#i miss jonesy why didn’t we see him FOR ALMOST THE ENTIRE CHAPTER???!??? WHERE THE FUCK DID HE GO????

[comfychomps]

i’m sorry i have like fully abandoned this account, i’m still playing fortnite almost daily but i don’t really care to keep up with the fandom anymore because the lore lately has been so middddd. Do you guys remember when fortnite was fun? I do.

[the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt]

You’re Killing Me, Swan - Chapter 2/3

It’s chapter 2! Once again, all the best to everyone involved in @fallforcs. And some reminders that @theonceoverthinker is a great beta, and @sailingcaptainswan made the gorgeous art for this story. My longer, sappier thank yous are in the Chapter 1 post.  I hope everyone who reads this loves it! 

Rating: G

Also on Ao3 

“Let’s play ball!” David screamed as the team ran onto the baseball diamond for the game against Neal and his posse.

Neal’s team was already there, all the boys in their positions on the field, throwing a baseball around between them. The home team seemed visibly put off by the screams announcing the arrival of the team from the sandlot.

Killian led his team to an area near the bench that would serve as the dugout for this game.

“Okay, team. David’s leadoff. Then Scarlet’s the 2-spot. Liam is the 3-hole. I’m the cleanup. Robin is the 5 position. Grumpy - spot 6. Sneezy - spot 7. Swan, you’re batting 8. And Squints, take us home as the 9 player.” The team all nodded. There were a couple “okay”s, an “aye, aye, Captain,” and Sneezy sneezed. “And Scarlet, you'll pitch.” Will saluted Killian and Killian dismissed the group to go sit on the bench.

David stepped up to the plate. His teammates on the bench took in the field in front of him. David made a show out of taking some practice swings and sauntering up to the base.

“Hurry up, batter,” the tall catcher - Pan, Emma remembered - pushed David.

“Relax, Pan,” Neal, who was on the pitcher’s mound, yelled. “It's gonna be a short game, and I gotta get home for lunch.”

David took his position and nodded to Neal that he was ready. First was a swing and a miss.

Pan snickered, “that’s one!”

David hit the next pitch - a double. The sandlot team cheered as Will ran after the bat to where David tossed it before he ran. Will hit a single. Liam hit a double. Killian was on deck.

“Spread back, guys. Little Jonesy is good,” Neal sent his team back further out on the field to prepare for a big hit from Killian.

Eric leaned over to Emma and whispered, “he’s got this,” before retreating back to his own space and pushing up his glasses.

Neal released the first pitch, and it almost hit Killian. Emma saw Liam clench his fists at second as he watched his brother barely move out of the way of the ball. Emma could see Killian’s jaw clench from her place on the bench.

Will was the only one to speak up. “Oi! Watch it, Cassidy!”

“Shut up, Scarlet.” Neal didn’t take his gaze off Killian, who was taking a couple breaths before stepping back up to the plate.

“Not my problem if the only way you think you can win is by taking out Jones!”  

“Scarlet!” Neal barked, glaring at Will on third. Will shrugged in response, earning laughter from his team in the dugout. Neal shook it off, narrowing his eyes at Killian, and throwing another pitch, which collided with Killian’s bat. Neal’s teammates hit the fence as the ball soared over it for a home run. Killian ran the bases and arrived back to the bench to high-fives from his team.

On deck was Robin, who hit a single. The twins both got out - Grumpy with a flyout and Sneezy with a strikeout. Emma hit the ball with enough distance to get her to first, but Robin tried getting two bases out of it and got tagged out at third. Even with the three outs, the group of kids from the sandlot ended their first half an inning with 4 runs.

Neal’s team managed to score 1 in the bottom of the first, but that 1 was never going to be enough, and both teams knew it.

By the time the fifth inning came around, Neal was in danger of taking Grumpy’s nickname from him. The top half of the fifth, Emma led off with a triple, and Eric got her home with a sacrifice fly. But that was the only easy out the other team got the entire half inning. David, Will, Liam, Killian, and Robin all hit easily, quickly making their way around the bases. Grumpy and Sneezy both hit singles, which Emma followed with another triple. It appeared she figured out Neal’s pitching style. She smirked at Neal from third when he kept looking back at her.

At that moment, Emma made up her mind: She was going to steal home.

Emma glanced at Killian and the rest of her teammates in the dugout for support. When they figured out her intention, they all got quiet. In that moment, Neal looked over to the dugout to see why they went silent, and Emma ran. Neal’s guard was down, he was relaxed, and he was entirely unprepared to throw the ball. He didn’t think to turn back to Emma until she was halfway home. When he spotted her dashing, he cursed out Felix at third for not warning him sooner and threw the ball toward Pan at home, but due to his lack of preparation for the throw, it fell short, making Pan shuffle around to grab it before Emma touched home. Not concerning herself with the other team and their attempts to get her out, she leapt into the air and slid into home, not only touching it to be called safe, but also marking the first time ever she’s slid on a baseball field. Her team jumped off their bench and ran over to her to celebrate her stealing home, and Pan threw the ball at the ground in frustration as the kids from the sandlot roared and cheered. Liam, Robin, Will, and David lifted Emma as the team continued cheering for her. She really felt like a real baseball player at that moment, and she felt like part of a real team. As the boys put her down, she high-fived everyone as they made their way back to their bench so they could continue the game.

“Maybe we should follow a mercy rule, huh, Neal?” Emma was surprised by Liam’s instigation, but she stopped paying attention to the ensuing argument about mercy rule as Killian caught her by the arm.

“Are you alright? Your leg is bleeding.” That’s not what she thought he’d say, but she looked down to see that she scraped her leg while sliding. There were cuts and scrapes from her knee down the side of her leg. Emma laughed to herself, as she just figured out why baseball players wear pants.

“I’m fine. Just scrapes.” Killian let out a breath in relief. “I can play the rest of the game and get some Band-Aids when I get home.” Killian gave her a look as if to ask if she was sure. She smiled at him and walked slowly toward the dugout to show him she was serious about finishing this game.

“Wait, Swan!” Killian stopped her before she sat down with the rest of the team. He scratched at the spot where his cap met the back of his ear. “That was incredible.”

Feeling heat rush to her cheeks, Emma looked down as she quietly said, “thanks.”

“How’d it feel?”

“Unbelievable.” ---- To say the game was a success would be an understatement. In fact, they beat the crap out of those guys. The game was a series of the crack of the bat against the ball. They only allowed Neal’s team two more runs the entire game.

As the team all went to their respective homes to gather their saved-up allowances for a celebration at the nearest convenience store, Killian caught up to Emma.

“Hey, Swan.”

“Hey, Killian.”

“Do you want to watch baseball with me?”

“But the team’s going to get candy and Slurpees.”

Killian took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I was thinking of skipping out on that.”

Emma stopped in her tracks. “Really?” He shrugged as he stopped a couple steps ahead of her.

“I kinda want to save my money for when we go to that baseball game.” Emma nodded in understanding but stayed silent. Killian sighed. “Will you at least clean up your leg before you go with them?”

After a brief pause, Emma spoke. “Actually, I was thinking I’d watch baseball with my best friend instead.” Killian raised his eyebrows. “After I get some Band-Aids,” she added.

“Liam,” Killian called after his brother, who looked back at Emma and Killian, who were way behind the rest of the group. “Emma and I are going to skip the store. See you at home.” Liam nodded and joined the other boys as they made their way down the street.

“Do you want to come over?” Emma tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ingrid and Arthur are still at work, but they won’t mind.”

“Sure, Swan.” Emma led Killian to her house. She unlocked the door and showed him to the living room, where the Swans kept their best television set.

“You can start watching if you want.” She handed him the remote. “I’ll be back once I wash this off and get a couple Band-Aids.”

Killian put the remote on the arm of the couch. “Let me help you.”

“Okay,” Emma replied softly as she went upstairs to her bathroom. “There should be some first aid stuff in here.” Emma went to bend down to look under the sink, but Killian stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Sit down, Swan. Let me.” She just nodded as she sat on the closed toilet and Killian rummaged under her sink. She stretched her leg out over the bathtub edge next to her as she waited for her friend. “Aha!” He pulled out a white first-aid kit and placed it on the sink. He opened it and fished out some antibiotic cream and a few large Band-Aids. “I’m going to wash it off first. Do you have a clean rag I can use?”

