#like they’d never admit it because Leo would get a swelled head

[dandylovesturtles]

“Donnie records everything”

broke: Donnie listening to what happened in the prison dimension

woke: Donnie showing Raph Leo’s big damn hero speech since he wasn’t there the first time

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Thirteen

Fitting that this is chapter thirteen. It was destined to be unlucky. And it was also the hardest one to write by far. Thanks for being so patient with me. One last cliffhanger, yes? For old time’s sake.

@lumosinlove your characters continue to live in my head rent-free, so thank you!

@donttouchmycarrots is my dude, my pal, my babe, and the best proofreader ever

Special thanks to @wonder-womans-ex for providing what just might be my favorite line in this chapter

Clandestine Masterlist

CW: violence, gun violence, nightmares, anxiety, mentions of food, injuries

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Logan woke up to Finn crying.

He was admittedly good at being quiet about it – he muffled any noise into his pillow, body turned towards the wall and curled up tight. It was the shaking that gave him away. Logan wasn’t sure what was going on at first, but his heart just about shattered when he realized. He rolled over to face Finn, pulling him gently into his arms and holding him close. His heart lurched as the redhead shuddered and buried his face in Logan’s chest, arms wrapping around him tightly as he sniffled. Logan screwed his eyes shut and breathed, nice and slow in an attempt to get Finn to match him. He wasn’t sure what was upsetting his partner, but he wanted nothing more than to fix it, to help however he could. Finn leaned further into him and stayed there for what felt like an eternity before he calmed down, breaths slowing and tears drying.

Logan could feel every swell of muscle, every gentle dip between his ribs, the eyelashes that were still wet and clumped together, the way his skin felt all clammy. He wished he could pull him even closer, hold him even tighter, even though there was physically no distance between them. Maybe Finn could find comfort in the confines of his arms, the way Logan had found safety in Finn’s.

“Want to talk about it?” he finally whispered, making Finn tense up again. He peered over Logan’s shoulder to look at their sleeping partner, then looked back down at Logan.

Sometimes Finn just took his breath away. Sure, his eyes were glassy and his nose was red from crying but he was still so beautiful, with muted light filtering through the curtains turning messy auburn hair into shiny copper, seeming to glitter in the sunlight. Big, brown doe eyes looking so incredibly soft as he stared down at Logan. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being looked at like that. Like he was something to be cherished, something to be adored.

Logan felt his breath hitch.

“Hallway?” Finn asked, glancing back at Leo. “Don’t want to wake him up.”

Logan smiled. He loved learning how all three of them showed love and how it varied depending on which partner they were interacting with. Finn was more teasing with Logan, always throwing jabs and chasing them with happy grins and lots of kisses. With Leo he – well, he still teased mercilessly, but it was softer around the edges. The kind of affection that made him get all squinty-eyed because he was smiling so much and too-tight hugs because he couldn’t possibly hold back. Leo didn’t act that different when it came down to it, but he picked up quickly on what the two of them liked – intertwining his fingers with Finn’s as often as he could, running his hand through Logan’s hair time and time again. The constant motion of his hands was directed at the two of them instead of the lock in his pocket more often than not, a new soothing habit forming quickly. It was adorable. Logan wasn’t really sure how he was different, but he knew he was softer with the two of them more than he’d been with anyone else. He could feel himself turning into a sappy romantic and he wanted to hate it, but he really couldn’t.

Finn scrambled up reluctantly and Logan followed him across the room, nervous and itching to pull Finn back into his arms. He reached for Finn as soon as the door closed completely. “Bad dream?” His stomach dropped when Finn just nodded, biting down on his lip hard as his eyes welled up with tears again.

“I don’t want to go back there.” Finn admitted, voice a soft whisper in the silence of the hallway. Logan sighed and pressed closer, standing on his tiptoes just a little to loop his arms around Finn’s neck. Logan didn’t want to go back, either, but it was different for Finn. He’d been there for longer, after all, and Logan still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened during that time. Finn refused to talk about it, and Logan was too afraid to ask, as selfish as that made him feel. To top it all off, Logan had no idea how to help. Usually bad dreams were only loosely based on reality – but Logan had a feeling these were a little too real. They’d lived it, after all. To wake up from a nightmare and realize it was basically reality…

How could you comfort someone who’s bad dreams were all true?

“I know,” he said simply, lacking the words for anything else and running his fingers through Finn’s messy bedhead soothingly.

“We won’t be there for too long.” Finn said after a while. He seemed to be trying to comfort Logan with the words, even though he was the one who had been crying about it earlier. Logan ached for the redhead. He had such a big heart, always putting others before himself even if he was in a bad place himself. Logan needed to pay more attention, to pinpoint that evasion tactic and not let him get away with it. Everyone needed solace, even the ones who primarily did the comforting.

Finn’s eyes had closed sometime earlier, his head tilted to lean into Logan’s hand, his breath tickling the inside of Logan’s wrist. Logan wiped away a stray tear tenderly and sighed. Finn didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Logan wasn’t going to force him to talk, but he was worried about what would happen if he didn’t talk about it with someone. Sometimes it was nice to talk to someone with an outside perspective – someone who wasn’t in the thick of it like Logan was. So Logan reluctantly let it go for now and tried the next best thing: cheering Finn up.

“And it’ll be nice to bash some heads in while we’re there.”

That earned a laugh from Finn, and Logan felt such stark relief at the sight – it left him a little breathless. It was sad that a genuine laugh from either of his partners was so rare now. Logan felt like he needed to cherish them when they happened.

How depressing was that?

“Bashing some heads in is now on the list, I guess.” Finn murmured, placing a lingering kiss to Logan’s temple, who hummed thoughtfully.

“Do you even know how to throw a punch?”

Finn was in the process of kissing Logan when he said that, which just turned into a laugh against Logan’s lips. “No, but you do.” Logan could hear the smile in his voice. “And that’s way hotter than it probably should be.”

Logan looked up at him nervously to make sure he wasn’t kidding, then relaxed at the honesty in those mischievous eyes. Even upset and stressed, Finn somehow knew what to say to soothe worries Logan hadn’t even told him about. Being in a job like his… well it was ugly. It was brutal and violent and messy and not many people would want to be involved with someone like that – someone with bloodstained hands, too many paranoid tics, and a heavy, guilty conscience.

Finn and Leo didn’t seem to mind all that much, thankfully.

The realization made Logan grin sharply and nip at Finn’s lower lip before delving into another deep, intoxicating kiss. It was too easy, getting lost when he kissed Finn. So much of their surroundings faded away until all he was aware of was the feel of slightly chapped lips against his and hands holding his hips in order to pull him closer. Finn seemed to have that effect on Logan – he always had, ever since that New Years party. He was the kind of person everyone naturally gravitated towards, pulled in without a second thought. It was part of what made him so damn good at his job.

Finn breathed in sharply before kissing him again, heady and sure of himself and making Logan weak in the knees. All five senses were overwhelmed with Finn, Finn, Finn. It thrummed along with his pulse in a steady, loud rhythm. And yet his mind still drifted back to the bedroom with Leo, the thought of joining him back in bed tugging at him just as Finn broke the kiss and pulled him back towards the door, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Sometimes I’m convinced you’re a mind reader.” Logan smiled and willingly let himself get drawn back into the quiet, sleepy warmth of the bedroom. Finn just shrugged.

“Maybe I am.”

Leo was still sound asleep, sprawled out on his back with one leg sticking out from underneath the covers and hanging off the side of the bed at what looked like a very uncomfortable angle. Logan smiled at Finn’s affectionate snort, then followed him back to bed and crawled in the middle again. He curled up on his side, facing the blond as Finn pressed against his back and tangled their legs together. Leo’s hand moved up the bed, searching for Logan’s until he found it and then seemed to drift off to sleep again with a content sigh.

It scared Logan a little, how important the two of them had become in such a short amount of time. They were slowly invading more and more space in his head until his only thoughts seemed to be about them, all the time. Maybe it should be a little worrying, but Logan couldn’t find it in himself to be too concerned – not when the thoughts made his chest feel light as air and his stomach full of butterflies.

***

It was getting close to go-time, and everyone was on edge. The energy was palpable, like an electric current flowing through the group. Shoulders were tense, words were short and clipped, a sense of focus and determination in the air.

Leo had never been part of something like this. The only missions he’d been on were with Logan and Finn and that was it. Having a big group like this, all feeling the same things and wanting the same goal, it was intoxicating. It sucked you in and made you want to be a part of it, too.

But he couldn’t. He was stuck here, on the sidelines, left to wait aimlessly until everyone returned. That meant letting them go and resigning himself to a night of restlessness and worry.

Leo hated it.

He didn’t cling to his partners like he so desperately wanted to. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let go again. He didn’t ask for empty promises of being careful, nor did he beg them to be safe. He couldn’t hold them to words they might not be able to keep. But he allowed himself to stare, just a bit. He let his eyes linger over Logan’s steady hands as he loaded his gun and methodically checked it three times, just like always. He watched Finn pull a clean shirt over his head and fiddle with the sleeves, seemingly lost in thought. Leo memorized what he could, just in case. The exact shade of Logan’s eyes, the freckle pattern across Finn’s cheeks and nose. He hated that his brain automatically jumped to worse-case scenario like that, but – well, considering the circumstances and what they’d already been through at the hands of the Snakes… could you blame him?

There was also this feeling in the pit of Leo’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if this was just the anxiety talking, but everything in that moment felt so decided, so final.

It felt like goodbye.

As if Finn knew exactly what was going on in his head, he drew Leo in for a hug and kissed his cheek, lingering for a second before leaning back to meet his eyes. They shared one of those looks – one that expressed a multitude of emotions without saying a single word. When Finn kissed him, it was deep and achingly slow. He was taking his time, wanting to make the moment last as long as he could. Leo knew the feeling. He fisted his hand in Finn’s shirt and pulled him impossibly closer, tilting his head for a better angle and softly running his tongue across the seam of his lips. A gentle rush, a quiet thrill, but still with a noticeable, tangible melancholy.

Leo could still count the number of kisses they’d shared on two hands. That wasn’t nearly enough for him. He wanted as many different types of kisses as he could think of – happy, teasing, soft, hard, tender, and everything in between. He wanted to lose count by the end of the week. He wanted to learn everything there was to know about his partners.

He just hoped they’d get that chance.

Logan pressed up against the two of them, slotting seamlessly into place. Transitioning from kissing Finn to kissing Logan was as easy as breathing – a simple turn of his head and a slight bend to accommodate for the height difference. It was the kind of kiss you were meant to remember. A whirlwind of sweet and passionate, deep and gentle, loving and regretful.

More than anything it just hurt.

Leo’s gut churned as he pulled back and looked at the two of them, lost for words. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this, after all? He didn’t think there was anything he could say to make this easier, or reassure them. Words didn’t seem like enough anymore – they just felt insincere and meaningless. Leo didn’t think he’d ever faced that problem before. Words usually came fairly easily to him, especially if something was important to him. But now they were failing him and it left him feeling even more lost, adrift in a raging sea that he had no idea how to navigate.

“Let’s do this,” Finn said finally, part resigned and part determined, before heading towards the bedroom door.

The rest seemed to happen all at once in a blinding flurry of activity. Goodbyes with the team were quick and rushed and then they were all loading up into cars, green and brown eyes meeting his every once in a while before the doors closed and the engines growled to life.

Leo watched the caravan of cars head down the driveway, then rushed across the wrap-around porch to keep them in his sights for as long as he could until they disappeared behind an outcropping of trees. He kept his eyes trained on the spot and clung to the wooden railing with a white-knuckled grip.

And that was where he would stay. If that was the last place he saw them, it would be the first place he would see them again. He didn’t care if he stood there all night until it bled into morning; he wasn’t moving an inch.

***

Sirius sat in the backseat next to Remus for the drive, which was silent and tense with rising adrenaline and battle plans running through everyone’s heads – especially Remus’. He could practically see his mind working. He’d been planning nonstop for the past two days to make sure that all the loose ends were tied up and that they were doing this the right way. Any illegal processes now could compromise the court trials that would come after putting the Snakes behind bars. Between that and coordinating between the other agencies that were helping them take down the Snakes, it was looking like a Herculean task. They could’ve pulled out the big guns and requested help from the FBI, but no one really wanted to do that. This was personal, after all – for pretty much everyone on the team. The feds could take over later, after everyone was apprehended.

Remus chewed at his lower lip, eyes trained on nothing in particular. The back of his head was highlighted in the headlights of the car behind them, illuminating in a startling contrast to the rest of the dark interior of the van. Sirius stared and stared until he just couldn’t help it. He reached over to turn Remus’ head towards him, then ran his thumb lightly over that abused lower lip until Remus let it go. Color seeped back into it, turning the pink a darker, cherry red. Again, Sirius stared. That mouth quirked into a teasing smile.

“You’re going to chew a hole in your lip if you keep that up.” He said and looked up into honey-colored eyes, slowly pulling his hand back. Remus just huffed under his breath – a short, nervous shadow of his normal laugh.

“Yeah. I could really go for some chapstick right now.”

Sirius smiled, pulling Remus towards him and kissing him gently, reverently. It still kind of blew his mind, how much things had changed in the past few months. Remus used to hate him. Well, maybe hate was a strong word, but they definitely weren’t friends. And now here they were, making out in the back of a van. Even though their mission was coming to an end and Sirius really wouldn’t have a reason to stay in Gryffindor any more, he could no longer fathom leaving. Remus played a huge part in that, of course, but Sirius also had friends now – real friends who didn’t try to use him constantly or only contacted him when they needed something. He had a home, as ridiculously cliché as that sounded. Nothing about Slytherin felt like this, and it made Sirius wonder if he’d ever actually had a place to call home before he found himself in Remus’ tiny apartment with the dying houseplant and the lumpy couch and an entire cabinet devoted solely to mugs.

The kiss turned softer until Sirius pulled back and just looked at him, an overwhelming rush of emotion in his chest. Remus wasn’t his home – one person couldn’t be all of that, Sirius knew that much – but he sure was a big part of it.

Remus licked his lips thoughtfully, tasting Sirius’ chapstick. “What flavor is that?”

“Pina colada.”

“Nice.”

That made Sirius smile again. “It’s going to be fine, Re.” Sirius reassured and tucked Remus against his side. It was an awkward squeeze in the back of a van, but neither of them cared.

“Yeah,” Remus sighed, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. “We’ll be ok.”

They both flew out of their seats a little when the van hit a pothole, smushing them closer together. Sirius pressed a kiss to his temple, soft and lingering, before speaking up again. “Do you want to talk through the plan once more?”

Sirius always found that talking through things helped calm him down. Saying the facts out loud tended to get rid of the unnecessary fears going on inside his head, plus it made him feel more prepared. And he knew Remus was the same way, from all the times he’d helped the analyst plan missions.

This earned him a soft, thankful smile and then Remus was off, talking a mile a minute about strategies and backup plans and anything else he could think of. Sirius let his voice wash over him and tried to ignore the dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

***

Leo didn’t know how long he stood there, gaze never once wavering from the treeline, when Hope joined him. She held out a mug for him, full of what looked like hot chocolate and a thick layer of whipped cream. Leo smiled faintly in thanks and took it before returning to his vigil. It was so quiet outside. No crickets like back home, no wind whistling through the trees, nothing. It set Leo on edge.

“So,” Hope mercifully interrupted the silence, “I heard you like to cook.”

Leo looked over at her, more than a little confused at the non sequitur. “Yeah. I do.”

She traced along the grain of the wooden railing, avoiding the chipping paint. “Those boys might be hungry when they get back, and that’s a whole lot of cooking to do by myself. Care to lend a hand?”

Leo snorted at the accidental pun and looked down at the hand trapped in a sling. He knew what she was doing, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. He could definitely use the distraction.

“That sounds perfect.” He said and followed her inside, only casting one glance over his shoulder at where the driveway disappeared and the woods began before he joined Hope in the warm glow of the kitchen. Lyall and Jules were there too; they had the refrigerator door thrown open and seemed to just be staring at the contents. They looked so alike, standing side by side like that. The same slightly-bowed legs and identical shades of brown hair. Lyall gave his son a mischievous look, reached for the can of whipped cream, and squirted some directly into his mouth while Jules watched on with his jaw nearly on the floor.

“I didn’t know we were allowed to do that!” he gasped and snatched the can from his dad. A few seconds later there was whipped cream in his mouth. And on his chin, cheeks, a little on his nose…

Hope sighed good-naturedly. “You’re teaching our son bad habits and making a mess.”

Lyall just bent over laughing, a snort escaping every once in a while.

Leo smiled as Jules tried to get all the whipped cream that missed his intended target with his tongue, eyes crossing in the process. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and leaned back against the kitchen counter as Lyall kept pointing to places on his face that Jules had missed. Hope shared a look with Leo and rolled her eyes in a “what can you do?” kind of gesture. It was all so lighthearted and affectionate and exactly what Leo needed in that moment.

He wondered if Hope somehow just knew these things – it was definitely possible. Mother’s intuition and all.

“So what are we making?” She asked, tying her hair up while Lyall threw an apron over his neck. Jules was still working on the whipped cream.

Leo shrugged his good shoulder. “What do you have in the pantry?”

“So much!” Jules exclaimed, deeming his face good enough and throwing the pantry door open. “We’ve got pancake mix, potato chips, poptarts, hot dog buns-”

***

The take-down mission was going about as well as expected.

Which meant that it was going well, but it was also a chaotic disaster at the same time. Fitting, right?

Agents were everywhere, it seemed, outnumbering the Snakes at least three-to-one. The Snakes were scattering, running for the exits and fighting tooth and nail to get out – whether that was with weapons they had or just their fists, they weren’t going down without a fight. But even if they made it out, they were met with another line of defense waiting for them in the form of the Durmstrang agents.

