#if these are correct i love the subtle hint of more local details

[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (10/18)

Chapter 10: Your Head Always Loses

Madelyn returns to the New England Medical Center, and coordinates with Sergeant Danny Sullivan to keep Nick safe while the hunt for Eddie Winter continues. After delivering heart-breaking news to her partner, she travels to the state house to speak with Hancock and MacCready in the hopes they may have a lead. Later, while mourning their loved ones in a downtown church, Madelyn learns a new truth about Deacon.

“When your head says one thing and your whole life says another, your head always loses.” - Frank McCloud as played by Humphrey Bogart (Key Largo, 1948)

[read on Ao3] x  [chapter masterpost]

April 14th, 1958

By the time Madelyn and Deacon reached the New England Medical Center, the entire plaza had been barricaded, swarms of police vehicles surrounding the building while uniformed officers patrolled the perimeter, denying entry to anyone without hospital authorization. Local newshounds had crowded the emergency bay as well, clamoring for an interview with passing investigators and doctors. The chaos was more than Madelyn anticipated, the police attendance more abundant than she’d seen in recent months. The Boston Police department had been slow to respond to the increase in crime; disappearances, kidnappings and murders, most, if not all related to the gangland fight for territory. Rampant corruption had everything to do with their indifference—nearly the entire city had been bought out by Eddie Winter. She had every right to be suspicious of their presence, unsure of who to trust.

Piper had instructed them to enter through the side entrance, but Madelyn wasn’t convinced they’d be let through. Even if she managed to push forth some charm and use her credentials from the District Attorney’s office, it wasn’t a guarantee. The two circled the crowd, looking for a way forward. While Madelyn scanned the sea of people for a familiar face, she couldn’t help but glance to Deacon, who was uncharacteristically keeping his distance a few paces behind. He had donned his black wig and shielded his eyes, hiding any trace of the man she’d seen in her bed when she awoke just a few hours prior. For all the times he’d shown her comfort in the past, he wouldn’t touch her now, hadn’t done so since she roused from fainting.

The usually chatty Railroad agent was quiet now too, hardly speaking a word as they traveled from her apartment to downtown. Combined with the grief of Jenny’s death, Nick’s fate, and Winter’s whereabouts, Madelyn couldn’t make room in her heart for the turmoil their rift caused her. Separated by a few inches, it might as well have been miles with how her chest was aching. She clenched her fist, nails biting into her palms so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach out to him, desperate as she was to feel his hand in hers.

As they approached the entrance, a police officer predictably held them back with an outstretched hand, silently deferring to the throng of reporters. Madelyn dug through her purse for her identification, but the cop would not take the paper documentation, or give it a second glance.

“My partner is Nick Valentine, he’s a patient here. Jennifer Lands is—” she hesitated—was—and found her voice again. “Please, you have to let us through.”

The officer shook his head. “Ma’am, this is a secure scene. We’ve had enough loonies try and make their way into the E.R. this morning, we don’t need another one.”

He turned away, dismissing her in full. If she wasn’t frustrated before, she was now. Before she could argue or suggest that Deacon make himself useful and distract the guard so she could slip inside, another person came rushing towards them with enthusiasm. The man was shorter than her, and looked fresh out of college, baby-faced without a hint of stubble. He stuck out his arm, correcting his stance when he realized he’d shoved his notepad in her direction instead.

“Buster Connolly with the Boston Bugle,” he greeted in a rushed voice, as if his press credentials weren’t pinned to his coat. “Did you say you were with Nick Valentine? I could’ve sworn I recognized you! You’re the broad he’s always with, right?”

Beside her, Deacon bristled, but remained silent. She smiled politely, used to the microaggressions based on her gender that almost always erased her career accomplishments. Did anybody remember she was a lawyer anymore? Judging by how young Mr. Connolly was, his mishap was forgivable. Still, she was wary of his sudden interest and refrained from greeting him in kind—the Boston Bugle had its own problems with corruption when it came to covering Eddie Winter’s crimes.

Buster anxiously glanced to his notes. “Can you confirm the validity of the rumors that Eddie Winter was shot and injured sometime within the last forty-eight hours, and that there is currently a manhunt underway to locate him?”

Madelyn maintained composure, even as the memory came back in full force, flashes of Winter taunting her as he crushed her windpipe until she found the strength to fight back. Regret gripped at her with vice-like talons—if her aim had been deadlier, Buster wouldn’t be asking her these questions. If she’d had the nerve to kill him when she had the chance, Jenny would be alive.

“No comment,” Deacon answered for her, and she nearly flinched when his hand rested softly on the small of her back.

The young reporter frowned, flipping through more pages. “I have been tracking leads and rumors all across town, following the Valentine Detective Agency’s progress. Seems to me you’re the only ones that give a damn. There’s way more than what the police and media are telling us, but the higher-ups won’t let me publish anything on a whim.”

“I don’t have the same freedoms as that Public Occurrences paper does,” he lamented, practically staring at her in a similar way Dogmeat would when begging for table-scraps. “You gotta help me out. Is what they’re saying true? Is Eddie Winter behind everything that’s gone wrong in Boston?”

Piper’s voice echoed in her mind—freedom of the press—and she nodded.

“Yes,” she responded. “Yes, its all true.”

Buster scrambled to a fresh page, eager to write down the details, but he wouldn’t get a chance. The officer at the side entrance turned to face them again, pointing at her and Deacon.

“Miss Hardy was it?” he questioned, sheepishly. “I’ve been instructed to let you by. Sergeant Sullivan is inside waiting. He’s should be at the nurse’s station.” He instructed, pulling back one of the barricades so they could step through. “I uh…sorry about before.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

Just as Madelyn stepped through the doorway, she looked back to Buster, who was observing the entire exchange from the sidewalk. “Write the article.”

The inside of the hospital was just as bustling as it had been outside, nurses and doctors scrambling to work around the cops and detectives crowding the halls. Last night the emergency room had been a ghost town, but today almost every bay was occupied with freshly injured. In the center of it all, Sergeant Danny Sullivan stood, directing his men to different areas of the building and reading over reports passed to him by passing officers.  

“What the hell happened?” Deacon muttered, surveying the mayhem.

Madelyn wondered the same, moving to where the Chief Sergeant was dismissing the last of his force. “…and send an extra squad to city hall. Don’t know if the bastard is brazened enough to attack the mayor, but after this…”  

Sullivan rubbed at his jaw, deep in thought before performing a double-take in Madelyn’s direction. Instantly, his expression transformed into one of deep sorrow—a look she was all too familiar with. She wasn’t about to dismiss his sympathy, however, regardless of how new their alliance was.

“Miss Hardy,” he sighed, with a small shake of his head. “I didn’t think we’d be seeing each other again so soon, under such…grim circumstances.” His eyes flickered to where Deacon stood to her left, his hand still pressed against her back. “Is this your…?”

Sullivan’s subtle suggestion made Deacon drop his arm to the side, and she straightened, sucking in a breath so she wouldn’t overreact. In the past, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to joke about being her significant other. Given the situation, it hardly seemed appropriate now. Nevertheless, the loss of contact left her cold. She steadied her resolve, knowing it was not the time to worry about her tumultuous feelings for the man.

“Sergeant Sullivan,” she greeted with a small gesture. “This is Deacon. I may have mentioned his work with the agency.”

“What is it that you do, exactly?” Sullivan asked, light eyes studying him carefully from head to toe as they shook hands.  

Deacon offered a small shrug, a glimmer of his usual self shining through. “That’s a need to know basis.”

Madelyn redirected the conversation, needing answers to the questions burning in her mind. “What happened?” she asked, voice breaking as she fought back a sudden wave of emotion.

Sullivan released a long sigh. “What we gathered from witness reports is that a group of Winter’s men attacked the hospital just before daybreak. They took hostages, including Miss Lands. A police force showed up, but it was a mix of his pocketed men and straight cops. All hell broke loose as soon as I arrived on scene.”

He pointed to the various medical bays. “We’ve got a few downed officers, two nurses, and one of Eddie’s,” he swallowed, the grim expression returning. “One fatality.”

Jenny.

Madelyn nodded, shifting her gaze to a far corner where the lights were dimmed, curtains drawn tight to prevent entry. Outside, two heavily armed officers stood guard, giving the appearance they were protecting a priceless set of jewels rather than a corpse. Jennifer Lands was precious, however, deserving of such safeguarding. The guilt threatened to suffocate Madelyn as she thought—if only Jenny had been under such careful protection when she was alive.

“Where’s Nick?” she barely managed to ask.

“Safe. He woke up an hour ago,” he explained with a deep frown. “He doesn’t know about…” Sullivan shifted uncomfortably. “He’s under the impression we’re here because it was a failed attack on his life.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t?” Madelyn countered.

“Until Winter is caught, I don’t think any of us are safe,” he responded. The sergeant further contemplated her question, fingers tapping at his chin. “I’d like to move him to a new, secure location, but I’m not sure if he’ll agree.”

At least Sullivan understood who he was working with. Nick wasn’t conscious when she’d set up their arrangement, and even before the Eddie Winter case, had never gotten along with the sergeant or Boston’s finest. Considering he was awaking to a new reality in which Eddie Winter was still free and his fiancé was dead, Madelyn wasn’t sure how her partner would react.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said, realizing she’d be the one to tell him about Jenny’s fate—a heavy burden, but it wouldn’t be right if the news came from anyone else.

Sergeant Sullivan escorted the two around the nurse’s station to the opposite side of the emergency bay, to the farthest room with a door. The blinds in the window had been drawn shut, either to stop bystanders from peeking in, or to prevent Nick from seeing more than necessary. A well-dressed detective stood guard, nodding to his superior as they approached. On the other side of the door, a body stood from the row of waiting-room chairs.

“Blue?”

Madelyn didn’t hesitate to embrace Piper as her friend rushed towards over, arms wrapping around her in a tight circle. The usually sarcastic and chipper reporter was now sobbing, face burrowed in the fabric of her friend’s coat. Madelyn consoled her, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over—if she lost poise now, she’d never be able to face Nick.

“It all happened so fast,” Piper’s muffled voice whispered by her ear. “Jenny—she, she’d stepped out for only a minute and the next thing I knew, Winter’s men were attacking. I shouldn’t have let her out of sight—”

Madelyn hushed her, wanting to take away the blame. If anyone was responsible, it was her—for letting Eddie Winter escape and live out his revenge plot fantasies. Nobody else deserved to shoulder the weight of that blame. Piper slowly pulled away, rubbing at her eyes before releasing a shaky breath. She regarded the two men standing astride with mild discontent but quickly refocused on Madelyn.

“I couldn’t tell Nick,” she spoke, the devastation and exhaustion clear. “He was too delirious, wanting an update on Winter, asking about you…” Piper pursed her lips, preventing herself from weeping once more. “Asking for Jenny.”