“Washcloths are in the towel closet behind you.” Killian nodded and grabbed a teal washcloth and wet it with cold water and some soap. He wrung it out to even the soap covering and turned to Emma.

“Sorry if this hurts. It’s just soap and water, but you never know.” He waited for Emma’s signal that she was ready before he turned his attention to her scraped leg. He dropped to his knees as he gently placed the cloth over the first and highest scrape, cleaning it out carefully and working his way down, stopping to rewash the cloth every so often. The blood had pretty much dried through the rest of the game, but it was staining the towel red. Killian finished cleaning up her leg, and he washed off the cloth once more before asking where her laundry was so he could put the pink-stained cloth in there. After dropping the cloth in the laundry basket, Killian came back to Emma and started opening Band-Aids.

“Thanks for this, Killian.”

He stopped what he was doing and smiled at her.

“Of course, Swan.” He turned back to opening the Band-Aid wrapper in his hand. “And I know you could have done this yourself, but you don’t have to. I hope you know that.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Yeah. I’m figuring that out.”

“And you didn’t have to ditch the rest of the group just because I was.” He put down the open Band-Aid in his hand and looked at her. “You didn’t do that because I asked you to, right?”

“Don’t worry, Killian. I’m not really in the mood to spend all my money on bubble gum and candy.”

“And I really don’t need to see Scarlet puke up multi-colored Slurpee.” They both laughed.

“That too.” Neither of them did anything for a moment. “Besides,” Emma broke the silence and looked at the ground before bringing her eyes back to Killian’s, “I have a box of Apollo bars downstairs. Ever since she found out it’s my favorite candy, Ingrid always keeps some in the house.”

“Well, you’ve definitely earned an Apollo bar, Swan. Stealing home! Do you know how hard that is?!” Killian put some antibiotic cream on the soft part of each of the bandages as he went on about what a great game they all played. Emma couldn’t keep her attention on his words because a thought was nagging at the back of her mind.

“Uh, Killian,” Emma frowned. “I want to tell you something. Just so you know.”

“Yeah, Swan?”

“Liam - he told me about you and Neal.” Killian nearly dropped the Band-Aid in his hand.

“He did?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. It wasn’t his story to tell. He just thought I should know why you all hate Neal so much.”

Killian put down the Band-Aid this time. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m not proud of it.”

“It’s okay,” Emma covered his left hand with her right. His hand twitched in response, but he didn’t pull away. She could feel the scars from where his hand had busted open; they would never go away completely. “I just wanted you to know that I know.” He nodded. “And Neal’s a jerk. He probably deserved it.” Emma laughed softly when Killian chuckled, a smile breaking out on his face.

“Thanks, Swan.” They shared a smile before Killian brought his attention back to the task at hand. “So all these bandages have cream on them to keep your scrapes from getting infected.” He grabbed one and again looked to Emma for a cue to start. She nodded and he put the first Band-Aid on her knee, then the rest where the scrapes were the worst. After he finished, he threw the wrappers in the trash and put the cream back in the first-aid kit. “All done.”

“Thank you, Killian.” There was more comfortable silence as Killian returned the first-aid where he got it.

“Ready to watch some baseball?”

“Yeah. Totally. Want an Apollo bar?” She asked as they made their way back downstairs.

He stopped just short of the last couple steps. She almost fell on top of him. “You’d share your favorite candy with me?”

“Sure.”

“Um, yeah. That’d be great.” Emma noticed his ears turning pink before he turned around and found a spot on her couch. Emma grabbed two Apollo bars from the kitchen and took a seat next to him as he found a game to watch on TV.

And watching the game with Killian was just like the first time - Killian interrupting the game with trivia and stats while Emma took everything in, both the game and Killian. ---- Ingrid came home in the middle of the eighth inning.

“Emma, I’m home!”

“In here, Ingrid!” Emma’s mother walked in the living room to find Emma and Killian sitting next to each other on the couch, two empty Apollo bar wrappers on the coffee table in front of them.

“Hi there, Killian. Nice to see you again.”

“You too, Mrs. Swan,” Killian smiled at Ingrid.

“Please, it’s Ingrid, especially now that you’re best friends with my daughter.” She picked up the candy wrappers and threw them away as Killian blushed ever so slightly and reassured her he’d call her Ingrid from then on, though they both knew he wouldn’t. “Killian,” Ingrid called from the kitchen, “would you like to stay for dinner?”

He muted the television and shifted so he was facing the kitchen. “I don’t want to inconvenience your family.”

“It wouldn’t be an inconvenience. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like. I’ll call your mom.”

Killian turned to Emma to see if she’d like him to stay. That would make all the difference. She nodded enthusiastically. “Stay.”

“I’d love to, Mrs. Swan - err, Ingrid.”

“Great! I’ll call your mom to let her know.”

“Thank you, Ingrid,” he said, feeling awkward as he said it. Emma laughed beside him as he unmuted the television. Since Ingrid got home, Emma was hyper-aware of everything going on - the game on the television, the pull of the Band-Aids on her skin every time she bent or straightened her leg, her foster mother chatting gleefully with Killian’s mom on the phone, Killian’s shoulder still touching hers as he alternated between getting lost watching the game and spouting out fun facts. Her senses all seemed to be on high alert, so much so that she nearly jumped when Ingrid called her name from the kitchen.

“Emma,” Ingrid called again.

“Yeah, hi. Sorry! Tuned out for a second.”

“No problem, sweetie. Could you set the table? Your father will be home soon.”

“Sure.” Emma told Killian he could keep watching as she stood up and made her way to the kitchen. She made her way to the drawer with the silverware as Ingrid checked the spaghetti on the stove.

“Did you have a good day, Em?”

“Yeah. We played against some rich jerks and we totally crushed them.” She started putting forks on the table when Ingrid turned around and noticed Emma’s bandaged leg for the first time.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“What?” Emma had honestly forgotten about her scrapes because they didn’t hurt anymore.

“Your leg, honey.”

“Oh. I just scraped it sliding home.” She couldn’t quite keep from smiling at the accomplishment.

“You scored?” Ingrid’s voice was filled with pride. Emma nodded, grinning harder.

“I stole home.” Ingrid dropped the spoon she was holding into the saucepan on the stove as she rushed over to Emma to hug her.

“Congratulations, Emma.”

“Thanks.” Emma’s cheeks turned pink as she glanced downward.

“We’ll have to celebrate. Ice cream for dessert? Any toppings you want!”

“Wow! Thank you!” Ingrid looked at her foster daughter, smiling from ear to ear before going back into worried mom mode.

“Did you clean off the scrapes?”

Emma nodded again. “Yeah. Killian washed them out and put that anti-infection cream on them when he put the Band-Aids on it.”

“Killian did that?”

“Yeah. I told him I could do it and he didn’t have to.”

“That was very gentlemanly of him, don’t you think?” Ingrid glanced over at Killian, still watching baseball on the couch.

“It was nice of him.”

“He’s a good friend to you.”

Emma followed Ingrid’s gaze to Killian, still sitting on the couch watching the game. “The best.” ---- Emma was drawing at the desk in her room when she heard something knock against the window. She shook it off and ignored it. And then it happened again. And again. Emma put her pencil down and rushed to her window expecting to sese Killian. Instead, she saw Neal.

She cracked her window open just barely and crossed her arms, not giving him the satisfaction of her coming down to meet him.

“What do you want, Neal?”

“Come down here, Ems. It’ll be much easier to talk to you.”

“And if I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Please.” She knew he knew there was nothing he could really do if she refused. She was in control. She sighed and put up her hand to tell him to wait there as she headed to her backyard.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have a proposal for you.” She said nothing, only raised her eyebrows in question. “How would you like to play on a real baseball diamond all the time?”

“I don’t…”

“I want you on my team, Ems.” She shivered at the way he used a nickname for her.

“I already have a team.”

“Yeah, but how are you supposed to get better when you play with a bunch of losers?”

“They’re not losers. You seem to be forgetting they - we kicked your team’s butt.” She definitely bruised his ego with that one; he was bad at hiding that fact. “Plus, they’re my friends.”