Remus really had the op planned out to the last contingency, it seemed.

Logan and Finn were headed down an unfamiliar hallway, looking for stragglers to round up and escort outside. Most Snakes had joined the main fight to get out, sequestered in the entryway. Logan was glad they were tasked with this, though. There were too many familiar faces back there – Greyback, Lestrange, Snape. Logan wasn’t sure he was quite ready for that just yet. Between that and the sound of gunshots echoing in his head… well, let’s just say it brought back bad memories. And even though it wasn’t the best utilization of his skillset, he hadn’t been separated from his partner. He’d learned from experience what a bad idea that was. When this was all over, he wasn’t letting the two of them out of his sight for at least a week.

God, he couldn’t wait for this to be over.

Movement caught his eye and his gun was instantly up and aimed at the person. Yellow eyes landed on them and Logan held his breath, every muscle tensing and adrenaline spiking.

Logan knew they had direct orders to bring the Snakes in alive, but it was much harder to think about that when he was staring Riddle down from the sights of his gun. He knew exactly where to aim – he’d seen it mapped out on Leo’s chest, memorized the angry red wound contrasting against the gentle slope of his collarbone. A shot not intended to kill, but to inflict unfathomable levels of pain – another thing Logan had branded into his memory. A shot that was intentional, designed to send a message. And Logan definitely wanted to send back a reply.

Riddle recognized them and got this smug gleam in his eyes. “Long time, no see.”

Logan’s finger twitched against the trigger.

“Trust me, we’re planning on never seeing you again.” Finn said, then sighed dramatically. “And it looks like that dream is going to become a reality, since we’ve got all the evidence we need to lock you up for – what do you think, Logan? Two life sentences?”

“I’m banking on three.”

“But it’s not really up to us, now is it?” Finn shrugged. “If it were, I think you’d be dead by now, so I guess we’ll have to wait and see what the judge says.”

Riddle still looked remarkably calm. And it was that ego, that sense of infallibility that ended up being his downfall. “All the evidence you have is circumstantial. Any decent lawyer can get those charges dismissed.”

“Sure.” Finn’s smile turned lethal, knowing he had Riddle right where he wanted him, ready to deliver the final blow and relish in the aftermath. “But I think all that detailed information on the flash drives can put you away for a long time. Why seven flash drives, by the way? Lucky number?”

Riddle’s smile faded in increments as the realization struck. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh, it’s very possible. You can thank the guy you shot for that.” Finn said darkly. They watched the gears turning in Riddle’s head, then the way his face turned from pale to a sickly green. His hand went to the inside pocket of his jacket where his flash drive used to be – where the fake one now was, switched when Riddle had pulled a bleeding, agonized Leo close to taunt Logan and Finn through his microphone.

Yeah. Karma was a real bitch sometimes.

Logan smiled, grim but glad to finally be putting this guy behind bars. “You’re coming with us.”

***

“Yo,” Pots said into a phone, a grin almost too wide on his face, “we got some stinky bastards over here. Can you come get them please and thank you?”

Remus snorted at his antics, no doubt talking to the FBI since processing criminals was in their jurisdiction now and not Gryffindor’s. He almost wished it was on speaker phone – he would’ve loved to hear their response.

Remus found Sirius waiting in the parking lot, watching all the Snakes get corralled into transport vehicles and taken to whichever prison they were being kept in until the trial. Some of their own agents were by the ambulance getting tended to, but there weren’t any serious injuries, thank god. Talker took a superficial gunshot to the thigh and Kuny’s arm got grazed by a bullet but everyone else was fine. The element of surprise and the backup by the other agencies really did wonders. That and the fact that they were all armed to the teeth and not even thinking about leaving this job unfinished. They had a pretty good reason to win this round, after all.

He couldn’t believe it was all over. This mission had taken months and lead to way too many problems, but they were finally done with it. They could finally move on. Remus was thinking of taking the next week off of work and spending it at the cabin, just him and Sirius. A much-needed vacation sounded like a dream right about now.

Sirius’ back was to him, but he heard Remus coming and didn’t flinch when long arms wrapped around him, tight and secure. He leaned back into the familiar warmth behind him and let himself be held. He’d been great in there. Remus had been a little worried about letting him come, afraid that taking down people he’d worked with for years would be too hard for him or – even worse – that his presence would be a bright red bullseye for the Snakes. Luckily, there had been so many other agents and so much chaos that most of them had only noticed Sirius and Regulus in the aftermath, when it was too late to do anything about it.

“We did it.” Remus murmured, letting go and stepping around to gauge Sirius’ reaction. The raven-haired ex-Snake smiled at him, a hint of something warring with the relief on his face.

“We did.” He finally said, eyes flitting from Remus to the action around them. He still looked a little uneasy, after everything. Remus couldn’t blame him – sometimes it took a while for the adrenaline to wear off and for reality to set in. “Doesn’t feel real just yet.”

Remus grinned wolfishly, letting the victorious feeling wash over him. “It’s real.”

“Sirius Black?” One of the other agents inquired, causing the man in question to turn around.

“Yes?”

The agent pulled out a pair of handcuffs, looking very bored of the current situation. “You’re under arrest for the crimes you committed with the Snakes organization. If you could put your hands behind your back-”

Remus stepped forward aggressively, staring the agent down. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The agent didn’t flinch. “Following orders. Even if he quit the Snakes, he’s still got to answer for what he did during his time there.”

“But he’s helping us – he’s a consultant for our agency. He’s got immunity.” Remus looked between Sirius and the agent, running a hand agitatedly through his hair at the blasé attitude of the agent.

“Take it up with my boss.”

It was all happening so fast. Remus was still reeling from the mission, his brain struggling to keep up with the new situation. The agent started to lead Sirius away when Remus shouted, “Wait!” He hurried to stand in front of Sirius, caramel eyes hard and fierce and determined with an underlying blaze to them as they met silver. He didn’t care if he was making a scene; he didn’t care who was watching. The only thing that mattered was the man standing in front of him, eyes resigned and – unsurprised.

He knew this might happen. And he hadn’t said a word about it. He came on this mission willingly, knowing this was the way it could end.

Remus would have to come back to that.

“I’m going to fix this. Ok?” Remus met his gaze firmly, letting the honesty drip from his words.

The ex-Snake nodded quickly, trustingly. The sight was a little nauseating, because what if there was nothing Remus could do? Sirius was counting on him now; he couldn’t stand the thought of letting him down, not when he was looking at Remus like that – like Remus could fix anything, when Remus knew damn well that he couldn’t. His chest seized up and he held his breath, gritting his teeth resolutely. He’d find a way. He had to.

Sirius was loaded into the back of a car, his brother already cuffed and waiting in the seat beside him – no doubt being charged for the same thing. Their faces were stony masks, tense and unreadable.

From the next car over, Riddle watched with a smile.

[peachhsocks]

Bloodlines

After a year of avoiding Camp Half-Blood (and his friends, and everyone, and everything) in the aftermath the Giant War, Percy returns. He quickly realizes that the gods never change, running from the past never works, and family is the one thing that might make all of the nonsense worth it.

read from the beginning on ao3

Chapter 4:

Percy curled up on the sand, just within reach of the biggest swells of the tide. The Sound wasn’t exactly the ocean, but it was the closest he’d been in the last year. It was nice, calming. No matter how angry he was at his father, his domain always made him feel safe. He soaked up the salty air, the sand between his toes, even let himself get wet when the water reached him.

Something poked his back and he wiggled around, reaching for Riptide, but it was just Thalia looking down at him. Her boot a few inches from his side.

She’d kicked him.

He threw sand at her.

She spluttered a little and then sat down. Whereas Percy felt like he could blend into the beach if he wanted to, exist there forever as part of the landscape, Thalia stuck out, at complete odds with their surroundings. She placed both her hands into the sand and her face contorted with disgust.

She turned that same look toward Percy. “You really are losing it. I mean, I’d heard, but I didn’t believe it...”

Percy sat up, scowling. “Gee, Thalia. Thanks.”

She laughed, so he threw another handful of sand at her.

“Ugh, stop,” she said, batting at the cloud and trying to disperse it before it hit her face.

“Well, stop saying I’m losing it.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it. You’re still in pajama pants. You haven’t put on shoes today—”

Percy wanted to protest that there was a very logical explanation for that, which was that he’d been up since 1AM, but he supposed she and Nico had been, too.

“Nico said you were sweeping glass? I didn’t ask. Then you walked out of the Big House in a panic-induced stupor and now you’re what? Laying on the beach waiting for the tide to drag you out? I don’t think I need any sort of degree to say that you’re losing it.”

Percy focused on the ocean. It was easy to slow his breathing to match the lazy waves, but it didn’t get rid of the lump in his throat.

“Is that what Annabeth’s telling people?” he whispered.

Thalia scoffed. “Of course not. Don’t be an idiot. She’s held people at knife-point just for suggesting it.” She nudged her shoulder into his. “And by people, I mean me. Like, twenty minutes ago. I thought she was going to stab me through the trachea.”

The thought of Annabeth defending his honor made him blush. He almost wished he’d stuck around to see it.

“She’s worried about you,” Thalia said. “Everyone is.”

Percy tried to look at her, but her eyes were so intense that he couldn’t do it for long. She always seemed older than him. No matter how apparent their physical age difference became, all Thalia had to do was open her mouth and her words made Percy feel fourteen again.

She messed with his hair, trying to shove it all down into his face. “Not me, though.”

He swept it back up. “‘Course not.”

“I am worried about Annabeth,” she admitted and Percy straightened. “I mean, she’s trying so hard to prove to everyone that she’s fine—throwing herself into the Labyrinth, and college plans, and even making sure you’re okay. She’s going to snap at some point. At least you’re unraveling slowly. That seems easier to put back together.”

It wasn’t a completely revelatory idea to Percy. He’d had the same thoughts and fears as Annabeth went back to school and excelled in every way she had before, with disturbingly few hiccups. But he’d chalked it up to being his own failure. He was generally bad at things and Annabeth was generally good at things. So, she could cope better than he could, too. What else was new?

“You guys were in Tartarus, Percy.” Thalia’s voice cracked a little. “By the time I even found out about it, you’d already made it through. You could have—”

“Stop,” Percy said through clenched teeth.

The tide surged, spraying water into Thalia’s face. She coughed once, then wiped her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said.

This really was her version of being nice, then. Normally she would have zapped him for daring to pull a stunt like that. He ducked his head between his knees and focused on control—keeping the waves at bay.

“But, see? This is what I understand.”

Percy rolled his head to the side. She gestured to the waves, then to him.

“I mean, not this specifically,” she said, cocking her head at the water. “But you’re angry. And scared. And you show it—you lash out and run away. Maybe I’m not good at helping you, but I get it. With Annie, I don’t even know where to start.”

Percy didn’t either. The last thing he wanted to do was risk screwing with the peace that she seemed to have come to, so they never talked about any of it all. Except in numbers.

Thalia hung her head for a moment, then arced her neck backward to stare up at the sky. “I know you’re mad about the Labyrinth.”

He rubbed his temples. A monster headache was coming on—and he should know, he’d dealt with lots of monsters. But he appreciated that she went with ‘mad’ instead of the arguably more accurate ‘spiraling’ or ‘pretty sure you’ll drop dead the moment you go inside because your heart will stop out of sheer terror’.

“Are you actually coming or were you bluffing in there?” she asked. “Nobody would blame you if you didn’t. And I mean literally not a single person. Fucking Clarisse went to bat for you after you left.”

It was just another mind-boggling event to add to the list. Percy already felt so scrambled, they might as well pile on now before he had time to adjust.

“I’m going,” he said. “Those kids need us. And Annabeth—she’s going either way, right? I can’t let her do it alone.”

“Then you need to sleep.” Thalia struggled to her feet, brushed some sand off her legs, then reached down to help Percy up. “Solace mandated an hour-long nap for those of us who were up all night, negotiated down from five—five more hours, Percy, as if they wouldn’t be dead three times over by then.” She shook her head. “I know Nico’s all doe-eyed over that kid but he seriously needs to go.”

“I think I like Will,” Percy said.

Thalia rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

His feet felt like they were sinking into the ground as they walked back toward the cabins. It was an old trick that Gaia used to pull on them last summer, but this time he didn’t think it was her doing. They’d defeated her afterall. It was in his mind now.

He only had an hour. That was no time to prepare for the Labyrinth. It had taken him a month to work up to camp. He rubbed his hands over his arms.

“Get some sleep, Percy,” Thalia said as she dropped him at the door of his cabin.

“You too.”

It was a weird thing to say in broad daylight.

“And try not to have another nervous breakdown.”

Percy stuck his tongue out at her back and pulled his door open.

Annabeth was sitting on the edge of his bed, hitting her Yankees cap against the inside of her thigh. At her feet sat two backpacks: one Percy’s, one hers. They both looked stuffed, probably filled to the brim with clothes, nectar, ambrosia, other items that Annabeth had deemed useful for their journey.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding toward the bags.

She set her cap down and re-crossed her legs the other way. “No pressure. I just wanted it to be ready in case.”

Always the planner. But not as much as she used to be—a few years ago she probably would have hidden the backpacks until Percy confirmed he was going. They’d both rubbed off on eachother, evening out in the process. Percy’s mom said that was what made them so good together.

“Thank you,” he repeated, flopping onto the bed and rolling onto his side. “Thalia said an hour, is that right?”

She hummed in affirmation and scooted toward him, laying down once their heads were at the same height. “I should have told you about the Labyrinth. I didn’t want to give you another thing to worry about. In hindsight—well, I’m sorry.”

Percy didn’t really get it. He definitely wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Annabeth keeping stuff from him because she thought he couldn’t handle it, but he still nodded. “It’s okay. I just want to be someone you can count on, too. You know?”

Annabeth’s eyes dropped from his. They took longer to drift back up. “Percy, you are. You always have been.”

Lately he didn’t feel like it. Thalia had just confirmed it on the beach.

“What’s it like down there?” he asked. “Greater than or less than?”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, searching his face. “The first time—less, like a four. But after the initial drop, it’s not bad at all. Greater than. Like a seven. You’ll be fine. I know it.”

Percy didn’t want to second guess the truth behind Annabeth’s words, but he didn’t quite believe them. He didn’t think she was lying to him or anything like that, but everything Thalia said was eating at him. Plus, if it was a seven for her, that made it at best a five for him.

“How about you?” She ran a hand along the side of his head. “Greater than or less than?”

His heart was pounding so loud in his ears that he was sure she could hear it too, but he forced himself to smile. “I’ll stick with equal to. I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep, Seaweed Brain.”

He snuggled closer to her, pressing his face into the same spot where he’d rested it before the meeting, between her neck and shoulder. This time, his eyes refused to stay closed, despite how heavy they were.

Everyone kept saying the Labyrinth was different. So far, it didn’t seem that way. The entrance was still in Zeus’ fist.

Percy fiddled with the straps of his backpack, then patted his pants pocket, even though it was a redundant check. Riptide was always there.

Annabeth’s nerves seemed almost as frayed as his. She kept opening and closing the little device that Leo had made. Supposedly, it stored the route and directions, along with functioning as a tracking device.

“I’ll lead,” she said.

Nobody protested. Thalia slung an arm over her shoulders and walked with her to the entrance.

They lowered themselves into the crevice between the two rocks one at a time. Percy’s heart jumped into his throat when Annabeth fell from sight. He ran a shaky hand through his hair just so he’d have something to do with it.

Piper slid through next. Percy wasn’t sure how that had happened. He’d thought that Jason would have finagled his way onto their mission. It would have made sense. One of the kids out there was related to him, too. But instead, Piper was here and Percy figured he should focus on getting himself through the day rather than worrying about any possible drama he’d missed at the end of the meeting yesterday.

“Alright,” Will said. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll cover our back.” The words tripped over his tongue on the way out. They were the first ones he’d said to anyone other than Annabeth after their short nap. “I’m the oldest,” he added when they looked at him uncertainly.

“Go ahead, Will,” Nico said.

He shrugged and disappeared. “See you in a minute.”

Maybe Thalia had a point about him, it was a pretty cursed thing to say at a time like this. A line straight out of his mom’s favorite horror movies, spoken the scene before that character gets picked off by the serial killer and never seen again.

“Percy?” Nico took a step toward him.

He wiped his forehead against his wrist. It was sticky with sweat. He tried to smile, but it felt like more of a grimace. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“Me?” It was only the two of them left. Of course he meant him. “Yes. Go for it. I’ll be right after.”

Nico looked like he wanted to disagree, but he didn’t. He turned around after positioning himself over the opening. “It really isn’t as bad as it was before. It doesn’t constantly change. I don’t know if that makes you feel any better, but…”

“Definitely.” His voice came out as more of a squeak.

Nico frowned, like he wasn’t the least bit convinced, but he still dropped out of sight.

Percy doubled over, hands clasped on his knees. He sucked in one breath, then another, until it didn’t feel like his head was filled with helium anymore.

He approached the entrance to the Labyrinth. Darkness, so black that it almost hurt to look at, filled the space between the two rocks. Percy closed his eyes and dipped one foot through, immediately pulling it back. There was nothing there. He’d fall forever, down, down, down. They’d fallen for days, floating through nothingness, unable to see. The only thing he’d had was Annabeth in his arms. Now, he had nothing.

He shook his head. “Stop.”

It was the Labyrinth, not Tartarus. It was bad, but not that bad. He took a deep breath and plunged one foot in, leaving it there for a moment before lowering his other leg through. He started to fall and he clutched at the rocks to stop himself.

