#how dare she reconcile with her mother and have her own office and apartment and drink tea with ebba and vidar

[eldritchqueerture]

🫥🫥🫥

[damgoodjob]

Because I’m tired of people being raggedy

A long one…

…I’ve been resting…but I saw a status that poked me a bit.

I can say this now…and I say it without apology or holding my tongue.

First, I acknowledge and pay respect to the individuals who lost their lives in Kabul. It’s hard to see families break down when their loved ones are brought home with American flags draped over their coffins. I hope to never have to experience that. Ever.

I saw a status that called people who don’t stand for the flag a “disgrace”, and I hope to share some perspective.

A few years ago, a friend of mine who had fought for this country came into my inbox and basically told me that unless I laced my boots up and fought for this country, I had no right to ever criticize America…that’s where I struggle…I struggle with veterans who think that they have the right to tell me how to think, act, stand or speak with regards to this country because of a decision they made in serving this country as military personnel.

I will always do my best to support the decisions of friends who choose to go into the military. I support my younger brother who is a Marine.

What I find the most disconcerting is that people will mourn the death of individuals who have lost their lives in combat overseas, but remain silent when Black people are unjustly killed right here on American soil by police officers and racist bigots…and then have so much to say in opposition to movements like Black Lives Matter (which shouldn’t be a movement, but rather an understanding) when a Black person is killed in a city like Chicago.

You did not grieve for Atatiana…you backed the Blue.

You did not grieve for Tamir…you backed the Blue.

You did not grieve for Sweet Aiyana…you backed the Blue.

You did not grieve for Akai…you backed the Blue.

You did not grieve for Elijah…sweet Elijah…you backed the blue.

You did not grieve for Beautiful Breonna…you backed the Blue.

You. Did. Not. GRIEVE for George Floyd…you waited for every piece of evidence to come out about him that would justify him no longer existing on this earth, and you backed the Blue.

With footage of Derek Chauvin’s KNEE on his neck for almost ten minutes…you watched that man die, having not resisted…you contributed to Derek’s bail, you prayed for his family, and you backed the Blue.

When Black people are murdered because of the color of their skin…are their killers a disgrace?

When our Forefathers…some of whom owned Blacks as slaves, would maim, rape, and kill enslaved Black people…were they a disgrace? They had statues erected in their honor…so certainly their good outweighed their bad, right? If a few Negro heads had to roll for democracy and the birth of this great nation, so be it.

When fire hoses and dogs were turned on Black people who protested and marched for equality…were those officers a disgrace?

In the eyes of so many Americans, a disgrace is anything that would dare to challenge the status quo…and the reason why racism no longer exists, never existed, or no longer has any bearing in the eyes of the average American citizen is because RACISM IS the status quo. Racism IS business as usual. RACISM doesn’t exist because RACISM has proven to BE the American way for so many.

So what if a few Blacks can’t afford healthcare?

So what if COVID 19 affects the Black community at larger rates?

So what if the number of Black people who die from COVID 19 is significantly larger than any other group in certain areas?

So what if a few Black people get shot by the police?

The response to Black Lives Matter is All Lives Matter…followed by Blue Lives Matter…but no one who Backs the Blue or drives around with that Blue painters tape on their car, or adorns decals of the American Flag with that blue line in the stripes would ever agree that just like their lives matter, the life of an unarmed Black person matters…creating Blue Lives Matter as a response is saying directly to Black people…if you die, you die.

It broke my heart to see a mother kneel down as she met her son’s flag draped coffin as his body was returned home…

…but I realize that so many of you who would call someone who doesn’t stand for the flag a “disgrace”, would never shed a tear seeing Elijah McClain’s mother break down after taking Elijah off life support…

Seeing Emmett Till’s mutilated body wouldn’t move you after he was murdered for whistling at a White woman…and his murderers were acquitted.

He was a kid. A kid.

Tamir Rice was a kid.

Trayvon was a kid.

Aiyana was a kid.

The story of 4 little girls from Birmingham, Alabama who were murdered after a church was bombed by an angry White mob doesn’t move you to tears.

A white man walking into a church and murdering Black worshippers doesn’t move you…the decedent’s family’s forgiveness moves you.

Botham Jean being murdered in his own apartment doesn’t move you…his brother’s forgiveness of Botham’s murderer moves you.

A difference in perspective is what caused me and a lifelong friend to never reconcile, and unfortunately I will never ever get the chance to…but even in our difference of opinion, I would never call him a disgrace because I care more about the message of equity and unity than calling him anything other than “brother” or “friend”.

People become strangely patriotic when Americans die in combat overseas, but say nothing when Americans die at the hands of domestic terrorists.

I was shamed and made to believe that I feed into the liberal trash being broadcasted by the media and that I’m a race-baiter who is the lowest of the low for spreading divisive rhetoric…but to me, the lowest of the low are people who claim to love this country, but do nothing to speak out against injustices just because the hue of another person’s skin must obviously warrant some of that treatment.

If you ask me, THAT isn’t very patriotic at all. If America stands for liberty and justice for ALL…you better start offering up that same energy at the dinner table and at your churches because I guarantee you…the hatred that so many accuse me and others of spreading is a lot closer to your homes than you even realize.

…but I’m not so naive to the fact that many of you actually know that.

Why is it sadder and more appropriate to mourn the death of someone who gave their all for this country than someone who did their best to just stay alive IN this country?

Stories of fathers-to-be tug at heartstrings…but what about Elijah? He wanted to be somebody. Aiyana wanted to be somebody?

Tamir…he wanted to be somebody.

Trayvon could’ve been somebody.

Addie May wanted to be somebody.

Little Carol wanted to be somebody.

Little Cynthia wanted to be somebody.

Little Carole wanted to be somebody.

Emmett wanted to be somebody.

They all had dreams…didn’t they? Didn’t they dream the dream you quote “MLK” for dreaming?

Or is his dream only relevant when combatting people fighting for equity?

If you’re going to call someone who sit or kneels during the Pledge of Allegiance a disgrace…

You’d better offer that same energy to those who disgrace their badge and uniform when they take another Black life without flinching.

Why isn’t Brian Encina a disgrace? A man couldn’t control his ego long enough to just give Sandra Bland a ticket and keep it moving…he had to exercise his dominance and put her in her place…now she no longer exists.

…but he’s human just like us, right?

So what was Sandra Bland?

The officer who murdered Philando Castile, a licensed gun owner in the car with his partner and child made a simple mistake, right? Sometimes it just happens….but Eric Garner panicking and struggling to breathe was resisting arrest. He wasn’t only human. Mike Brown wasn’t only human. Walter Scott wasn’t only human. Ahmaud Arbery wasn’t only human.