“Sure. Friends. But stealing home, Ems - no one on my team would even think of it. It’s impressive. We could use you.”

“I’m happy where I am.”

“Talent like yours deserves to be realized on a diamond, not a dusty clearing.”

“It’s not talent. Killian taught me.”

“Ems, I’ve seen you. You can play.”

“Killian took a chance on me when I couldn’t even throw a ball. I’ll never abandon him. If it weren’t for Killian, I wouldn’t be playing anywhere. Not even the sandlot.”

“I don’t think you’re getting this. You could play for a good, real team on a real field.”

“Actually, you’re not getting it. I don’t want to play with any other team. I like the one I have. We might not play on a real diamond, but we’re friends. Besides, the sandlot’s not so bad.”

“We could be your friends, too, Ems.”

“First of all, stop calling me that. I hate that nickname...”

“Little Jones gives everyone nicknames.”

“Killian calls most of us by our last names. His nickname thing is treating us like we’re all professional players. He sees life as a ball game.”

“Well, isn’t it?” He caught her off guard. “Life throws us pitches - fastballs, curveballs - and we decide if we’re going to let it pass or swing for the fences. And I’m pitching you a change-up. Come play with us. You’ll still have your old friends.”

“No thanks, Neal. I’m going to go back inside now.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“I really don’t think I will.” ---- “Emma, the Joneses are here!” Ingrid yelled for Emma to come to the door.

“I’m here, Ingrid,” Emma answers as she rushes down the stairs.

“You have everything?”

“I put sunscreen on. I have my phone. I have some money. Mrs. Jones has my ticket.”

“Here, honey.” Ingrid rummaged around through her wallet and pulled out some bills. “This is for food. This is for your ticket. Alice will probably refuse, but offer it.” Emma nodded her understanding. “And this,” Ingrid pulled out some extra money and handed it to her daughter, “is for anything you might see that you want.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Thank you so much, Ingrid!” Overcome with emotion, Emma surged forward and hugged her foster mom.

“Have a great time, Emma.” Emma pulled away and opened the door to find Killian standing there waiting for her.

“I will, Ingrid,” she answered as she waved and closed the door behind her.

“Good afternoon, Swan.”

“Hey, Killian.”

“Ready for your first game?”

“Yeah. I’m so excited!”

He led her to his mom’s car and opened the car door for her. “After you, Swan.”

“Thanks, Killian.” She sat and said hello to Liam and Alice in the front of the car. “Thanks for bringing me, Ms. Alice. I have money for my ticket.”

“Nonsense, Emma. You’re our guest. Thank you for offering, but no that you’ll never have to pay when we invite you. We’re happy to have you here with us.”

“Well, thank you so much.”

There was some awkward silence as Alice pulled away from Emma’s house and onto the road.

“So, Swan, we’re going to Citi Field. The New York Mets play there. Today, they’re playing the Los Angeles Dodgers.” Killian listed facts about the stadium and the field until Emma interrupted him.

“Can I ask a stupid question - no judgement?”

“Sure, Swan.”

“Are we rooting for the Mets or the Dodgers?”

Killian opened his mouth to answer, but Liam beat him to it. “That is not a stupid question, Emma, because my brother here is a fan of literally every baseball team in the major league. And minor leagues.”

Killian closed his mouth.

“Well, Emma,” Alice started, peeking at Emma through her rear-view mirror, “we’re in New York, so most of the people there are going to cheer for the Mets, but you can cheer for whoever you want.”

Emma muttered a quiet “thanks” and glanced at Killian, who shrugged, nonverbally agreeing with what his mom said. Emma noticed Killian’s blue Mets hat, so she made the decision to just go with the crowd. When it was clear Alice and Liam were done interrupting, Killian started spouting player and team stats. Emma listened, but she didn’t understand what most of the numbers meant. She’d look up baseball stats when she got home. But for now, Emma listened to Killian and ignored Alice’s smiles in the rear-view mirror and Liam’s glances into the back of the car. ----

When they got to the stadium, Emma’s excitement receded just a tad to nervousness. There was already a large crowd at the gates. There was a massive sea of blue - blue shirts, blue hats - all with dashes of orange somewhere on them. It would be so easy to get lost. She should’ve expected that from a Saturday night game.

Perceptive as ever, Killian linked his arm with Emma’s so they wouldn’t get separated. They followed Alice and Liam to a line. When they claimed a space in one of the lines to get in, Emma looked around, already struggling to take it all in. There were just so many people around, and she could barely register anything other than that.

“You alright, Swan?”

Her mouth was dry so she just nodded.

“We’ve got awesome seats. They’re just past third base.” He was talking about baseball as he normally would, but Emma knew he was just talking now to make her more comfortable. She listened to him and kept her eyes switching between Alice and Liam in front of them and Killian beside her, and, finally, she started to relax. Killian was only halfway through listing his favorite ballpark foods when the line started moving at a consistent pace. Unconsciously tightening her arm with Killian’s, she walked forward, never allowing more than a few inches between herself and Alice. Alice handed the stadium employee their four tickets, and the group passed through the turnstile.

Emma was officially in an MLB stadium for the first time in her life.

Alice decided they should find their seats before they break up to get food and souvenirs, so Emma followed closely behind as they entered the maze of sections and food vendors and Mets shops. She didn’t know what to focus on as they passed a hot dog stand, then section 108, then a nacho stand, then a souvenir stand. She was assaulted by the smell of hot dogs and beer, and she found she could get used to it pretty quickly.

“Wow,” she mumbled to herself.

“Pretty cool, right?” Killian was beaming.

“How do you know what to do with yourself? There’s so much.”

“Lots of practice. Or coming with someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“Lucky I’m here with you then, huh?”

Emma found it hard to look at him while they spoke, as they had to make sure they didn’t lose the older Joneses. That also didn’t stop her from trying.

“Well,” Killian never finished his thought. She knows he would’ve been scratching his ear if he could. Alice paused in front of a section - section 122. Killian grinned at Emma as Alice worked the tickets out of her purse. He spoke softly, “I feel lucky to be here when you experience your first game.” Oh, so that was the end of that thought. Emma nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I wouldn’t be here if not for you.” She considered telling him about Neal asking her to join his team, but ultimately decided she didn’t want to ruin his day. This was special for him. Who was she to be a downer? She’d tell him another day.

“Swan?” He swiped his hand in front of her face.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I know it’s overwhelming.”

“Yeah.”

“Ready to find our seats?”

“Absolutely,” she smiled. He tugged on her arm, still linked with his, to get her to walk with him. They eventually had to separate arms to head down the stairs to their seats, but when they all sat down, Emma’s hand landed on Killian’s on the arm rest they shared as she took it all in. “It’s huge!”

Killian kept his eyes trained on Emma as she looked around the stadium from her seat very close to the field. He let out a breath of relief as he noticed her smiling. “Not too much?”

“Maybe, but I’ll get used to it. This is,” she bit her lip as she tried to find the right words. When she didn’t find them, she just went with the first adjective that came to her mind. “So cool.”

“Killian,” Alice took Killian’s attention off Emma momentarily, “why don’t you and Emma stay here while Liam and I get some early dinner. Then you two can go when we get back.”

“Sounds good, Mum.” Alice gave Killian his and Emma’s tickets and grabbed Liam’s sleeve to drag him out of his seat.

Emma was still in the moment. She watched the grounds crew work on the field, painting straight white lines on the dirt. In the outfield, she caught sight of some players practicing throws. She didn’t know people could throw that far. And the baseball diamond was way bigger than the one they played on against Neal. Thoughts danced through her head as she tried to imagine getting to play on a real diamond like that every day. She looked to the scoreboard. The Mets logo was front and center on the screen, and there was a countdown to the game in smaller numbers below. They had gotten there really early.

“They don’t look as big as I thought they would,” Emma pointed to the players on the field.

“But wait ‘til you see what they can do! They throw over a hundred miles an hour!”

“Scarlet can’t do that.”

“Not even close.” They both laughed. “And when they hit a home run, Swan, it goes all the way out of the park over there.”

Emma’s gaze followed his finger. “That’s ridiculously far!”

“I want to be able to do that one day.”

“If anyone can, it’s you. You’re the best player I know.”