He was dangling on the edge again. An abyss stretched below him, but he already knew what would happen. Unspeakable terror awaited. It all flashed before him—the Cocytus, Arachne, the Curses, Nyx, titans, giants, Tartarus himself. The worst was Akhlys, or at least Annabeth’s face afterward.

He scrabbled at the rocks, trying to claw his way back out. They weren’t sturdy, started to roll under his weight.

“No,” he yelped.

And he fell.

He landed almost immediately.

His hands and knees hit the floor with a jarring thud that he felt in every bone.

“You did it.”

Percy blinked upward. Nico was crouched next to him, a hesitant smile on his face.

“It’s just the Labyrinth. Nowhere worse.” He chuckled a little. “Wow, imagine saying that to our younger selves, huh?”

Even though Percy’s muscles were trembling, he tried to make them work with him, drag him to his feet. Nico offered his hand to help him, but yanked it back as soon as they touched. His fingers came away stained red. Percy realized it was his hands’ fault. They were cut up—peeling skin and dripping blood. They must have gotten scratched on the rocks.

“It’s okay. Will’ll patch those up,” Nico said, smiling encouragingly at Percy again. He grabbed his wrists instead and hauled him up.

That should be the other way around. Percy should be the one reassuring Nico. He’d been in Tartarus, too, alone, and he was younger.

“Um.” Nico twisted the skull-ring on his finger. “Percy—you’re scaring me a little bit. Can you say something?”

He nodded, then realized that still wasn’t saying anything.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Where are the others?”

“Up ahead,” Nico said, gesturing down the never-ending hallway. “I told them Grover showed up to talk to you and we’d catch up. I thought you might need a, uh, minute. I know I did when I first came down here after—you know.”

“Thanks, Nico,” Percy said.

He shrugged it off and pointed over his shoulder. “We should get moving.”

Nico had a device in his hands that looked identical to the one Annabeth had been messing with before she’d entered the Labyrinth. He explained that Leo had made two of them, in case they needed to split up. They could each lead to the other beacon, or toward the exit in Nebraska.

Percy walked with his palms extended, facing upward, in an attempt to keep from dripping his blood on the ground. He’d made that mistake before. Demigod blood on the ground was bad news. It might unlock sleeping ancient deities.

It was probably best not to think about ancient deities.

“It does look different,” Percy noted so he’d have something else to focus on.

Nico’s head bobbed up and down. “It is. There are still traps and monsters, but not as many. I don’t think Annabeth even understands what’s happened to it. And she’s been down here the most.”

Percy paused for a second, before continuing. “Oh.”

Nico glanced at him. “Too much?”

“No… It’s just, she didn’t even tell me about it until yesterday.”

“Yeah. I sort of figured. Based on how the whole thing went down.”

Percy couldn’t fathom why Annabeth would want to be down here all the time. It wasn’t fun when they were younger, and it certainly wasn’t fun now. Two days ago if someone had asked him, sword-tip to his heart, if Annabeth would go into the Labyrinth voluntarily, his answer would have been an emphatic no. He would have been shish kebabed.

“Hey, Percy?”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“There’s going to be a—well, it’s a pit, on your right. It was a trap, but we disabled it so it’s not dangerous anymore. There’s plenty of room for us to walk around. But it looks a little—familiar.” Nico kept checking over his shoulder as if trying to gauge his response. “Just wanted to give you a warning.”

He didn’t understand why anyone would subject themselves to this, ever. The air felt staler the closer they got to the pit, thick and hard to breath. It burned down his throat and into his lungs, like poison. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not.

After Percy caught his first glimpse of the pit, he screwed his eyes shut and stuck his elbow out to stay in contact with the wall on his left. He tried to focus on something his mom had told him a few years ago, when he’d still had the Curse of Achilles. He’d been even more tired then. His body was burning up too fast, everyday. And he had been angry too. He’d wanted to fight. The feeling had scared him so bad that he’d run into his mom’s room in the middle of the night like he was much younger and far less brave.

“Everything comes and goes, baby,” she’d told him as they’d sat on the edge of her bed. “Even more so for you than the rest of us. You ebb and flow like the tide.”

He coughed a little as the pit’s fumes clogged his throat. It made his hands sting and itch, too. He rubbed them on his shirt.

“Okay,” Nico said, voice hoarse. “That’s the worst thing for a while.”

That was the sort of thing you should never say as a demigod.

Percy opened one eye, then the other when he confirmed Nico’s assessment that the pit was behind them.

Nico twisted something on the outside of the device. “We’ve almost caught them. If we move a little faster, we should be there in no time.”

They walked past a four-way intersection. Percy eyed the perpendicular hallway. He could hear a clock—multiple clocks, ticking on either side of them. Or maybe it was clicking.

“Nico—“

The walls, floors, ceiling started to move, crawling toward them in six-legged segments until they were surrounded. Myrmekes —giant ants. There had to be dozens. Nico drew his sword and Percy clenched Riptide in his still bloody hand.

He swung a few times and the ants closest to him skittered backwards. It didn’t last long. They came right back and didn’t seem as scared of the dull glow of the bronze the second time.

He took a step back, right into Nico. “What do you think?”

“There are too many.”

Percy bit back a sarcastic, oh, really?

Nico took a deep breath and Percy had a chilling premonition of what he was about to do. He squeezed his eyes shut as the ground shuddered and crumbled around them. It was so much like the day they fell. Everything had been vibrating, pieces of Arachne’s lair falling away. And then they’d been falling, too. He’d cursed himself for the whole way down. Why had they stayed on the edge of a gaping hole in the ground so long? Why hadn’t he noticed the web around Annabeth’s ankle sooner?

After the shaking and roaring stopped, the only sound was Nico’s heavy breathing.

Percy opened his eyes. The ants were gone. The ground around them was, too—in every direction. They were suspended in black that stretched forever, the small circular platform they stood on all that was left. His brain short-circuited.

“Hopefully that’s all there is,” Nico said between pants. “I won’t be able to do that again any time soon.”

Percy stumbled back from the edge, landing hard on his back, but he could still see the darkness, the nothing, the falling. That was all there was.

“Percy?”

He covered his face to block it all out, but it didn’t help. They were hanging over a vacuum. The expansive nothing below was sucking the oxygen out of the Labyrinth.

“It’s okay.” Nico shook his shoulders, gently at first, then harder. “Percy? It’ll close up. Just give me a few seconds.”

The rumbling started again and Percy flinched. Nico kept talking to him, but he couldn’t make out anything more than syllables, intermixing with the sounds of the ground sealing back together.

Then it all stopped.

“Come on.” Nico tried to pull him up by his arm. “I’m going to get you back to camp, okay?”

That jolted Percy back into himself. Going back meant passing the stretch by the pit again and disappointing Annabeth and failing his little sibling. It was bad enough that Nico had seen all that. He didn’t need the rest of his friends and everyone at camp hearing about it. He shook Nico off and stood.

“Why would we go back? Didn’t you say we were close to the others?”

Nico opened his mouth, then closed it, pressing his lips together. Thankfully, he decided against saying anything—just took the device out of his pocket and led the way.

Percy trudged after him, trying to steady his breathing.

“There’s blood all over your face,” Nico said without looking back. “From your hands. I assume you want to get that off before Annabeth sees you.”

Percy pulled up his shirt and started scrubbing at it.

His mom’s words floated through his mind again. There’d been a lot of flowing in the last couple of years. He was ready to ebb.

[ringosroger]

loyalty [part two]

warnings – children

Being with a rockstar was never easy but no one told you how much worse it was when it was all over. You were used to seeing only your face in the tabloids, looking up at Roger lovingly, his arm draped around your shoulders. Days and nights were nothing but fun with Roger around. But you weren’t with Roger anymore though and it was no longer your face in all his pictures. It was more like a large collection of women as Roger was spotted with a new lady almost every night.

You knew Roger was doing it to make you jealous and to hurt you. He’d given you enough hurt to last a lifetime. Slowly but surely moving on, you weren’t jealous of the women but you were hurt. Your breakup was still fresh and it was still painful seeing him with women who weren’t you. Those women would only end up in the same position you were in now and you wouldn’t wish that on anyone. If you could turn back time, you would’ve never gone to Freddie’s party. You wished you didn’t.

Since yours and Roger’s breakup, you hadn’t seen any of his bandmates. Not even a call or a visit which you had to admit stung. You considered them to be your friends but you understood it must’ve been awkward for them. Not to mention they were probably busy meeting all of Roger’s miscellaneous hookups. None of those women held a candle to you so you weren’t threatened. They weren’t as good for Roger as you were for him.

You still lived in the house you shared with Roger, despite your wanting to leave. Roger insisted that you stay here and live with your children, Zoë and Leo. Deciding not to uproot them from their home, you agreed. He moved in a house a little too close for your liking but at least he was close to the children. No matter what went on between the two of you, he never let that get in the way of his relationship with the kids. A good husband he was not but Roger was a great father.

Reluctantly waking up, you saw the time and quickly got ready. Roger was coming to the house to pick up the kids for the day. He always did something nice with them and Zoë could never stop talking about it when she came home. You tried not remember all the nice things you all did as a family. Spending time with the kids separately was something you thought you’d never do. Times changed and not for the better.

Going into Leo’s room he was still sleeping soundly. Sometimes he got up during the night and was only starting to really sleep through now. You knew he’d get up before Roger came. He and Zoë had sixth senses when it came to Roger. You went into Zoë’s room. Unsurprisingly she was awake, looking towards the door.

“Mummy.” Zoë stood up in her cot and held her hands out.

“Good morning.” You smiled, picking up your daughter.

“G’ mornin,” Zoë replied. “Daddy’s coming today?”

She always asked when Roger was coming even though she knew he’d be there. Since you’d split up with Roger, Zoë didn’t know how to adjust to not seeing her dad every day. Whenever Roger left she thought that would be the last time he saw her. Leo wasn’t fairing any better but he was younger and reacted however Zoë did.

Nodding, you forced a smile. “Yes, Daddy’s coming today. Aren’t you excited?”

Zoë grinned, nodding her head at a breakneck speed. It was clear as day she adored her father and that made your heart swell. Roger would always treat Zoë right and you knew he’d never break her heart.

Zoë and Leo were the lights of your life. Zoë was two, almost three. While both of your children uncannily resembled Roger, Zoë’s mannerisms were also identical to his. She was like his twin in every way.

“Leo?” Zoë looked around for her younger brother.

“He’s still sleeping,” you told her. “Let’s get you ready and then we can go wake him up.”

Getting Zoë ready was always a struggle. Suddenly everything was fascinating her and there was a million things she wanted to do but get ready. However when Roger was coming, there was no struggle. She would do everything asked of her if it meant she could see her dad.

You didn’t know what to tell Zoë when she asked why her daddy didn’t live with her anymore. Why he didn’t tuck her in at night and read her bedtime stories or why he wasn’t there to wake her up and make her breakfast. You thought your heart couldn’t possibly break any more until your child’s heart was broken.

Putting on Zoë’s shoes, you heard Leo beginning to cry. Squealing as loudly as she could Zoë jumped up and down, ecstatic her brother was awake. Leo was almost a year old and Zoë was fascinated by everything he did. Even though she was more or a less a baby herself, she was excited to have a younger sibling. She always begged you and Roger for a sister but that would never happen now.

“Leo!” Zoë clapped her hands. “Leo’s awake!”

“Yes he is,” you laughed.

You and Zoë went into Leo’s room and you were in disbelief of how loud his cries were. He was usually a quiet baby and didn’t cry that much but he made up for it when he did cry. Everyone mentioned he had a loud voice just like his father.

Picking Leo up, his cries stopped and his gaze focused on you. Leo was rarely never by your side and if he wasn’t, he was with Roger. He didn’t take well to strangers at all. You’d like to think at least Leo had some, if not all, of your mannerisms.

“Quick!” Zoë pulled on your dress. “Daddy’s coming soon.”

At the mention of the word ‘Daddy’, Leo craned his head thinking Roger would suddenly appear. You hoped the waterworks wouldn’t start again. Luckily for you, the doorbell rang.

Roger.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Zoë raced downstairs as fast as her little legs would take her.

“Zoë, not so fast,” you warned her, not that she’d hear you.

Making your way downstairs at the slowest pace you could, you opened the door to be greeted with the sight of Roger.

Roger scooped Zoë up in his arms and you would be lying if you said you weren’t emotional at the sight. It was adorable. Seeing how good he was with the kids made you miss him even more. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“How you doing, Zo?” Roger held Zoë as close to him as he could. He saw her almost every day but he missed her so, so much.

“Good,” Zoë replied, her grin never leaving her face. If anything it’d gotten wider.

“Are you being a good girl for Mummy?” Roger asked.

Nodding, Zoë and Roger looked at you for clarification.

“Yes, she’s being good,” you confirmed.

“Told you,” Zoë said to Roger as he shut the door.

Safe to say that Zoë inherited Roger’s sass too.

Zoë and Roger sat in the living room and an unbearable amount of awkwardness washed over you. It always did when he came around. You didn’t know what to do or how to be yourself. It just wasn’t the same and you didn’t know how long that feeling would carry on for.

“I have to get Leo ready,” you announced, finally finding your way out. Plus, Zoë and Roger can have some bonding time.

Zoë was young, wanting to spend time with her dad and had no clue about you not wanting to be in the room. Roger, on the other hand, knew what you were doing and wouldn’t let you leave so easily. Or on your own.

“Zoë and I can help,” Roger offered. He turned to Zoë, giving her his million dollar smile – a smile no one could resist. “Can’t we Zo?”

Your attempt at being alone failed when Zoë agreed with her dad.

All you wanted was time away from Roger to get your head clear and think about what you wanted. What was best for you and for the kids. Roger was giving you space. He didn’t live with you anymore. Still, whenever he came it was like he never left. To you, his presence was overwhelming. Those feelings of love you had for Roger came rushing back as if they’d never left.

You weren’t sure if they would ever leave.

“Mummy?”

Zoë’s voice broke you out of your daze and you turned look at her.

“Yes, love?”

“You were zoned out there,” Roger told you. “Everything alright?”

The both of you knew why you’d zoned out and knew nothing was alright. You couldn’t look him in the eyes and instead answered with a stiff nod.

Roger felt bad. He really did. He missed you and the kids so so much and there wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t think about you all. Not realising what you had until it was taken from you was the worst feeling. Roger missed the family life and the routine that went with it.

He missed waking up to your beautiful face and kissing you. Making love to you, holding you, just being around you. He missed coming home to a noisy house, kids at his ankles and you by his side. Nothing could ever fill the void in his heart that you left.

Not that Roger blamed you. He didn’t and he knew it wouldn’t be right for him to. Realising he was the one to blame just made it that more real. It was his fault and he had to fix it. Seeing your heartbroken face each day made him unsure if he could. He wanted you to love him again, to be proud to tell people he was your husband.

Roger had a change of heart, insisting he could get Leo ready while you waited downstairs. You decided not to question him, giving a quick thank you and pretending not to see him staring at your ass.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” Zoë asked when you left.

You’d specifically asked Zoë to not talk about that with Roger. Mainly because you hadn’t told her anything yourself and you didn’t want her to get upset. Zoë was at that age where she noticed something wasn’t right and you didn’t want to upset her further.

“Well.” Roger paused, not knowing what to say. He couldn’t tell his daughter how much of a dick he’d been to her mother. How he lied and cheated. He never wanted Zoë to find out what he’d done because she didn’t deserve to hear that.

“Well?” Zoë repeated impatiently.

“We’re having a bit of break, your mum and I,” Roger told her.

“A break? Why?”

Zoë was at that age where questions were at the forefront of her mind. If the answers weren’t up to her liking, she’d ask again and again until they were. Roger always found her curious nature quite amusing up until now.

“Mummy says breaks are for when you’re tired,” Zoë said. “Are you and Mummy tired of each other?”

Leo splashed about in his bath, squealing away and unaware of any tensions. Roger was glad he’d never have to remember any of this.

“No,” Roger told her honestly – on his part, anyway. “I could never be tired of your mummy. I love her.”

“And she loves you too?” Zoë asked unsurely, afraid of the answer she’d get. There was nothing more in that moment she wanted to hear than that you loved her daddy too.

Roger didn’t know how you felt about him being around. He certainly didn’t know if you still loved him. You did once which must mean something. If you didn’t anymore that wasn’t what Zoë had to know or hear.

“Yes,” Roger replied. “Your mummy and I love each other very much. We both love you and Leo and that’s never going to change.”

Zoë didn’t look too thrilled by his response as if she knew he was lying. But she took it all in stride and went along with it anyway.

“Stay tonight,” Zoë pleaded. “Please. I miss you.”

At that even little Leo nodded, glancing up at Roger.

“Stay,” Leo repeated. “Stay, stay!”

“Leo misses you too,” Zoë added.

Roger laughed nervously. “You’d have to ask your mother.” He knew you definitely wouldn’t be on board with that. “How about we go and visit Uncle Freddie today?”

“Uncle Freddie!” Zoë cheered.

Zoë adored her uncles and she especially loved Freddie’s cats. She’d begged her mum for a pet but had never gotten one. It didn’t help that Leo didn’t take kindly to the cats at Freddie’s house either.

Taking Leo out of the tub, Roger dried him off with a towel. He didn’t think he was able to distract Zoë but he did. She was relentless when she wanted to be, much like he was. All of the good parts in him were exemplified in her.

“Where are you going?”

Your voice startled Roger. He knew you’d come back up eventually. You were always antsy when Roger was going out. Even now though you weren’t together, your thoughts would run a thousand miles per minute. You’d try to act like you didn’t care but everyone knew differently.

