#its been like 3 chapters so you finally get to know what Zacks been hiding

[disdaidal]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

D'aww thank you hun! I'm not sure I can answer with five because all my favorite fics written by me don't even exist on the internet anymore. 🙊 But I can always try~

To the Moon and Back is something I'm currently working on and very excited about. It's a multichapter Final Fantasy 7 fic, Cloud/Zack, omegaverse, rated E etc.

Since it's my very first FF7 fic as well as my first published omegaverse fic ever, I was initially quite nervous to even start writing it let alone publish it. It has three published chapters on ao3, all of which have gotten positive feedback so far (and subs, I see ya <3), which obviously inspires me a lot. I'm already having lots of ideas for future chapters and also few good ideas how I'm going to end it, something which doesn't always happen to me (I just go with the flow, most of time). The story also has some non-traditional omegaverse elements because well, omegas and alphas don't always have to be so stereotypical, I think, and... truthfully... I just had a mighty craving for some sloppy bottom/omega!Zack the fandom is feeding me absolute crumbs in that sense and seems to think cloud's dick is just a pretty accessory XD I'm feeling like I can actually make my own rules here and it feels pretty damn good right now.

A Touch of Cinnamon, Gallahir/Witcher. Roommates, Friends to Lovers, multichapter, rated E. I answered in another tag game already why this story was such a passion project for me last autumn, but yeah. It was inspired by OneofWeb's Buttercup Tattoo series (some really nice works there <3), and I genuinely enjoyed writing and planning it. Like I also mentioned before, it's still a work in progress but never say never. :D

There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart), Harringrove/Stranger Things, Homelessness/Guardian Angels, multichapter, rated E.

How this story originally got its inspiration, well... once upon a time I watched a Japanese gay porn movie with a plot (gasp) and uhh, I might've expanded on that a little bit. *hides* Sadly the story only has one chapter that's been lying in wait for almost two years now, but... I am still thinking about it sometimes. I really liked the original idea (:P) and I still like the following story idea that I came up with, so hmm. Maybe if I get inspired to write something for this ship again, I could be tempted to continue this.

As for other two... I used to write plenty of rps bandfic back in the day and that one AU one-shot (or was it two-shot? anyway) I wrote somewhere around late 2008 I think, got a little bit smutty, a little bit 'problematic' as well, and man... what can I say, I still like that one. A lot, actually. The ship I wrote that fic for wasn't super popular in that band either but didn't matter to me.

And the fifth? One of my future works perhaps? :D

As for tagging... I already tagged a few people in previous tag games and I don't know how many of you actually care about doing these things, so... feel free to take this from me if you see this and want to do this. <3

[holly-fixation]

Ink Clouds: Chapter 18

Summary so far: Cloud is sent back in time by the calamity, and is now half squid that constantly spews ink that carries Geostigma. Tifa, Cloud, and Zack have all been interrogated separately about their time with the creature and why they’ve committed the stunts that they have. The last respondent is Sephiroth, but instead of the interrogators that wouldn’t be able to read his emotionless nature, it’s the only person he can’t control his emotions around: Hojo.

Based on the prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien

Please Enjoy!

Chapter 18: Glass

"No." Sephiroth didn't realize he voiced his thought allowed until the scientist gave a short, mocking laugh in reply.

"Still acting childish, are you?" He asked with a sick grin.

The silver general stared daggers into him and silenced.

This interrogator was enjoying it too much.

"Apparently so." Hojo held the back of his chair for a moment before pulling it back and gesturing to the open one near the silver haired man. "Have a seat."

Sephiroth only crossed his arms. He did not move or say anything. His blood boiled as he gripped his biceps for a semblance of self control.

"Come on," He taunted, "for old time's sake?"

"What do you want?" Sephiroth seethed, every ounce of his being poisoning the room.

Hojo laughed again. "Before you break something, let's talk like civilized people."

"Why. Are you. Here."

"Oh please," He scoffed. "Trained or not, those interrogators don't have what it takes to understand you in one conversation."

Because they're rightfully afraid of me. "And yet, they didn't need this field."

"I have a proposition for you," Hojo ignored his previous statement and took his seat.

Sephiroth's brow twitched in confusion and frustration.

The snake leaned back in his chair. "You want investigation clearance for the Nibelhiem reactor and the central mountains of the west, correct?"

His inhuman eyes narrowed, his thin pupils barely visible slits.

"And now, with that girl breaking in and that troop identical to the creature, the board has to accept my request for research."

"Congratulations," the general spat with so much sarcasm its venom was tangible.

"We'll need escorts." Now he had the general's attention. "And the monsters there are too much for low class SOLDIERS."

"...what do you gain from this?" Sephiroth questioned skeptically.

"I am a man of my work," He stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If an escort is my biggest inconvenience, I am living every scientists' dream."

"Even working with SOLDIER?"

He waved his hand at the inclination. "A bit more learning could do the lot of you some good. We'll give you access to the files we have on the creature, as well as whatever you find in the destinations."

He paused as he considered the deal. "...On one condition." He saw the 'scientist's' eyes brighten with satisfaction, even behind the black glasses. "We have as much access as we please to information we find in either location. Your team gives us the slightest suggestion to stop our investigation, we leave."

Hojo grinned. "Then, I believe we have a deal."

"And I believe we're done here," Sephiroth barely took a step away while speaking.

"Ah-ah-ah," The snake scolded. "You still have questions to answer." He could feel the fire in Sephiroth's returned eyes. "This is an interrogation after all."

Suddenly behind the chair again, Sephiroth's grip on the back caused a loud crunch to shoot through the room. This was it; the same as before: poked and prodded to Hojo's content as his underlings watched from one way mirrors, only watching, always ignoring the pain as they took notes in observation as it increased with each test.

"I'd say 'have a seat' if you didn't break the chair."

He glanced down at his hands. Sure enough, the supporting bar for the back cushion was crushed, buckled under his strength. That didn't matter though, he needed a way out of this situation, but he couldn't find one. All of SOLDIER was on the line for his insubordination; he needed to swallow his hatred and pride to protect his comrades, his friends. Any other investigator would have been fine, but it had to be him, right here, right now.

"Ask your questions," Sephiroth spat. Gods he was tired of seeing that monster's teeth.

But Hojo couldn't control his grin as he leaned forward and clamped his hands in front of him. "What are you and the creature hearing?"

His eyes widened for a millisecond and instantly returned to his angry gaze. Most people wouldn't see it because of its subtle and quick difference.

"Don't lie to me," Hojo demanded as if he could read the silver general's mind, just like before: poked and prodded to his heart's content.

"What I hear, is what the creature says," he started.

"Most of it," Hojo finished for him. Anyone else wouldn't make such an assumption, but Hojo could see through the silver haired boy like window glass since birth.

Any other investigator would have bought his answer. But Hojo knew more.

"Perhaps only part of it," Hojo realized as he observed Sephiroth’s reactions. "So, again, what do you hear?"

"You have to be more specific." He instantly regretted the words that left his mouth.

Hojo's smirk curled in vile curiosity.

That means more questions.

"Let's start with the first one that caused a reaction. 'Forgive'."

Crap, he's in a corner. His lies and half truths were caught instantly. He had no choice but to inevitably tell the truth, like the corner he protected himself in when they came in to start experiments, the child locked away in an examination room with no escape.

"You'll have to ask for a new one," He spat. "You can check your records for that."

"So you've told the creature what you hear?"

He nodded, but the slight glance away of his eyes was noticed.

"Not everything, though."

He let go of the chair before it shattered, clenching his fists at his sides.

Hojo gestured with his hand. "Go on. Tell me about ‘Forget’."

There was a pause, but it didn’t hold the same tension as the pauses when he tried to think of a lie. How long could he delay the inevitable? “It was nearly the same.”

“What did you hear?”

Another corner. He crossed his arms as he tried to think. His interrogator sighed and sat back.

“The faster you answer, the less time you spend here,” The ‘scientist’ reminded, nearly mocking.

“‘This time you won’t forget’,” He spoke with no emotion. Maybe he can get away with just one half truth.

“All of it,” Hojo corrected, and he could practically hear the curses going through the silver general’s head, reduced to the little lab rat was born as.

It wasn’t worth fighting anymore. He looked to the wall above the snake. He needed to avoid the bastard’s reactions or he would destroy everything in the room out of spite, just to delay progress on the only project R&D was permitted, but it was a project he needed to save his friend. “‘Is this the pain you felt before, Cloud? Let me remind you. This time you won't forget’.”

He could hear the breath of a smirk in response as the scientist brought his connected hands to his mouth. “And ‘Cherish’?”

“‘Tell me what you cherish most. Give me the pleasure of taking it away’.” Sephiroth had absolutely no emotion, and absolutely no eye contact. Even for him, it was off.

“And last: ‘Future’?”

Another hesitation. Another pause.

“All I need is an answer,” Hojo mentioned with a barely noticeable tilt of his head in eagerness. “Only one more question after this, and you’re free to go.”

He would take his chances at sounding insane if it meant even a second less in this godforsaken room. “‘And one day we’ll find a new planet, and on its soil we’ll create a shining future’.”

Sephiroth didn’t hear a response beyond a slight breath. He forced his gaze to lock straight ahead. He couldn’t move his eyes from the wall behind his tormentor.

“Why did you do what you did last time?”

“I don’t know.” There was a pause, but he kept his eyes steady and repeated. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what you did?” Hojo questioned.

Like glass.

“Would you like to find out?”

Sephiroth couldn’t stop himself from looking to the scientist in disbelief.

Hojo, with his slimy grin, slid an open tablet through the field.

And Sephiroth, like a dog spotting food fall from its master’s table, immediately grabbed it and hit the large play button on the security video, pushing the broken chair out of his way. The camera was in the far back corner away from the exit to this section of the lab. Sephiroth didn’t focus on that fact.

First, it was exactly as he remembered. The creature on his back, Zack a small but cautious distance away as they both questioned the creature. There was no audio in the recording, which was probably for the best.

Then the creature started yelling, and Zack immediately tried to stop it. But there were too many tentacles for the creature to work with to keep the First-in-training away. He was frozen for three seconds, then ripped the creature in front of him by its arm with his left hand. Then he used both of his hands to choke it, saying something as he did.

Zack unsheathed his sword and swung, probably to scrape his arm as a warning. But his right hand shot off of the creature to the wrist of his apprentice. Zack yelled his name. He responded with something, before letting go of the creature and grabbing Zack’s shoulder. Zack tried to break free. Then he turned Zack’s wrist until he cut his apprentice’s left arm.

The creature moved to him but he couldn’t tell what the goal was. He kicked it so hard it flew across the room to the corner wall of the exit and the tank. Then he looked to Zack, spoke again, and disarmed and took his apprentice’s sword before throwing them next to the creature. Then he threw the sword. It cut Zack’s left arm too as it jammed into the wall. Zack had barely dodged the direct strike.

Then he yelled ‘stop’ and grabbed his head. Zack pulled the sword out of the wall and used healing materia on the creature first. The creature nodded to Zack before looking at him with curiosity. Zack healed himself, but held his arm to check on wounds, but the materia worked.

Zack ordered them both and they both obeyed. Once they left the room, the video stopped.

His eyes didn’t leave the screen after the video ended. He just stared at the play button that appeared for seconds.

Hojo’s grin was ear to ear, but he made no comment, only the mocking lilt in his voice. “Thank you for your time. You’re all dismissed. My assistant will inform the rest of your little party.”

Sephiroth froze to process his words, then escaped through the now open door without another word.

.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!

[plasticnightmaredoll]

So, the "Justice League" finally got its own movie, eh? Oh, that thing from 2017 was just trash. It's gone. We don't need to look at it anymore.

But in all seriousness, it's great people called out for the Zack Snyder cut of the movie and actually got it! And, yes, it is a vast improvement over the Joss Whedon cut.

Now, my feelings about the DCEU have been pretty divided:

I actually did enjoy "Man of Steel" and found Superman to be relatable and likable for once (I'm not a Superman fan and don't come for me)

"Wonder Woman" was very entertaining and easily the best entry for me in the movie series so far.

"Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice" was a hot mess. Lots of good ideas but it was executed poorly. It felt kind of cheesy at times, especially that whole "Save Martha" thing. Jesse Eisenburg is not a convincing Lex Luthor. Ben Affleck is not a good actor and is a terrible Batman/Bruce Wayne. He's not as bad as George Clooney, but he's not much better either.

"Wonder Woman 1984" was a massive glow-down. Poor quality writing, Maxwell Lord was a weak villain, Cheetah was laughable, and the ending was so goddamn corny! Not to mention, it took ages for anything interesting to happen, and what was the deal with Steve Trevor possessing another dude's body? I mean...what?

Haven't seen "Suicide Squad" in its entirety but I do know and have seen enough to decide that it's a huge misstep. Haven't seen "Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)" either but I have some interest in it so perhaps someday.

Haven't watched "Aquaman" but probably will eventually but I'm just not very motivated to see it. I like Jason Mamoa as Aquaman/Arthur Curry, but...I don't know. The trailers didn't really grab my attention.

The 2017 Joss Whedon version of "Justice League" was terrible -- worse than "Batman v Superman," worse than "Wonder Woman 1984." I thought the movie moved too quickly, lacked proper character development, and had some bad CGI (I mean, Mustache Gate, am I right?)

Onto the Synder Cut for "Justice League!" Spoilers ahead, of course:

These are really a collection of thoughts, opinions, and observations I had while watching the movie. I have only seen the 2017 film once and honestly don't want to watch it ever again, not even to "refresh my memory" of some details.

Steppenwolf

Steppenwolf was such a pitiful villain in the Whedon Cut. The CGI for him was terrible, and he looked like some weird dude in armor. His personality and motives were paper thin as well. He was a throw-away, token villain, and the only things memorable about him was his name and voice.

In the Snyder Cut, not only was Steppenwolf's CGI much more refined, his character design was imposing. His armor seemed to be alive, too, always shifting slightly, this way and that, which was an impressive sight. His motives, while nothing too deep or extraordinary, gave him a little more depth: he pissed off Darkseid and had to make up for it, and was clearly afraid of what could happen to him if he failed.

The name and voice obviously were still memorable but combined with the other improvements to his character, they were icing on the cake.

That being said, I don't think Steppenwolf is as intriguing or even remotely sympathetic as Loki and Thanos in the MCU.

Darkseid

Was Darkseid even mentioned in the Whedon cut? I can't remember and I don't want to watch that shitty movie again just to find out. However, I don't recall Darkseid making an appearance or even being spoken of in the 2017 version. Now, I haven't read DC (or Marvel) comics, so I don't know a lot about the guy, but he is supposedly one of the more iconic villains.

His motives are pretty simple, though: command and conquer. There isn't a lot of depth so far in the movies but he does pose a much larger threat than Steppenwolf did. You could tell Steppenwolf was intimidated by Darkseid, who was about as cold and menacing as they come. He's a complete villain in that regard, having no emotions and only seeking power for himself.

He looked great in the Snyder Cut. He was actually really fucking scary-looking. He made the beefcake Steppenwolf look like a puppy.

I'm glad that Darkseid made an appearance, even if he didn't fight the Justice League. It alludes to a much broader story, as well as foreshadows an epic boss fight down the line -- assuming the Snyder Cut is popular enough to convince the studios to make a direct sequel and not just abandon things in favor of some sort of soft reboot.

Superman/Clark Kent/Henry Cavill/Mustache Gate

Let's get this out of the way: Henry Cavill is hot af.

Ok, now that we got that out of the way, hooray for Snyder for getting rid of those nasty reshoot scenes involving Henry's CGI'd mouth! Can't say I missed them, you know? I mean, in the 2017 Whedon Cut, you could always spot reshoot scenes based on whether or not Henry's mouth looked normal and totally strange.

I think the 2017 movie had Superman grab Batman by the neck and ask, "Tell me: Do you bleed?" I'm relieved that was removed from the Synder Cut because it added too much of an evil tone to Superman, and we could clearly tell he was most upset with Batman upon being revived.

One massive problem with the 2017 movie was that it made every member of the Justice League look like bumbling idiots without Superman's help. It was downright embarrassing and unrealistic. I mean, you're telling me that Wonder Woman, a goddess, can't take on Steppenwolf? Or Victor Stone, a cyborg with incredible abilities? Making Superman key to winning isn't the problem, it's how it was done in the 2017 movie. He's already OP but that shouldn't mean his comrades have to be useless in comparison.

Superman was allowed to be OP in the Snyder Cut without making his team look incompetent. Like in the Avengers movies, everyone in the Justice League had a purpose and all of them worked together to defeat Steppenwolf. Superman obviously was key to winning, but, again, it wasn't like he was the only capable one during the battle.

I did like the black suit. It's kind of ominous but also very cool at the same time. But is it also foreshadowing something? I don't know...I haven't read the comics so I really don't have any idea lol.

Batman/Bruce Wayne/Batfleck

One glaring issue I still have is Ben Affleck is a mediocre actor at best and he's a terrible Bruce Wayne/Batman. I mean, they couldn't have found anyone else? Someone with, like, good acting abilities?

Martian Manhunter

This whole time -- THIS WHOLE GOTDAMM TIME -- Martian Manhunter was hiding in plain sight! General Swanwick, who I remember from "Man of Steel," IS Martian Manhunter. I didn't see that coming. I mean, I knew Martian Manhunter would appear in the Snyder Cut but I didn't know he'd have an alternate identity, let alone that of an existing character in the DCEU.

As much as I did like seeing him, I am glad he didn't play a big part because the movie already has plenty of characters as is, and introducing yet another one could have slowed things down and taken away from developing the plot.

The Runtime/Pacing

I mentioned already that the Whedon Cut felt rushed and needed much more time to develop its characters and plot. While I had doubts about whether or not making "Justice League" four hours long would be a good idea, it turns out that it was just what the story needed.

Character development was actually existent, and Cyborg/Victor Stone received a detailed backstory, and Flash/Barry Allen got some extra tidbits added to his character's story/background as well.

I actually thought Victor was a fascinating (if a bit tragic) character in the Whedon cut and was disappointed that he just sort of, like, popped up and fought alongside the other Justice League members with the tiniest amount of depth.

Despite an epic 4-hour runtime, it didn't feel slow, nor did it feel like any scenes were "filler." Every scene had a purpose and kept the story moving at a steady, comprehensible pace. It felt more like a 2.5-3 hour movie, honestly, which is a feat since pacing can often be one of a film's biggest issues ("Avengers: Endgame" also accomplished this feat with its 3-hour runtime feeling more like 2-2.5 hours but with no negative side effects of that). Breaking the movie into chapters, including an epilogue was a tad strange because it's not a very common thing, but I think it helped break up the epic 4 hours into separate, manageable but still cohesive pieces. Also, they helped easily transition from one portion to the next smoothly without any awkward cuts.

The Flash/Barry Allen/Ezra Miller

Barry still amused me in the Whedon Cut. He brought some good-natured humor and charm to the movie, preventing it from being too brooding and intense.

I think Ezra is a talented actor and does well in the Barry Allen role but he is, unfortunately, a problematic person. I mean, if he gets recast, he gets recast but hopefully, they pick someone else who has some acting abilities worth noting (i.e. Not a Ben Affleck type of actor)

The Final Battle

It was a huge improvement over the 2017 cut, as everyone was key to winning the final battle, not just Superman. It is meant to be a team of costumed heroes defeating a villain, not just one OP member of the team outdoing everyone else.

That being said, I felt that the final battle was a little bit anti-climatic. I don't know what it was but I just thought that it would be longer? I expected more to happen? More fighting? Not sure how to describe it, but I do feel like it wasn't as impressive as it could have been.

The Epilogue

A dystopian future involving an evil Superman and Joker somehow working WITH Batman was just...crazy. I mean, evil Superman, I can believe, but Joker and Batman working together (even reluctantly) is quite a sight.

Based on what I've been reading, this nightmare Bruce has could be setting up not one but two sequels for "Justice League." I would like to see how things will play out even if things get kind of dark. I'm getting the impression that Darkseid will kill Lois Lane, thus breaking Superman emotionally and making him compliant. That is unless Bruce intervenes in this timeline and prevents that from happening...but at the expense of his own life. Oh dear...

I definitely enjoyed the Zack Snyder version of "Justice League," and would definitely watch it again and again and again. I already have forgotten the majority of the Whedon Cut, and after seeing Synder's version, I think the 2017 movie will be rendered null and void. I hope it is just expelled from the DCEU canon entirely. That, and we get the "Justice League" sequels, preferably from Zack Snyder (Say what you want but I think he is a pretty good director for the most part and seems to really care about this work).