Chiiiile…y’all out here being situationally patriotic. You might stand for the flag, but you got your back turned on your fellow citizens who were trying to do every day things like run to the corner store, leave from their brand new job, lay down in their bed and rest, walk around in their apartment, walk around in their home, BE A KID, BE A KID, BE A KID…

[lavenderlucy]

Untitled 4x9 AU part 2

The plot bunny in my mind isn’t quiet finished yet. Here’s the second part to my very first piece Untitled 4x9 AU (I’m terrible at coming up with titles). This one has more angst than the last, but I will be making up for it with a third and final part coming soon. Thanks for reading!

Part 1 is here

Caroline was surprised to see a police car in Tyler’s driveway when she arrived early that morning. After spending a sleepless night battling her conflicting emotions about the night before she decided to check on Tyler before she made her way back to the cellar. She assumed he had already run from Mystic Falls after his plan to take down Klaus had failed, but she hadn’t heard anything from him since before Hayley snapped her neck in the Grille. She parked her car and got out just as the front door to the Lockwood manor opened to reveal two of her mother’s deputies leaving the house with grim expressions on their faces.

“Officer Sanders?” Caroline questioned one of them, “what’s going on?” She couldn’t help the nervousness seeping through her tone. Last night’s massacre must have already been discovered. She wondered how the Sheriff’s department was going to cover this one up. A few “animal attacks” were one thing, but 12 dead and dismembered hybrids on the Mayor’s lawn were another.

“I’m sorry, Caroline. This will be public by tomorrow, but I can’t discuss an active investigation. Tyler is inside. He can tell you.” Officer Sanders and the other deputy walked passed her and made their way to their car.

Caroline was surprised that Tyler was still in Mystic Falls. She walked through the door to the manor, worry clouding her mind. If Klaus found out Tyler was still in town there would be nothing stopping him from coming over here and killing him. She heard the sound of a sigh, Tyler’s, coming from the sitting room. As she walked down the main hall and turned to enter the room she smelled liquor and tears. She could feel the heavy feeling of grief all around her. She found Tyler sitting on a sofa with his head in one hand and a tumbler of what looked like scotch in the other.

“Tyler?” She questioned as she moved towards him. He looked wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot. His shoulders slumped. Caroline vaguely wondered if Carol was home. She made her distaste at seeing her son drink while he was technically still underage clear.

“Tyler?” She tried again. Finally he looked up at her. The broken look on his face gnawed at her heart.

“Care...” he tried to continue but a pained sob left his lips instead. Caroline flashed forward and stopped just a few inches from him.

“Tyler I’m so sorry. I tried to stop him, but I was too late. They were dead by the time I got there. I’m so so sorry.” Caroline finally felt the grief she had been putting off for the 12 hybrids. The reality of what Klaus had done was setting in. Tears threatened to spill over. For Tyler and his friends and for the friendship that had been tentatively building between her and Klaus. There’s no way she could feel anything for the man that slaughtered his own pack so willingly she thought to herself. A lie, her mind told her, but now was not the time to dwell on that.

“What are you- you don’t know, do you?” Tyler’s voice interrupted her thoughts and brought her back to the present.

“Don’t know what?” Caroline questioned. Dread suddenly filled her.

“After Klaus murdered the others he came here and he...” Tyler trailed off and a look a pure rage took over his features.

“What did he do, Tyler?” She asked afraid of the answer.

“He killed her!” Tyler shouted, standing suddenly making Caroline stumble a few steps backward. “He killed my mom to get back at me. That sick fucker came here and drowned her in the fountain.” He swallowed the remainder of his drink, the crystal tumbler still clutched in his hand.

Tyler was seething. He never had great control over the beast inside him and it was evident in the way his wolf pressed against his skin now. His eyes were gold and veins trailed from his eyes down to his cheek bones.

“What?” Any color that Caroline had in her pale features left her suddenly. She felt as though her knees would not continue to support her.

“HE KILLED HER!” Tyler screamed. The glass in his hand was suddenly shattering into pieces against the wall behind Caroline.

“I’m so sorry, Tyler. I had no idea. I tried to stop it, but Hayley got to me before I could. That bitch snapped my neck. I told you this whole thing was a bad idea. I’m so s-“ Caroline started but Tyler interrupted her before she could finish.

“Seriously, Care? You told me so? My mother and my pack are fucking dead and that’s your response?” Tyler took a step towards Caroline, his eyes still golden and enraged.

“That’s n-not what I m-meant,” Caroline stammered. “I’m so sorry, Tyler. That’s not what I meant.” Her foot was firmly in her mouth. Her tendency to say the wrong thing reared it’s ugly head.

Tears spilled down her cheeks now. She reached for Tyler to wrap him in a hug, but he stepped away from her. Caroline felt the sting of rejection.

“You should leave. I have things to handle with the police and my mother’s,” Tyler cleared his throat, “my lawyers.” His wolf receded from his face and he now looked like it was taking all of his strength just to remain standing.

“Tyler, you shouldn’t be alone. Why didn’t you call me last night? I’m here for you. Let me help,” Caroline pleaded. She stayed where she was even though all she wanted to do was wrap Tyler in her arms and comfort him. Even though their relationship had been slowly falling apart in the past few weeks, or months if she was being honest, she still cared for the boy in front of her. The boy who was now an orphan.

“Just go, Caroline. I don’t need you. I need to find Hay-.” He stopped talking and his jaw clicked shut. He looked like hadn’t meant to mention the girl that betrayed him and his friends, who had snapped his supposed girlfriend’s neck.

“Hayley? You need to find Hayley?” Caroline’s voice became louder and full of anger. “That backstabbing bitch sold you and your pack out to Klaus. I found out last night right before she snapped my neck and left me on the floor of the bathroom in the Grille. I was trying to stop her and save you all, Tyler. Klaus wouldn’t have had an advantage had she not run to him and told him the whole plan. Maybe he wouldn’t have killed them if we tired to reason with him. He probably felt cornered so he lashed out.” Caroline knew mentioning Klaus right now was a terrible idea, but Tyler had to realize that Hayley betrayed him.

“So now you’re defending Klaus?” Tyler’s anger returned in full force. “That’s really nice, Caroline. You’re defending the bastard that killed my pack and my mother not even a full day ago.” Tyler’s eyes started to bleed gold.

“I’m not defending him! Hayley betrayed you. This whole mess is her fault! I saw Klaus last night and-“ She wasn’t able to finish her sentence before Tyler flashed in front of her, his face just inches from hers.

“You saw him last night?” His voice was quiet and accusatory. Caroline could feel his anger radiating from his body.

“Yes. I was looking for you,” she began evenly, hoping to calm him down. “I was worried about you. I found him out in the cellar. We only talked for a couple of minutes and then he left.”

“Let me guess, you batted your eyes and he let you go,” Tyler sneered. “Typical Caroline, flirting with monsters to make herself feel better.” The look he was giving her was one of pure disgust.

“No! I mean yes, he left without hurting me, but I didn’t bat anything at him, Tyler, and I certainly didn’t flirt with him!” Caroline was becoming annoyed. Tyler was grieving, but that wasn’t an excuse to speak to her that way.

