies. Granny Takes a Trip between corrections of one draft's grammar most likely. Giving herself to him for the first time. First of many. First of many on that trip he figured as well. Knowing Pagey. In the car if he had one. In the boat. In the boathouse. Every bleeding where in the boathouse. Again knowing Pagey, Robert figured there was hardly a surface in the place, down to the couch he sat on that first day when he came down, that hadn't been so christened that time in '67.

Granny's, the Scotch, in bed (and other places) with a dusky, driven & foreign little brunette dish. All the places Robert could then only dream of being.

Now he had his dusky brunette by way of Maureen. But she was back home with the kids. And he'd had others since then. Plenty others. Many others. He even had several around him that day.

All his focus went to only one though.

One that was off limits.

Very decidedly off limits.

The one that was closest to him funny enough.

Or as Brenton Wood sang then.

"I run after you...

Like a fool would do...

But mama didn't raise no fool...

And I should know...

That baby you got it...

That's all I can say to you..."

Brenton even seemed to see in her what he did.

"You got soul, too much soul...

Foxy clothes, the cutest nose...

The greatest shape...

There's nothing fake about you...

Baby you got it..."

But when Brenton continued, Robert felt it once again hit too close for his liking.

"My friends say no can be...

You're not the girl for me..."

Bullseye!

Try as he might to distract himself with another sip of his beer, the next song was no better.

"Just pull them little strings...

And I'll sing you a song...

I'm your puppet...

Make me do right or make me do wrong...

I'm your puppet...

Treat me good and I'll do anything...

I'm just a puppet and you hold my string...

I'm your puppet...

Your walking, talking, kissing loving puppet...

I'm hanging on a string...

I'll do anything, love you 'n' kiss ya..."

"Here…" Dahlia snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked down. A peace offering. Another bottle of beer to replace his now drained one.

Another clink.

"Cheers." She locked eyes with him, pursed lips grinning behind her bottle.

"Why won't you...

Take a chance on me...

And let me show you...

How wonderful to love can really be...

I can love you for all eternity...

Take a chance on me..."

God damn it if it wasn't Brenton Wood again summing it all up again.

"Dahlia…" He breathed her name in more of a sigh than he wanted to allow at that point. Her name always sounded like a sigh. Always. From day one. From the first day he heard it. A sigh.  A dreamy sigh. To him. From others. And most importantly from him.

"What is it, Robert?" She slid her hand over his, giving a gentle squeeze again like she had in the car. "You feeling alright?" 

That voice.

That hand.

That silken skin.

That touch.

That tenderness.

A tenderness that was always so apparent in her.

A gentility amidst her all-encompassing warmth that ranged from the flickering of a flame, dancing & playful like the mirthful light that shone in her eyes to molten, incandescent, torrid & sizzling. It scorched him. Seared him. Searing him deep within. Burned him. Burned within him. Burned him inside out. Made him feel feverish.

And again, the song playing around them said it all.

"The touch of you (baby, baby, the touches from you)...

Is drivin' me out of my head, oh, boy (baby, baby, out of my head)...

What a touch from a little hand can do (can do)...

Especially coming from you…

Turn my life all around (all around)...

I can't seem to settle down…

Oh, baby…"

"Dahlia, I…" He started before he even knew what he was going to say.

Thankfully…

Mercifully…

He was cut off before he could figure out much more to say.

Both by a random lad in an awed hush. "Holy fuck! Now there's two of them, dude! Am I seeing things?"

But no…

He wasn't…

The lad wasn't seeing things…

Because there he stood in the doorway. All six feet of PreRaphaelitic glamour. A brooding Black Irish English stallion. The dragon. The "Dark Lord" himself.

Or as Dahlia gasped, trotting over to him excitedly.

"Baby!"

James Patrick Page.

Count on him to make his entrance to a song with a twangy guitar intro.

Of course he would.

Jimmy extended his arms, welcoming Dahlia in his embrace with a smile. He hugged her tight. Warmly. Protectively. He mumbled something to her to which Dahlia nodded. Pressing a kiss to her hair, her forehead & lifting her chin, then her lips, he claimed her. Sealing it with a kiss. Or three.

And as ever, Robert was left with the unintentional soundtrack summing it up for him.

"Love...

Love is strange...

Lot of people...

Take it for a game..."

~

Hope y'all enjoy~!...

As ever, this is forever under construction~...

[gallawitchxx]

🍻 the two of cups from the fuck-u-up tarot 🍻

When Ian stood to grab their empty bottles, Mickey was suddenly and inexplicably overwhelmed by the need to kiss him. To catch his perfect bottom lip in his teeth and pull it into his mouth. To taste him, consume him—be consumed by him. He slid out of the booth, coming to standing in front of him, their chests brushing slightly as Mickey caught his balance. “I can grab the next round too, Mick, don't—“ “Can I kiss you?” Mickey asked, wholly unsure of himself and yet forward as fuck. Ian’s face broke out in a warm grin, white teeth flashing and green eyes glittering. He set the bottles back on the table and stepped in towards Mickey, one hand moving to hold the back of his head and the other resting on his neck. “Would be a fucking shame if you didn’t,” he said, leaning down. Mickey’s breath hitched as Ian’s soft lips landed on his. Sweet. The pressure fucking perfect. Then, Ian opened his mouth to Mickey, slotting their lips together, their tongues meeting in a delicious slide of want and trust and something more. Fuck. Already. As if they’d known each other their entire lives. Today. Yesterday. Forever. It felt like…lightning. Something clicking into place. an exception to the rule | ch. 2: different table, different cards

[now updating on ao3]

[michaelvarrati]

Red, White…and Blaine? This week, Peaches and Michael are having an Idol Worship celebration of a filmmaker who is truly “Best in Show” – Christopher Guest!  In addition to discussing this comedy auteur’s foundational work in the mockumentary space, our hosts delve into the fabulous troupe of performers who populate his world. Joining the conversation is producer extraordinaire Brian Nolan, who shares how crucial WAITING FOR GUFFMAN was to his own experiences in the creative space. Then, acclaimed film & TV star Sam Pancake stops by to talk about the power of improv comedy in the “Guest style” and his analysis of that gently hilarious world. From Mitch & Mickey to HOME FOR PURIM, this episode has it all! Go! 

[starryserenade]

Myth & Magic Ch. 2: Frigid

Fic Description: When Tir na nÓg--the fabled land of the fae--falls to a dark power, the destinies of two young mice are set in motion. As each struggle to make their way in an ever-darkening world, they must learn to trust one another, or risk forever losing that which they hold most dear.

Chapter Description: Mickey seeks out the mysterious forest mentioned in Goofy's tale, but quickly uncovers more than he bargained for.

Links:

AO3

Prologue

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

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The roar of the river was hardly white noise over the downpour that had grown since Mickey had departed the village, and he was beginning to wonder if he was following directions that were just as goofy as the one who’d given them.  Both the coat he’d been gifted and his usual cloak had soaked through ages ago, leaving his fur matted and sopping wet as he went along, and it certainly didn’t help that the little bit of light that could make it through the clouds was quickly fading into night.  He was, however, rather stuck in that regard. If he turned back now, he still wouldn’t make it back before dark. So he trudged on, keeping his mind off of the predicament by humming a cheery tune.

But his mind wandered even so. If Goofy had told the truth–if this supposed forest was the root of all the madness, then how come he had never heard of it before? Sure, word was slow to travel these days, but he had traversed half the kingdom and heard countless stories and rumors as to the strange happenings.  You’d think someone would have mentioned it.  But no. Most believed it to be simple bad luck–after all, as few and far between as they had become, there were still enough sunny days to indicate the weather was purely natural. Others, the king included, did blame the fairies and owed it to their mischievous, selfish nature. This growing population had all but declared war on the fae folk–the whole kingdom had long since been ordered to report any sightings to the Royal Guard—but even so, they had never once mentioned a story like Goofy’s.  

And then, of course, there were the eccentric, elusive lot who dared oppose the king. Their stories were the most far-fetched but, at least in Mickey’s humble opinion, also the most intriguing. They claimed the storm was indeed a work of fairy magic, but not one born of mischief or maliciousness. Oh no…it was quite an intentional curse, and one brought upon by King Mortimer himself.  They held that he had so grieved the fae with his hatred and cruelty that they had no choice but to retaliate, cursing the land until he repented of his wretchedness. 

Mickey snorted as he thought of that last bit. If they were all waiting for the king to apologize, then the kingdom was as good as doomed. 

There were other whispers, of course, and Goofy’s tale added yet another theory to Mickey’s growing collection.  But as the night fell and his vision failed, he chuckled to himself and figured he could at least cross one off the list.

He was just about to turn back around when an enormous gust of wind plunged through the air, nearly sweeping him off his feet.  He held onto his cloak with all his strength, digging his heels into the muddy moors to keep from being swept back as he looked up into the sky. To his amazement, the clouds had begun to part and where there had been only darkness, the glow of twilight began to seep through.  

Then, as if struck by an imaginary hand, the chaos stilled and Mickey was left standing beneath a patch of open sky. He released a breath, then blinked slowly as a puff of steam followed and a flurry of white drifted across his vision.

Snow?

His nose twitched and overcome by disbelief, he slowly turned his head to face the world that lay ahead of him.  Just steps ahead, now bathed in a golden light, a forest draped in a thick blanket of snow awaited his presence. He did not move at first, paralyzed by astonishment.  Had it really been there all this time?

A breeze kicked up again, lighter than the first, pushing gently against his back. It grew stronger with every second that he did not move and finally, he stumbled forward, obliging the wind as it guided him towards the treeline.  When he approached the divide, the place where soggy green met icy white, he paused. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, though he was not quite sure why, and his breaths had quickened into nervous gasps. 

The light of twilight was rapidly dimming, covered once again by the clouds, and with every shred that disappeared the forest seemed to fade. Mickey was drawn in, his heart tightening as he stared into the depths, but that only frightened him more. He could not recall ever having felt this way in his years of wandering.

He glanced at the river–his guide thus far–and watched it continue into the shadow of trees. Before he had a chance to question himself further, the wind gathered a final, strong gust, and pushed him across the border.  

Mickey gasped as he tripped over the edge of grass and stumbled into the snow. Gentle quiet overtook his senses and for a moment, all of the anxiety in his chest melted into peace. Snow was falling in lazy drifts but moonlight still pierced through the cloud cover, lighting the endless ice in a sparkling silver.  

Rising to his full height, he brushed off the powder from his attire and looked about him. He could still see the rainy moors outside, but when he took a step back towards where he’d come, the wind kicked up again as if in protest. This, of course, was not much a comforting feeling. But the forest was lit by moonlight, and the plains outside were completely drenched in the darkness of night. Unless he wanted to be wet and lost, he figured it best to stay in the winter-swept world.

So with a sigh, he set his sights on the shadows before him. Just follow the river, he thought to himself, drawing in a shaky breath with cheeks flush of fear and cold.

The forest itself was not as thick as it appeared from the outside. Snow had coated most of the earth, leaving little room for foliage to grow and hiding much of the forest floor from view. Mickey was cautious as he stepped, knowing that all manner of pitfalls could be hiding beneath the blanket of ice. 

Even so, his cautiousness did not keep his curiosity and excitement from seeping through. As he journeyed deeper into the trees, ever following the sound of the river rushing in the gorge below, he was filled with a sense of wonder that made his eyes shine bright. Every rising stone and tree trunk seemed to him pillars of another world entirely, and the beauty with which they stood–strong and towering above his head–made his heart race. 

An owl sounded its cry and Mickey stopped, looking about him.  He was well enough versed in the knowledge of fairies that he knew such a sound meant one should proceed with the greatest of care, for secrets both dangerous and wondrous could be lurking about.  And sure enough, no sooner had he thought this than he spotted something peeking through the snow and quickly stopped in his tracks.

Leaning down, he carefully swept away the frost to uncover the object hidden beneath, a mangled net with metal woven in its threads. With a ginger touch he pulled it from the snow and found it had been hung within the tree itself, one of its lines still snagged in the branches above. His heart sank as he gave it another look. Feathers were twisted in the net, stained with a faded crimson. Something had been caught–painfully–and by the looks of the feathers which shone with a dazzling blue and speckled silver, he could only assume it had been an unfortunate fairy creature. Mickey scowled and thought back to the rumors of the king. Could this sort of thing have been the evil he committed which had angered the fairies so?  If that were true, it was no wonder Ireland had been cursed to such a desolate fate.

He swallowed and gently laid the net back down, pulling back with a hiss as it brushed against his wrist. It must have pricked him because a thin red line appeared where it had pressed through his fur. But he only grabbed a handful of snow,  pressed it against the minor wound, then bit his lip and stood decidedly. He certainly wasn’t going to let a tiny cut keep him from pressing onwards, not when much worse things had happened here.

He had gone only a few paces further when he became acutely aware that the sound of the river had grown faint. At first, he wondered if he might have mistakenly strayed from its banks but a quick look over the gorge revealed something else entirely. The waters here had been frozen solid, pools of moonlight shining on its surface like an illuminated path. Mickey grinned, carefully approaching the edge of the gorge then sliding down to the river bank. He took a tentative step onto the ice and when it held, yet another, until he was fully on its surface.

It did not often freeze in Ireland, save for the mountains, since the coastal air kept most of the kingdom just above freezing. And so it had been a good while since Mickey had seen any body of water frozen over, let alone set foot on one.  It took him a while to find his balance, but he laughed even as he slipped and fell. He’d always held there was fun to be had in every situation, but he barely had to try in this one…though he was grateful there was no one to see him behaving so childishly. Folks didn’t take too kindly to such behavior these days.

When he finally got the hang of moving around on the ice, it made travel quick work. It was nothing pretty, to be sure, and he clumsily wobbled with every push forward. But he enjoyed the feeling of racing forward nonetheless and let out a holler of excitement as he slid ahead, squinting against the sting of the snow on his face.  

And then, amidst the rushing air, came the sound of another voice.

Mickey jumped, abruptly slipping and landing face forward on the ice. 

“Ow…” he groaned, as he pushed himself up with great effort, rubbing his now-aching muzzle.  But his curiosity rapidly outweighed the pain and he sat straight, ears twitching as he listened for the sound. Slowly, it came drifting through the trees. A haunting, painful melody. The words were garbled and unclear but it was beautiful, and Mickey could not resist the temptation to follow.

The song led him in the same direction, growing louder with every step until, with a bit of a shock, he found himself led to the very edge of the river where the water, suspended in a thousand gleaming icicles, poured over the edge into an enormous lake below.

Its surface was as frozen as the river on which Mickey tread, save for a ring of water in the very center. The sky was clear here, with a sea of stars glittering about a full moon that shone down on a single island. And there, sitting atop a crumbling stone spire, a figure gleamed in the moonlight with her face lifted to the heavens in song. 

Fae.

Mickey felt he should hide, but could not move.  He could not pull his gaze away from the melodic silhouette, his heart pounding with every moment he stared.  The air was frigid but his face felt like fire. 

He was quite unaware of how close he’d stepped to the edge and almost didn’t notice when the surface began to crack. Though he stumbled backwards just in time as the icicles beneath him crumbled, the sound as they shattered on the lake below was all it took to pierce through the veil of song. The figure ceased her singing, turning her head to look his way. Though the distance blurred her form, he could see as she reeled back in panic then dove into the waters surrounding the island.  There was a flash of white, a flicker of a tail, and then nothing.

He reached for her as she vanished, as if that would do any good, but quickly drew back his hand to grasp his heart. It ached. Why?  Was it the song? Excitement? Fear? He had felt all those things before, but could not recall ever having felt like this.

Cheeks flushed and heart pounding, he stole a breath and looked out across the lake. Though the drop was too steep to simply jump down, the banks surrounding it were slanted enough to allow him passage, so he clambered away from the riverbed and made his way down below.  The ice beneath him groaned as he took his first step onto it, and he shuddered with the realization that it was far thinner than that of the river.  

Mickey tread lightly over the surface. With the song gone, the world had fallen eerily silent besides the occasional creak of shifting ice, but he kept his focus firmly on the island ahead. Whether the fairy would meet him there or not, he figured the crumbling ruins to be of some significance and was led by sheer curiosity to reach them.

He was about halfway there when a flicker under the ice caught his eye. He looked down and gasped, stumbling back at the sight of a shadow beneath him. But as he did, it darted away as well. Mickey kicked himself for his reaction, watching the place where the silhouette had vanished. Then gradually, he calmed his breaths and gathered enough courage to lower himself to his knees, gloves pressed against the ice as he did his best to look through. 

For a few minutes, there was nothing. His stillness only worsened the chill seeping through his bones, and he began to tremble in the cold.  This is crazy, he thought to himself, wondering why he was waiting for the strange creature to return. Sense nearly won him over but then, slowly, a silhouette began to emerge from the depths.

Mickey held his breath, at first terrified it was some other monster entirely. But as it came nearer, cautiously swimming to where he knelt, its form became clear. 

His eyes widened and he found himself unable to keep a faint smile from alighting on his lips. The figure from the island was now floating beneath him, clear as day beneath the ice, and he was surprised to find she looked much like him. Mouselike ears sat upon her head, curling gently in the sway of the water, and silky, black fur framed her face. But she was dainty too, with rosy cheeks and tender eyes that somehow, even in the depths of the icy waters, made her seem warm. He leaned in, his breath fogging the surface, and she flicked her white-scaled tail to float closer, tilting her head in curiosity.  And then, gingerly, she lifted a hand and placed it against his.

Through the ice, a heat rushed through Mickey’s body, flooding him with warmth, and he let out a shaky puff of air, overcome by what he could only assume was magic. The girl fluttered her tail with a grin, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of pink than before.

Mickey was quite unsure what to do at this point. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, wondering if she’d even be able to hear him, but was interrupted by a terrible creaking sound and the feeling of something giving way beneath his palm. The girl’s smile vanished and she drew back, glancing in horror at her hand and his.  Then she shook her head, and gestured rapidly towards the shoreline. But cracks had already formed beneath his feet and even though Mickey did his best to move, the shifting weight was all the ice needed to give way.  

He yelped as he plunged into the freezing waters, scraping his arm on a shard of ice as he fell and clambered for something to pull him out again.  But he found nothing but solid ice as he struggled to reach the surface. Panic set in and he pounded on the surface above before he felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder and whirled around to meet it. The girl floated before him and grabbed his wrist, yanking him away from where he was certain he’d fallen. In that moment, all the worst rumors and theories of the fae folk surfaced in his mind.

Stupid! He’d been stupid to think that the siren was friendly. It was her song that had led him here, and her touch that had made the ice give way. And now, he was certain she was intent on dragging him to his death.

He fought bitterly against her and managed to escape her grasp, swimming desperately in the other direction. Had he looked behind him, he would have spotted her pleading for him not to go that way, though it would have made little difference. Fear does strange things to the mind, and it had convinced him that her intentions were anything but pure.

Day was breaking and sunlight began to shine through the ice, giving Mickey what he thought was a clear view of his escape. The shadow of the island rose before him and he knew he’d reach open waters soon. But this glimmer of hope quickly dissolved, for another figure darted through the waters surrounding him. Then another. And another.  Until he was surrounded by shadows that leapt and reared as they drew near. He wished he could afford to scream, because he recognized all too quickly what these creatures were.

Kelpies.

The horses whinnied, a strange, gurgling sound under the water, and came closer to where he floated.  His lungs burned but their stare burned hotter. And then, with a sudden burst of speed, they rushed at him, nipping at his cloak and dragging him down. He had no hope of fighting against this lot, no matter how he thrashed and kicked, though he certainly tried. But the surface was rapidly slipping away and his arm ached from where he’d cut it when falling in. He had nearly given up when a flash of silver streaked through the herd.

The girl shouted something he couldn’t understand and he felt the horses loosen their grip as they turned to focus on her instead. She lifted her hand and the water shifted, a swarm of bubbles encompassing the vicious creatures. Then she grabbed Mickey once again, gathering him closer than before, and raced through the waters.  

He no longer cared much if she was friend or foe. If he was to perish then he much preferred this fate to the one he’d just been rescued from. By now, he’d grown numb and he blinked, his vision growing dark as he struggled to keep from releasing his held breath.

But the burning in his chest grew too great and, desperate for air, he opened his mouth and gasped for whatever he could, gagging against the water that flooded his lungs as his body went limp.  The girl stopped and looked at him, her face struck with fear as she searched for any place to break through to the surface.  Finding none, she looked back and placed a hand on his chest and another behind his head. Then, in a rush of desperation, she pulled him to her lips.

Mickey was too far gone to recognize what was happening or to understand why he could suddenly breathe, but he cherished the life that flooded back into his body and blinked his eyes open just as the girl pulled away. She stared at him briefly, a peculiar look in her gaze. Then she shook her head and, glancing towards the still-frozen surface, grabbed his hand in hers.  Heat flooded through them as it had before and, holding Mickey as tightly as ever, she lifted both their palms to the ice.