“I don’t know, Swan. I’m okay in the sandlot, but in the major leagues?”

“What do you mean?” She finally turned to look at Killian for the first time since before they sat down.

“After the whole fight between Neal and me, my hand was messed up. My mum took me to physical therapy three times a week while it healed. I told them I wanted to be a baseball player, but they said I might never be able to use my hand completely normally.” Emma could see how painful that was for Killian to admit. He found it hard to keep his eyes on Emma’s.

“But that doesn’t make sense,” she started talking without thinking. “You’re the best player in the neighborhood, maybe even the state.”

“It still hurts sometimes when I use it too much. It cramps a lot. Or when the skin stretches too much.” He brought his left hand from the armrest and showed Emma. She’d never gotten a good look at it before. She was still unconsciously holding his right hand.

“So what if you can’t use your hand totally normally? You’re good - the best. And if you want to, you will end up here.”

“You really think so, Swan?”

“I know it.”

“Thank you, truly.”

---- “Any idea what you might want to eat, Swan?” Killian led Emma up the stairs and back into the covered stadium halls.

“None at all. Any recommendations?”

“There’s your classic ballpark food - hot dogs, nachos, burgers, popcorn, Cracker Jack, ice cream, pretzels.” He pointed to concession stands as they walked by. “There are also chicken tenders and barbeque and pizza and stuff like that.” Killian led Emma to a part of the stadium with sit-down restaurants and fancier-looking stands. “But we’ve also got some special food. It’s more expensive, but it’s supposed to be good. There’s deli sandwiches, seafood, and all kinds of other stuff if you want to sit down.”

Emma looked around at everything trying to examine all her options before deciding.

“Anything you want, Swan, it’s on us. My mum said not to let you pay, so don’t even ask.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue but knew it would be pointless. “Fine. Thanks, Killian.” He nodded in response, clearly waiting for her to make a decision. She glanced around her some more, still debating her options. The specialty food smelled amazing, but she wasn’t paying, and she didn’t want to take advantage of Alice’s generosity. Not to mention she kinda wanted to go back to her seat so she could have the real stadium experience.

“I like it all. I’ll eat anything you want,” Killian added, hoping to relieve some of the pressure off Emma.

“Do you want to share? Like, I get one thing and you get one thing and we, you know, split it?” Emma watched the smile slowly spread over Killian’s face.

“You’re bloody brilliant, Swan. This way, you can try even more food.”

“You’re the expert. What should we get to share?”

“What about chicken tenders and a hot dog? Liam usually caves and gets nachos during the seventh inning stretch, so we can steal some of his.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

“I know you’ve had chicken tenders and hot dogs before.” Killian froze mid-walk. “Wait. Have you?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, Killian. I’ve had those before.” She felt the breath he let out in relief.

“Well, these hot dogs and chicken tenders are different. They’re better somehow.”

“I trust you.”

“Hey, we should look at merch before we get the food so it’s easier to carry and doesn’t get cold.” Emma shrugged and gestured for Killian to lead the way. He took them to a Mets store next to a concession stand closer to their section. They had ended up pretty far away when they wandered around debating dinner.

“One condition of me going in there, Killian.” He raised an eyebrow in silent question. “You have to let me pay for my own stuff here. Ingrid gave me money to get myself something I see that I want.”

Killian considered her proposition for a moment. “Okay. Deal.”  

The two walked into the little store together. Emma had no clue what she wanted. Maybe she’d get a hat or a glove so she could stop using Killian’s. With that in mind, she went to the gloves.

“Swan, what are you doing? You have a glove.”

“Your glove. If I get one, you can have your old one back.”

“It doesn’t fit me anymore. It’s my old glove. It’s perfect on you.” Emma didn’t really have a response. He told her as much when he gave her his glove, but she had always planned to give it back to him. “Look, Swan, why don’t you get something you actually want, not something you think you need?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The glove was a gift. And so was the hat, so don’t even think about it. Although you can never have too many hats.” Emma accepted that he wasn’t going to let her give anything back, but she wasn’t wearing at hat at the moment and she wanted to get one to keep the sun out of her eyes. Not to mention, she could get herself a hat, which would be special for her to have something she got for herself.

“I might get another hat.”

“Yeah?” Emma nodded, walking toward a wall full of nothing but hats. She found a few that she loved, but she made her final choice pretty easily. And since the hat she chose was actually on sale, she ended up getting the hat and a baseball signed by the entire team - well, the entire team pre-season, which isn’t the same as the current team, but still cool. Killian got a few packs of baseball cards and a signed baseball for himself. He also used some of the allowance money he’d saved up to get a jersey.

“Jerseys are expensive.”

“That’s why I saved up so much. This way, I get the jersey and I still have some money left over.”

“Smart.” There was silence as they took their bags full of new stuff and headed over to get food. “The jersey looks good on you. You’re totally going to play one day. And people are going to spend an absurd amount of money to wear your jersey.”

His response was so quiet, Emma could barely hear it, but he was smiling. “Thanks, Swan.”

She could sense him getting emotional, so she decided to spare him. “So food?”

“Aye.” And just like that, they were back to normal. He bought them a hot dog and chicken tenders with fries. Emma wrapped both their merch bags around her wrist as she put ketchup, mustard, and relish on the hot dog because Killian told her she needed the full experience. Handing the hot dog back to Killian, she got them both little cups of ketchup for their chicken tenders and fries. She got a couple cups of barbeque sauce as well because, as Killian put it, why not?

Balancing all the food and condiments, they made their way back to their seats. Emma was thankful Killian remembered exactly where they sat without consulting the tickets or asking for help. She might not have gotten back on her own.

“You two made out well,” Alice stood up to let the kids through to their seats.

“Emma got a hat and a baseball signed by the whole team pre-season.”

“That’s great, Emma!”

“Um, thanks for the food, Ms. Alice. I could have paid.”

“I know, dear. You’re still our guest. You aren’t paying for food.” Alice smiled at Emma, and Emma smiled back. “And I hope you’ll let me get you a snack later - ice cream or cotton candy or popcorn or something.”

“Sure.” Emma’s smile grew.

“Let’s eat while the food’s still hot, Swan.” Emma’s attention switched from Alice to Killian. “You should start with the hot dog.”

“Okay. So I’ll eat half then?”

“Perfect.” She traded the condiments for the hot dog. He put the cups in the chicken tender basket and she finally took a bite.

With a mouthful of hot dog, she commented, “okay, this really is better.”

“I would never lie to you, Swan.” Emma swallowed and kept her eyes on her best friend for a silent moment before just going for another bite. Killian dipped a chicken tender in barbeque sauce and bit it off. It had been silent for too long, so Killian spoke, “have a fry.” Emma took a fry from his basket and dipped it in ketchup. The fry was still hot, but she found she didn’t mind the grease burn. She shoved the rest of the fry into her mouth after it had been exposed to the air for a few seconds before finishing her half of the hot dog.

“No other hot dog will ever be as good as a real, stadium hot dog.”

“Then we’ll just have to come back and get more.” Killian took the hot dog. She reached into the basket on his lap and took a chicken tender. They ate in relative silence as the players stopped practicing on the field and went back to their locker rooms.

They managed to finish their shared dinner approximately five minutes before the game was set to start. Emma got her hat out of her bag and put it on.

“The hat suits you.”

“Thanks.” Killian changed the subject and pointed to the dugouts. They could see a couple players going in and out, and Killian was already starting to get starstruck. And when the teams were introduced, Killian was practically vibrating with excitement. Liam laughed every time Killian cheered loudly or shouted comments on the players. Emma was amused at the whole situation. It did really feel like the players were celebrities with those introductions. She felt her breath being taken away as some of the players ran out onto the field. It really was, as she put it earlier, so cool. When they were instructed to stand for the national anthem, Killian was nearly beaming. And Emma was entirely charmed at the way his hair stood up when he took his hat off as a result of wearing the hat from the moment he woke up that morning. She fought the urge to smooth it down for him. Before she could dwell on that thought too much, they were sitting down again and the game was underway.

Emma was particularly fascinated with the pitch speeds. And when the first home run was hit by a Mets player, she nearly flinched at the loud crack of the bat. She watched the ball fly out of the park. Amazed, she leaned over to Killian and asked, “how do they do that?”