I honestly want to see a fight between the Justice League and Darkseid because I think that's what we're trying to build up to, and seeing as how Darkseid is one of the legendary villains in the DC comics, I would be extremely disappointed if this doesn't come to pass.

Also, as much as I like Batman/Bruce Wayne, seeing him sacrifice himself to save the team, including Lois and thus Superman's sanity, would be something else. It would bring everyone even closer together, for one, and I think that the negativity shared between Batman and Superman in the past would be completely forgiven. I'm not saying there isn't forgiveness now, but dying to save Superman's wife would change everything....if that makes sense? Does it make sense? I'm terrible at explaining my thoughts sometimes.

[gothamsforgottenchildren]

The Forgotten Children Chapter 3

Zack

“Okay I get why you need to be here, but why did I have to come tonight?” Leigh Ann asks. She is tugging at the collar of her turtleneck like it is too tight or is uncomfortable. It’s a dark red sleeveless, turtleneck top, with built-in armor and has gold accents. It’s paired with a gladiator skirt, boots, and forearm guards. It’s a good thing we don’t have to worry about her getting cold.

I roll my eyes at the radiant girl. She’s been messing with her outfit since she put it on. That’s what she gets for wearing her new suit for the first time in the field.

“You’re here as backup so no one tries anything. Also, stop messing with that, you’re gonna stretch it out,” I say.

She groans, throwing her arm dramatically on the ground, “Do you honestly think anyone will show?”

I shrug, “It’s Gotham.”

She snorts, but nods. This causes her long brown hair to fall into her face. To anyone else, it would cause her features to be lost in a shadow, but for me, I can easily see the grin on her lips, and the fire in her dark brown eyes. Leigh Ann has always been easy to read if you can see her eyes. The light within them is currently dancing like flames in a bonfire, playful.

“Whatcha lookin at?” she asks me, pulling her hair up into a slick high ponytail.

“Just you,” I say. I know she won’t take it the wrong way. We’ve known each other too long for that to happen.

She shakes her head at me, “I love you but you’re a psychoanalyzing dork.”

She isn’t wrong, so I can’t really say anything. We sit in silence for a while, I’m just enjoying the warmth of her company. When I hear something from in the distance. It was footsteps, lots of them. “We’ve got company,” I warn her, standing up and moving into position.

I watch as she climbs off the roof of one of our warehouses by the sea pier in the Amusement Mile. She may not be as fluid as Kat, but she knows what she’s doing. By the time Penguin’s thugs show up, she’s waiting for them and I’m hidden in the shadows.

The Penguin not long ago was injured badly by the Red Hood, and ever since then, his gang has been wreaking havoc on everyone. They have no boss giving them orders, so they’ve turned into essentially a gang of anarchists. The main problem with that is they seem to think that we’re low enough on the totem pole to be a victim of their riots.

When they see Leigh Ann or as they know her, The Devil’s Flame, I see mixed reactions throughout the group. Some of them are scared, some notice that she’s by herself and gets excited, and some are angry. Ignatius Ogilvy steps to the front, he’s Penguin’s right hand within the gang.

He’s a white man with blonde hair. He’s dressed well for a guy who’s supposedly going to get his hands dirty. Honestly, I believe that he’s the boss who sits there and does nothing while his underlings do all the work. It’s going to get him killed one of these days.

I cock my head to focus my hearing on his heartbeat. It’s elevated. I can smell the fear rolling off of him. He’s nervous around Leigh Ann. Good, he should be.

She stands her ground. Her body is open and in a relaxed stance, but one she could quickly fight in. To be fair though, she doesn’t really have to move much to hurt people.

“This warehouse is under the protection of the Second Borns, you need to leave,” Leigh Ann says. She is looking Ignatius dead in the eye, waiting for his move.

I hear his heart rate spike as he debates what he is going to do. He lifts both hands in the air in the classic “I surrender” pose, but then he tilts his head, dropping his hands and shrugs. “It’s dangerous for a beautiful lady like yourself to be all alone in Gotham at night,” he says.

“I can handle myself just fine,” she says.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, before pointing a finger at her, yelling, “Get her!” Then I watch as all of his men storm at Leigh Ann or should I call her the Devil’s Flame because that’s who she truly is in moments like this. She is no longer the girl I know with kind eyes that have a dancing flame, she is now a roaring forest fire that only wants to burn everything in its path. Her entire body becomes alight. Her onyx-colored eyes are engulfed in flames along with the rest of her body. She is the human embodiment of destruction and she does it all with a smile on her face. I have to look away because looking at her is like staring at the sun, which is too much for my sensitive eyes. I hear the screams though. I’m sent here to protect her, as backup, but I’m rarely needed.

I make myself busy by watching the skyline. The entire area around me is illuminated by her power. It makes it harder for me to hide, but it also makes it harder for others. I notice movement in a window a ways away from us, in a building that should be abandoned. There’s a sniper in that room taking aim at Leigh Ann. Or at least trying to. It’s hard to aim at something so bright, I bet they didn’t think it was going to be here in charge of watching the docs. It’s normally just me. We’re currently trying to claim them for ourselves.

I take off anyway though. With one leap from the ground, I unfurl my wings, pushing them down to gain height from the ground. Now even though I am flying I still try to stick to the shadows the best I can. If they try to shoot at Leigh Ann, they will most likely miss or the bullet will melt because of the heat. If they shoot at me, I can be shot out of the air, which sucks.

Flying is one of my favorite things, even if I don’t like how sore it leaves me after. I love the feeling of the wind flowing through my hair. I purposefully keep my brown hair longer than I should because it makes the sensation so much better.

I get to the spot where I can quickly fly across and take the person out. I fly across to the window, left to where they are. I move so quietly that they don’t notice me. I open the window and slip in. The room is empty and dark. I can see a door on the right wall, joining the two rooms. Once I finish picking the lock, I open the door to see an older man’s back facing me. He is a white man in his late forties. He isn’t anyone important, no one I need to think twice about before crossing, or killing. I walk across the room, silent. When I finally get to the other side, where I stand right behind him. I clear my throat. I wish I can see his face, but his back is to me. Before he can even turn around, I’m grabbing his head in my hands and snapping his neck.

I let his body drop to the ground, grabbing his gun and unloading it. Then I step over his body and climb out the window he had shot out of.

I take off again, this time flying towards Leigh Ann. I can tell that she’s finished most of them off, or at least scared them off. Leigh Ann typically tries to maim instead of kill. I swoop down to one of the men trying to escape, grab his head, and twist it while flying up. Once I’m twenty feet in the air I drop his body on a woman trying to run away as well. I look up in Leigh Ann’s direction, her bright flames are starting to dim, as she’s powering down.

I land next to her, just as the last few disappear into the shadows that are Gotham City. She is grinning when she turns to me. She’s upset about something though, judging by the dampened light in her eyes. It looks like a fire out in the rain; fighting to stay alight against the force of the cold attacking it.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her. It isn’t right for someone as radiant as her to be so dim.

Her grin slips for a second, “It’s nothing important, I’ll talk to you about it when we’re somewhere secure. We need to leave because this fire show is likely to attract unwanted attention,” she whispers. She knows I can always hear her.

With that, we start our walk home. I feel the ache in my shoulders and back start. I should take a long hot bath when I get home. I must be walking weirdly because Leigh Ann wraps her arm under the coat concealing my wings, applying warm heat, soothing my sore muscles. I wrap my arm over her shoulder, and she leans her head against my side as we walk.

“Does that help at all?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, trying not to shudder. Apparently, I don’t succeed, because she chuckles when I do. “We need to stop and let you change though, or at least throw on a coat. You’re too noticeable in that outfit,” I tell her.

“Okay Dad,” she says, pulling apart from me, and reaching into the garbage bin where we stored her clothes earlier and sliding on a pair of black pants, a red turtleneck, and a dark brown mini trench-coat.

We walk along in silence for a while, just trying to blend in. We have to make sure no one is following us back to our home. I decide that it was safe to start the descent home, when I hear a sound, my knees buckle and I fall, clutching my head. I vaguely catch Leigh Ann’s scared expression out of the corner of my eye before I blackout.

I wake up to warm hands and silence. I’m now in an alley with sound-canceling headphones on. My head is laying in Leigh Ann’s lap, her hands combing through my hair. I reach up towards the dial that controls how soundproof the headphones are, and turn them down slightly. I can still hear the noise, but it’s manageable now.

I look around, taking in my surroundings. There are brick walls on either side of me, Gotham’s starless night sky is overhead. It’s as dull and lifeless as always. There is too much pollution in Gotham to see stars. The weirdest part is the fire escapes. They are the kind installed in residential areas.

“In an alley. We’re just a couple blocks over from where we were,” Leigh Ann said.

I look at her in a panic. Why would she bring us to a random ally in Gotham if one of us is down?

“Don’t give me that look, we’re totally safe,” Leigh Ann said, rolling her eyes at my paranoia, “This area of Gotham is relatively safe. Plus, you’re super heavy.”

I pull myself out of her lap and lean against the brick wall, shuddering from the sudden lack of warmth. I lean my head back, looking up, trying to piece together what happened. I remember the sound. Knowing that the headphones are probably blocking out the noise, I turn the dial down. Then I hear it. It is a high-pitch ringing. It’s super familiar.

My eyes widen, “We have to go! The sound it’s someone’s emergency beacon.”

I watch Leigh Ann’s head whip towards me, causing her ponytail to hit her in the face. She ignores it. She whips her phone out of her pocket. I watch as she presses the first number on her emergency contact list. Riddle.

I know because my phone’s set up the same way. All our phones are programmed to have him listed as our first contact on our emergency contact list.

“Riddle? We have a problem,” Leigh Ann says into the phone, getting up to pace the ally.

I can’t hear his side of the conversation because of my headphones. I’d be willing to bet his response was a shortcut, “What?”.

“Someone’s emergency beacon has been activated,” says Leigh Ann. She stops pacing, tilting her head to the side, and furrowing her eyebrows in the way she does when she’s really trying to pay attention to what someone is saying. This is until her eyes widen, the flames in them sparking for a second. She pulls the phone from her face saying, “Of course you knew this already.” She then turns to me looking exasperated. “Who told you?” she asks, before exclaiming, “Robert!”

I roll my eyes at her. It’s not a hard puzzle to figure out. Robert very rarely leaves the house, and when he does, Riddle’s normally with him.

“Ask Riddle what he wants us to do,” I tell her.

I watch as she asks Riddle my question. She makes that face again, before pulling her phone away and quickly shoving it in her coat pocket. “He wants you to find whoever's triggered the alarm. Once you do make sure it’s safe to enter before you engage. He explicitly told me to tell you not to throw yourself in danger if it can be avoided.”

I stand up, nodding, “Am I taking you with me, or leaving you behind?”

“Behind for now. Once you get intel on the situation, your orders are to engage only if necessary and then call in using our phones to get more orders,” she says quickly. She is clearly upset but trying to stay focused. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to stop and console her, but I know that I don’t. I have to go.

Leigh Ann is caught up in her thoughts. She’s looking towards the mouth of the ally. I take off my jacket, wad it up, and chuck it at her. I listen to her shriek in surprise, before jumping up to take off into the air.

Before I even got to the building I could smell the blood. I know it’s Kat’s. His blood smells different than everyone else's because of his mutation.

“Shit Kat,” I whisper when I land on the neighboring building, “What did you do?”

[lovelyladyventress]

Tell me which one of these AUs sounds the most interesting and which one you’d like to read more about? (uhh rep0st?)

I’m reposting this since TUMBLR HATES MY POST/TAGS OR SOMETHING, SORRY IF YOU’VE ALREADY SEEN THIS!

Here I am, back at it again with my AU bullshit. Complete with my ugly ass dauntingly long list of AUs that I’d love to write about but can’t seem to 

decide which one to start writing. This has been going on for the past week, dammit! If it’s not too much trouble, could you please help a girl out and let me know either on here or in a PM which one of these you’re curious about or would like to see implemented in an actual story.

Here are four Cloud-centric AU ideas which include (multiple) gay, bi, and (some) straight main/side pairings. Regardless of which one I decide to write first, I (wistful thinking) want to eventually complete most or all of them, even if some of them only end up being one-shots. Thank you! <3

Mercenary Zack and Delivery Boy Cloud AU

Zack, a mercenary, and Cloud, a delivery boy, have been best friends since they were youngsters. Zack is straight but is undeniably (and confusingly into Cloud. Cloud is bi (with a strong leaning towards males) and he’s only recently started to explore that. One day, while Zack and Cloud are hanging out, Zack’s PHS dies and he asks to borrow Cloud’s laptop to check some work-related emails. Cloud says sure, completely forgetting what he’d been “researching” before Zack came over to hang out.

Cloud, suddenly remembering the content of said “research”, screeches out, “NoOoOoO!” whilst comically tripping over himself as he races to stop Zack from opening his laptop.

Zack, being Zack, laughs good-naturedly at Cloud’s behavior and says, “What, don’t want your bestie to see all your fReAkY sHiT LOL?”

Before Cloud can stop him, Zack unlocks the laptop (he knows the password, because, hello, besties) and proceeds to open up about ten tabs of LOUD GAY LEMONY YOU KNOW WHAT (all with actors that are blond and black-haired, hmm s u s p i c i o u s).

Cloud is fucking mortified and literally RUNS out of his own apartment and disappears (disintegrates) into the void while leaving Zack sitting there like a stunned D U M B A S S *insert shocked Pikachu meme here* Hilarity, fluffy romance, and “LeMoNs” ensue.

Main ship and only ship will be Clack/Zakkura. Syrupy sweet, comical, with only a pinch of plot-related angst. Will most likely be a one-shot/two-shot.

Vampire Slayer AU

Set in a world where Shinra keeps the existence of vampires and vampire covens a well-guarded secret from the general public of Midgar in order to keep its citizens calm, orderly, and manageable (see controllable).

Due to the frequency of recent vampire attacks in Midgar’s slums and outlying towns and villages, they charge their best slayer, Cloud Strife, and his partner with the task of finding and killing the progenitor of all vampire-kind in order to end the covert war between humans and vampires and kill off their kind, for good.

That is, until Cloud is double-crossed by his partner, who wants the title of Shinra’s best vampire slayer for himself, and Cloud is left for dead in a forest miles away from civilization. Cloud thinks he’s finally done for this time, until he’s saved by a half-vampire named Vincent, who then proceeds to take Cloud to his maker, Sephiroth, the son of the first progenitor.

Cloud’s only shot at making it out of this alive is playing at Sephiroth’s personal interest in him in a game of cat and mouse until he can get the vampire to trust him enough to let him get close to the progenitor in order to (finally) end the war once and for all and return to his former life.

Main ships are Sefikura with a possibility of some Strifentine. Side ships are Aerti, Scarlet x Elena, and a bunch of others. Angsty, passionate, romantic, and dark. Will probably be a six-shot or more. Who knows?

Life After Meteorfall Canon Divergence AU (I’m excited about this one)

An AU in which both Angeal, Zack, and Aerith (although, just barely) live and help kick Sephiroth’s ass in the final battle. Sephiroth has been defeated by the gang for good (no really, for good y’all), and now the world has turned to healing, mourning, and attempting to rebuild itself after the scars Sephiroth has left behind in his monstrous wake.

Cloud still has lingering feelings for Zack leftover from his time as an infantryman, but desperately hides this fact from both Aerith and Zack because he knows how long they’ve waited and how much suffering they’ve had to endure in order to be with each other. He also cares deeply for both of them and wants them to be happy, despite his own conflicting emotions.

Although Aerith is (slightly) suspicious, Zack is oblivious to it all because he’s finally got the girl of his dreams and has his love-addled goggles on (god dammit Zackary) and asks Cloud to be his best man at their wedding (ugh angst me upppppp baby).

Angeal, however, is not oblivious to it in the slightest. He sees the overly forced smiles, the longing stares, the glances of complete and utter h e a r t b r e a k Cloud shoots Zack when he thinks no one is watching/paying attention to him. And finally, fed up after months of sitting back and just silently observing Cloud falling into emotional ruin, Angeal finally intends to do something about it, honor be damned.

Main ship is Cloudgeal. Side pairings are Zerith, Rude x Tifa (don’t judge me, y’all, I ship SO MUCH this fandom), and possibly many more. Angsty, fluffy, romantic, and with a ridiculously happy ending where everyone reaches a happy, healthy understanding. Will most likely be either a three-shot or a six-shot.

Omegaverse SOLDIER AU (let me liveeeeeee, dammit!)

After failing to get into SOLDIER three times in a row (the max amount of times one can attempt in their lifetime) and having his childhood dream of becoming a hero shattered like glass, Cloud, a Beta cadet, is more than done with SOLDIER and everything to do with the corrupt Shinra Corporation (Uh huh. Suuuuure).

This opinion is only further solidified when Cloud discovers the tragic fate of his hometown: Nibelheim, in an “unprecedented” explosion of its Mako Reactor, burns to the ground, resulting in the deaths of Cloud’s mother and every single person Cloud grew up with. With no home to return to, Cloud, following his best friend Zack Fair’s advice, begrudgingly decides to join the Shinra military as an infantryman and work as a menial grunt for the military’s more prominent SOLDIER members.

That is, until one day during a mission Cloud’s entire unit, including a group of skilled Third and Second Class SOLDIERS assisting them, are slaughtered in a brutal, bloody conflict, leaving Cloud the only one left alive after the mission’s end.

This not only catches the eye of the Director of SOLDIER himself, but several of its First Class members, who are so impressed with the Beta’s strength that they wish to assess Cloud’s capabilities for themselves, personally. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

This leads Cloud down a path filled with convincing lies and hard truths as he discovers the reality of his origins, unveiling secrets about Shinra and his past that he could have gone a lifetime without knowing. He realizes the hard way that sometimes what you dream for, what you desperately wish for, isn’t always something you want in the long run.

Main ships are a tie between Sefikura and Clack/Zakkura (possibly Sephiroth/Cloud/Zack or maybe even a love triangle, ew). I also really wanna try writing out Strifesodos, but I’m leaning towards Banorashipping as a side ship in this cuz its cute and passionate.

A S T R O N G side ship in this is going to be Aerti (featuring Turk!Tifa and Full Cetra!Aerith), along with minor ships like Scarlet x Elena, Tseng x Rufus, and honestly who  knows anymore, lol. This will most likely be the longest story on the list, I’m planning for at least ten+ chapters.

Also, not shaming it in any way, but just FYI for the people who are interested, there will be no pregnancy in this story. It’s just not my thing. <3

Again, all of these AU’s are subject to change, but I’d love to bounce ideas back and forth and see what certain shippers would like to see in the fandom. I’m really receptive to discussing fics in general, even if its an idea about one of your own stories you wanna talk about. :)

If you actually read all of that, THANK YOU KINDLY! <33333

[bananaink]

KeGo December Day 11 - Loud

Izuku was running as fast as he could, ducking and zick-zacking his way through the flood of students. Heart hammering in his chest and turning around a corner, he barely evaded Aizawas scarf zipping by his waist. Panting, he glanced over his shoulder, finding Aizawa a good distance away but quickly catching up. The adults’ hair was down and his eyes not flashing red so Izuku used that to his advantage, slapping the next student he saw with his palm.

A surprised yelp, then he felt the ground just behind his feet shake and lift up. He didn’t care what the other students quirk did, he just jumped to the side, sidestepping a floating tile and then running around another corner in a very tight curve. He smacked against the wall there but after running for a few more seconds he didn’t feel the angry glare digging into his neck, so he quickly and carefully crouched low behind a door and glanced back.

No Aizawa. Just confused students rubbing their heads.

Suspiciously squinting, Izuku scanned the hall, but no enraged black jumpsuit bulldozed his way through the many different students, so Izuku tentatively decided that he had left the underground hero behind for now. Somewhere at least. But he couldn’t be sure and as experience had taught him – standing still was a death sentence. He looked up and was met with the big dining hall and a good number of stares send his way. The older students were used to him running around the school and only gave him a small wary glance, but the new ones, the fresh ones, here for a few days, openly stared at his disheveled look. Hair askew, wet with red paint on one side, yellow on the other, shirt muddy and pants covered in even more paint. Who would have thought painting an All Might mural would have to use up so much paint? Now – where should he hide?