Roger always wondered why you’d act like that when he was going out. Following him around the house, acting nonchalant then asking too many questions than a nonchalant person would. When he realised that he was the reason for all of that, he felt awful. He was too busy worrying about other women to realise the only woman he wanted, no needed, was right in front of him.

“Uncle Freddie’s,” Zoë answered. “I get to see his cats!”

You hadn’t seen Freddie since the party, which had been a few months.

“That’s lovely,” you smiled and Roger saw right through it.

Roger knew why you felt so awkward and he didn’t blame you. That night was the destruction of your marriage.

After getting Leo ready, Roger stood around awkwardly. He didn’t want to leave you just yet. You needed that time alone, he knew it, but he didn’t want it. As bad as it sounded he didn’t want you to realise you could find someone better. That was what would happen. You’d come to your senses and want nothing to do with him.

“Isn’t Mummy coming too?” Zoë questioned. It was a question for Roger but it was directed at you.

You weren’t one to say no to your children for much especially since your split with Roger. You’d felt the need make up for what was lost.

“Mummy’s got plans today, I’m sure she has things to do,” Roger told Zoë.

Zoë’s face went blood red at that comment. Cut to five minutes later and that was how you found yourself in Roger’s car, on your way to Freddie’s house.

tags:

@celebsimagines @hiken-no-stark @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @langdonzvoid @ziggysstarrdust @itsametaphorbriansblog @twistingrealityagain @int0-you @sweet- -catrastrophe @stardvstial

[likethetailofacomet]

Before the Storm

A/N: How does the revelation of Erika’s true identity change things for everyone? Can they all get though the final hours of the social season without another visit from the devils? And who is the seventh devil? 

Pairings: Drake x Claire (MC), Liam x Kiara

Word Count: 4,560- sorry this one got away from me! 

Liam sat in his study alone. The air was full of tension and the ticking of a mantle clock, thick with uncertainty and something shy of shock but more than expectation. He turned his chair to face the window behind his desk, staring out at the kingdom he would inherit roughly twelve hours from now. His father had dropped that bomb on him immediately after the news about Erika had leaked. King Constantine’s public image couldn’t take a hit like an alleged out of wedlock daughter that he refused to have a relationship with, and rather than continue to taint the name Rhys, he had chosen to relinquish his title, his crown, his responsibility to his son. Liam was always going to become King, this he knew. But the plan was for Constantine to rule for another five years to allow Liam more time to settle in to the role, and to allow him time to settle in to the marriage he would be entering in sooner rather than later. He sighed, thinking to himself that he’d need to tell Kiara before the ball that evening- he was going to choose her to be his Queen, and she had the right to know how immediately she’d be stepping into her new role. He wasn’t worried. He knew that Lady Kiara was an excellent choice for the country given her political knowledge, her diplomatic upbringing, love of culture and ability to speak fluently in several languages. He allowed a small amount of warmth to enter his heart as he pictured her face during his announcement; pictured the way she’d smile and the way her dark eyes would shine like onyxes as she stepped to his side. At least he’d been lucky enough to have feelings for the woman he was choosing as his bride, unlike many of his ancestors.

He watched the sun come up, glinting off of the lake in the distance, off the gilded dome of the Cathedral that was just visible past the palace grounds, drinking his coffee slowly. This was the last day he would spend as a Prince, and the first day he’d spend questioning every aspect of his relationship with his father and Regina. That they knew he and Leo had a sister and never shared it simply because of her social status made him second guess everything they’d ever told him, everything he’d ever thought about them. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to imagine how Erika must have felt, knowing who she was; knowing that Constantine couldn’t even spare her an hour to answer 30 years’ worth of questions. He felt a pang of longing, thinking about how he had another sibling in the world- how he’d had another sibling all his life and had been denied the chance to know her, and how now it was likely too late. She’d chosen to throw her lot in with the rebels, and Liam honestly couldn’t blame her. The glint of the sun changed angles as the glowing orb rose higher over his kingdom, shining in his eye and blinding him. He squinted against it and rose from his chair as the citizens beyond the window rose from their beds to read the news that had thrown yet another wrench in his social season.

Bastien had woken him at quarter after five in the morning, pounding on his door to call him for an emergency meeting with his father. It was that meeting where Liam learned of Erika, of Constantine’s knowledge and denial of her, of her involvement with the Seven Devils and what that might mean for the ball that evening. He’d gaped, open mouthed at his father as he nodded and admitted that Erika Manderly was in fact his child, conceived during a fling with one of the suitors he hadn’t chosen when he was in Liam’s shoes. Liam shook his head, disappointment filling the space between his ears and the cavity of his ribs. He couldn’t imagine denying his own child, his own flesh and blood simply because they had a different last name- simply because he had been careless in his actions and had relied on his own status to erase the mistake for him. “Who are you, father?” Liam asked the man before him, his eyes narrow and his lips pressed thinly together. Constantine didn’t have an answer. Instead he looked sadly at his son before rolling his head to the side to look out the window. He sighed and Liam supposed that he felt some remorse over how everything had gone, but he wasn't ready to forgive his father.

“Liam, your father did what he thought was right.” Regina's voice suddenly sounded foreign to him. Where he once looked at her as a mother, now he didn’t know how he could ever see her that way again. A mother wouldn't do what she'd done. A father wouldn't. He didn't dignify her words with a response, simply turned to Bastien, ignoring the fact that the two most powerful people in the country were in the room.

“Where is Leo? Does he know?” It was clear to Liam that Bastien had no prior knowledge of Erika's existence from the tone of his voice and the angle of his eyebrows as he spoke. It was clear to Liam that he could trust Bastien.

Bastien cleared his throat before answering. “Prince Leo was on his way back to Cordonia for this evening's events,” he paused to spare Liam a sympathetic glance, knowing that Liam had been looking forward to seeing his brother, to having him there while he chose his Queen, and now that things had changed, while he he became crowned as King. “But with the new developments,” his eyes flicked over towards the King, still gazing empty-eyed out the window, before returning to meet Liam's. “I've contacted his security detail, and they've changed their travel plans. I'm sorry, your highness, but Prince Leo won't be in attendance tonight.” He left the next part unsaid, but Liam knew what he wasn't saying: We can't have the entire Rhys family in one place. Even though Leo had abdicated his claim, passing his birth rite to Liam, Cordonian Law would require him to resume his place in the line of succession in the event that there were no living heirs.

A shiver went through Liam's spine, but he nodded. “And we're certain that his location is secure? Can I,” he sighed and let his shoulders fall a little, releasing some of the tension, knowing that it would be back seconds later. “Am I able to speak with my brother?”

Bastien blinked, trying not to let any pity show through his gaze. “I'm sorry, your highness, I think it would be best to keep communication to an absolute minimum until after the ball this evening. That way we won't risk any phone lines being tapped or information being intercepted.” He put a hand on Liam's shoulder and the two men locked eyes. “I know there are,” he flicked his eyes back to the King and Queen, both wearing a look that asked How did this all come crashing down on us? He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I know there are things that you need to discuss with your brother. As soon as the event has concluded, I will have a secure line ready for you to speak with Prince Leo.” Liam sucked in a breath as he thought about what the conclusion of the evening's events would mean: his engagement, his coronation. He'd be King. And all without Leo's presence.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, that's...that's good, Bastien. Thank you.” He shook the man's hand and the meeting wrapped up with Bastien excusing himself to see to all of the protocol that would need adjusting.

“Liam,” Constantine had somehow found his voice, looking at his son through eyes full of regret. “Son,” he turned his body to face him.

“Don't-” Liam held up one hand. Regina let out a gasp at the harsh tone in her step-son's voice. “Don't call me that.” He dropped his hand and let out a breath. “I... I need some time, please just...” he cleared his throat and, with painfully practiced precision, forced his tone to return to a more even one. “I need some time to think.” He stood stock still, not moving.

Constantine blinked a few times, as though he was having a hard time processing Liam's words. He nodded as they sunk in, and he squared his shoulders, turning to his wife. “Come, Regina...” he let his eyes slip to where Liam stood, still not moving, gaze still fixed firmly and defensively on the two of them. “We've done enough damage.” He took the Queen's arm, tugging lightly to get her to follow him from the room. The door closed behind them and Liam crossed the room to the desk, lowering himself slowly into the chair to look out the window, to watch the sun rise on the day that would change his life, his country, forever.

*** *** *** ***

Claire lay awake in the dim light of the barely risen sun. She'd not slept much, mind racing with thoughts of the ball that evening, signaling the end of the social season, and what that might mean, what that might change. She feared anything coming of the threats that had been made, feared anything happening to Drake or to Liam, imagination working overtime to fill her head with images and scenarios that she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to fully erase. At the same time, she felt her heart lighten as she realized that the end of the season meant that she and Drake could leave, could get away from everything and just be together without all of the pressures of court, all of the prying eyes and the gossip and the strict rules. She sighed softly, eyes roving over his sleeping face as his eyelids fluttered, long lashes moving like feathers. He must have been dreaming, and she wondered what of. The corners of his closed eyes wrinkled up a bit and she felt her chest swell and her throat tighten with how she loved him. He was laying on his stomach, face tilted towards her, one arm draped across her hip, the other curled under his pillow, and her eyes traveled next to his bare back, to the steady rise and fall of his breathing, to way his defined muscles moved with each breath. She reached over to brush her fingers across what was exposed of his forehead, moving a piece of hair aside to find his skin. She let her touches trail down his cheek, down the side of his neck before curving her palm around his far shoulder blade. She used his body as a handhold to pull herself closer to him, and she felt him stir and wake as she did. “Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up,” she whispered into his shoulder, his left arm coming up to her back, fingers spreading out across her spine.

“S'okay, Berkley,” he mumbled sleepily, words muffled by the pillow. He turned his face a little more so that he could speak more clearly. “You okay, beautiful?” He kissed her forehead, his lips pressed slowly against her skin as he exhaled through his nose and let his fingers dance across her back.

“Um, hmm,” she hummed, non-convincingly into him, inhaling deeply, his scent filling her lungs.

Drake took the hand from her back and used it to gently pry her face away from his side. “Hey, there you are,” he said softly, dipping his lips down to hers for a kiss. She whimpered against his mouth. “It's going to be alright, Berkley, everything's going to be alright. It'll all be over tonight. You'll see,” he rested his forehead against hers, needing to believe what he was telling her.

“I know,” she said, wanting to mean it. They lay like that for a few minutes, just breathing one another, feeling the other against themselves, and she let images from the entire social season fly through her mind- her first night in Cordonia, the day at the racetrack, how he'd saved her from getting trampled, how he'd jumped back from her like she'd burned him before turning around and burning her with a fiery kiss. She saw flashes from Lythikos, skating with Drake, the first genuine smile she'd seen from him since they left New York; following him into the snow, the way his hand had grasped her wrist, fingers closing gently around her, thumb brushing against her pulse point as meteors swept across the sky. She saw them sitting in her window seat as he bared his soul to her, saw the two of them walking towards that hut on the beach the day of the Regatta, their hands linked, their feet splashing in the water, almost as though they hadn't a care in the world. All the mornings at the cabin, all the sighs and moans and bites, all the languid kisses that reached far down into her heart. She blocked out all the awful things that had happened, focusing on the arms around her and how they'd become her home, how she had become his. “I know, we'll be okay,” she said softly. In a way, she wasn't lying. She knew that they would be okay, that nothing could come between what they had found in one another. She sighed wishing it was enough to keep them both safe- to keep him safe and breathing, to keep his heart beating so they could go on loving.

Drake’s phone lit up on the side table casting a blueish light up towards the ceiling. Claire heard him sigh as he tapped her lightly on the hip, fingers grazing her tattoo, before shifting his weight. He brought both elbows up to rest on either side of her head and she turned onto her back so he could lower himself down for a kiss. His lips worked slowly against hers as he wished that he could slow time with that kiss. Drake brought the fingers of his good hand up to her face and let them wander into her hair as she parted her lips to allow his tongue to slip into her mouth. He wished they could forgo the ball that evening, wished that they could stay right where they were. The phone lit up a second time, and he tugged at her bottom lip lightly breaking the kiss and sitting up to check his messages.

Claire sat up slowly, keeping her eyes on him as he opened his lock screen, his own dark eyes widening before he swore under his breath with a frown. She closed her eyes and let out a breath slowly. “What is it, Drake?” she asked, reaching out and laying her hand against his back.

Drake stared at his screen for a few more seconds, re-reading the texts before answering her. “It’s Liam,” he turned to look at her, dropping his phone to his lap. “Constantine is stepping down tonight. Claire,” he shook his head. “There was another article and…” he sighed and picked his phone back up to show her the news. After she’d read the article and seen the photos- a sharp intake of breath as she saw the one of she and Drake holding the cardboard box; the one of Liam and Kiara through the window of his study- he told her that he needed to go see Liam…that Liam needed his support.

She swallowed and nodded, looking at the time. 6:30 am. It was 11:30 pm in New York. “Of course,” she leaned forward on her knees to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Of course, Drake. Go talk to him. I should…” she swallowed again. “I should call Daniel. Let him know what’s going on…” Drake understood. Claire didn’t know where her sister was or how to reach her. Dan was the closest thing to family that she had, and she wanted her family to know she loved him, just in case. He shook the just in case from his mind.

“I’ll come right back to you,” he told her, returning her kiss with a gentle peck to the crest of her cheek.

“I know you will.” She gave him a small smile, mustering up every bit of confidence and bravado that she could. As soon as he had gone from the room she fell back into the pillows and pulled her phone out to call Dan.

It rang four times. She knew he was at work, and just before she was about to hang up to try again later, his voice came across the speaker. “Hey stinker, everything okay?”

“Dan…” she filled him in on everything, trying not to make it sound like feared this might be their last conversation.

*** *** *** ***

A clock struck nine as Liam readied himself to knock on her door. He tried to keep calm as he walked through the hallway, the conversation he’d just had with Drake replaying in his mind. His friend, his brother, had reassured him that he had his unwavering support, that he had Claire’s. He was so grateful for Drake’s friendship through the years, but especially now, especially as he’d lost faith in his father, in everything he thought he knew about the crown and his country. Drake had told him that he would make a better leader than Constantine could have been in his own wildest dreams; that he believed that Liam would help Cordonia start to heal. He’d been sympathetic towards his discovery of Erika, towards the remorse Liam felt for never getting the chance to know her, to have a relationship with her and let her into his heart and his family the way that Constantine and Regina had refused to do. Liam had confided how nervous, how shaken he truly was from all of the threats and the press and the constantly shifting circumstances, and Drake had confided that he was, too, but that he’d have his back no matter what happened. The way he’d clapped him on the shoulder and held his gaze felt like a signature on a binding contract, and he knew the he could always count on the man before him. It helped him steady his heartbeat and slow his breathing and calm the storm that was brewing in his mind. It helped to have a friend, a brother, like Drake.

He approached her door and nodded to the guard that had been assigned to stand outside- after Micah’s betrayal and disappearance, Liam had insisted that she be constantly guarded in case the snake decided to come back, in case he had any unfinished business with his former charge. The guard moved aside, greeting Liam by bowing his head, and Liam knocked on the door, waiting for her answer. She opened it, meeting his cool blue eyes with hers and without a word he could tell that she’d seen the article. “Ki,” he breathed as he entered the room and entered her embrace. She wrapped her thin arms around him and he delighted in her warmth. He crashed his lips to hers as the door shut behind them, and all the fear and worry fell away for a moment as he deepened the kiss and poured what he really and truly believed to be love into it. They broke apart, breaths heavy, and she traced his jaw with her fingers. “Kiara…we need to talk, love,” he said before pressing another quick kiss to her lips for courage. She led him to the chaise lounge in her room and he sat next to her, holding her hands in his as he confided everything to her; that he’d be choosing her as his queen, that he’d be taking up the crown that evening. She’d kissed him again, sweetly, and whispered that she loved him into his ear, wrapping him in her arms again, and he stayed there with her for most of the morning, until he tore himself from her to start getting ready, a promise to make time only for her at the ball that evening.

*** *** *** ***

Claire had finished her conversation with Daniel, not bothering to try to reassure him of anything that she had no business reassuring him of. She hadn’t promised to stay safe, she hadn’t promised to leave Cordonia. She’d only told him that she needed him to know what was going on, and that she loved him. Surprisingly, he hadn’t argued, finally understanding the love between Drake and Claire, and how strong it must be if she was willing to stay in such danger for him. “You’ll call me as soon as it’s over tonight, Claire, you hear me?”

“I hear you, D,” she responded, grateful that he wasn’t trying to push her to leave, to leave it all behind, leave Drake and Liam and Hana and the Beaumonts, leave Cordonia and come home where it was safe. She was glad he realized that while Alex was out there, there really wasn’t such a thing as safe. “I hear you and I promise, I’ll call you as soon as it wraps up, as soon as Drake and I leave the palace.”

“Love you, stinker.”

“Love you more,” she’d responded as they ended their call. Not a full minute had passed when there was a knock on the door. She straightened her spine, unsure of whether or not she should answer it. Drake wouldn’t knock. He’d only been gone thirty minutes and she assumed he’d be gone longer, assumed that his conversation with Liam would last longer than that. Just as she was about to text Drake about the knocking, the sound came back, this time accompanied by a voice. “Claire,” the voice said, and she immediately relaxed, standing to cross to the door to open it. “Claire, its Bastien.”

She pulled the door open and the man stood before her, a serious quality to his steely eyes. “Good morning, Bastien,” she said flatly, letting him in.

“Good morning, Claire.” He responded, stepping past her. “I won’t be long, I just,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

Claire knit her eyebrows together and reached out to touch his shoulder. She felt his hardened muscles stretching the material of his jacket, he felt her soft, warm touch. “What’s wrong, Bas, is it Drake? Is everything alright?”