[werewolfsmile]

With You - Ch 6

The English, Whipplocke (Eli x Cornelia) Mature Rating, graphic violence, period-typical racism, post-canon, canon divergent, found family, angst, references to rape 9,303 words Read it on AO3

Wichita was bursting at the seams. The sheer density and infrastructure after days out on her own was jarring. Cornelia let her eyes roam over it all, drinking it in as she rode into the city with White Moon beside her.

They had not been far from Wichita – only a little over a day – and after leaving the wreckage of the outlaw camp behind, they had ridden for only an hour before camping to sleep the remainder of the night. The risk had been low, what with Mickey the only outlaw left alive and wounded. Still, Cornelia could see Eli's disapproving face in her mind, could hear the soft sigh of frustrated resignation.

She would give anything to see that look directed at her again.

Both Cornelia and White Moon had woken with the sun, so despite their weariness and bruised bodies, they had mounted up and pressed on. White Moon spoke on the journey, occasionally stumbling over some words but quite capable of articulating himself.

"Didn't expect to see you there," he had said with a shy smile on his face. Cornelia smiled back.

"Nor I! What happened to Flathead Jackson? I thought you were travelling with him. Did he not keep his word?"

"Oh, he did," White Moon confirmed. "Were in Kansas City. Saw poster of Sergeant Whipp. It said you was looking for him. Knew that would send bad folk after him. Had to go warn him. Maybe bring him to you." He shrugged and Cornelia's heart ached for the genuine kindness from this young boy.

"But how did you know where to look for him?" she had asked and instantly received a glance that was fondly exasperated.

"I didn't. But knew I'd have a better idea than you."

Cornelia had been mildly offended at the time; White Moon had not travelled for weeks with Eli. Yet, on reflection, she began to understand White Moon's meaning. He had been on the move for much of his life, like Eli. Of course his own experiences were similar enough to lend him a unique insight.

"How'd you end up with those ghastly outlaws?" she had asked and White Moon grimaced, looking abashed.

"Ran ahead without looking. Got ambushed two days ago. Thought they would kill me." He looked so young and vulnerable in that moment that her heart ached, reminded sharply of her own son. "Didn't. Kept me alive, said they could do with a slave. Then you came along."

"Oh, White Moon. I'm glad I did, even if it was under such terrible circumstances."

He had smiled then, bright and brilliant.

"So am I."

Now, White Moon kept his horse close to Cornelia's as they rode through the streets. Many people were too focused on their own lives to pay them any mind, but there were some that paused and stared, some that shot him filthy looks or cursed under their breaths.

Cornelia glared back at every single one of them. How dare they think they had any right to pass judgement on a child!

She shot a glance back towards White Moon, chewing absently at the inside of her lip. They had travelled together without question but she could not help but wonder if White Moon wouldn't be better off elsewhere. She had left him with Flathead Jackson for a reason. Fair enough, his broken leg seemed to have healed without any adverse effects, but it didn't change the fact that this lifestyle she had embraced was no life for a child.

Cornelia had been mulling over this for the last hour. She had no desire to detour from her search for Eli, yet neither could she simply ignore the problem that White Moon posed.

"I will take you back to him, if you wish," she said, breaking the silence between them. White Moon shot her a strange glance and she continued. "Flathead Jackson. You were safe with him, weren't you? You had a new life, a future. There's no need for you to stay out here. I'll take you back."

White Moon looked away, frowning as he gathered his thoughts. His quiet demeanour was so unexpectedly reminiscent of Eli that Cornelia's heart ached.

"There is need," he finally said. "Like I said. Find Sergeant Whipp. I got better chance of that than you."

"Really, White Moon, I can manage just fine on my own. In fact-"

"Not just that," he cut over her. White Moon looked down, his lips tightly pursed together for a moment. "Want to see him for myself. Got … things to say."

He looked so young but serious that Cornelia's heart ached anew. For just a moment, she could see her own son on the horse beside her – the weight of the world in his eyes combined with far too deep an understanding of pain and suffering for one so young. Tears pricked her eyes and she had to look away.

White Moon could not be any older than her son. Just a boy, alone against a world that was full of so much violence and hatred towards him. Cornelia had thought she was finished grieving her son. After exacting revenge on Melmont, she had felt peace again. But now, the pain lanced through her, just as sharp and searing as it ever was.

She couldn't speak past the lump in her throat, so she let White Moon's words hang between them. Instead, she turned her focus back to the city.

It took a little while to find the police department – not a sheriff, not in a city of this size – but at last the building came into view. Cornelia dismounted and tethered her horse to the hitching post, with White Moon slow behind her.

"Stay close to me," she said when he finally stepped away from his horse, eyes still darting nervously around. At her words, White Moon nodded and followed so close he was practically on her heels.

The police department was bustling with activity. A woman screamed and sobbed as an officer dragged her to the cells. The desk clerk rushed with an armload of documents, only to spill them all over his desk. The man he was serving tapped his foot impatiently and rolled his eyes, muttering about incompetence. The door to the Chief of Police's office opened and a rough-looking man stepped out. A wad of cash in one hand, he narrowed his eyes at them and hastily pocketed it.

"What're you lookin' at?" the man growled as he stalked past them. Cornelia raised her eyebrows and muttered to White Moon after the man had exited.

"Charming place."

Stepping around the impatient man at the desk, Cornelia aimed straight for the Chief of Police's office. She rapped her knuckles on the open door, smiling confidently when he looked up.

"Chief Daniels?" she said after a quick glance at the name plate on his desk. He stood and she strode in, offering her hand fearlessly. "Lady Cornelia Locke. I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time."

"Locke, huh?" Chief Daniels shook her hand but regarded her through narrowed eyes. "Your name is familiar to me."

"I should hope so. The sheriff in Columbus assisted me in the creation of some posters for a missing friend of mine. I requested that any information regarding the whereabouts of my friend be forwarded here, to Wichita. And thus, here I am! Have you received any word?"

Chief Daniels sighed and folded his arms. His eyes cut from Cornelia to White Moon hovering behind her.

"D'you have any idea how much of a risk you been taking, ma'am? Putting up posters for a Pawnee scout is one thing, but travelling with one of them?" He gestured to White Moon and Cornelia felt her fingers curl into fists. "That's painting one hell of a target on your back. I got no interest being involved in that kind of trouble, nor do I want that kind of trouble in my city! I'll thank you to leave now with that … what is he, half-breed son of yours?"

"How dare you! And so what if he was?" Cornelia snapped. "It is no business of yours what this boy is, nor is it any business of yours whom I travel with!"

"Careful now, ma'am. Don't want to forget your place. You ain't in England no more. Your fancy title and authority don't mean much out here." Chief Daniels lowered his hands to rest on his hips – only an inch away from his guns.

"Oh, don't go pretending to know anything about me! I've bled more for this country than you'll ever know! My place?" She scoffed. "My place is what I choose it to be. That's what you do out here, isn't it? Reinvent yourselves? In the land of freedom? You have no idea what I was before – nor is it any of your business. No, no, your business pertains to the posters you have stuck up on the wall out there. And that is why I am here!"

Cornelia dropped her own hands onto her hips and boldly thrust her chin out in a challenge. After all she had endured in her search for Eli, she was not about to be waylaid by some arrogant police officer.

Chief Daniels leant forwards, his thick brows drawn low over his eyes in a scowl.

"Your posters never should have been made in the first place, lady. That sheriff in Columbus forgot his place when he did that."

"All I want is the information that must have been sent through. Then I'll be gone. Wouldn't it be easier to give us both what we want?"

"It would be easier if you had never brought this trouble to my city in the first place!" Chief Daniels sighed and rubbed at his temples. "I don't want blood on the streets, ma'am. But I got bounty hunters crawling all over the place right now, and honestly? They're the least of your worries. If word gets out you've been here asking about your poster, you're gonna have all manner of people coming after you for that reward."

"Then give me what I want and I'll be gone!" Cornelia wanted the throttle him in exasperation. He was making this whole thing ten times harder than it had to be.

"I want you to take down the posters, ma'am. They were issued by you, they have to be cancelled by you before they can come down. So that's what I'm asking. Send a telegram to the sheriff of Columbus, cancelling the posters. Then I'll give you all the information you want."

"No!" Cornelia protested. "I can't take them down, not until I find Eli!"

"Ma'am-"

"You don't understand, this country is too big. He could be anywhere by now! If I am to have any hope of finding him, I need those posters – and I need that information you have. So why don't you give that to me first, and if it tells me where Eli is, then I swear to you, I will send that telegram straight away."

Chief Daniels frowned and sat down in his chair. Cornelia's heart sank.

"Posters come down first. If that don't happen, you'll never get your information. Make the smart choice, ma'am."

"This is no choice at all!" There was a hint of resignation in her tone – barely there, but enough for Chief Daniels to hear it and recognise it. A flash of victory passed over his face before he bellowed out into the room beyond.

"Deputy!"

"Cornelia." At the soft voice, she looked back at White Moon. The boy still glanced nervously at Chief Daniels, but spoke furtively to her. "I will help. I can find him. Trust me."

There was no time to respond, as a new man entered the office. Of similar age to Cornelia, he glanced curiously at her and White Moon before directing his attention to Chief Daniels.

"Sir?"

"Lady Locke, this is Deputy Chief Owen Flint. He will personally escort you to the post office where you will send the telegram to cancel the posters. Once that is done, he will pass on all the relevant information you have requested."

"What guarantee do I have that you are even withholding information from me?" Cornelia retorted and folded her arms. Chief Daniels frowned but it was Deputy Flint's huff of amusement that drew her attention.

"Oh, there's information for you, alright. Lots of it."

Cornelia raised her eyebrows at that and nervous energy gripped her chest. She was so close!

"Then let's get on with this."

Deputy Flint took a moment to gather his effects but in short order, he was leading Cornelia and White Moon across the city streets. The post office was only a few streets down and he lazed against the wall whilst Cornelia dictated the telegram to the clerk and paid for it. She hesitated before she could turn away, mind flashing back to a promise she had made before she returned to America.

There was no time for a proper letter but she had no idea when she would next be near a post office. So Cornelia hastily scrawled a short note to be sent to her parents.

Dear Mother and Father,

I have no time for a full letter so this will have to suffice. I am well and safe. I have yet to achieve my goals but there is hope. It might be some time before I can write again. I trust you are both well.

Your daughter,

Cornelia.

With that letter safely in the hands of the clerk, Cornelia ensured White Moon was still by her side before marching determinedly towards the deputy.

"All done?" Flint asked far too casually as they approached.

"I'm a lady of my word," Cornelia replied impatiently and held out a hand. "My information?"

Deputy Flint gave a wry smile and pulled out a thick envelope bound in twine. Cornelia took it, eyes wide in disbelief and heart slowly sinking in her gut.

"It weren't no joke when I said there was lots of information for you. Folks all over been sendin' word of your man. Doubt any of it will be of use, but who knows? Might be some luck in there somewhere. Anyhow, that's all I have for you. Good day to you, ma'am."

He tipped his hat and strolled away. Cornelia fought the urge to call after him; there was nothing else he could do for her now. Instead, she untied the twine and stared inside the envelope at the plethora of telegrams.

"White Moon, can you read?"

"Some," he said.

"Good. We need to go through every single one of these and try to figure out which one is genuine."

There had to be something. Cornelia refused to believe otherwise. The magic had guided her thus far, surely it would not fail her now! She ran her fingers over the pouch around her neck before pulling out the telegrams and handing half of them to White Moon.

It was arduous work. White Moon was slow in his reading but she trusted his judgement when he put the telegrams aside. She sifted through her own, trying not to grow disheartened. There were many telegrams reporting of an Indian man seen killing a woman, or stealing from a shop – or some other ridiculous crime. Cornelia doubted any of them were true and fought the urge to throw all the telegrams on the ground.

"Cornelia?"

Her head whipped up. White Moon frowned at one telegram, brow furrowed as he tried to shape the words with his mouth. He shook his head and held it out to her.

"Maybe something," he said. "Not sure."

Cornelia took the slip of paper and scanned over the message herself. She faltered, then read it again, slower this time. From a sheriff in Colorado. He had seen a man matching Eli's description south of Pueblo, travelling with a young Indian girl.

Girl? What girl? The hope that had started to rise wavered but Cornelia pushed past it to read the rest of the message. She could ponder over that part later.

The sheriff had spoken of the posters issued by Lady Cornelia Locke. Upon hearing this, the man had raced away, headed for Nebraska.

Cornelia chewed her lower lip and stared hard at the telegram. It sounded like it could be Eli – racing madly to catch up with her was certainly something she had imagined he would do! But she had no way to verify it. And what of this girl that was supposedly travelling with him? Eli did not have any children left, nor had he shown a particular interest in gaining another child.

Better on my own.

Even so, there was something about the message that spoke to her, called to her soul. Cornelia suddenly realised her hands were shaking and she set the telegram down. White Moon reached out to her, his hand hovering nervously over her own as he watched her in concern.

"I'm sorry, I don't …" A lump rose in her throat. Either a sob or a laugh or a combination of the two, Cornelia could not tell. She sucked in a deep breath and touched a hand first to the osprey skull pouch, then the locket.

"That the one?" White Moon asked. Cornelia could only nod, half afraid she was wrong even as she did so. White Moon picked the telegram up, eyes working to read it again.

"Wait, no. We should check all of them. Just to be sure."

Cornelia struggled to read the other telegrams. False leads or wrong descriptions, they all blurred before her eyes as her mind looped back to the other one over and over again. At last the final telegram was placed aside and she let herself take the other one back from White Moon, reading it again.

It had to be Eli. It had to be! Sent by a sheriff, a respectable person in society! If the word of such a man could not be trusted, then there truly was no hope for any of them. Drawing a deep breath, Cornelia closed her eyes and crushed the telegram to her chest.

"This is it, White Moon. It has to be!"

He smiled at her, tentative but hopeful.

"What now?"

Cornelia checked the date on the telegram then fished out her maps and sat down on the steps of the post office. White Moon joined her, both of them ignoring the people that muttered and moved around them in favour of poring over the maps.

"The telegram said Eli was seen around here just under a week ago. Now, assuming he has been travelling fast since then that would put him … around about here. So if we set out today and travel fast ourselves, hopefully we can intercept him … in this area."

She pointed to a spot in the south-west of Nebraska. White Moon frowned.

"There nothing out there. Lot of room to miss him."

"That's why I've got you with me," Cornelia shot back and nudged him. White Moon ducked his head and grinned. "If we get to this location and we can't find any sign of Eli, we'll head to Columbus. Check for him there."

"It'll be long ride," White Moon said as she folded up the maps. Urgency vibrated through her and she fought the desire to go running head-long right now. "We'll need supplies."

"Then we'll get them, and be fast about it. Oh, White Moon! This is it, I can feel it! Magic!"

They moved rapidly from there. Cornelia paid the local blacksmith handsomely for his best but fastest job. Their horses would need to be in top condition for the journey ahead. The general store had most of the supplies they would need and Cornelia wasted no time haggling over price. Her excitement was infectious and White Moon was soon rushing beside her, a bounce in his step and a gleam in his eye.

Laden with food and water for both themselves and the horses, along with blankets, fur coats, and medicinal plants and herbs, Cornelia and White Moon finally mounted up. It did not take long to leave Wichita and they set a steady pace.

Time fell into a frustrating crawl from there. Logically, Cornelia knew they were making good time by pacing the horses as they did but she still chafed at the bit. The days rolled from one to the next. She felt every moment, every second in excruciating detail. If only she could set heel to flank and gallop madly across the plains!

White Moon kept her sane. He sensed her frustration – impossible to miss, truly – and filled the time they spelled the horses with stories of his family and his tribe. Cornelia could not help but notice the similarities between the beliefs of the Cheyenne and the Pawnee. Such thoughts only made her ache all the more for Eli – she wanted to hear that low, smooth voice sharing the stories of his people under the glow of the stars.

The land grew colder with each mile that they travelled north-west. Cornelia struggled to sleep each night. Not because she was too cold, but because her mind worried that Eli was. Irrational, she knew. He had been born on these plains, of course he knew how to survive out here. But these facts did nothing to ease the anxiety plaguing her.

Tension grew in her with each day that dragged by. When the sun rose on the morning of the seventh day, Cornelia felt about ready to snap in half. Both she and White Moon had consulted her maps that morning, and her heart pounded so loud that it rang in her ears now.

If her calculations were correct, they could encounter Eli today! Her blood surged through her veins at the thought and she fought to calm herself – and failed. The landscape was so vast, it would be easy to miss him. Yet she could not stop herself from straining to see into the distance, from whirling to face every noise or flicker of movement.

"Need to relax," White Moon said when they spelled the horses late that morning. "We're on the right path. We will find him. Needs time."

"Oh, I can't! I'm trying, honestly, but this is impossible. He's out here, White Moon. So close I feel like I could touch him! But …" Cornelia shrugged helplessly and bit back the urge to scream in frustration.

White Moon frowned and crouched suddenly, his fingers tracing over the earth. The hairs on the back of Cornelia's neck stood up and she rushed to join him.

"What? What is it? Is it Eli?"

"Not sure," White Moon said. "Horse tracks, but more than one horse. Carrying riders. You want we follow them?"

Cornelia bit her lip, staring around the plains. What if these tracks did not belong to Eli's horse? What if following them took them hours off course? She clutched the locket and bird skull around her neck, desperately seeking the strength of their magic.

"What do you think?" she asked White Moon impulsively. "You said you could find Eli out here, well, now's your chance. If you think it could be him, we'll follow the tracks."

Reckless, perhaps, to put all her trust on the shoulders of a teenage boy. No, White Moon had crossed paths with her again for a reason. Cornelia had to believe that. So she kept her gaze steady on him now and waited for his answer.

"Haven't seen other tracks for long time," he replied. "These are travelling good direction. Could be worth the chance. I think we should follow them."

"Alright. Then we'll follow them."

Mounting up again, they adjusted course and followed the tracks. Time wore on and Cornelia pretended she did not feel the hours tearing at her nerves. As the sun sank lower but not quite to the horizon yet, White Moon stopped abruptly.

"What is it?"

"Tracks are gone. Too many riders, coming from other direction. They're mixed."

Cornelia's horse snorted and fidgeted beneath her, feeding off her nerves. She did not even bother trying to calm the animal; no point if she could not even calm herself. Instead, she watched and waited as White Moon cast further and further afield, trying to pick up the tracks again.

The terrain was rocky, with sharp drops from one shelf to another in random places. White Moon shook his head and Cornelia's heart sank.

"Too much rock," he said. "No tracks to read on rock."

Still, he did not give up. At length, he called out and Cornelia hurried her horse over to him. White Moon had found the tracks again – but they had changed direction.

"What? No! This can't be Eli! Why would he change direction and head away from Columbus?" Cornelia cried in dismay. White Moon shrugged.

"Same horse. No doubt of that. Strange, though. Other tracks all going the same direction. Can't see any heading elsewhere."

Deep dread swept over her. What if something had happened to Eli? No, she couldn't bear it! Being this close to him, only to lose him being only days apart? It was too much!

"How far behind are we?" she asked.

"Not long. An hour or two."

"We can catch that up. Quickly!"

They raced across the terrain, only slowing when White Moon needed to pick up the trail again. The sun sank further, stinging their eyes as it reached to embrace the horizon. Cornelia could not help but notice they were headed straight for Wyoming. Her gut churned at the thought; she had never planned to return there.

When the sun finally hit the horizon and began to sink below, Cornelia caught sight of something ahead of them. A smear, just a blurred smudge at first, but gradually taking shape. Her heart froze then flipped in her chest, her breaths stuttering. She spurred her horse desperately, leaving a surprised White Moon racing to catch up.

The shape became more defined. Silhouetted against the sun and still too far to make out clear details – but she could see enough. Hope began to swell in her chest and she tried to fight it – she might still be wrong – but the magic singing in her veins was too strong to ignore.

She recognised the stride of that horse. The shape upon it could only be that of a person – ??a person with a familiar blanket wrapped around them.

A grin spread across her face and she kicked her horse again, asking for more. Her hat tore off her head but she never felt it leave, too consumed by the horse and rider coming slowly into focus before her. Cornelia sucked in a deep breath and let her voice ring across the plains.

"Eli! Eli!"

The horse ahead of her slowed down, and the figure turned back to face her.

~*~

Eli grew stronger with each day. Red Feather's medicine was just as potent as any he had ever received in his own village, and he never felt even a hint of infection. The pain lessened and mobility returned to his arm. Lifting the saddle onto his horse was still a challenge but Red Feather helped without complaint.