“There you are.”

Izuku squeaked and rolled to the side, scrambling up to sprint as Aizawas scarf got hold of his foot.

“Shit!”, Izuku gasped and face-planted on the ground. He turned around, kicking his legs out and trying to entangle the scarf, but Aizawa managed to get his other foot and reeled him in like a very big, wriggly fish. Izuku had barely a second to estimate the true scale of the trouble he had put himself into before he found himself staring up at his guardian, lying flat on his back. A red splash of paint dripped down Aizawas face and hit Izuku on the cheek. Nervously grinning, Izuku put both hands together, palm against palm and took a breath.

“Heeey, what’s up? Didn’t see you there! Like what you’ve done with your costume!”, he babbled high-pitched and subtilty tried to kick his legs free but his guardians eyes had a dangerously red glint to them. So Izuku gave him two little jittery finger guns, trying to sound casual.

“Suits you.”

Aizawa just glared some more, blue splatters thankfully taking a little bit away from the burning picture of anger in his face and Izuku felt sweat running down his neck.

“Um, so, okay, let me just say that I didn’t mean for the paint to explode like it did and that I have an excellent explanation for the question I can feel coming. The answer might surprise you.”

But Aizawa didn’t want to hear it. Instead he blew a breath out of his nose like a bull in front of the color red. Izuku gulped.

“Aizawa, uhm, you look kinda, you know, murderous and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to look at your helpless, innocent and hardworking foster child like-”

Suddenly the loudest, piercing alarm screamed through the cafeteria and Izuku clasped both hands over his ears. For a very confused second, he thought that Aizawa was responsible for the sound – patience finally snapping -, but then he saw Aizawa straightening up. Despite the colorful splatters of paint over his jumpsuit Izuku immediately recognized the underground hero coming forth and his nerves thrummed with the sudden change.

Izuku kicked his feet in earnest and tried to stand up – get up get up get up, away from the ground – when AIzawa gripped his scruff and pulled him to his feet. The scarf entangled itself and wrapped back around Aizawas throat, while Izuku took a step closer to the hero. He didn’t let go of his scruff.

“Security Level 3 has been broken. All students - please evacuate in an orderly fashion.”, echoed a prerecorded message through the speakers and Izuku instinctively looked at Aizawas face, searching for a sign if he needed to freak out as much as he was.

“What is that?”

“The alarm?”

“What happened?”

Suddenly there was so much movement around them, everyone jumping up and racing to the exits, stumbling over themselves in a hurry. Izuku startled at the students running so close by and even got an elbow to the shoulder before he pressed his back at Aizawa, still holding his hands over his ears.

The pro hero let him, loudly speaking over the alarm to the students closest to them.

“Someone infiltrated the building.”, he said and frowned over the panicked students, obviously displeased with the rapidly growing mass of people blocking the exits. He pulled himself up to his impressive height.

“Calm down.”, he commanded loudly to the students turning to him for guidance and grabbed a girl that had been pushed from behind. Steadying her, he frowned after the kids pushing their ways to the doors.

“I’ll find out what's going on. In the meantime, stay calm and evacuate.”

Aizawas scarf shot out and caught a boy who had fallen to his knees.

“And help your classmates.”

With that he started pointing and ordering and generally dictating the kids around him to stay calm, move, stop pushing – but Izuku was too busy fighting off his fight or flight response jerking in his limbs, the only thing keeping him grounded was the strict hand holding his scruff. The alarm, combined with the bodies drowning him in sound and touch and movement threatened to sweep him away, out of the now and into the then. The room full of bodies, stuffed together like sardines, moaning, screeching, crying and pleading, Izuku right in the middle because he had been bad, had opened his big mouth and said something his father didn’t like.

He felt himself slipping, hands twitching over his ears, losing his grip on his birth quirk in a mass of agitated quirked people - and when another elbow dug into his sternum, he pushed it away a little bit too roughly. A shout and he dumbly watched a boy almost twice his height shrinking down to the size of his boot. Immediately Aizawas hand left his scruff, but before Izuku could truly panic - don’t leave me here don’t leave me here don’t leave please – two strong hands grabbed him under his armpits and lifted him from the floor. Rigid and tense he suddenly sat on top of Aizawas shoulders and out of the living mass around them.

His guardian hadn’t stopped shouting and directing but now he had two hands to do so, without the threat of an unstable liability setting of people's quirks at random. Izuku felt his breaths coming in short rattling gasps, but his ears had stopped ringing for now – or he had stopped hearing in general because the high pitched whistled couldn’t be healthy. Healing already buzzed through his whole body and he crossed his ankles over Aizawas chest to better hold on to the moving pro hero. He buried his hands in Aizawas hair, without tugging too hard at him, and felt for his quirk, the familiar glow of sight, the piercing prickle in his fingertips, as if holding a weightless little hedgehog with too long spikes.

Aizawa startled as his hair lifted itself up but kept working despite his active quirk. Izuku knew he should let go, shouldn’t use his quirk on his guardian, busy with directing the evacuation - but he couldn’t stop his birth quirk from reacting to the stress, from reaching out out out and holding onto something he knew was good and comforting and safe. He caressed Aizawas quirk awake despite the pins and needles it send out, curled in on himself as much as he could and waited the panic out.

It really didn’t take too long, someone somewhere screaming about journalists and false alarms and that everything would be fine. Aizawa patted his right leg as the general panic simmered down to a nervous chatter around them, so Izuku reluctantly let go of Aizawas quirk to stuff his hands in the scarf instead, rubbing the material between his fingertips - away from the quirk and away from reaching out again. He found the color blue staining his hands and stared at it. Everything was fine. They were fine. Aizawa was already moving on and talking to one of Ectoplasms clones to find out what had happened. There was no reason for his ears to still ring, for his heart to hammer its way out of his chest. No reason for him to stay up on Aizawas shoulders, curled around him and eyes blinking away the resurfacing memories. But Aizawa didn’t set him down and Izuku didn't feel like getting down on his own. So, he focused on breathing and staying as still as possible.

Everything was fine.

If he had taken a quick look outside, as Aizawa was beelining for the principal's office, he would have seen the crumbled entrance, reduced to a mere pile of dust

_________

So, now that I have taken care of most of my earthly duties as a human, I want to write today to at least get another prompt in.

I’m so far back, guys, send help ᕕ(◉Д◉)ᕗ

But before, check out @banashee - her day 15 is so cute, I loved it! Short and sweet and everything good!

Also, as usual, this chapter is crossposted on AO3 :D I will now fade back into my cave, thank you for your patience.

[timelock97]

Time Never Stops

Chapter Six: How Could I Not Love You?

Word Count: 3073

Prologue   Ch 1   Ch 2   Ch 3   Ch 4   Ch 5

Warning: Implied Smut / Language / Fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I take a step back, "You, what?" I whisper, looking at him with my eyebrows knitted together, my hands unclenching.

"I love you." He whispers, moving toward me, cupping my face. My lips quiver and I pull away from him, running my hands through my hair.

"No, no, no, you can't." I try and reason, my mind not being able to comprehend what he was saying.

"Why the hell can't I?!" He fumes, moving toward me again, catching my arm as I try to go up the stairs to hide.

"It's not fair!" I yell, a few tears falling down my face as I spin around to face him, yanking my arm from his grasp. "I have been pinning over you for years!" I place my hands on his chest to push him away, but he catches my wrists, holding me there. Frustrated tears begin to fall down my cheeks, "And here you are telling me that you love me. I'm just me, Tom."

"(Y/N)..." he breathes, he lets go of one of my wrists. They fall to my sides as his thumbs brush against my face to wipe the tears away.

"You shouldn't love me, Tom." A sob escapes my lips as I lift a hand to cover my mouth. "I don't fit in your world. The only reason we are still friends is because we don't know how not to be. How can you love me?" I whimper, my greatest fear about our relationship out in the open. In reality, I was terrified to lose him. Tom is my rock, my late night pick-me-up, my everything. Without him, what did I have?

"How could I not love you?" Tom whispers, cupping my face, not forcing me to look at him, "You're my best friend. You know when I need you, even if it's just leaving me voicemails to make my day better. You drop plans and make time to fly out when I am stressed. You talk me down when I am on edge and make me think rationally. You," he lets out a sigh brushing his thumbs under my eyes gently, "you are the one person I can rely on and can confine in and I would be so lost without you." Tom lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "And you don't fit? (Y/N), that is such a lie. You have always fit in my life, hell I can't remember a time you weren't in my life. My friends are your friends. My co-stars ask about you all the time, doesn't help that I talk about you all the time. My, no, our fans love you! Have you not seen all the fanart and edits that they make of us?"

We both let out a wet laugh, my hand finding its place on top of his on my face, finally meeting his eyes for a minute. "Those make the days that I miss you so much better, next to being able to actually talk to you, of course."

Tom smiles at me, "And, my family loves you. You sometimes know more about them then I do. Hell, sometimes I think they love you more than me." He laughs, his hand that isn't covered in my own moves to my waist.

"Tom," I whisper, hand moving from on top of his hand to wrap around his wrist. "I- I."

"Say it," Tom breathes, his forehead pressing into mine. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, but his cologne overpowers my senses, and in the moment I can't focus on anything else except him surrounding me.

I let out a soft laugh, my nose brushing against his. "I love you, Tom." With that, my back is against the wall and his lips are pressing against mine. The kiss pouring all our unspoken emotions out into it. It's not like any kiss I have had. Some can be hot and passionate, soft and barely there, or the most awkward thing that any person can experience. Kissing Tom was like coming home for the first time in a long time. It was comforting, filled with love, and made me feel like letting go would never be an option again. My hands tangle into his hair, pulling him as close to me as I could while his hand on my waist tightens. A soft gasp leaves my mouth at the feeling and Tom takes the chance to deepen the kiss. The two of us stay like that for what feels like an eternity, but we have to eventually part for air. We pull away panting, his forehead pressed to mine with tired smiles grace our bruised lips.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he pants, smiling at me.

"That is definitely better than what I imagined," I giggle, brushing my nose against his.

"Oh, so you've imagined kissing me?" His voice deepens, lips grazing against my neck and collar bone, my own body reacting by revealing more of my neck to him. Tom continues to kiss my skin before trailing his lips up to my ear, "What else have you imagined? Because I've imagined a lot." He states as his hands squeeze my hips.

"I don't think I should answer that question," I giggle as my fingers hook around the collar of his shirt.

"Oh, love," he mutters, " 'think you just did." I let out a squeal as he lifts me up under my thighs to wrap my legs around his waist. "And I think we have a lot of time to catch up on."

~

I let out a pained breath as the growing headache pulls me from pretty painted dreams that would never happen. I peel my eyes open and notice a glass of water and two pain killers waiting on the bedside table. I lean across slowly and take the glass and pain killers, quickly swallow them down in hopes they will relieve the throbbing in my skull. I roll over and stare up at the ceiling, grimacing to myself at the pain, trying to recall the previous nights events. We went to the bar, some guy tried to get me to come home with him, Tom and I fought, Tom-

My mind catches up with my body, Tom whispering against my lips, "I don't ever think I can live without you."

I turn my head to see that Tom was no longer in bed, his side almost cold. I roll to the side and slowly stand. My legs ache as I grab Tom's sweatshirt that was laying crumpled on the floor when we had changed last night to go to the bar, and change into a pair of underwear. I spot Tom sitting downstairs with his head in his hands when I look over the balcony. I carefully walk downstairs and make my way over to him, my footsteps light against the hardwood flooring.

"Tom?" I say, softly grabbing his shoulder.

Tom jumps under my hand, moving almost so quickly that he nearly rips my hand off his shoulder. When he looks at me I notice the fear and worry in his eyes. "(Y/N), I didn't realize you woke up." He wipes his eyes softly before forcing a smile on his face.

"You okay?" I ask, moving so that I am standing beside his chair and not behind it.

Tom sighs, shaking his head as he shifts to he is facing me. He hangs his head "I'm so sorry. (Y/N), I don't know what came over me last night-"

I brush my hand through his bed head, "Tom,"

"You wanted to wait til marriage and I took advantage-"

"Tom, listen to me," I state, taking his chin in my hand and forcing him to look at me, "I trust you with my life, have for a very long time. I have no regrets about what happened last night." I watch as his body relaxes, a few tears slip down his face and I replace my strong hold on his chin with both my hands cupping his jaw. "I trust you with everything that I have, and if it were anyone, I'm glad it was you." His eyes shut and he turns his head to press a kiss into my palm. "I love you, Tom."

"I love you too, (Y/N), so much." Tom's voice cracks at the end, but he has a soft smile on his face. Tom tugs me by my thighs to pull me between his legs to hug me, his head resting on my stomach. I smile at the feeling of his hands, one resting on my thigh and the other that had slid under his sweatshirt to rest on the small of my back. I run my fingers through his hair until he pulls me so I'm seated on his lap, giggling. He nuzzles his nose against mine before letting out a laugh. "God, it took us so long to admit that we loved each other." He buries his face into my neck, holding me close to him. "Why did we ever think that we needed to hide that from one another?"

"I have no clue," I hum, wrapping my arms around his neck, holding him close, "but I am glad we got that all figured out. Especially since everyone already thinks we are dating anyways." I giggle, smiling when Tom presses lingering kisses over already darkening bruises along my skin.

"Little lovely wife." He hums, making me laugh louder.

"I think we are a little further away from that at this moment in time-"

"A lot closer now than it was when we were two," he mutters before pulling away, looking at me. "Love?" I let out a soft hum, running my hands through his hair again. "Would it be appropriate to ask my lovely lady out on a date?"

"I would love that, baby boy." I muse.

"Please, don't call me that," I open my mouth to protest but he smiles up at me, "in public. I will never live it down if anyone else hears it."

"That I can handle," I giggle smiling at him. "But can we get food first, I'm hungry." I pout my lower lip out, Tom brushing his thumb over it, smiling gently.

"How about we go out to eat this morning then we go to the Japanese gardens this afternoon?" He nuzzles his nose against mine, before pressing a tender kiss to my lips.

"Sounds perfect," I whisper, smiling at him, "But, I'm going to hop in the shower first." I pat his chest, climbing off his lap, only to be caught by his hand.

"Can I join?" He wiggles his eyebrows at me making me laugh.

I bend forward, teasing him by biting my lip before whispering in his ear. "Nice try, Holland, but not happening." I turn and walk back to the stairs and walk up to the bathroom, glancing at Tom before I enter the room, seeing him turned in the chair, arms folded over the top, smiling at my retreating figure.

Tom and I walk hand and hand into a small cafe in town, Tom only letting go to open the door for me.

"(Y/N), Tom! Hey!" Tom and I turn to see Chris and Zack sitting in a booth, the one behind them being completely vacant. I motion for him to follow me and we toss our coats into the booth before walking over to say 'hello' to our friends from the park.

"Hey, guys! What have you two been up to?" I ask as I hug Chris, Tom shaking Zack's hand.

"Oh, just work, we decided we needed a morning out so we decided breakfast then we would go to the art museum. What about you two?" Chris answers before hugging Tom as I hug Zack.

"We are headed out to the Japanese gardens after we get breakfast, we were sick of our usual breakfast routine." I giggle, Tom returning to my side.

"Why don't you two sit with us, we wouldn't mind the company. Also this place gets busy and an extra booth open would help then out." Zack says with a grin. Tom and I look at each other before he grabs our stuff while Chris moves to sit next to Zack.

"I mean, we wouldn't mind joining you, as long as you really want us to." I state with a smile. The boys nod as we slip in the seat, a waitress trotting over to bring their drinks and get ours since the guys had only recently got here.

The four of us look at our menus as the waitress sets down a coffee for both Tom and I before moving to another table.

"Something is different about you two." Chris wiggles his finger at us.

"Well, um..." Tom chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I know what it is," Zack states, sipping his coffee, "(Y/N), dear, you may want to fix your shirt a bit. Have a nice hickey showing." Tom glances down and is quickly helps me fix my shirt, blushing wildly.

"You two did," Chris audibly gasps, "the dirty?"

Tom and I laugh, trying to figure out what to say before I place a finger to my lips smiling.

"We are proud of you, and it's good to see you both happy and together." Zack smiles.

Tom looks at me, smiling before lacing his hand into mine. "It took us a lot of time, but we finally figured it out."

"Sometimes love happens that way," Zack says, his arm sliding across the back of the booth to wrap around Chris' shoulders, making Chris blush.

My mouth falls open, but it changes into a bright grin. I turn my head to look at Tom, his eyes meeting my own. "It really does."

After about 2 hours of talking, laughing. and eventually exchanging numbers, Chris and Zack offered to drive us to the Japanese gardens so we don't have to get an Uber.

"Have a nice day, you two!" I call, waving at them as they drop us off.

"You too! And remember to keep in touch! I mean, we will check social media but we wanna know how you two are doing normally!" Chris calls before pulling out.

Tom squeezes my hand, looking at me with the softest expression. "C'mon, love, let's go exploring."

~

I smile as I look at myself in the mirror later that evening, dressed in a pair of black booty shorts and one of Tom's v-neck shirts. I brush my fingers over the darkening skin along my neck and chest, blushing at the memories from the night before. I bite my lip before grabbing my phone, only to notice that Tom had tagged me on a post on Instagram.

tomholland2013 Spending time with @timelockgameplays my best friend, my lovely little wife, my everything ❤

I smile, clicking to comment.

timelockgameplays You're such a sap, you're lucky I love you, tiny tottling husband ❤

Content, I scroll down and read the comments, giggling along the way.

hazosterfield Glad my best mates are having fun, just hopefully not too much fun 😉

zendaya Oh, yes, this is definitely too cute to be legal.

JacKyleGP Glad to know you two are having fun while we suffer! @timelockgameplays

Oblivion Leave them alone, @JacKyleGP . Have fun on your trip @timelockgameplays @tomholland2013

"I see you've seen my post," Tom's arms wrap around my waist, kissing my neck delicately.

"You really are a sap," I giggle, leaning back into him. I kiss his jawline, cupping the opposite side of his face. "And are horrible at keeping secrets. I thought we were going to wait to tell everyone, or at least tell our parents before we told everyone else."

"Well, technically I didn't tell anyone-"

"You implied it, basically the same thing-" I giggle in his arms as he peppers kisses from my jawline, down my neck, and back up again.

"You did say that everyone thinks that we are dating," Tom turns me around in his arms before kissing me, smirking against my lips. "So I thought we would speed up the process. Besides, our mums already knows that we are dating-"

"And how is that?" I tease, running my fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck.

"I may have sent one of the pictures of us kissing to my mum, who sent it to your mum," Tom chuckles, blushing.

"Who were you planning on sending it to?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

"Harrison," he states, looking to the side.

"One more question," Tom playfully rolls his eyes in front of me, "Why were you planning to send a picture to Haz?"

"He said I had to send him proof if I got the balls to either tell you I loved you or kissed you. And I figured a picture of me kissing you was better than a picture of you laying in bed after last night's events." Tom states, biting his lip.

I blush wildly, turning my face away from him. Tom cups my cheek, turning my face back to face him. He smiles at me gently, brushing his thumb against my lips, before dipping his head down and kissing me again. I hum against his lips, tugging him closer by the chain around his neck as he lifts me up on the bathroom counter. I pull away giggling, pressing my forehead to his, causing him to pout at me. "You set me in a bit of a puddle."

Tom chuckles with me, smiling at me. His eyes are bright, swimming pools of hot chocolate, that in the sun shined and sparkled.

"Tom?" I mutter, he lets out a hum in response. "I um, was wondering, if um." I let out a laugh, Tom lifting his head to look at me carefully, "Could we, maybe, try last night again?"

Tom's cheeks flush a dark shade of red. "Are you sure, we don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with-"

I cut him off with a kiss, smiling into it. I press my forehead against his, "I trust you with my whole life, Tom. And we did say at one point in our lives that the plan was to spend the rest of our lives together," I lean toward his ear, "so why wait?"

Tom lets out a deep chuckle before lifting me up, making me squeal, carrying me to our room. "God, I love you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! Reblog and comment!

@revenantwriting   @bellagrayson-wayne

Chapter Seven

[jae-ha]

between silence and sound.  »「chapter two 」

Chapter Index (Ao3) // Chapter Index (tumblr)

.summary ––  [ Road trip // slight AU ] - Once Zack and Rachel leave the strange building behind, they realize, on long stretches of road and under diamond-bright stars, there are so many things to be discovered about one another.