Tyler and Caroline were silent for several long moments. Their annoyance with each other hung between them. Caroline’s thoughts drifted to Klaus without her permission. He had let her go last night. He could have killed her in a second with no effort and he had let her live. He had been so gentle when he pressed his lips to her mouth and cheek, like he was scared she might break. It was hard for Caroline to reconcile the broken man last night with the man who murdered Tyler’s mother just minutes after nearly kissing her. Klaus was a monster, yes, but weren’t they all? Hadn’t they all killed to protect themselves or their loved ones? Hell, hadn’t they all killed for no reason at all other than they lost control? How many times did Tyler expect he could provoke Klaus before he lashed out?

“Tyler...” Caroline didn’t know what to say to him. She wiped her tears from her face with the back of her hand and took a breath to ground herself.

“Go, Caroline. Just go. Please.” Tyler looked like he was going break down. Caroline had barely taken a half step toward him when his eyes flashed yellow and his fangs emerged from his gums.

“GO!” He shouted.

Caroline knew in that moment that they were over. He would rather look for the bitch that had sold out his pack and almost gotten him killed instead of be in the same room as her. She knew it was selfish to think this way when his grief was still fresh, but she didn’t care. Her fear that he had been cheating on her didn’t seem so far fetched after all. Their show at the pageant just a short while ago didn’t seem so much like a ruse now. Tyler clearly had feelings for Hayley if he still wanted to find her after all of this. She met his eyes and tried to convey something, anything to make him see she wasn’t the bad guy here. His glare was still full of rage so she turned and flashed out of the house.

Once she was in her car Caroline felt anger rush through her. How dare Tyler choose the girl that betrayed him and his friends over her? How dare he accuse her of flirting with Klaus? How dare he dismiss her? Caroline needed an outlet for her anger. She knew she would get nowhere with Tyler today so her mind settled on Klaus. How dare Klaus make her care for him despite everything that he is and then murder his hybrids? How dare he give her jewelry and romantic drawings and then drown Tyler’s mother? Caroline’s anger quickly turned to rage and she sped out of Tyler’s driveway toward the Mikaelson mansion.

Her car was barely in park before she whipped open her door and stalked up to Klaus’s front door, her blonde curls bouncing with each step.

“Klaus!” She shouted while banging her fist on the door. After a minute with no answer she banged louder. “Come out here you unbelievable bastard!” She was about to start yelling louder when the door was suddenly ripped open and an enraged looking Klaus stood in the doorway, eyes flashing gold. The sleeves of his dark gray henley were pushed up to his elbows and Caroline could see small flecks of paint on his hands. Klaus opened his mouth to growl something at her, but Caroline beat him to it.

“How could you? How could you be such a monster?” She shouted, her hands shaking with rage, as she took a step up towards him.

Klaus’s eyes narrowed and he stepped out of the doorway to meet her on the top step of his porch.

“How could I?” He gritted out between clenched teeth. “How could I kill the mutts that Lockwood and his little friend unsired and turned against me? HOW COULD I?” He raised his voice louder until he was shouting at Caroline.

Caroline opened her mouth to speak again, but this time Klaus interrupted her.

“Or are you talking about his mother? She was a fighter you know. She fought until her very last second, desperate for air.” He taunted with a wicked smirk on his lips, eyes sharp. Caroline gasped, shocked at the way he spoke so casually about killing Carol.

“He took EVERYTHING from me,” Klaus spat. “It’s only fair I finally take something from him. You lot have been trying to kill me since I returned to this infernal town and now you’re shocked that I exacted my revenge. You called me a monster, love. This is what monsters do.”

“Carol was innocent! She didn’t deserve to be a part of your twisted game! God, I don’t know why I ever gave you even a second of my time. You’re clearly not worth it!” Caroline shouted back at him. Had she been in a more rational state of mind she would have been almost afraid to shout at the man who just murdered 13 people, but her heightened emotions clouded her judgement.

Klaus’s features turned darker and before Caroline could blink he pulled her across the threshold by her upper arms and slammed her against the wall of his lavish foyer, the plaster cracking around her. The breath left Caroline’s lungs and her eyes widened as she took in his golden eyes and double fangs. She realized how stupid she had been to come here and pick a fight with Klaus. She let out a pained cry as she felt her ribs and spine protest. She was pretty sure something was fractured at the very least. Klaus grip loosened infinitesimally until he saw tears form in her blue eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks.

Klaus removed his hands from Caroline’s arms and took several steps back from her. Something that looked almost like regret for his rough treatment of her flashed across his face. Caroline slid slightly down the wall before she locked her knees and caught herself. There was no way she was going to give Klaus the satisfaction of seeing her fall.

A moment passed and Klaus slowly moved forward with a grace that only came with age until he was close enough to touch her. He slowly lifted his hands so he didn’t frighten her and once more gripped her upper arms. Instead of bruising his touch was soft yet firm. He helped Caroline to stand up straight and held her there while her bones fused themselves back together. A single tear escaped and made its way down her face. Before it could reach her jaw Klaus moved one hand to cradle the side her face and brushed the tear away with his thumb. Caroline moved her free arm and grasped Klaus’s wrist with hesitant fingers. She hadn’t meant to touch him, but her body acted on its own accord. She could feel his slow pulse and his warm skin beneath her fingers. She could smell the blood running through his veins. The two of them stood there unmoving and staring at each other for several long minutes. Regret clouded Klaus’s face. Caroline wondered how many times in his long life he’d ever been sorry for anything he’d done.

“Not many,” Klaus answered softly, “but I find myself making exceptions for you, Caroline.”

Caroline realized she’d spoken out loud and blushed slightly. Klaus moved his thumb over the light pink on her cheek, looking as though he was fascinated by the color. She knew she shouldn’t be so comfortable in Klaus’s embrace, especially after she had seen Tyler’s grief stricken face earlier. She shouldn’t be so comfortable with a murderer’s touch, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Something in Klaus’s touch ignited something in her that she had never felt before. A feeling of completeness. A feeling that someone truly cared for her. A feeling that she was finally enough.

[dontshootmespence]

Altered Reality

A/N: An anon request where Emily is found to be alive after all, but she has a teenage daughter who thought she was dead. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn

                                                               ----

JJ hated keeping this secret, but she’d promised Emily - and she loved Beatrice as much as her own son. The good thing was Doyle had been captured, so Emily could finally come home and see her daughter again, but Beatrice was 15, headstrong and passionate just like her mother, and had been crying for the last seven months thinking her mother was dead.

The only two people who were allowed to know were she and Hotch - not even Emily’s own child could know where she was, or that she was even still alive for fear of Doyle coming out of the shadows and hurting either one of them, or Declan. Since Emily had gone into witness protection, JJ had been raising Bea, teaching her at home so that she never had to be out of her sight. “Ready to go, Bea?” she asked, watching as the sullen teenager flashed her a strained smile. 

“Yea, Aunt JJ,” she said softly. Today was seven and a half months since her mother had “died.” JJ had been wracked with guilt every minute of every day for keeping the biggest of secrets from her niece, but she had to, for both of their sakes. 