It was an amusing sight; she barely reached higher than his elbow and his horse's wither was higher again. Nor was his saddle light. Yet Red Feather still seized it with grim determination and swung hard to get it over the tolerant horse's back.

Between the two of them, they got the horses saddled and packed each day. Eli pushed them further and harder as his strength returned. Nebraska loomed ahead and he could not shake the thoughts of Cornelia from his mind.

Why had she stayed in America? Why had she not left? And why did she choose now to search for him? Why the delay?

Not to mention her health. Was she well? Eli's heart twisted savagely to think of her, weakening each day as that cruel sickness spread its poison through her veins. Hatred, hot and wild, gripped him without warning and he clenched his teeth, wishing he could bring Melmont back if only to tear him apart, piece by piece, all over again.

It would never be enough. No vengeance could ever right the wrongs that Melmont had wrought on Cornelia – on so many innocent people. Such vile cruelty, such abhorrent wickedness. How could it exist in the same world as a woman so good and kind, who saw the best in others until they saw it too?

Eli had thought himself numb to the violence of humanity. Now he knew better. Every evil act that he witnessed was a wound upon himself – a punishment, justly deserved, for his own apathy. He had not lied when he told Cornelia he was a killer; Eli deserved a slow death for the crimes he had committed. He had expected no less, either at the hands of white men or the hands of his own people, it did not matter.

But then Cornelia crossed his path. She breathed life back into his lungs, renewed his belief in hope. And as they travelled together, he felt the wounds on his soul starting to heal. Eli felt more connected with the man he wanted to be than he had for years. No longer would he ignore the suffering and injustices of his people. Wherever he could, he would right the wrongs and fight for what they were owed.

Starting here, with Red Feather. He couldn't bring her parents back, nor her tribe – but he could protect her, raise her, teach her how to survive.

Eli ignored the doubts that tried to clamour in his mind. He couldn't even keep his own children and wife alive – how could he protect this girl? No point in trying to change the past. Best to keep his eyes forward and fight for the future.

His eyes flicked to Red Feather now. Riding beside him on her dark bay gelding, the wind tousling loose strands of her hair. Wrapped in a dark blue blanket and with her eyes fixed on the endless horizon. As though sensing his gaze on her, Red Feather turned to look at him and raised her brows.

"How long till sunset?" he asked her, eyes flicking towards the sky. Red Feather squinted at the sun before replying.

"Four hours," she said, full of confidence. Eli nodded in approval.

How long until she did not need such skills anymore? How long before the landscape changed so drastically that they went from strangers in their own country, to ghosts? Eli hastily looked away from her and fought to ignore such thoughts.

"Best make use of them," he said and urged his horse on.

They stopped at a watering hole that evening to refill their flasks. Eli longed to push on further but Red Feather was yawning and his shoulder throbbed. So they made camp just over the ridge from the watering hole, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention.

The bounty hunters showed up just before dusk. One moment Eli was relaxing and resting his arm as Red Feather hummed while plaiting her horse's mane. The next, he was on his feet with rifle cocked and aimed in the direction of the whinny he had heard.

It only took a couple of minutes for the bounty hunters to emerge. Riding over the ridge, they drew their reins and stared down at Eli and Red Feather. Four of them. No one said anything. One man reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

"Yep," he said to his companions. "Sure looks like 'im."

"We're not open to company at our fire," Eli said and heard movement behind him. He did not need to look to know it was Red Feather. Holding her own rifle, probably kneeling to brace the rifle against the saddles.

"What d'ya think? Poster don't say nothin' 'bout no child," said the man to the left of the first. The first man scratched idly behind his ear and shrugged before stuffing the paper back in his pocket.

"Way I see it, the child don't matter. Live or die, she ain't part of the equation. But you." The first man looked up and stared Eli straight in the eye. "Well now. Someone's willin' to pay a lot of money for you."

Cornelia's poster. Stupid, foolish! How could she not think of the consequences of such a thing? Eli shoved those thoughts aside; he had to stay focused right now.

"I know the woman who made that poster," Eli said, careful to keep his tone even. "On my way to see her now. No need for you to get involved."

The first man laughed and shook his head.

"See now, that's where yer wrong. Can't claim the bounty without you."

"Not a bounty," Eli shot back. "Poster only asks for information." He remembered that much from his brief conversation with the sheriff back in Colorado. But what if he was wrong? What if Cornelia had actually issued a proper warrant for him?

No. A poster requesting information was one thing, but a proper bounty? She would never be so foolish!

"Sure," said the first man. "But imagine how much bigger that reward will be when we drag yer hide straight to her ladyship!"

The men cackled and Eli tensed. His mind raced, cataloguing the distance to the horses and the nearest solid cover. Not much, not out here. This part of the prairie was too barren for a gunfight.

"I ain't goin'," he said. "And that lady? She don't want me harmed."

"What makes you think you know anything about what a lady wants?" the second man retorted and the men sniggered again.

"Like I said. I know her. Did her a favour once. I'm not her enemy. So don't push it."

"Clint, I'm getting' real tired of the sound of his heathen voice," said the third man and the others nodded. The first man moved his hand to the pistol on his hip.

"Right you are. Can't say I'm too fond of it, myself."

Eli took a deep breath, adrenaline flooding his veins.

A gunshot cracked across plains. The horses screamed and one reared as the first man toppled from his horse – falling forwards. Eli ignored his bewilderment. He fired at the second man. Red Feather's gun resounded behind him. A bullet whizzed past his ear and he spun, kicking dirt as a distraction as he fired again.

Another gunshot, from neither party. Another man fell. And just like that, the prairie was silent again. Eli stared, on high alert.

There was someone else out here.

He felt the tremor of hoofbeats through the earth before he heard or saw anything. The rider came over the ridge – a lone rider, with a broad hat upon their head. The horse halted and the rider dismounted with rifle in hand.

Eli's heart lurched. The figure was decidedly feminine.

No, it couldn't be! Could it? To find him out here, in this vast wilderness, was surely impossible! Ah, but Cornelia had always claimed they were joined by magic. What else could this be?

The woman stepped closer and Eli's hopes soared – only to crash violently as the firelight reached her.

A black woman, covered in the dust of the road but with a harsh mark of vengeance in her eyes. She cursed the bounty hunters, then lifted her eyes to Eli and Red Feather. Her rifle lowered.

"Don't go mindin' me, you folks," she called out in a voice that was far more amicable than Eli had been expecting. "I ain't here to cause trouble for you. Only for them."

Eli glanced back at Red Feather – relieved to see her alive and whole – then slowly lowered his own rifle. His shoulder twinged with the movement.

"They hurt you?" he asked and the woman nodded.

"Came for my man. Said he'd done some crime, of which he had no hand in! Wouldn't listen when we said so. Dragged him away in the middle of the night. Next I hear, the sheriff strung him up!" The woman bowed her head and made the gesture of the cross over herself. "My Leonard ain't never hurt a fly. What they accused him of weren't nothin' but a lie! So I made a vow to find his killers and bring them to justice. Finally! I done just that!"

With those words, the woman burst into tears. Red Feather came to Eli's side, glancing nervously up at him. He placed a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. For all that this woman had appeared out of nowhere and in a hail of bullets, he did not fear any threats from her. On the contrary, he felt as though he trusted her.

"I'm sorry," the woman said through her sobs. "I … I don't mean to …"

"No rush," Eli said and returned to the campfire. The last of the sunlight had almost completely faded now, and he built the fire up brighter before sitting. Red Feather stared at him as though he was crazy but reluctantly joined him.

The woman slowly composed herself. She took some time to inspect each of the four bodies, muttering curses over them and kicking them on her way. Eli pulled some rations from his pack and set a pot of water to brewing over the fire.

"What are you doin'?" Red Feather hissed at him.

"This woman ain't our enemy," he replied, answering her real concern. "If anything, we got her to thank for getting through this alive."

The woman eventually joined them. Wiping tears from her face and leading her horse by the reins, she smiled at them before picketing her horse off to the side.

"I must say, I didn't expect to meet other folk at the end of all this," she said as she settled on the other side of the campfire. "The name's Beryl. I thank you for lettin' me join you."

"Eli," he said in response but did not offer Red Feather's name. Nor did Beryl ask. "We don't got much food but you're welcome to share it. Didn't expect no help to come out here. Least of all from one such as you."

Beryl laughed and nodded as she brushed down her clothes, as though suddenly self-conscious of her appearance.

"I can't fault you there. Never expected to go out huntin' and killin' men, myself! Yet here I am. Somehow still alive despite all the violence. Got no way to explain that."

I mean that we're here at all. When only this afternoon you were tied up there, I was lying down over there, both about to get killed and yet here we are. And it's everyone else that's dead!

Like it was magic.

Like it is magic.

Eli's hairs stood on end and his heart panged in longing. For a moment, he had heard Cornelia's voice, as clearly as the day she said those words. He swallowed hard and struggled to bring his focus back to Beryl.

"I'm glad you're here, though," Beryl said and smiled at them both through damp eyes. "It's a relief, to not be alone right now. After I lost Leonard …" She bit her lower lip and eventually shook her head. "He would want me to celebrate his life, not stay mournin' his loss. So, celebrate with me! We are all still alive and those lyin' men are dead!"

She produced a bottle of alcohol and was only too eager to share. Eli, in turn, shared their meagre food supplies. He drank sparingly and firmly said no when Red Feather reached for the bottle. Beryl laughed and launched into a story of her own daughter – lost at the tender age of four, many years ago now.

The night deepened and Beryl gradually fell under the sway of the alcohol. When at last she slumped on her side, empty bottle slipping from her fingers, Eli rose and retrieved the blanket from her horse. He laid it over her before going to untack her horse and hobble it with their own.

"Why are you helpin' her?" Red Feather asked, appearing suddenly and quietly by his side. Eli glanced back at Beryl.

"Because it's the right thing to do."

Red Feather said nothing in response to that. Eli headed to the dead men, to drag away the bodies and search their horses before setting them loose. Wordlessly, Red Feather joined him. The grim but necessary work was done in short order, and Eli sent Red Feather to bed when they returned to the fire.

"No," she said stubbornly and shook her head. "Don't wanna sleep, not with that lady here."

"Red Feather, she will sleep till mornin'. You don't need to worry about her."

"It's not just her I'm worried about." She gestured to his shoulder and Eli looked down to see blood seeping through his jacket. He blinked in surprise; he must have popped some stitches during the gunfight but he had felt nothing.

"I'll be fine," he said.

"No," Red Feather repeated. She retrieved her rifle and sat on her bedroll with her back to the fire, eyes scanning the darkness beyond. "You sleep, I'll keep watch."

Affection for this young girl burst through him. Eli sighed and dropped a hand to her head before retiring to his own bedroll. He would not be so foolish as to let himself sleep. All he had to do was wait for Red Feather to doze off, then he would tuck her in and take up his post.

It took longer than he expected. Stubborn to a fault, Red Feather doggedly kept herself awake. Eli realised he was lightly napping and tensed his muscles repeatedly to help shake off his weariness. At last, he looked over to see Red Feather slumped over her rifle, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Eli carefully removed the rifle and covered her in her blanket. Then he stoked the fire and sat against the saddles to keep watch over the rest of the night.

He was weary come sunrise but that was a small price to pay for keeping them safe. By the time Beryl stirred and groaned over her aching head, both Eli and Red Feather were up and on their way to packing up camp.

"Where will you go?" Eli asked Beryl, once she had shaken off the worst of her fugue and could manage a wry smile.

"Burlington. It's only a half day's ride and I got people there I can trust."

Same direction as them, then. Eli glanced at Red Feather, before telling Beryl she could travel with them that far. Red Feather huffed but offered no other protest. Beryl was quick to accept the offer.

They rode off under the rising sun. Beryl chatted freely – just like Cornelia – and the hours slipped by. Before long, signs of civilisation rose around them and Burlington became a dark smear on the horizon. Beryl thanked them for their assistance, wished them luck, then rode off into the town.

Eli set a faster pace from there. Red Feather seemed grateful for the change in speed as well, urging her gelding to pull out in front of Eli time and time again. They devoured the miles before them, and Eli let his thoughts return to Cornelia.

Not long now. Perhaps another week, maybe a bit longer. Then they would be back in Columbus. He would finally track down Cornelia and get to hold her in his arms – right after he berated her for all her foolish decisions.

It snowed the night before they reached Nebraska. Eli woke in the small hours to the feel of tiny, cold flakes against his skin. Dread twisted through his gut and he lay there for some time, staring up at the cloud-covered sky and wishing he could see the stars.

Red Feather was delighted in the morning, kicking up the snow despite the cold air that made her shiver and hug her arms. Eli let her enjoy the moment, but pushed them harder again when they mounted up once more.

He could not bear the thought of Cornelia out here in this. With her health and how harsh this environment could be, winter on the plains could very easily be the death of her.

Still, the snow did not linger. It melted away under the fierce sun, leaving only muddy soil behind to mark its presence.

"How much further?" Red Feather asked in a whine one day. They had not been in Nebraska for long but their increased pace was clearly taking its toll on her.

"Week still to Columbus," he replied. Red Feather sighed dramatically and Eli brought his horse to a halt. She glanced up hopefully as she did the same. "We'll rest here. 'Bout time for lunch, anyhow."

Red Feather happily jumped down and flopped on her back. Eli rolled his eyes and smoothly dismounted. The terrain was rocky around here, with random drops from one plateau outcrop down to another. High up as they were, it gave them a good vantage point to see for miles around. Eli felt comforted by this and loosened his horse's cinch. Red Feather had the right idea. A break would benefit them both.

They ate and drank and lounged on the hard ground. Eli found himself drifting and fought to keep himself away – but the warm sun lulled him, and the sound of Red Feather humming soothed him.

He was not aware of falling asleep, nor how long he slept. One moment he was blissful and relaxed despite the gnawing desire to find Cornelia. The next, Red Feather's sharp cries brought him crashing back to awareness.

"Eli! Someone's coming!"

He leapt to his feet, all remnants of sleep instantly gone. Red Feather pointed in the direction they had come from and he saw the shape of riders easily enough. His gut soured and he reached for his rifle.

"Get your gun. Then get on your horse." His words were short and clipped. Red Feather rushed to obey. Eli tightened the cinch on his own horse and mounted up before looking back to the riders.

They were approaching hard and fast. Only moments away now. And from the size of that cluster, there was a lot of them. Even as he watched, some of the riders broke away. They spread out, as though they knew they had their quarry cornered.

As though they had been tracking them for some time.

Eli looked around the environment again. Not a lot of options, not with them being up on a plateau like this. The drops from one outcrop to the one below were not too dizzying, but certainly too high for a horse. Their only other option was running – but to where?

With this many riders this close behind them, running would only delay the inevitable. If he was on his own, Eli would not hesitate. He knew how hard and for how long he could push his horse. But Red Feather was already weary. To push her that hard would be to kill her.

The cold weight of dread spread through his gut and he cocked his rifle. He never should have let himself fall asleep. If only he had stayed awake, he would have seen the riders long before they could get this close. They would have been able to slip away and keep a large enough distance to keep themselves safe.

But now? Now they were left with no options, all because of his foolishness.

The riders slowed as they got closer. They had fanned out wide enough to cut off all escape save for over the edge of the plateau. Red Feather trembled in her saddle, her rifle shaking in her hands. Eli swallowed down bile as he wondered which of them these men would kill first. Would he have to watch another daughter die before his eyes? Or would she have to watch another father bleed out at her feet?

Ten men surrounded them, halting a good twenty metres away. Eli's horse snorted and shifted beneath him, sensing the danger and longing to escape. Eli let the animal move without complaint, instead training his rifle on the central man.

A man he recognised, he realised with a start.

Trooper Cam McKewan.

Just you remember, in there you been one of us. But out here … you're one of them.

"Sergeant Whipp," McKewan called out. "Now this is a day I never thought would come."

"Why you followin' me?" Eli shot back. McKewan had the grace to look bashful.

"Ah, yeah. I'm sorry 'bout that. But orders are orders. I might not be in the army no more but it seems I can't quite shake the habit."

Eli let his harsh gaze drift from face to face, memorising them all and taking note of how tense they were. Four of the ten were focused on Red Feather and he carefully suppressed the instinctive reactions to protect her.

There was nothing he could do for her anymore. Against these numbers? Not even his skills could keep them alive in this fight.

"Takin' me in? Or bleedin' me here?" Eli asked.

"There's someone who wants to see you," McKewan replied and Eli felt a wash of relief that he was not about to die.

"I know. The lady who made those posters-"

"This ain't no lady," McKewan interrupted him. A cold fist closed around Eli's heart. "I doubt if you even know him. But he knows you. And he wants you brought to him. Alive. For now."

Eli kept his rifle aimed straight at McKewan.

"Why?"

"I ain't paid to know that. Just bring you in. Better me than anyone else. Given our history and all … it was the hope that you would come easy."

Eli glanced them all over again, considering his options even though he knew how limited they were. Beside him, Red Feather's breath hitched in her throat.

"No," she whispered and Eli's heart ached in his chest. He understood her fear. After what had happened to her parents … But what other choice was there? If Eli fought back, they would die.

"The girl?" he asked and McKewan shrugged.

"Got no orders for her. You want her with you, we'll bring her, too. S'long as she behaves."

Eli did not want that, not at all.

"You'll leave her be," he said firmly, flexing the sergeant tone that he had not used in months. "Send her on her way. And I'll come quiet."

"No!" Red Feather cried. McKewan scratched his chin and nodded.

"Sounds fair to me. Now put down that rifle."

"No! Eli!"

"Put down your rifle, Red Feather," Eli ordered in a low voice. She stared at him, horrified and betrayed. "We got no choice. Do it now."

Slowly, lower lip quivering violently, Red Feather obeyed. Eli lowered his own and slowly placed it back in the saddle holster. Next, he smoothly dismounted and motioned for Red Feather to stay where she was. Tears began to fill her eyes.

The men pressed in closer, several of them dismounting and coming towards Eli with rope. He stepped back, shaking his head and gesturing towards Red Feather.

"No. Let her go first."

The men glanced back to McKewan, who nodded then waved his hand at Red Feather in a dismissing motion.

"Get out of here, girl. Quickly. While you still can."

The tears spilled over and she shook her head rapidly. Eli's heart sank as she abruptly clambered off her horse and ran to him, sobbing. He grasped her shoulders as she threw her arms around him, holding him tight with all her might.

"No, no, please! Don't go!" Her words flowed on in her own language, too fast for Eli to catch any common phrases. Not that he needed to; her meaning was clear.

Eli hugged her firmly then began to pry her off. He had to do this, for her own sake.

Two of the men stepped in to assist. Red Feather screamed and flailed, kicking blindly to drive them off. She tightened her hold on Eli and his heart raced in his chest, eyes scouring the men for signs of violence. There was only so long they would tolerate this.

Red Feather shifted her left arm. Eli understood the movement a moment too late.

She tore away from him, wrenching his dagger from its back sheath as she went. Red Feather shouted a war cry as she turned on the men, slashing and stabbing with a vengeance. They cried out and leapt back but not before the dagger tasted blood. Eli lunged for – but found himself seized and dragged back.

"No! Red Feather, stop!"

She scored a wound across one man's arm, then slashed across another's hand. All the men were crowding in now, several holding Eli by the arms and shoulders as he fought to escape them – fought to protect his daughter.

One large man moved into the fray. He kicked out and Red Feather screamed, clutching her hand as the dagger flew from her grasp. She looked up with murder in her bloodshot eyes, and lunged.

"Stop!" Eli shouted and struggled harder. The last stitches in his shoulder burst open and blood slicked his clothes.

The large man deflected her with ease, knocking her to the ground. Red Feather leapt up, attacking wildly again. The man growled, then shoved her, hard.

Red Feather flew through the air. She crashed onto her back and skidded wildly across the hard stone. Eli yelled and strained to break free. Red Feather scrabbled at the ground but her eyes widened as –

The edge of the plateau disappeared beneath her. She fell, a high pitched scream ringing in her wake. Eli screamed back and thrashed madly.

A dull thud cut off Red Feather's cries. Eli strained harder and the hands on his body suddenly lost their grip. He surged up, fighting to run – but the hands crashed down on him again. Curses fell on his ears but he never heard them. Fists slammed into him and his knees were kicked in, driving him to the ground.

The large man walked to the edge of the plateau. He stared down to the shelf below, snorted in cruel amusement, and stepped back.

"Ain't gonna be no trouble from that one anymore," he sneered and a couple of other men laughed.

No! This couldn't be happening! Eli struggled again but there were ropes on his wrists now, binding them tight. He sucked in a deep breath and shouted her name, his voice echoing off the canyons.

Nothing.

McKewan walked to the edge and peered over. The large man shook his head.

"No point. That heathen belongs to the vultures now."