He dropped his hand and softened his features, taking in her worried expression. “Drake is fine, Claire, everyone is safe. I…I just wanted to talk to you.”

Claire felt her eyes grow wide and her mouth drop open before she forced it to shut not wanting to look like a fish. “Of course,” she said, trying not to sound so shocked. She sat down and he followed suit, taking the chair across from her. He folded his hands and rested them against his bent knee. She noticed his watch, solid and masculine. She noticed his fingers, ringless and bulky, the knuckles knobby from having been broken through the years.

He wasted no time. “Claire, I know that you love Drake. Its obvious, its written all over the both of you.” She blushed and he let the corner of his mouth twitch upwards quickly. “And I couldn’t be happier. Drake is like family to me, and I can see how happy you can make him, how whole you can make his life. I just have to be sure, Claire, that you’re in it for the long haul with him. That no matter what happens tonight, or in the future…” he dropped his gaze down to his hands for a moment, palms rubbing together before meeting her eyes again. “That you won’t run if things don’t get better.”

“I’ll never leave him out of fear, Bastien. I could never do that. He accepted my past like it was nothing. He accepted Alex like it was nothing, he’s put himself in danger for me. I love him, Bas, and I’m fully aware of what that means.” She assured him.

Bastien nodded. “That’s good, Claire.” He sighed. “That’s very good. He loves you so fiercely… I’m glad that love is being returned. I’m glad he’ll have you to come home to after all of this.” He stood as he spoke and Claire could hear something in his voice that sounded like regret, but she certainly wasn’t going to pry. Instead, she stood as well and wrapped her arms around the man in a tight hug, taking him by surprise. He let out a soft chuckle, continuing the surprise.

“Thank you for looking out for him, Bastien.  He’s got both of us now, I promise you.”

He patted her shoulder lightly as he removed himself from the hug. “And you’ve both got me,” he said, giving her another small, one sided smile that brightened his eyes a touch, but not so much that that longing, that regret she’d heard in his voice had vanished, and she wondered who the woman was that had such a hold on this man’s heart. Who the woman was and where she’d run off to once things had gotten hard. He didn’t give her long to ponder, excusing himself and leaving the room, Drake entering seconds later. “Hey,” he said, coming in and greeting her with a kiss. “What was Bastien doing here?”

Claire smiled up at him as his arms came around her, his clunky casted right hand resting on her hip, his left pressing against the small of her back. “Just checking in,” she said, rising on her toes to kiss his nose, lips lingering there as it crinkled with his smile. “Just making sure he could trust me to love you through all of this.” She reached up and smoothed his hair down, running her fingers through it. “I told him that nothing could keep me from loving you, Drake. Not a thing.” She dropped back down to her feet with a sigh.

“He’s a good man,” Drake said, shaking his head. “Even with everything that’s going on, he’s looking out for me…”

“He loves you. I love you. You look out for the people you love.”

Drake thought about her words. He would. He’d look out for the people he loved. Claire, Liam, Bastien…hell, even Olivia and Max and Hana. He’d look out for them all. “Yeah, Berkley, you do.”

They spent the rest of the day lounging in each other’s embrace, until it got to the point where they would be pushing their luck on getting ready in time for the ball if they didn’t start moving. They’d cleaned up and gotten dressed, Drake in a sleek gray suit, Claire in a deep cut white gown, and as a clock chimed seven that evening, he escorted her out into the hallway. “One more time, baby, one more of these and then it’s just you and me. Just you and me…” he leaned in and brushed his lips to her ear.

Outside the storm clouds gathered, dark and ominous, but not a bolt of lightning nor a drop of rain interrupted their silvery swirls. As the nobles started gathering in the ballroom, three figures entered through the garage, slinking in the shadows, unnoticed.

 tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlessly-searching-for-you @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @jovialyouthmusic @akrenich @indiacater @endlesstaylormckenzie @gardeningourmet @nekkidmolerat @cordoniantrash @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @roonarific @the-whiskeywife

[spectrumscribe]

These Days

Inspired by both my utter salt for the current brother-brother dynamics in canon, and the song These Days by the Black Keys.

Previous part, first part, and AO3 version of the series.

Chapter summary:

The youngest child is always the last. The last to learn things, the last to grow up, and the last to find their place in life.

That should not include being the last to be respected, or heard, or loved.

——————————————————————

Part Four.

Mikey’s throat burns, itchy and hot. Or maybe that’s his head. Or maybe it’s just both of them at the same time.

His fingers tap restlessly against the wooden counter, his feet starting to jitter too. He’s supposed to be listening to someone else, but right now all he can hear are echoes and memories knocking around his head that just won’t stop.

He swallows thick and bitterly, and tastes his own anger. It’s like bile on his tongue and he hates it just as much as he hates the scenes playing through his head.

Raph’s hands, Leo’s words, vice versa and combined, and Donnie’s listlessness, the blank way he’s always opting out, always drifting away just when Mikey needs him most, and he hates those things so much, but he also hates how Donnie does that because he can’t handle what’s been said and done to him, and how Mikey’s sometimes the cause of him doing that he’s not blameless and how it all still hurts, all those things, and they’re both so fucked up and it’s not fair because they left they left and this shouldn’t be bothering Mikey anymore-

“Michelangelo?”

Leatherhead’s gravelly voice snaps Mikey out of his spiraling, infuriating thoughts, and he blinks back to where he’s supposed to be

They’re in Murakami’s shop. Leatherhead carefully squeezed into the room to lean halfway onto the counter, enjoying soup and sushi as he visits with a fellow old man and the rest of them. Mondo darting around behind the counter with Murakami, dressed in his apron and cooking clothes specially fitted for him, showing off what the old chef has been teaching him the last few months. Mikey sitting at the counter, spacing out and building up stupid, pointless anger that he should’ve just left ignored.

All of them are staring at him.

Mikey violently shoves away his anger, and gives them an innocent look. “Sorry! Yikes, I totally zonked out,” Mikey says, wincing comically as he rubs the back of his neck. “What’d I miss again?”

Leatherhead gives him a measured look, and replies, “We were just wondering if you would also like to try Mondo’s new dish.” He gestures one large hand at Mondo, who’s holding up a bowl of soup from the pot he and Murakami have been attending to this whole time. “I’ve had a sip, and it’s very good. I highly recommend it.”

“Is something troubling you, Michelangelo?” Murakami asks, turning his head towards Mikey, and it feels like the older human is staring at him despite having no sight. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight, most uncharacteristic of you.”

That’s right. Murakami is right; it is out of character for Mikey to be quiet around people. He just can’t shut up, ever, because he’ll run his stupid little mouth until his voice is hoarse or someone shuts him up by force. Raph had done that, usually. Whenever he got sick of Mikey’s words, sick of Mikey’s opinions, sick of Mikey-

“I’m a little tired, I guess,” Mikey says with a shrug, keeping his swells of anger well and hidden. No one needs to hear those things. They’re… not him, not okay to show to people.

Anger is gross. It hurts people and it hurts for Mikey to have. Better he just never show it at all.

Leatherhead’s hand on his shell is welcomed, because it gives Mikey something to focus on that’s not his own stupid, stupid emotions. “If you are too tired to stay out much later, we can leave,” Leatherhead offers with a rumble. “You are going through a very trying time, Michelangelo. We won’t ask you to push yourself unnecessarily.”

The obvious and warm comfort leatherhead is extending to Mikey gives him the strength to push down the anger, to shove it far far far down where it can’t touch him anymore or poison his thoughts. And he smiles for his friend. “Nah, I’m good,” Mikey says, normal and bright again. “It’s actually ‘cause I’m so craving some of that soup there, so gimme gimme, Mondo!”

Mondo beams, and brings over the bowl and platter to Mikey. “I’ve been workin’ on the recipe for weeks, bro,” Mondo says proudly, squaring his small shoulders and presenting the dish. His thick tail waves happily behind him as he does. “Mr. Murakami’s been great about it, too. I didn’t even know about half the ingredients he showed me!”

“That is because they are spices, and most Americans do not seem to know about those things,” Murakami says with a laugh.

Mikey grins, and takes the hot bowl of soup off the platter to sip from it. Spoons are kind of useless for him pretty often, because most ones are so teeny tiny in his hands and never manage to hold all the food he needs them to and hey, maybe there really was something  to his brothers always saying he has a big mouth.

The soup burns his tongue a bit. Mikey swallows it anyways, because it burns less than the resurging anger in him.

But if he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t speak it, it’s not actually there. And he’s sticking to that.

“Delicious, more please!” Mikey exclaims, holding the empty bowl out to Mondo. He hadn’t even tasted it, really. He’s not tasting much of anything right now.

Mondo beams again with all his little white teeth, and rushes off to fill up Mikey’s bowl. At least Mikey’s friend is happy, even though he doesn’t have parents either. They’d tossed him out the moment he’d shown his mutated face, and Mikey… still feels kinda bad for the guy. Sure Mondo’s got the Mutanimals, and Leatherhead is an A++ old man to chill with, but… it ain’t anything close to having a mom or dad. Mikey doesn’t know how Mondo could lose that and keep going-

Oh wait.

Yeah he does.

For a moment, grief overtakes the anger, and Mikey swims in his rush of sheer loss.

His dad, tall and forever untouchable, always there always strong always watching- unbeatable. Except no he wasn’t. He got killed, same as anyone else could, and he wasn’t actually always there, wasn’t always watching, wasn’t always… his dad.

His dad had been more so his Sensei, and Mikey had never been his favorite student. Ever.

Well, there goes his grief, and in its place-

Hello, anger, Mikey thinks dark and bitterly, long time no see.

And he swallows it all back down again, and does his best to ignore and pretend and space out in the right way that’s expected of him. He plays at being the Mikey he’s supposed to be- bright, cheerful, silly, perfectly happy all the time- and doesn’t let slip again for the rest of the night.

He hates being angry, and he hates showing it even more. Especially to his friends. They don’t deserve that, not when they’ve stayed with him the whole while since he and Donnie broke up their family. Anger hurts people, and Mikey doesn’t want to hurt any of his friends. At all.

But maybe he doesn’t hide it as well as he thought- which is weird, because none of his brothers have ever noticed- and Leatherhead stops him as they part for the night.

“If you will not talk to me about what’s troubling you,” Leatherhead says, keeping his voice low enough the still talking Mondo and Murakami can’t hear. “Then please talk to Donatello, at least. Your brother will listen, Michelangelo. It’s what family is for.”

A momentary, and very inappropriate, bubble of laughter tries to escape Mikey. Yeah, right. When did any of his brothers listen to him?

Donnie does, has been, he’s trying, Mikey reminds himself forcefully. Donnie is trying, and it’s just Mikey’s who’s not speaking about some of his crappy thoughts.

Maybe he should try talking about the anger, just a little.

“I… guess,” Mikey says finally, awkwardly skirting having to outright admit he’s got something bothering him. “I dunno. If Donnie’s up for it? Maybe.”

Leatherhead gives him a great big hug, just for that, and Mikey tries to hold onto the affection of that gesture rather than the squirming emotions in his chest.

Mikey exchanges fist bumps with Mondo and Murakami before he goes, and he grins like he doesn’t have weird exhaustion and aches tugging at his body. He heads back to the station, following the new paths he’s been familiarizing himself with for quickest travel from their new home. It’s late in the night, nearing morning, and even though Mikey doesn’t really want to…

He’ll give talking a shot. He’s talked about other hard stuff, mostly with Leatherhead, so how much harder could this topic be? Never mind that he hates even thinking about it, right down into his bones, and never mind that he doesn’t think Donnie even knows how angry Mikey can get.

Never mind all that; they’re on a fresh start, a blank slate, a brand new adventure where it’s just them and they actually talk instead of poking and snapping all the time.

Mikey brings up his confidence with shaky force- it’s getting harder to do that lately and he has no idea why- and ducks into his new home to share something with his brother. Something he’s been ignoring and hiding and pretending doesn’t exist at all for a long, long time.

The smell of alcohol hits him immediately.

And then he finds his brother. And Casey.

And Mikey can’t compute the situation he’s seeing before him.

And then the anger comes back, bright and hateful, and Mikey barely, just barely bites it all down into submission again.

Donnie brought Casey into their home, without telling Mikey. He got drunk and then passed out with their friend, the one night Mikey was really going to talk to him. He trashed their living room that Mikey helped build with him, like it didn’t mean anything at all.

Donnie is well and truly asleep, and Mikey stands alone in the dark with bitter, bitter anger on his tongue. His brother won’t be listening to him at all tonight, obviously.

Mikey snarls without sound, and storms out of the living room. Leaving Donnie and Casey to the fun they’d gone and had without him, and carelessly slamming his door shut behind him.

He crawls into his bed without bothering to brush his teeth, or get Donnie and Casey into actual places to sleep, or even covering them up with blankets so they don’t freeze on the floor-

-and he ignores all those things he should be doing, and instead tries not to let the twisting, snarling knots in his chest keep him awake all day.

    Mikey wakes up the next evening, and feels like a dick.

It’s not Donnie’s fault Mikey was having a crappy night. He didn’t know Mikey was going to try talking about gross stuff he’s never even hinted about before. And heck, like anyone can keep Casey from doing what he wants, including worming his way into your home and starting a party.

Donnie and Casey are still passed out where Mikey left them last night, and he sighs at the both of them. There’s only a faint hint of his residual frustration, and it’s easily enough ignored. He starts by waking Donnie up, and from there he does his best to forget he’d ever been so mad at his brother.

Mikey starts poking at the mess Donnie and Casey made, while the two of them go have a private moment as Donnie sees Casey off, and he finds a mostly still full bottle of alcohol.

He stares at it, lying on the carpet with its cap on and most of its liquid safely inside. He considers it for a moment, wondering what he should do.

Then he picks it up, and puts it in his room before Donnie comes back. Why he does, he’s not really sure. It probably has to do with the dull buzz of hurt he’s still got; because even though he’s trying not to be, he’s frustrated Donnie called Casey over and had a party together without even bothering to text it was happening.

Mikey feels left out and more than a little ignored. He hasn’t felt that in a few weeks, and it’s not a fun thing to feel again.

It feels too much like how it felt at home, in the lair, with their brothers, with their father- and Mikey shoves the hurt anger deep, deep down into himself and forces his brain to forget about it.

Donnie didn’t do it on purpose. Probably. Casey tended to whip Donnie into all sorts of moods and frenzies, and who could focus on anything else when hurricane Jones was blowing through? Not Donnie, that’s for sure.

And then Casey calls Mikey, when he’s wandering the kitchen and looking for any other leftover alcohol, and Mikey suddenly feels like even more of a dick.

“He says it’s his fault your- fuck, that he’s the reason your dad is dead,” Casey says in a low, harsh voice; putting stones and glass in Mikey’s stomach. Gone is Casey’s vagueness from earlier, the maintained hungover humor that he and Donnie have been sharing. Maybe he hadn’t been as out of it as Mikey had thought. “He cried all over the place, Mike. All over me, and you know it’s bad if he’s done that. Did you know about any of that shit?”

Mikey’s head is kinda tilting a direction he doesn’t like, and he has to swallow around a lump in his throat. “No,” He says, somehow still steady. “I didn’t know that… at all.”

“Well. He spent like half the night talking about it, so I think it’d be a good idea you make ‘im talk about it again. Other stuff, too. Bad stuff.”

“What bad stuff?” Mikey asks, and a part of him doesn’t want to hear the answer. And he’s right, he doesn’t want to hear about how Donnie’s been keeping all these things in; blaming himself for their dad’s death, Leo’s coma, and countless other things Mikey is pretty sure he had no control over. And yet, Donnie had said it was all his fault, and slapped a claim over some of the worst shit that keeps Mikey awake most days.

Donnie hadn’t been having a party with Casey. He’d been having a vent session that should’ve happened months ago.

Mikey wonders why Donnie never told him the things he’d told Casey. He wonders that, while listening as Casey rambles on about things Donnie had said, about things he’s going to go yell at their brothers, and Mikey arrives to a conclusion.

Donnie still doesn’t trust him, doesn’t think Mikey could handle hearing those things.

An insidious whisper in his brain says it’s because Donnie thinks he’s too stupid to get it, too much the youngest brother to understand big things like self-blame and grief and shitty thoughts.

Mikey stomps on that thought and ignores it.

He takes Casey’s advice, after hearing what his friend swears is just the bare bones of what Donnie’s got all smushed up inside him, and corners his brother immediately. They are talking, and then they are hugging, and Mikey is going to show Donnie he’s perfectly capable of handling this.

Except.

He’s not sure he actually can.

Because when Mikey finally gets Donnie onto the couch, listening and waiting, and he actually hears what Donnie has to say… he falters.

Mikey hadn’t known about any of these things, hadn’t even thought they might exist. Hadn’t thought about how much pressure they’d been placing on Donnie, or how Leo’s words and their father’s words and all of their words had hurt him so much. He’d known it’d been hard, but…

He hadn’t known just how hard it really was. Not entirely.

Maybe Mikey played a part in those things- twitchy and ignorant and just doing whatever the hell he pleased because hey, he was always getting scolded anyways, what was one more brother yelling at him- but largely it’d been their brothers. Their father.

And Mikey’s anger burns.

Because Donnie, who is always tall, always unfaltering in his dedication and hard work, is just too wrung out to give much more. He says in a wavering voice that there’s just not enough of him left. And he’s hunching over his knees, words tumbling out fast and painful, and the way his voice cracks is breaking Mikey’s heart and nearly his control.