Nearly a hour half later, JJ and Bea made their way into the Bureau with coffees in hand, but JJ hadn’t even taken a sip of hers. The nausea was too strong. Even smelling the coffee was making her insides spin around and tie themselves in knots. So far, the only one in the office was Hotch, who made strained eye contact with JJ. Both were aware that the blow-up was imminent, not only from Bea, but from the rest of the team as well. They knew they’d done what had to be done, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Okay, everyone,” Hotch said, feeling his own stomach lurch at the reality of what he was about to do. “I need you all to know that about eight months back, I made a decision that affected the entire team. It was a need-to-know basis, so the only ones aware were JJ and myself. However, if anyone has any issues, please come to me.” 

Looking down at the floor, Bea watched as a shadow crept its way up the doorway, coming closer and closer until the shadow finally meet the person casting it. “Mom?” Bea breathed. Everyone looked between Hotch, JJ and Emily, trying to comprehend what they were seeing. “We buried you...I...I BURIED YOU!” Beatrice yelled between staggering breaths, covering her mouth as a waterfall of tears cascaded from her eyes. How could she?

“I’m so sorry,” she said, standing still in the doorway, hesitant to approach anyone for fear they hated her. One by one, Garcia, Reid, Rossi and Morgan hugged her in varying degrees of relief, betrayal, sadness and glee, and then she turned toward her daughter. Each woman wore matching looks of sorrow, but behind Beatrice’s eyes was a layer of betrayal the likes of which Emily had never hoped to see. Being away from the love of her life for the past eight months had been absolute hell, each day wearing on in slow motion. The only thing that had given her any solace was the fact that JJ loved her like her own and had sworn to protect her with her life. “Bea, baby, I’m so sorry.” With a few steps, she closed the space between them and extended her arms, but Bea backed up.

“I buried you. I watched your casket get lowered into the ground. I’ve cried for the last seven months thinking I’d never see you again or get to hug you, AND YOU’RE ALIVE?!” The anger rose in her face, now red as a cherry. Her head was spinning with the reality that everything she thought she knew was a lie.

Emily started shaking, the tears spilling over slightly as she tried to tell her daughter why certain choices had been made. “With me dead, Doyle wouldn’t go after you or Declan. But if I was alive, you were both in danger. I left because I love you more than anything.”

Again, she tried to close the gap, but Bea wasn’t having it, and it was breaking Emily’s heart into smaller and smaller pieces. “I’m 15. I understand your job. I could’ve kept the secret, but instead you chose to leave me and lie to me. I would’ve rather Doyle come after me than go on living thinking I was never gonna see my mother again! How dare you!” All was silent in the conference room, the other members of the team not wanting to intervene in a family moment. 

“Bea, I-”

“Don’t!” Her hands curled up into fists. She had no idea what to do, where to go, nothing - everything felt surreal. “I don’t wanna hear any excuses. You let me think you were dead. Fuck you!” She turned to walk out the door and caught the eyes of the other two who knew. “And fuck you! And you, Aunt JJ! I was sobbing every day and you watched! You watched as I was doubled over in pain, throwing up in the sink because I was never going to see my mother again and you knew...Oh my god.” 

Spinning around on her heels, she approached the doorway where her mother had reemerged and when her mother tried to follow, she turned around, picked up the nearest item that wasn’t nailed down and hurled it at the wall, watching as it burst into a thousand pieces before leaving everyone behind. “Oh my god,” Emily sobbed, crouching down to the floor. “My baby hates me. Oh my god.”

JJ couldn’t say anything. Even Hotch, normally so calm under pressure, couldn’t manage to come up with anything. “Reid, will you?”

Knowing what she meant, Spencer sped after her. Emily couldn’t go near her right now and neither could JJ or Hotch, so someone else needed to take care of her. This was the way things had to be done, but would her baby girl ever forgive her?

                                                              ----

“Bea!” Spencer called for the third time. She spun around and he barely dodged her arms as they flailed wildly in anger. 

Upon seeing her uncle, her anger was lost and the sadness set in. “How could she do that to me? To us? We would’ve kept her secret. She couldn’t trust us? Me. Why didn’t she trust me, Uncle Spencer?” He knew he was supposed to see that this was the way things had to be, but he couldn’t reconcile what had happened months ago and just now either, so instead, he held his niece tightly as she sobbed. 

After rocking her back and forth for 15 minutes, Bea felt numb. “I can’t go home with JJ, or Mom. Do you mind if I stay with you for a couple of days?”

Spencer nodded, giving her hand a squeeze before kissing the raven hair that so reminded him of her mother. “Of course. You know she loves you, right?”

“I don’t know anything anymore.”

                                                             ----

A week and a half passed before Bea could find the strength to talk to anyone. Every day, she’d just get up and do her lessons for the day. She ignored everyone and everything, just floating from place to place with her anger bottled up inside her. As she paced the floors of her uncle’s apartment, she heard the door creak open. “I’m sorry,” Spencer said, as Emily pushed out from behind him.

“Go away!” she screamed.

“No!” Emily replied. “Talk to me.” Quietly, Spencer slipped out of his own apartment to leave them alone. “Yell. Scream. Cry. Tell me you hate me. Something! Just talk to me please!” Her voice cracked as the floodgates opened.

A sob wracked through Bea’s body as she hugged her sweatshirt tighter to her body. “Why couldn’t you trust me? You could’ve told me. I wouldn’t have said anything, but you let me grieve, Mom. You let me watch your casket go into the ground.” She started to shake with anger and took a deep breath. 

Emily inhaled hard, holding her breath without realizing it. “It wasn’t about trust baby,” she breathed. The thought that Bea thought otherwise broke her heart. “Doyle had to believe that I was gone. If anyone else had known, he would’ve seen in your faces that I was alive, and he would’ve hurt you to bring me out of hiding. I had to leave until he was gone.”

The feeling of understanding and yet not understanding was a hard emotion to reconcile. “But you died...I watched you die, Mom!” Collapsing forward, Emily caught her baby girl as she sobbed, trying to figure out how the woman she called mom had died eight months earlier and reappeared. Considering Emily’s own life hadn’t made sense for the last eight months, she couldn’t imagine how her daughter felt. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry. If I had stayed, he would’ve tortured you, and if anything ever happened to you, I would never have been able to forgive myself,” she said, rubbing her baby’s back as she cried. Bea was going to be mad at her - for a long time; she could feel it. But holding her while she cried was enough for her right now. She was hugging her. In the months she’d been gone, she’d grown so much. She was real and she was here. For now, that was enough.

[lassofthelake]

If You’ll Have Me, Chapter 3

A Hawke/Lavellan fic in which two of Thedas’ heroes lean on one another as they struggle to the save the world from Corypheus, heal from past wounds and learn to love again.