“They’re insanely talented at baseball.”

“So are you.”

“But this is so much bigger than the sandlot.” Emma said nothing. “They practice. They play baseball their entire lives and they only ever dream of ending up here.”

Killian started whispering predictions of plays into Emma’s ear, most of which actually pan out. When she adjusted to the depth perception change from their seats near third base, Emma started calling plays under her breath as they happened. Killian was impressed with her accuracy. For someone who couldn’t even throw a ball, she was a fast learner.

When a foul ball landed on the field directly in front of her, the ball boy threw the ball into the stands in their direction. It seemed to land directly in Killian’s hands, and he instantly gave it to her.

“I want you to have it. It’s your first game. It’s special.”

“You caught it. I can’t take it from you.”

“I want you to have it. Please.” She took the ball from his outstretched hand.

“Thank you, Killian. Seriously, thank you.”  She held onto the ball for two entire innings until, like Killian predicted, Liam came back with nachos in the seventh inning. Grumbling as Killian started stealing salsa- and cheese-covered chips, Liam offered the nachos to Emma. Putting her ball in her bag for safekeeping, she thanked Liam as she took a chip from the top with barely any cheese, but a big jalapeno on top.

“Emma, are you sure? That’s a jalapeno. It’s super spicy.”

“I like spice,” she reassured Liam. He still looked unsure. She ate the chip and jalapeno in one bite. She didn’t even flinch.

“Wow, I’m impressed.” Liam held the nachos out to her again. “You can eat my nachos whenever you want, especially if you eat the jalapenos.” Emma took another chip, but this time there was some salsa and cheese as well as a jalapeno. She crunched the chip and turned back to Killian, offering him another chip she grabbed when Liam offered.

“Thanks, Swan.” He took the chip from her and ate it. “I can’t believe you can eat jalapenos like that. I thought I was the only one.”

“You like jalapenos, too?”

“Aye. That’s the only reason Liam gets them.” She snagged Killian a toppings-covered chip with a juicy jalapeno sitting on top.

“How come Liam doesn’t want to share with you then? I mean, if he gets them for you, why was he all grumpy about you taking his chips?”

“He wants me to eat only the jalapenos.” They both laughed. “Sometimes I just want a couple chips, too.” They both ate chips for a minute. “Also...” there was a glob of cheese stuck to Killian’s lip. He licked it off. “...I’m his younger brother. Of course he doesn’t want to share with me.” Emma winked at Killian and snagged him some of Liam's chips under the guise they were for her.

After polishing off the nachos, Emma and Killian headed out to get some snacks during a pitching change.

“Any clue what you want?”

“Actually, I was thinking ice cream.”

“Perfect.” Killian walked up to the concession stand and ordered an ice cream and a soft pretzel. When the chocolate and vanilla swirled ice cream was handed to Emma, she was delighted to find it served in a miniature Mets helmet.

“This is so cool!” She held up the helmet bowl so Killian could see it. He chuckled.

“When you finish the ice cream, you can wash the helmet out and keep it.”

“I will. That’s awesome! Who thought of that?”

“No idea, love, but I have, like, 4 different ice cream helmets. It’s fantastic.” Killian thanked the concessions worker for the pretzel and they went back to their seats. He offered her a piece of the pretzel, and she offered him some ice cream in return. Emma loved them both, but she was glad she got most of the ice cream. It had been a hot afternoon, and it was only just starting to cool down as the night took over. Emma loved the way the bright stadium lights sparkled in Killian’s blue eyes, and she may have caught him watching her a couple times. She wanted to experience this moment of the stars coming out and the stadium lights going on more often. There was something extremely satisfying about a night game.

Her experience was made even better when the Mets pulled a win and the whole stadium roared with cheers. Her cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling, but she was so happy to cheer along with everyone else.

When Emma was dropped back home, Ingrid had to tell her to slow down so she and Arthur could understand everything Emma was telling them about the day. Arthur smiled and added some commentary of different aspects of the ballpark experience Emma mentioned. Arthur even offered her some unused ball cases for her game-used ball and her signed ball.

Emma got ready for bed, a few new additions to her room, as Arthur walked by to wish her goodnight.

“I’m glad you had a great day, Emma.”

“It was, Arthur. It really was. Thank you.”

“Maybe we could go to a game together," he suggested. He and Emma hadn't really bonded much since the black eye incident, and Emma could think of nothing better than going to a game with him.

“I’d love that.” She heard his relieved exhale. She wasn't just a meal ticket. Her new parents actually wanted to spend time with her.

“Goodnight, Emma.”

“Goodnight, Arthur.” Emma saw him smile before he turned off her light. As Emma thought about it - her new family and her new friends -  she realized just how happy she was.

[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 19)

Fandom:  The Adventure Zone:  Commitment Rating:  M Chapter Warnings:  Dissociation Relationship:  Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count:  1,904

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

things are gettin’ gay, I promise

Chapter Summary:   Nadiya takes a risk. Mary Sage reaches out. Kardala makes a connection.

__________________

“Anything?” Nadiya squinted at the map marked with black X’s. Who even used physical maps anymore?

Addison shook their head, resting their wrists on the top of the steering wheel. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“Me neither,” Flanagan said from the backseat. “Try the next one.”

Nadiya let out a sharp hiss from between her teeth, making another slash across the map at their intersection. “We’ve already been to seven places.” She ran the end of the pen along her teeth, making a ticking sound. “Where else she could be?”

“We have a few more places to check out,” Addison reassured her. “Don’t worry, we’ll, uh, we’ll find her, Nad.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nadiya muttered.

Addison put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space, checked their mirrors even though there was no one else on the street, and headed off in a new direction. Nadiya groaned to herself. They hadn’t even left until almost one (all three of them had slept like the dead, even with Kardala taking the couch, Nadiya curled into a chair, and Remy sprawled on the carpet). It had been four hours so far of driving around, listening to Addison alternately whistle and talk about their pet rabbit, and not finding Mary Sage, and Nadiya was fed up.

Not that she was thinking about quitting. They were going to find Mary Sage if they had to search all day and into tomorrow. That wasn’t a question. She just wished it was happening faster.

Suddenly, Addison’s whistling cut off. “Holy shit.”

Flanagan leaned forward. “You felt it too?”

“Yeah, yeah –” Addison jerked the steering wheel, pulling onto a side street. “This way?”

“I think so. Ouch, Kardala, move.”

“There is not room to move,” Kardala complained.

“Left! Left there,” Flanagan said, pointing.

Addison did as she said. “Should be straight ahead,” they muttered.

“Shit –” Flanagan doubled over. “Addison, I –”

Kardala pulled her back before she collapsed on the gear shift. “What’s wrong?”

“Powers,” Flanagan gasped, and then shook her head, eyes clenched shut.

“Do you need me to pull over?” Addison asked over their shoulder.

Flanagan shook her head and motioned for them to keep going. After a minute, Addison slowed and parked on the street. “That figures,” they said quietly, and pointed about fifty feet away to an old-looking elementary school playground.

“That’s where she is?” Remy said.

“Must be. It makes sense. She likes hiding, or high places, or both,” Addison said. “This place has been abandoned since the nineties, no one ever bothered to do anything with the building. Or the playground, I guess.”

“She really likes abandoned places,” Remy observed.

Addison sighed. “Yeah. Listen, she probably won’t want to see me or Flanagan. One of you should go.”

“Remy? Kardala?” Nadiya asked.

Kardala shook her head. Flanagan had taken hold of her hand and was holding it tightly. “I do not think I am who Mary Sage needs.”

“Not me either,” Remy said. “I… she probably doesn’t trust me a bunch right now. You’re the best shot, Nad. She trusts you most.”

“What? No she doesn’t.” Nadiya looked skeptically from Kardala to Remy, who both nodded. “Fine,” she said, tossing the map to Addison. “Fine, fine, I’ll go.” She wrenched the car door open, got out, and slammed it closed again.

What if Mary Sage didn’t want to see her? What if she didn’t want to come back? What if she tried to kill Nadiya, like she had in Halleluland?

Nadiya set her shoulders. This was Mary Sage she was talking about. It would be fine. Probably. She walked over to the playground, climbed up the rubber steps. “Gospel Girl?” she tried, trying to stay firmly in what the fuck, man, and not edge into where are you please come out. No response. “Space Cadet?” She sighed. “Mary Sage?”