.pairing ––  (slight?) ZackRay –– don’t like, don’t read, don’t comment. 

.chapter two » 「as dark things are meant to be loved.」

「 — sunday : 3 a.m. 」

The roadside hotel is a few steps above seedy yet several steps below refined. It smells strongly of some kind of floral detergent and the walls capture and absorb the muggy summer heat, giving the building an atmosphere akin to being inside a large beast’s mouth. The baseboards are laden with dents, the carpeting bears questionable green stains, and the light take a few tries before it turns on. When it does switch on, it does so with a hiss of circuits, illuminating the room for about ten minutes before fizzling out again.

Neither of them took kindly to the idea of sleeping in the car for the third night in a row, so when Rachel pointed out the sputtering neon sign advertising comfy beds and hot showers, Zack didn’t question it. He swerved into the parking lot and the two shambled their way into the establishment and up to the front desk.

It’s only because this hotel room is just a place to sleep and not to sightsee that neither Zack nor Rachel care about its miserable state. At the very most, the wrinkle-laden bedsheets appear newly washed, the bathroom is fully stocked, and the room smells fresh, clean even. Rachel especially desires to make good on the promise of a hot shower.

Zack knows this, and upon dropping the car keys on top of the chestnut-colored dresser and giving the room a judgmental once-over, he turns to her and says, “You go first.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t take all night.” He punctuates the statement by flopping down on the room’s solitary bed to begin digging through the bag they’ve brought with them. It’s filled with supplies, all of which is stolen: a wallet that contains cash and three credit cards, several rolls of bandages, a handful of snacks, an old cellphone, and a few other small trinkets picked up along the way.

Rachel lingers, processing everything slowly, before disappearing into the bathroom. The light there works miraculously better than the main room’s fixture.

She finds a stack of towels folded in a compartment beneath the sink and turns on the shower’s faucet. After a few moments she checks the temperature, ensuring that it isn’t freezing nor scalding before stepping inside. She keeps her shower brief, not knowing if a slipshod hotel like this has a limit on their hot water. Once the grime of three days on the road is washed away, she steps out, dries off, and pulls on an oversized T-shirt and shorts— the only other articles of clothing she’s brought aside from her floaty white sundress.

She dabs at her hair with a towel as she retreats from the bathroom.

“Zack, you can go ahead.”

He slinks past her in wordless response, body slumped with fatigue and eyes as faded as the overhead lights. Rachel assumes he was searching the supplies bag for the roll of bandages he stuffs into his pocket upon passing her.

After folding the damp towel and setting it aside on a stiff-looking armchair, Rachel also sets her eyes on the bag. She’s been meaning to work on the trip’s budget.

She takes a seat on the bed, tucks her legs beneath her, and lays a notebook, calculator, and pen from within the bag before her. The credit cards within the wallet have been taken from three different people, all victims of Zack’s new scythe. Even with the true owners dead and unable to put halts on the card’s use, Rachel prefers to use them sparingly as not to draw too much attention to the card companies. She also knows that the cards will have to be disposed of and replaced when they begin traversing states.

She calculates the amount they’ve spent thus far on their trip, punching numbers in on the calculator and scribbling down values as they come to her. The hotel has been their largest expense with food being a close second, then gas. She remembers an incident only a few days ago when the car ground to a halt in the middle of a side street, the tank finally giving way to emptiness. Zack swore a lot that day— somehow more than usual. He knew neither how to pump gas nor where the nearest station was. After several minutes of trying to get a stable connection on the old stolen cellphone, Rachel determined a gas station forty-five minutes away. The walk took two hours, and by the time they reached the station, purchased four portable containers of gas (Zack wanted to make sure it never happened again), and made it back to the slumbering side street, it was an hour after midnight. He still didn’t know how to pump gas, but Rachel figured that she could look up a video later if the old phone managed to stay alive. If all else failed, she was sure a stranger would be willing to help them, so long as she was the one who asked.

That memory gives way to others, and Rachel soon finds herself lost in thought. For no particular reason (at least, none that she can pinpoint), those thoughts are all centered around Zack.

It isn’t as if he had done anything differently today. He spent most of the day behind the steering wheel, either smiling like a demon as he sped through a light that was quickly fading to red or grinding his teeth in the face of a three-car pileup. Yes, most days on the road repeat themselves, but the nights are always different.

Nighttime means silence, and there are always unfinished stories sewn within the fabric of that silence.

The previous night, Zack eased the car into the parking lot of a liquor store, deciding that it would be the place they’d settle in for the night. Other nights, they were tucked into a shadowy corner of a truck stop or under the large tree of a grocery store parking lot. All were dark with some semblance of coziness, and since it was long past closing hours, the liquor store was no different.

Rachel curled up on the passenger’s seat and waited for oblivion to find her, as was custom on nights where the car took the place of a comfortable bed and the stars selfishly offered no light. And, just as routine would have it, her sleep was choppy, dreamless, and full of holes. Only forty-five minutes passed before some phantom force roused her awake again.

Her eyes fluttered open to the same night-colored parking lot, the hum of some slumberless insect, and Zack watching the window with a faraway gaze. Perhaps it was the sharp edges of broken glass on the asphalt, the obscenities spray-painted onto the side of the liquor store, or the clashing of distant yet fiery voices that made Rachel start to question the location they chose to settle in.

As she quietly untangled her body from its cocoon of blond hair and warmth, she could feel Zack’s eyes following her.

“Can’t sleep?”

His tone wasn’t one of concern nor comfort, but it danced along the serenity of the night as if it naturally belonged there. In fact, in that moment, Zack blended in perfectly with everything the darkness had to offer, and Rachel thought it might’ve been because he had learned to move with it. He’d spent so much time in environments like that that his limbs seemed to disappear and reappear when he wanted them to and his breathing vanished no matter how much Rachel stilled her own in an attempt to hear it.

If the moonlight was just a tad dimmer, she never would’ve known he was still in the car with her.

She lowered her gaze, noticing only then that he was holding one of the plastic water bottles from the supplies bag. He offered it to her, but she refused it with a small shake of her head.

“It’s dangerous here,” she said.

He scoffed and took a sip. “I’m more of a monster than anything you’ll find out there.” As he turned his face to the window again, the moonlight raced to emphasize the features that not even his bandages could cover up— the rigidity of his jawline, the sharp curve of his neck, the bulb of his Adam’s apple, and, of course, that golden eye that glittered as something strange and bewitchingly colorful on a body of dark shades and drab hues.

“Go back to sleep. I’m keeping watch.”

In the hotel room, as her memories poke and prod at her, it’s then that Rachel realizes why Zack is on her mind. It’s the monster in him that captures her interest.

Monster.

Cathy had said it, Danny had said it, even Zack himself had said it. They’ve carved that word into him, stained his bones with it, made it an irrefutable part of him. The concept of it all touches only the edges of Rachel’s understanding. At what threshold does a human disintegrate into less-than human? She’s asked Zack to explain why he chooses to encapsulate himself behind such an ugly word like that, but his answer is vague and foggy, leaving her with questions rather than contentment.

Perhaps they use that word because of his strange appearance, because of the bandages and what hides beneath them. She hasn’t known Zack for any extended period of time, but because everyone else who’s come into her life seems to bear death’s handprint, Zack is now the person she’s known the longest. Even then, she’s never seen underneath his bandages. At least, not the ones above his waist.

She can hypothesize what he looks like beneath them, but actually asking to see him, actually requesting that he let her in that far, to let her be so close that she can see and feel him as he is — without barriers and borders— seems as difficult as crossing a minefield.

The story behind them has piqued Rachel’s interest in the past. Not long ago he told her that the burns he covers up no longer hurt. Regardless of how widespread and severe they had once been, time had healed them as much as they could possibly be healed. With that in mind, Rachel concluded that those bandages were nothing more than his security blanket, despairingly used to hide his most hated flaw.

When she thinks of Zack, she doesn’t initially place him as insecure, but she notices how he dresses, covering every inch of his body behind baggy fabrics and zippers. She notices the way he disregards any concern she shows for him, the way he turns his nose up when she attempts to care for him, as if he’s unable to accept the concept of meaning something to someone.

He’s tightly rooted in the belief that hatred awaits him beneath every stranger’s gaze, and because it’s all an endless cycle, everyone is a stranger. He scoffs at laws and sneers at restraints, not allowing anything the world labels as ‘important’ or ‘sensical’ to sway the way he lives. But there’s a small part of her that feels that some part of him may actually be soft. Something still breathes gently, still exists tenderly, beneath the calloused shell that’s hardened over him. She’s caught a glimpse of it in the way he smiles at her sometimes, the way the corners of his lips rise effortlessly and his eyes twinkle with a light he hasn’t had since he was much, much smaller— when the world handled him delicately.

She’s so lost in these thoughts, so wrapped up in trying to understand what may never be understood that she doesn’t notice when the shoddy overhead light fizzles out or when the shower shuts off. But all at once her body becomes like glass when she feels a small weight press down on her head. She immediately realizes it’s a dish from the hotel’s decor and that Zack is the one who’s placed it there. Said dish —a stained-glass creation fixed out of blue and turquoise pieces— is a stark, colorful contrast to the beige carpet and dingy wallpaper that greeted them upon entrance.

She can feel his eyes on her, assessing her, waiting for a reaction. He’s done this before, sometimes with cups, other times with soda cans. She’s confused each time he does it, and the only reason her body freezes up during this particular instance is because if it falls, there isn’t money in the trip budget to replace it. Or rather, no money she’s willing to spend on replacing it.

Her outward appearance doesn’t change, save for the second-long pause of her hand in the midst of writing a calculation. Her eyes flitter over to him; he appears amused.

“Zack, what are you doing?”

“Trying to get a reaction outta you.”

Her eyebrows knit together. He said something similar the previous times, too. Typically he aims for irritation or anger, but Rachel’s features only respond with confusion.

“I can’t write like this.” She reaches up, removes the dish from her head and puts it in its rightful place on the nightstand before turning back to the trip’s budgeting notebook. Zack responds with a dissatisfied click of his tongue before collapsing onto the bed beside her, causing the springs to groan.

The flurry of his movements allows a curious scent to reach her nose. A kind of citrus? Lemon, maybe? No, it isn’t that distinct or sharp. It’s mellow, something simple and clean. Hotel soap, but not the one she had used. She looks over, observing him for the first time since he arrived beside her.

He’s dressed in usual attire, though his head isn’t nestled beneath his hoodie. His hair is fully exposed, revealing tiny beads of water from the shower he’s just gotten out of. With his body mostly turned away, he’s winding a roll of fresh bandages. She can see that he’s pretty much finished the entire process of wrapping himself already.

Her black pen scratches out the new string of numbers displayed on the calculator. She doesn’t plan to say anything about the bandages in spite of her curiosity, but the bed jolts and an odd noise between a wince and a gasp hits the air.

“Zack?”

He leans sideways, unintentionally allowing her to see him much clearer than before. Pinched between his fingers is something thin and scarlet that he inspects with an expression that can only be described as nonplussed.

Rachel blinks, a phantom look of surprise swims in her eyes. “One of your stitches… It came out.”

“Looks like it.”

The disbelief gradually leaves his face, smoothing over into that look of irritated curiosity he sometimes has. He’s still seated in such a way that Rachel can see his fingers delicately pull back the stitched skin to inspect the affected area. Her stitching is, in no way, poor or inadequate. On the contrary, something has caused it to come undone. Something powerful that’s led to the entire top stitch shearing and falling apart in small bits in Zack’s hand.

With a curse Zack retracts his hand from his stomach which is now spotted with fresh blood.

Before he can say or do anything more, Rachel nudges the budgeting supplies aside, grasps her black pouch, and removes a needle and thread from her sewing kit. She doesn’t feel complete without having one with her, so before they had traveled even ten miles, she requested to purchase a new one as well as a new black purse to hold it in.

“Zack,” she murmurs, “I’ll fix it.”

“Huh? Now?”

She nods, and because he hasn’t any good reason to say no, he turns around and lays down against the pile of pillows at the head of bed.

The bed is wide enough for her to crawl over and sit beside him, though his position forces him to look up at her rather than at eye-level. She can feel his gaze as she observes the only area he hadn’t had a chance to bandage— the crimson-colored gash carved lopsidedly into his torso. The first stitch is completely torn with a thin remnant of loose thread sitting in a bead of blood. The second stitch is weak, threatening to detach and take the other two with it if enough force is applied or if Zack moves too fast or too hard and accidentally pulls it out himself.

Now that the wound is open again — even if that opening is a small one — she rinses her hands in the water from one of the spare water bottles from the supplies bag.

“What happened?”

“When I was breaking out of that shitty jail, some officer fought me head-on. I guess he pulled it loose and I didn’t notice.” There’s a phantom smile on his face, indicating to Rachel that the officer came out the loser in their skirmish. A faint part of her wonders if that man is still alive, though she doubts it highly. Zack has never shown mercy before.

“I’m going to restitch all of them,” she says. Zack responds with a dissenting grunt which Rachel chalks up to him remembering all the discomfort he felt when she initially closed the wound. She doesn’t have cotton balls, so she uses squares of toilet paper to pat away the blood. The area surrounding the injury remains an irritated red.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not yet,” he grumbles, eyeing her wearily.

“I’ll be gentle.”

He grunts again and turns his eyes away.

The first time she brought her needle to him, there was a tinge of urgency. A fire ignited inside her with the same persistence of a flower fighting its way through the dirt to bloom at the surface.

‘I can’t let my god die.’ Those words spilled over her, driving every movement of her small, steady hands.

Things are different now. Zack is no longer the stumbling mess of blood and chaos he had once been, so she allows her eyes to longer for as long as she wishes on what Zack always strives so earnestly to hide. Blotches of discolored skin and trembling red veins ripple out from the wound. She had sewed the injury shut in four stitches, all aligned in a weaving ‘x’ formation. She intends to replicate her work from back then, but she’ll have to undo the sutures first.

“Don’t move,” she instructs him, knowing that the process takes a remarkably steady hand.

He retorts with a simple, “yeah, yeah.”

She knows he uses flippancy to mask his apprehension. His insecurity spills out in the form of tense muscles and averted eyes. Once again, he’s exposing his wounds to her, and once again he can’t bring himself to look at her directly.

Because the hotel light no longer works, she’s forced to lean in closely which probably unsettles him more. Regardless of his discomfort, she can’t keep her eyes from roving and her mind from wandering. According to Zack himself, he doesn’t remember much about the incident surrounding his burns. He’s wiped most of it from his mind, but the evidence of that man’s sin is Zack’s personal souvenir. On his body lingers light and dark: healthy, pale skin juxtaposed against dark, charred shades. He’s not completely ordinary, but not completely abnormal. An uncomfortable in-between.

It all causes a twinge to seize Rachel’s chest, but she isn’t sure if that feeling can be called sympathy. What she does know is that his scars fascinate her. The blemishes he insists on covering up intrigue her. She assumes that he’s been called a monster ever since childhood, but as he breathes fragilely against her touch, vulnerable and open for one of the few times in his life, Rachel is awestruck. He appears so beautiful to her now. There are no burns, only beauty. No scars, only strength.

So she presses her lips to the bottom stitch, intent on validating that beauty.

And he crumbles.

His breath catches in his throat; a shaking hand clenches the sheets. He becomes a whisper, precariously tottering between rejecting the emotion and allowing it to drown him. He stammers out a fragile protest, but Rachel allows it to evaporate into the air. She can’t see his eyes —it’s far too dark— but she knows he’s completely turned his face away, concealing it in the edges of a pillow.

She kisses the next stitch, then the next, enveloping herself in the feeling she had the first time she sewed him back together. Whatever she brought her needle to became hers, perfect and complete. Her father, her puppy, her white bird. But there’s something different about Zack. He appears to her as a fragmented wish. She sews broken things together due to her fascination with the concept of wholeness and purity. But Zack is neither of those things. He’s the most broken thing she’s ever come across and his shards are scattered so far that she isn’t sure that he will ever be whole again. Not only his body, but everything about him is damaged, shattered, and some times fragile, but she’s never seen him as anything less than strong.

Just as she arrives at the broken top stitch, a hand shoves her away. Zack props himself up, adjusting so they’re now eye-level.

“What the hell are you doing?”

His voice is a touch breathless, but mostly riled. Seeing him so close now, she can’t describe the expression he’s giving her, but it makes her heart shiver. His shoulders, all the way down to his hands, are still trembling as if something inside has awoken and is trying to split him open to escape.

Her eyes are glassy as she asks, “Does it hurt?”

He hesitates, and for a split second Rachel can see all of the ghosts he’s held deep inside almost spill out through his gaze.

“No.”

There’s a weak resolution, a dull fire, behind his murmur, and once again he can’t meet her eyes. His fist clenches, his body tightens, but he says nothing more before lying down again. With an exhale he buries the side of his face into a pillow, just as it had been before.

“Just… hurry up and fix the stitch, damn it…”

Rachel nods. She grabs her needle and gets to work.

[stillness-in-green]

Scenes from a Wedding (2/4)

A look at Kudelia and Atra’s wedding, from proposal to planning to the main event.  Expect copious Chad/Yamagi on the side.  Also, the whole thing giving Eugene a big headache.  

Chapter 2: Planning (Practices, Paraphernalia, and What to Do About Parents) 

(Warning: No line breaks seem to be appearing on mobile, because we can’t have nice things, apparently.)

6 Months Out:

They kept the secret for about six months—better than Kudelia had hoped, honestly.  By February, though, Cucubita had been stopped in the office three times by coworkers asking if the rumor that the boss was getting married was true.  It was time to get out ahead of things.

Kudelia didn’t tell the news outlets directly—she didn’t need to.  Rather, she set up a gift registry—something that normally would have been done months ago—and let Cucubita post the web address at the office.  Sure enough, within the week she fielded the first question from a reporter about it.

Everyone held their breath, for what seemed like days—would the cover stories and the false last names hold against media scrutiny?  Makanai and his aide had sworn there was no way to connect their names to Tekkadan’s payroll lists, seized by Arianrhod years ago, but…

But no one from Gjallarhorn had ever seen Atra, at least not anyone still living.  A few hopeful photographers showed up at the farm—even the ones who didn’t come openly couldn’t hide for long from a horde of children at play—but between Dante’s colorful threats, Sakura’s ominous pronouncements about lawsuits, and Derma’s ability to dent camera lens casings in his metal fingers, no one stayed for long.  Kudelia received a distant, genial note of congratulations from Rustal Elion, and that was as close as danger came to home for some time.

In the meantime, the preparations continued.

“Oh, it’s bigger than I remember!”

“It will seem smaller once you have chairs and the arch in it.”

Yamagi trailed Merribit and Kudelia up the room at Chad’s elbow, listening with half an ear as the two women went on talking about the wedding arch.  The place was brighter than he remembered from Merribit’s wedding—the difference lighting made, he supposed—a long, bright, wood-paneled chamber with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side, showing the forest.

“Eugene’s going to hate the windows,” he murmured to Chad, who smiled, quick and lop-sided.

“Eugene already hates the windows,” came the low reply.

“How’s the guest list coming?”

Chad looked at a notepad he’d borrowed from the office, where he’d been jotting down notes in his careful, unpracticed handwriting.  “They’re at fifty right now, counting themselves.  They haven’t sent invitations yet, though—they’re expecting less.”

“That’s pretty small.”  Yamagi looked around the room, mentally occupying it with chairs and barely filling a quarter of the space.  “They could probably do the ceremony on one end and the reception on the other, with numbers like that.”

“If Eugene didn’t hate the windows,” Chad replied with another flash of the smile from before.  “But the people here said they can wall off half the space, so I think we’re going with that.”

Yamagi nodded, looking back across the room as Kudelia turned in place, looking up at the slanted rafters of the ceiling.  “How about the colors?”

“Purple and white.”

“No red?”  An obscure disappointment pricked at him.  Kudelia looked good in red, and Tekkadan had used it on some of its lily marks.

“She thought about it for a while.  She said she thought it would be a bit much, for a wedding dress.”  Chad’s expression, when Yamagi looked at it, was blank, the open sincerity of someone who had no opinion whatsoever about the matter.  He’s probably learned everything he knows about wedding dresses in the last two months, Yamagi reflected, and muted a smile, turning back towards Kudelia and Merribit.

“What are you planning for the unity practice?” the latter asked, hands folded neatly over her elbows.

Kudelia looked at her, blinking.  “Unity…?”