Donnie is missing his mask and has bags under his eyes and looks pale as they physically can be and is just so sad. And Mikey isn’t sure how to fix that. He isn’t sure how to respond to Donnie’s words, his stories about how long he’s been alone and hurting and feeling like no one loved him, and Mikey’s sadness and anger and whirling confusion fight each other in his head.

Regret makes its way out of the fight, and Mikey pulls Donnie into the tightest, most loving hug he can manage while he represses every other thought he’s been having. Donnie’s abrupt break down is the priority right now, not Mikey’s steadily growing anger issues.

Donnie actually sobs for a bit, and it’s the worst sound Mikey never ever wanted to hear. Donnie is just so broken sounding, the way he’s talking about always feeling tired, and always wishing things would just stop for a while so he could actually rest for once. He’s shaking and still crying and Mikey can’t do anything other than cling tighter to his brother and say he loves him, and he’s sorry.

It takes a while, and a lot of very tight clinging on Mikey’s (useless) part, and then Donnie drags himself back together enough to wipe away his tears. He manages a weak smile at the lame sounding reassurances from Mikey- “Don’t worry, Dee. If you’re really that tired, I swear I’ll do your half of the dishes tonight.”- and then, with Mikey’s encouragement, goes to make a phone call he really needs to.

They don’t talk about Mikey at all. Mikey doesn’t try to bring his own emotions into things, period.

Donnie can’t handle that, not right now. Mikey’s stupid feelings aren’t big enough to need talking about yet; and they are stupid, because why is he bothering with stuff that he’s already kind of talked about with Leatherhead, and then sworn he wouldn’t think about anymore.

Donnie’s got his own problems, and he’s the one in need of help right now. Not Mikey. Mikey won’t put yet another burden on Donnie’s shoulders, not after hearing about all the other ones that’ve been making him into atlas.

Mikey’s fine on his own, so he’ll keep to himself what he’d wanted to talk to Donnie about.

    Mikey gets more nightmares than he wants to admit.

He’s always had a super active imagination, and it shows in just how vivid and detailed his dreams can get. Sometimes it’s neat, and he enjoys being able to recount every step and turn his dream self takes while he sleeps.

But sometimes it sucks. Really, really sucks.

Like dreaming he’s back in that moment, on that night, and watching his dad fall off a building and not get back up.

Mikey can’t jolt himself awake, even though he knows he’s dreaming, he knows this is just a stupid memory, and he has to watch his dad fall and hit the ground with a horrible, horrible thud and he’s too slow, too slow to do anything, because his dad’s chest is already torn open and gushing blood and he’s not even breathing anymore he’s just gone and they’re too late too late and it was all pointless and he was just too slow-

And Mikey’s lungs falter as he falls out of the nightmare, and he can’t do anything other than cough and gasp for a solid minute.

He’s crying. He’s crying and everything hurts just as much as it did in that moment. The realization that his unbeatable father had been beaten, and that he wasn’t coming back this time. Splinter is gone, and they won’t be getting anymore miracles.

Mikey used to think everything would work itself out, no matter what happened. They’d always find a way, always beat the odds. Always go home together. Always have their dad.

In the end, they lost to the odds, broke their home, and buried their father.

Leo had said they’d won the battle, ended the war. In Mikey’s opinion, he thinks they lost it completely.

After all, what did the Shredder have left to lose at that point? Karai didn’t want him, the Foot had abandoned him, and it’d just been him and his hench-guys. Mikey and his family are the ones who lost everything, not the Shredder.

Mikey sniffles, and wipes his tears onto his pillow. Turning into the dull comfort he gets from having privacy to feel like shit, and sheets that still have a slight scent of his old room.

He considers for a moment, going to Donnie and asking to talk about their dad, about how he misses Splinter even though he’d been so absent in the last few years, but Mikey doesn’t move to get up.

Donnie is still recovering, and it’s just a stupid dream, just some stupid feelings.

Mikey’s nearly an adult now, he can handle some dumb nightmares on his own. He has for… years. Since the war had started to get bad. He hadn’t gone crying to his brothers for- mockery, scorn, dismissal- for comfort then, and he won’t now. Especially since Donnie is still precariously balanced with his own issues.

Mikey rolls over; smearing the last of his tears onto his pillow, and shuts his eyes to will himself back to sleep.

    Mikey keeps out of Donnie’s way for a while, but also circles his brother and does whatever Donnie needs him to.

Whether it’s taking a bit more of their shared chores, or being extra quiet that night, or just stepping out of the station for a bit to go burn off aggravating energy so he doesn’t bother Donnie- Mikey does it, and tries to be everything he hasn’t been over the years.

He wants to be a good brother, especially right now. He wants to mend the relationship he has with Donnie, and make it stronger than before. No more driving Donnie into break downs, please. Mikey’s seen enough of that for a lifetime and then some.

Sure, Mikey is still struggling with nightmares and frustrations and anger, but he’s got a handle on that. No sweat, he’s been doing this long enough now he’s an expert.

Except.

Text messages still come from their brothers, even though Mikey has noticed they’re slowing down. But it’s still enough. And with the weeks still pilling on- six, six weeks now and counting- they’re getting more desperate. More angry.

Raph is so mad at him, so scared for him; he wants them both back home and safe again. Where he and Leo can watch out for them.

Raph is also confused, and wants to know what the hell they’ve been telling their friends. Apparently, none of their friends want to talk to Mikey’s brothers anymore, and Raph and Leo just don’t get why.

Mikey reads a text that’s damn close to a plead, begging Mikey and Donnie to reply and at least call them- and Mikey has a horribly inappropriate moment of sharp laughter.

The laughter happens again when he finds a text from Leo, talking about how disappointed their father would have been, the two of them running away without explanation and turning all their friends against their brothers.

It happens a third time, when Raph leaves a breathlessly furious voicemail, about Casey and April turning on him and Leo and how Donnie and Mikey are still missing- and Mikey just can’t anymore.

He throws his phone across his room, not giving two shits about the sound of hitting the wall, and barks one more laugh before breaking into a muffled scream.

He’s just so angry at them all.

They don’t even see it, and its right in front of them, and they still don’t see it. They don’t get that they hurt Donnie, hurt Mikey, and that no, they’re not coming home no matter what their brothers plead and yell at them. That their dad was a neglectful asshole who only ever paid attention to them, and Mikey is having a hard time balancing that jealousy with his grief these days and it’s just turning into one big mess of anger.

He used to be so good about keeping his emotions under control. Only the happy ones were ever allowed out, or the sad ones in the right moments when it was okay to cry and whine a bit. Not anger. Never anger.

Raph gets to be angry, but not Mikey. Mikey has to be the happy one, the silly one, the stupid one-

Mikey bites his lips hard, and muffles his furious scream into his hands.

Why is it suddenly getting so hard to keep the anger out? Or rather, keep it in. Why is it suddenly such an issue to control a stupid, hurtful emotion he doesn’t even like having?

So his brothers still want them back. So they’re still looking for them. Great, good for them.

Mikey’s head is buzzing with anger, and he has nowhere to aim it, so it just keeps buzzing.

They don’t get what they did. Raph and Leo. Can’t tell or acknowledge it even with their whole friend group being pretty clear about things. Mikey doesn’t think they’d get it even if he screamed it in their faces.

They want them back home, ‘safe’ with them and under their watch again. The thought makes Mikey’s scales crawl and bile rise up in his throat. Because no. No more.

And maybe their father would’ve been disappointed- so what? He was always disappointed in Mikey anyways, getting distracted and unable to follow what was happening and just being a general nuisance that interrupted Splinter’s time with Raph and Leo. Mikey doesn’t care right now what their father would’ve thought- he’s dead and he can’t give Mikey infuriatingly distant looks of disappointment anymore.

Mikey misses his dad, misses his brothers, misses how things used to be-

-but right now, he’s more so angry about all those things, and tries to keep silent as the rancid emotions claw at him for release.

He doesn’t let them get that release.

He shoves his phone back under his bed, again, and has to ignore it for three days straight just to get his head back on right.

    “It wasn’t your fault, Donnie. You can’t keep blaming yourself for it.”

“Za’naron wasn’t your fault either, so you can’t blame yourself for that if I can’t blame myself for- for Splinter. Dying.”

“…that was different.”

“It wasn’t really you.”

“A part of it was, though. I’m the one who gave in.”

“Yeah. Well. I’m the one who didn’t listen when I should have. So guess we can both blame ourselves a bit.”

“Donnie…”

Mikey hovers out of sight, practicing his ability to not be, and listens to his brother and April have the same conversation they’ve been having over and over the last while.

He hears April sigh, and shift on the couch. “This isn’t healthy, Donnie,” April says gently. “You can’t keep holding onto those things, or… it’ll never get better.”

“I can and I will,” Donnie mutters stubbornly. “Because they’re true.”

“They’re not-”

“Yes they are! I’m the one-”

“You’re one kid, one person, and you had no control over what happened to master Splinter. It’s not your fault; it was never your fault.”

Donnie falls silent for a moment, and it’s a drawn out sort of silence.

“Then why…” Why do I feel like it is?

Donnie doesn’t actually say the last part, but Mikey hears it anyways. It kinda sucks how clear he can hear it, and Mikey doesn’t know what to do about it anymore than he has the last week of trying to get Donnie to feel okay again.

Donnie sighs, and it’s an exhausted sound. Mikey looks up at the ceiling of the hallway, and thinks quietly that Donnie doesn’t ever not sound exhausted.

“…I don’t have an answer, Donnie,” April says in a hushed voice. “But I know it wasn’t your fault.”

And there’s the sound Donnie’s been making on and off lately, soft and broken. Mikey shuts his eyes and tries not to hear it too well.

Donnie’s crying again, in quiet gasps as he tries to not, and Mikey opens his eyes as April starts to shush his brother. Whispered things about how they’ll get through this, it’s not Donnie’s fault, and they’ll work it out somehow, some way…

“It’s okay, Donnie. Just let it out. I got you. I got you…”

Mikey takes the moment to peek into the living room, still silent and invisible. April’s got Donnie in a hug, and Mikey’s brother is hiding his face in her shoulder. April’s words and hug already seem to be calming Donnie down, and…

She’s doing this so much better than Mikey had. April knows what she’s doing, and Mikey doesn’t. She knows what to say, what’ll calm down Donnie the quickest, and… just knows how to be a better support in general.

And Donnie seems to trust her more, too. Letting this out every time April asks him to, without complaint or protest. He’s always ready to talk to her, but not…

Not Mikey.

Mikey swallows something too close to jealousy for comfort, and turns away from his brother and friend.

They deserve some privacy. He’d just been listening in for a moment, checking in on how their latest talk was going.

But April’s clearly got this, so Mikey leaves them to it. He’ll go do some quiet exercises, maybe a run above ground for a few hours. He won’t be such an annoyance if he gets rid of his excess energy.

He takes his skateboard with him as he leaves, going through the second exit so he doesn’t disturb April or Donnie. Mikey’s got his standard equipment on him too, nunchucks, smoke bombs, etc., even though the paranoia of his brothers finding them has started to ease off.

April and Casey both know where they are now, and Mikey is seriously considering bringing Leatherhead around sometime soon; so unless someone actually shows his brothers, and Mikey doubts any of their friends will, Leo and Raph aren’t finding the station any time soon. If they could’ve, they already would have.

That comfort is a small one, though. Because eventually- and that eventually hangs heavy in the air sometimes- he and Donnie will have to talk to their brothers, if only to bring closure to the shit that drove them all apart.

Mikey doesn’t know how he’ll handle that. He doesn’t know how to approach the idea at all.

But him not knowing how to do stuff is normal enough, right?

Right.

    The station is occupied at the moment, so guess that means Mikey needs to shove off for a good while. Enough time for April and Donnie to wrap up their conversation and for Donnie to pull himself back together.

Mikey skates aimlessly for a while, not really thinking of anything in particular. He doesn’t really notice until he’s getting close, but he’d unconsciously drifted towards the Mutanimals’ hideout as he went. Mikey considers his options for a moment, and then starts heading towards Leatherhead and Mondo’s location in earnest. Spending time with the two of them should make it easy enough to shove his dumb mood aside; it’s always easier to do that for other people, instead of just himself.

He kicks his board up into his hand, and ducks in through the main entrance of the hideout. It’s not locked up, so that obviously means Mikey’s allowed to come in. His mood lifts the closer he gets to the inner rooms, and he manages to put a near spring in his step as he heads in.

Then-

He hears a voice that makes him freeze.

His heart stops and his fingers go numb, and he stands there like an idiot deer in the headlights; stuck in the last doorway into the center room of the Mutanimals’ base.

His skateboard slips from his hand. It clatters against the floor too loud to be ignored.

Raph turns around, following the sound and forgetting the conversation he’d been having with Slash.

Everything slows down, and Mikey can’t breathe.

“Mikey?” Raph says, eyes going wide. Then- “Mikey!”

And Mikey is already running by the time Raph even moves his feet.

He doesn’t even bother grabbing his skateboard, he just runs, and he doesn’t look back. Because he knows if he does-

He might listen to the things Raph is yelling after him. He might not be able to keep running away.

Raph’s voice echoes through the streets as Mikey runs, and neither of them are even trying to be stealthy anymore. There’s no reason to beyond ordinary humans maybe hearing them, and when isn’t there yelling in New York? It’s just normal, so normal no one even cares that there’s yelling outside their apartments- so why should Mikey?

With that hysterical thought in mind, Mikey pours on the speed and does his best to disappear. He blocks out Raph’s calls after him, and narrows everything down to his path ahead.

“Mikey! MIKEY! Just wait a second- where are you going?!”

Away from you! Mikey thinks, shrieks, inside his panicking mind, and then does.

He throws down a bunch of his smoke bombs, and disappears.

He leaves Raph coughing and cursing in the street below, while Mikey climbs into a boarded up building. They’re in one of the less attended to districts, so there are plenty of these buildings to find. Mikey replaces the boards across the window once he inside, and makes it look as though nothing has touched them since they went up.

He steps away from it when he’s done, tunnel vision draining away. He feels shaky in a way he hasn’t since he was fifteen and new to life or death situations. Like he’s a newbie all over again, just as inexperienced as the night he and his brothers first went out on their own.

Raph is still yelling outside. Hollering after Mikey and demanding he show himself.

Mikey takes a few more stumbling steps back from the window, and then recovers enough to become silent again.

The building he’s in looks like it used to be an apartment. Probably. All the rooms are stripped down and there’s no carpet on the rotting wooden floors.

Mikey doesn’t go farther than the back wall of the room he’s in- a kitchen, maybe- and ends up slumping against the far wall. Sinking to the floor and suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

Raph is still yelling. Still looking.

Mikey doesn’t think he’s got the concentration right now to sneak away, so he does the next best thing.

He goes quiet, and stops existing.

He stares at the window, boarded up but no sound proof, and waits for the yelling to get closer. He waits with his pulse thrumming in his ears, and lungs trying to take heaving breaths that he won’t give them.

Mikey should be standing, ready to flee, but he can’t get back up. He just sits there on the floor, and stares at the window. Terrified.

Oh god he’s so scared. And he’s such an idiot.

He should’ve checked in with the Mutanimals. He should’ve called ahead and said hey I’m dropping by, any chance the brothers I’m kind of hiding from right now are around? Yes? Thanks, I’ll make sure to avoid them. It would have been just that easy, and yet- Mikey hadn’t done it. One stupid little step, just to make sure he wouldn’t come face to face with his brother.

He’s an idiot. A complete and utter moron.

Raph’s yelling has stopped, finally.

Mikey stays where he is, curled up tightly around his knees and staring at the window as he internally berates himself.

Mikey’s not sure if he actually breathing anymore.

He isn’t sure if he wants to.

The minutes without Raph’s yelling tick by, and slowly, Mikey unwinds enough to think outside his fear and self-incrimination.

That was too close. Way too close.

He’s a fucking idiot, running around blindly like there aren’t still people looking for him. He’s always too careless, too thoughtless. Just like his brothers always told him he was.

Mikey’s made up of too much stupid and not enough caution, and he almost blew everything. If Raph had caught him, then everything he and Donnie have been building up would’ve been ruined.

Such. An idiot.

Mikey lets his head fall back against the wall that’s decades older than himself, and shuts his eyes. Listening to everything around him, and waiting.

He doesn’t manage to move again for a long while. His legs won’t respond until he’s thoroughly, thoroughly sure that his brother is gone. And then it’s just him and his shitty thoughts, all the way home.

    He doesn’t go looking for Donnie when he gets back. April is gone, he knows that much from the absence of talking in the station, but he’s not going to go to his brother. Not yet.

He’s got enough voices telling him off for his dumbass mistake already, all up in his head where he can’t escape them.

A lot of them sound like his brothers.

Mikey slams his bedroom door, because he can and he feels like it and Donnie isn’t the type to go looking for reasons behind slamming doors. It’s just a sign of which part of the house you should be avoiding right then.

And that curdles Mikey’s stomach. The thought that even though they’re working so hard to change, he’s still using the same tactics they did at home. Still acting like their siblings.

Well, too late to un-slam it now. He’s already gone and done it. Just like he went and nearly got caught. Just two more mistakes he can’t take back.

His t-phone has been pinging with texts nonstop, one or two calls going straight to voicemail. Mikey doesn’t bother looking at the messages, and turns the thing off completely. It goes under the mattress right after.

He sits in his room, by his bed and with only one lamp on, and isn’t sure what to do next.

He has to tell Donnie. And even if he doesn’t, Donnie’s probably already gotten a rush of texts from one or both of their brothers about it. Donnie probably already knows, and is probably already angry at Mikey.

Well fuck him; Mikey’s already angry at himself. He doesn’t need anyone else yelling at him, because he’s got plenty in his head as is.