There was no stopping the tears now, hazing her vision as she blinked them away so they’d slide down her cheeks. With a small nod, she moved to open Nick’s door, but Piper stopped her, turning her away for one last hushed exchange of words.

“Did—did something happen between you and Deacon?” she asked, glancing over her friend’s shoulder to where he was standing out of earshot with Sergeant Sullivan. Was it that obvious? Madelyn didn’t have the time to explain it was more of a non-event that was causing the palpable tension in the air.

She frowned, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Not now.”

For once, Piper didn’t dig for more information. The two exchanged one last solemn look before Madelyn slowly let herself into the hospital room. The fluorescent lighting wasn’t as harsh in the small space, but the smell of antiseptic tickled her nose. Nick was propped up in the bed, the thick swath of bandages visible through his gown. He was still connected to an IV, and judging by the way his head rolled, they were keeping his pain managed.

“Hey doll,” he rasped, the green of his eyes dull when they slid open to look at her in the doorway. “Why all the tears?” his lips pulled to the side in some semblance of a smirk. “I’ve never felt better.”  

God—she choked back a sob—she was going to break his heart, and her own in the process. Hesitantly, she approached and stood next to the bed, gasping when his hand reached out grasp hers. Her knees were trembling—hell, her whole body was shaking with the overwhelming anxiety of what she had to say. Nick’s eyebrows furrowed, sensing there was something wrong. He studied her face, eyes lingering across the bruises around her neck. But she shook her head, preventing him from speaking.

“Nick,” she gripped his hand tighter, bracing herself to that spot. “I—I’m so sorry—”

He was perplexed. “What? What for?”

Madelyn didn’t miss a beat. “Jenny.”

It was all she needed to say.

Nick squeezed her hand hard—reactionary—and then simply let go. She watched his face, the clench of his jaw as the realization set in. Their eyes met, silently confirming the horrible truth—Jenny, his Jenny was dead. Madelyn had never seen Nick cry, but there was a first time for everything. Silent, as they streamed down his face and left tracks on his skin. She hadn’t known what to expect, but somehow, the subdued reaction was all the more unnerving—like his soul had departed, leaving behind an empty shell.

Then, he asked the inevitable. “Where is Winter?”

Unable to hide the truth from him, she answered honestly. “I don’t know.”  

Nick recoiled, expression swiftly shifting as the anger bubbled to the surface. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I—” Madelyn gaped, stumbling over what to say. “I shot him.”

She left out the details in-between, even though the marks on her skin were clear as day. She continued, struggling to stay in check—quickly spiraling when it wasn’t fair to Nick, who had every right to his emotions.

“I had to help save you,” she explained, tentatively resting her hand against his arm. “He—he got away.”

“He should be dead!” Nick barked, tearing away from her.

Madelyn flinched at the sound of his voice, echoing through the room. She couldn’t deny him the rage, however—he was right—and it was her fault. No explanation or apologies would ever suffice for the grief she’d caused. Nick started to shift from the bed, blinded by his fury.

“I’m going to find that bastard and blow his brains out!”

The door to the hospital room swung open, two nurses shooing Madelyn away as they practically pushed Nick back into the bed, one deftly administering a sedative that had him complacent within moments, and unconscious the next. Piper and Sullivan stood in the doorway, watching intently, parting to make room for her exit. She nearly collapsed in the closest chair but knew she couldn’t succumb to the darkness yet.

“Do you have any leads on Winter’s possible location?” she asked, surprising the two with her demeanor.

“Miss Hardy, I’ve got the rest of my best men working this, and officers on loan from Salem and Nahant combing the city,” he explained, trying to set her at ease. “You don’t need to do the legwork anymore.”

“Yes,” she argued, glancing to Piper who understood the determination and remorse she was carrying. “Yes I do.”

The reporter nodded at the sergeant. “We have our own resources. Our own informants. Blue just might turn up something your best men can’t.”

Sullivan relented with a long sigh. “Please, at least take a police escort—”

“No,” she protested, flicking her gaze to where Deacon was leaning against the opposite wall, expression unreadable as ever. That is, until she spoke, and his lips twisted into a frown. “I need to do this alone.”

The group said nothing, though she wondered if any of them truly agreed with her sentiment. Regardless, she had a plan, and needed to follow through with it.

“I’ve placed my faith in you Danny,” she said, glancing back into Nick’s room with a solemn expression. The sergeant silently nodded, understanding her meaning. “Don’t make me question that choice.”

The Old State House used to be the seat of Massachusetts government, until the New State House was built to replace it, standing tall for over a century. While Mayor McDonough occupied the new building and city hall, the Old State House doubled as a museum and John Hancock’s base of operations. One of the last places of refuge in Scollay Square, the mayor’s brother had built a reputation for himself as a trusted member of society. Still a somewhat shady character—you wouldn’t want to double-cross him—but he took care of his own. Fed the hungry, ran grassroot campaigns for the underprivileged, and was currently running a fierce campaign in an effort to kick the older McDonough from office. While Madelyn had limited run-ins with the man in the past, she knew he was somebody she could trust. Especially when it came to helping Nick and hunting down Eddie Winter.

Of the people, for the people—she regarded the red banner strung from the overhead balcony before entering the building, noting the sign that directed her upstairs if she was looking for ‘the offices of Mr. Hancock’. On the second story landing, she was greeted by a familiar face, though his actions were troublesome.

“Robert?”

MacCready grimaced at the formal use of his name, briefly pausing in his pacing to regard her as he took a long drag of his cigarette. He had never quite looked his age, but right now, he looked even worse for wear.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, glancing around. “Is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” he responded, shaking his head. “Heard what happened at the hospital. To Nick,” he frowned, stopping to frown. “To Jenny.”

“But Eddie Winter is still out there? And here I am, a rat that helped you guys chase him down!” he continued, rushing through his words as he smoked through one cigarette and lit another. “I could be next!”

Madelyn sighed, wringing her hands together as she listened to the fear in his voice. Sullivan had made a similar notion—nobody was safe. As long as Eddie Winter remained free, anybody could be his next victim. She was about to offer her sympathy when the door behind him creaked open, revealing Hancock.

“Look who it is,” he greeted with an easy grin. By his side, a young boy was holding his hand, nervously hiding behind the trail of his red coat. “Did I mention how your pacing is scaring the kid?”

MacCready straightened, flicking his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, snubbing it out with his boot. “Sorry.”

“You ask me to babysit, and this is the thanks I get?” Hancock softly laughed, encouraging the young boy to step out from behind him. He crossed over to the mercenary, gripping his hand instead, switching his curious gaze towards Madelyn.

“This is Duncan, my son,��� MacCready explained. “Can you say hi to the pretty lady?”

She smiled, maybe for the first time that day as Duncan waved his little fingers in her direction. “Hello.”

Hancock noticed her disposition and waved her over to his office. “Okay, the grownups are going to chat now,” he teased, earning an eyeroll from MacCready. “Bye-bye Duncan!”

“Bye-bye, John,” the little boy responded. “Bye-bye, pretty lady.”

Hancock hovered his arm around her waist as he led her inside, gesturing her to sit in the large, leather chair before his desk. Instead of sitting in his chair, he leaned against the sturdy oak, and crossed his arms.

“First, I want to offer my condolences,” he said, lips twisting into a grimace. “I know Nicky and I aren’t close, but it ain’t right what they did to Jenny.”

Madelyn nodded, twisting her fingers into the fabric of her dress. “That’s why I’m here, actually.”

“What, for sympathy?” Hancock smirked.

“No,” she furrowed her brows, remembering how difficult the man could be. “For help. Eddie Winter. He’s still out there. I want to know if you know anything, if you’ve heard anything.”

Hancock’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise, but he relaxed. “That’s a big ask, sister. But I’m happy to oblige. Winter is no friend of mine.”

“There were rumors that the police knew Eddie was planning on going after Valentine and Jenny, but it seemed so outrageous that nobody wanted to believe he’s be so brazen to go after a civilian.”

Madelyn knew there was truth to that based on the holotape with Eddie Winter’s vague threat. To hear there was more behind his recorded warnings, that the police knew—she was horrified. Though, it explained why so many corrupt officers showed up at New England Medical Center, only to cornered by Sullivan and his team. Jenny’s death, it seemed, was inevitable.

“I’m going to say something controversial, but hey, its kind of my shtick,” Hancock shrugged. “Did you ever stop to think Jenny was allowed to die, so they’d have something concrete to go after Winter for? This city doesn’t give a shit about mobsters being offed. But a beautiful, innocent dame?”

He cocked his head to the side, raising his hands. “Talk of the town.”

Her gut reaction was to stand and punch the blonde man’s grin off of his face. Reason and sensibility held her back as she thought about what he was suggesting. One person came to mind.

“Do you know anybody at the Boston Bugle?”

“Why?”

Madelyn shifted in her seat. “If we can’t find Winter the old-fashioned way, it’s time to lure him out. Scare him out with what we know. Piper’s tried with her smear campaigns, but it isn’t enough.”

Hancock nodded, understanding where she was heading. “Yeah, I got connections. And if they aren’t willing, I can be…persuasive.”

She stood, grasping his hand in a firm handshake. Surprisingly, the man pulled her into a loose hug, patting her affectionately on the back. When he pulled away, there was a subdued smile pulling at his lips.

“Whatever you need, sister.”

It was late by the time Madelyn left the Old State House, and common sense told her it was best to head home. Yet, she refused a ride from Hancock and neglected to share a cab with MacCready, insisting she would be fine on her own as she wandered aimlessly down the sidewalk. Walking alone in the dead of night in Boston Common—any rational person would call her crazy. Maybe she had a death wish. Or maybe, she was hoping Eddie Winter would surprise her from some dark alleyway and she’d get a second chance at taking him down. Realistically, though, she wasn’t sure if she’d be capable even if with a new opportunity for revenge. That belonged to Nick, and Nick alone.

Madelyn headed west, lingering for a long moment by the park gates. She hadn’t been there since early January, and before then, she had avoided the area ever since Nate’s murder. Instead of drifting towards the spot in the street where she’d lost a part of herself years ago, she stared down at the strip of red brick that signified the Freedom Trail. She studied the bronze plate, frowning at the red paint that had faded over time.

“Dame like you shouldn’t be out this late.”

Deacon. She twisted around to find him leaned against the nearest streetlight, hands tucked deep into his coat pockets. It mirrored their first—second—meeting, albeit the tone and dynamic between them had changed significantly since that cold, snowy night. Even so, she was glad to see him, heart a nervous pitter-patter in her chest when she thought about the circumstances keeping them apart.

“Nice to know you’re still following me around,” she responded lightheartedly, offering a small smile.

He approached—careful measured steps before he was standing in front of her with a similar, hesitant expression. “Of course,” he replied. “Someone’s got to.”