Pairing: Hawke x Lavellan

Rating: T

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Revelations

Hakwe stood at the edge of their campsite in the Hinterlands, leaning against a tree and watching Valena with her children. The past couple months had been hard. The Inquisitor hadn't dared to bring her children to the Western Approach, which Hawke could understand. It was hardly a suitable environment for people at all - add in the Venatori and possessed Wardens and leaving them behind made total sense. It hurt her to do it, though, and seeing what was happening to the Warden mages had affected Valena. She'd been sullen and kept to herself, watching the mages being forced into a ritual that stripped them of both humanity and freewill disturbing her greatly. Hawke managed a few tired smiles as they'd returned to the hold, but it was like only a piece of her was present.

Matters had only worsened when they went back to Skyhold to find Miriel angry and defiant. Valena had never been gone so long before and the girl had taken it badly, despite constant reassurance that her mother would be back and she'd left her behind for her own good. Balor had been plenty happy to see his Mamae, but was clearly stressed out by Miri's anger and distance and cried more and demanded more attention from his mother as a result, wearing Valena's already fragile nerves further.

Hawke still remembered a particularly bad argument between mother and daughter.

Valena had gone to brush her fingers through Miri's strawberry blonde locks, as was her way, but when Miri had realized who was touching her, she'd become furious and slapped Valena's hand away with a hateful look. "Don't touch me!" the little girl had snarled. "I hate you!"

The red-haired elf flinched so violently, an onlooker might have thought that some invisible force had struck her across the face. Valena let her hand drop. "Miri," she entreated gently, "I know you're angry with me but I'm still your Mamae and you need to show me respect-"

"YOU ARE NOT MY MAMAE!" the little girl had screamed, eyes closing with the effort it took to raise her voice to such a volume, her tiny fists clenching at her sides. Her face had gone beat red. When she opened her green eyes, an exact mirror of her mother's they were filled with tears. "My mamae wouldn't have left me for so long," she'd finished, anger fading into devastation and sadness. Her fists unclenched and she'd buried her face in her hands and ran off sobbing, slamming the door to Josie's office behind her.

Valena helplessly reached for her daughter, but was rooted to the spot, unable to follow. The others who'd been present carefully avoided eye contact. Hawke had been the one to lead her from the main hall, away from the others who'd witnessed her daughter's tantrum. Miri's feelings were understandable, but seeing Valena this way - pale, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, features so blank she seemed a mere shell of herself - made Hawke feel worse for her mother.

Valena had silently held his hand as he talked to her for hours. Occasionally, a tear would silently fall from her eye and slide down her cheek. The first time, Hawke had reached out and tried to brush away her tears with the pads of his thumb like she'd done for him back at the cave, but she'd shied from any touch that wasn't his hand on hers, so he gave up and let the tear drops stain her tunic. Eventually, someone had come by with news of Balor asking for her, wanting a bed time story and to be tucked in, and that seemed to bring her back to herself - for the most part. The elf had shot Hawke a sad smile before she left and uttered a soft, "Thank you," and then disappeared up into her quarters for the evening.

Thankfully, Miri came around and forgave her mother. It had taken almost a week and a few outbursts, but, eventually, the girl realized she was more happy to have her mamae home than she was angry with her for leaving and the two had reconciled. Thereafter, Valena had become much more like herself again

Now she sat in a bright little patch of grass with Balor in her lap and Miri sitting beside her. Balor was leaning back against his mother contentedly with his eyes closed against the sun. His mother and sister were busy weaving flower crowns. Miri already wore a pink and white crown on her head and she kept attempting to fashion one for Valena, only for it to fall apart before she could present it to her mamae. Hawke couldn't hear from this distance, but it looked like Valena was gently directing the increasingly frustrated five-year old as she weaved a crown with dark red flowers. The dark red crown, Hawke had overhead Miri say when they were picking the flowers, was for Cassandra, who was busy sparring with the Bull at the other end of the camp. Hawke was sure that the warrior would be delighted when the little elf girl presented her with the gift.

Finally, Miri exclaimed in triumph as she finished the crown, interspersed with blue flowers and white roses. Valena smiled, accepting the crown from her daughter and proudly positioning it on her own head. It wasn't as neat looking as the one Valena had placed on Miri's head, nor the one Valena was working on for Cassandra, but it still suited the elfin woman well. The white roses brought out the white of her vallaslin beautifully.

Hawke was entirely mesmerized as she giggled at something her daughter said, her whole face radiant with joy.

Gregory was so mesmerized, in fact, that he didn't hear it when the dwarf sidled up next to him. "So," the story-teller hedged, making Hawke jump at the sudden intrusion and whirl to look down at him, "you're sweet on the Inquisitor, are you?" Varric wore his usual cocky grin, an eyebrow raised knowingly at his best and oldest friend.

The human man's eyes bugged and heat rose to his cheeks. "N-no!" he stuttered, practically tripping over himself to deny the accusation. "I-I just think she's admirable- A great leader!"

Varric rolled his eyes, looking like he'd never heard a bigger pile of horseshit in his entire life. "Yeah, sure," the dwarf replied dryly, "and I'm the Black Divine."

Hawke did not like how this conversation was turning out. His blush and his stutter were entirely betraying him. What happened to the practiced liar that traipsed through Kirkwall on the daily, a wanted apostate but nigh untouchable, even before he'd earned his champion status? Hawke used to bluff Templars, smugglers and other low lives without breaking a sweat. One accusation from his best friend about having feelings for the Inquisitor and he fell to pieces. The mage hated that, so so much. What was even worse, Varric would have known he was lying, even if he wasn't stuttering and blushing because he couldn't ever lie to his best buddy. Gregory sighed deeply, rubbing at his face. "Well, I wouldn't say I'm sweet on her, exactly," the taller man hemmed.

Varric's lips twitched a fraction upwards. "Oh, yeah? Then what would you call staring at her like that?" he inquired, almost blase.

"Like what?" Hawke shot back.

Varric chuckled. "Like she's the most magical woman you've ever laid eyes on."

"Well, to be fair, she is," Hawke joked with a little noncommittal shrug. Not only was the elvhen woman a mage but she also possessed the anchor, arguably making her the most magical person in all of Thedas.

The dwarf narrowed his eyes at his best friend. "You know what I mean."

Hawke did know what he meant, unfortunately. He'd very recently come to the same conclusion and hadn't been ready to admit it out loud just yet. But of course, Varric knew. Varric knew him better than his own brother did. Varric had also been there last time he'd been smitten... and seen it go horribly south. "It's complicated," Hawke finally admitted.

"Only if you make it complicated," Varric argued. He paused and sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck before continuing in a more subdued tone, "Me and Bianca, we're complicated. Valena's a widow and, to my knowledge, you haven't been involved with anyone since... since Rivaini took off." A wry smile crossed Varric's face. "Not to mention, her family doesn't send assassins every time you so much as visit her. So if it's complicated, it's only because you're making it complicated."