The anger bubbling in the back of his throat makes his head hurt, and Mikey shuts his eyes. He puts his head between his hands, and pushes hard against the sides of his skull. The dull buzz in it keeps up, and he just ends up feeling like he’s got a headache.

He drops his hands, and stares at the wall across from him. Shame and frustration join the anger, and he starts to feel twitchy.

He’s such a fucking idiot. He knew it before this, and he knows it even better now. The whole experience is just a repeat of every other fuck up Mikey’s ever made, and hey, it’s even worse this time because he’d been actively trying to not fuck up the last while.

Before he didn’t care. Because that was normal and he couldn’t escape it no matter what he tried. He cares a lot more now, because he likes not being yelled at all the time; likes not getting smacked over the head or insulted every time he so much as breathes.

He likes spending time with a brother that’s not constantly angry, or disappointed, or annoyed at him. One that doesn’t treat him like he’s useless or a hang on or just the moronic youngest brother that no one wants around.

But it looks like that’s about to change.

And maybe he deserves that, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate it.

Mikey’s hand brushes something hard and cold underneath his bed, and he looks down. The bottle of tequila, which he’d previously wrapped up in a wad of towel he’d left in his room, is peeking out from under its hiding space.

Mikey looks at it, and considers what he should do.

On impulse- because that’s all he ever does, acts on stupid stupid stupid impulses- he pulls it out and uncaps it.

If Donnie can drink, then so can he. And if his brother doesn’t like it, then whatever. Mikey’s already going to be in shit, so might as well add one more thing for Donnie to yell at him about.

The first sip makes him choke, because it tastes like the stuff he uses to clean the kitchen.

It burns all the way down, and Mikey coughs for a solid few seconds as his eyes water.

He takes another sip anyways.

Mikey drinks most of what was left in the bottle- which was a fair amount, considering how much Donnie and Casey had seemed to have drunk- and then sits in his room feeling even shittier than before.

It’s not fair. Why is that he’s the fuck up? He’s not the one who was always shouting at people or ordering them around. He’s not the one who put all his attention into two sons and not the others. He’s not the one who gave unsubtle looks of disappointment or slipped barbs into his words every time he spoke about one specific person. He’s not the one who hits people.

Mikey’s not the one at fault for all that stuff. He’s not the one who did all that. And what did he do to deserve all that shit anyways? When had he fucked up so horribly that no one could even talk to him anymore without insulting him?

Why did his brothers hate him so much? Mikey didn’t do anything wrong, he just is how he is and he can’t change that. Couldn’t then and can’t now and won’t, because what’s wrong with wanting to think about nicer stuff? What’s wrong with wanting to lighten the situation when everything is a great big pile shit constantly, and none of them have had a night without fighting in years?

What the hell is so wrong with Mikey that everything he says has to get shut down or ignored? At what point did everything he said just become nonsense to everyone else? At what point did he get designated as everyone’s verbal and physical punching bag?

Fuck them. Fuck them all.

Mikey’s head aches with all the fury he’s channeling, and he’s not sure when he left his room.

It figures that Donnie comes out of his lab, for once, just in time to meet Mikey in the hallway.

Donnie has his phone in his hands, and he looks up at Mikey with wide eyes. Mikey knows what Donnie’s going to say before he does, and Mikey glowers at his brother.

“You- you almost got caught?” Donnie asks, and they both know there’s no need to give context to that statement. Donnie’s lips go thin, and he closes a hand around his phone. “Mikey, that was way too close. Are you-”

“Shut up,” Mikey bites out, cutting his brother off from almost definitely saying ‘are you stupid?’ “I know already, don’t bother telling me off for it.” His head feels wrong and soupy with anger and alcohol, and he just doesn’t have any filter left. “Just- just leave me alone! I know I fucked up!”

Donnie looks at him, rising out of a half hunch. He spots the bottle Mikey had forgotten he was still clutching. “You’re drinking the tequila” Donnie says, lips tugging downwards, and there’s the disappointment Mikey was expecting. “Mikey, you shouldn’t be doing that. It’s-”

“It’s what?” Mikey barks, because he doesn’t care, he’s already going to be in trouble and he doesn’t care if he gets in more for talking back. “It’s stupid? Thanks, I kind of already knew that, so piss off!”

Donnie is looking at him with apprehension now, and slowly crossing his arms. “No, I was I going to say that it’s a depressant, and it’s not a good thing to be drinking when you’re not emotionally balanced. Mikey, that wasn’t a good idea.”

Mikey’s laughter comes out of his throat in a way that hurts, and he does not care. “You always say that about- about whatever I decide to do,” Mikey says, biting and furious and so far beyond giving a shit. “All of you do! You all just shit on me for everything I sug- suggest doing, and then you call me stupid for even thinking the ideas! So fuck you, fuck you and your long- long stupid words, I don’t give a shit anymore!”

Donnie’s eyes are wide, and his mouth has dropped open. “Mikey, is that what you think I’m-”

“I don’t care what you’re on about, I don’t care!” Mikey cuts him off, swinging his arm through the air in a harsh gesture. “None of you ever cared what I was on about, so why should I give a shit about you?”

Donnie’s arms come uncrossed, and Mikey takes a quick step backwards to get out of range. Bad idea, because everything tilts as he does, and he stumbles. Mikey feels that Donnie is still looking at him, and he knows if he looks back he’ll see disappointment, maybe annoyance, maybe any of the other countless looks his brothers always give him when he’s acting particularly stupid.

“Mikey, we should sit down,” Donnie says, slow and careful like he’s trying to explain things to Mikey in a way he’ll get it. Like he’s an idiot. “If you need to… talk about this, we should.”

“You never listen, none of you do,” Mikey mutters, and he, acting on impulse for the umpteenth time tonight, tries to bring the tequila to his lips.

Donnie’s hand stops his rising arm.

Mikey snarls, and yanks his hand away. Or, tries to, but Donnie’s hand has formed a vicelike grip on his arm and won’t let go.

“Mikey- Mikey stop and think for a second, this isn’t helping, you’re just making it worse-”

Always worse, he’s always just making it worse and screwing things up because he’s an IDIOT, because he can’t get anything RIGHT-

-never thinks never plans never does anything except make stupid stupid stupid mistakes-

-no wonder none of them wanted him around, they all think he’s useless and a nuisance and just plain stupid-

“Shut up!” Mikey shouts, yanking against Donnie’s grip again. He hates being held in place, he hates being held against his will, he hates it when people grab him like this because it’s always followed by a- “Let me go! You don’t- you don’t even care-”

“Mikey, just let me talk to you, we’ll- we just need to sit down, you’re not making any sense-”

“You always say that!” Mikey screams, still unable to free his arm, still stuck in place and unable to escape- “All of you! You- you all think I’m an idiot! I’m not; I’m not an idiot so stop talking to me like I am-”

Donnie’s hands grip tighter around Mikey’s arm, and just get tighter even as Mikey tugs and tugs and tugs to get away, and-

“Mikey- just listen for two seconds-”

-Mikey’s other arm is still free-

“-I’m just trying to help you-”

-and Donnie still won’t let go, and he’s still yelling everyone’s yelling and Mikey can’t get away.

He gives one last yank on his arm-

-it doesn’t come free-

-and he raises his other arm, and-

-Donnie’s voice and hands and everything too much too much-

-Mikey’s fist makes contact with Donnie’s cheek.

The tequila falls out of both their hands, and hits the floor with a dull thud. Its open top spills what was left of it onto the throw carpet they’d laid out in the hallway.

Its making the spot by Donnie’s feet wet. The spot where Donnie’s feet are, which lead up to his legs, which lead up to his shell-

-which is on the floor, because Mikey hit Donnie hard enough he fell over.

Everything slows down, as Donnie stares up at Mikey. Eyes wide with shock, and confusion, and hurt.

Mikey can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. His hand hurts and he can’t breathe.

Donnie slowly raises a shaking hand to his cheek, and blinks at the pain of touching it.

And Mikey-

Mikey howls.

He fucked up.

He fucked up he fucked up he fucked up he fucked up he fucked up hefuckeduphefuckeduphefuckeduphe is the fuck up-

Donnie’s eyes go even wider, and he struggles to stand up fast enough. “Mikey, Mikey no-”

Mikey stumbles back- out of range out of reach- and his scream cuts off as he does- shut up shut up no one wants to hear- and he runs.

His door slams behind him, and he locks it with numb fingers. Shaking fingers. Fingers that can make a fist that he used to hit his brother.

It’s not the same as training. It’s not the same because he’d done it outside the dojo, outside a spar, outside of a battle, during a real fight between them and with intent to hurt.

Donnie’s own fists hit the door the second he’s locked it, and Mikey hears the knob shake as his brother tries to get inside. Donnie is yelling and Mikey can’t hear any of it, his heart and mind already too loud as he backs away from the shuddering frame.

“Mikey- Mikey please, open the door. Open the door- I know you didn’t mean it, so please-”

Mikey shakes his head at the door, and keeps backing away until his shell hits the wall. He slowly, agonizingly slowly, sinks to the floor, and sits. And stares.

His hands are shaking still. He can still feel the impact of punching Donnie.

Mikey inhales sharply, and feels like something is cracking.

Nothing changed. He left with Donnie and tried to do better and nothing changed. He’s still a fuck up, they’re both still broken, and he hit his brother.

He got angry, and let his anger out, and someone got hurt.

Someone always gets hurt when anger is let out. Usually it’s Mikey who gets hurt. Usually it’s Raph who lets it out.

Mikey let go of his control, and Donnie got hurt.

He’s just like his brother. He’s just like Raph, except worse, because Mikey was actually trying.

And Mikey feels sick.

“Mikey! MIKEY! Open the door! God damn it- OPEN THE DOOR-”

Mikey puts his hands over his mouth, and feels burning tears spill out of his eyes.

Donnie’s wide and hurt eyes play through his mind again, and a choked sob finds its way up his throat.

“Please, oh god, please open the door Mikey. Please, please open the door-”

Mikey can’t move and won’t let himself move.

He’s not opening that door. He’s not opening it or exposing Donnie to- to Mikey again.

Donnie’s stopped banging on the door, and there’s nothing making sound anymore except for Mikey’s hyperventilation.

He still can’t breathe. He’s sucking in air and he still can’t breathe.

There’s nothing except that for a long, long moment, and then Donnie’s cracking voice comes through the door again.

“Mikey, please. Open the door. I’m- I’m scared of what you’re thinking right now. Please… I know you di-didn’t mean it-”

Donnie’s voice breaks and Mikey feels something in him do the same.

“…oh god, I don’t know what I’m doing. Fuck- Mikey, I know you didn’t mean to. I’m so- I’m so sorry I held onto you like that, I-I-I was panicking, and you were upset and I… I didn’t know what else to do, Mikey…”

Mikey stifles a sob, and feels like he’s swimming in guilt. Drowning in it.

“You’re not an idiot, I nev- I wouldn’t- I’m sorry, Mikey. Oh god I’m so sorry. Please, please open the door. Please…”

Donnie is crying. He’s crying and it’s a sound Mikey never, ever wanted to hear again.

“...I’m sorry… Mikey, I’m so sorry… please open the door… I’m sorry…”

Mikey can’t take hearing that, can’t take hearing the hopeless desperation Donnie has in his voice. He just can’t.

He’s already done too much damage as it is.

Somehow, somehow, Mikey drags himself towards the door on numb legs, and fumbles with the lock.

He gets it open, and Donnie is there. Standing and staring, and blinking thick tears out of his eyes.

Mikey’s own tears respond in sympathy, and fall down to dampen his mask even more. “I’m sorry,” He says, hoarse and shaking and so, so sorry. His breathing hitches and he feels himself crumpling. “ ‘m sorry.”

Donnie takes a sharp inhale, and the sound conveys so many things all at once, emotions and thoughts and actions-

-and then he grabs Mikey in a hug.

Mikey’s arms, without his permission, grab Donnie back and don’t let go.

They take a few stumbling steps backwards, and somehow make it to the floor against the hallway wall. It’s just the two of them tangled together, stubbornly stupidly refusing to let go of each other. There’s no one else here to see anything, or make judgements, or be angry at anyone.

It’s just them, and Mikey’s big brother is still holding onto him like a lifeline that’ll disappear the moment he lets it.

And Mikey sobs.

 He mashes his face into Donnie’s neck and shoulder and sobs. Because he’s so sorry, he’s so so so sorry. He didn’t mean to, he didn’t want to, he’d never do that- except he did and he’s sorry-

“Shh, shh shh shh, it’s okay, Mikey its okay, I’m fine it’s fine-”

-he’s not him, he’s not him-

“You’re not, Mikey you’re not Raph, you’re just-”

-no he worse he’s a fuck up that none of them ever wanted, ever liked, ever loved-

“-you’re not, you’re not a fuck up. I- I love you and you’re not a- shh shh shh, you’re not, I swear you’re not. Mikey, Mikey look at me, look at me.”

Donnie’s hands turn Mikey’s face upwards, and for a moment Mikey’s instincts scream at the sudden touch, but it’s just Donnie. It’s Donnie. And his brother is looking at him with nothing but concern and grief and love.

“Mikey, you’re not- you’re not stupid, or a fuck up, or-” Donnie breaks off, blinking gloss out of his eyes. “-or unwanted. You’re my brother and I love you, I’ve always loved you. Every- every damn second of our lives, I’ve loved you and I never felt otherwise.”

Mikey stares at his brother, trying to process the words Donnie is saying. “Then why-” Mikey’s voice breaks and his eyes blur even worse. “-then why did you always- always call me an idiot, or- or stupid, or tell you didn’t want me- me anywhere n-near you-” He can’t see anything at all and everything hurts. “-why did all of you say that you didn’t want me-”

Mikey’s voice gives out, and he starts sobbing again. Thick and horrible tears rolling down into his mask that he shoves out of the way to mash at his eyes and wipe away his stupid, stupid weakness-

-and Donnie’s arms just pull him closer.

Mikey just sobs harder, words and thoughts tumbling out as he cries. And Donnie just keeps holding him.

His brother is making shushing sounds, running a hand up and down Mikey’s shell while he does. Mikey thinks his brother is saying things like “I always wanted you” and “I’m sorry” and “Mikey, I love you, I love you-” but Mikey’s head and heart are too loud to let anything real come through.

Mikey just keeps crying and crying and crying. Until he’s done.

Then they sit there, cramped in a desperate two way clutch. Mikey’s vision finally clears itself, and his head and eyes and pretty much everything else hurt.

He can see the spilled tequila, all the way at the end of the hall. And then he feels sick again.

Distantly, he feels Donnie’s arms tighten around him again as his breath hitches in a half sob.

Even more distantly, Mikey thinks about how none of his family has done this is years. He loves Leatherhead, downright adores his friend, but it’s not the same as getting a cuddle from his brothers. From his father.

Mikey doesn’t remember the last time his dad even hugged him.

That brings another fresh wave of grief and anger and sorrow up from his core, and Mikey shudders as he tries to shove it all back down. “Why didn’t- why didn’t dad- why didn’t he love me?” Mikey chokes out. “Why didn’t any of you love me? Al-always calling me stupid, or- or telling me to leave, or saying you didn’t want me around- and he never- he didn’t even expect me to do well at anything, he just- just waited all the time for me to fail-”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Donnie says, low and fast, clutching Mikey closer. “But I’m sorry. Mikey, I’m so, so sorry. You’re great. You’re amazing. You’re smart and good and I love you, okay? Don’t think otherwise. Please, please don’t think otherwise. I can’t- I don’t- I don’t know what to do, Mikey. I’m- I’m just sorry and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Donnie presses a kiss to Mikey’s forehead, a gesture he barely feels, and his brother says “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Mikey-” in a hushed voice, like it’s a prayer. Donnie says it again and again, and Mikey just turns his head into his brother’s shoulder and lets himself be held.

They don’t leave the hallway for a long time.

    “…I had a handle on it,” Mikey says, hours later and with a voice that hurts. Shame is still running a throbbing tempo behind his eyes, in pulse with his headache. “I. I don’t like being angry. I don’t even like having anger; let alone… talking about it.”

Donnie’s quiet presence, on the other end of the couch, leaves the air open for Mikey to continue. And he does. “It’s… it’s nasty, and it makes me feel gross, and…” Mikey blinks away memories that rise up. Memories from before they’d left. “People get hurt when you- when you let it out. ‘s why I never do. And besides… Raph’s the angry one. I’m the… stupid one.”

“You’re not, though,” Donnie says, and that’s one of the few things he’s said while Mikey gets things out. “You’re just as smart as the rest of us, and Raph’s just an asshole.”

Mikey scoffs. “Not as smart as you.”

“That’s-” Donnie sighs, and shifts his position on the couch. “That’s different. We went over that already.”

Mikey ducks his head, and can’t look at his brother. Another thought rises up in him, and he speaks it. “How come you didn’t talk to me about…” Mikey waffles between how he should address their deceased parent. Splinter? Sensei? Whatever. “…our father. How come you talked to Casey and April, but not… me.”

Donnie is quiet for too long, and Mikey’s stomach twists. He knew it, he knew it- “It’s because you don’t think I’m smart enough to get it, right?”

“Wha- no!” Donnie exclaims, starting out of his silence. Mikey still won’t look at him, even as his brother moves closer. “Mikey, I didn’t want to talk to anyone about that. I- I just- Casey made me, okay? And April is… April. She asked, and he forced me to, and it’s just…” Donnie seems to search for the right words, for once, and it takes another beat before he does. “It’s just different with them, alright? And it’s nothing to do with you. It was just… easier, somehow. And… truthfully, I never wanted any of you to know what I thought about our father. Especially you, Mikey.”

“…why especially me?” Mikey asks warily. He’s not sure if he wants to hear the answer, or any of the following insults.