“Come on,” he said next, raising his arm to silently encourage her to link elbows.

Madelyn reciprocated, savoring the sensation, unsure of how long the physical contact would last. They had crossed an unspoken boundary—almost kissed—and now, she feared their bond would never be the same. It was selfish of her to want more, how greedy she felt to have his hands on her body, but it wasn’t meant to be. For now, she’d take what little comfort she could get.

She didn’t ask him where they were going as he led them further away from Boston Common, closer to Trinity Plaza and the library. It wasn’t until they circled the street corner and paused that she realized his intended destination—Trinity Church. The tall building, with its exquisite arches and stonework, stained glass windows shimmering in the moonlight stood as a sanctuary in the center of the Back Bay district. A beacon of hope to many, but to Madelyn, the sight made her anxious.

“Come on,” Deacon encouraged again, gently tugging her along when her feet didn’t budge from the sidewalk. She steadied herself, gripping his arm tight as she moved. If this is where he wanted to go, then she could find the resolve to follow.

Inside, the church was devoid of congregants, the lone priest silently acknowledging the two as they passed through the corridor and between the many rows of pews. Deacon led her towards the front corner of the expansive building, their footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceiling as they went. He stopped before the small dais of burning votive candles and shifted his arm to gently hold her hand. Growing up in a devoutly Catholic home, she was more than familiar with their intended use, and figured Deacon shared a similar upbringing—with all his biblical references and insistence on Railroad safehouse locations being abandoned churches, she’d be surprised if that turned out to be another one of his lies. She was only confused as to why he’d brought them there now. Madelyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d prayed, let alone in a church, and she hadn’t lit a candle for someone since Nate’s funeral. The memory had her trembling, squeezing Deacon’s hand so she wouldn’t collapse to the floor in a fit of tears.

“Remember when I said it couldn’t get much worse?” Madelyn recalled, swallowing the lump in her throat as she watched the flickering flames. “I’m afraid I was lying.”

“I do it all the time,” he responded with a cynic, half-smile and then reached out for a loose taper, passing one to her free hand. She dipped the end into the flame before passing it along to a new candle, watching as the wick ignited.

“For Nick,” she whispered, repeating the action for another name, the prayer silent in her mind. “For Jenny,” her voice wavered as she thought about how fresh that grief was. Some wounds never healed. Her vision was hazy with tears when she spoke again, lighting one last candle. “For Nate.”

Deacon’s grip on her hand tightened and she glanced to him, watching intently as he mimicked her movements, lighting his own candle. She figured that lone flame signified all the Railroad lives that had been lost—friends and colleagues that he couldn’t protect—like High Rise, or Henry.

He sighed. “For Barbara.”

Madelyn stared at his profile, unable to respond. An overwhelming sense of curiosity was begging her to ask—but she remained silent, releasing a shaky breath only when she realized she’d been holding it in. He turned his head, ever so slightly, and she knew he was looking at her through the darkened shades. She could feel the rapid beat of his pulse along his wrist, terrified he would pull away. But he stayed perfect still, just watching her.

“I’m a liar,” he suddenly spoke, not in the usual teasing manner he admitted to. This was anguish—regret. “Everybody knows it. I make no secret of it. Because the truth is, I’m a fraud. To my core.”

She didn’t know what to say, baffled at where this sorrow was coming from. Then again, maybe the events of the last few days, weeks and months had finally caught up to Deacon, and she had been the catalyst. Pushing him too far by asking too much of him, revealing too much of his true self. As if she didn’t have enough regrets.

“When I was young—God, how long ago now—I was…” he winced, eyebrows knitting together. “I was scum. Violent—”

Madelyn interjected. “We all make mistakes.”

“These weren’t just mistakes,” he protested. “You have no idea what I did.”

She gave him the chance to explain, and he did, continuing with a heavy sigh.

“Freshman year at Massachusetts Bay, I ran with a gang,” he started. “This was when all the crime families still had their footholds in Boston, and the Gunners had their fair share of crime statistics. We were the University Point Deathclaws—sounds cliché, but we were ruthless. Terrorized South Boston and Quincy just as much as those Gunner bastards.”

“Were you really that bad?” she asked, chest tightening. Madelyn wasn’t sure if it was in fear of the truth, or sadness that he’d held this back from her for so long.

“Worse,” Deacon muttered, turning away. “We kept egging each other on. Started with some property damage, graduated to some beat downs. Then, inevitably, a murder.”

Madelyn refrained from reacting, even though her heart was racing—so loud, she could hear it pounding in her ears. He had to be selling her another one of his lies, but there was a certain level of sincerity in his tone that told her otherwise. It was all true. He didn’t say anything for a long time, fingers twitching in her grasp, unable to look in her direction.

“Believe me when I say I didn’t know what they had planned to do that night until I was called up to help dispose of the body. That was enough for me,” his jaw tightened. “It was his eyes. Those eyes haunt me.”

Deacon continued, the burning candles reflecting off his shades. “As soon as I was able, I turned my brothers in, turned witness for the prosecution, and walked away scot free. It wasn’t fair, but back then, I only cared about getting as far away from the Deathclaws as possible. I broke all contact, transferred to D.C. and moved on with my life.”

“Then one day I found someone,” he said, pausing to release an uneven breath. “She saw something in me I didn’t know was there. Barbara, well, she was…She just was. I didn’t deserve her, but I married her all the same.”

Madelyn swallowed down the pain that burned at her throat, unable to ignore the way her stomach twisted into knots. Another woman—a woman who had loved him, and who he had loved in return. She cursed at the jealous thoughts running through her mind, knowing she had no right to them. Not when she had experienced a similar past—a profound love that had slipped through her fingers, lost forever.

“We were trying for kids,” he admitted, digging the knife in further—but he had no way of knowing that she and Nate had similar plans before his death. “Being with her made me feel like the whole world had a chance. She could do that to people.”

It was incredibly difficult to force herself to speak, to sound genuine. “She sounds special.”

“She was,” he responded. “The Claws found out about where I was, came to get their revenge. There was…blood.”

“I—I’m so sorry,” her breath left her in a strangled gasp. Even though she could infer the answer, she had to ask. “They…they killed her?”

Deacon glanced her way. “Yes.”

“I don’t remember much clearly after that. I know I killed most of them—self-defense maybe, but I must’ve made a big impression. The Railroad made contact, helped me disappear. They were sympathetic, seeing I’d just lost my wife. And, well, what I did afterwards.”

“I had no idea,” she murmured, shellshocked by his confession. He’d killed—found the revenge she’d been denied after losing a beloved—she wasn’t sure if she should be terrified of him, or in awe.

“Nobody does,” Deacon replied, nearly broken. Her heart leapt at the realization—she was the only one that knew. “I don’t even know why I lie anymore. But I can’t tell the truth. Everyone—Tom, Dez, Carrington, you…” he trailed off with a despondent sigh. “They deserve to be in the Railroad. I don’t. I’m everything wrong with this whole fucking Commonwealth, just as bad as Winter’s men who’ve been murdering and corrupting the city.”

“Charmer, you’re—” He squeezed her hand like it was the only thing keeping him rooted to that spot. “I don’t deserve—”

The words died on his tongue, leaving her to speculate what he couldn’t say. Madelyn always knew they were two sides to the same coin but didn’t realize how alike their pasts were. They had walked mirrored paths to end up in that exact moment, clasped hand-in-hand like two converging souls finding their way back to one another. Nothing had ever left her so confused, yet so full of clarity at the same time, every past flicker of emotion she’d held for him validated in one single moment. Fate had brought them together—a cruel fate—but fate nonetheless, and Madelyn didn’t want to let go.

“Why tell me the truth now?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Deacon’s response was an action—simple enough—the gentle swipe of his thumb across her fingers, over the spot where she should’ve been wearing her wedding ring. She understood immediately, thinking back to the shared moment in her apartment and his hesitation to kiss her. But now, he’d lowered his emotional guard, let her beyond the walls where no one had been in years. He needed her to accept him for who he was—not just devoid of his disguises and gimmicks—but without the lies and stories. All the flaws, the mistakes—he needed her to understand he was still seeking atonement for the past.

So was she.

Madelyn caught him off guard when she turned towards him, gently tugging on his hand so he’d face her properly. He stared at her expectantly, lips parted as if he had something to say. Their conversation still weighed heavily on her mind—she wanted to kiss him, but there was still too much grief consuming her heart. Without saying another word, she wrapped her arms around his torso, pressing her face against his shoulder as she hugged him, hoping it would be enough. Instantly, his arms enveloped her, tucking her tight against his chest as he rested his chin on her head. Wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, she felt at peace, listening to the pounding of his heart.

“I’m in your corner, Deacon,” she said, quietly mumbling the words into his shoulder, echoing a sentiment he’d shared with her before. “I’m with you, till the bitter end.”

[drowningotometrash]

Because I’m currently obsessing over Love and Producer (Mr Love Queen’s Choice), I HAVE to rant all about it, and what better place than here lol. I never really thought I’d be this into it as I saw waaaaaay too many ads for it prerelease. I was actually like “mehhhhh I’ll think about it”, until my friend mentioned she liked it and I was bored.

Love and Producer is a Chinese game that has blown up quite a bit in the Chinese community. The taiwan ver was released late last year, approximately a year after the initial release in China, and is also the version I’m playing. You can choose VAs of all versions in the settings, currently there’s Mainland Chinese, Taiwan and Japanese. The Japanese release of the game is actually slated for 2019, but you can already choose the Japanese VA. And despite me usually liking Japanese voice acting, I SWEAR you’ve got to go with the mainland Chinese ver for this game. It simply is a lot more natural and flows a lot better. And note, the music is AMAZING in this game, I’m utterly obsessed. And the card illustrations and CGs are glorious.

Unlike quite a lot of otome games, the charm of Love and Producer for me is the plot. Like Mystic Messenger, L&P is quite plot heavy. In fact, there are 21 chapters released thus far in the Chinese ver (14 for the TW ver) and the first 10 still feels like the prologue, though I’ve heard it gets quite angsty later on.

The plot revolves around you as a producer of TV shows. You’re in charge of the production company that your father has left behind, and it’s steadily loosing viewership. Through various events you come to meet 4 men and they all seem to be interested or know you. You have dreams that you can’t explain and some parts of your memories are obviously suppressed. Eitherway you come to learn of Evolvers, humans with the Evol gene which makes them super human, and that an organisation is trying to capture and harm these people.