“Mary’s not here.”

Nadiya blinked, her mouth open. It felt, quite suddenly, as if she’d gotten all the air knocked out of her at the sound of Mary’s voice. She felt kind of like bursting into tears. Again.

She shook herself. No time to have a breakdown. This was about Mary Sage. She climbed another stair, then another, towards the turreted tower leading to an orange, spiraling slide.

“You sure?” Nadiya said, and there she was.

Mary Sage was curled up against the wall, holding her knees to her chest, her chin resting on them. “Yeah. Mary’s not here,” she repeated. “She’s… somewhere else.”

“Hey.” Nadiya sat down against the other wall, making the small, circular space very cramped. “Um… can she come back?”

“Maybe.” Mary Sage let out a shuddering sigh. “How’d you find me?”

“Drove around until the Suburbanites’ powers activated. Don’t know what we would’ve done if you hadn’t been nearby. How’d you get here from Vegas?”

“Hitchhiked.” Mary’s hair looked almost as matted and wild as it had in Halleluland, like she’d been tying it into knots. “Somebody… picked me up. Then another somebody. I dunno. I knew the… what’d you call ‘em? Suburbanites were around here. Addison and Flanagan. I could feel…”

“The bond,” Nadiya filled in. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Mary Sage made a tired gesture. “Didn’t wanna get too close, though.”

“We took a party bus,” Nadiya said. “It was cool, I guess.”

A smile flickered across Mary Sage’s face. “Sounds like fun.”

“It was a bit much for me,” Nadiya admitted. “Lots of gay people, though.”

“I woulda fit right in.” Mary Sage closed her unfocused eyes. “Sorry about… runnin’ off. I didn’t… couldn’t…”

“Yeah, that was kind of a dick move,” Nadiya said. But then she didn’t get a response. “Mary?”

“‘I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast; my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death,’” Mary Sage said. [Psalm 22:15-16 English Standard Version] And then she uncurled and crawled the foot or so across the space to Nadiya and wrapped her arms around her. “Thanks for comin’ for me, Nad,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Yeah… I mean, yeah, of course.” Nadiya ran her fingers uncertainly through Mary’s hair, trying not to tug on the tangles. What was she supposed to do? Irene was the one good at stuff like this, not her. Even Remy was better. Why had they sent her? “Yeah. I – we weren’t just going to leave you. Not look for you.”

“I know. And I know y’all aren’t with them,” Mary Sage said. “You don’t wanna hurt me. I know. But when Remy said all that shit… I dunno. My brain short-circuited.”

“It happens,” Nadiya said. “I guess. You okay now?”

Mary Sage shrugged and pressed herself closer to Nadiya, her glasses digging uncomfortably into Nadiya’s arm. “Maybe. I miss my folks. They knew what was up. Good people.”

“Mary, there’s something you need to know,” Nadiya said before she could lose her nerve. “Martine… isn’t in jail.”

She felt Mary Sage tense in her arms for a moment, then go limp. “Fuckin’ figures. I’m not surprised at this point. She’s too smart to get locked up.”

“That’s what Addison said,” Nadiya said.

“I bet she has somethin’ to do with my folks, too,” Mary Sage said. “If she had to do with Remy’s. He doin’ okay?”

“I think so?” Nadiya said. “I mean, I guess he’s fine. He kind of freaked out when you disappeared, but other than that…”

Mary Sage sighed. “I gotta apologize to him too. Shitty thing of me to pull. Shitty brain that told me it was a good idea.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nadiya said, all her frustration and worries and anger – at least all of it directed towards Mary – melting. Because it wasn’t her fault. “You’re back, that’s all that really matters.”

A smile traced over Mary Sage’s face. “Aw, Nad. You miss me?”

Nadiya’s face heated. Her first instinct was to deny it, but then she nodded. “Yeah. A lot,” she admitted. “Let me know next time if you feel like you have to run, okay? We’ll figure it out. I don’t want to l–” She swallowed. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Mary Sage’s smile softened. “No promises, but I’ll do my best.”

Nadiya let out a deep breath. “Okay, feelings time over. Reed Richards has hit her feelings quota for the day. We should get back to the others.”

“’Kay.” Mary Sage stood up, dragging Nadiya with her. “But I don’t wanna see Addison an’ Flanagan.”

Mary Sage leaned on Nadiya as they made their way out of the play structure and back towards the car. Remy was in the midst of getting out. When Remy saw Mary Sage, he lit up and jumped the entire last twenty feet to them, grabbing Mary in a giant hug. “You’re back!”

She laughed a little and shoved him off. “Yeah, I’m back. Sorry about runnin’ off like that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay,” Remy said, grinning from ear to ear. “Nad! Hey, Nad, so Addison and Flanagan said we should probably go find Grace? She can help, she and Jonesy were developing tech, blockers for the bonds. They said Grace took the others – Jonesy, Pridmore, and Abbey – and headed up to San Francisco.” Remy brandished a wad of cash and a piece of paper with an address written on it. “There’s a bus we can take, it leaves at six, goes straight through the night. Walking distance from here, which is good, ‘cause I don’t think the car would fit everybody. Kardala? You coming?”

The other car door opened. “Kardala is coming,” Kardala said, unfolding herself from the small space. She waved, and Addison and Flanagan waved back before pulling away.

“Kardala, whatcha got there?” Remy asked curiously. Nadiya looked, and realized Kardala was holding a small piece of paper.

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at – little man give that back –”

Remy already had it in his hand and was looking at it. “Is this Flanagan’s phone number?” he said in delight. “Does Flanagan like you?”

Kardala’s face was turning red as she snatched the paper back from Remy. “It matters not. I am a goddess, and she is mortal,” she proclaimed, but put the paper in her pocket.

Remy was still grinning. “Sure,” he said. “Bus stop’s this way. Kardala, you should, uh… probably turn back into Irene if we’re going to be around other people?”

Kardala heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, but by the time the sigh was over, she’d morphed into Irene. Nadiya noticed that the first thing Irene did was put a hand in her pocket.

“Bus stop?” Irene said.

“Yeah, just a regular one, though,” Remy said regretfully.

“If it gets us where we need to be,” Irene said.

Mary Sage squinted at her. “You’re Irene?”

“Oh, I guess we… haven’t met,” Irene said. “I’m Irene Baker. It’s nice to meet you, Mary.”

“Nice t’ meetcha as well,” Mary Sage said warily.

“All right… down this street a ways,” Irene said decisively. “It’s a bit of a walk. Everyone all right? Mary?”

“’M okay,” Mary Sage said.

“I have cheese crackers.”

“…Yeah. That’d be good.”

Irene grabbed a few packets of cheese crackers out of the side pouch of her bag and handed them over. “Onward and upward.”

[firethatgrewsolow]

Swiss Time - Chapter Seven

**Sorry for the delay!  And thank you @ladygrange for everything you do for me!  Hope you guys like it. <3**

Robert peered through the hotel window, the snow-capped mountains that had seemed so foreign to him when they arrived now a familiar comfort.  Their week was almost up, culminating in the show in a couple of days.  The time had flown by, and he realized that he was reluctant to leave.  A little, anyway.  He’d not seen Natalie since their castle adventure and subsequent dinner two nights before, and he found himself growing restless, even missing her a bit.  His gaze shifted to the streets below, dotted with shoppers and late lunch goers scurrying about.  A swirl of dark hair captured his attention, and he sat up, narrowing his eyes, only to fall back into the armchair as the woman turned around.  Definitely not Nat.  She was due to move over the weekend and would probably miss the gig, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.  He wanted to sing for her, see her light up as he knew she would.  He smiled, his mind returning to the impromptu performance on the way back from Chillon.  Christ, how stoned had he been?  But it didn’t matter.  Her laugh was all he’d wanted to hear.  Bloody hell, what are you doing?  The click of the door behind him dispensed with the reverie, and he glanced toward it as Jimmy shuffled in.

“So, did you and Natalie enjoy Chillon?  You didn’t mention going.”

Robert took in the guitarist’s mildly perturbed demeanor.  “I haven’t seen you since.  Where were you yesterday?”