A groan escaped Eli and he sagged as all the fight went out of him. Dirt filled his mouth but he could not care. Hands dragged at him and he let them, too numb to struggle. He had failed. All these days and weeks thinking he could be a father again, that he could finally protect one child – all for nothing.

Eli found himself thrown over the back of a horse. Within moments, all the men had mounted up and were riding off, taking him with them. He caught sight of one man astride a familiar horse – Red Feather's horse. Pain stabbed through him and Eli wished they had just killed him. His own horse was nowhere to be seen but he did not care, not anymore.

Head falling against the warm body of the horse, Eli cursed himself and wished bitterly that he had fought till the end.

[in-a-lot-of-fandoms-i-lost-count]

About Me:

Name: Parker

Pronouns: they / them

Age: 25 years around the sun

Time Zone: West Coast (US)

Won’t Do: R.pe, d.ugs, in.est, swearing, anyone under 18.. sorry so be 20+, no Discord or anywhere else just on Tumblr sorry!

Will Do: Third POV, write maybe 3-5 sentences. (With swearing I’ll read and write it like ‘son of a b ch’ if needed but you can doesn’t bother me.), probably a thousand percent be down for lgbtq+ plots. Love au or canon or even something in middle of both.

Example: Dean was watching a movie about cowboys.. again. Hearing the doorbell he drank some beer before setting it by his remote. Running to the door he opened it and gasped at the blue eyed man with the pizza box. The guy’s name tag read Castiel and Dean looked back at the man taking the pizza boxes. “Thanks.” Dean said out loud but in his head he said ‘son of b ch he’s hot.’

I bolded who I prefer to be but we can figure out if you want to be them instead.

Supernatural: Dean and Castiel, Jody and Donna, Sam and Gabriel …

9–1–1: Buck and Eddie, Tyler Kennedy and Carlos, Hen and Karen, Judd and Grace, Josh and Ravi, Josh and Tommy …

Atypical: Izzie and Casey …

Stranger Things: Steve and Eddie, Nancy and Robin, Jonathan and Argyle …

School Spirits: Maddie and Rhonda, Charley and Wally …

Shadowhunters: Magnus and Alec, Clary and Izzy, Simon and Raphael …

Marvel/DC: Harley and Ivy, Erik and Charles, Steve and Bucky, Eddie (Venom) and Wade (Deadpool), Kate and Yelena …

Shameless: Ian and Mickey …

Good Omens: Arizaphale and Crowley …

The Last of US: Bill and Frank …

Our Flag Means Death: Stede and Eddie, Jim and Oluwande, Lucius and Black Pete …

A League of Their Own: Bertie and Gracie, Greta and Carson …

Red, White & Royal Blue: Alex Claremont Diaz and Henry Fox Mountchristen

Teen Wolf: Stiles and Derek …

House of the Dragon: Rhaenyra and Alicent

Umbrella Academy: Klaus and Dave …

Dead Boy Detectives: Edwin Payne and Charles Rowland …

Sooo yeah that’s all I can think of top of my head. Will add more to this list as I can think of them.

Thanks for reading and if this all sounds interesting message me. Be happy to start a journey of story telling. Also heads up sorry if I vanish sometimes. Promise I’m not ghost just you know life happens? I’ll get on promise but heads up life does get in the way too. Can’t always be fictional gotta be real world too (bleh I know but eh haha.)

[yzafre]

we're flying above the valley below | Ch 4

AO3

First | Previous

“The room is completely sealed off,” Axel sighed, “I can’t even open a corridor into it.”

“Aw, great – we found him, but now we can’t get to him?” Donald sighed.

“Axel,” Mickey said, “You said the Organization spent a lot of time there.  Do you know anyone who could figure it out?”

“Ah, well,” on the other side of the call, Axel scrunched his nose, scratching at the back of his head as he thought, “Maybe Vexen?  That is, Even. He was the main lead behind the card technology we used to interface with the Castle.”

“Then we’ll ask,” King Mickey said, turning to Aeleus, who was lingering near-by, “Even wasn’t doing well, right?  Do you think he’s recovered enough to answer some questions?”

“Dilan was looking after him.  The last thing he reported was that Even was still asleep.  Though, that was yesterday evening… I will go check.”

“In any case, there’s not much more I can do here.  And it looks like they took the Replicas, too,” Axel cut off, giving a low whistle.  Kairi turned back to the phone.  It looked like he’d moved while they were talking, having shifted from the bright-white of the rest of the castle to the dim light she remembered from Naminé’s workshop. “They really did a number on this place.”

“Are you coming back here?” she asked.

Axel hummed a wavering note – not a no, she thought, but not a yes, either.

“I’m going to see if I can track them down.  The trail might be too faded, at this point, but I – I have to try.”

The corners of his eyes did something funny, at that, the line of his mouth thinning, but then he shook his head, and he was back to normal.  Her heart ached for him.

“If I can’t find anything, I’ll check back in, see what you’ve got,” he finished.

“Alright,” King Mickey said, “We’ve been setting up a system here based on Chip and Dale’s old radar to try and track surges of Darkness, to keep an eye on the Organization’s movements.  We’ll let you know if we find anything we think will help.”

“Alright; see ya.”

“Bye, Axel.”

The screen went dark, and Sora turned to Kairi with wide eyes, “That’s so cool!  Can you talk to anyone with that?  Oh, could I talk to all my friends?  Like Herc, and Mulan – ooo, and maybe Beast?”

“Slow down, Sora,” Riku sighed, and Kairi giggled.

“You can only talk to other people who have one of these.  Actually, Ienzo did make some for you, so we could all keep in contact.  They’re with the clothes Yen Sid sent over.”

“Clothes?”

Sure enough, there were new outfits waiting for them, with fresh protective enchantments woven in.  Kairi already had hers – Riku teased him for not noticing – but after Sora and Riku had changed, she led them over to the science lab, where everyone else would be waiting.

The lab was buzzing with activity, machines humming and whirring.  Tucked into a corner was a hap-hazard, thrown-together looking machine, magic buzzing around it as Merlin and Queen Minnie scurried around it.  Donald and Goofy were standing with Mickey nearby, watching carefully.  Sora’s eye was caught by Leon, however, standing by a blue-haired guy and leaning over the console Tron was in.

“Leon!” Sora called, bouncing forward.

“Sora,” Leon smiled, “Good to see you.  Here to get some directions?”

“Uh – are we?” Sora asked, glancing over his shoulder at Kairi.

“You didn’t think to ask?” Riku teased, Kairi coming up beside him.

“Yes,” Kairi answered, peering around the room, “I thought you guys might be ready now, and it would be good to say goodbye.”

Leon tipped his head, “Aerith and Yuffie are down at the house, if that’s what you’re looking for.  But you’re right, we’re starting to get some readings.”

“Indeed,” Ienzo said, “Our computer set-up is already starting to detect surges of Darkness, and we think we’ve managed to locate two of the Princesses of Heart – not including our resident princess, of course.”

“Great!” Sora cheered, “But, uh – who are you?”

“Ah.  Right – we never actually met, did we?  I’m Ienzo.”

“Ienzo,” Sora repeated, “So, all this is looking for the Organization and the Princesses?”

“Indeed!” Merlin called, appearing suddenly by his side, “A most clever contraption.  Dear Minerva is helping me connect the magic here with Yen Sid and Disney Castle, to increase our range!”

“Oh, cool!  So, where are we – “

Behind them, the door burst open suddenly.

“Even is missing.”

Aeleus immediately had everyone’s attention, but Ienzo’s especially, who gave full body twitch, as if he wanted to run but didn’t know where.

“What do you mean, missing?” he asked.

“His room is ransacked – I found Dilan passed out on the floor, as well.”

“Oh, no – do you think it’s the Organization?” Mickey asked.

“Well, they do need more vessels,” Riku said, “It would make sense to get the guy who made them for you originally.”

Leon frowned, “But to invade our Castle, without setting off any of our alarms?  How could they manage that?”

“Who else would take him, though?” The King asked.  No one had an answer for that.

“But if he’s gone, how are we going to get to Ventus?” Sora asked.

The all went quiet, thinking deeply.  It was Ienzo who broke up.

“There is one option,” he said, and they all turned to him, “Vexen might be the foremost expert on the Card system, but that very system was created by studying Naminé.”

“But Naminé’s in me now,” Kairi said, “And there’s a limit to what she can do through me.”

“Perhaps; but it doesn’t have to stay that way.  We do, after all, have a vessel.”

After a brief hesitation, it was agreed that the replica Kairi had retrieved would go to Naminé.  As for Roxas, with Even gone they would have to figure something else out.  Sora felt bad for the relief he felt at not having to confront that particular tangle, yet.

Now, they had to decide where to go next.

“We’ve got coordinates for two of the Princesses,” Ienzo said, pointing at the screen.

Leon spoke next, “But we’ve also got the Darkness starting to move – and who knows where they’ll go first.”

“Then we’ll have to split up,” the King decided.

“Split up?” Sora asked in dismay, tangling his fingers with Kairi’s.  He already had to go somewhere different than Riku, after spending all that time trying to find him – he’d been looking forward to having at least one Flightmate by his side.

“Don’t worry, I won’t separate you from your Flight,” King Mickey assured, “She’s supposed to be learning from you, after all!  That just means Donald and Goofy will make up the other team.”

“A diplomatic team and a strike force,” Leon mused.

“But that’s – “ Sora cut off, stomach churning.  Go adventuring without Donald and Goofy?  They’d been with him since the beginning.  Sure, they hadn’t been there for the exam, but that was different, wasn’t it?  The only other time he’d been without them was that short stint at Hollow Bastion, and that was…

“Will Sora really be okay without us?” Donald asked.

“H-hey!”

“He’s a big boy now, it should be fine,” Goofy assured, hand on his Flightmate’s shoulder, “Still, I am a bit worried.”

“I said hey!  I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will,” Goofy said.

“But remember to call if you need us,” Donald added, “We’ve got phones now, too.”

“Oh,” Sora said, warmth growing in his heart, “Of course!”

“But, how are we going to travel?” Kairi asked, “There’s only one gummi ship, right?”

“Oh, right!” the King said, “C’mere, I’ve got a trick I want to show you.”

When Sora first saw the Keyblade transform into a vehicle, he stood staring, mouth open, for a full minute.

Traditionally, the King explained, Keyblade wielders would have armor to protect them for this type of travel, since they don’t have the cockpit of a gummi ship to shield them.

“But, it’s less Darkness than the Dark Corridors,” he finished, “So the enchantments Yen Sid and the fairies put in our clothes should be enough.”

It took a few tries, but soon all three managed to transform their Keyblade into a method of transportation.  After that, Riku and the King left, Donald and Goofy heading to the first Princess in the gummi ship soon after.

“I know we’re in a hurry, but before we head to our destination, do you think we could make a quick detour?” Kairi asked.

“Huh?” Sora asked, “I mean, sure, I guess.  Why?”

“Well, Naminé and I were thinking – the Organization may have gotten to Castle Oblivion before us, but she kept notes in other places, too.  And… there’s something she left behind that she wants to make sure to retrieve.”

“Alright.  Where to?”

“Twilight Town.”

The Twilight Town in Kairi’s memories was a respite, albeit an anxious one – a quiet place she could hide away, praying that Naminé’s gambit would work, untouched by the chaos of the other worlds.

Which is to say, she had not expected to be assaulted by a swirling cloud of shadows not five minutes after landing.

Fighting the heartless was different. It shouldn’t be harder – she really couldn’t say it was stronger than the people she was used to fighting – but up to this point she had been fighting primarily human opponents.  This strange mass was far wilder and more animalistic.  It made it more unpredictable.

It was strange – she could tell, passingly, that in this moment Sora’s magic was weaker than hers.  But she doubted anyone outside would notice, because where she faltered and hesitated, he moved with confidence, entirely sure what to do.

So, this is what they meant by gaining experience, she thought, and followed his lead.

When they finished off the heartless, rapid footsteps approached them, and Kairi turned, delight filling her as she spotted three familiar faces.

“Sora!  And – Kairi!” Pence called, stumbling to a stop in front of them.

“We were so worried – I’m so glad you’re okay,” Olette said.

Haynes nodded, “Yeah – after that creep ran off with you, Naminé disappeared.  We waited, but we never got any news!”

Kairi wheezed out an incredulous laugh as Hayner turned on Sora, “I mean, come on, the least you could’ve done is come back and let us know you found her!  Jeez.”

“Ahah, sorry,” Sora laughed, “Things got a little crazy after that.  There was Xemnas, and then the test, and…”

“And as for Axel – the guy that was after me?  He ended up helping us a lot.”

“What?  No way!”

Olette leaned in, all soft concern, “But Kairi, last time – you were really scared of him.”

Kairi smiled with a helpless shrug, “He apologized.  And, I guess…. Well, you could say we had a lot in common.”

“Really?  That guy?” Hayner said, nose wrinkled, “Well, if you say so.  But if he steps out of line, just let us know.  We’ll take care of him.”

“That’s sweet, but I don’t think you need to worry about it.”

“Yeah, Axel’s….”

Sora trailed off, and Kairi cast him a curious look, worry gnawing at her stomach when she saw the pensive frown creeping up on him.  She sent a wave of concern his way through their bond, and he startled, shaking it off quickly.

“Axel’s cool.  And besides, I can take care of her if anything happens.”

“Sure,” Olette agreed, casting a knowing look between the trio.

“Anyways, as much as I’d like this to just be a social visit, I somehow doubt it is.  Not with those monsters popping up again all of a sudden.  So, what’s up?”

“Well,” Sora said, “There is something, but that’s not really why we’re here.  It’s more, uh –“

Sora turned to her with a lost look in his eyes, and she smiled, stepping forward, “We’re here to pick something up for a friend.  She said she left it in an… abandoned mansion?”

The Twilight Town were eager to help them out, walking them out of town and to the old haunted house as they regaled them with everything they’d been up to since the last time they’d visited.  In no time at all, they reached their destination.

“Well, here we are.  Are you sure this is the place?”

“Yes,” Kairi said, feeling a foreign heaviness settling in her chest as she stared up at the worn building, “This is it.”

“Strange place to hide something,” Pence commented.

“She… didn’t have much choice.”

“Yeah?” Hayner said, “Well, I guess that weird computer was in there, too, so it’s not like she was the only one.”

They all stared up at the mansion, until the quiet was split by bells ringing in the distance.

“Ah, no, the time!” Pence said, “Guys, we gotta go!”

“What?”

“Sorry, but, we’ve got work.”

“Aw, but I wanted to hang out more,” Sora pouted.

“I mean, we’ll still have the chance!” Olette said, “It’s not like this’ll take long.  The Boss is just kinda a stickler about the punctuality.”

“Still…”

“Sora, why don’t you go with them?”

“Huh?” Sora turned to Kairi, surprised, “What do you mean?  Don’t we need to get whatever it is for Naminé?”

“Yes, but,” she trailed off, eyes turning towards the mansion thoughtfully, “I think this is something we need to do on our own.”

“… Are you sure?”

“Yeah.  Don’t worry, I’ll catch up soon.  So, you go catch up with them, okay?”

“Uh, yeah… if you say so.”

Kairi could feel the weight of Sora’s stare as they all left, but she couldn’t look away, Naminé’s presence stirring steadily the longer they were there.

When she stepped forward, it was like she was in a dream, her movements not entirely her own.  Across the lawn, through the broken foyer, up the stairs, into her room.

Into Naminé’s room.

It was so white, so empty.  The drawings scattered across the floor were the only color at all.  Naminé lived here for a year?  She couldn’t imagine.

There, Naminé whispered, and Kairi’s gaze turned of its own accord to find a birdcage in the corner, two dolls cradled inside.  She reached out with careful hands, pulling the little doll of Riku – no, Hitoshi – out, cupping it in her palms.  Naminé gave a sigh of relief in her chest, her presence pulling back enough for Kairi’s head to clear.

“This is what we came here for?”

Yes.  It has all of Hitoshi’s memories – his true memories.  I’ve been working to piece them together, like I did with Sora.  Once I had found all the pieces of his heart, I was going to place them inside his body, but…

“You ran out of time,” Kairi finished.  She ran a thumb over the doll’s head once before moving it to a pocket, turning to look at the other doll in the cage curiously.

“Who is this?”   

Short dark hair and blue button eyes – if she tilted her head and squinted, it almost looked like her.  In her mind, Naminé stilled, a pang of unease echoing out from her.  Kairi could feel her pressing in close, like a chin over her shoulder and a hand in hers.

I don’t know, Naminé answered as Kairi reached in, freeing the puppet, I don’t… remember.  But… there’s a memory.

“A memory?”

Yes. She went quite for a moment, contemplative, and Kairi hummed curiously.

Would you like to see?

“See?  The memory?”

Yes, Naminé answered, and Kairi felt her energy slide along her own, fingertips tapping at the well of magic inside, Let me show you – just follow my lead.

Kairi let Naminé’s power slide through her, fingertips running over the stitching, and –

She turned, trying to muster up a smile, “You said, if I could make a single memory that belonged just to me, that you could help me, right?”

Naminé nodded, “Did you find it?  What you need?”

“Yes,” She said, smiling softly, “I didn’t see it, not for a long time, but… it was obvious, wasn’t it?  Roxas, Axel – it’s them.  Even if I’m not real, those moments I shared with them – that’s real.  How could it not be?”

Naminé smiled, and she grinned back, wanting to tell someone – just once, just one person that she could say the words to out loud, someone on the outside who would know they were more than they were ever supposed to be.

“I love them,” she said, the warmth, that pressure, that connection inside her blooming, blooming, blooming, and how could she keep it in?  She laughed, light and airy, feeling it pop like a bubble, spreading out of her, pushing until a ripple burst from her back.  She staggered under a sudden weight, new limbs stretching out wide and fluttering, stirring up the papers all around them.

“What?” she breathed, twisting to look over her shoulder.  Two wings spread from her back, pale brown feathers ruffling slightly before settling down across the span.  Baffled, she turned back to Naminé and –

The other girl was staring at her.  Something like panic, or maybe fear, was painted across her rapidly paling face.

“Naminé?”

Expressions flickered through her eyes, rapid pace, before finally setting on something like determination, something like regret.

“A memory – one that belongs just to you,” Naminé whispered, “That’s the only way this will work.”

She tilted her head, watching her slow advance in confusion, “Yes.  That’s what you said, right?”

“Yes,” Naminé said, reaching out a hand, “and… I’m sorry.”

“What?”

There was a spike of pain, and –

Kairi slammed back into her body with a gasp, staggering over to lean on the table.

She stayed there for several long moments, breathing heavily as she let the foreign love-elation-fear bleed out of her, leaving her shaking.

“Naminé?” she asked the empty room, “What was that?”

A memory.  But… why is it here?

“Is that the girl the memory of you Riku found said she was trying to help?  The one none of us remember?”

It must be.  But why did I put it here?

“Well, if you knew we were going to forget, then... maybe you put it here because you knew you’d come looking.”

Maybe, but why take this one?  It’s distinct, but it’s not strong enough to…

“Naminé?”

I can’t remember, but this feeling… Kairi, I think I did something awful.

Before Hayner, Pence, and Olette ran off into town to complete their job, they showed him the posters they were hanging up, including how to work the data-codes on them.  Left to his own devices at the café, Sora played the games for a few rounds.  It was a decent distraction, but the longer he stayed here, the more he could feel a weight – or perhaps the absence of a weight – pressing down on him.

After a careless death broke his winning streak in the game, he slumped down on the table, burying his face in his arms.

This was Roxas’ home.  These were his friends, or a version of him, people he felt so strangely about, and…

Sighing, he sat up, pulling the photo of Roxas that Riku had once left from his pocket.  He… really needed to talk to Axel, didn’t he?  He should tell everyone, really, but Axel most of all deserved to know that Roxas was…

“Who’s that?”

Sora startled, twisting in his seat to find Hayner peering over his shoulder at the photo.

“Oh,” Sora said, adrenaline fading back into that muzzy, guilty sadness, “This is… Roxas.”

“Huh.  He seems… familiar somehow.”

“Well, we do have the same photo,” Olette said, sneaking up on his other side.

“Oh, you’re right!  Hey, Pence, you’ve got the picture on you right?”

The third of the group came over, pulling his wallet as he went, “Yeah, here.”

He placed the photo on the table beside Sora’s, and sure enough, they were the same, one just having an excess of blank space.

“Weird,” Pence said, leaning in to squint at the pair.

“It’s more than the photo, though,” Hayner insisted, “I could swear I’ve seen him before…”

Sora shifted uncomfortably, “Well, I think… he was friends with you, in that Other Twilight Town.  Maybe the memories are coming over?”

Hayner hummed skeptically as Pence squinted down at it.

“No – no, I think Hayner’s right,” he trailed off, then suddenly snapped, pointing energetically down at Roxas’s image, “Wait, isn’t that the guy that completely demolished Hayner at Grandstander?”