There are only four date-able characters, and they each play a significant role in the plot. Rather than say that the game is for you to “date” the 4 guys, occasionally it feels more like a story about people with super powers. In fact you learn more about the characters through side dates with them than the actual main plot line. Though I’ve heard later on you do get to choose whose route you want to play, but as of ch 14 you are still on the main route with all 4 guys. And it’s quite interesting because I do occasionally feel like the asshole that’s stringing 4 guys along as you jump from guy to guy in each chapter lol. But like previously mentioned, it’s because each guy actually does have a role to play in the plot and you need them to push it forward. Though you jump between guys, it is to let you have an initial grasp of these four people that are involved in the conspiracy around Evolvers. And for once I still haven’t managed to pick out my favourite character yet, I just love them all.

So now onto the guys:

First is 許墨 Xu Mo aka Lucien

He's a director and assistant professor of the local university. He's basically the mysterious guy. Very kind and gentle to MC but you know that he’s definitely not all he seems to be. He’s the kind guy you first meet when trying invite him onto the last episode to save your show. He always seems to know a bit too much and you some how end up as neighbours. Xu Mo is the warm but reasonable and the scientific person who helps you a lot with ideas and suggestions for your shows. He’s also the guy that will leave subtle hints for you even before events happen to you. He’s the kind that’s warm but you definitely feel he’s got a barrier between him and everyone. Though you are naturally much closer to him than others, there’s still a distance. Everything about him is mysterious and there’s an underlying sense of danger around him. Out of all characters, he is the only one who’s Evol is still unknown.

Next guy is 李澤言 Li Zeyan aka Victor

His japanase VA is Tomokazu Sugita, the same guy who voices Oda Nobunaga in IkeSen. And what can I say, he’s the typical rich CEO who basically is the guy who funds everything. He’s mean but always helping you, calls you an idiot, teases you and refuses to admit that he cares. You actually call him out on his tsundere attitude on dates lol. He’s basically the Han Jumin of the game, but not as competely out of the loop as Best HusbandTM is. He seems to have a fondness for animals, esp Chibas. He’s also a great cook, sharing memories in regards to pudding with you. He definitely knows you from before though details still aren’t exactly revealed yet (or I haven’t gotten there yet lol). His Evol is related to Time Control.

Side note: His assistant is the best.

Third is 白起 Bai Qi aka Gavin

Baiqi was your senior in high school. The rumoured bad boy who got into fights all the time and with atrocious grades. You were actually afraid of him during high school. However he suddenly transferred away and you never saw him again until the events started happening. Currently he's working as a police officer at the local Police station, though everyone thinks he doesn't care about his job. But he's actually a secret agent working against the organisation targeting Evolvers. He's the special forces guy that has always liked you but is not good at or used to expressing his emotions. Despite being the guy with the clearest and most direct connection with you, he never tries to push that on you. He also doesn't try to correct the assumptions you used to have of him. His Evol is Wind/Air related, as he straight up tells you "As long as you are in the wind, I will know where you are." He is also the one who clearly displays his protectiveness over you.

Side note: His self proclaimed sidekick and best friend is always trying to make you realise he's always liked you.

Extra side note: I was so shocked when I discovered who his Mainland Chinese voice actor was. As I hadn't looked up anything before the game, I was halfway through the released chapters before I found out. I was so shocked. With Japanese seiyuus you tend to be able to recognise them if you've watched one too many anime. But here? I even went back to listen through the story portions again and I couldn't (and still can't) link up the voices lol.

Lastly is 周棋洛 Zhou Qiluo aka Kiro

He's an idol superstar. Basically he can act, sing and model. He's the most popular celebrity and he can attract fans from all walks of life. He's the typical bright bubbly guy who lights up your life or tries his hardest fo cheer you up when you are down. He loves snacks and calls you Miss Chips as you met over a bag of chips at a convenience store I wish it actually were that easy meeting celebrities. You both love to eat and bond over food. You gradually discover more sides to him and he definitely knows more, but he's still a bright boy at heart (at least from where I've gotten so far). His Evol is Absolute Attraction.

Side note: If you thought I was shocked when I found out who voiced 白起 Bai Qi, I was utterly floored when I discovered who voiced this guy. The difference in characters of the roles the VA played in a previous show is too shocking. I still can't link up the two and was literally flabbergasted when I found out.

There's also a unique feature of this game called "By Your Side". It's basically an ASMR recording of the characters speaking to you softly as he lays beside you and lulls you to sleep. It's definitely very soothing though I haven't tried to fall asleep to it. However only one segment of one character, 許墨 Xu Mo, is free. You'd have to pay if you want to unlock the rest.

[nicholaswilde]

Mission 48

Seblaine Week 2019, Day 1 

Theme: Accidental Dating/Marriage

Summary: Ambassador Blaine Anderson has just left Earth on a long-term mission for the Intergalactic Diplomacy Bureau. The goal? Establish positive relations with the mysterious inhabitants of a planet three million light years away. He gets a little bit more than he bargained for. - PG, just under 3,000 words

Intergalactic wormhole travel was always a bit dizzying. This was his 13th journey from Earth, but Blaine still found himself fighting off nausea as the small, spherical ship jettisoned through space-time. The human body simply wasn't built for this kind of chaos.

He was anxious, too. It was his first long-term diplomacy mission, to a planet they'd only recently established communication with. Instruments and tech had bent sent ahead of him, to report vital measurements like temperature and breathability of the atmosphere, but Blaine would be the first human being to step foot there. He would stay for months, learning what he could, establishing connections, acting as the sole representative of his entire species as two advanced worlds worked out how they could benefit from the other.

The mysterious inhabitants had offered very little information about themselves except to assure that Earth's diplomat would need not worry about language translation and could expect many of the comforts of home.

It was a vague but encouraging invitation. Blaine could only hope for the best. His success would mean peaceable relations for years to come. His failure could mean anything from being demoted back to an assistantship to all-out planetary war.

No pressure.

Blaine clutched the rigid armrests of his seat as the vibration rose to a frenzied pitch. Despite a half dozen safety restraints and a design meant to cushion his body from the worst of it, Blaine felt his bones start to rattle beneath his skin. He gnawed at his mouthguard, clamped his eyes shut, and-

Just when he could take no more, the ship exited the wormhole. The sensation was like the snap of a giant rubber band, followed by profound stillness. He was still moving, of course, drifting toward the planet ahead of him at a casual 17,000 miles per hour, but the final descent was a walk in the park compared to the past 4.5 minutes he'd spent hurtling through the very fabric of the universe.

At touchdown, the restraints automatically released. Blaine sat up, rolled his shoulders, pulled the silicone from between his teeth, and rattled off a quick message into the slim comms device at his wrist. "This is Blaine Anderson, ambassador deployed for long-term diplomacy with Mission 48. I'm on the ground."

Even with their most advanced systems, the transmission would take hours to reach Earth, and any response would take just as long. Blaine was alone here, and the airlock door was opening.

He shouldered a heavy bag filled with his worldly possessions and stepped out onto the platform below. As his eyes adjusted, Blaine's first thought was that this planet bore remarkable resemblance to the one he intimately knew. Their closest star fought to shine through a dense ring of gases in the outer atmosphere, leaving a sepia hue to the natural light around them. But there was grass, a treeline, the sound of something like birdsong.

Most jarring and familiar of all, however, were the locals here to meet him. Four of them standing abreast, a few feet away. They were indistinguishable from humankind, right down to the modern, business casual outfits they wore. Blaine was about to ask if he was in the right place. Maybe the ship's autopilot had routed him to a planet with an already-established Earth embassy.

"Welcome, Ambassador Anderson. We are very glad to have you here."

Definitely the right place.

Blaine swallowed down the strangeness of the moment and stepped forward, offering his hand and a few pleasantries to each of them in turn. He was met with smiles and firm handshakes. Curiously, every introduction featured a recognizable Earth name beginning with the letter S. There was Sybil, Stewart, and Susan.

The last of the group introduced himself as Sebastian. He reached for the strap of Blaine's bag, pulled it from his shoulder, and passed it off to one of the others to carry. Then he stepped closer and spoke in a low, almost apologetic tone:

"I hope you do not mind the intrusion, but while we researched Earth customs to prepare for your arrival, we worked to familiarize ourselves with you as well." Sebastian glanced down at himself with a critical eye and pursed lips, then met Blaine's gaze once more. "I chose this form with your preferences in mind. I hope it pleases you?"

"I--" Blaine gaped momentarily. A fish out of water. "It's, uh- It's perfectly fine. Wonderful," he stammered. "Thank you."

He was gorgeous, truth be told. A sharp jawline. Keen eyes the color of moss, except when the light hit them in a particular way and revealed hints of hazeled grey and gold. Short hair with an effortless, backswept style. And though Blaine didn't let his eyes wander, his imagination didn't have to do much work to fill in the finer details of the stranger's lithe body beneath the blue button-down shirt and tailored pants.

In physical appearance, Sebastian ticked every box of Blaine's "type." Fantasy incarnate. A man made just for him. What sort of research capabilities did this race possess to be able to pin down such intricate--and private--information from a single human being nearly three million light years away? The 19-page dossier Blaine had stuffed among his possessions was looking more and more pathetic by the moment.

"Your expression suggests you have a question?" Sebastian offered, a kind smile on his face.

"You can change appearance at will?"

"Yes. We can even appear differently to different individuals simultaneously. Our kind identifies one another through-- Humans might call it consciousness? A mental link?" Blaine nodded, understanding. "Which means shifting appearances are of little consequence here. But do not worry; we've each assumed a specific form that your eyes will perceive as unchanging."

"Wow." It was all Blaine could say, lost for words once again, but Sebastian seemed satisfied. Rather pleased with himself, in fact.

"We’ll be meeting with all the major leaders soon, but in the meantime, I would love to show you around."

Blaine waved his hand, inviting Sebastian to lead the way. "Please do."

Still grinning like a schoolboy, Sebastian turned on his heel and linked their arms together like they’d known each other for years, not moments, as they started off down the landing platform and into the unknown.

They bypassed the ground vehicles stationed nearby for a tree-lined walking path instead, angling lazily toward the city center some half a mile away. Two giant, winged insects zipped past them and landed in the grass nearby, chattering away. Not birdsong after all, Blaine realized.

Like the humanoid locals and wannabe birds, the next few hours continued the theme of near-familiarity with a twist. Blaine was definitely not in Kansas anymore. He saw buildings with decorative fountains in their courtyards. A viscous, shimmering liquid cascaded upward and crashed into suspended pools that hovered in the air like gravity's rules didn't apply to them. He saw locals pause as he passed by, no matter how subtle they tried to make their staring. Many of them seemed to have trouble mastering the expressive abilities of their new human faces. They walked around with half-grimaces, perpetually wagging eyebrows, clownish smiles.

"Would you like anything to eat?" The first time Sebastian asked the question, Blaine thought nothing of it, politely declining in favor of furthering his study of a sign posted on a shop door, written in indiscernible runes. 

The second time Sebastian asked, Blaine thought maybe he'd just forgotten the first occurence. 

The third time Sebastian asked, within the span of an hour, Blaine gave him a quizzical look.