“The thing you do to show you’re coming together as a couple,” Yamagi filled in.  He’d sat through several long conversations between Merribit and the old man on the topic, as Yukinojo’s rough sensibilities grappled with Merribit’s Teiwaz-influenced multiculturalism.  “Drinking sake or tying knots or whatever.”

“I see.”  Kudelia’s expression cleared.  “We hadn’t talked about that yet.”  She smiled with a thread of a chuckle.  “Though it probably won’t be sake.”

Merribit sighed, briefly closing her eyes.  Yamagi hid a smirk in his hair.  Merribit was the most capable drinker he’d ever met, and it seemed to forever distress her that she couldn’t find more people who appreciated Teiwaz’s approach to alcohol—which, as far as Yamagi could tell, boiled down to, “Use it for anything you can find an excuse to.”

“It will have to be something,” was all Merribit allowed herself, though she said it in a voice with steel ribbing.  “That symbology is even more important than the arch.”

“What else is there?” Kudelia asked, tilting her head.  “I think on Earth they light candles.”

“A candle, typically.”  Merribit counted off on her fingers.  “Unity candles, sharing a drink from one cup or some kind of food with the right symbology.  Tying knots in cords, or having your fingers tied together.”  She flicked her pinky finger out in illustration.

Kudelia nodded thoughtfully, and Chad’s pen began scratching again as he wrote out “Unity practice?” at the bottom of his notes.  When he finished, Yamagi leaned in, bumping their shoulders together, and wound one hand in around Chad’s arm.  That close, he could hear the small, surprised hitch in Chad’s breathing.  After a moment, in which the temperature probably didn’t rise from the blood rushing to Chad’s face, but felt a bit like should have, Chad tucked the notepad under his other elbow and dropped his arm, leaving their hands held lightly, fingers barely twined.

In mutually-agreed-upon silence, they went on listening to Merribit’s overview.

Within the next week, Makanai finally settled on a suitable florist, and with the venue and dress decided, the wedding party gratefully left him to harangue the shop at his discretion.  Haba began to drop by the farm with samples of meals—fried dumplings, mixed rice dishes, carefully sliced sandwiches, cuts of meat, salad mixes, chocolates and pastries and more—to catch up with Atra and plan out the buffet menu.

A problem: there would have to be music, but it couldn’t be live music.

The solution: invite Zack over to the farm and spend an entire weekend putting together sample playlists between what he and Dante could pull from Ariadne, what Atra heard on radios around town, and what Cookie and Cracker were being exposed to at school.

A problem: Kudelia and Atra would need to be driven safely to the venue without too much time lost to reporters—or anyone else looking for a splashy headline, Eugene said ominously—but Atra’s address was now known.

The solution: Kudelia would stay at Cucubita’s home the night before, and Atra with Merribit at the same hotel Azee and Eco had booked.  Eugene would drive Kudelia and Cucubita to Cyllene; Merribit the other group.  This also neatly solved the issue of keeping the brides apart until the ceremony, as everyone agreed was traditional.

The guest list was finalized before long, with one lingering issue—the parental one.

Atra, of course, had no problems there, and Norman Bernstein was still persona non grata at any event involving his daughter, her wedding being no exception.  

Tomomi Bernstein, though.  Perhaps, perhaps…  Kudelia chased the thoughts around her mind in circles, running them into tunnels of procrastination and warrens of welcomed forgetfulness.  Later.  She could figure out whether to invite her mother later.  When it was closer to the wedding.

Yes.

3 Months Out:

The stylist—get it done right, Cookie and Cracker nagged, and Merribit insisted—was delighted with the pair of them.  He spent nearly four hours tugging their hair this way and that, working it into up-dos, elaborate braids, or considered curls.  Atra’s hair, with a natural wave that held true even as long as she’d grown it out in the last few years, and Kudelia’s thick, full-bodied true blonde, both held a wealth of possibilities so extensive that, by the time it was over, Kudelia had privately resolved to chop off the lot as soon as the wedding was over, if not before.  Driving them back to the farm, a pink fabric rose still tucked behind one ear, Atra giggled at Kudelia’s woes and quipped that they could probably pay for several days of honeymoon if they both just switched to short cuts and sold the rest.

Soon after came the word from Makanai: the flower arrangements were almost decided upon, but final decisions were pending on the rest of the wedding party—specifically, their costuming.  Send pictures, was the old politician’s dictate.  Dress the men, and send pictures.

“You look so handsome!”

Chad ducked his head as the salesperson nodded agreement with Atra.  He stole a glance at the store’s mirror, eyeing his reflection doubtfully.  The suit was handsome, sure—a warm dark gray with a faint shine to the thread, all sharp folds and even lines.  He looked as awkward in it as ever, though.

Across the room, Yukinojo, wearing the peanut-brown suit he’d worn to his own wedding, stood at something like attention, looking long-suffering as Merribit circled around him with a secretive smile on her face.  She turned to the woman with the tape measure looped over one elbow nearby, but Dante’s arm descending around Chad’s shoulders distracted him from whatever she’d been about to say.

“She’s right; we do look pretty great.  Right?”  Dante, wearing the nicest formal black since their Teiwaz sakazuki ceremony all those years ago, grinned into the mirror at Chad, who found his lips tugging up despite his embarrassment.  At the acknowledgement, Dante jostled him in rough support, then turned them around to face Yamagi, who’d been entrusted with documenting the excursion.

Yamagi was smiling—smirking a little, even.  He raised the camera.  “Smile for the Prime Minister,” he quipped.  “Again.”

Chad did his best.  And maybe with Dante flipping the camera a cheery thumbs-up, it wasn’t so bad.

With the mens’ clothes reserved, and Makanai in the final stages of negotiations with the florist, the wedding party turned their full attention to the menu.  Within the week, Atra and Haba had finalized plans for the reception dinner and begun stockpiling the foods that would keep—a bottle of cooking oil here, a sack of uncooked beans there, dry stock like spices, sugars and cocoa.

Kudelia pulled her intended away long enough to film an invitation to their wedding.  Paper was lovely, but pricey even in the low quality used by the average Martian business office; the quality one would want in a personalized wedding invitation made them an extravagance Kudelia was not willing to splurge on—to say nothing of the unreliability of interplanetary delivery times.  They sent the video to most everyone who could be reached with LCS.

The next night, sitting alone beneath the humming of Atra’s kitchen light, Kudelia wrote out the exceptions by hand, using a fountain pen she’d barely touched since receiving it as a birthday gift years ago, back before she’d left her parents’ home.

Tomomi Bernstein received an invitation sent by courier.  McMurdo Barriston had one handed to him by an underling, fresh off a Gjallarhorn-escorted carrier ship.

Ride was off-planet when Yamagi stopped by the last place any of the Tekkadan survivors had been able to track him to, a run-down apartment in Chryse’s eastern foothills.  Trow, who invited Yamagi in after only a few seconds’ sullen staring, could not be convinced to say where Ride had gone nor when he’d be back, only that Embi was in touch with him.  Yamagi managed a painful fifteen minutes—not record-setting, but far longer than Eugene could usually endure before snapping.  He left Kudelia’s painstakingly written invitations behind, a small, neat stack of white envelopes that lent an out-of-place brightness to the apartment’s gloom.

Atra, who had not thought much about vows and the writing of them until the first of several evenings curled up on the couch with Kudelia and a pile of poetry books and philosophical essay compilations, found herself staring at the task head on.  Once she had noticed it, of course, it sat at the back of her mind like a mouse, darting out of unexpected corners, chewing on her stray thoughts.  She took a few sheets of paper from Chad’s notepad and folded them up to keep in her back pocket, and spent no small amount of her free time staring and scribbling and crossing out.

She spent a weekend scouring jewelry stores with Cookie and Cracker for Kudelia’s wedding gift, and hid the result away in her closet, tucked into the pocket of her old Tekkadan jacket, which she’d long since outgrown, and couldn’t wear out in public in any case.

Kudelia, meanwhile, had decided months ago what she wanted to give Atra for her wedding gift, but it wasn’t so simple as just purchasing one from a store.

“I have no idea how she made hers look so nice,” Kudelia lamented, pulling a tangle of red hemp cording out of her purse and setting it on the table between them.  Yamagi—the only one who’d turned up for an intended double-date, with Chad staying late at the office to sort out a shipping order that had been garbled in transmit and Atra stuck at the orphanage dealing with a split pipe beneath the sink—set his beer aside to examine her progress.

“A lot of practice,” he opined as he pulled the tangle closer, flicking through it with deft fingers.  “She used to make these as a hobby, you know.”

“She hasn’t in a long time.”  Kudelia sighed, leaning forward on her elbows to watch.  “Not since the last one she made Akatsuki.”  A blue one to match Mikazuki’s, which they’d never recovered.  There’d been no chance to, with the escape to Earth being as pressing as it had been back then.

“Why’d she stop?”  Yamagi unknotted strands and stretched them flat against the table, only for them to bunch up on themselves again when he removed his hand.

“I’m—not sure.  A sense of finality, maybe?”  She stirred her martini absently, remembering Atra weeping in her arms as Akatsuki—just a baby, his ash blond hair soft and fine around the delicate curve of his head—sat in his crib and wetly gummed at Atra’s red bracelet.  He’d pulled it off the corner post where Atra used to hang it until he was big enough to wear it properly.

She does still think it’s lucky, right? she worried.  She must, or she wouldn’t still have him wearing them everywhere.

“Maybe” she went on, “maybe she thought that she wanted him to have all the luck she could manage?  Sometimes people can get—stuck, on thoughts like that.”  

Across from her, Yamagi hummed understanding.  “Have you tried just starting over?”

“That’s rather the point of the gift,” Kudelia admitted, feeling a touch of heat in her cheeks that she certainly had not yet drunk enough to justify.  “I want to remind her that…”  She trailed off, wincing faintly and picking up her glass.  Was it too selfish, or too naïve, to say, There’s enough luck to go around?  Or, She should think of her own protection too?

Yamagi tsked softly, and she looked up to find him running a length of hemp back and forth over the edge of the table with more force than was probably necessary, then frowning when it wrinkled again stubbornly.

“I know what you mean by the gift.  I meant you should just start over on making it.”  He held up the half-woven bracelet, its loose strands crimped and uneven.  “You’re never going to get a smooth line out of these.”

“…Oh.”  She took it back from him and laid it out across the table.  “That’s a good point.”

“I’d find something sturdier to work with for practice.  Go back to the hemp when you’re more confident,” he advised, returning to his beer.

They passed a few moments in silence, Yamagi studying her as she forlornly pressed her fingers across the curving braid then lifted them away, a pensive repetition.

“She always put beads on them,” he said eventually.  “Do you have one picked out?”

Kudelia paused, then smiled, gathering the bracelet off the table and letting it curl around her fingers and in the palm of her hand.

“Yes,” she answered softly, drawing the unfinished gift to lie close over her abdomen.  “A lily.”

At the two month mark, Chad, Atra and Merribit had what Merribit called a working lunch at Chad’s apartment, away from all possible distractions, to finalize the specific details of the wedding day plan—a timetable and instructions for setting up, carrying out, and cleaning up after the ceremony and reception.

It turned into a dinner as well, afternoon stretching into evening as they made phone calls, shuffled papers, referenced photos, debated the order of events, and in all other ways hammered out the framework for the big day.  By the end of the night, there was a copy of the schedule in each of their homes: Merribit’s locked securely in a desk, Atra’s pinned to the farm’s refrigerator, and Chad’s folded up and tucked in an inside pocket of his work jacket.

Two weeks later, Dante drove Atra to the city clerk’s office to file the request for a marriage license.

Growing up in the slums, Atra had developed a general, vague understanding that marriage licenses were hard to obtain, leading many of Mars’ poorer citizens to throw up their hands and decide to celebrate anyway, even with ceremonies that everyone knew weren’t legally binding.  For years, she’d assumed it was just a matter of expense.  She’d been shocked when she started researching what kind of paperwork went into a lawfully recognized wedding, at the level of vitriol and indignance she found in the public conversation about it.

The economic blocs, she read in article after article, had done everything they could to stop Martian citizens from building solidarity with one another, from union breaking to vote manipulation, from large-scale political interference down to the meanest level of meddling in Martians’ personal lives.  The expense of getting a marriage license, it turned out, had only been the most obvious bit of obstructionism; the process had also demanded permanent addresses, documented family information, a detailed medical history, and proof of stable income.  Even if they met all the requirements, it hadn’t been uncommon for a couple’s filing to be turned down on formalities, or for unclear reasons, and with no clear way to put in a complaint or ask for a reconsideration.

The whole mess was one of the earliest things that had landed on the Martian Union’s docket, and from there, been dropped down to individual cities’ councils to wrestle with, adding yet another item in a long list of considerations about what African Union policies Chryse was going to keep, what they’d modify, and what they’d throw out completely.  The last referendum about it, enacted mostly as a stop-gap until the city council had the time to debate it in detail, had set an eight-year minimum for common law marriages, cut the price of licenses by almost two-thirds, and stripped out every requirement except for the permanent address and a bare-bones medical assessment.

The waiting period from before the planet’s independence was one of the only things that hadn’t changed—the city office required a month’s advance notice, after which it would issue a certificate to be used at a ceremony within the month and signed by both members of the union and two witnesses.  Yukinojo, who had for years belligerently stamped his factory logo with the eye insignia that had once taken aim at Rustal Elion himself, roughly assured the brides that he and Merribit would witness for them.

When the Union next recessed, Atra gave Kudelia a few days to wrangle press appearances and business with the Admoss Company before stealing her away for more shopping—gifts, this time, for the wedding party.  In the afternoon’s long warmth, the two of them strolled hand-in-hand through the rejuvenated downtown’s stores and shops, Kudelia in her sunglasses resolutely ignoring the familiar blond head tailing them street to street, Atra shooting Eugene cheeky, unrepentant grins when she caught his eye and found him scowling at the length of their browsing.

When she spotted a kitchen goods store, Atra swerved into it, teasing a fond smile onto Kudelia’s face.  She trailed her fiancée through the different displays, asking questions when she—not infrequently—saw a tool or machine she didn’t recognize, content to let Atra be the expert.

She’d assumed it was a detour to buy something for the farm, and so she had no warning when Atra carefully tugged a boxed stand mixer off a shelf, settled one edge against her hip, and looked up to ask, “What should we do about your mother?”

“P-Pardon?” Kudelia stammered, blindsided.

“This is for Miss Haba.”  Atra bounced the mixer box once in demonstration, a quick smile rising to her lips.  “You’re supposed to buy presents for your parents, too, and—well, I thought about it, and she’s almost like a mother to me—she’s definitely the closest thing I have to one, anyway, and I want to tell her so.”  Her smile slid away as quickly as it had come, her eyes resting on Kudelia with a solemn awareness of the weight of the topic.  “I know your mother hasn’t responded to the invitation yet, but…”

“No, she…”  Kudelia swallowed, taking a breath to collect herself.  “We’ve barely spoken in years.”

“Weddings are a good time to mend broken bridges, everyone says.”  Atra gave her an encouraging smile.  “We should get her something.  It doesn’t have to be anything too big.  What does she like?”

“Goodness…”  Kudelia released the breath again, thinking back on her mother, with whom she’d never shared a great many interests to begin with.  “We had a garden, but she mostly just took tea there; I don’t think I ever saw her do anything more than cut roses.”

“She likes tea, though?”

“I suppose.  It’s the sort of thing nobles do, drinking tea.  And there’s so much class divide to it.”

“Class divide?  With tea?”

Kudelia smiled, though it felt wan on her face.  “All the finest tea is grown on Earth.  That’s what the devotees tell you, anyway.  I don’t know how much difference there is, really.”  And I won’t import tea leaves all the way from Earth as a show of wealth, not even as a gift, she thought, with a twinge of guilt both for keeping the thought silent and for the angry resentment of having it at all.

“Mm…  What else?”  Atra adjusted her grip on the mixer again and headed up towards the counter.  Kudelia drifted after her.

“She plays the piano, but I don’t know what I could get her for that that she doesn’t already have.  Most of it belonged to her mother, anyway; it’s all heirloom.  She knits, she—”

Atra giggled suddenly, ducking her head to hide a smile.  “Seriously?  She doesn’t do her own gardening and she has to import expensive tea, but she does her own knitting?”

Kudelia huffed out a short laugh.  “When you say it that way, I guess it does sound a little unusual.”

Atra hummed, looking thoughtful as she rummaged in her purse for payment.  Kudelia shot the girl behind the counter a polite smile, resisting the urge to brush back a lock of her hair and draw any attention to herself with such a self-conscious gesture.  Once Atra had her change and the bagged mixer, Kudelia took her purse from her and they headed back outside.

“Does she have a yarn bowl?” Atra asked, picking the conversation back up again.

“A—bowl?  No, I don’t think so,” Kudelia answered, puzzled.  As far as she could remember, her mother had always just set her sewing basket beside her chair in the upstairs drawing room, alternating between her quiet work and long, distant stares out the window.  She never would tell Kudelia what she was thinking about at times like that, sitting still and solemn and gazing at the sky.

Atra hummed assent and smiled, and Kudelia’s attention returned to her fiancée in a swift, warm rush of affection.  “I think I have an idea.”

With all the biggest arrangements made, the wedding party turned their attention to the smaller things, all the little accessories and personal items that would be physical reminders long after flowers wilted and dresses were outgrown.

Some of it, they could go without—a personalized knife and server set for their modest cake would be an extravagance when Cyllene included everything they needed in the normal array of dishes and flatware.  The same went for a dish to put under the shoe Atra would be leaving at the center of the dance floor.

The lodge had a price for renting champagne flutes as well, but Cucubita convinced Kudelia that those, at least, could be pulled out for anniversary dinners, and the memory would be worth the investment.  The guestbook, too—if there was any place to splurge on a paper product, it was there.

The kneeling pillows, Atra made herself, a quick two nights’ work with the farm’s sewing machine.  That weekend, she drove into town herself to pick up a length of silk, dyed the brilliant color of crushed strawberries, that she’d ordered after talking to Sakura about wedding practices months prior.

Something borrowed, something red, a piece of home and a lump of lead, the old woman had told her at the time in a firm, no-arguments-allowed tone, and so the words were folded into the planning.  Red, in the silk scarf that would bind their wrists together—their unity practice.

Cookie and Cracker had provided her the something-borrowed; they’d come home from school for the weekend with a secretive sparkle in their eyes, and with a curious air of reverence, had each taken one of her wrists and tugged her into their bedroom.  Knowing better than to even attempt prying it out of them, Atra waited patiently for Cookie to unearth a round box from the depths of their closet while Cracker stood by and squeezed Atra’s hand, smiling like a woman remembering a long-lost sweetheart.

The veil had belonged to their mother, they explained as Atra stared down at the folds of white organza trimmed with delicate beads and thin lace flowers.  They’d use it themselves at their own weddings, of course, that was always the plan, but they didn’t think their mother would mind if Atra did too, and Atra could think of it as a gesture from both them and Biscuit, so—

And then they had to hurriedly pull the box away as Atra’s eyes overflowed and she dissolved into blubbering, and it took the better part of an hour and a pot of tea before they managed to get back to doing anything useful with the day.

For the piece of home, the party briefly discussed using some of the farm’s harvesting baskets to hold flowers, but hurriedly nixed that plan when Merribit pointed out, as gently as possible, that using plain woven baskets to hold the painstakingly arranged flower sculptures Makanai was overseeing would probably send the old man into apoplexy.  Abashed, Kudelia proposed setting her fountain pen by the guest book instead.

The lump of lead came from Yamagi, who went into work early one morning and spent two hours working a cast-off scrap into shape, shaving off its rough edges, pressing it into a smooth, oblong disc, and buffing it to a smooth matte gloss.

Atra came by that night to pick it up, and stood very still as he placed the stone in her hand and folded her fingers closed over it.

“For good luck,” he told her, voice low, and she nodded, her smile soft with understanding.

(Like my writing?  Consider buying me a coffee or other overpriced coffee beverage via the Ko-fi link at my About page!)

[bromfieldhall]

“Redwood” - A Mentalist Fanfiction

TIMELINE: Set some time after season five episode, ‘Red Sails in the Sunset’. Goes AU from there.

SYNOPISIS: Jane and Lisbon are forced into a deadly game when they try and catch a new serial killer.

PAIRING: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon - Jisbon

Previous Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

CHAPTER 9

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the woods pulling Zack and Wade up short. They glanced at each other then hurried on.