Ignoring the question, Jimmy plowed on.  “Did you tour the torture chamber?  It’s supposed to be quite remarkable.”

“Nah, we, uh, didn’t make it there.”

“What a shame.  I’d heard it was not to be missed.”  Jimmy tapped his finger gently against his chin.  “Hmm, I wonder if she’d consider going again.”

“Not likely.”  Robert chuckled, kicking his feet up onto the ottoman.  “I think once might have been enough.  She knows a lot about it, though.  Said she was going to write an article for a magazine.”

“So, our little Natalie Grace is a writer, then?  I had no idea.  She is full of surprises.”

“Well, she’s shy about it, but she must be pretty good.  It’s for a children’s magazine, but a popular one.”  Robert cleared his throat, patting down his jacket for cigarettes.  “You know, um, she’s probably not coming to the gig.”

“Why is that?”

“School stuff.”  Spying Bonzo’s pack on the coffee table, he snatched it up.  “I’ve been trying to think up ways to convince her to stay.  When we were at dinner . . .”

“Dinner, too?” Jimmy asked, cocking his head.  “My, my, aren’t we getting chummy.”

“Well, seeing as how she was free for the evening since you didn’t have a date with her after all . . .” Robert trailed off, pointedly raising a brow.

Jimmy stared back in silence, finally breaking out into a grin.  “Couldn’t resist.”  He reclined onto the sofa. “ So, you have a thing for our girl, eh?”

“I could say the same for you.  Jesus Christ, Jim, she’s a kid.”

“Of course, I’m only joking.  You were talking about convincing her to stay?”  

“Yeah.”  Robert nibbled his lip, treading carefully.  “I was thinking that she could, well, maybe she could write about us.  Like an interview and a piece about the gig.”

“You mean a review of the show?” Jimmy scoffed with a terse laugh.  “That’s absurd.”

Robert shrugged his shoulders.  “Why?  What could it hurt?”

“What would she bloody know about any of it?”  

“She’s pretty smart.”  The singer pulled out a cigarette, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.  “And it might be nice to have her around.”  

Jimmy glanced to the window as a patter of rain hit the glass.  “She is nice to have around, I’ll give you that,” he murmured, the thread of something blooming in his mind.

“I’m sure she’d be complimentary,” Robert added, subtly emphasizing the word.  

Complimentary.  Jimmy pursed his lips, wheels in motion.  It wasn’t an entirely unpromising scenario.  In fact, it was somewhat intriguing.  A young, likely very malleable writer with a strong connection to a major music promoter.  Nobody would have to know that she was barely fifteen, nobody that mattered, anyway, and it would be a welcome change from the stodgy old fucks they always sent out to the gigs.  A friendly word in the local paper certainly wouldn’t do them any harm, and who knew where it could lead.  She wouldn’t be fifteen forever.  But that was down the road.  For now, at the very least, he would have a bit of fun with it.  “You know, I think you’re right.  That’s not a bad idea.  It’s actually a rather good one.”

Robert blinked, surprised by his friend’s acquiescence.  “So, should I ask her to do it?”

“Not directly,” Jimmy replied, shaking his head.  “Let me take care of it.”

“They want me to do what?”  Nat set down her teacup with a clatter, pushing her breakfast away.  “I’ve never done an interview.  I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Oh, it can’t be too hard,” Susan chided, waving her hand dismissively.  “Besides it’s the local paper.  You don’t have to be Hemingway.”

“Whose idea was this?”  Nat cut her eyes at her conspicuously quiet aunt.  “Well?  Whose?”

Susan hesitated, drumming her fingers on the dining room table.  “The paper’s editor, from what I understand.”

“Really?  So, I’m a fifteen year old nobody that’s hardly written anything, and somehow, mysteriously, I’m interviewing one of the biggest bands in the world?”

“Well, Christian is friends with . . .”

“Oh, no.”  Natalie grimaced, running a hand through her hair.  “You pulled some weird strings, didn’t you?  Susan, I don’t want to be that girl in school.  Half the kids will probably be going, and if they see this dumb interview, they’ll know that . . .”

“You’re a wonderful writer?” Sue finished, dropping a sugar cube into her tea.  “That’s what they’ll know.  As long as you don’t ask tough questions and give them a good review, you’re golden.”

“Review?  Of what?  I haven’t even listened to their full albums.”

Susan smiled coyly, stirring her steaming concoction.  “The show, darling.  Although, you should probably brush up on the records, too.”

Natalie’s jaw dropped.  “You want me to review the show?”

“Not me . . . them,” Sue purred, taking a sip of her tea.

“Them?  Oh, my God.  The editor had nothing to do with this. ��I knew there was something funny about all of it.”  Nat skimmed her thumb along the rim of her cup.  “Who is them?  Robert?”  Her aunt looked artfully away.  “Wait, it’s Jimmy, isn’t it?”

Susan abandoned her tea, making her way to the bar.  “At the end of the day, does it matter, Natalie?  Good lord, you’re impossible to please.  Maybe they just want to do something nice for you to help you out.  A burgeoning writer and all that business.  And what if it was Robert?  I assumed you had a nice time with him.  You have no idea how hard it was to sneak away without you seeing me at lunch the other day.”

“Sneak away?  What are you . . .” Nat’s jaw dropped again as it dawned on her.  “You saw him come up to me.  There was no meeting with the architect.”  She frowned at her aunt’s giddy grin.  “What are you, some kind of twisted matchmaker?  I’m only fourteen . . .”

“Fifteen, you just said so yourself,” Susan chimed, wagging a finger in the air.  “Jesus, Nattie, I’m not trying to get you two together in that way.  At least, not yet.”  She smirked, exchanging her teacup for a thin, crystal flute.  “Listen, it’s a fantastic opportunity.  They’re notoriously crafty with the press.  They rarely grant interviews, and they wanted you specifically.”  She held up her glass with a glimmer in her eye.  “And when the kids from school see you’ve interviewed the band, you’ll be an absolute queen on the campus.”

Queen on the campus?  Jesus Christ.  “But what about moving into the dorm?”

“We’ll figure something out.”  Hands on hips, Sue expelled a weary breath.  “You cannot possibly be trying to worm out of this.”

Nat sensed there was more to it than just a random act of kindness.  Altruism didn’t suit the band.  Surely an ulterior motive was involved, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it would be.  She slunk back into her chair, resigned to her fate.  Sue’s right.  What does it matter?  There were definitely worse things than spending time with four handsome, talented musicians.  And funny and sweet and silly . . .  She clenched her fists, crushing the thought.

“So, that’s a yes, I presume?” Susan beamed triumphantly.  “Perfect!  Their albums are in your room, along with a brand new record player.  Courtesy of Christian, of course.  I also pulled some clippings from my personal collection.  I like to keep an archive on the bands that I . . . particularly admire.”  Sue popped open a bottle of Champagne, pouring a long, fizzy stream.  “And don’t worry, love,” she cooed, peeking at her wristwatch.  “You’re not meeting with them for another five hours.  You’ve got all the time in the world.”

* * *

Natalie tapped her pen on the pages in front of her, exasperated beyond belief.  The interview was an unmitigated disaster.  Bonzo and Jonesy hadn’t even shown up, and getting answers out of Jimmy was like pulling teeth.  She’d spent every spare minute preparing, even gotten a tiny bit excited, and apparently, it was all for naught.  He didn’t want to talk about anything personal, and she’d been shunned when she asked about life on the road.  Everything seemed off limits.  What was the point, she mused dejectedly.  Hadn’t they been the ones who wanted to do it to begin with?  And in hostile territory, no less.  Her gaze roved over the guitarist’s candle laden suite, landing on a trio of half-melted pillars situated on the coffee table.  A small book lay beside them, tattered and torn, and she squinted in an effort to read the title.  His clipped cough brought her gaze back to his.  A reprimand for being curious, she determined as she scanned his blank visage.  Prickly didn’t seem to do him justice.  Maybe leave off the ly.  Hell, he’s probably enjoying this.  How in the world was she going to put any of it together?  She ran through the options one more time.  Influences, go back to influences.  “So, um, what inspires you?  Are all of you into the same kind of music?”

Sighing dramatically, Jimmy rolled his eyes.  “Oh, God, not that again.”