“Hey!” Hayner protested, “He didn’t beat me that bad.”

“No, Pence is right,” Olette said, “It’s definitely the same guy.  Also, he did absolutely obliterate you.”

“Come to think of it, I think I saw him a couple more times,” Pence continued over Hayner’s complaining, “With that tall red-head, right, he was – oh!  That was the same guy that kidnapped Kairi!”

“And you didn’t think to bring this up?” Hayner sputtered.

“I mean, I only saw the guy twice!”

The three descended into bickering, and Sora picked the photo back up, heart squeezing as he stared down at Roxas’ face. 

He hadn’t… expected this, somehow.  He knew Roxas had ties to Axel, and that other girl in his heart, and the Organization.  He knew he’d had some kind of life with these three in that fake Twilight Town, too, but this was the real world.

“So, what happened to him, then?” Hayner said, and Sora blinked back to awareness, realizing they were all staring at him.

“I…” Sora swallowed heavily around the lump of grief and guilt in his chest, “I don’t know.  The last time I saw him… he was protecting me.  But we got separated, and now… I don’t know what happened to him.”

“Well, why don’t we go ask around?”

“What?” Sora asked.

“If I got lost, the first place I’d try to go is home, right?  And we know he used to hang around here, in both the real and the fake version.  So, if he made it out of wherever you guys were, I bet this would be the first place he’d go.  Maybe someone’s seen him.”

“That’s… yeah, alright.  Let’s go look.”

They didn’t get anywhere, mostly, until they stopped at a small ice-cream stall, and the lady perked up, hand pressed to her mouth as she reached out, almost touching the photo before she pulled back.

“Oh, that’s - !  Of course, I know him, he was one of my best customers.  It’s such a shame….”

The four of them exchanged glances before turning back to her.

“What do you mean?”

“You… you haven’t heard?”

“Heard?”

“Oh.  Oh, dear.  That friend of his stopped by a while back – the tall red-head, you know – and told me he’d… well, that he’d passed.”

Axel, Sora realized.  It was like someone shoved a rock in his chest, stuck between his lungs and his heart, pressing painfully with every breath.  The Twilight Town gang exchanged unsure glances, and the shop lady sighed sadly.

“I’m so sorry, dears.  It’s such a shame – he was such a sweet boy.  I… here.  Have some ice cream on me, yes?  Why don’t you all go take a moment.”

Heads ducked, the four of them took the offered ice cream and shuffled to an out of the way corner, each unwrapping their own treat, nibbling on them silently.  The moment Sora took a bite, something tightened around his heart.  His eyes burned.

“A red-head, again,” Pence mused, finally breaking the silence, “That guy that was after Kairi?”

“Axel,” Sora said, “Yeah.  He... he’s Roxas’ Flightmate.”

“Wait, what?” Hayner said, “No way – and I thought Roxas was a cool guy.  Why’s he hanging out with a creep like that?”

“And why was he saying Roxas was dead?” Olette asked, “Sora, you said you saw Roxas recently, right?  Then, shouldn’t he know…”

“Ah – it’s… complicated.  I’m not really sure how to explain it, but we kinda thought Roxas was gone, for a while there.  And then…”

And then, before we could find a way to get him back, he sacrificed himself to save me.

Unsure what to say, he shoved the ice cream in his mouth, ignoring the hesitant looks Hayner, Pence, and Olette cast each other.

“Why don’t we head back to the café?” Olette said, “We’ve been running around for a while, Kairi’s probably done by now.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, let’s go.”

They found Kairi sitting alone at one of the café tables, staring down at her folded hands with a wrinkle in her brow.  Sora reached for her as they approached, finding the weight in his heart echoed in her own, but as their eyes met, hearts entwining, he could breathe again.

“Hey,” he greeted, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah.  What about you?  Did you have fun catching up?”

“I…” he trailed off, sorrow-guilt panging through him, and she reached out, folding his hand in her own.

“Sora?”

“No.  It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.  I – “

Music cut through the air, bright and cheery.  After a moment of shuffling, they tracked it to the phone in Kairi’s pocket.  With a click of a button, Axel’s face filled the screen, looking even more tired than they’d last seen him.

“Hey, Kairi – oh, and Sora.”

“Axel,” Kairi said, “Are you okay?  You look a little…”

“Yeah, yeah – I’m fine.  Just thought I’d update you on the whole Replica situation.”

“Did you find them?”

“Ah, yeah.  Well, for a little bit.  Got eyes on them before… well, before Saïx got involved,” he said, gesturing to his face, “Thing was – I managed to get a glimpse of its face and… it wasn’t the Riku replica.  Hitoshi.  It wasn’t him.”

“Axel?” Kairi asked, a wave of concern-dread-oh no coming off her, and Sora cast a glance between her and the phone screen, wondering what she was seeing.

“Anyways.  They vanished, but, uh.  I’m going to keep on their trail, yeah?  See if I can’t find a way to steal her away.”

“Her,” Kairi repeated, voice heavy, but Axel just shrugged, somehow managing to avoid her gaze even through the phone, and she sighed, “Okay.  Be safe.”

“Hah.  Who do you think you’re talking to?  I’ll be fine.  See ya!”

The screen went dark, but Kairi stared at it pensively for a long moment before tucking it away, turning up to him with a smile he could feel the fakeness of.

“Well.  Where to, next?”

Next

[magicalshipment]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Disney Parks - 2023 Mickey Mouse Holiday Ear Headband for Adults.

[julierichmond]

Ch ch ch changes

Recently, the face of my Apple watch switched, from rotating photos taken over the years to a black, white, and red, cartoon of Mickey Mouse. At random times, Mickey will crow the time in a squeaky, strange, Mickey Mouse voice. This doesn’t happen often; so far he hasn’t interrupted a zoom call at work, or my sleep, but it’s something I need to fix. Sophia, the Most Lovely and Graceful Dog is…

[music-is-love-90]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Original Female Character(s), The Doctor/Rose Tyler | Bad Wolf, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Martha Jones/Mickey Smith Characters: The Doctor (Doctor Who), Rose Tyler, Ninth Doctor (Doctor Who), Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who), Eleventh Doctor, Original Female Character(s), Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Martha Jones, Donna Noble, Amy Pond (Doctor Who), Rory Williams, River Song Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, This is a rewrite of an old story, condensed into one story instead of like 5 Summary:

The tale of the Doctor and the Phoenix, last survivors of Gallifrey.

Previously published on Fanfiction.net as Never Gonna Be Alone, Savin' Me, Someday, I'd Come For You, and If Today Was Your Last Day. Edited and reworked.

Ch. 2:

Everything was set.

The flowers were perfect, the band was ready, everyone was dressed in their very best, she looked fantastic, and, best of all, at the end of the aisle waited the most perfect man in the world, ready to marry her, Donna Noble. 

Life was just about as perfect as it could get.

The organ began its famous call and Donna gave her father a nervous smile as the butterflies in her stomach doubled, tripled.  She began her march down the aisle towards her perfect future and they grew even more.  Kind of painfully.  Really painful.  Donna came to a stop as the pain grew ten times, a hundred times more painful.  The only thing she could do was scream as the world went black.

The next thing she knew, she was in an odd, dome shaped room.  She heard something behind her and spun on her heel to find a very skinny man in a pinstriped suit, next to the oddest contraption she had ever seen.

“Who are you?” she demanded.  He started sputtering, but she cut him off.  “Where am I?”

“What?”

“What the hell is this place?” Her voice started to rise. 

“What?”

She was fairly certain the man was an idiot, given how he was just staring at her.

“You can’t do that, I wasn’t even – But we’re in flight!” he exclaimed, tripping over his words.  “That is – that is physically impossible.  How did you – “

“Tell me where I am!” she demanded, cutting him off again.  “I demanded you tell me right now: where am I?”

“You’re inside the TARDIS,” he told her, looking more and more confused.

“The what?”

“The TARDIS.” He began moving around the console, taking readings.

“The what?”

“It’s called the TARDIS.”

“That’s not even a proper word!” she spat.  “You’re just saying things!”

“How did you get in here?” he demanded.

“Well, obviously when you kidnapped me!  Who was it that put you up to this, huh?  Was it Nyeris?  Is this her?  She finally getting me back?”

“Who the hell is Nyeris?” he demanded, completely mystified.

“Your best friend,” she replied, sneering at him.

He looked her up and down.

“Hold on, wait a minute.  Why are you dressed like that?”

“I’m going ten pin bowling,” she said snarkily, motioning to her white gown and veil.  “What do you think, dumbo?!  I’m getting married!  I was half-way up the aisle!  I’m gonna have the police on you!  Me and my husband, as soon as he is my husband, are going to sue the pants off you!”

As she was ranting, she spotted doors to the side of the room and took off, ignoring his shout to wait.  She flung them open, only to be brought short by the sight of a nebula in deep space. 

The Doctor calmly walked up behind her, silently asking the TARDIS if she would get Lily to the control room somehow.

“You’re in space,” he told the other woman calmly.  “Outer space.   This is my…spaceship.  It’s called the TARDIS.”

“How am I breathing?” she asked.

“The TARDIS is protecting us.”

“Who are you?” she asked finally.

“I’m the Doctor,” he replied simply.

“Donna.”

“Human?” he asked, looking at her.

“Yeah.  Is that optional?”

“Well, it is for me.” He turned back to the open doors.

“You’re an alien.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway.

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence, observing the turn of the universe.

“It’s freezing with these doors open,” Donna said finally, rubbing her arms.

The Doctor gave her a look and quickly closed them before running back to the console.

“I don’t understand this,” he said, quickly moving around the console, “and I understand everything.  This, this can’t be happening.  There is no way a human being can lock itself on and beam itself into the TARDIS.”  He grabbed an ophthalmoscope and started looking at her.  “Impossible.  Some sort of subatomic connection?  Something in the temporal field?  Maybe something pulling you into alignment with the Chronon shell.  Maybe something macro mining your DNA within the interior matrix.  Maybe a genetic – “

Donna slapped him.

“What was that for?” he demanded, recoiling in shock.

“GET ME TO THE CHURCH!”

“Right!” he yelled back, dropping the device and moving back the console.  “Fine!  I don’t want you here anyway.  Where is this church?”

“Saint Mary’s, Paytor Road, Cheswick, London, England, Earth, The Solar System!”

Donna spotted a woman’s jacket hanging over one of the corrals and grabbed it, brandishing it at him.

“I knew it!” she sneered.  “Acting all innocent.  I’m not the first!  How many women have you abducted?”

It took a moment for the Doctor to figure out what she was waving in his face, but his eyes grew cold when he realized it was Rose’s jacket.  It had been an unspoken agreement between him and Lily.  She didn’t mention the jacket that still lay where Rose had thrown it that last day and he didn’t mention the leather jacket that had gone missing from the wardrobe. 

After all, they were both grieving in their own way.

“That’s my friend’s.” he told the newcomer, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

“Well, where is she?” Donna demanded mockingly.  “Popped out for a spacewalk?”

“She’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

The Doctor tried to look away from the jacket, but he couldn’t seem to make himself actually do it.

“I lost her.”

Donna opened her mouth to respond, but they were both distracted by the sound of breaking china.  The Doctor turned to see Lily in the doorway, growing paler by the second as she stared at the other woman.

“Donna?”

The three of them stared at each other. 

“What?” the Doctor demanded, looking between them.

~.~

Ten minutes earlier

Lily had wandered away from the music room in search of a cup of coffee.  She was fairly certain the Doctor had snuck back to Earth while she was sleeping one night to get her some, given he only drank tea.  He never mentioned it, it just appeared one morning, and she couldn’t help but think it was very sweet of him.  She was almost done when she felt the TARDIS nudge her.  She was used to her TARDIS in her Universe doing the same thing when the Doctor needed her, so she sighed.

“So, what did he do this time?” she asked the ship, leaning against the counter as she stirred her coffee.  “Cross two wires and set himself on fire again?”

The time ship nudged harder and Lily sighed again.

“Alright, I’m coming.” she said, heading out the door.  “But he better be dying.”

She made her way towards the control room, noting that the TARDIS had rearranged to make it a straight shot.

“Must actually be serious,” she muttered.

She entered the room and froze, the cup slipping from her hand.  What she was seeing couldn’t be true.

“Donna?” she whispered.

She vaguely heard the Doctor say something before she felt her legs give out, but she never felt herself hit the ground as the memories overtook her.  Flashes of one of the worst days of her life, flowing through her mind, unrelenting.  She couldn’t make it stop, even as she felt her power slipping through her grasp.

She was losing control.

~.~

Now the Doctor was even more confused.  Lily had been slowly telling him of her life before she joined him, and Donna Noble had featured heavily in many of those stories.  Lily Carter’s best friend, a firebrand and braver than anyone she knew.  He knew she had died and that it had been awful for Lily, but he didn’t know much beyond that.  But it wasn’t the fact that she was alive in this universe that confused him.  No, it was trying to reconcile the kind, funny, empathetic woman Lily had told him about with the woman who had just slapped him!

None of that mattered, though, when he saw Lily fall.  He managed to get to her fast enough to keep her from hitting her head and he saw that, while her eyes were open, she was not seeing him.

“Lily?” he called, shaking her slightly, but she didn’t respond.

“See, I was right!” Donna crowed.  “Where did you pick her up?  Disney World?  Probably doing all sorts of freaky alien things to her!  She definitely looks like she’s on – “

“Donna shut up!” the Doctor yelled, surprising the woman into silence.  Content that she would stay quiet, the Doctor turned his attention back to the woman in his arms.  “Lily, can you hear me?”

There was no response.  She didn’t seem aware of anything that was happening around her, too deep in her own mind to notice him.  What was even more troubling was the gold flooding her eyes. 

He knew she had power, that the Vortex still lived inside her, and it looked like she was losing control.  Who knew what a release of that kind of power would do to the TARDIS, much less him and Donna?  There was no other option.

The Doctor laid Lily on the grating, taking her face between his hands as he entered her mind.

Every where he looked, there was chaos.  Lily’s memories were a jumbled mess, trapping her inside her mind.  As he moved through them, it became easier to distinguish what was from before she had met his counterpart and what came after.  He saw familiar places and familiar faces that he tried to not look too hard at, trying to find the path to the memory that she was trapped inside.  As he moved deeper, he saw more and more death as her memories turned darker and darker, giving him an idea of exactly why his counterpart had been willing to risk everything to send her to him.

No one should have had to endure this much darkness, much less someone as bright and kind as Lily Carter.

Finally, he located the memory Lily couldn’t escape and he entered it.

The room was clearly of Dalek design, sparce and unfeeling, and in the center was a table with a young woman strapped to it.  Her red hair was matted, and she had clearly been tortured, as blood still flowed from many of her wounds.  Some of the wounds seem half healed, while others were very fresh.

She had obviously been here for a while.

The door opened and Lily ran in.  She took a moment to assess her situation before running to the table and starting to undo the straps.

“Lily.”

The younger woman paused what she was doing at the whisper, grabbing her friend’s hand and holding it tightly.

“Hey, girlie,” she said gently.  “How you doing?”

Donna chuckled weakly and blood dribbled from the side of her mouth.

“I…I’ve been better.”

Lily laughed softly.

“Well, don’t you worry.  We’re gonna get you out of here and get you back to the Doctor.  He’s gonna fix you up, good as new.”

The forced cheerfulness sounded so brittle in the air.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Donna protested.  “The baby – “

“Would never forgive me if I didn’t come after their Aunt Donna,” Lily interrupted.  “So, stop distracting me so I can save your sorry ass.”

She squeezed her friend’s hand and let go, returning to the straps. Finally, they were done, and Lily wrapped her arm around Donna’s waist to help her up.  They only made it about halfway to the door before Donna collapsed to her knees, vomiting blood all over the floor.  Lily tried to get her up, but they just slipped in the blood.  Lily pulled her into her arms as more of her wounds reopened and the blood surrounding them grew even more.

“Lily…”

“Shh.  You’re gonna be fine,” Lily comforted her, stroking her hair.  “You’ll see.  Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Lily, I’m sorry.”

Lily started to cry as Donna weakly took her hand and pulled it up to her chest.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she told her friend fiercely.

“I didn’t tell them anything,” Donna whispered.  “I kept you safe.  I kept the baby safe.”

“I know you did.” Lily was sobbing now.  “I never doubted it for a moment.”

“Don’t…don’t blame yourself,” Donna said, growing weaker by the moment.  “I wouldn’t…have traded it for the world.  Tell…the Doctor…tell him…he better keep you two safe…”

“I will,” Lily assured her.  “And I will make sure my little girl knows she had the best aunt in the universe.”

Donna smiled softly.

“You’re…you’re my best friend, Lils,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.  “Love…yo…”

And she was gone.

Lily stared at her, her face slack in shock.  She pulled Donna’s body to her, rocking her slowly as the body slowly began to cool.  A little while after that, the air began to change.  Where there had been stillness, electricity now crackled.

And Lily’s eyes turned pure gold.

The scene faded for a moment before resetting and the Doctor realized Lily was stuck in a loop, reliving the death of her best friend.  A woman who now stood in their ship with no idea of who Lily was.

He pulled back slightly and saw that Lily’s eyes in the real world will also gold.

She was losing control, reacting to the memory of one of the worst days of her life.  He could tell she was fighting, trying to push the memory back, but she couldn’t do that and keep control of her power.  So, he dove back in, fighting through her trauma to help her lock the memory away.  It wasn’t perfect, and she would need to deal with it eventually, but it was the best option for the moment.  As his mind joined with hers, he felt something he hadn’t felt in centuries: the comfort of another mind.  He had been so alone for so long that he couldn’t help but bask in the comfort of someone else to reach out to, settling into the hole the Time Lords had left.

He helped her push the memory back and reluctantly pulled away to find her eyes finally seeing him.

Thank you.

He could have wept at the sound of another voice in his head.

I know I should have asked, he told her sheepishly, but there didn’t seem to be any time.

He felt her smile more than he saw it.

I prefer to be alive, rather than all of us dead, so it’s probably best you didn’t wait for permission.

Still.

He started to pull away, but she grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her.

For the future, you have permission to enter my mind any time you think it necessary, she told him.  I trust you.

He felt a feeling rush through him that he hadn’t felt in so long.

Belonging.

She might be in a human body, but Lily Carter was a Time Lord at heart, which meant he wasn’t alone anymore.

He smiled softly and nodded.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”

Lily stifled a sob and the Doctor pulled her into his arms, ignoring the other woman completely.

“Will you be alright?” he asked softly, and Lily hesitated for a moment before nodding.  “She isn’t your Donna,” he warned.

“I know,” she whispered.  “I’ll manage.”

He nodded, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to help her up.  When she was on her feet, he squeezed her hand before letting go and heading to the console.

“Did he kidnap you too?” Donna demanded, walking towards Lily.

The other woman swallowed thickly, looking anywhere other than the red head.

“No,” she told her softly, resisting the urge to either run away or throw her arms around the other woman.  “He’s…protecting me.  He’s my friend.” She glanced at him and saw him smile warmly, giving her strength.  “I had something happen to me and he gave me a soft place to land.  He’s one of the good guys.”

“Well, I don’t need protection,” Donna said with a sniff.  “Get me to the church!”

“Right,” the Doctor said grumpily.  “Chiswick.”

He threw the TARDIS into flight and Lily grabbed the railing, hanging on for dear life.

“Doctor, I take it back!” she yelled.  “I’m pretty sure you’re trying to kill me!”

“It’s not me!” he yelled back.

“You always say that!” she shouted without thinking and winced.  “I imagine, I mean.  I think she’s starting to take offense!”

“What do you want from me?!”

“I want to make it to London without throwing up!”

“Well, talk to her!”

“She’s your ship!” Lily shot back.  “You talk to her!”

“WILL YOU TWO STOP TALKING LIKE THE SHIP’S ALIVE!” Donna screamed at them from where she was holding on for dear life.

They both turned to stare at her.

“But – but she is!” the Doctor sputtered, looking a bit like a child who had just been told that Santa wasn’t real.

“It’s a ship.” She told him slowly, as if speaking to a simpleton.

“Yes, but she’s grown, not made.” The Doctor explained excitedly.  “TARDISs are sentient.”

The TARDIS chose that moment to touch down, throwing them all to the ground.  Faster than anyone could have thought possible in a floor length gown, Donna was up and through the doors.  As she looked around, she realized they were nowhere near a church. 

The Doctor and Lily followed her out and she rounded on them.

“I said St. Mary’s!” she shouted at them.  “What sort of Martian are you?”

The Doctor had already turned his attention away from her and towards the TARDIS.

“It’s like something’s wrong with her,” he said to no one in particular as he stroked the side of the shell.  “It’s almost like she’s…RECALIBRATING!”  He ran back inside and straight to the console.  “She’s digesting!”