"Do you eat frequently here?" he asked, searching for some explanation. Maybe his presence had already interrupted a slew of mealtimes.

"No, no," Sebastian corrected. "Quite the opposite, actually. We don't."

"At all?" Blaine was dumbfounded.

"No, not at all." Sebastian smirked, almost blushing, as if the discussion of digestion was some strange taboo. "But I can assure your needs will be met while you're here. If ever you're in the state called hunger, please let me know."

Blaine nodded, huffing out a breathy laugh at the absurdity of it all. "I'll do that. Thank you."

Their exploration ended in the heart of the city center, at a building of spectacular scale and riveting architecture. Sebastian identified it as the local hub for politics, law, and public events. Curious statuary decorated the facade--depictions of bipedal creatures whose shape Blaine had never seen in all his travels. Thin, almost reptilian faces, hunched shoulders, six-fingered hands. He wondered if this was the true form of the man beside him or if the art was simply an equivalent to Earth's own misshapen, gothic gargoyles. He didn’t ask.

Sebastian led him inside to a large amphitheater. Representatives and leaders from more than two dozen other localities had come to meet the man from another world. Like those he'd already met on the landing platform, every collection of dignitaries offered him a set of distinctly human names. Each locality had chosen a different starting letter, to boot. Charles, Cynthia, and Cameron. Luke, Landon, and Laura. The general public was here, too, filling out every seat and overflowing to stand in the aisles.

Blaine had a place of honor on stage, with Sebastian on his left. 

Speakers came and went, orating primarily in English for Blaine's benefit. As expected, every speech centered on unity. Joining together. Peace and prosperity. Standard diplomatic fare.

But the rest of the ceremony was a little bit strange. He received gifts after each speech, all piling up quickly beside his chair. Unidentifiable trinkets, books written in the runic language, items of clear sentimental value to the people of this world. The planet's leaders shook his hand again and again.

They shook Sebastian's hand, too, which struck Blaine as odd.

There was cheering, applauding, stamping of feet. Blaine felt compelled to stand up several times to accept the applause--the only way to quell the crowd's excitement.

Whenever he stood to wave or bow or otherwise acknowledge the frantic adulation, Sebastian stood, too, which struck Blaine as odd.

The final speaker used the planet's native tongue. The entire crowd stood up, suddenly solemn and quiet. Sebastian stood, too, so Blaine followed suit.

Sebastian took his hand, entwining their fingers, which struck Blaine as odd. He was beaming with excitement, and perhaps a little anxiety. The speaker turned from the podium to face them both, said something with a warm smile and sense of gravitas.

The crowd cheered. The dignitaries applauded. Blaine smiled. Sebastian smiled. And just like that, the event was over. They slipped out through a backstage door to an empty room where a table had been set up with a pair of decorative drinking glasses and an array of decanters filled with beverages. The inhabitants didn't eat, but it appeared they drank.

Sebastian poured them each a glass. Blaine made a toast to lasting goodwill and introduced Sebastian to the custom of tapping drinks together.

"I have to hand it to you," Blaine told him with a laugh, "That was the most enthusiastic diplomacy meeting I've ever attended, in any galaxy."

Sebastian fell uncharacteristically still and silent. His face grew blank, then puzzled. "Meeting?" he asked. "I thought the human term was 'marriage.'"

Blaine coughed on his drink, wheezing, "Marriage?"

"Yes…" Sebastian spoke slowly, unsure. "The union of two individuals from faraway places. It's a custom that has been used to strengthen diplomatic alliances throughout Earth's history, yes?"

Blaine's head bobbed, automatically, yes. The internal, unofficial motto of the Intergalactic Diplomacy Bureau was 'when all else fails, go with the flow.' His brain was too busy shorting out to do anything else. There were no guidelines for something like this.

"Blaine?" Sebastian touched him on the shoulder, his beautiful eyes searching and concerned.

"I'm sorry, would-- would it be alright if I excused myself? I'm feeling a bit tired." An excuse, but not a lie. As the dossier had estimated, the days were clearly longer than those at home. Blaine was starting to feel the strain of his journey.

"Yes. I can show you where you'll be staying."

As before, Sebastian took Blaine by the arm, but his grip was decidedly less earnest. They didn't have to travel far. A room had been put together for Blaine on the top floor of the building, furnished like any decent studio apartment he'd find on Earth, sans kitchen, with an attached bathroom.

"I hope it pleases you?"

"This will be perfect. Thank you."

Graciously, Sebastian left without any prompting. Blaine couldn't even be bothered to close the door now that a king-size bed was staring him down. He dug into his bag, already delivered, and quickly set an alarm on one of the half dozen technological thingamajigs he'd brought along from home. Then he hit the pillows.

Even sleep was a practiced skill for planetary ambassadors. One never quite knew how frequently rest opportunities would occur within an extraterrestrial timeline. Mere minutes of meditation were all took for Blaine to slip away.

Three Earth hours later, he was up again. Blissfully, the sharp shock of an unexpected marriage had been softened and dulled by sleep. Now it felt faintly like a dream or an utterly ridiculous romantic comedy.

Blaine ran a hand through his hair. He should send another report back home. It had been too long already. He unbuckled the comms device from his wrist, twiddling it between his fingers as he started a transmission and began to speak.

"This is Blaine Anderson, reporting in from Mission 48. Approximately," he checked the time, "12 Earth hours underway; local time and duration still unclear--will make a point to clarify that soon. Only one major event to report. Um."

Blaine hesitated, then laughed, beside himself. "I'm a married man? I... Holy shit. Apparently the inhabitants did some deep research on human customs, and arranged marriages was one of the major items that stood out to them? Shortly after arrival, I met who I thought would be my guide--an emissary--and within a few hours, we're at a meeting with all the major planetary leaders in attendance. A meeting slash wedding."

Blaine shook his head as he recalled it. Go with the flow.

"At any rate, things aren't exactly playing out how we anticipated, but I'd say, overall, the mission objective to secure lasting, positive relations between our two worlds is off to an extremely solid start. And Sebastian, the emissary," Blaine couldn't quite put the word 'husband' on his tongue just yet, "is... He seems very kind. Eager to--"

 A gentle knock sounded behind him. Blaine turned his head to see a familiar face peeking past the open door.

"I'm interrupting?"

"No, no. Please, come in. I can finish this later." Blaine paused the incomplete transmission and tossed the comms device back into his open bag. Sebastian had come in, but only just. He hovered at the edge of the room. "Is everything okay?" Blaine didn't need a mental connection with him to know the answer. While he'd been sleeping, Sebastian had been stewing.

Sebastian looked at him plainly. "I worry we misinterpreted the purpose of your visit. I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable."

If there was one thing Blaine could get behind with his sudden, new relationship, it was Sebastian's tendency to be completely transparent. There would be no hidden grudges left to fester, no secrets to untangle, no problems he wouldn't be willing to discuss. If his last boyfriend of five years had been even half as forthcoming, Blaine mused, they might've lasted.

"I'm not uncomfortable," Blaine assured him. There was no reason to beat around the bush. He suspected Sebastian could glean hints of information from Blaine's mind just as easily as humans interpreted nuanced facial expressions. "A little surprised, sure, but..."

Suddenly, Sebastian looked more like the foreigner in a distant land.

"Come over here," Blaine suggested. "Sit down with me?"

Sebastian obliged, settling on the edge of the bed, so close their shoulders brushed. Blaine took one of his hands, cupping it between his own. The pad of his thumb rubbed a gentle path over Sebastian's knuckles. Keen empathy and compassion had earned Blaine his respected position in diplomacy. It was second nature to him to reach out, to connect.

"Humans have used marriage as a diplomacy tool. That's true. It’s helped bring families and empires together. Prevent wars, seal political alliances." Blaine spoke softly, trying to explain without patronizing Sebastian or discrediting the efforts of the planet's leadership. "Nowadays, though, at least in most places on Earth, marriage is seen more as a private, social bond.” His voice softened. “What I mean to say is, most people don't get married on the first day they meet. They get to know one another first."

"We can get to know one another," Sebastian offered.

"Of course we can. I'll be stationed here for the next year, at least."

"Three hundred and sixty-five Earth rotations."

Blaine laughed. "Exactly."

They sat in peaceable silence for a minute. Two minutes. Then Sebastian said, "There is one marriage custom I'm particularly curious to try."

"What's that?"

Sebastian pulled his hand free from Blaine's grip, reaching up instead to touch Blaine's face. They looked at each other. Despite all the oddities surrounding him on this alien world, Blaine felt his stomach start to coil and wind, familiar, eager anxiety stealing over as Sebastian leaned in close.

Their lips touched. Blaine sucked in a sharp breath through his nose.

Sebastian had clearly done his homework. He was an enthusiastic study and wasted no time in pressing further, coaxing Blaine's mouth open, slipping just the tip of his tongue between Blaine's teeth. Blaine's reservations collapsed like a house of cards.

He reached out with both hands, finding Sebastian's jawline and tracing it up. His fingers dug into Sebastian's hair. The texture was unnaturally soft, irresistible.

Sebastian's body gave a discernible shiver as he pulled out of the kiss. Blaine opened his eyes. Sebastian's own, just inches away, stared back with heated intensity.

"It does elicit pleasure," he said, like he'd made a scientific discovery. "That's remarkable."

Laughter bubbled up out of Blaine like a spring.

[sprnklersplashes]

I Can Be Your Hero (chapter 4)

The buzz around the Swan had refused died down in the weeks after her fight with Fiona. There had been no more attacks form mutated lightening monsters for Emma to take down, so her outfit remained hanging in her wardrobe. She hadn’t even taken it out for a quick fly around the city, despite the fact she remained itching to get out there. It was making her restless, like something else inside of her was pushing to get out, her Storybrooke side. After being suppressed for so long, it was saying ‘not again, don’t push me out again’ and she wanted to listen to it.

Even though the Swan hadn’t resurfaced in the last weeks, her fanbase hadn’t. The city made the most of it; putting up a plaque at the place where she had taken down the Black Fairy and at the Wonderland apartments, selling t-shirts with her logo on it (that made her a little uncomfortable, but she could get by), mugs with her face on it (which Isaac in her office had and she nearly had a heart attack). She saw little girls posing heroically in the spot where she had defeated Fiona and she had admitted to Elsa that night, that was almost as rewarding as saving the city.

Killian had gotten more than a day off for his achievement of taking the photo. He had been in a few local news interviews, all desperate to get the story from the man who saw the Swan in the flesh and had met the Mayor. There were even rumours of him being considered for a Pulitzer.

She joked to him at the coffee machine that it was a marvel his head even fit on his shoulders any more.

“All I did was snap a lucky picture, Snow,” he pointed out. “Honestly if anyone should be meeting the Mayor it’s this Swan woman. Who seems to have disappeared into thin air.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll appear once a new crisis emerges.” She giggled to herself as she sipped her coffee.