Hawke frowned at Varric, thinking that was a gross oversimplification, but inwardly, he was pleased that the memory of Isabela leaving didn't rip a fresh hole in his heart and the old wound only gave a little throb. Still, though, Varric was wrong. The issue of his feelings for Valena was complicated. He was about to bring up the elephant in the room, and that was the fact that she had children that she'd always put first, but he stopped himself, realizing that he actually didn't mind that. Hawke really liked being around her kids. They were intelligent, funny and sweet little kids and Hawke was a grown man - he didn't need his partner's world to revolve around him. Valena putting her children first was appealing, even. So instead, he said, "I don't think she feels the same."

That actually seemed to give the dwarf pause, which was rare. Still, Varric recovered after only a moment and gave his best friend a shove. "Well, sitting around guessing at the answers was never your forte. Time to get off your ass, Champion of Kirkwall, and find out for yourself."

Varric had a point, Hawke had to concede. Still, he wasn't about to go confessing to her until he was more certain of his own feelings and until he was more certain of hers. "I think I will," Hawke replied.

Varric left Hawke alone not long after to go talk to Scout Harding. Hawke filed that info away in the back of his head to possibly tease his buddy over later. After all, turn about's fair play and all that. Still, though, the conversation with Varric had left Hawke a lot to think about as he turned back around to observe Valena and her children. The flower crown with the dark red flowers had been set aside and Miri was twisting little tiny white flowers into her mom's hair on one side and Balor had joined in, trying to do the same on the other side, though Hawke noticed that most of the flowers fluttered right back out of her deep red tresses. Valena's face glowed with happiness, tilting her head this way and that to give her children equal access to her hair.

Eventually, Balor got up and ran over to Iron Bull, wanting to ride on his shoulders and Valena must have decided there were enough of the little blossoms in her hair since she handed the flower crown that had been set to the side to Miri and pointed in Cassandra's general direction.

Miri grinned broadly and took off, little feet pounding against the ground and kicking up the hem of her dress as Valena slowly picked herself up off the ground, stretching languidly. Hawke backed away, pretending to examine the requisitions table so as not to be caught staring. He heard, rather than saw Valena approach, only looking up when she gently laid a hand on his forearm. He looked up, surprised, and his breath was taken away. With the little white buds twisted in her fiery red hair around her face and the flowers adorning her like an ethereal queen of the forest, she was more beautiful than he'd ever seen.

"You've been studying the requisitions hard," she noted lightly, a relaxed smile stretching her lips. "Have we collected anything worth being sent back yet?"

"Wha?" Hawke breathed, still dazed by her beauty for a second before he shook himself and exclaimed, "Oh." The mage hurriedly scanned the table, looking for answers. "Er, yes. We've collected a good amount of elfroot which is good for potions."

She didn't reply, her green eyes roving over him slowly. Hawke panicked, fearing she may have noticed that he'd been staring at her all this time, but then she just ran her fingers along his forearm in a soothing caress. "You've been going over this for a while now. Be sure to take a break. You wouldn't want to become overtired."

Before Hawke could do more than breathe a mental sigh of relief, a startled voice rang out, catching both mages attention. Cassandra had clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Oh, Miri!" she exclaimed in her heavy Nevarran accent. "I love it!" The woman gratefully accepted the flower crown and immediately placed it on her head. It looked a little odd on the normally austere, brass tacks woman, but it also accented the glow of her beaming face. Hawke had never seen the woman quite so happy as she scooped the little girl up for a hug. Miri giggled gaily where she was pressed against Cassandra's chest, wrapping her arms as far around the woman as her 5 year old arms could manage.

Hawke leaned in towards Valena, softly murmuring, "You've got a good kid."

"I do, don't I?"

Hawke jerked his head over at Balor, who was sitting on Bull's shoulders and gripping onto his horns as the Qunari bucked around, pretending he was trying to throw the little boy. "Two, even."

Her smile grew a touch sad. "Yeah," she breathed, "guess I do."

Hawke wanted to ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue for months now. It burned in his throat, begging to jump out and sate his curiosity. Why did Miri look like a blonde clone of her where Balor barely resembled her at all? Was it merely that Balor took after her late husband and that was why she sometimes grew a trifle sad when she looked at the little boy? Or was there another explanation? Another thing that nagged at him was Miri's lack of elven ears. He knew this wasn't the time, though. He threw an arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick, one armed squeeze. It was only meant to be a comforting gesture on his part, but he couldn't help briefly burying his nose in her hair and breathing in. Her hair still carried a hint of the scented soap she had at the hold but the heady scent of the earth clung to her, too, with just a touch of sweat. His chest filled with warmth and he was sad when he had to let her go, wanting to linger there longer.

Valena smiled up at him gratefully before walking away to go pluck Balor off of the Bull's back and declare that it was time for supper. The two kids whined, disappointed that their fun had been interrupted, but scampered off towards where the soldier was making stew out of a ram they'd poached earlier, some found herbs - Valena was an absolute expert in discerning herbs and knew which ones went best with what dishes - and some vegetables they'd bought off some nearby farmers.

Gregory joined them but couldn't seem to help the way his eyes skittered towards the Inquisitor for the rest of the evening. In all the time he'd known her, he didn't think he'd ever seen her so carefree or happy. He also couldn't help the blush that crept up his neck when Varric caught him and threw him suggestive looks.

Damn that dwarf. This was going to go in one of his books one day, Hawke could feel it in his bones.

Hawke could only hope it would end up as an epic or a love story and not as a tragedy.

Sweat ran down Valena's neck as she fired spell after spell, feeling her energy draining an increment each time she did so. She was already bone tired and would have fallen to the floor if not for the mana potions she kept downing like they were the elixir of life. She was spattered with blood, but none of it was her's, thankfully. She'd blasted a group of hurlock at close range and the result had been a rain of ichor. It smelled foul, as one might expect, but she ignored it.

A few feet away from her, Varric was firing Bianca as fast as he could manage, springing away when one of the enemies got too close. Valena let a fire spell loose on the dwarf's attacker, burning the darkspawn alive. It gave a horrible, inhuman scream before it fell to the floor of the cave they were in, smoldering. Valena attempted a rejuvenation spell on Varric, who was beginning to look a little worse for wear himself, but felt her magic stutter and falter, her reserves being too low to finish the spell. Breathing heavily, she popped another blue flask from her belt and downed it, smashing it when she was through.

She noticed Bull fall a way off, his Reaver specialization a blessing and a curse, unfortunately. The liquid in the flask worked quickly, filling her with energy and she began to cast a revival on the large warrior, simultaneously sending out barriers to the rest of her companions. Healing and defensive magic had always been her specialties, after all.

The Inquisitor was relieved to see Bull picking himself up off the floor a moment later and even managing to catch sight of one of his larger wounds healing before her eyes, the power of her spell knitting the skin back together in a neat line. He resumed his place in the fray, beheading three genlock in a single sweep.

A quick glance over in Blackwall's direction said he was still doing alright. He'd sustained a cut on his cheek that was weeping dark blood, but seemed otherwise in good shape. Valena was looking for the former Champion when Gregory shouted, "Valena, to your left!"