Lily knew he was talking to her, but she was more interested in watching Donna’s reaction to the outside of the TARDIS.  It was almost physically painful to watch this woman have the same reaction as dead woman she had loved more than almost anyone while having her face and not being her.  Lily was caught between wanting to rage at her for the sin of not being her Donna, while wanting to gather her in her arms and never let go.

“Who’s this man you’re marrying?” the Doctor called as Donna took off down the alley.  “Are you sure he’s human?  Hasn’t got a zipper on his forehead, does he?”  He poked his head out and saw only Lily.  “Where is she?”

She just pointed at Donna’s retreating figure.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lily met his eyes and he saw the pure grief there and he nodded.

“Come on,” he said, exiting the TARDIS and holding out his hand.  “We can’t let her get too far before we figure out what’s going on.”

Lily nodded and took his hand, letting him pull her after Donna.

“Donna…” he called as they caught up.

“Leave me alone!  I just want to get married!”

“Donna, just come back to the TARDIS,” he insisted.

“No way,” she said, shaking her head.  “That box is too weird.”

Lily smiled at that and the Doctor squeezed her hand.

“It’s bigger on the inside, that’s all,” he told the other woman, as if this explained everything.

“Oh!” she rounded on him, staring at him.  “That’s all?”  She glanced at her watch and groaned.  “Ten past three!  I’m gonna miss it!”

“Can’t you phone them?” Lily asked.  “Tell them where you are?”

“How do I do that?” Donna sneered at her, motioning to her dress.

“Oh, right.” Lily agreed sheepishly.  “Mobile phone’s probably not a big consideration with a wedding dress.”

“Why not?” the Doctor asked, confused.

“I don’t have pockets!” Donna screeched at him.  “Have you ever seen a bride with pockets?  You know what the one thing I forgot at my fitting at Chez Allison?  You know what I forgot to say?  I forgot to say GIVE ME POCKETS!”

“This man you’re marrying, what’s his name?” the Doctor asked.

Donna’s whole personality changed.

“Lance,” she told him dreamily.

“Good luck, Lance.”

Lily elbowed him in the side.

“Oi! No stupid Martian is going to stop me from getting married,” she yelled at him, walking away again.  “The hell with you!”

��I’m – I’m not from Mars,” he called after her.

“Well,” Lily said, linking her arm with the Doctor’s, “she may not be my Donna, but I can tell you that you might as well give up now.  She’s never going to care.”

The Doctor just shook his head, leading her down the road after the other woman.

They caught up with Donna as she tried to hail a cab and had no luck.  Lily stood back and watched as the Doctor tried to help and had no better luck.

“Why aren’t they stopping?” he demanded, confused.

“They think I’m in fancy dress,” Donna replied, annoyed.  Another driver drove by, yelling for her to lay off the sauce.  “They think I’m drunk!” And yet another told her she wasn’t fooling anyone.  “They think I’m in drag!”

For a moment, Lily thought Donna might give chase to that one.

“Both of you, stop,” she ordered, stepping out to the curb. 

She put her fingers to her lips and let out an ear-piercing whistle.  A moment later, three cabs had stopped.

“Et voila,” she said as they approached the nearest.  “Perks of growing up in New York.”

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” the Doctor groused as they got in.

“I was enjoying watching you try.” She shot back with a cheeky grin.

He shook his head, a slight smile passing over his face.  Donna was giving the driver the directions when he informed them that it would be double, due to it being Christmas and all.

“Oh my god.  Have you got any money?”

“Um, no.  Haven’t you?”

“Pockets, Doctor,” Lily said, rubbing her temples.

They quickly found themselves back on the street.  The Doctor got Donna situated with a nearby payphone before taking Lily’s hand and leading her over to stand in line for a cash point.  Lily smiled as the Doctor shifted his weight, clearly impatient.

“Would you like me to distract him?” she asked with a smirk.

The Doctor took in her loose sweatshirt and jeans with an arched eyebrow and she smacked his arm playfully.

“Rude.”

The Doctor’s expression fell, and he swallowed, turning away from her.  A moment later, he felt her hand slip into his, squeezing it tightly.  He squeezed back, taking comfort from the fact that he wasn’t alone.

Finally, the man left, and Lily angled her body to block The Doctor as he used the sonic screwdriver to get some cash out of the machine.

“You know, stealing is a crime.” She teased as they walked away.

“What are you going to do, turn me in?” he shot back, swinging her arm.  “Oh, officer!  My Time Lord friend here just stole money from the cash machine using his amazing sonic screwdriver.  Yeah, that’s going to work.”

Lily wrinkled at his attempt at mimicking her accent.

“I do not sound like that.”  The Doctor just smirked at her.  “I do not!”

They arrived back at the road to see Donna getting in a taxi.

“Thanks for nothing!” she shouted, slamming the door shut.

Lily sighed, shaking her head, but the Doctor was distracted by a band of Santas playing nearby.  He looked back at Donna and Lily caught his look.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The band…”

The taxi carrying Donna drove past them and they saw one of the Santas driving.

“DONNA!”

He grabbed her hand and started pulling her back.

“What’s happening?”

“I’ve seen those Santas before,” he told her, looking for an escape.  “Last Christmas, when I regenerated.”

“I think I remember that story,” she said, backing away.  “Pilot fist to the Sicorax’s shark, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Just to confirm, this isn’t the same Christmas, right?”

“Just how bad a driver was your Doctor?”

Lily just smirked as the band started to head their way.  The Doctor quickly began looking for an escape route and spotted the cash machine they had just used.  He pointed his screwdriver at it and cash spewed out of it, driving the crowd into a frenzy, and allowing them to slip away in the confusion.

They ran back to the TARDIS and the Doctor quickly put them into flight.

“So, why do they want Donna?” Lily asked, holding on for dear life.

“No idea,” the Doctor replied, flipping a switch.  “This didn’t happen in your universe?”

Lily shook her head.

“We met her when her temp job was attacked by Cybermen.”

Spark flew as the TARDIS tried to shake herself apart.

“Behave!” the Doctor shouted, hitting the console.

“She doesn’t seem to like it when you do that!” Lily called.

“Yes, well, she can complain later.  Right now, she can do as I say!”

They flew down the motorway, tracking Donna and only hitting a few cars as they went.  The Doctor motioned for Lily to take over and she quickly took his place at the console.

“When I say, pull the lever!”

She nodded and he ran to the doors, flinging them open to find them next to the cap carrying Donna.

“Open the door!” he screamed at her.

“Do what?” she screamed back.

“Open the DOOR!”

Donna tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t!  It’s locked!”

The Doctor pointed the sonic screwdriver and the window opened.

“Santa’s a robot,” she told him dryly.

“Donna, opened the door!” The Doctor ordered.

“What for?”

“You’re going to have to jump!”

“I’m not jumping, I’m supposed to be getting married!”

The RoboSanta sped up at that moment, leaving the TARDIS behind.

“Now!” the Doctor shouted.

Lily pulled the lever and they pulled level with the car again.  The Doctor stumbled at the TARDIS jerked forward but he managed to use the sonic screwdriver to disable RoboSanta.

“You’ve got to jump!” he told the red head.

“I’m not jumping on a motor way!”

The Doctor sighed.

“Look, whatever that thing is, it needs you.  And whatever it needs you for, it’s not good.  Now, come on!”

“I’m in my wedding dress!”

“Yes, you look lovely.  Come on!”

Donna opened the door with a groan.  Looking down at the road flying by beneath them and back up to the Doctor, she shook her head.

“I can’t do it!”

The Doctor went still.

“Trust me,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear.

“Is that what you said to her?” she demanded.  “Your friend, the one you lost.  Did she trust you?”

“Yes, she did,” the Doctor replied, his face hard.  “And she is not dead, she is so alive, now, JUMP!”

Donna hesitated for a moment longer and then threw herself out of the car.  She landed in the TARDIS on top of the Doctor as the doors slammed shut.

“Time to go!” Lily called, pressing the necessary buttons to take them away from there.

[cometforever]

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[pace02termansen]

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[clashingqueens]

voyeur | mickey & nico

nicoletta:

The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges that spilled into Nico's flat and gave everything a rosy hue. She was leaned against her modest balcony, watching wispy clouds blow away as the sun sank behind the Tuscan hillside, when she became aware that she was no longer alone. She took a sip from her wine glass, casually using the glittering crystal to reflect an image of the intruder, assessing the threat. Surprising Nico was difficult, but she supposed if anyone could do it, it was certainly Mickey White. The American assassin and her brother were a fantastically consistent thorn in Nico's side, always meddling in things they should really leave to the actual professionals and somehow walking away virtually unscathed. Nico's free hand flitted to her side, thumbing through the fabric of her silk shirt to find a scar she had gained from a bullet graze in Paris. She couldn't help the small smile that came to her face at the memory, quickly following it up with a scowl and a soft tut as she tried to reign herself in. If Mickey was here, surely her brother was nearby and that always spelled trouble. However, if he wasn't around... well, then perhaps the blonde pain in her ass was here for an entirely different kind of scuffle this time. 

 Nico couldn't read Mickey as well as she would like and that quickly gave way to something akin to an obsession with the younger woman. Following her tracks, newspaper clippings and internet headlines, trying to piece together the puzzle in a way that she could chew on and digest and sat well with her. No matter how hard she tried though, Nico always found that Mickey kept her slightly off kilter. Maybe she liked that, maybe she didn't. She would never admit it either way. Pulled out of her musings by the very real possibility that she was about to have her life threatened, Nico let her fingers trail along the handrail of the balcony until they found what they were looking for.

In one swift movement, Nico slid a carefully hidden knife from its place in the handrail and turned around, flinging the contents of her drink in an arc towards where Mickey was standing. She held onto the crystal glass because it could prove a useful weapon if she needed it, and also just because she liked it and didn't want to see it broken... or at least broken for no good reason. Ducking down from what she assumed would be a counterattack, her knife split the air with precision and hit something that she hoped was body and not the new couch she had just flown in from Munich. Lifting herself partway back up to attempt to assess the damage, she greeted lightly, "Disgraziato. What brings you here to ruin a perfectly good Tuscan sunset, hm?"

Mickey supposed it was only understandable that Nico had reacted poorly to her presence considering the issue of breaking and entering. There also might have been the fact that Mickey had repeatedly tried to shoot Nico time and time before but to be fair, Nico had more than tried to return the favor. She still had neat little scar on her shoulder where the Italian had plunged a jagged piece of glass into her skin. Mickey only took this as a sign that Nico was sweet on her. Especially since Simon had twice as many scars from Nico than she did - something he was increasingly irritated about. However, after their last encounter, Mickey had been content to give Nico some space and focus on her career. She and Simon had continued killing their way through Europe, their last mission landing them in Saint Petersburg. 

That’s when everything went wrong. It should have been a simple mission - an in and out set up by someone they trusted. Instead, Mickey and her twin had been forced to engage in a firefight with half the politsiya. But, that hadn’t been enough. Someone had not wanted to waste any chances on terminating the twins. Simon had seen the red laser scope of a sniper rifle trained on the back of Mickey’s head, his quick reflexes knocking her to the ground as the bullet meant for her slammed into his shoulder. As she met her twin’s eyes in that moment, Simon nodded at her and she had understood what he meant. She needed to get out so she could come back for him. If they were both captured, they’d be forever separated and that wasn’t something Mickey could live with.Throwing herself out of the window had been a chance but it wasn’t the riskiest thing she had done. An old rival had called them cockroaches once before Simon had cut his throat - impossibly annoying and impossible to kill. Mickey had escaped - seething and heartbroken - but she had escaped nonetheless and now she knew someone had betrayed them. Her informant had gone underground after his lie but that’s why she had travelled to Italy.

Luckily for Mickey, her reflexes matched her brother’s, having been honed deep within the dark Appalachian mountains. She pivoted to avoid the arc of wine, hand shooting out to snatch up one of the expensive pillows on a nearby couch. She brought the pillow up in time to feel Nico’s knife thud into the fabric and stuffing. The impact forced her to take a step back but she shook it off. “Business, as opposed to pleasure. I hope this wasn’t a new pillow.” She gazed at the brunette, tossing the pillow to the side. “You see, Nicoletta, I found myself in a spot of trouble in Russia, recently and I’m just visiting all of my old friends. You know, catching up, grabbing a drink, seeing if they ratted my brother and I’s location to local authorities.” Her smile was wolfish, grey eyes smoking like a gun even if she kept her shoulders relaxed. “Now I know you wouldn’t do such a thing but you’ve always stressed the importance of being thorough.” 

[themurphyzone]

Nova Ch 12

AN: I’ve been waiting to write this chapter for so long! Can you believe it’s been a year since I started this story? 

Ch 12: Mare

AO3 Link

Dear Mickey Mouse Calendar, 

It’s May 2nd, and you know what that means! Well, besides bringing May flowers of course! The flowers are going to be so beautiful this year, I can tell! Especially once they bring the butterflies and the birds and the bees! Oh dear, do you think Brain knows about the factory in the sky that produces cute little mouse babies? I hope so. 

Anyway, the beautiful, lovely, fantabulous Pharfignewton’s gonna be running in the Derby in just a little bit! She’s worked really really hard to get this far, and I’m super proud of her! She’s gonna be one step closer to the Triple Crown when she wins! 

Anyway, I’m running out of room on this page, so I just wanted to say I love you, Figgy Pudding! May the best mare win!

Love, 

Pinky 

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky added a heart by his name with a sparkly pink gel pen and blew a kiss to the image of Mickey and Minnie driving a cute little car into the sunset. Then he recapped the pen, washed his hands of extra glitter, and returned to the TV, which had been tuned into the Kentucky Derby for the past two hours. 

They were still conducting pre-race interviews with the owners, jockeys, and trainers. Though there were several saddled horses with colorful numbers in the background, none of them were Pharfignewton. 

But they were still very beautiful horses, clopping around on the dirt-covered track as they flicked their ears and tails in anticipation of the race.  

Several boxes of leftover pizza and paper plates were laid out in front of the television.. It was so nice of the scientists to throw a pizza party and let them have the leftovers! Pepperoni, mac and cheese, and pineapple pizza were all so delicious, and they tasted even better when all three were combined on a single slice! 

Pinky popped a pineapple cube in his mouth, giggling as it stung his tongue. Then he turned to his hat, which laid a short distance away from the leftover pizza so it didn’t get soiled. Lovely, glittery red and purple roses decorated the outside of the hat, and every inch was decked with colorful feathers, encouraging messages, and Pharfignewton’s name so everybody for miles around could see he was rooting for his favorite horse. 

Since the hat was too big and heavy for him to wear throughout the pre-race festivities, he decided to just put it on a few minutes before the race instead.

And it was so sweet of Gummy, Madame Daisy, Nicholas, and Mr. Button to support Pharfignewton! They were all gathered in front of the TV so they could watch the Derby too! 

Pinky’s ear twitched at a gagging noise on his left, and he turned his head just in time to see Brain spit a chunk of pineapple onto a napkin. 

“Of all things, why in Selene’s name would you ruin perfectly good cheese with battery acid?” Brain snapped. He immediately dunked his muzzle into a thimble of water. 

“Batteries aren’t a pizza topping,” Pinky said. Did batteries look like pineapples on New Selene? “And pineapple pizza tastes delicious!” 

Brain scowled as he shoved the paper plate with his barely touched pineapple pizza slice towards Pinky, then grabbed a new plate and loaded it with two slices of pepperoni. 

“I’m outlawing that vile piece of filth you call food as soon as I rule the world,” Brain declared. 

“You can’t do that!” Pinky cried. What was next? Declaring pumpkin spice illegal? He would never support such an awful law! “That’s...that’s just unconstitutional! A breach of power! I won’t stand for it, Brain!” 

Then he realized he was standing up to grab the pineapple pizza slice, so he promptly sat down and chomped on pineapple, tomato sauce, and bread to prove his point. 

Brain wrinkled his nose, but before he could reply, the TV panned to show a beautiful, gray-maned white horse prancing in circles around her jockey, nearly tying him up in her reins. 

“That’s her! That’s Pharfignewton!” Pinky yelled, spewing tomato sauce from his mouth. “Hi, Fig! It’s me, Pinky!” 

Pinky quickly set his pizza down and slipped the hat on, sitting underneath the brim while the rest of the hat was propped against the counter. He hoped Pharfignewton could see the messages he’d written. 

“The cameras aren’t two-way, Pinky,” Brain said, but Pharfignewton whinnied happily, so Pinky knew she could hear him from thousands of miles away! 

She wore a beautiful pink cloth over her back with the number fifteen emblazoned in white, with a brown saddle on top. She tossed her head back and whinnied, her reins quivering in the sunlight. Her jockey slipped a pink mask over her face, and when she turned to look at the camera, her gorgeous blue eyes stood out even more. 

“You have quite the unusual horse here, Mr. Gardner,” the reporter said to Pharfignewton’s owner, who Pinky recognized by his bushy beard. “Not much of a looker, nor was she sired from any famous line of racehorses. And only one fellow’s bet on her at all.” 

Pinky frowned. Not much of a looker? That reporter’s obviously never seen Pharfignewton with the wind flowing through her mane, or the joyful neighs whenever she galloped around a field, or how she practically glowed whenever she ran. 

Mr. Gardner leveled a glare at the reporter, who withered from the intense look. “Pharfignewton may have a different build from her fellow racehorses, but she’s a hundred times more passionate about racing than anyone else. It’s true that neither of her parents have competed on the national level, but she’s inherited her mother’s spirit and her father’s diligence, a mixture of traits which will suit her well today.” 

“Yes...I’m sure it will,” the reporter muttered. His eyes darted to a chestnut horse with a yellow cloth draped over his back. “Oh, would you look at the time? I don’t believe I’ve gotten a chance to talk with Mayoneighaise’s team yet!” 

He scurried off, the cameraman trailing behind him. 

A board flashed onscreen, showing the horses’ names and numbers before cutting to commercial. 

“Mr. Legs? Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse? Is this entire competition just an excuse to saddle these poor creatures with horrific names?” Brain asked over the noise of a car commercial. 

“You can’t saddle a name. You saddle horses, Brain,” Pinky said. Brain could be so confused sometimes. 

“And they barely gave Pharfignewton the time of day,” Brain added. “But they dedicated a full fifteen minutes to Arabian Night’s training sessions.” 

Pinky shrugged. “Well, Arabian Night worked really hard. He deserved that time. And so does Maximus and Maverick and Black Beauty and Rainbow Dash and-” 

“It’s blatant favoritism,” Brain cut in. 

The commercial break ended, and the broadcast showed a female reporter approaching an enormous, muscular black stallion with a comically small jockey leading him by the reins. He bore a royal purple cloak with number one written in a fancy golden script on his back. The horse was so dark that Pinky could barely see his eyes or mouth. 

“And here we have the clear fan-favorite, Daddy’s Little Angel,” the reporter declared as she carefully approached the horse, who huffed when she got too close to his muzzle. She pulled back, keeping her microphone close to her body. “An excellent track record locally and regionally, highest odds tonight, and a descendant of the famous Triple Crown winner Secretariat. He sure has a lot going for him, don’t you think?” 

Daddy’s Little Angel was stoic and handsome, and as his owner and trainer listed off his various accomplishments, Pinky crossed his fingers and toes for good luck. Pharfignewton had a whole lot of competition. Sure, she was the fastest racehorse around these parts, but in the Derby she was a small goldfish in a large aquarium full of other fish. 

“Zort! Nope, can’t think like that!” Pinky said, thumping his head with his fist. He didn’t want to have doubts about her talent! She was the best, the swiftest, and the fastest at eating apples and hay! There’s no way she could lose! 

“Quiet, Pinky. I’m trying to listen,” Brain said. His pink eyes gleamed with interest as a montage of Daddy’s Little Angel’s previous feats flashed across the screen. “I wouldn’t be opposed to owning a horse like that for ceremonial purposes.” 

“Parading around on Pharfignewton sounds lovely,” Pinky sighed dreamily. 

He imagined Pharfignewton in a beautiful golden outfit, bells on her reins, and prancing down the street to a cheering crowd while he rode on her back. And there were pretty parade floats and celebrities singing and giant balloons of all his favorite characters! 

He was broken out of his fantasy by the sound of a fanfare. 

“Attention, all riders and horses! Clear the track and proceed to your stalls! The race will commence shortly!” the announcer declared. 

The camera lingered on Daddy’s Little Angel for just a little longer before panning out for a wide shot of the horses and jockeys making their way to the starting point, the trainers leading the horses by the reins and securing them in the stalls. 

Fifteen horses dressed in colorful racing garb whinnied and bucked their hind legs in anticipation of the race. Daddy’s Little Angel was in the first stall, the one nearest to the fence. Next to him, a majestic, stout white horse named Maximus took the number two slot. Like Daddy’s Little Angel, he was poised, calm, and determined to win. 