“Well if she can keep getting me raises and fame, she can stick around as long as she liked,” he joked. “Plus, I’d like to see her back again. She was…. Inspiring.”

“Inspiring?” Emma smiled, ignoring the sense of pride flowing through her as she and Killian made their way back to her office.

“Well who wouldn’t be inspired by her?”

“Mr. Gold,” Emma huffed. Mr Gold seemed to be the only one who was not a fan of hers. For every positive interview or article about her, he Tweeted three negatives.

“Yes, well he is so up his own arse he expects everyone to call him Mr.” Emma choked on her coffee as she laughed. She leaned against her desk, throwing her hair back, not wanting this conversation to end. “Since when did the opinion of one single misogynistic douchebag matter?”

“I’ll drink to that,” she chuckled, toasting him with her coffee. Killian blushed slightly and looked around the room, licking the corner of his mouth slightly.

“And I am in your office. Where I should not be.”

It was like a spell had been broken. The light feeling in Emma’s stomach disappeared, that sensation of being weightless and carefree that she had had since she started talking to him. She straightened up suddenly and gave him an awkward smile.

“Well, thank you for walking me up,” she offered.

“I suppose I should return to my hovel now,” he said. He gave her a nod and turned to leave but was met with Zelena walking out of her office.

“You,” she said. “You don’t go here.”

“No, Miss West, I am on my way to my studio now,” he replied, but she waved his hand to dismiss him.

“No, stay here. I have an announcement that concerns you,” she said. He nodded and stepped back towards Emma, raising an eyebrow at her.

Zelena clapped twice, sharp and quick, and her employees snapped up to her attention.

“Mr Gold has decided to host a gala on Saturday night for his company to celebrate 50 years of him lording his wealth that Daddy gave him over the rest of us and, as per usual I have been invited. Emma, as my PA I need you to attend.” Emma looked over at Graham, mouth open. Zelena had never invited her to go any fancy parties with her. This was unusual indeed, but she wasn’t objecting. “Graham, you’re coming too, I like you and you’re one of the most respectable people here.” Graham smiled, clearly content with that remark. “That’s not exactly a compliment when you think of who works here.” His shoulders drooped, and Emma mouthed an “ouch” at him. “And you, photo man, Kieran.”

“Killian,” he corrected.

“Yes, you’re coming too. You make us look good. Plus, you took photos of the Swan, so your presence will probably piss him off. You three check your emails for the details I’ve forwarded them to you. And the rest of you…. Work harder. Then maybe you can be invited places.”

She turned and marched back into her office, the door clicking behind her, leaving an air of annoyance and excitement among her employees.

“Well, now. Guess us three lucky ones better get ourselves cleaned up for this shin-dig,” Killian said, looking from Emma to Graham. “Hard work pays off.”

“Yeah, you two get that, I got ‘you have to go because you’re my PA’,” Emma reminded him.

“And that makes you the most important player in the game, Snow,” Killian said. “Well I really must be going but I will see you two in all your finery on Saturday.”

He winked at Emma and strutted out the door. Emma pressed her cool hand to her face to try to force the red to leave, telling herself that she was simply overwhelmed with the excitement of the gala. Nothing else.

                                                                                               *****

Emma made her way down to the water cooler with her now empty sports bottle. Elsa had been leaving not so subtle hints that she wanted her to drink more water since they were teenagers but now that Emma was an official superhero, they had become more frequent and somehow more passive aggressive, to the point of buying her a Snow White themed sports bottle from the Disney store.

“We must stop running into each other lass,” a familiar voice joked behind her as she filled up her bottle. Emma couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she turned to face Killian. “Anyone would think you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Me?” she laughed. “You’re the one who keeps running into me.”

“Aye, that I do.” The look he had in his eyes made her stomach flip. She was so sure she imagined that interested look in those blue eyes, like he was fascinated by her. She rubbed the back of her neck and stepped aside to let him use the water cooler.

“So, how goes work up here?” he asked. He was taking his time with filling his plastic cup.

“Oh, you know, I’ve been on my feet all day and Zelena has me sending e-mails faster than one could receive them,” she sighed. “Yourself?”

“Well it’s a bit slow down here,” he confessed. “But here’s to demanding work.” He tapped his plastic cup against her sports bottle.

“What do you even do when you’re not out taking pictures of superheroes?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Well,” he began, cocking his head and smiling. “Mostly adding edits to the pictures, making sure they are the top quality that our good magazine deserves. Or indeed e-mailing our lovely journalists photos they need or asking what they need photographed. Or on the phone to some company that I need to convince to let me photograph something or other.” He ran his long along his bottom lip, sending a shiver down Emma’s spine, and straightened up. “Tell you what, love. If you’re not busy and you’re really, really interested in the art of photography, maybe I could take you down there and let you see how exactly I work my magic.”

His offer completely threw Emma off-guard. There was nothing dishonest in his face-and Emma was excellent at spotting a liar. He just seemed to wish to spend some time with her.

And she’d have been lying to herself if she didn’t want to do the same.

Plus, it was an extra five minutes out of the office.

“What do I have to lose?” she chuckled. “Five minutes?” With a triumphant smile, Killian offered her his arm and led her down to his photography studio.

The studio was messier than it was the last time she was in it; candy bar wrappers and empty water bottles littered the desk, two hoodies were strewn across two different chairs and the bin was overflowing.

“Yes, pardon the mess,” he stammered, lifting one of the hoodies and wringing it in his hand nervously. “I had forgotten about the disarray it was in and hadn’t thought about it when I invited you over.”

“It’s no worse than my own apartment,” she said. His shoulders immediately dropped at her words, a sigh escaping his mouth.

“Come, let me show you what I do,” he said, sitting at his laptop and pulling a chair over for her. He brought up the image of the Swan from a few weeks back, with her fight with Fiona. Emma prayed desperately that her blush would leave, and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “This is the picture before I got my pretty little, uh…..hand on it.” And went into his folder and brought up the image Emma recognised form the cover. It was zoomed in on her, more focussed, her hair lightened, the strain and weariness on her face visible, but her posture stood out as she stood victorious. The lines around her family crest were sharper, making it stand out and drawing her eye. She felt a surge of pride in her chest knowing that people would see that on her. She blinked away her tears furiously.

“So, you make the photos look better?” she asked as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Not just better, cover-worthy,” he said. “Make it sharper, play with focus, amp up the colours and voila.”

“So you’re a glorified photoshopper?” she teased, thankful her eyes had dried.

“Oh I am much more than that, Miss Snow,” he replied, but he still had that easy going smile, that relaxed posture. “I am the one making these photos look engaging. I am the man who makes people stop and look at us. I am the reason this whole business is running.”

“Okay, now someone’s being cocky,” she smirked, shaking her head.

“Well, of course Zelena makes some contribution. As does her personal assistant, without whom she would be floundering.”

“And now you’re buttering me up,” she sighed, standing up. “Well I should get going.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to company to collapse because you weren’t there to forward on Zelena’s emails, would we?” Emma rolled her eyes as she made for the door. “I’m being serious.”

“You’re being sweet,” she called over her shoulder. “And it’s appreciated.”

“And if you ever need a refuge, you know where to find me.”

Emma couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she walked up to her floor, and she didn’t try to either.

                                                                                            ******

Graham straightened up as he saw Emma walk through the door, blonde hair now pulled back into a ponytail. He commanded that his heart stop its incessant pounding as she took her seat across from him.

This was it. This was the moment he had been building up to for six months. The day he finally took the plunge and asked Emma out.

He had been crushing-no, not crushing. He refused to use the word “crush” to describe Emma. He wasn’t a lovestruck schoolboy staring at a girl as she passed him in the hall. He had had feelings for Emma for six months now and for the last two months, had convinced himself at every opportunity he could he’d ask her out. He’d gotten tickets to some play, some band was coming to town, a new restaurant had just opened. And yet at every point he had chickened out.

But now, Zelena had gifted him with a golden opportunity. The gala. She would be there, he would be there, a black suit and tie event. All he needed to do was officially seal the deal and ask her as his date.

“Where have you been?” he asked, noticing how she seemed lighter than she was when she had left. Happier. That water break must have done wonders for her.

“Oh you know, taking in the wonders of the water cooler.” She still had that open, dreamy smile on her face and Graham’s plans halted in his mind as another possibility took over it. “I talked to Killian for a bit.” It was as if Emma had read his mind and wanted to confirm it.

She was sitting there with a ridiculously cute and happy smile on her face, she was practically bouncing, and her cheeks were still pink.

Graham sighed inwardly and turned to his computer, disappointment crashing over him. Even if Emma hadn’t admitted it to herself, she clearly had feelings for Killian. And what kind of friend would he be if he made her turn away from them?

                                                                                               ******

Anna lifted two more dresses off the rack, not even the sale rack, and skipped off to the dressing room, Emma rolling her eyes and following in tow. When she had agreed to a day out with Anna to go dress shopping for the gala after work, she had expected to find one cute enough dress in the first shop they went to. This was the third and Emma still hadn’t found one she liked, and Anna approved of, the latter of which was infinitely more difficult. Her feet were aching and her legs were practically jell-o at this point. She half-hoped for another burning building.

But even with her weary muscles, Emma couldn’t stop the small smile on her face as Anna flitted through the store to the dressing room, humming some kid’s song under her breath and pausing to look at some multi-coloured knitted scarf. Anna was Anna, crazy and bubbly and distracted as she was, and Emma wasn’t sure she’d want her any other way.

“Okay try this one on first.” Anna thrust a soft blue number into her arms and shoved her into the changing room before she could even protest. And to Emma’s utter dismay, she shook her head when she came out.

“Anna, we’ve been doing this for hours,” she complained.

“An hour and a half,” Anna corrected. “But I have a really good feeling about this one.” She threw a short red one at her and motioned for her to go back into the cubicle. “I’ll make it up to you!”

“You better.”

The red one really was better. The skirt reached to her knees and was loose enough to be comfortable but not so much that she worried about a Marylin Monroe incident. The dress was sleeveless with a low neckline, decorated with sequins.

“Emma, come on,” Anna called from outside. When Emma padded out to her, Anna gasped. “This is it. This is the one.”

“It is?” Emma could have danced. “We’re done?”

“Yes we are,” Anna chuckled. “Hurry up and pay, Elsa’s ready to meet us at the Starbucks up the street.”

After changing, Emma linked arms with her sister and made her way to the counter.

                                                                                                               ******

The night of the gala, Emma was adding in some red earrings and strapping up some black high-heeled sandals that she had kept in her closet since her college graduation. Anna had been around earlier to apply make-up and she had outdone herself with a smoky black and grey eye-makeup and red lipstick.