Without thinking, the mage struck out blindly to the left with her staff and sent an electric bolt through it, seeking whatever Hawke was trying to warn her about. The darkspawn had been closer than she anticipated, she found, when her staff was unable to even finish its arc and the crystal at the top embedded in the putrid creatures throat, effectively shredding its neck and frying it on the inside as the bolt took its course, moving from the crystal into the creature's body. The smell of burnt, rotten meat filled the air and with a disgusted grimace, the mage managed to dislodge her staff from the dead creature. It fell to the ground, still sizzling and twitching but definitely dead.

The brush with mortality spurred her on. The darkspawn had been right up on her. If Hawke hadn't shouted that warning when he did, she surely would have died. Valena dropped her ichor coated staff for a moment and centered herself on the ground in a wide stance, gathering all of her energy. "Everybody MOVE!" she screamed as a pillar of flame shot up from the ground like a beacon.

"Now that's what I'm talking about, Boss!" Iron Bull exclaimed exuberantly, falling back as he did.

When both of the warriors were out of range, however, the darkspawn tried to follow. "Oh no you don't!" Valena snarled, whipping both hands outward and causing the pillar to spread with the gesture. It became more than just a wall of fire, spreading in every direction. Distorted screams rose from the blaze as darkspawn were burned alive. When the fire died, only a few darkspawn had managed to escape the inferno where they had been overrun before. The two warriors and Varric chased after what little remained to dispatch them quickly.

Valena sagged then, her knees giving out. It felt like all the breath had gone out of her lungs and all her muscles had atrophied with the great effort it had taken her to cast such an incredible fire spell. Hawke fell to his knees beside her, managing to grab her before she slumped all the way into the dirt and brought her down gently to lay her head in his lap. Her eyes drooped as she looked up at him, beyond exhausted. "Heeeey, Hawke," she greeted, her voice coming out light and airy and she didn't seem fully present. "Awesome fire spell, huh?"

Gregory smiled down at the Inquisitor, brushing her sweaty and blood soaked hair away from her face. "Would have been better if it didn't render you useless afterward," he teased.

Valena whined, attempting to smack at his hand, but unable to with the paralyzing effect of depleting all of her mana. "I'd like to see you do better," she challenged, though it lacked any real vigor, adjusting her head in his lap. Her green eyes, already hooded from exhaustion, drooped further until they were almost closed. "Grey," she said, sleep heavy in her voice, "can you be in charge while I take a..." she paused and yawned, "... nap?"

A little thrill went through him at the use of his nickname but he squashed it, taking care of her being of far more importance. He slowly pulled two little flasks from his belt. "Yeah, I can do that.. after you take a little sip of both of these." He used his teeth to remove the corks and spat them out off to the side.

Valena groaned, obviously already on her way to a comatose state, but complied. Gregory supported her head, tipping first the mana potion to her lips followed by the healing. He didn't make her drink the entirety of either potion, knowing that if she took too much of the mana potion, she might not be able to sleep and she really didn't need the healing potion except for to reverse some of the fatigue depleting that much of her mana would cause. He finished off both of the flasks himself. She was out before the bottles hit the cave floor.

Hawke was adjusting the elvhen woman in his arms to carry her back to camp when the two warriors returned, Varric a few paces behind. Iron Bull spoke first, holding out his burly arms, "I can carry her back."

The male mage tightened his grip around Valena unconsciously, bringing her a fraction closer to his chest. "No," Hawke replied, trying his best to seem nonchalant. "I got her."

Gregory didn't even have to look at Varric to know that the dwarf would be all kinds of smug and cocky over this development. Bull just raised an eyebrow but shrugged and let it go. Blackwall looked confused but didn't press on the matter. Hawke chanced a glance at Varric and found his friend silently snickering at him, his shoulders shaking and hiding his mouth with a hand clapped over it. Hawke narrowed his eyes at the dwarf and promised himself that he'd punch Varric later.

They exited the cave they'd been eliminating darkspawn in. They'd accomplished their mission and would be returning to the hold, shortly. Valena would be relieved to be reunited with her littles once more, Hawke thought.

The walk back to camp was a long one and by the time they caught sight of the tents, Gregory's arms ached with the effort of carrying the Inquisitor. Still, he couldn't bring himself to let Blackwall or Bull carry her back the rest of the way. He liked how her head rested against his chest and the tiny little snores that escaped her every now and then. Gregory could admit to himself that he was completely smitten with Valena - he just couldn't admit it to anyone else yet.

Gregory almost dropped her when he stooped to enter her tent to deposit her inside. The jostling roused her and she blinked sleepily at him, seeming to be only half awake. "Grey?" she asked, grogginess and confusion clear in her voice. "What're ya doing in my tent?"

"I- er, well," he stuttered, feeling a little guilty even though he hadn't done anything wrong, "I carried you back to camp and was just putting you down."

Another slow, lethargic blink followed his statement. "Ah, I see," she replied understandingly, nodding to herself. After a long moment, her eyes began to droop again. Grey thought she was falling back asleep so he slowly started backing out of the tent, but she murmured something that stopped him in his tracks; "You know, sometimes... you look like... my... husband."

Gregory froze. "What?" he breathed, incredulous.

Valena shifted on her mat so that she was laying on her side, bunching up her pillow as much as she could. "He had lighter hair, but your eyes... remind me of... his."

Gregory's eyes could have popped out of his skull at this revelation. Valena had never really spoken about her husband before, only mentioning that he'd passed on before she'd turned up at the conclave with the crazy green magic anchor in her hand. Still, he wanted to use this opportunity to find out a little more about her past. "What was your husband's name?"

A small, sad smile crossed her face. "Aurelis. Aurelis Cathrie."

Hawke took a deep breath to steady himself. "What happened to Aurelis, Valena?"

The young woman did not reply and her silence made Gregory worry that his question had upset her. When he looked at her face, ready to blurt out every apology he could think of, though, he found her face smooth and impassive as she'd crossed into unconsciousness once more. Hawke sighed and slowly exited the tent. It was going to be a long night for the mage.

[theendlesssummerstory]

Endless Summer, Chapter 7/44 - Words make war, but pies make peace (Part 3)

I joined Quinn at the kitchen counter she was at, where she had baked 48 perfectly fluffy cupcakes.

I quickly calculated that 48 cupcakes meant 4 for everyone, and decided to joke about me needing more than 4.

“While I appreciate your efforts, Quinn... I’m afraid there’s a big mistake.” I told her.

Quinn looked at me, sadly. “What... what’s wrong?”

I had planned to drag out the joke, but looking at her sad expression, I couldn’t. “There’s only 4 cupcakes for everyone. I need a lot more than that.”

Quinn laughed, relieved that there was nothing wrong with her baking. “I’ve always thought there were two certainties in life... you’re gonna die, and you can never have too many cupcakes.”

“That sounds about right.” I joked.

“Now, you get to help me with the most important part of baking cupcakes!” Quinn told me.