Nat cracked, finished with the cat and mouse game.  “Dammit, this was your idea!”  She threw down her pen.  “What do you want me to ask you, then?  I’ve heard a couple of things about a shark.”

“Natalie, dear, you do cut to the chase,” Jimmy hummed, amused at the rise he’d finally elicited.

“Let’s just say that I’ve done my homework.”  She crossed her arms, her gaze flickering back to the book on the table.  “Would you rather tell me about your interest in, uh, more spiritual matters?”

“Ooh, I see you have done your homework,” Jimmy replied smoothly.  “In that case, why don’t you tell me?”

Recognizing Natalie’s stormy scowl, Robert hurriedly intervened.  “Come on, Jim, just answer the questions.  We asked for this, remember?”  

“Ah, fair enough,” Jimmy conceded reluctantly.  “Pity it has to be so one sided.”  With another heavy sigh, he resettled into the sofa.  “Well, I’d say we all have different influences, to some degree.  There’s a melding here and there, but I think that’s what makes us able keep it fresh and interesting.”

Encouraged, Natalie leaned forward.  “There’s quite a lot of blues in your records so far.”

“Oh, yes, that’s the root of it, I suppose.”  Jimmy glanced to his bandmate, who was clearly champing at the bit to have a word.  “What say you, Robert?”

“What we’ve tried to do is to sort of reinterpret some of the stuff from America . . . Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf.  It’s endless, really.  All those sounds, we kind of spin it round and round until we take it somewhere else.”

“Right, the expansion of it.  That’s important.”  Jimmy crossed his legs.  “I want to create, well, we want to create something that’s dynamic and keep pushing boundaries.”  He paused for a moment, searching for the right words.  “Something heavy that strikes you, and just when you’ve reached the edge, it softens.  Or vise versa.”

“Light and shade,” Natalie offered, grateful that he'd begun to open up.

Jimmy exchanged a look with Robert.  “Exactly.”  He turned back to her with a devilish smile.  “Sort of like making love.”

Natalie swiftly dropped her head, praying that the lighting was dim enough to hide the blush she felt racing onto her cheeks.  Her saving grace was Peter, who lumbered into the room.

“Let’s go, lads, interview’s over.  Ahmet just got back, and they’re ready.”

More than a little relieved, Nat closed her notebook and capped her pen.  “Thanks for taking the time.”  Even though it was mostly a waste of it.  She shoved them both into her satchel as Robert bounded up to her.

“Would you like to come and watch?  We’re just gonna run through some stuff, sort of a sound check.  It won’t last long.”  He held out his arm, his dimple deepening.  “I’ll take a request, if you like.”

Her lips curved at the prospect.  What did she have to lose?  “Sure.  Lead the way.”

Arm in arm, they plodded out of the room and into the hall.  As they reached the elevator, Robert peered behind him for the others, but they were still in the suite.  He punched the button, secretly hoping it would make haste so he could have her to himself for a few minutes.  His wish granted, the car arrived almost immediately, and he hustled on, selecting his destination as quickly as he could.  He caught a glimpse of Peter and Jimmy in the distance as the doors slid blessedly shut.  Mission accomplished, they were alone.  “You, uh, seem to know a lot more about us than I thought.  Very impressive.”

“I did some research,” Nat replied, basking in the warmth of his sideways smile.  “Aunt Sue is a pretty good resource.  Keeps tabs on certain groups that she finds . . . stimulating.”

“I bet she’s got quite a file.”  They shared a muted laugh.  “I take it you’ve listened to the albums?”

“Um, yeah, that would be part of my research.”

“Right.  Of course.”  Robert quietly cleared his throat.  “So, ah, what’s your favorite song?”  

Natalie pursed her lips as their eyes met.  “Moby Dick, I think.”

“The one about the whale, huh?” Robert teased, the corner of his mouth curling up.

“The one with no vocals,” she shot back with a smirk.

“Ouch, that hurt.”  Robert clamped his hand over his heart, and they shared another laugh.  “You know, you did a good job back there with Jimmy.”

Natalie snorted, shaking her head.  “You must be kidding.  I hardly got anything out of him.”

“You got more than most, believe it or not.”  A ping in the car signaled that they’d reached the first floor.  “Pagey likes you.  I can tell.”

“Good God, what does he do to the people he doesn’t like?”

Robert snickered as the elevator doors surged open.  “Nothing.  That’s what.”  

They navigated through the lobby and into the casino, winding around the masses and entering a cavernous room toward the back of it.  Natalie slowly canvassed the drafty space, examining the ancient looking wooden planks that made up the ceiling.  They were cracked and peeling, in need of a facelift.  Hell, a full renovation, really.  “It’s like a matchbox in here.”  She meandered to the wide glass windows overlooking the pool, which was empty, save for a fully clothed woman reading a book.  “Are you guys all set up?”

The floor squeaked underneath Robert’s feet as he padded to the front of the stage, inspecting the equipment.  “Yeah, looks like everything’s here.”  He gave her a wide grin.  “So, what would you like to hear?”

“I don’t know.”  Natalie surveyed the scene, nodding at Jonesy and Bonzo as they passed by.  “This is kind of a lot.”

“If you’re going to be a music journalist, you might want to get used to it.”

Natalie jumped at Jimmy’s words right behind her.  Shit!  Where had he come from?  Probably just thin air.  She spun around, her brow wrinkling.  “A music journalist?  Who said that?  I write articles about castles and history, not . . .”

“This is history, history in the making, darling, and you’re in the center of it all.  It’s fate.  Can’t you see that?  You’d be a fool not to take advantage of your position.”

Nat studied the guitarist warily, at that point quite sure that there was more to the situation than met the eye.  As she pondered her response, he turned on his heel, making his way to the stage.  A group of men in suits were taking their seats beside the platform as pops of bass and the rattle of drums shook the rafters.  Grabbing the microphone, Robert sidled up next to Jimmy, and the four musicians engaged in a few seconds of hushed deliberation.

“As it appears that our little Natalie can’t make up her mind what to request, I think, ah, I think we’ve got something to dedicate to her, yeah?”

The opening strains of Chuck Berry’s “Nadine” filled the room, and Natalie giggled as Robert substituted her name instead.  It was a rowdy, lighthearted rendition, and she was reminded of his silly serenade two nights before.  How anyone could classify him a some Rock God or sex symbol was beyond her.  He was simply too goofy for the label.  At the end of the song, they launched right into a poppy Elvis tune, and then another that she remembered as a child.  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught shifting shadows at the door to the theater.  She watched Robert nod to the large man that was serving as a guard of sorts, and people began to file in.  She pored over their faces, some giddy, some disbelieving, all transfixed as the Elvis number morphed into Buffalo Springfield, which somehow seamlessly transformed into a rollicking “Good Golly Miss Molly.”  It was evident that the boys were completely attuned to each other.  It was tight, but still lively and fun.  They were obviously a great band, but as she followed Robert’s bouncing figure across the stage, she couldn’t help but wonder what all the fuss was about.

Robert beamed, flushed from the applause and cheers of the burgeoning audience.  He glided his eyes over the crowd, delighting in their delight at the unexpected show.  “We’d like to do one more.  It’s from the first LP, and it’s something I hope you’ll like.”  His gaze landed on Natalie at the foot of the stage.  “Particularly one of you.”

Nat could feel the stares of those around her, and she grinned as he winked at her, his gravelly voice cutting through the din.

“I can’t . . . quit you, baby . . .”

In an instant, her grin vanished.  This was different than the other songs.  Very.  Her body shook from the ear shattering boom of Bonzo’s drums and the thunderous bass and guitar that accompanied it.  

“Woman, I think I’m gonna put you down . . . for a little while . . .”

Robert’s wail made her mouth fall open as a wall of sound like she’d never heard before roared around her.  Bluesy and seductive, it enveloped her, heart and soul, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.  He was nothing like the silly serenader on the trail.  This side of him was new, completely alien to her.  She swallowed as a wave of heat rippled through her, a current of electricity the likes of which she didn’t know existed.  As her wide eyes locked on his knowing ones, she finally remembered to breathe.  Jimmy was right.  History was in the making.  And she fully intended to take a piece of it for herself.