Graham’s knock at the door was perfectly timed; she had just finished strapping up her shoes. She opened the door to find Graham in a full tux, a pretty big change from his usual shirt and jeans routine.

“You clean up well, Humbert,” she teased, adjusting the hem of her skirt slightly. Graham on the other hand couldn’t seem to close his mouth.

“You look amazing, Emma,” he muttered. Emma shifted uncomfortably when she saw red spread across his face and decided to get their night moving, hoping to cut through the dense atmosphere.

“Come on,” she said, offering him her arm. “I need you to help me down these stairs in heels.”

                                                                                               ******

Graham let out a low whistle as he followed his sat-nav’s directions and pulled up outside Gold’s mansion, where the gala was being held. A red carpet led right up to the double doors of the massive red brick house, French windows decorated with fairy lights and photographers flashing their cameras, making Emma dizzy. Briefly, she wondered if Killian was among them.

As Graham helped her out of the passenger seat, Zelena’s black car pulled up next to them. How she managed to keep it looking new despite the fact she owned it for years was a mystery to Emma.  She stepped out in a tight black dress and stilettos, her hair pinned up in a bun with emerald hairpins.

“Miss West,” Emma greeted, not entirely sure what to say.

“Emma. You look nice,” Zelena said. “Come on.” Before Emma had a chance to respond, she was walking in the direction of the mansion and Emma was stumbling after her alongside Graham. “Gold’s obviously going to want to meet with me inside. We’re keeping it quick and snappy. And it would be best if you didn’t talk.”

“Got it,” Emma mumbled while being blinded by the camera flashes. She thanked God Graham was there to make sure she didn’t stumble and land in one of these photographers’ laps.

The entrance was a marble floor and high ceiling with a diamond chandelier and a spiral staircase. Emma felt like she had been sent back to some 1930s murder mystery event. Men and women in white shirts and tight black trousers walked around with trays of finger food and champagne and the sound of violins could be heard in the next room.

“Well we definitely aren’t in Kansas anymore,” she muttered, which got a chuckle from Graham.

“Oh, alert.” Emma looked in the direction Graham had gestured to and saw a thin man with long brown hair, a metallic cane and a slightly disgusted facial expression as he took in some of his guests.

“Mr Gold,” Emma sighed. “Ruthless and cruel but apparently can throw one hell of a party.”

Zelena looked in his direction and drew in a deep breath.

“All right, lets get this over with,” she muttered. Gold noticed her and immediately started moving towards her.

“Miss West,” he greeted with a pained smile on his face. “I am utterly delighted you could attend.”

“Of course,” she replied, her voice smooth but her arm tense as she shook his hand. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Adam.” Emma chuckled and disguised it as a cough even though Gold wasn’t paying her any attention. It was like watching two sharks circle each other and Zelena clearly had the upper hand. “Congratulations by the way on your…. Development? Forgive me Adam, so much happens these days its hard to keep track of the little things.”

Emma was sure that if they weren’t at a media covered event, Zelena would have gotten a punch to the chin. Gold took a deep breath and composed himself, baring his teeth.

“No matter Miss West. And we have an extra cause for celebration tonight.” A young woman with thick dark hair appeared and placed her hand lightly on Gold’s arm. “Miss West, I don’t suppose you know my wife, Belle?”

Behind her, Graham choked on whatever he had nabbed from a server’s tray.

“Wife?” he whispered. “She’s about half his age!” Emma huffed in agreement and looked at her, noticed the glass of lemonade in her hand while everyone around her drank champagne, noticed the slight swell in her abdomen.

“Well Belle and I are expecting our first child together, aren’t we darling?” Belle nodded demurely. Emma couldn’t help but take in her smile that didn’t reach her eyes, how she looked at the floor, the tension in her arms. It broke her heart.

“Oh, Adam that is just lovely,” she smiled. “When are you due?” Belle opened her mouth, but it was Gold who answered.

“Six months from now. So, as I said tonight is another reason for celebration.” He patted Belle’s hand. “What about you, Miss West? Your family, how are they?” Emma new that struck a nerve, Zelena never spoke about her family, but true to form she didn’t show it on her face.

“Oh, you know how it is Adam. I wish you all the best with your child. Especially after what happened with the first one.”

Neither Emma nor Graham had any idea what she was talking about, but if looks could kill, Zelena may just have dropped dead on the spot.

“Indeed,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Come my darling, why don’t we greet more of our guests. I hope you and your employees enjoy the party, Miss West.”

Zelena turned to face Emma and Graham. She had a self-righteous smile on her face, but her eyes were upset, and her hands curled into tight fists.

“You two enjoy yourself. I need a drink after that.” She walked off to the bar.

Graham and Emma made their way to the main ballroom. It was about the size of Emma’s apartment, maybe larger, with a white wall with ornate cold designs. Silver curtains hung at either side of the French windows and the set of glass doors which led out to an immaculately kept garden. At one end there was a long white table covered with finger food and more servers with glasses of champagne.

“I think I am going to take advantage of the free food,” Graham said. “You want to come?”

“I do not want to face down this crowd. But bring me back something?”

“Got it. I’ll look for anything either friend, cheesy or chocolate covered.” Emma laughed as Graham left her for the food table.

“Snow?” a familiar voice asked behind her. She smiled as she turned to face Killian, who wore a black shirt, slightly open, and black jacket with a red trim, his hook replaced by a black prosthetic hand. Emma forced herself to maintain eye contact but damn, did he look good. “You look absolutely amazing.”

“You’re looking pretty well yourself,” she replied. “Although I am fairly certain the invitation said ‘black tie’.”

“Well, it did but it also said ‘the finest champagne in New York City’ and frankly, its average at best.”

“So, in addition to being a photoshop wizard, you’re a drinks expert.”

“I may have a rather refined pallet, yes.” He smiled at her, making her hands twist into the fabric of her dress. “So this is quite the hoe-down isn’t it?” Emma laughed at how wrong the word ‘hoe-down’ sounded in his accent.

“Is that how you think Americans talk?” she asked.

“Well I spent a semester in Texas and it is exactly how they spoke,” he replied, making Emma laugh again.

The musicians changed their tune to some slow, classical piece she vaguely remembered being on the radio.

“Not exactly keeping with the times with this music, are they?” he asked.

“No, but Mr Gold is getting up in the years,” she joked. “Maybe this was the tune of his day.”

“Aye, possibly,” he said. He licked his lip slightly and his hands reached up to scratch lightly behind his ear. “Emma, I hope I’m not being too foreward, but would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

Emma’s stomach dropped to the floor, two conflicting thoughts battling in her head. One said “say yes say yes say yes” and the other brought up painful memories of her attempts at slow dancing with her first girlfriend Lily during her high school prom.

“I would,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “As long as you don’t mind me standing on your foot.” Killian chuckled and stepped closer, offering her his hand.

“I have a feeling you’ll do grand.” Emma placed her hand in his warm one, sending warmth throughout her whole body and making the smile on her face wider. “There’s just one rule when it comes to these kinds of dances. Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Emma allowed him to place her hands on his shoulders and for him to place his hand and prosthetic on her waist. She moved her hands until they were clasped at the back of his neck, her thumb running across the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Just follow my lead.” They swayed together in a comfortable silence, small smiles passing between them as Emma’s rapid heartbeat gradually slowed down, not to its normal pace, but so she could feel comfortable but still have the buzz of adrenaline. “You know, Snow, I think you’re too hard on yourself. You are quite good.”

“Shut up,” she said, red creeping across her cheeks. “Where did you learn to dance?”

“Well, my mother taught me,” he said, sadness flickering across his eyes for a moment.

“Your mom?” Emma asked, not knowing what else to say. Her mother had danced with her, but that was just fun, not serious, slow dancing which involved holding another person close like the way she was doing with Killian.

“Aye. She was adamant that my brother and I grow up to be proper gentlemen. Which would involve being able to spin a lady-or man-across the dancefloor with grace and poise.”

“Well she taught you well.” Emma wanted to ask more about his childhood but held herself back. She barely knew this man. She was not going to pry into his childhood.

And she was not staring at his lips. And she was not inching closer to him, tilting her head and parting her lips slightly, her eyes half closed. And his warm breath smelling only slightly like champagne was not on her face.

The sound of a window crashing caused her to jump back from Killian, her hand wrapping around his of its own accord.

The window closest to them was smashed, the glass looking like diamonds on the floor, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was the black robot that had crashed through. It was taller than a human, broader. At the end of one of its arms there was a canon-like device which glowed red. On its blank face there were two glowing red eyes.

The canon fired at the wall, staining it black and burning a crater in it.

Immediately the party descending into panic, people feeling towards the exit as fast as humanly possible. Emma’s eyes scanned the crowds to try to find Graham as she and Killian squeezed through the crowds closing in on the exits.

They stumbled into the lobby, only for Emma to almost trip over the person in front of her as the crowd came to a standstill. A scream shot through the air and Emma felt a weight press on her chest as murmurs slithered through the crowd.

“There’s ones blocking the exit!” someone in front of her gasped. Killian squeezed her hand tightly, terror written all over his face.

Emma didn’t need to think about what she had to do. Killian was scanning the crowd for an exit and she took that opportunity to take her hand out of his and push backwards through the crowd. She squeezed out of the crowd, slipped down a narrow corridor and into a closet containing various light switches.

Hastily, she ripped off her glasses and unzipped her dress. This party needed a hero.

                                                                                               ******

The Swan flew out of the mansion and back round to the ballroom. The robot was still in the window, not moving except for its head, which moved left and right every so often. She focussed hard on the back of his neck and allowed her lasers to shoot out, drilling into it until a sad metallic groan came form it and it fell to the ground.

Wasting no time, she flew over the destroyed robot and into the entrance.

“Look, the Swan!” someone called from below. Gasps rippled throughout the crowd as they craned their necks to see her. Somewhere in the crowd, Emma saw she dishevelled hair and blue eyes of Graham and smiled. He was safe, for now at least.

“They’ve blocked the exits!” someone called up to her. She was surprised when she turned and saw that the voice belonged to Belle, Mr Gold’s wife. Her husband wasn’t around. “The main entrance and side doors. We can’t get out.”

“I can take care of this,” she called back, and Belle immediately relaxed. “I need you all to remain calm.”

The Swan flew over the crowd and landed squarely in front of the robot blocking the main doorway.

“Who are you?” The robot tilted its head to the side. The blank expression sent a chill down Emma’s back. At least with Fiona she was, at least partially, human. Whatever this was, it was just a void staring back at her. “Are you from this planet?” Again, nothing. “What do you want?” The robot raised its arm in response, a red laser firing up inside it. “Okay so we’re doing this.”

Emma wasn’t sure her plan would work, but it was better than nothing. She flew to its side-it was too big and clumsy to respond-and used her laser eyes to cut through the metal, wincing as sparks and shards came close to her, but the arm fell off and the laser died down.