Zack took the lead, eager to find out what had happened. He just hoped to God that his uncle had merely maimed one of them and not killed them outright.

"The dogs are onto something," called Wade from behind as the hounds noticeably picked up their speed.

"It's about time," Zack groused irritably. "I can't believe Ben let those Fed's get this far."

The dogs began to whine and the two young men broke into a jog to keep up with them as they began tugging hard on their leashes. Zack expected to see his uncle step out and tell them to keep the noise down any minute but instead the dogs veered off into a patch of ferns.

"What the…?" he exclaimed then broke off as he was greeted with the gruesome sight of his dead uncle.

The dogs whined as they sniffed around the corpse and pawed anxiously at the ground while Zack surveyed the scene impassively. He noted the blood and splatter that coated the leaves and tree bark in the surrounding area then returned his gaze to his deceased uncle. He bent and touched his hand, noting it was still warm then stood again. The bullet hole in his uncle's forehead was perfectly dead centre. Whichever of the Fed's did it was an excellent shot. He'd have to remember that.

"Oh my God! No. Dad!" cried Wade in horror as he pushed passed his cousin and fell to the ground by the side of his father. He reached out and desperately shook the inert body as if it might miraculously bring him back to life. "Dad? Dad!"

"Save it, Wade, he's not going to hear you," Zack sneered, a cruel smile lifting his lips. Frankly, he was glad the old bastard was dead. It saved him having to do it. Although, in a way he had, it was his gun they'd used after all.

"Shut up, Zack," Wade snapped angrily, tears running down his cheeks as he looked up and gave the other man a furious glare only to see red when he saw that he was smiling.

He'd always known his cousin was a cold son of a bitch but that was too much. The grief and devastation of losing his father quickly mutated to an overwhelming anger against the person he ultimately held responsible. He stood up suddenly then lunged at Zack, swinging his arm wildly as he attempted to hit him.

Zack dodged him easily and laughed derisively when his cousin stumbled over onto the ground. Wade went to get up but, all of a sudden, his stomach churned ominously, the stark reality of seeing his father shot in the head too much for him to take. He managed to get onto his hands and knees just in time before he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the leaf strewn ground.

Zack snorted in disgust and shook his head. He was about to comment when one of the dogs suddenly tilted its head back and let out a mournful howl as it realised that its master wasn't just asleep. Seconds later, the other hound joined in causing him to wince in annoyance at the noise.

"Can't you shut those damn mutts up?" he demanded brusquely as he placed a hard kick on the side of the one that he held on a leash causing it to yelp in pain. "The Fed's will know where we are."

Wade stood and wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. His stomach ached from the strain of vomiting and his throat burned.

"Quiet," he ordered hoarsely then repeated himself a little louder when the one still yarling didn't immediately obey. "I said quiet!"

It stopped and looked at him with a whine. He went over and picked up its leash and his rifle, where he'd dropped it to run to his father and tried not to let his eyes stray to the body again. He couldn't stomach it.

"Body's still warm, that means the Fed's can't be far," Zack stated dispassionately as he turned away. "If you've finished puking, we can go get them."

Wade watched him walk off, a mixture of disgust and hatred swirling around inside of him. His father had been so right about Zack. He'd always said that his nephew's erratic behaviour would bring everything crashing down about their ears and it had, with his dad paying the price. Indirectly, it was true, but it was still all down to Zack and his inability to curb his increasingly psychotic behaviour.

"It's your fault Dad's dead," Wade accused raggedly, his grip tightening on his rifle as his mouth thinned into a determined line.

Zack stopped and turned around slowly, eyebrows raised.

"I didn't kill him, the Fed's did," he corrected casually.

"And who brought them here? Who let them escape?" his cousin demanded, his voice cracking as he pointed his gun at him. "It was you, all you, Zack."

The dark haired man tensed at the obvious threat then noticed the way Wade's hands trembled and how he shifted a little nervously from foot to foot. Slowly, he smiled and took a step towards him.

"So what if it was? What are you going to do about it, Wade? Shoot me?" he goaded mockingly before sneering, "You don't have the balls, the past few months have proved that…always a little too slow to make it to the final kill, aren't you? Don't think I haven't noticed."

"Just shut the hell up," his cousin ground out as more tears made their way down his face at the taunts.

"How about if I tell you that I don't care that Ben got it? That the Fed's did me a favour and I just wish I'd been here to see it," Zack jeered nastily. "Does that give you the guts to pull the trigger, cousin?"

Wade drew in a sharp breath, his whole body jerking from trying to control the grief and anger that Zack had ignited within him. Knowing the gun was primed to fire, his finger rested against the trigger and he willed himself to squeeze the little metal clip back.

Zack watched him for a few moments, noting the way the gun wavered and the conflicted expression that contorted his cousin's face as he warred with himself.

Suddenly, Wade let out a tortured cry of frustration and despair that he couldn't go through with it and lowered the rifle with a stifled sob. Zack shook his head and looked at his cousin pityingly.

"I knew you couldn't do it, Wade. Too much of a coward to shoot me when I'm facing you…but I can't take the chance that you won't do it when my back's turned," he said on a sigh then, before his cousin had any notion of what was about to happen, Zack raised his gun and shot him right in the stomach. At such close range, the other young man didn't stand a chance.

Wade cried out in shock and pain as he fell backwards writhing in agony. The dogs started barking crazily and Zack coolly turned then fired off two more shots effectively silencing them for good before turning back to his cousin. He walked over and looked down at him blankly. The young man was gasping shallowly now, his life slowly ebbing away. Normally he liked to watch them bleed out, enjoyed seeing them take their last breaths, but he knew the noise would've alerted the Fed's and he had to move quickly now.

Without a second thought he levelled the gun and blasted a bullet right into Wade's head. 'Like father, like son,' he thought in amusement before calmly reloading his rifle then turning and jogging away.

xxTheMentalistxx

Lisbon ran quickly to the fork her feet moving swiftly through the undergrowth that had thinned out into a wider, easier track that she assumed the van had driven along to take them to the cabin.

She moved over to one side trying to use the trees as some kind of protection when she could. Rifle in one hand and cellphone in the other, she glanced at it every few seconds willing just one tiny bar to appear so that she might try and call Cho.

The entire time she ran her thoughts were on Jane, desperately hoping that he was going to hold on. She'd felt his hand getting colder and colder as they'd spoken, knew if he wasn't seen by a doctor soon it would be too late. Just past the fork and around a bend, she checked her phone again then felt her heart skip as she saw a single lone bar in the top corner. It wasn't lost on her that had they just managed to take the right path in the first place, none of this would've happened. She stopped and darted behind a tree as she pressed Cho's speed dial number with slightly trembling hands.

"Come on, come on," she muttered urgently as she waited for the sound of a ring tone to come down the extremely crackly line. When it went straight to voicemail, Lisbon felt the disappointment of it like a stab to the heart and before she could even leave a message the call suddenly disconnected, the signal lost. "Damn it."

She was about to continue on when the sound of a car engine reached her ears. Her immediate inclination was to run towards it but then she thought better of it and moved back further behind the tree just in case. She peeked around the trunk and a couple of seconds later a police car rolled into view. Lisbon felt such an enormous wave of relief crash through her that she had to cling to the bark for a moment to keep herself upright before finding her legs again and dashing out from her hiding place.

"Oh, thank God," she said as Sheriff Newland stopped the car and got out.

"Agent Lisbon, are you alright? We've been searching for you," he said, his surprise at seeing her not forced. He had expected to find her at the cabin. Obviously she'd escaped. It was worse than he'd originally thought.

Just then, three gunshots echoed loudly through the woods causing Lisbon to spin around in her tracks and stare back at where she came from in shock. Her body seemed to go ice cold before heating up suddenly as a feeling of nausea took hold.

"No," she murmured fearfully before looking over at the Sheriff and ordering curtly, "Radio in for back up and an ambulance. Now!"

Turning away, she started to run; her only thought to get back to Jane. Another shot sounded and her stomach lurched sickeningly. There could only be one reason for the gunfire and the mental image of her consultant sitting there unprotected and in no state to even put up a fight as he was executed tortured her relentlessly, spurring her on.

She'd never forgive herself for leaving him. Ever.

XxTheMentalistxx

Zack came to a halt and looked down at a patch of bloody leaves in interest. There was a trail of blood drops leading away and he began to follow it slowly. It appeared that Ben had managed to get a good hit on one of the Fed's before he bought it himself. That was something at least. Zack had had visions of chasing them clear back to Arcata.

At least now he knew that they were hindered and from the relatively consistent drops of blood that the injured one was leaving in their wake, they were pathetically easy to follow too. It was disappointing in a way, took the fun out of it.

He walked on a couple more steps then saw that there were a few red droplets close to each other then nothing. He held his rifle a little tighter and checked the surrounding area until he spied another splash of blood on a light coloured leaf a little further along on his left.

He went over to it and then saw another a little further over again. He followed the new trail then looked up and saw that it seemed to be heading towards a particular tree just a few feet away. A slow smile spread across his face as he readied his gun and headed over.

xxTheMentalistxx

Breathing heavily, Lisbon rounded the bend and came to the fork. She slowed down to a walk and raised her gun as she edged forwards. Through the trees, she suddenly caught sight of Zack standing a few feet away from her consultant's hiding place and her stomach rolled unpleasantly. In her head, seeing him there merely confirmed her dreadful fear that he'd killed Jane. It didn't even register that when he began moving it were toward the tree rather than away.

Tears threatened again but she blinked the moisture away, stubbornly refusing to let them fall this time. She'd mourn later when she was alone. Not now. Not when she still had to get the guy that had taken Jane from her.

"Hold it right there," she called out, her voice strong and commanding despite the grief she felt. Zack froze then slowly turned to look at her, a malicious grin blooming on his face. Lisbon fought the near irresistible urge to just pull the trigger and the consequences by damned. Instead she quickly approached him and warned curtly, "Put down the gun, right now."

Zack stared back at her completely unconcerned. "And what if I don't?" he asked challengingly.

"I'll shoot you," the agent replied without hesitation.

"I don't think so, Agent Lisbon," suddenly came the Sheriff's voice from just behind her.

Her head snapped around in surprise. She hadn't even heard him approach.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked incredulously as she warily eyed the pistol that he had trained, not on the killer, but her instead.

"I would've thought that was obvious," he replied, releasing the safety on his gun. "I'm protecting my son."

Lisbon looked back at him aghast. His son? Suddenly, the lack of evidence for any of the victims made sense now. He'd obviously been covering it up and probably paid Hicks off too. Hard on the heels of that enlightenment was the terrifying realisation that Newland most definitely wouldn't have called for back up.

There would be no one to help her now, she was all alone.

Taking an involuntary step back, she grasped her rifle tighter as she channelled all her grief and fear into a steely new resolve. A determined expression settled on her face as her gaze flicked from one man to the other assessing which one she was going to go for first.

The odds might be stacked heavily against her, but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to go down fighting.

END CHAPTER 9

[up-sideand-down]

Strings of Fate: Ch. 4

Zack gives up on his honor and dreams when Cloud dies on their way to Midgar. However, not everything in the Lifestream intends to stay there. As Zack tries to put his life back together, two of his old friends are planning their own revenge on ShinRa, and death cannot stop them.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 AO3 Link

It had become routine. Zack had started leaving Elmyra’s house far earlier than the other two women rose. He knew it was just safer. He was still a wanted man and he didn’t know if the Turks still kept an eye on Aerith. He suspected it was so, but he had been a good distraction for them. He didn’t want to put her in more danger than he already had. 

Seventh Heaven, while not the most clandestine place, was a small step up. After the first mission, he definitely felt more welcome. Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge all welcomed him. Barret had started using his first name rather than “the new guy”. Tifa, while still awkward and cold, offered him food and drink when she had it. Marlene had stopped hiding behind Barret to ask her if Aerith was coming. He always felt a little guilty when he told her no. 

Zack still blinked when Barret pulled him aside to ask a favor. 

“I’m...sorry?” Zack asked. Barret sighed. 

“Materia,” Barret repeated, “I never learned how to use it.”

“Oh,” Zack didn’t know what to say. Then he had a thought he hadn’t had for a while. What would Angeal do? It hurt less than he thought it would. 

“Well...do you have a bracer?” Zack asked. By the look on Barret’s face, the answer appeared to be no. 

“Let’s go find one,” Zack said, “we might be able to attach it to your arm. You don’t technically need one, but it’s loads easier with one.” Barret listened gruffly...but he listened. 

Zack beamed when Barret cast a weak cure on Wedge, impressed at how quickly he learned. Barret tried to hand the borrowed Materia back, but Zack waved it off. 

“I think most people should have their own Cure,” Zack said, “I’m sure I’ll find another one soon.”

“Thanks,” Barret said, equipping the Materia back into his bracer.

His favorite part was still meeting Aerith at the end of the day. He still wasn’t sure...but her smile seemed warmer, more relieved. 

Perhaps it was all getting better. 

Aerith felt horribly distracted as she tended to her flowers. She knew this morning she could not handle selling flowers today. That, and Zack asked her not to. 

It was another bombing day. Zack had been telling her about it for a few weeks, then Tifa, finally Barret Wallace had come up to her. 

“Tifa wants to come with us this time,” he said, “and...I don’t wanna leave Marlene alone. She’s taken quite a liking to you, and I’m willing to pay-” Aerith quieted him with a touch on his arm. 

“I’d be happy to watch Marlene,” Aerith said. 

She smiled as the little girl, carefully pulled up the weeds around the flowers. She kept feeling like something was about to go very wrong. She kept glancing up at the sky. 

She heard the explosion and her heart rate spiked. It wasn’t until someone horribly familiar fell into the church that she panicked. Marlene screamed when she recognized her. 

Zack stretched his arm out to help Tifa after the Air Buster machine blew up. He was past caring about anyone recognizing him. The catwalk had blown up and she couldn’t reach the top without letting go. He didn’t know if the reactor bomb would reach out here, but he wasn’t going to just sacrifice Tifa just in case. 

He owed her that much. 

The ShinRa helicopter buffeted the air around them, but Zack still reached. 

“Tifa!” he yelled. She looked up at him, then to the reactor, then back. 

“I’ll be okay,” she said, “Tell Barret, I’m going to be fine.”

“No,” he called, “You can make it.” She smiled sadly at him...then she let go.

Aerith ran over to Tifa. She was still alive...but she didn’t know how hurt she was. Marlene wept over her body. Aerith felt for a pulse. 

“She’s gonna be okay,” Aerith said, “Marlene, she’s going to be fine, just...” Already the wind was coming up through her. Marlene watched her with wide eyes. The world tinged green for a moment and leaves and petals whipped around them. 

Aerith took in a breath as the wind pulled itself around Marlene and Tifa, not knowing which person Aerith meant to heal. 

The moment it died down, Tifa sat up with a groan and a heavy cough. 

“Tifa!” Marlene cried and jumped on her. Aerith heaved a sigh in relief. 

Zack hung his head when he told the others about Tifa. Barret was the one who finally touched him. He gave Zack a light shove 

“Hey,” he said, “If she said she’s gonna be fine, then she’s gonna be fine.” 

Tifa coughed and held her head when Marlene jumped on her. 

“Marlene, don’t jump on her.”

“Tifa! Tifa!” Marlene cried, “You’re okay!” 

“Wha?” She looked around Aerith’s church, wondering how on Gaia she got here of all places. 

“You fell through the ceiling and...and you weren’t moving, than Aerith prayed for something...and you woke up!” Marlene said. 

“Marlene, let her take it easy,” Aerith said. Tifa looked up at her, rubbing at her head. 

“Are you okay?” Aerith asked. 

“Yeah,” Tifa said, “Yeah, I think so.” She stood up, stretching out. Everything seemed to be working and in the right spot. 

“Sorry...about the flowers,” Tifa said. 

“It’s okay,” Aerith said, “They might bounce back. I’m just glad you’re alright.” Tifa nodded. 

“The others should have made it,” she trailed off when she looked towards the entrance. Aerith looked over at Reno...and the troopers he brought with him. Goddammit, this was not her day. 

“Sorry yo,” Reno said, he at least had the decency to look upset about it, “hate to break up a party.”

“Take Marlene to the back,” Aerith said, “I know a way out.”

Zack couldn’t stay with the others. They were talking about trying to find out how ShinRa knew which reactor they would hit. Something about a guy in Wall Market. Zack would get a re-cap later. 

If Tifa was...then...Zack blamed himself. Could have tried harder to reach her. Could have jumped down to try and boost her up. 

He knew the others would hold out hope until the truth stared them in the face. Luckily for him, the truth landed directly on top of him. 

Aerith high-fived Marlene after she pushed over a barrel that took out a trooper and let her run up to the second story. Tifa made short work of her own trooper and followed them up to the rafter. Tifa saw the hole they were going towards. 

“Really?” she asked. Aerith smiled at her apologetically. 

“That’s the hole Zack fell through,” Aerith said, “We can get out on the rooftops.”

“Have you done this before?” Tifa asked. 

“Umm...no?” Aerith said, “but do you have a better idea?” Tifa paused then turned to Marlene. 

“Climb on my back sweetheart,” she said, “and hold on tight.”

The roofs were surprisingly even and sturdy. There were only a few jumps that made Tifa nervous, but the rest were easy peasy. 

Then she slipped...and landed on someone. She started to apologize and then she heard Zack’s voice say. 

“Oh thank the gods you’re alive.”

Zack did not take the news that the Turks had come into the church very well. He refused to leave the girls alone, so the all walked together back to Sector 6 and Elmyra’s house. Marlene gasped when she saw Aerith’s garden at home. Aerith laughed. 

“I thought you might like it,” she said. 

Elmyra stopped in the doorway and shook her head when she saw all of them. Aerith laughed at her expression as she led them inside. Zack had asked Tifa if she was okay 6 times so far. 

“I told you,” she said, “I’m fine.” 

“But its-” Zack started. 

“You know how much of a cushion those flowers give,” Tifa said with a smirk. Zack closed his mouth. 

“She told you about that huh?” Zack said sheepishly. 

“It’s one way to make an impression,” Aerith said. Tifa snickered at that. Elmyra was busy getting acquainted with Marlene. Aerith had them all sit at the table and they began to get the whole story straight. 

“So...we should find out how ShinRa knew which reactor you would attack,” Aerith said. 

“We?” Zack said, “Aerith, I don’t think-”

“Zack,” Aerith said, “this isn’t the first time the Turks have come for me. The safest thing for me to do...is not be where they think they can find me...that means I’m coming with you.”

“You’re better off not arguing,” Elmyra told him gravely. Marlene was having the time of her life learning how to make cookies. 

“Don Corneo,” Tifa said, “We know he has ties to ShinRa...and we think he’s the main leak for a lot of anti-ShinRa groups. We can use him to get dish on ShinRa...if we’re careful. He’s always in that mansion in Wall Market”

“Alright then,” Zack said. It sounded pretty easy. 

“One problem,” Tifa said, “It’s hard to even get inside...except if you’re a pretty girl. He has a...little deal going on that girls who sleep with him can get...a lot of money. He picks just one out of all the girls who show up.”

“You’re not going in there alone,” Zack said. 

“I’ll go with her,” Aerith volunteered. 

“No,” Zack said. 

“What else are we going to do?” Tifa asked, “No offense Zack, but you’re not exactly pretty...or female.” 

“Well...” Aerith said, “he only has to look that way.” Zack did not like the look on her face. 

“This is a fucking perverted scavenger hunt,” Zack said when he stepped out of the Honey Bee Inn. The men around Aerith dispersed. She was busily counting a lot gil as he approached. 

“What were you up to?” he asked. 

“Selling flowers,” she said innocently. He held out the underwear he’d procured, but she refused with that same damn smirk on her face. 

“Too big for me,” she said, “must be for you.”

“You both are really lucky I like you a lot,” Zack grumbled. 

“Come on,” Aerith said, “Tifa got the dressmaker back. He’s pretty excited to make yours.”

Tifa was already dressed, tugging at the hem that looked as short as it probably felt. She looked good though. 

“You’re turn,” Aerith said pushing him into the dressing room. Zack glared at the purple monstronsity waiting for him in there. 

At least it wasn’t as itchy as it looked. 

“Where are we putting our real clothes?” Zack asked. 

“There’s a bag in there,” Tifa called. 

“Where’s the wig?” Zack asked. 

“Here,” Aerith started. Zack stuck his arm out before she could open the sheet. 