“The eating!” I joked - I felt comfortable joking around Quinn, unlike the others. She was fun and had this... infectious energy and positivity.

“Okay, the second most important part.” Quinn smiled, correcting herself. “The frosting!”

She pointed to the end of the counter, where there was vanilla, strawberry and chocolate frosting.

“Which do you think we should use?” she asked me.

“How about we do 16 of each?” I suggested. “That way, there’s something for everyone.”

“Oh, wonderful idea!” she beamed, handing me the vanilla frosting, while she started expertly working on cupcakes with the chocolate frosting.

“It seems like you bake a lot.” I pointed out.

“When I was younger, my mum and I would be at home together, and we’d bake a lot.” she explained. “We’d whip up pies and trays of cupcakes.”

After a brief pause, I noticed she didn’t mention her dad, probably on purpose, and after some reluctance brought it up.

“Your dad... did he bake with you and your mother?” I asked her.

“No.” said Quinn. “But he’d come home from work every day and say ‘Darn it, you two! Where’s my steak and potatoes? I can’t live on just cupcakes!’ But then when he thought we weren’t looking, he’d stuff himself with them! Hee hee!”

Quinn’s laugh was the same as Lila’s, but it was more genuine... less cold.

“Your childhood sounds great.” I told her, truthfully.

Quinn suddenly had a sad expression on her face. “...parts of it were.”

She shook off her melancholy. “I always wanted my own bakery, ‘For Goodness Cake’... but sadly, that’ll never happen.”

I was curious about her last comment, but decided to change the subject back to baking - that’s what seemed to cheer Quinn up after my joke, after all. “Do you and your mum still bake? Does your dad still steal the cupcakes?”

Quinn shook her head. “They got divorced years ago.”

I instantly regretted bringing up the subject. “Oh, Quinn, I’m sorry, I had no clue-“

“It’s fine.” Quinn assured me. “You couldn’t have known. And things did start to improve between them... until January at least.”

“What happened in January?” I couldn’t help myself.

Quinn thought a while before answering. “Let’s just say, I was afraid... but I don’t need to be afraid anymore.”

We finished the frosting in silence, working together to complete the strawberry frosting.

As we grabbed the cupcakes and went to leave the kitchen for the pool area, Quinn turned to me, smiling widely. “Thanks for helping, Taylor. This was fun.”

“No problem, Quinn.” I assured her, and decided to apologise. “Sorry if my questions... upset you back there.”

Quinn shook her head. “No, no, nothing to worry about!”

We left for the pool area, and I was anxious as to how Raj’s feast would go.

“Raj has to pull this off.” I remember thinking to myself. “...he has to.”

inn and I arrived at the pool area to see it all set up by Raj for the feast - from speakers, a festive playlist played, and from torches, ambient lights flickered.

On the table itself, Raj had placed sizzling roast pork, savory sauces, juicy fruits and sweet deserts.

On a side table, he had a tray with 13 alcoholic drinks - a beer, a glass of wine and some cocktails, some of them alcoholic.

I walked up to Raj. “Can we start eating now?”

Raj shook his head. “That comes after everyone’s here, Taylor! Grab everyone, get them here... and experience the awesomeness of a Raj Feast!!!”

15 minutes later, I had gotten everyone and they were seated at the table. On the left were the group who had investigated Rourke’s Office (including Zahra) and on the right were the group who had relaxed by the pool.

Raj had seated Sean and Jake at the top end of the table, so they were directly opposite each other, followed by Lila and Diego, Grace and Michelle, Aleister and Quinn, Zahra and Craig, then finally Raj and I sat at the bottom end of the table.

Some ‘pairs’ were getting on well...

“Oh wow... this pork is sublime.” Grace commented.

“I know, right?” Michelle agreed. “Raj definitely outdid himself.”

...whereas others were not.

“Pass the fries, would ya?” Sean demanded of Jake.

“You’re the jock, aren’t you?” Jake countered. “Grab ‘em yourself.”

My heart sunk - although the two groups were coming together, it didn’t seem like there was any hope of Sean and Jake ever reconciling.

After everyone had eaten, Raj grabbed the tray with the drinks and started handing them out - Jake got the beer and Michelle got the wine.

“Dare I ask what is happening?” Aleister asked him.

“I’ve prepared for everyone a ‘signature drink’ - a drink I think is right for them!” Raj explained. “Thanks to Taylor, Zahra and Craig, I had enough alcohol to quite literally make everyone the creme de la creme of drinks!”

“Can we drink first?” Craig asked him. “I wanna drink!”

“How can you drink right now?!” gasped a bewildered Zahra. “It’s taking all of my willpower to not be sick.”

“We’ll drink soon.” Raj assured Craig. “But in the meantime... I want to propose a toast.”

Raj stood up, drink in hand, and gestured for everyone else to do the same.

“Right now, we’re standing around this table, but all of us are holding a different drink. That’s not just because I like mixing things up - it’s also a pretty good metaphor.”

“When you look at us all from a distance, we’re all different. Some of us are confident leaders... some of us are rebels, testing the boundaries to find new solutions... some of us are jocks, hackers and nerds... and some of us are insanely cute foxes with ice powers!”

“But that’s just the surface. Underneath, these drinks are all delicious. And they all have the same purpose, same goal in mind - to bring us together.”

“We all have the same goal in mind - we want to get back to our families, our friends, our lives. But we’re never gonna accomplish that unless we resolve our superficial differences, and come together.”

“If we keep fighting, we’ll tear each other apart. If we come together, we’ll escape, and go back home with the greatest memory of our lives.”

“So! Can I get a toast to THAT!”

We all looked at each other, silently contemplating what Raj had just said.

Eventually, Sean reached out his glass to Jake.

“To coming together.” he toasted.

We all stared as Jake looked at the glass in Sean’s hand... and eventually, with a slight smile on his face, reached out his glass and clinked it with Sean’s.

“To getting back home.”

“And to Raj!” I said. “Who brought us all together.”

“Aw!” said Raj, trying (but failing) to not blush. “Thanks Taylor!”

Relieved, we all sat back down, the conflict apparently over.

We all started talking to each other, and to my great personal relief, Sean and Jake were talking in a calm manner.

“So, shooter, any luck calling for help yet?” Jake asked him.

“No.” said Sean, shaking his head sadly. “Every radio I’ve tried brings back static. It’s like we’re in some sort of communication bubble.”

“It’s clear this island is cut off from traditional communication channels.” Grace joined in. “We need something really sophisticated in order to break through whatever’s interfering with the signal.”

“Correct.” Aleister agreed. “And I believe a satellite uplink would be strong enough to do that.”

Something about that seemed familiar to me... satellite uplink...

“Wait!” Zahra realised. “Taylor, didn’t that note in the V.I.P lounge mention a satellite uplink? In the L.H.O?”

Zahra was right.

“L.H.O...” Lila mused. “La Huerta Observatory! It makes sense... the La Huerta Observatory is a state-of-the-art facility with access to Rourke’s satellite relay...”