“Now, do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?” she smirked before lasering off its head and watching as its motionless body toppled. She didn’t stay to enjoy her victory, instead flying to the next door, only to be greeted with another robot. “Okay Robocop, let’s do this.” Same as before she lasered the head off it and let it topple to the ground.

A ripple of applause caused her to turn around and face the around. There were even people screaming their appreciation for her.

Emma didn’t take time to stop and appreciate it. She focussed, blocked out the applause and listened closely. She took off down the corridor and found herself face to face with yet another robot. The same routine applied; laser the head off. She supposed she should be happy they were predictable. She repeated the same chore at three other exits before heading back to the main ballroom.

“I think I’ve stopped all of them,” she called to the worried crowd. “But just stay here for now while I keep checking this out.”

“What are they?” Mr Gold asked. He seemed to be the only one not impressed by her, if the tight grip on his cane and gritted teeth were anything to go by.

“Honestly, I am not entirely sure, but we will find out. If you can call police and your loved ones to make sure they know you’re okay.” She didn’t wait for his response before she did another sweep of the building and to her relief she found all other exits clear. She swept back to the crowd to break the good news.

“We’re clear. There are no more robots blocking the exits. I think we’re good.”

It appeared she spoke too soon; one of the robots jerked to life almost the second she had said “good” and began firing up its weapon. The next Emma knew, she was speeding towards it, feeling the head of the blast on her face and shoving it away from the crowd, causing it to make a rather large dent in the wall. When she turned to face the crowd again, she saw Graham facing her, mouth open in shock. She felt her stomach drop at the thought of losing him.

“You said we were safe,” Gold snapped as she lasered off both its arms to be safe.

“Forgive me if I wasn’t totally sure, I’m not used to damn robots,” she replied before she could stop herself.

“Just who are you, Swan?” he asked, her name venomous on his tongue. Emma didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, just made another tour of the mansion and disarmed (literally, she supposed) the robots. As she did, she noticed the red and blue lights of police cars flashing outside the window. As well as the presence of a large black van. She felt certain it was the same one she had seen that night with Fiona.

Police, armed with guns, ran through the front door of the mansion, followed by hounds of reporters, no doubt hoping to catch another glimpse of the Swan.

                                                                                               ******

Emma, now once again Emma, the Swan discarded and thrown away, slipped back into the crowd. Everyone else was too distracted by the police and reporters to even pay attention to her as she pushed her way back through the crowd searching for Killian.

“Snow,” he said behind her as he took her hand gently. Emma turned to see his relieved face. He smiled and moved towards her, arms outstretched, before pulling back. “I lost you in that crowd and I didn’t know what to think…..”

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” she sighed. “The crowd was too big, and I couldn’t hold on to you. Have you seen Graham?” She knew he was safe, thanks to her, but she still saw her terrified face in her mind.

As if someone granted her wish, Graham appeared in her line of vision. She squeezed Killian’s arm and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Hey,” she sighed as he hugged her back. “Graham I was so worried there.”

“I think I need a drink,” he muttered. “Or ten.”

“Tell me about it, that robot arm almost killed you,” she said as she pulled back. Graham’s smile faltered, his eyebrows knotted.

“How did you know about that? You weren’t with me, how did you see it?”

Oh shit Emma thought. She slipped up, probably a side effect of the adrenaline wearing off. She felt herself growing hotter as she fumbled for an explanation.

“Excuse me, I need you to evacuate this place now,” a dark haired girl in a black uniform said. Tiredly, Emma thought to herself that it wasn’t like any uniform she had seen before, she wasn’t police but clearly wasn’t the army.

She allowed Graham to lead her outside. She gave another smile to Killian Jones as she and Graham made their way to his car.

“Big universe, huh?” she asked. “Sorry about the dance.”

“Oh, it’s nothing Snow,” he said. “You can simply owe me.” Before she could ask what he meant, he nodded and opened his car door. “Safe home.”

Emma nodded and turned to Graham’s car. Graham still had questions, but he wasn’t pressing. She took one look back at Gold’s mansion. The black van near the entrance. It gave Emma an uneasy feeling, and not knowing what the van was for frustrated her a lot, to put it mildly.

But not nearly as much as the fact she was going to have to think up some way to explain to Graham how she saw him when she was nowhere near him. She slipped into Graham’s passenger seat, her weary muscles relaxing into the leather covers he had. Graham looked at her sceptically for a moment, but said nothing.

This was going to be a long night.

[melaniesuzannewilson]

How I realised I am pregnant

Circumstances and early signs that led me to a positive pregnancy test

 Some women realise they are pregnant after a vague hunch, physical symptoms or taking a test. I had all those experiences when I realised I had became pregnant. I realised I was pregnant when travelling. That trip involved hiding a pregnancy during a wedding. Although those moments were a bit sneaky, they are fond memories.

 Conception happened a lot faster than I expected. We started early, assuming it could take 6 months or even more. The decision was made sometime in January. As luck happens, we were successful in February. That's really quick. By mid-March, I would discover the news quite early.

 We had booked to fly from Queensland to Sydney for a friend's wedding. In the few days before the trip, I had a feeling in my tummy. The physical feeling was subtle. So I didn't assume pregnancy yet. It seemed like a possibility. But I wasn't sure. Then soon before departure day for our weekend, my middle felt tender and I didn't want to press it. Ok. It was worth taking a test after that.  

 I used a test that shows a plus sign if positive. One of those lines on the plus showed so faint, it seemed like an error. I wanted to try a different brand of pregnancy test. Since there wasn't time for shopping before my flight, I waited to take a pregnancy test in the hotel.

 We visited the local supermarket near the accommodation. A cheaper brand of test offered a box of three sticks. That was perfect. I could feel more certain by doing multiple pregnancy tests to confirm. 

 Normally that test has just one bold line for a negative. This test result window had a faint second line that became increasingly visible. It wasn't bold like the other. The packaging had instructions that said a faint line is still a positive. Over the next few hours, I used the other couple of tests. They all had two lines. 

 Home pregnancy tests are known to be quite accurate. But mentally, I just couldn't trust a plastic stick to reveal my fate. That reaction could be normal. Maybe it's denial. It could be skepticism. I still had this attitude of, 'Maybe it is, maybe it isn't.'

 I booked in to see my old GP in Sydney. A good blood test should confirm things. The appointment would be hours before our friend's wedding. Our friendly doctor wrote a referral. I then got the actual blood test nearby. Results would be ready late that afternoon. But I would need a GP the next day, who could interpret any data. 

 That's how I ended up attending a formal wedding and not sipping a single drop of wine. That sort of thing is difficult to hide. I clung onto regular tap water and sparkling water with lemon slices. Beverages with a hint of taste were wonderful during such celebrations. At the time of writing this recollection, I couldn't speculate on whether people thought I was pregnant or not. Nobody said anything. Besides, by the formal event, I had received no confirmations from medical professionals about my pregnancy results. Any speculation would have been just that.

 The secrecy was most difficult when I got blood test results in my second doctor's appointment. I was with family and needed to get away for a quick GP visit. I was honest about needing to see a doctor about a blood test. What else would be so urgent on a Sunday in a suburb I don't live in? I couldn't think of a believable alibi. So a vague description of 'blood test' was the way to go. What needed such hurried attention, that I needed medical attention during a weekend away? My story to family, about results for a blood test, was causing worry. Was I ok? Was I sick? They didn't know what was happening. I couldn't focus on other people's confusion. Bigger questions were floating through my head about the actual pregnancy.

 A GP phoned the pathology company and they said the basic info on the phone. He said I had the hormone levels that put me at 2-3 weeks pregnant. Further details were faxed to the office. I would receive a physical copy of the scientific evidence about my pregnancy. 

 What now? I expected this to happen eventually. But I didn't thoroughly plan to fall pregnant quickly. Even when the news sunk in, it barely felt real. We heard stories about how common miscarriages are in the first trimester. People close to us had those experiences. I had to accept the reality that, regardless of what occurs in the future, I was pregnant in that moment.

 We then returned to a gathering of the extended family. They were just seeing us because we were in Sydney. We sat through a long lunch, keeping this secret. When is the 'right time' to tell family about a pregnancy? It's normal to wait a few months before sharing it online. But when should we tell loved ones? I felt even more conflicted because we don't see family often. I didn't want to return home and keep them in the dark for months. There's no perfect correct way to reveal a pregnancy. It's personal choice.

 I wanted to have a big announcement with most family members together. Hubby felt nervous about telling a big group. I wanted to respect my husband's decision to keep the pregnancy a secret. That choice lasted until some people had gone home, and some were still at the party. Then he made the legitimate choice to suddenly feel ready to share the news.

  There were smiles and a few tears on the faces of our closest family. Someone did ask whether it was planned. We planned to allow many months of trying. But I barely took less than two months to fall pregnant. Relatives were very practical. Where would we live? Would I continue my studies? I'm sure there's diversity in how families react to news of a pregnancy. My family was positive and real. Announcing a pregnancy was pretty simple with relatives. Ever family is different. We got lucky on that day.

 One thing was certain. I would need time to consider housing and work. My 3 weeks of pregnancy had happened in the first few weeks of a law degree. Although I had been oblivious for the first few weeks, which is very normal. I had suddenly been accepted into a degree a few days before the semester started. Including orientation week, I had became simultaneously three weeks into a degree and pregnancy. What are the odds? 

 Week 4 of pregnancy became a time of research and contemplation. We detected the pregnancy early enough, it allowed plenty of time to prepare. So all I wanted in week for was, as the marketing world calls it, information search in an early stage of the decision making process for housing and occupation.

 Early in the first trimester, we lived in a small apartment. It was time to consider a larger property. We could rent a house or buy one. Various neighbourhoods were options to live in. There was some time, but not forever. What would the future hold? Informed decisions would soon be needed.

 Also, would I stay in the degree for a career change? Surely I may as well take a break from studying. Should I balance it for at least a few months? Or do other priorities take over? Although organisations should not discriminate against pregnant women, I still am not obligated to do everything. I support the reduction of commitments to focus on what matters most.

 New business activities were also on the horizon. One of my previous business models didn't reach the goals I wanted. If something doesn't succeed for a few months, agile variation can bring projects closer to success. Alternative business approaches were required. 

 So there I was. It was the middle of March in 2018. What would happen next? Any next moves would need research then action. 

 At least in the short term, practicalities should be balanced with positivity. I became pregnant!

[operafantomet]

Can we just appreciate how this “Green Lady” costume in South Korea appears to have been made of an East Asian chrysanthemum (?) patterned silk? The orange silk in front also appears to be a traditional silk.

I also wonder if Raoul’s Final Lair suspenders in China is meant to emulate Japanese katagami patterns? But don’t quote me on that...