The girls looked far too excited to see him emerge. 

“Damn,” Tifa said, sounding impressed. 

“You look so pretty...Zacaria.” Zack shook his head at them. 

“You know what, man,” Zack said glaring at the sad excuse of a human being on the bed, “you have terrible taste in women.” He was not expecting to be the one picked. He didn’t look that pretty, right. The words Don Corneo had used was “healthy looking”. 

He squirmed around on the bed as Zack, Aerith, and Tifa surrounded him. 

“Talk or I’ll cut them off,” Zack said. The Don told them ShinRa knew where Barret’s hideout was

“You’ll talk,” Tifa said, “or I’ll smash them.” She cracked her knuckles as she leaned forward. The Don admitted he told Heidegger.

“You’ll talk,” Aerith said, coldly, “or I’ll rip them off.” And then they all knew ShinRa’s plan. They were going to drop the plate at Sector 7. Tifa looked to Zack, looking worried. 

And then Don Corneo pulled the lever and dropped the floor on them. But Zack didn’t care, they had bigger worries. 

“Hey,” Zack said, catching up to Aerith, “That was some act you had in there.” 

“Who said it was an act?” Aerith said climbing through the broken trains. 

“You know...I am now madly in love with you.” She shook his head at him and caught up to Tifa. 

“Hey,” he said to Tifa, “If we don’t hear fighting, it’s a good thing.” She nodded back at him, but still moved forward. They had to make it. 

He had arrived at Midgar. Within a few minutes he had killed a Shinra worker and taken his ID. His eye was on the tower. He humphed at it. There was more security here than he remembered. 

Have more patience, Cloud.You merely require some sort of distraction to gain entry inside. 

“I know,” he hissed. Invisible fingers threaded through his hair ever so gently, teasing him with how close to his goal he was. He couldn’t run out of time now. He was so close. 

We will succeed Cloud. Mother is here, once you have her, we have won. 

“Then I’ll have to have a plan inside,” he said. 

You learn fast Cloud. 

“I learned from the best,” Cloud replied. The vibrations in his body felt like laughter. The clone’s body knew reunion was close, it was making the messages clearer and clearer. 

He stayed near the tower, watching people come in and out with nothing but utter contempt. 

That is...until he saw the people who would help him get inside. 

[lovelyladyventress]

Tell me which one of these AUs sounds the most interesting and which one you’d like to read more about? (long post)

Here I am, back at it again with my AU bullshit. Complete with my ugly ass dauntingly long list of AUs that I’d love to write about but can’t seem to decide which one to start writing. This has been going on for the past week, dammit! If it’s not too much trouble, could you please help a girl out and let me know either on here or in a PM which one of these you’re curious about or would like to see implemented in an actual story.

Here are four Cloud-centric AU ideas which include (multiple) gay, bi, and (some) het main/side pairings. Regardless of which one I decide to write first, I (wistful thinking) want to eventually complete most or all of them, even if some of them only end up being one-shots. Thank you! <3

Mercenary Zack and Delivery Boy Cloud AU

Zack, a mercenary, and Cloud, a delivery boy, have been best friends since they were youngsters. Zack is straight but is undeniably (and confusingly into Cloud. Cloud is bi (with a strong leaning towards males) and he’s only recently started to explore that. One day, while Zack and Cloud are hanging out, Zack’s PHS dies and he asks to borrow Cloud’s laptop to check some work-related emails. Cloud says sure, completely forgetting what he’d been “researching” before Zack came over to hang out.

Cloud, suddenly remembering the content of said “research”, screeches out, “NoOoOoO!” whilst comically tripping over himself as he races to stop Zack from opening his laptop.

Zack, being Zack, laughs good-naturedly at Cloud’s behavior and says, “What, don’t want your bestie to see all your fReAkY sHiT LOL?”

Before Cloud can stop him, Zack unlocks the laptop (he knows the password, because, hello, besties) and proceeds to open up about ten tabs of LOUD GAY LEMONY YOU KNOW WHAT (all with actors that are blond and black-haired, hmm s u s p i c i o u s).

Cloud is fucking mortified and literally RUNS out of his own apartment and disappears (disintegrates) into the void while leaving Zack sitting there like a stunned D U M B A S S *insert shocked Pikachu meme here* Hilarity, fluffy romance, and “LeMoNs” ensue.

Main ship and only ship will be Clack/Zakkura. Syrupy sweet, comical, with only a pinch of plot-related angst. Will most likely be a one-shot/two-shot.

Vampire Slayer AU

Set in a world where Shinra keeps the existence of vampires and vampire covens a well-guarded secret from the general public of Midgar in order to keep its citizens calm, orderly, and manageable (see controllable).

Due to the frequency of recent vampire attacks in Midgar’s slums and outlying towns and villages, they charge their best slayer, Cloud Strife, and his partner with the task of finding and killing the progenitor of all vampire-kind in order to end the covert war between humans and vampires and kill off their kind, for good.

That is, until Cloud is double-crossed by his partner, who wants the title of Shinra’s best vampire slayer for himself, and Cloud is left for dead in a forest miles away from civilization. Cloud thinks he’s finally done for this time, until he’s saved by a half-vampire named Vincent, who then proceeds to take Cloud to his maker, Sephiroth, the son of the first progenitor.

Cloud’s only shot at making it out of this alive is playing at Sephiroth’s personal interest in him in a game of cat and mouse until he can get the vampire to trust him enough to let him get close to the progenitor in order to (finally) end the war once and for all and return to his former life.

Main ships are Sefikura with a possibility of some Strifentine. Side ships are Aerti, Scarlet x Elena, and a bunch of others. Angsty, passionate, romantic, and dark. Will probably be a six-shot or more. Who knows?

Life After Meteorfall Canon Divergence AU (I’m excited about this one)

An AU in which both Angeal, Zack, and Aerith (although, just barely) live and help kick Sephiroth’s ass in the final battle. Sephiroth has been defeated by the gang for good (no really, for good y’all), and now the world has turned to healing, mourning, and attempting to rebuild itself after the scars Sephiroth has left behind in his monstrous wake.

Cloud still has lingering feelings for Zack leftover from his time as an infantryman, but desperately hides this fact from both Aerith and Zack because he knows how long they’ve waited and how much suffering they’ve had to endure in order to be with each other. He also cares deeply for both of them and wants them to be happy, despite his own conflicting emotions.

Although Aerith is (slightly) suspicious, Zack is oblivious to it all because he’s finally got the girl of his dreams and has his love-addled goggles on (god dammit Zackary) and asks Cloud to be his best man at their wedding (ugh angst me upppppp baby).

Angeal, however, is not oblivious to it in the slightest. He sees the overly forced smiles, the longing stares, the glances of complete and utter h e a r t b r e a k Cloud shoots Zack when he thinks no one is watching/paying attention to him. And finally, fed up after months of sitting back and just silently observing Cloud falling into emotional ruin, Angeal finally intends to do something about it, honor be damned.

Main ship is Cloudgeal. Side pairings are Zerith, Rude x Tifa (don’t judge me, y’all, I ship SO MUCH this fandom), and possibly many more. Angsty, fluffy, romantic, and with a ridiculously happy ending where everyone reaches a happy, healthy understanding. Will most likely be either a three-shot or a six-shot.

Omegaverse SOLDIER AU (let me liveeeeeee, dammit!)

After failing to get into SOLDIER three times in a row (the max amount of times one can attempt in their lifetime) and having his childhood dream of becoming a hero shattered like glass, Cloud, a Beta cadet, is more than done with SOLDIER and everything to do with the corrupt Shinra Corporation (Uh huh. Suuuuure).

This opinion is only further solidified when Cloud discovers the tragic fate of his hometown: Nibelheim, in an “unprecedented” explosion of its Mako Reactor, burns to the ground, resulting in the deaths of Cloud’s mother and every single person Cloud grew up with. With no home to return to, Cloud, following his best friend Zack Fair’s advice, begrudgingly decides to join the Shinra military as an infantryman and work as a menial grunt for the military’s more prominent SOLDIER members.

That is, until one day during a mission Cloud’s entire unit, including a group of skilled Third and Second Class SOLDIERS assisting them, are slaughtered in a brutal, bloody conflict, leaving Cloud the only one left alive after the mission’s end.

This not only catches the eye of the Director of SOLDIER himself, but several of its First Class members, who are so impressed with the Beta’s strength that they wish to assess Cloud’s capabilities for themselves, personally. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

This leads Cloud down a path filled with convincing lies and hard truths as he discovers the reality of his origins, unveiling secrets about Shinra and his past that he could have gone a lifetime without knowing. He realizes the hard way that sometimes what you dream for, what you desperately wish for, isn’t always something you want in the long run.

Main ships are a tie between Sefikura and Clack/Zakkura (possibly Sephiroth/Cloud/Zack or maybe even a love triangle, ew). I also really wanna try writing out Strifesodos, but I’m leaning towards Banorashipping as a side ship in this cuz its cute and passionate.

A S T R O N G side ship in this is going to be Aerti (featuring Turk!Tifa and Full Cetra!Aerith), along with minor ships like Scarlet x Elena, Tseng x Rufus, and honestly who the fuck knows anymore, lol. This will most likely be the longest story on the list, I’m planning for at least ten+ chapters.

Also, not shaming it in any way, but just FYI for the people who are interested, there will be no pregnancy in this story. It’s just not my thing. <3

Again, all of these AU’s are subject to change, but I’d love to bounce ideas back and forth and see what certain shippers would like to see in the fandom. I’m really receptive to discussing fics in general, even if its an idea about one of your own stories you wanna talk about. :)

If you actually read all of that, THANK YOU KINDLY! <33333

[bromfieldhall]

“Redwood” - A Mentalist Fanfiction

TIMELINE: Set some time after season five episode, ‘Red Sails in the Sunset’. Goes AU from there.

SYNOPISIS: Jane and Lisbon are forced into a deadly game when they try and catch a new serial killer.

PAIRING: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon - Jisbon

Previous Chapters 1, 2, 3

CHAPTER 4

"Get out. Nice and slow," said a deep male voice from behind Jane.

The consultant felt the pressure on the back of his head ease somewhat and he tentatively started to turn. He thought briefly of making a grab for Lisbon's gun in the glove compartment but then rejected it almost immediately; he knew he wouldn't be able to get it quick enough. Taking measured movements, he slowly manoeuvred himself out of the vehicle then held up his hands as he came face to face with a young man holding a rifle pointed squarely at his chest.

He swallowed hard. He wasn't a firearms expert but even he could hazard a guess that the six men who had been murdered over the past few months probably died at the hands of someone using a gun exactly like that.

His gaze went to the man who was a good four inches taller than him with black, cropped hair, dark brown eyes and at least a day's growth of stubble. He wore a tight fitting, dark blue t-shirt and his jeans were faded and worn, although the consultant gauged they were intentionally so and not from age. Hiking boots completed the look and, along with the rest of the man's attire, they didn't look cheap either.

"What do you want?" Jane asked, sounding calm.

"Shut up and empty your pockets," the man ordered.

Trepidation filling his entire being, Jane eyed the long barrel of the gun as he slowly did as he was told. Dipping his hands into his jacket pockets, he pulled out his phone from one and a pen from the other then held them up.

"Drop them."

Jane felt a momentary pang of relief that the man hadn't also demanded that he retrieve things from his inside pocket. He could feel his notebook burning a significant a hole there but despite his fear, he wouldn't have been about to give that up quite so willingly. He opened his hands and let the items he held fall to the ground. The man then gestured with the gun towards the car.

"Go get your girlfriend out."

The blond walked cautiously around the back of the vehicle, conscious the whole time of the man following slowly, his only diversion to stoop to pick up the discarded phone. Jane opened the driver's door then, after glancing at the man again, he reached forward across Lisbon into the car. His action caused her jacket to fall open slightly and his gaze was immediately drawn to the badge resting on her hip. He had to get rid of it. He couldn't let the gunman know they were cops. He felt sure that their lives would be over there and then if he found out.

Under the guise of unclipping her seatbelt, he surreptitiously removed her badge then dropped it down the gap between the seat and the centre console. It was so fluid and skilful a movement that the man behind was none the wiser…or so he thought. He stilled and looked up as the dark haired man came to his side.

"She got a phone too?" he asked.

Jane almost smiled in relief. He nodded then realised he was going to have to dig around in Lisbon's front jeans pocket to retrieve the item. He hesitated a moment then remembered that the man had assumed they were a couple. It would look odd if he was reluctant to touch her with any familiarity and he knew he should being doing what he could to encourage the man's misapprehension. It would put the ball firmly in their court once Lisbon was awake. The gunman wouldn't expect a petite looking female such as her to be any kind of threat.

Jane glanced at her face then, sending up a silent prayer that she didn't wake up in the middle of what he was doing, he eased his fingers into her pocket. He was glad that he felt the phone straight away and pulled it out quickly. Shifting slightly, he held it out to the gunman who snatched it from his grasp.

The consultant wasn't sure what the man was going to do with the phones but while they were still on, at least the team would be able to get a fix on them once they realised they were missing.

The blond turned back to the car then carefully placed his arms under Lisbon's limp body and gingerly lifted her off the seat and out of the car. He adjusted her weight more comfortably in his arms then tensed as he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. Casting a quick look in the gunman's direction, he was surprised and a little unsettled to find that the young man seemed unperturbed at the thought that he might be caught.

Seconds later a silver van pulled up a few feet away and two men got out then walked towards them. One was older, in his forties with fair hair, wearing a green check shirt and jeans and sporting a grim expression. The younger man was also fair and had more than a passing resemblance to the older man for Jane to deduce that he was his son. He was grinning widely and carrying a rifle.

The older man took in the scene before him and shook his head. He looked at the consultant then dropped his eyes to Lisbon, his blue gaze slowly sliding over her inert body in such a way that the blond subconsciously tightened his grip and drew her in closer towards him.

"Wade, put them in the van," the fair-haired man suddenly ordered sharply.

The youth quickly moved behind Jane and nudged him, none to gently, on the back with his gun.

"Move."

The blond walked slowly to the vehicle carrying his precious bundle. He was beginning to feel more than a little alarmed at the turn of events but damped it down as best he could. He couldn't start panicking just yet, even though the odds were stacked drastically against them now. Together he and Lisbon could've probably taken the one man by surprise, but three of them? With weapons? Not to mention that the men clearly hadn't bothered to hide their faces nor concerned themselves that he could hear their names. That obviously meant only one possible outcome for Lisbon and himself.

And if that wasn't bad enough, he really hadn't liked the way the father had practically ogled Lisbon's body. Jane knew he wasn't in any position to do much by way of protecting her when these men had guns. That didn't mean he wouldn't die trying though.

The son opened the back doors of the van and motioned for the consultant to get inside. The blond gently laid Lisbon down on the cold, metal floor then clambered in beside her. He sat down with his back against the side of the van and his legs stretched out in front of him then leaned over to Lisbon. Lifting her head, he shuffled closer until it rested on his lap and then he draped his arm over her waist. He looked down at her still features and his other hand found its way to her hair, taking up a slow stroking motion.

Outside, the older man looked at the black-haired youth in disgust.

"I thought I specifically told you not to go after anyone else yet, Zack. The Feds are in Arcata swarming all over this thing. Do you want to get us caught?" he demanded angrily.

"How are they going to catch us? They don't even know what's going on," Zack retorted scathingly. He shook his head then suddenly grinned maliciously. "Just think of doing this right under their noses, Ben. A couple at that. It's the ultimate game."

"It's the ultimate stupidity," Ben countered wrathfully. He paused and looked at the damaged SUV then gestured towards it with a sneer. "What have I told you about shooting out a tyre on a bend for Christ's sake? Look at the damage to this thing. What the hell am I supposed to do with it now, huh?" He shook his head. "Just hide it until I can come back and get it later. And give me their phones," he added as an afterthought, holding out his hand.

Zack stared at the older man defiantly for a few seconds then let out a heavy sigh and pulled the mobiles out of his pocket and reluctantly handed them over. Ben spun around and nodded at Wade to help Zack out as he took his son's place at the back of the van.

Jane looked up as the first door slammed shut swiftly followed by the second, leaving them in semi darkness despite the bright light of the day that spilled in from the windscreen.

He'd heard every word the men had said to each other and was busy trying to piece together what the hell was going on. Obviously, these men were behind the killings and they were organised. As for a motive…

A sudden soft groan broke into his thoughts and he immediately focussed his attention on Lisbon as she slowly came back to consciousness. The noise from the doors must have woken her finally.

"Hey," he whispered with a soft smile as her eyes fluttered open. "How are you feeling?"

Lisbon blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. Her eyes darted around the gloom of the van interior until eventually resting on Jane's face and she frowned. She could feel his arm lying just below her chest, his hand curving under her body. His other hand was in her hair, his fingers gently massaging her scalp as he stared down at her with such a tender expression that made her heart thud. She was feeling pretty good, actually. Except, the situation was so surreal that she wondered briefly if she'd been drinking. Her fuzzy head certainly felt like she had. Then it all came back to her in a rush. The car. The tree…

"Where are we?" she asked as sat up far too quickly. Her head swam at the movement but she shut her eyes and rode it out until the world righted itself once more.

"Take it easy, you've had a nasty knock to your head," he soothed, automatically reaching out and placing his hand on the small of her back. "Do you remember the tyre blowing out?"

"Yeah. I guess we hit that tree, right?" she replied, looking at him for confirmation.

He nodded then leaned in closer to her and said in an low, urgent voice, "Listen, we don't have much time. It wasn't an accident, Lisbon, the tyre was shot out. There are three men outside, two of them have rifles and I'm certain these are the people that killed Miller and the others."

"What?" she exclaimed in shock.

"I've hidden your badge in the SUV. They mustn't know we're anything to do with the police. It's the only thing keeping us alive at the moment," he continued, ignoring her surprise. "They think we're just a normal couple, so try not to be so, so…Lisbony."

"Excuse me?" she queried, looking affronted before demanding to know in a loud whisper, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know, angry, aggressive, that hard cop exterior thing you do," he explained in a hushed tone. "Try and be a bit more…"

"Pathetic, like you?" she cut in angrily.

"No; I was going to say be a bit more, Teresa," he corrected tersely. "The sensitive, kind-hearted woman behind that façade that I used to be privileged to witness on the odd occasion. I know it's a tall order in my company lately, but dig deep, I'm sure you'll find her in there somewhere."

Lisbon drew in a sharp breath at his comments and felt a dart of compunction shoot through her system. She'd thought he'd been completely unfazed by her thoughtless gibe, but she was obviously wrong considering the way his expression had turned from intense to impassive in a matter of seconds. She knew that look. She'd hurt him.

She shifted uncomfortably under his carefully crafted emotionless gaze only to become aware that he still had his arm about her waist and his hand on her back. She immediately tensed, her gaze locking with his intently as she fleetingly wondered how she'd not noticed his close proximity before. Something warm suddenly flickered in his eyes, cracking through the cool mask and his features softened a little as she felt his arm tighten around her, causing her heart to give a sudden leap. His fingers pressed firmly into her back for a second and then, as quick as it had begun, the moment was over as he suddenly released her and looked away.

Lisbon didn't have a clue what had just happened and before she had time to even try and work it out the doors to the van suddenly opened. The harsh light of the sun, broke their bubble of semi darkness for a moment, causing them to squint and turn their heads away as Ben climbed in then shut the doors behind him with a clang. The two young men then got in the front and Wade started up the vehicle before pulling smoothly off down the road.

Ben sat down and placed the rifle that he'd brought in with him across his lap, muzzle pointing at them, and rested his hand lightly by the trigger. Once settled, he looked at first Jane and then Lisbon.

"You're awake then," he observed with a predatory smile emerging on his face. "Shame. I was hoping I might have to find some way to…arouse you."

The double meaning wasn't lost on Lisbon as his gaze raked insolently over her form, making her skin crawl. Her hand automatically clenched into a fist as she recognised the overtly sexual overtures in the way he ran his tongue along his bottom lip as his eyes stayed riveted on her chest.

A sudden warmth enveloped her fist and she glanced down to find Jane's hand wrapped firmly around hers. She quickly looked up at him and he stared back at her with a slight frown, minutely shaking his head in warning. She took a deep breath and forced herself to unclench her fist. As soon and her hand opened, Jane laced his fingers through hers and held on tight. She drew some comfort from his hold and offered him a small smile of acknowledgement.