Most of the other horses were far more impatient though. Rainbow Dash wouldn’t quit stomping in her stall, and Maverick gave her a warning nip when her tail flicked him one too many times. She didn’t like that at all, and both jockeys fought to get their horses under control. 

A cinnamon stallion named Spirit thrashed in his stall, nearly throwing his rider off multiple times while two other people tried to calm him down. 

Then they finally showed Pharfignewton. She was in the stall closest to the stands, and while she was penned securely, the workers were all focused on the skittish racehorses. 

Pharfignewton flashed a horsey smile to the audience, then lowered her head in anticipation for the race to begin. 

Pinky’s fingers, toes, and tail were all crossed. She had to win! This was her dream ever since she was a little filly!

“And they’re off!” the announcer declared as the bell rang and the gates opened. All fifteen horses galloped out of the stalls, kicking up dirt as their hooves thundered against the ground. “Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus off to an early lead! Horsin’ Around’s pulling ahead of Tricky Mickey and...oh! Spirit’s bucked his jockey! That’s gonna cost everyone behind ‘em some time!” 

The names and number display at the bottom of the screen shifted around as horses pulled ahead or fell behind. 

Pinky’s muscles tensed as Pharfignewton swerved to avoid a riderless Spirit, though Achilles’ Heel was unlucky enough to be caught on a back ankle by a flailing hoof. Pharfignewton fell behind Mr. Legs and Mayoneighase for a split second before increasing her speed and passing them as they reached the first turn.

Pharfignewton was truly in her element! Like a happy, gusty wind spirit! 

“YOU CAN DO IT, FIG!” Pinky screamed at the top of his lungs, and there was an angry shushing noise, followed by a parmesan packet smacking the side of his head. “Thanks for the parmesan, Brain!” 

“Onto the second turn!” the announcer continued. “Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus neck and neck! Rainbow Dash and Arabian Night fighting for third a mere two lengths away! Maverick trying to squeeze in but there’s no room! Hold onto your fancy hats, folks, this is shaping up to be a wild race!” 

Egad, he didn’t want to lose his fancy hat! Pinky clutched the edges with cheese-stained fingers. 

“Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus still leading the pack, but trailing them is Black Beauty and Grand Chawhee! Rainbow Dash and Arabian Night have fallen to fifth and sixth! Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse trying for a comeback while Maver-what’s this? Pharfignewton’s clawing her way up from tenth, ninth, eighth, seventh...now she’s passed Rainbow Dash! Ladies and gents, this could be the biggest recovery in the Derby’s history!” 

Oh, if only he remembered where he’d placed his cotton ball pom-poms! They’d come in super handy right now! 

Black Beauty and Grand Chawhee slowed down on the final turn, enabling Pharfignewton to easily overtake them for third place. Then she poured on the speed, closing in between Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus.

“NARF! GO, PHARFIGNEWTON!” Pinky screeched, his hat tumbling off as he leapt to his feet. If he screamed loud enough, Pharfignewton could hear him all the way in Kentucky! And the power of friendship always worked for last-minute wins! His cartoons were never wrong! 

“It’s a straight shot to the finish! Maximus falls back by half a length! Ladies and gents, could this be the greatest upset in horse racing history? It’s Pharfignewton! No, Daddy’s Little Angel pulls ahead! Now Pharfignewton! Daddy’s Little Angel!” 

Brain was quiet, but from the twitch of his pointed ears and the way he leaned forward, Pinky knew he was just as invested in the race. 

The camera centered on the finish line, but Pinky couldn’t tell who crossed first. Pharfignewton and Daddy’s Little Angel galloped offscreen just as the rest of the pack, led by Maximus, finished after them. 

“WHAT’S THIS? PHARFIGNEWTON AND DADDY’S LITTLE ANGEL HAVE CROSSED THE FINISH LINE AT THE SAME TIME! TURNING THE FOOTAGE OVER FOR REVIEW SO WE CAN DECLARE THE WINNER!”

Pinky quickly found that crossing his toes while standing wasn’t the best idea. He fell flat on his face, but quickly pushed himself up on his elbows as the Derby logo flashed by and replayed the last few seconds of the race in slow motion. 

Pharfignewton and Daddy’s Little Angel’s legs were just one giant blur next to the finish line, but the reel paused on a shot of Pharfignewton’s flaring nostril crossing the line before Daddy’s Little Angel’s front hooves touched it. 

Pinky sucked in his breath. 

“PHARFIGNEWTON HAS BEEN DECLARED THE WINNER! CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR VICTORY OVER THE 141ST KENTUCKY DERBY!” 

“She did it! She did it! Lo hicimos, she did it!” Pinky jumped for joy, his heart soaring in excitement for Pharfignewton. She was three years old and she’d accomplished so much! He was super duper extra proud of her! 

Brain rolled his eyes, but there was a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, it seems all your supportive efforts have paid off.” 

Pinky grinned and tore off a cardboard flap of the pizza box, dumped parmesan cheese all over it, and stuffed it into his mouth.

Nothing tasted better than a victory pizza box with parmesan! 

“Want some?” Pinky offered a second flap to Brain. “It’s delicious!” 

Brain made a gagging noise. “That can’t possibly be good for your digestive system, Pinky.” 

Oh well. More for him then! 

Pharfignewton’s back was draped with beautiful roses, her team of humans all rushing up and hugging her as journalists bombarded them all with questions and photographers snapped photo after photo of her horsey smile. 

Daddy’s Little Angel trotted up to her with a flower crown in his mouth and dropped it onto her head, then drummed the ground steadily with a front hoof in his version of applause. All the other horses followed his lead. Even Spirit and Achilles’ Heel, who were being restrained by a team of trainers, gave their approval. Pharfignewton whinnied in delight, tossing back her head and showing off the beautiful crown. 

She really was the best. Pinky clutched his chest, that warm gooshy feeling of love spreading throughout his body. 

He couldn’t contain it much longer, and he picked up Brain to let it all out, and he danced around in joy with a squirming Brain in his arms. 

“Pinky, I understand that this outcome is most favorable, but I demand that you cease this at once!” Brain complained. 

But Pinky barely heard him. He was more interested in what Mr. Gardner had to say. 

“Pharfignewton did an amazing job and we’re very proud of her,” Mr. Gardner said as he fed Pharfignewton an apple, which she gladly inhaled. “Running’s in her blood, and I’m sure she’s made her parents very proud in equine heaven. She’s definitely gonna take the Preakness and Belmont by storm.” 

“You think she’s capable of gaining Triple Crown status?” the reporter asked. 

Pharfignewton neighed loudly in her direction, messing up the reporter’s hair. 

As the reporter struggled to fix it, Mr. Gardner smiled. “I think she made it clear that she takes what she wants.” 

Two more races for the Triple Crown. Right. 

Pinky stopped dancing, an odd but featherlight weight in his arms. In his excitement, he’d forgotten that Pharfignewton had to win the Preakness and Belmont for her dream to come true. 

It wasn’t that she couldn’t do it. She was a swift runner and the best racehorse in the world. But she would be gone for several months. All the way on the other side of the country. 

And he wanted her to achieve her dream so bad. To rank up there with the great racehorses of old. 

“Pinky?” a voice choked. 

He was accidentally squishing one of Brain’s antennae. Oops. 

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky quickly said, putting his friend down. 

Instead of stepping away like Pinky expected, Brain remained where he was. Brain was too good at forming unreadable expressions. His pretty pink eyes seemed concerned though. 

“This is a momentous occasion, isn’t it?” Brain asked. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” 

Was that Selenian speak for happy? 

Yeah, he was supposed to be happy. Pharfignewton won. He was really happy for her. He didn’t want Pharfignewton to think he was a bad friend because he was sad about not seeing her for a while. 

“Of course I’m happy for her,” Pinky said. But it was flimsy even to his own mousey ears. 

Brain didn’t seem convinced either. One hand awkwardly hovered in the space between them. 

A little touch would be nice, and he held super still so Brain wouldn’t get spooked. But a tapping at the window broke Brain’s trance, and upon the sight of a hovering black camera with the Selenian logo on its side, he quickly pulled away. 

“Correspondence from Snowball,” Brain said. His ears flattened briefly before returning to their normal position. Maybe he regretted breaking their closeness too. “I’m taking this.” 

He wiped his fingers on a wet cloth before unlatching the window. The camera darted in once the window was open, its tripod claws dropping an unmarked envelope into Brain’s hands before flying off into the brilliant evening sky. 

Well, it could’ve had pizza if it stayed just a little longer. 

Pinky moved behind Brain as he tore open the envelope and unfolded the note inside, which was written in a neat script. 

Pickup at seven pm tomorrow. Don’t be late. 

-Snowball

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Brain sighed. “I’ll make sure we have everything required for tomorrow night, Pinky.” 

He didn’t wait for a reply. He only disappeared into a hidden drawer where all their belongings were stored. 

The masquerade ball was important. He shouldn’t keep Brain from making sure they saved the invitation so they could get in. 

And it would be nice to wear that beautiful dress Sharon picked out. 

But there was an ache in his chest. One that gnawed at his heart, and he didn’t want that icky feeling gnawing at his heart. Pinky sat in front of the TV and focused on Pharfignewton’s happiness instead. He pushed away the pizza, the box tasting like cardboard on his tongue. 

If she was happy, he was happy. And wasn’t that all he needed?

End AN: So as a little treat I snuck some fictional horse names in here. I mean, obviously you know Pharfignewton as Pinky’s equine girlfriend. Daddy’s Little Angel is the name of the horse Brain rode in the OG Animaniacs episode Jockey for Position.

Grand Chawhee’s name is a reference to All Dogs Go to Heaven. Tricky Mickey comes from the 1978 movie Casey’s Shadow, which I caught my family watching a few weeks ago and I just decided to borrow a name from the movie.

Rainbow Dash from My Little Pony, Maximus from Tangled, Black Beauty from the book of the same name, Spirit from the Dreamworks movie, and Achilles’ Heel is a reference to Phoebus’ horse in Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Mr. Legs’ name provided by Boxy. Thank you, Boxy. Snuck in Pinky actually eating a pizza box for ya lol.

Final placements for the Derby are:

1. Pharfignewton 2. Daddy’s Little Angel 3. Maximus 4. Grand Chawhee 5. Black Beauty 6. Rainbow Dash 7. Arabian Night 8. Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse 9. Mr. Legs 10. Maverick 11. Horsin’ Around 12. Tricky Mickey 13. Mayoneighase 14. Achilles’ Heel (never finished) 15. Spirit (never finished)

Next chapter will finally have the Masquerade Ball and boy do I have plans. It’ll definitely be longer than this one. But this chapter at least wraps up the Derby subplot.

[lovee-infected]

twisted wonderland theories part 3 : Opening explanation and parallels

Well well , hope you guys enjoyed reading the previous two parts of twst theories so far

Anyways , this is the third part . I decided to go through the opening and original disney animations and also black Butler anime references one more time so this is the combination of all I've found this time , together with some stuff you might've missed

Twst's official opening was pretty mysterious and is most likely giving us hints of the upcoming adventures during the storyline . Well here's the link to opening with eng sub and also the summary of the main character references that were given to us:

1) Ace and Deuce's rivalship : We talked about this one a lot back in (part 2) so let's skip this one

2) Leona's sadness and pain : Leona's tearn falling to the ground and the Ruggie and Jack coming for him ; that's just how he always is : mentally sad and broken with a horribly frustrating past , but will avoid expressing himself and letting anyone see his pain anyway . Not really weird that these two are always around him , Leona does really need to be looked after ...

3) Azul's seek of power : He just looked...mad in this scene . Ursula's shadow on his fave and that creepy smile totally freaks anyone out. It really explains how great his desire of power is . His neglected self in the childhood and pretty poor talent got him to this point...

4) Jamil's cold and kinda confused self : Well this one isn't really clear yet since ch 4 isn't out . But perhaps depression has this guy... spending his whole life serving the the nasty Kalim he might've grown the same characteristics as Jafar , who was so long sick of being the second one in everything . But still his ideal of life is much different from Jafar's . We saw him hypnotizing Kalim in order to make him force students to do better at school . He's trying his best to leave up to his promises as the vice dorm leader but still , having the nasty Kalim as the dorm itself is making it a lot harder for him so he's got no choice but to hypnotize him...

5) Idia's severe anxiety and his protectiveness toward Ortho : This one was mentioned in s rather old re blog but here e go again : Well with how the rumors of the "cursed Shroud family" , Idia's anti-society self might be a bit explained . This guy's overblot is surely going to be EPIC ... we just know very few about him and yet that's more than enough for him to overblot at once . Also the mention of the process of bringing Ortho back to life was a bad hit...His family curse might've been the reason of whatever thst has happened to Ortho

6) Vil's anger of not being the fairest and breaking the mirror: This one's been pointed out a lot . His anger being the same as evil queen's and also the fear of him actually poisoning someone to become the fairest one more time....**

7) Malleus' isolated self and his hidden evil aura : This one's being shown too obviously . The lonely dark prince exposing his evil side under the full moonlight . All alone , beyond the forest of thorns (Lol how ironic) while the others are running to save him before it gets too late...***

(note : **,***: Vil and Malleus' description will be continued undercut)

Very well these were the general hints found on the opening , but don't miss the final seconds which included the biggest hidden facts you could've missed

Firstly , the splitted ink (This one was previously discussed on part 1 but still...) : We talked about how in the "Epic Mickey", Mickey accidentally splits the magic ink over the kingdom and which led to the creation of "shadow blot". This sight seems to be much similar to what we had here in the epic mickey

Well this parallel might be more than just an accidental one and finally and it might actually be that overblot is kinda Crowley's fault , too

Crowley crosses the mirror , turns into an actual crow and flies away...(DaMn YoU bIrDiE wHERe ArE yOu gOinG I'M noT doNe YeT-)

Well the reason he suddenly runs away isn't clear yet but being a fan of black butler for years , I was suddenly reminded of how Undertaker disappeared all of a sudden at this scene from the movie :" Book of Atlantic "

pretty similar , aren't they..?

In Book of Atlantic , Undertaker revealed his original identity as a reaper and the mastermind behind the "Bizzare dolls' " project after pretending to be a just a crazy cookie lover for so long . And at once , he comes up with his stunning sudden self-reveal , leaving everyone in the room speechless

Now now , what do we have with Crowley?

A principal who keeps hiding his face (remember that Undertaker hid his eyes , too?) , telling everyone "how kind he is" many times ... also:

1) In the opening , he was standing smiling in the mirror hall while the seven dorms were burning through seven mirrors

2) He didn't ever try to stop anyone from overbloting ; even Riddle whose overblot occurred right in front of him

3) In the beggining of the game, he asked the mirror to choose the right one and then! and MC was chosen ! MC took the hand of the one appearing through the mirror (seemingly Dire Crowley) and came here. With all said , so why did the mirror reject MC afterwards?

Also , how couldn't he help MC return to Their own world and didn't know about it if he himself brought MC here..?(Could it be that...MC doesn't remember how she/he was brought here?)

4) If he literally is THIS useless and can't ever stop or help anything, then why would he be the principal.....?

Sooooo enough with Crowley ; but what's with these two....?

The spindle wheel & the poison apple ; Sleeping beauty and Snow white

Well it seems that Diasomnia and Pomefiore are going to play a greatly important role in the storyline . We were kinda sure of Diasomnia's but Pomefiore's...? What's so special with it?

(A few hours earlier)

(Me : Hmmm ... the black mirror...where have I seen this before..? *googling - searching Snow White- going to the magic mirror scene* Me : Uh...)

Well... here it is : The Crowley's beloved flower of evil , back at his days with evil queen

feeling old yet ...?

Btw , just how important is being "the fairest one of all "to him ? How 'far' would he go to be the fairest...? With the bitten apple in the last few seconds of opening , it most likely seems that he IS gonna 'kill' to be the fairest again ...Who would he kill ? We don't know . But how about our pretty small guy Epel? Could it be him ? The stubborn freshman who refuses following Vil around and is usually mistaken with a girl......?

Also , why would the original mirror be so important to Crowley? If Vil's supposed to represent evil queen , why isn't 'he' the one owing the mirror...?

And now , the spindle wheel .Great maleficent's legacy , in the hands of Crowley...Well well this is 'too' much . Malleus' family treasure being kept hidden in NRC... pathetic

Also , the mirror which Vil broke in the opening . Well well seems like he isn't having the original magic mirror , afterall....

But wait , if there's the spindle wheel , who's gonna be the evil witch to pull the sweet princess to eternal sleep..? Right , there's only one who might be...

Well we talked about all we'd got so far , but what about Grim ? Isn't anyone going to mention his importance or why he was also mentioned in this chaotic final seconds of opening ???

So... this is what we had in the final seconds :

1)The apple

2) Crowley

3)The black ink

4)Grim

5)The spindle wheel

We talked about all of them except nu 4 . But before that , I've got the same question as before : Why is it "Sleeping beauty" & "Snow white"..?

We discussed the "overblot Grim " hints in (part 2), but here's another thing :

Very well , ever heard of "Grimm brothers"...?

In the case that you don't know who they are , here' the point : They are the authors of 'original' versions of sleeping beauty & snow white; two of the darkest , deepest and possibly creepiest stories of their own throughout the history

I believe that most of you are familiar with the original versions , but you may like to take a look at these two if you haven't yet heard of them check the two of these stories out : (note: I'm aware that there are darker , deeper versions of these too but I'm not gonna mention any of them because : 1)They aren't written by Grimm brothers & 2) They include overly sensual and inappropriate content which has no place in my posts . If you care to know about them , check them at your own risk)

Alright , if you ever wondered who was Grim named after , I guess we've got it now . Mentioning Grim , Snow white and Sleeping beauty together at once is too direct to be a coincidence ...but it's also terrifying ...

Thinking that Disney is actually referring to the original books written by Grimm brothers is a bit too dark... Original stories are really horrible and a great way to ruin one's childhood , but all these hints fit each other way too great and now , they may no longer be just a coincidence...

[werewolfsmile]

With You - Ch 5

The English, Whipplocke (Eli x Cornelia)

Mature Rathing, graphic violence, period-typical racism, post-canon, canon divergent, found family, angst, references to rape

5,126 words

Read it on AO3

There was blood on White Moon's face. Difficult to see in the dim light from the campfire and long since dried but it was there nonetheless. Anger seethed inside of Cornelia and she stared at White Moon, hoping to convey some of her intent through that passionate gaze alone.

He stared back, recognition clear on his face accompanied by concern. Still pacing by the campfire, Mickey kicked a rock and White Moon flinched.

This simply would not do. Cornelia finally tore her gaze away from White Moon and set about examining every inch of the shabby campsite she could lay her eyes on. Staying here and waiting for those men to come back with her money and rape her was entirely out of the question. No, no, she would simply have to escape before then.

The ground was covered in hard rocks, many of them directly beneath her. Cornelia shifted, groping blindly with her hands that were tied behind her back, hoping for one that was sharp enough.

"Oi! What you doin', woman?" snapped Mickey in his voice that was far too youthful for a real outlaw. Just an overgrown child. What unfortunate set of circumstances had led him down this path of wickedness and cruelty?

Focusing back on the task at hand, Cornelia thought quickly.

"Dear Mother and Father," she began. Mickey's face scrunched in confusion. "I apologise for the delay in writing but things in the west have been a tad more complicated than I could foresee."

"Hey! There ain't no one else here! Jus' shut up, you hear?"

"Excuse me, young man, but your manners are simply deplorable," she shot back. Mickey's mouth dropped open. "Now, if you don't mind, I am long overdue in composing a letter to my parents and since I have nothing better to do with my time, I might as well focus on that! Barring any other untimely interruptions, of course."

She cast an imperious and haughty glare at him. Micky could only blink in return, clearly baffled as to what to make of her. Cornelia arched an eyebrow then nodded to herself. Behind her back, her hands kept searching until a sting of pain indicated possible victory.

"Now, where was I? Ah, yes. It seems that I have fallen in with a rather motley group of unemployed travellers. A desperate sort, they seek work wherever they can find it through whatever means at their disposal. Now, I know you must be thinking that they sound a rather dangerous lot. But let me reassure you, they have promised only to violate my person after they have looted all my money. A most generous offer, I am sure you would agree!"

"You are barkin' mad, woman! Now shut up! No one wants to hear you yammerin' on all the time."

"For heaven's sake, young man! Were you raised by dogs? No? If only! Surely even mongrels have better manners than you!"

Mickey stalked up to her, anger on his young face. Cornelia leant back as he approached and tried to ignore the anxious expression from White Moon. This close, she could see the acne that marked Mickey's skin and the softness of his face that had yet to harden into that of a man.

"I think you're forgettin' who's in charge around here, woman. It's me! And I don't wanna hear no more of your stuck up voice. So shut it! Or I'll shut it permanently!" He brandished the rifle, as though it could offer any real threat. Cornelia regarded him coolly, unaffected.