"Where are you taking us?" asked Jane, attempting to keep the older man's attention on himself. "If this is a kidnapping, you've got the wrong people, I assure you we don't have any money."

Ben snorted and gave Jane an assessing look. "Your suit and that SUV tell a different story," he retorted dryly. Off the consultant's shrug, he glanced at Lisbon and added, "We're not interested in your money anyway. We have something else planned for you two."

"Oh? What's that?" the blond queried mildly.

"You'll find out soon enough," the fair-haired man replied, his gaze moving back to Jane. "Now, shut up."

The consultant did as he was told and the tension stretched out thinly within the tight confines of the van as it sped along the road. It wasn't long before they turned off onto a winding forest trail that they followed for a good twenty minutes until Wade unexpectedly executed a sharp left turn. Caught unawares, Lisbon was jostled into Jane and he put his free hand to her back to steady her as the van bumped along an uneven track heading deep into the forest.

He could feel the apprehension emanating from her tiny frame and wished he could do something to alleviate it but he feared he'd only transfer some of his own anxiety over what fate might be awaiting them.

They eventually arrived at a small clearing that had a moderate sized log cabin situated in the middle. From inside the van they could hear the muffled sounds of dogs barking and whining, obviously pleased and excited that their owners were back. The three men got out then Ben gestured for Lisbon and Jane to do the same before ushering the couple into the cabin at the point of his gun.

"Tie them up and put them out back," the older man directed as he pulled the pair's phones from his pocket and dropped them carelessly onto a nearby table.

Wade obediently went into another room then came back a few moments later carrying some rope. He tied their hands behind then backs then pushed Jane towards what appeared to be a sparse, but still functional, kitchen. Lisbon followed then Zack moved past them and opened a door off to the right. He shoved them inside then shut the door behind them and locked it.

He and Wade sauntered back into the lounge area where Ben was on his cell. He finished his call then turned to them and let out a heavy sigh.

"Well, your father's not happy about this and neither am I," he began, pinning Zack with a baleful glare. "But since it's already done, he doesn't want to waste the opportunity so we have to keep them hidden here until the Fed's have gone."

"I knew it'd be OK," Zack gloated with a grin.

"It's not OK, boy," Ben ground out furiously. "You might be my nephew but I swear to God, the next time you disobey me, I'm going to shoot you myself. Do you understand?"

Zack gave his uncle a resentful look but remained silent and nodded.

"Good. Wade, you come and help me clean out that SUV," he said, turning to his son.

"Sure, Dad," he replied, immediately going to the door and heading outside.

Ben gave his nephew one last menacing stare then followed his son out.

Zack watched until they drove away then turned and strode purposefully towards the kitchen. He'd seen the way his uncle had looked at the woman they held captive; heard what he'd said to her. He knew what his older relative had a mind to do but he was damned sure he was going to do it to her first. Anything to upset the old bastard after the way he'd just spoken to him.

No one treated Zack Newland that way.

END CHAPTER 4

[bromfieldhall]

“Redwood” - A Mentalist Fanfiction

TIMELINE: Set some time after season five episode, ‘Red Sails in the Sunset’. Goes AU from there.

SYNOPISIS: Jane and Lisbon are forced into a deadly game when they try and catch a new serial killer.

PAIRING: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon - Jisbon

Previous Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

CHAPTER 6

"Stop wasting shots," Ben growled at Zack as they headed after Lisbon and Jane. "Take your time. They're easy to track, crashing through all the undergrowth like that."

"I'm not wasting them," his nephew refuted defiantly before suddenly smiling nastily. "I'm making them panic. Keeping them running and wearing them out. When they're exhausted, I'll shoot them. The guy first, a shot to leg, then the arm, maybe the shoulder, let him bleed out slow. Once he's gone I can have some fun with the woman, then I'll kill her too. Bullet to the brain; it'll blow her head clean off."

His uncle saw the way Zack seemed to get off on his thoughts. It hadn't been the first time he'd noticed that particular trait in his nephew and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.

"You're a sadistic son of a bitch," Ben snorted in disgust. "Been saying it for years."

"I'm my father's son," he retorted, bitterly.

"There's no denying that," Ben concurred. He looked over at his own son and beckoned him over. "I want you to go back and fetch the dogs. They're going in deeper and I think we'll need them to flush them out."

"Dad," Wade whined, disappointed at being sent away when it was just starting to get interesting.

"Do as you're told. No arguments and be quick," he ordered harshly. "We'll steer the Fed's towards the creek and meet you there."

The youth stared at his father for a few seconds but couldn't find the courage to disobey. With a shake of his head, he turned and trotted off back in the direction of the cabin.

"You should think about getting him a leash too," Zack commented sarcastically.

"I'm better off getting you a muzzle," Ben retorted irately. "Now shut up."

Zack smiled. He didn't care what the old man said anymore, he'd had enough. Once they'd killed the Fed's he was going to make sure his uncle had a little accident of his own too.

xxTheMentalistxx

Lisbon and Jane sank down behind one of the giant redwood trees and each caught their breath.

"We can't keep on running like this," said Lisbon between pants as she laid the rifle across her lap. "We need to find some water soon."

Jane merely grunted in reply. His legs burned almost as much as his lungs and he didn't think he could utter more than two words together at that particular moment in time.

They sat next to each other in silence for a few moments until their breathing evened out then Lisbon turned her head to look at him. His eyes were closed and his head rested back against the trunk, face flushed from exertion. Sweat beaded on his brow and she watched a drop wend its way down the side of face, the rivulet subtly changing direction every time it hit a slight imperfection in his skin. She lifted her hand and reached out to wipe it away with her thumb but caught herself just in time. Letting her arm drop to her side she couldn't quell the unwelcome feeling of guilt that rose within her. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her insisting that he come along. If anything happened to him now it'd be all her fault.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, still staring at him.

He opened his eyes at her softly spoken apology and turned his head to gaze back at her. Confusion and no small amount of surprise swirled in his cerulean depths as he noted the troubled expression on her face.

"What for?"

"For forcing you to come on this case with me," she confessed, quietly.

He took in her glowing cheeks and bright eyes that the adrenaline and exercise had produced. Her tousled hair was slightly damp at the ends making it curl and even with the bruising coming out nicely on her forehead he still thought she was really quite beautiful. The merest hint of a smile touched his lips as he wondered what she'd think if he told her that he really wouldn't want to be anywhere else but by her side...and not just for then, but always.

He imagined such a declaration would go down like a lead balloon. Those emotions were best left until after they'd dealt with Red John; if they managed to eventually catch the serial killer, obviously. Not to mention if he were even still alive when it was finally all over.

So many obstacles, but he liked to think that one day, maybe, there might be a future for them both together. But first they had to get out of this mess.

"Meh, no need to apologise to me, Lisbon. You can't force me to do anything I don't want to do, you should know that by now," he replied with a wry smile.

The brunette's eyebrows rose at his flippant words but a part of her was glad that he was choosing to be glib. It was a far more familiar territory than the one she'd just strayed into and so taking his lead, she smiled back at him sweetly.

"I think your ego misunderstood me, Jane," she retorted mockingly. "I meant I'm sorry I forced you to come because if I hadn't Cho would be with me right now and I'd have a better chance of getting out of this crap alive."

"Ouch," he replied with a wince. "A dagger right into the heart of my virility. Painful."

"I'll think you'll survive," she retorted with a snort.

Jane silently agreed with her. They both knew he wasn't hero material so it was pointless even denying it. Lisbon stirred beside him and he looked over just as she stood up and held the rifle at the ready.

"You hear something?" he asked softly, automatically tensing and straining to listen for any signs of their hunters being nearby.

"No," she replied as she looked back from where they'd just come. "But they can't be far behind us. We should get going."

The consultant stood up, ignoring the heaviness of his legs. Lisbon was right; they couldn't keep on running. He, in particular, just wasn't in good enough shape. Looking around cautiously, he saw the trail of broken and trampled ferns they'd left in their panicked wake. They were making it too easy for the men chasing them to follow. They needed to do something else. A little misdirection.

"We need to backtrack," he said, turning to Lisbon with a sudden smile.

She stared at him blankly for a moment.

"Backtrack?" she queried dubiously. "But I thought you said it was better for us to head deeper into the forest?"

"I've changed my mind," he told her, feeling a surge of renewed vigour pump through his veins. "Follow me."

Lisbon stayed put for a moment then let out a sigh and headed after him as he began tramping through the foliage.

xxTheMentalistxx

"I don't like it," stated Cho as he pocketed his phone and turned to Rigsby and Van Pelt. "Lisbon doesn't go this long without checking in, especially in the middle of a case. Something's up." Rigsby grinned suggestively and opened his mouth to speak but Cho quickly cut him dead with a curt, "Don't say it."

Rigsby immediately sobered and looked down, a little put out by his friends tone.

"I can check for the GPS on their phones," Grace offered, giving her ex love a slight frown at his almost ill-placed levity.

"Sounds good," Cho concurred. "They were checking out Old State Highway so let's head there while you're doing that. It might help us get a quicker fix on their location," he continued before glancing at Rigsby and adding, "Probably best if Van Pelt rides up front with me."

Rigsby scowled slightly then jerked open the rear door of the SUV and climbed in slamming it hard behind him. Feeling like a scolded child, he folded his arms and sulkily stared out of the window.

Cho and Van Pelt both got into the vehicle then the redhead opened her ever present laptop and waited for it to power up while she fastened her safety belt. Cho started the car and they set off towards the old highway.

xxTheMentalistxx

Jane moved quickly, treading down the foliage as he made a trail towards a nearby fallen tree. Once there he came to a stop and looked at his handiwork, seemingly pleased.

"Give me your jacket," he commanded, holding out his hand.

"My jacket?" repeated Lisbon dubiously. "No."

"Come on, I'll buy you a new one," the consultant urged, waggling his fingers for the item of clothing.

"Why do you want it?" the brunette asked curtly, even though her hands were already at the lapels and beginning to slip it off her shoulders.

"I want to make them think we're hiding here," he replied, pointing to the tree as he grabbed the jacket she reluctantly held out.

"Why can't you leave yours?" she queried with slight chagrin. That was her favourite.

"First of all this is a quality suit," the blond announced as he gestured to himself, causing her jaw to set angrily at his implication that hers wasn't. "And second of all, I've still got my notebook in my pocket and if I leave my jacket here, I won't have anywhere else to carry it."

Lisbon watched him arrange her clothing in such a way that anyone approaching would notice some of the black fabric poking out from the side of the trunk as though they hadn't hidden quite well enough.

"There, that should do it," he said coming around the front to see how it looked. "Yes. Perfect."

"Now what do we do?" the agent asked, quickly scanning the area before looking back at him.

"Well, you either climb a tree and pick them off one by one," he suggested with a smile. "Or we could take a very careful walk back the way we came. Make sure we don't leave such an obvious trail for them to track."

Lisbon eyed a nearby tree without enthusiasm then nodded at him. "Let's go for the second option," she decided.

Jane grinned and held out his hand for her to take. She looked at it for a moment then deliberately brushed passed him as she stalked away. Allowing her hand to be grabbed while running scared was one thing, to offer it willingly; that meant something else entirely and she wasn't going there today.

The consultant's expression dropped a little at her snub but Lisbon didn't notice as she cautiously navigated her way through the thick undergrowth, trying not to snap too many fern fronds along the way.

She could sense Jane close behind her as she moved stealthily, cringing slightly at every little snap of a twig and crunching of leaves underneath her feet. Her only comfort was that when they encountered the men coming in the opposite direction as they undoubtedly would at some point, they'd be making the same amount of noise. More even, as they probably wouldn't be so careful.

They'd been walking only a few minutes when Lisbon suddenly heard something up ahead and to the left of them. She halted and put her hand up to signal Jane to do the same. A bright glint in the distance caught her eye and she quickly spun around then launched herself at an unsuspecting Jane. He let out an 'oof' as she grabbed him around the waist and they ended up in a tangle of limbs on the forest floor with Lisbon laying fully on top of her consultant.

The fall knocked the rifle from her grip and it skidded away, coming to a stop under a nearby large fern. She left it where it was and clamped a hand over Jane's mouth to prevent him from saying anything as she urgently whispered, "Hush."

The consultant's eyes widened and he nodded slightly in acknowledgment so she slowly removed her hand. They could hear the men approaching and Jane automatically placed his arms around her slim form, his hands splaying across her back as if it would somehow help them become more invisible.

She turned her head and laid it on his shoulder, trying to control the slight shaking in her limbs that was threatening to overwhelm her. They were only relying on the foliage for their protection, the tall fronds arching over them and aiding their concealment. Feeling Lisbon's heart hammering against his chest and the way she shook in his arms, Jane tightened his grip on her, hoping to convey some reassurance.

The brunette closed her eyes and pressed herself down onto him even further, trying to obtain that tiny inch of space that might be the difference between being discovered or not.

They could hear the men talking quietly to each other, although not loud enough to hear exactly what they were saying. The tone of their voices betrayed their displeasure; whether at the situation or at each other was hard to determine. They walked swiftly on by and as the sounds of their footsteps faded, Jane let out a shuddering breath that he hadn't realised he was holding.

"I think they're gone," he whispered into her ear; although he only loosened his hold enough that his hands dropped lower to span her waist.

Lisbon lay still a moment longer, trying to get her rigid form to relax as her shakes subsided. However, now that the imminent danger had passed, she found herself tensing for a whole different reason as she became very aware of her consultant's warm, firm body lying beneath hers. Despite the fearful situation of only a moment ago, her own body tingled from top to toe as it revelled in the heady feeling of lying so intimately against him. It gave her pause to wonder what sort of person she was that she could glean a perverse kind of pleasure in such dire a circumstance but then again, adrenaline was a powerful force. It made people feel and do the craziest of things at times.

She lifted her head and opened her eyes to look down at him. They were so close their breaths mingled as they gazed at each other intently. She only had to move a few, scant centimetres to close the gap between them and then she'd finally know what it felt like to have his lips on hers. She noticed his eyes darken a shade and his lips part slightly as the tension stretched out until it practically crackled between them. She felt his fingers dig into her waist, her skin burning beneath his touch even though her top still served as a barrier for any real contact. Her breathing deepened. It was what she wanted, more than anything, she suddenly realised; but did she have the guts to actually do it?

It would change things between them irrevocably. She wouldn't be able to pass it off as a mere spur of the moment thing. They both knew it would be a conscious decision on her part if she chose finally to cross that line.

The moment dragged on and just when Jane was about to broach that forbidden barrier himself a distant shot rang out followed by the panicked screeching of several birds, breaking the spell.

With such a strident reminder of their current situation ringing in her ears, Lisbon placed her hands either side of Jane's shoulders then hurriedly pushed herself up and scrambled off of him.

Jane let her go and swallowed hard as he watched her brush down her jeans. From where he lay, he could see the slight betraying tremor of her hands as they struggled to do even such a menial task. He slowly sat up and brought all his mental abilities into play as he tried to calm his own unruly body down. He could see her face was extremely flushed and judging by the way she had still yet to meet his gaze he knew she couldn't have been unaware of how much being that close to her had affected him.

He stood up as she bent down to retrieve the rifle and after a cursory glance in her direction he looked away. Seeing her like that really wasn't going to help his condition in any way he decided as his gazed skywards in the vain hope that if there were a God he'd throw some divine intervention his way and help them both through this awkward moment.

Lisbon chanced flicking Jane a glance as she came back with the gun and seeing he was ready she immediately continued on the way they were going before they'd seen the men. The consultant took her lead and followed silently behind, shedding his jacket to brush off the back that was covered in leaves and dirt.

"There were only two of them. We'd best be careful in case the third man is around here somewhere," he cautioned in a low voice as he donned his jacket again.

A nod of the head was the only response he received and he damped down a wave of frustration. It was becoming more and more obvious to him now that despite his own dogged reticence and many reasons why not to, they were just going to have to stop skirting around the issue of their feelings for each other and at the very least talk about it. True, he could pretend that it was down to the rush of being in danger, but he knew he'd be lying to himself and he was certain that Lisbon had realised it too. She wasn't stupid and if nothing else, it would stop the silent treatment he received every time she got a little too close to revealing herself.

He really was finding it quite tiresome.

xxTheMentalistxx

Zack angrily picked up the offending black jacket then tossed it carelessly away as he scanned the surrounding area.

"Where the hell are they?" he ground out irately.

Ben slowly turned around looking for the telltale sign of which direction Jane and Lisbon had headed. He had far more years experience at hunting than Zack and knew exactly what he was searching for…and then he spotted it. A broken fern frond at the farthest end of the downed tree trunk. Nondescript in its own way but Ben hurried over to it to check it out. It was a fresh break and although there was always a chance that it could have been done by an animal, it was slim given the height and angle off the ground. Besides, his gut told him he was right. The one time he'd hadn't listened to it was when his brother had told him that Zack wasn't a psychopath, he was just in need of some discipline. How that had come back to bite him in the ass.

"I've found something," he said to Zack. "You go on to the creek and meet up with Wade. The dogs will lead you back to me."

"No way," his nephew replied. "If you're going after them, I'm coming with you."

"I haven't got time to argue, boy," Ben retorted angrily. "If they get away then we're all going down, do you understand? Now go get Wade and bring those dogs back. I'm sick and tired of your games."

Zack's jaw clenched as he stared at his uncle in disdain. Without warning he levelled his rifle at the older man but Ben was just as quick. They eyed each other down the barrels of their guns but Zack's overwhelming desire to stay alive proved too much and he lowered his gun with harsh laugh.

"You'd better watch your back, old man," he cautioned with a sneer before turning a walking away.

Ben kept his rifle trained on his nephew until he was sure he'd gone then let out a sigh of relief as he relaxed his aim. He'd won this round but he knew there would soon come a time where he was going to have to do something about Zack once and for all.

With one last look in the direction his nephew had gone, Ben turned around and concentrated on finding Lisbon and Jane.

xxTheMentalistxx

Van Pelt tutted in annoyance as the GPS tracker failed yet again.

"I can't get a lock on their phones," she announced worriedly.

"What about the car?" Cho questioned as he finally pulled onto Old State Highway.

"I'll give it a try," she said, tapping away at the keyboard. There were a couple of minutes of tense silence then she stated urgently, "Got it. About five kilometres north of here."

The stoic agent nodded in response and pressed harder on the gas pedal. How was it that they could get a fix on their car but not their phones?

They passed a lagoon and continued on until Cho had to slow for a tight left hand corner.

"It should be somewhere here," the red head declared, looking avidly out of the windscreen.

He manoeuvred the car smoothly around the bend only to slam on the brakes when Rigsby let out a sudden cry from the backseat.

"Stop! I think I saw something in the trees back there," he exclaimed as he jabbed his finger on his window by way of pointing the direction.

Cho quickly performed a U-turn and drove back to the bend where he pulled off the road so as not to inconvenience any other driver that might by chance happen along the little used road.

Van Pelt propped the laptop onto the top of the dashboard then got out with the men to have a look around. Rigsby jogged forward into the forest to where he thought he'd caught a glimpse of a car parked between two trees.

"It's here," he called grimly as he spied Lisbon's damaged SUV and went over to it. "Looks like they had an accident. Drivers side took the hit."

The other two agents joined him and together they checked over the vehicle inside and out. They soon found that the guns were gone and that there was a small smear of blood on the steering wheel.

"Looks like Lisbon was hurt," Cho commented impassively. "Not too bad though."

"No guns so I guess they're armed at least," said Van Pelt trying to be optimistic.

"Armed against what though?" Rigsby asked with a puzzled look. "I mean, why didn't they just call us? And why is the car pushed all the way back here, away from the road?"

"Because something else happened here," Cho replied, looking around at the forest as though it would somehow magically reveal the events that had unfolded there. "Whatever it is, they're in trouble and we need to find them, quick."

"I'll see if I can get a fix on their phones again," Van Pelt immediately offered before heading back to their car.

"I'll call local PD and get them to come and tow the car and get forensics on it," Rigsby declared, pulling out his phone.

"Good. I'll call Sheriff Newland and let them know they're missing; see if we can set up a search," said Cho as he too got out his phone.

As he waited for his call to be answered, Cho glanced over at the battered SUV again and tried to quell the uneasiness that had settled in his stomach. Something was off about the whole accident thing. Lisbon didn't have accidents. Ever.

Which begged the questions; what the hell really happened here? And where the heck were they now?

He just hoped he found out the answers before it was too late.

END CHAPTER 6