"Forgive my saying so but I was under the impression that the other angry man was in charge. You remember, middle aged, violent? He shot that man dead where he stood."

She gestured to the body lying not three metres from her feet. The body that Mickey had been studiously avoiding in all his manic pacing. Mickey swore now and paced again, but this time his eyes went to the body over and over again.

Cornelia redoubled her efforts. Rock clutched tightly in one hand, she sawed fiercely at the rope binding her wrists.

"Wasn't meant to be like this," Mickey muttered. One hand rose to his mouth and he chewed frenetically on a fingernail till he realised what he was doing and jerked it away. "Just a quick job, in and out. Weren't nobody meant to get hurt! Least of all Benny."

There was vulnerability in Mickey's voice when he spoke of his murdered comrade. Cornelia hesitated, glancing up to see the anguish visible on Mickey's face for barely a moment before it was gone.

"You know, in all the excitement, I never did get the name of the man that killed your friend. Not that I care to be introduced to someone so violent, but it seems right that when someone wishes you harm, you should at least know their name."

She kept sawing and Mickey kept pacing, the rifle lowered towards the ground now.

"Jensen, that's his name." Mickey swore and spat. "Been nothin' but trouble, ever since he took over the group."

"An outlaw gang, is that it?"

"Naw, not at first. We was just runnin' things off the track. Y'know, away from pryin' eyes. But then Jensen … It's been nothin' but killin' and thievin' since him. Not what I signed up for."

The ropes were weakening. Cornelia forced herself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Rushing this and screwing it up was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I understand," she said and Mickey scoffed. "No, really, I do! I first came to America several months ago and, oh, I was terribly naive. Had no idea what I was getting myself into. Walked straight into a trap that was going to cost me my life with no visible way out. I thought, that's it! I'm done for! But you know what happened next?" Mickey stared at her and Cornelia smiled. "Magic."

The rope snapped. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she shook her wrists free.

"White Moon, now!"

Mickey's head swung towards White Moon, alarm on his face. White Moon let out a ululating battle cry and Cornelia surged to her feet. She lunged for the rifle, wrestling with Mickey as he cried out and tried to fend her off. They struggled against each other, each fighting for the upper hand until –

Bang! Mickey screamed and fell to the ground.

Cornelia stepped back, aiming the rifle at the young man as she panted in the wake of adrenaline. He writhed, blood staining his lower leg.

"You shot me, you bitch!"

"It is no less than you and the rest of your gang had planned for me," she retorted coldly. "Stop your fussing, it's not mortal. You'll live."

Bending down by Benny's dead corpse, Cornelia pulled his knife free from its sheath. Keeping a sharp eye on Mickey, she crossed the camp to White Moon and crouched behind him. It was a risk to take her eyes off Mickey but she did it all the same, quickly cutting through the bonds on White Moon's wrists. He sighed in relief and took the knife when she offered it.

"What're you gonna do to me?" Mickey asked, his voice trembling as the two of them returned to him. White Moon was a little slower and Cornelia cast her gaze over him again. No visible injuries, other than a swollen, bruised eye and blood on his face. He must be simply stiff from being trapped in that awful position.

"Keep you alive, for now. White Moon, bind his leg."

Cornelia gestured and White Moon nodded back. He had known barely any English when she first met him months ago, and she had no idea if that had changed since then. Still, he seemed to understand her well enough. He tore a strip of cloth from Benny's body and tied it tightly around Mickey's wounded leg.

Next, they tied Mickey to a stake in the ground. Cornelia ensured there were no weapons hidden on his person, nor sharp rocks around. Then she bound his ankles, for good measure. He moaned and whimpered, playing the pathetic victim until she could stand it no longer and gagged him.

Only then did she turn to White Moon, concern swarming through her.

"Oh, White Moon!" Cornelia ran gentle fingers over his bruised face but he smiled up at her.

"Is okay," he said in a halting, uncertain voice. Cornelia could not help it; she hugged him tightly and felt a surge of relief when he hugged her back.

"We need to be smart about this. It would be simple to cut our losses and run, but I don't fancy the idea of having these men at our back. Besides, I want my horse – and my money. So, it's decided then. We'll stay and ambush them in return."

White Moon stared at her blankly, clearly not comprehending her ramblings. Cornelia smiled and laid a gentle hand on his cheek before getting to work.

It did not take long to find all the weapons left in the camp. Less time again for White Moon to understand her intent and set to work. In a little over an hour, they had the entire campsite booby trapped. Mickey was still tightly trussed up and his wound had stopped bleeding. Satisfied, Cornelia settled on a ridge overlooking the campsite, while White Moon hid behind a cluster of rocks.

The nerves began to set in as they sat and waited. What if Jensen and his men suspected the trap? What if they took all night to return? What if Mickey died of the wound? Or even worse, what if White Moon got killed? He was just a boy, she should be protecting him from this violence, not directly involving him!

Can't let it infect. Up here neither.

Cornelia forced all those doubts from her mind. The memory of Eli's words fortified her and she clutched at the osprey skull in its pouch. He was right; thinking like that wouldn't change anything. She had to stay focused, keep her eyes on the task at hand. The magic had brought her this far. It would not abandon her now.

The hours dragged on. Cornelia watched the stars slowly turning overhead, her eyes drifting to the scorpion and the wolf. Soon, she promised herself. Soon she would lie beneath the sky with Eli and share stories of the stars.

Finally, she sensed a change in the landscape. A faint tremor through the ground – hoofbeats. She shifted position, glancing down to see White Moon looking up to her. They nodded to each other and readied themselves.

Jensen was the first to come into view, closely flanked by two others. Three more rode behind them, with the central man leading Cornelia's horse. Heart racing in her chest and palms sweating in her gloves, Cornelia gave the nod.

White Moon pulled the rip cord. A cacophony of gunshots rang out. Men shouted and screamed and fell, horses neighing in panic. Adrenaline spiked in Cornelia's veins. It had worked! She hadn't been sure, it had taken so much time to set up so many rifles. But this! This was glorious!

"Over there!" Jensen shouted as he picked himself off the ground and pointed towards White Moon's hiding place. Remembering herself, Cornelia whipped up her own rifle, sighted, and fired.

The bullet tore through Jensen's gut and he collapsed to his knees, clutching the wound desperately. White Moon seized the opportunity to run, tipping over a lantern as he went.

Flames whooshed towards the sky as they ignited the oil that had been carefully spilt upon the ground. The last men – only three of them now – shouted and pointed but could only fire blindly through the smoke. Cornelia took her time, remembering to breathe as she ratcheted another bullet and squeezed the trigger.

Another man fell. Only two left. The flames had reached behind the horses now, cutting off their escape. White Moon howled a battle cry and threw an axe. It sank deep into one man's throat and he clutched at it, hands tugging uselessly as he crumpled in the dust.

The last one was sharp. His eyes turned up towards Cornelia's high vantage point and he fired. She ducked, breathless as the bullet skimmed just over her head.

White Moon howled again. Cornelia's heart leapt to her throat. Heedless of her own safety, she surged back up to stare down at it all below. Her rifle aimed at the last man but she hesitated, mouth dry. White Moon had jumped the line of fire and he tackled the man, stabbing wildly with a dagger.

"No, no. Get out of there!" Cornelia gasped.

The man fought back. A harsh blow to the side of the head knocked White Moon to the ground, dazing him. The man kicked him then snatched the blade from his hands. He seized a fistful of White Moon's hair, dragging him up as he brandished the dagger.

Cornelia fired again. The man cried out and let go – winged. She swore and hurried to reload but White Moon was already moving. Tearing his dagger from the man's hands, White Moon lunged up. The blade sank deep and the man went slack, falling lifelessly to the ground.

Cornelia scrambled out of her hiding place. The descent was steep but she paid it little heed, half-running, half-skidding down the slope. The flames were already beginning to die down and White Moon stepped out from them, battered but alive.

Jensen groaned. Cornelia lifted her gun, all her rage and vengeance coming back to her in an instant. His hands were soaked in blood as he tried to hold himself together, a faint crimson tinge flecking his lips. She lowered her gun; it would be over soon.

"You … you bitch," Jensen wheezed, his lungs whistling.

"I told you. Should have simply held me at gun point." Cornelia tilted her head to the side. "I knew I would kill you from the moment you mocked me." ??

It was gruesome work, watching a man die. But Cornelia had endured far more gruesome things in her life. In comparison, this was vindication. When Jensen finally lay still on the blood-soaked ground and the light had gone out in his eyes, she let out a deep breath and turned away.

"Cornelia." She looked up to see White Moon standing over Mickey. "What do with him?"

Slinging the rifle onto her back, she strode over. Mickey stared up at them, eyes wide in terror. To leave him alive was a liability and possibly a slow death. Killing him here would be much cleaner. And yet …

Cornelia thought back to the Pawnee man that Eli had failed to shoot. What might have become of that man if Cornelia had not stepped into that space? If she never lifted the bow?

Perhaps Eli was right and that man had already been dead. But Mickey was young and Cornelia was tired of watching young men's stories get cut short.

"Leave him. Put a knife near him when we go. If he wants to live, he'll have to fight for it."

~*~

They moved on as soon as Eli was strong enough to stand. It wasn't safe to linger near so many bodies for the sake of wild animals alone, never mind the risk of other people coming upon them. So they scavenged everything of worth from the bodies, loaded up their horses, and left.

Red Feather had done an excellent job of tending to his wounds. The graze on his neck was deep and would certainly scar, but was already healing without the need of stitches. The bullet hole through his left shoulder was another matter entirely. Red Feather's poultices had thoroughly cleaned it but it needed stitches.

That first night after they moved camps, Eli helped talk Red Feather through crafting a needle out of bone. They had few options for thread but they had the horses. It was simple enough for Red Feather to cut some strands of tail hair and boil them before threading through the bone needle.

Eli gave no complaint as she stabbed deeper than she needed, or pulled a little too hard. She was just a child and she had never stitched a wound before. He suppressed all his reactions and spoke only encouragement.

They found shelter in a rocky grove off the beaten track. Water was scarce but there were thick, stubborn scrubby plants growing in the grove. They provided suitable shade, so Eli and Red Feather settled in for a few days. Eli needed time to recover before they pushed on harder. The risk of infection aside, he could barely lift his left arm. If they encountered anyone else wanting to kill them, Eli would hardly be able to fight.

Red Feather flicked twigs at the campfire that evening, her eyes lost deep in thought. Eli tried not to think about how far they still had to travel. Would Cornelia even be there by the time they reached Nebraska? What if she had gone somewhere else in search of him?

"Tell me about Cornelia."

Eli's head jerked up. Red Feather's serious gaze met his across the campfire, unwavering in her intensity.

"Why?" he asked and Red Feather rolled her eyes.

"I know you're thinkin' about her. And there's nothin' else to do here."

Fair enough. Eli let his eyes drift to the flames as he marshalled his thoughts. How could he sum up the magic and power of that woman in a way Red Feather would understand?

"Cornelia's unlike any person you ever met. She got no clue how the west works and almost got herself killed more times than you would believe. But she never let that stop her. She just keeps goin'. Somehow it works. She believes in magic. Was convinced that we were meant to meet, that all these dark things in our lives had a purpose. I didn't agree with that."

He wanted to, despite the stubborn, pragmatic part of him that had seen so much death and horror and destruction. Eli wanted to throw his sensibilities into the wind and race on magic, just like Cornelia had done.

She had to be right. How could it be anything but magic? After all she had survived and the distances she had travelled, how could Eli ever doubt her magic?

"How did you meet?" Red Feather shifted to lie on her belly, chin propped on her hands and feet kicked up behind her. Such an innocent, carefree position. Eli's heart warmed to see her so relaxed.

"Tried to save my life. Almost lost her own in the process but … Somehow we survived. From there, well." He shrugged. "Ain't no real reason for why I said yes. Maybe it was magic. Either way, I agreed to take her north. So we went."

"Eli, you tell the worst stories," Red Feather declared dramatically and flopped her head into the dirt. He stared at her, taken aback.

"What else do you want from me?" he asked and she groaned.

"You told me what happens without proper tellin' anything! Try again!"

He could not help the smile that curved one corner of his mouth. Cornelia had been similar, coaxing the finer details out of him in that endlessly curious way of hers. Red Feather was far more direct but it was enough for his heart to pang in longing.

So Eli spoke again. He filled in the details, even though it felt strange to reveal so much of himself after so many years guarding everything. And Red Feather listened, entranced by the stories of the white woman who had travelled without fear to avenge her son.

Sleep came easier to Eli that night. To speak of Cornelia in such a way left him feeling lighter than he had expected. He had not realised just how badly he had needed to speak of her, to share that part of himself with someone.

He drifted off under the light of the stars, chest full of a comfortable hope that he had not felt in a long time. He dreamt of Cornelia – dreamt of seeing her in the village of his birth, surrounded by family members that had long since walked the Path of the Dead. She smiled at him and held out her hand – but he could not see it clearly. The image was blurred and when he tried to focus, it slipped away into a kaleidoscope of grassy plains, bloodied bodies and howling wolves.

Eli woke abruptly with sweat on his brow. His gut twisted and all sense of easy hope was gone. What did such dreams mean? If only he could go to a kúrahus! He dragged a hand across his face – then realised it was not his dreams that had woken him.

Red Feather whimpered on the other side of the smouldering campfire. She twitched and thrashed, limbs flailing drunkenly. Eli propped himself up a little, wondering if it was wise to wake her. But then she screamed. Her spine arched and her cries wailed loudly, so pitiful and heartbroken that he could not have stopped himself if he tried.

Throwing back his blanket, Eli hurried to her. He caught her flailing arms with his hands, hushing her quietly.

"It's alright, Red Feather. It's alright. Wake up."

She struggled harder, brow pinching tightly against her nightmares. Eli stroked her hair back from her face, not even noticing when he slipped into his native language.

"Awi'uusik, čuú'at. Awi'uusik."

Red Feather jolted awake suddenly. Eyes wide and breaths heaving her chest, she screamed and yanked away from him, kicking madly.

"Red Feather!" Eli said loudly and her eyes snapped to him. He watched cognizance filter back in before she sagged, shaking from the terror of it all. Eli reached out, hands hovering over her in a gentle request as he spoke. "You're safe. Just a nightmare. It's over."

Her face crumpled as emotions took over. A wail escaped her, following by a shuddering sob. Eli opened his mouth to speak again – but she moved too fast. Red Feather threw herself into his arms, howling between her wrenching sobs. Small fists dug into his back and pulled at his clothes. Her head bumped his as she cried, voice so loud his ears rang.

He did not care. She was all that mattered. Eli curled his arms around her, whispering softly in Pawnee. He rocked her and soothed her, trailing fingers through her tangled hair. His neck ached and his shoulder throbbed in agony but it barely registered.

Red Feather was so strong and independent, it was easy to forget just how young and fragile she was. Eli was reminded now, as she curled into an anguished ball in his lap. So small and so light. Her scent still carrying that edge of childhood. Grief filled him and he held her tighter.

No child should have to suffer like this.

"I-I saw him. I saw him!" she wailed in between sobs and hiccups. She shook so viscerally that Eli felt it in his bones. "I saw the, the blood, the …"

Eli hushed her as words failed her. Red Feather screamed and cried, inconsolable for what felt like hours. He held her through it all, letting her small body purge the emotions that had been building like a storm for weeks. He rocked her, whispering Pawnee lullabies in her ears.

Red Feather cried herself out at length. Her sounds of anguish dwindled, her grip loosening until she was slack and limp, an exhausted bundle in his lap. Eli carried her back to his bedroll and lay down with her head on his chest.

He used to do this with his own children when they could not sleep. Lying by the fire with an ear pressed over his heart, the sound of his heartbeat and breathing would eventually lull them back to sleep. It worked the same way now – Red Feather's breathing evened out and her body finally calmed that little bit further. Eli kept stroking her hair, humming under his breath as he stared into the embers of the fire.

There was no point in trying to go back to sleep himself. He was too unsettled, mind still troubled from his own dreams and body wide awake. So he carefully tossed another branch on the fire and watched the stars slowly turning above him.

If wishes were where we would be, then we would be where we are not.

The cold months would be upon them soon. Eli could see it in the tilt of the sky and smell it on the air. His thoughts drifted back to Cornelia – as they always did – and worry gnawed at his gut.

She had not experienced winter on the plains. She would have no idea of the danger, the multitude of risks. If Eli could not find her before the first snowfall, what hope would she have? The thought of her lost in a blizzard, calling for him and slowly freezing to death, lodged in his mind and chilled his heart.

No. He could not think like that! Cornelia was smart, for all her recklessness. She would understand the dangers, surely. She would take up residence in some town for the winter. Yes, surely that was it. He need not worry, Cornelia had survived too much to foolishly throw what was left of her life away.

Thoughts of the posters she had commissioned flashed through his mind but he pushed them aside. No point in thinking about something that would only make him angry. There would be time enough for that later.

Eli glanced down at Red Feather. He had endured many cold winters as a soldier. He knew how to survive under the harsh elements. But with a young daughter in tow?

Perhaps it would be wise for them to find somewhere to stay for the winter, as well. Travel would only get harder when the snow came, not to mention the risk of sickness.

Eli jerked his head away; no, he couldn't bear to think of it! After losing so many children to fevers, the thought of Red Feather suffering the same terrified him.

He never should have taken her with him, he should have found somewhere else for her to go! Bearing the responsibility of her life in his hands was a fool's game. Her blood would taint him sooner or later, he knew that. He never should have claimed her as his daughter.

Ah, but such thoughts only sought to protect himself, did they not? Eli let out a heavy breath and glanced down at Red Feather. No. He did not regret claiming her, no matter what his doubts and fears said. He cared for her, and would carry her in his heart from now till the beyond.

No matter what became of her.

The sun rose slowly that morning. Eli watched its light creep across the land, until it bathed him and Red Feather. She stirred soon after, movements sluggish and eyes still puffy from the night before. Eli said nothing as she pulled away from him and wandered to the edge of the camp.

She went to the horses. They nosed at her hands and she stroked their muzzles then pulled out the grooming brush. She tended to her own horse, a dark bay gelding with a crooked stripe down his face.

Letting her have her space, Eli turned to his own morning rituals. He cleaned himself up as best he could without wasting too much water, then changed his clothes. The ones Red Feather had cried on would need to be washed. Best that they aim to find a creek or a spring today.

Red Feather came back as Eli pulled out some dried meat for a light breakfast. She sat on the edge of his bedroll – close, but not touching – and accepted when he offered her some food. They ate in silence and Eli let the silence stretch, knowing she would speak when she was ready.

"I dreamt about that man," Red Feather finally said, her voice scratchy. Eli took a moment to swallow his mouthful and studied her face.

"The one you killed."

She flinched but nodded. Eli hummed and chewed on another strip.

"I keep … seein' him. Over and over. No face, just … blood and bone." She shuddered, the dried meat in her hand forgotten. Eli turned a little and waited until Red Feather met his gaze.

"You did what you had to do," he said, voice heavy with the weight of how serious he was. She sniffed, lower lip wobbling.

"But it's like you said. I almost killed you. Didn't wanna do that. Didn't wanna kill him, either, but he was there and I was so scared …" She broke off, eyes turning out to the horizon as she fought against tears.

Eli dared to reach out a hand in offering. A beat passed between them, then Red Feather clutched his hand, her small fingers curling tightly around his palm.

"I don't blame you for that. Can't change it, it's done. And when I said those things …" He sighed. "Maybe I was too hard on you. Ain't no time but a moment to make those choices. You killed him. We both lived – thanks to you."

"But now he's hauntin' me. I can't sleep without seein' him." Her hand trembled in his grasp.

"You will. One day. Till then, just remember. You did what you had to do. Ain't no way of changin' the past. Gotta find a way to move forward."

"How?"

"Keep livin'. Dunno. Some days I'm still tryin' to do the same, myself."

Red Feather shuffled closer to him until she was pressed against his side. She kept his hand held tightly in her own, tracing over the callouses on his skin.

"D'you think Cornelia will want me?" Her voice was so soft and fragile, tentative. Yet the words resonated loud within him and Eli felt himself reeling at the unexpected mention of her.

"Cornelia's a woman with a lot of love to give. I never saw a limit to it. Almost cost her life, time and again. So I say yes, she'll want you. And if she doesn't? She'll learn to. You belong with me, čuú'at. Not even Cornelia gonna change that."

Red Feather sniffled and turned to bury her face in his chest. Eli wrapped an arm around her, and almost missed the muffled words she spoke into his jacket.

"Biixoo3é3en, neisonoo."

Eli did not need to understand the words; he felt their meaning in his soul. He held her tighter.

"Tâtačiksta, čuú'at."