“Mikey, could you look at me?”

Mikey lifts his head slowly, and cautiously meets his brother’s eyes. Donnie looks tired, red eyed in a different way than normal. But he’s also giving a weakly encouraging smile.

“I didn’t want you to know especially… because you were the only brother I had left,” Donnie says, and his smile nearly slips for a moment, in turn with the flash of regret and grief in his eyes. “I didn’t want to- to tell you what I’d caused, if you hadn’t figured it out already, because I didn’t want to lose you too. I- I thought if I told you, you’d… stop wanting to be here with me.”

Mikey blinks, and finds himself shaking his head in jerky shakes. “No- no I’d- I wouldn’t leave you, Dee,” Mikey says, because he wouldn’t, not now not ever- “I wouldn’t do that.”

They’ve already lost so many people; he couldn’t turn his back on Donnie now.

“I know,” Donnie says, wincing in on himself. “But tell that to my anxiety.”

A part of Mikey knows he’s supposed to laugh a bit at that, maybe crack a joke of his own… but he’s all out of that stuff right now. He’s too tired.

He can do something else, though.

“I don’t blame you,” Mikey says, abruptly enough that Donnie seems confused for a second. He pushes on anyways. “I don’t blame you for Splinter dying, or what happened to our family. So don’t think I do, or ever would.”

Donnie just stares at him for a long breath, and then his shoulders slowly slump. In relief, not despair. It’s so much better than the slump he has when he’s given up.

“Okay,” Donnie says, and Mikey can hear the resounding relief in his brother’s voice. Donnie nods his head, and blinks away wetness in his eyes. “Okay. Thank- thank you, Mikey.”

The last part comes out as a whisper, and Mikey nods slowly. He thinks Donnie is also exhausted from all the emotional feelings talk, and Mikey is right there with him. No more of that tonight.

“Can we just make dinner and go to bed now?” Mikey asks, wondering vaguely if he’ll be told off for changing the subject to food. “I think I’m all talked out.”

“You? Talked out? I never thought I’d see the day,” Donnie says with a soft laugh, only for it cut off when he sees how Mikey is shrinking on himself.

“Yeah, ha, I never do shut up, do I?” Mikey mumbles. Always talking, always rambling, always going on and on about things no one even listens to him say…

“That’s not what I meant,” Donnie says, and his hand reaches out to grab at Mikey’s- only for it to stop just before touching. Hovering there. Donnie looks at Mikey, and Mikey hears the silent question.

Mikey opens his hand, and lifts it to meet Donnie’s. Their hands clasp together tightly, and Donnie says, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to be mean. I won’t say it again.”

“…thanks,” Mikey says, swallowing down his tremulous thoughts and emotions.

Donnie’s hand tightens around his, and slowly pulls Mikey close enough for a hug. Mikey lets himself be pulled over, and wraps his arms around Donnie as his brother does the same to Mikey.

“I think that food idea is a good one,” Donnie says after a beat. “I’m pretty hungry, actually. I don’t think I ate tonight at all.”

Mikey scoffs quietly, and thumps his head against Donnie’s shoulder. “You suck at taking care of yourself, Dee. Gonna waste away one of these days.” Mikey knows that one is toeing the line, because they don’t need to actually say it to both know that if they’d stayed in the lair… there would’ve been a real chance of that happening.

Mikey hugs his brother a little tighter, and tries to push away that image.

“Mgh, don’t I know it,” Donnie mutters. He turns his head, and Mikey feels a soft kiss to his forehead. “Think instant noodles and easy vegetables would be good? I don’t have enough energy for real cooking.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mikey agrees, and he starts to pull away from their hug. Donnie stops him though, with a gentle grip on Mikey’s shoulders. Mikey glances up, and meets his brother’s eyes again.

“For the record, and from now on,” Donnie says, strong voiced and with certainty. “I don’t think you’re stupid, and I’m never calling you that again. Ever. As far as I’m concerned, the word is gone from my vocabulary now and forever.”

That startles a laugh out of Mikey. “Now that is just stupid,” Mikey says, disbelief and some kind of achy emotion running through him. “You can’t just delete that word; you use it on, like, half the problems we deal with.”

“I can and will and have,” Donnie says stubbornly. Then, tone shifting to something softer, “Mikey, I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Particularly with how I treated you. I need to make up for it, and if giving up one word that’s done more damage than I ever thought it would is something that’ll help, then I’ll give it up and never say it again for the rest of my life.” He smiles, and there’s a hint of humor to the expression. “Besides, when have you ever known me to go halfway with anything? It’s all or nothing here, and I’m going to give my all.”

Oh.

Mikey can’t find a response to that. He can’t do anything other than nod shakily as something warm and painful and loving fills up his chest, and nearly makes him start crying again.

Scratch that, he already is.

“Oh, Mikey,” Donnie says gently, and wraps Mikey in another hug. “Shhhh, it’s okay. Just let it out, it’s okay.”

Mikey sniffles pathetically, and hides in his brother’s shoulder for a while longer. He stifles the last of his tears, and somehow pulls everything back together enough to push past the old pains and breaks in himself, to look at the new things taking their place. The warm things brought to life by having his brother say that he’s sorry, and that he’ll do anything to fix what’s happened to Mikey, and how Mikey now feels like he really matters. To Donnie. Like he’s not just the brother their family never wanted, or the screw up youngest no one ever listened to. He feels like he’s loved.

It’s not a feeling he ever wants to lose again, and he tries to say that, only for it to come out incoherent and rambly. Donnie just shushes him and says he knows, he knows and they won’t. Never again.

No more hurting and being hurt.

No more.

    The tequila bottle is smashed with vigor and vengeance. Mikey whoops as he hears the glass shatter against the wall of the tunnel. It’s a good sound.

“I am never letting Jones anywhere near us with that toxic liquid ever again,” Donnie says in a matter of fact tone, accompanied with a disgusted sniff. “It brings nothing but misery and tears to anyone who drinks it.”

“True that,” Mikey says, hands on his hips and feeling much better just for that small act of destruction. Sometimes, he supposes, anger is allowed out if you do it right.

As he has come to discover- and is no longer allowed to ignore- bottling it all up and not speaking about it all just makes things ten times worse than they need to be.

He and Donnie had a talk about that. A very long talk. A talk that took all night and well into the day, mixed in with all the nasty things Mikey has been keeping locked up inside and pretending didn’t exist.

It’d felt like pouring murky water out into the open, filled with all the rotting thoughts Mikey had inside him. All the emotions and memories he’s been ignoring for so long.

Donnie hadn’t had answers for some of them. The ones about their dad and why he never seemed to expect anything of Mikey at all, and the ones about Raph and Leo and why they always treated Mikey like a useless piece of junk no one wanted.

He’d had some though. Mostly for himself, and those answers were mostly apologies.

Mikey countered a lot of the apologies with his own, or insistences that that specific moment or interaction he had been an idiot, or annoying, or was just being a general fuck up-

But Donnie had very, very sternly told him to shut up when he tried that, and to stop saying those things.

“And that includes thinking those things, Mikey,” Donnie had said, still stern. “If I’m not allowed to think shitty things about myself, then neither are you.”

Mikey had tried to counter that, but hadn’t been able to.

Well, no harm in that. If they’re instating a ‘no shitty thoughts about yourself’ rule, then it’s a good one. Mikey even wrote it onto the fridge whiteboard, displayed with their other new rules.

Most of them are about minding each other’s spaces and needs, and some are about which subjects have to be talked about specifically. They’re both guilty of bottling things up, and whoops, looks like they’ll have to police one another about doing so.

Mikey doesn’t mind that rule too much, and Donnie doesn’t either.

It’s a good rule. It’s a rule that makes sure they communicate when they’re feeling particularly bad, and makes sure they go to one another for support for those moments.

Donnie hasn’t made fun of Mikey’s issues once the whole while. Even when Mikey started talking about the dumb nightmares he gets, Donnie had listened intently, and given nothing but reassurances afterwards. No mockery in sight.

Mikey still catches himself waiting for a verbal or physical blow sometimes, but that’s getting to be less and less. He kinda hopes it’ll be not at all sometime soon.

Everything else is great though! They’re both talking and spending time together, they’ve got awesome friends who are doing everything they can to support the two of them, and they’ve got a home all to themselves; one that’s full of plants that make everything smell great and furniture they picked out themselves and new memories they’re building together.

Now that Mikey has most of his anger out, (most, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever get it all out), and his skull isn’t buzzing with repressed emotions all the time, he thinks it’s the happiest he’s felt in a long, long time.

All good things! He’d like it if things would stay that way, at least for a while.

He’s tired of fighting. Tired of dealing with one crisis after another. They had a talk about that too, about being tired of things like that. And about why Mikey suddenly couldn’t control himself so well anymore. Why all the anger came crawling out, even though he’d put so much work into pushing it all down.

Funny thing about trauma, if you stand still long enough for it to catch up, it will. And then the whole game changes.

No more war means no more distractions, and that means they can’t ignore the things that happened over the years any longer. Kind of hard to do that when there’s nothing left to deal with, other than the pieces leftover.

Emotionally speaking, they’re both kind of really fucked up. Mentally speaking too. It’s going to be a long time before that’s not a thing anymore.

But whatever, they’ll get through it. They always do, so why would this be any different? Especially since they’re both going to do their absolute best to be the support they need.

It’s just them now. No dad, no big brothers. They’ve got friends but it’s just not the same.

They’ll figure this out, through talking and googling things and making a lot of tea and popcorn for movie marathons. All good ways of figuring out why something hurts so much, and then moving away from the hurt.

They’ve got this. They’re the B-team- and that’s their name now, not their brothers’ for them, they’re taking it back and making it their own- and they’ve totally got this.

They’ve got each other, and they’re not letting go of that.

Mikey skips back into the station, because he can and no one will make fun of him for doing so, and heads towards the kitchen to grab a couple sodas. Donnie’s setting up the TV for another movie night, because they don’t have training and don’t want to do training anymore. They can decide what they want to do and no one else gets a say in it.

It’s a pretty awesome feeling, that one. Sure they got all sorts of unresolved issues still hanging in the background, but freedom still tastes like freedom and Mikey loves it.

Mikey opens the fridge, grabbing the six-pack of mini-Sprites they nabbed from the grocers the other day. And of course, he pops open the freezer to get kitty from her home. No way could he forget the third member of their household on a movie night.

Ice cream kitty mrowrowrow’s at him as he takes her out, and it’s a bit of a challenge to balance her while she squirms in her newest bowl. He keeps her steady though, and heads back out through the drapes with the first round of snacks for him and Donnie.

“You ready? I’m so hyped to see this movie,” Mikey says as he sets kitty on the coffee table. Said coffee table has taken a couple beatings lately, and he pats a couple scuff marks on its surface. Good coffee table, great job keeping up with their emotional drama. He should get it a doily as reward.

Donnie isn’t answering him, intently focusing on his phone as he stands motionless by the TV. Mikey’s own phone has remained under his mattress since he put it there, so Donnie’s been the only one seeing the messages from their brothers.

“Donnie?” Mikey asks, standing up straighter. “Hey, something wrong?”

Donnie finally hears him, and looks up from his t-phone.

Mikey’s good cheer disappears when he sees the expression on Donnie’s face.

“Mikey,” Donnie says, breathless and quiet. “We have to go back. It’s Raph.”

Continuation.

[wellamarke]

a sailor's heart is never run aground

humans challenge, week 2, day 6: pirate au a prequel to on the sapphire seas

There was a knock at Mattie’s bedroom door, and she gave a heavy sigh. She didn’t want to have this argument again. Her mind was made up and her bags were packed.

“Don’t come in, Dad, I’m masturbating,” she said, in a flat tone. He’d know she was lying, obviously, but she didn’t have the energy to care about that. She longed to be free of this house, to feel the deck creaking below her feet again, the swaying of her mother’s ship that had always felt so much like home. Being on land was suffocating. She couldn’t stay here.

It wasn’t her father’s voice that replied, though, and Mattie cringed slightly at the realisation that it was Mia out there, not Joe. “Your mother wants you downstairs, Mattie. Shall I pass on that message?”

Mattie could hear the note of levity in the synth’s voice, and she scrambled off the bed to open the door. “No, I’m good,” she said, grinning sheepishly. “That was just to throw Dad off. Where is he, anyway?”

Mia considered. “I’d hate to tell you anything that would deter you from carrying out my captain’s orders,” she said, mock-seriously.

Mattie rolled her eyes. “So he’s with Mum, then.”

The synth gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid so.”

“Ugh,” said Mattie with feeling, and started towards the stairs. She could hardly make her case for boarding the Emerald Eye by expressly disobeying her mother’s wishes, after all. If she did sail, as she was determined to do, Laura would be her captain as well as Mia’s.

She found not just her parents, but her whole family, waiting for her at the dining table.

“Mattie,” said her father. “Sit down.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Is this some sort of intervention? I’m eighteen, Dad, and if I want to sail, the only person who can say I’m not allowed is the captain. The rest of you can stay out of it.”

At a warning look from her mother, she sat down more meekly between her brother and sister. Sophie leaned close to her, clinging onto Mattie’s arm.

“As you said,” her father began calmly, “You’re an adult now, and I can’t stop you boarding the Emerald if that’s what you want to do.”

Mattie was surprised at that, but kept quiet for a moment, wondering where he was going with this strange line of reasoning, which started off by admitting defeat but so was so clearly meant to persuade her otherwise.

“But I’m still your father,” Joe continued. “And I still think you should consider this carefully. This isn’t just another jaunt up the coast, like you’ve been doing since you were Sophie’s age. This is a real voyage, and you won’t be back for a year or more. You’ll be abandoning your schooling, for good this time.” He gave a half-smile, as if regretful. “You’ve missed enough of it as it is, but no master will have you back if you’re away so long.”

Mattie nodded. She understood all this. She would be giving up a lot. But there was nothing for her here, neither in her father’s fields or the nearby town. Her heart belonged to the sea, and it always would.

“And it will be different this time,” her mother said, in the same grave tones Joe had used. “I can’t have you aboard as a guest anymore. If you come on this voyage, you’ll have to work as hard as the rest of the crew.”

Mattie was offended by that. “I’ve always worked on the Emerald. Did you think I thought it was a holiday?” Her eyes flashed with the injustice of it. “I’m not a deadweight! I make myself useful, ask anyone.”

“I know you’ve helped out,” Laura said, more gently. “But you’ve never been assigned as much work as the others. They’ve always treated you as the captain’s daughter, as well they should, but if you want to join the Emerald full-time, you’ll be the same as anyone else. No going to bed early when you’re tired. No picking and choosing who you work alongside, although I imagine you’ll be able to spend enough time with Max and Leo anyway.“ For a moment a knowing smile played on her lips, but then her stern expression returned. "And definitely no special treatment. The others don’t get to talk back to me. Neither will you.”

Mattie opened her mouth to protest, but then she remembered all the times she’d quarrelled with her mother on board the Emerald Eye, before rushing below deck to hide in Max’s cabin. Granted, she and Laura argued much less on board the ship than they did on land, but if she was to join the crew properly, her relationship with her mother would have to change a lot. They couldn’t quarrel like mother and daughter anymore; they’d have to swallow down even the tiny bickerings of a healthy rapport. Mattie would have no choice but to make those changes, and fast.

“I understand,” she said, biting back the annoyance she’d felt initially. “I can live with all that, if it means I can be on the Emerald.”

Laura looked pleased to see her backing down, but clearly she had more to say. “It’ll be me having to live with it too, Mats,” she said. “It’ll be me having to live with myself if anything happens to you, because you’ll still be my daughter if I lose you in a raid, and you’ll still be my daughter if you’re swept overboard.”

Laura glanced up at Mia, who was standing by the wall, watching the family’s discussion. “Obviously, I wouldn’t take you if I thought those things were likely. I try and keep all my crew safe.” She met Mattie’s eyes again. “I just want you to understand the dangers. You know what our aim is with this voyage.”

Mattie knew. They were going to chase the Joybringer, a much larger ship who’d fallen to pirates three summers ago. Mia’s brother Fred was still aboard, the only conscious synth in a crew of mind-controlled puppets who raided and killed whoever they came across. While it was true that the Emerald Eye had her own cargo to deliver on the various stops of the voyage, their overall aim was to claim Fred back.

Nobody went against the Joybringer if they could help it, but Captain Laura was determined to look out for the family of her first mate, Mia, just as Mia would do anything to help the Hawkinses. The two women were inseparable, and many assumed they were married, being very surprised to learn that there was a Mr Hawkins who kept himself tied to the shore. Mattie wondered if her father had heard the same rumours, and if part of his reluctance to let Mattie sail was rooted in the desire to control her, the way he couldn’t control Laura while she was at sea. Her mother would never be unfaithful while her father lived, Mattie knew, but perhaps Joe couldn’t imagine anyone keeping to a higher standard of morality than he was capable of himself. If there was uncertainty in their marriage, he’d put it there a long time ago, and through no fault of Laura’s.

Mattie looked away from her father, and locked eyes with her mother again. “You’re going after Fred because he’s Mia’s family,” she said, boldly. “And if that makes him your family too, then you can’t expect me not to feel the same.”

She sat back in her chair. There was nothing more to say.

Laura and Joe exchanged a glance. Mattie’s father looked weary, but he managed to smile at her. “I’m proud of you, Mattie,” he said. “You know where you’re headed. I can’t bring myself to like it, but I won’t hold you back.”

“Thank you,” said Mattie. Truly, she was grateful. But it wasn’t her father’s approval she really needed. He wouldn’t be her captain.

“Well then,” said Laura, her eyes shining. “I suppose I’d better welcome you onto the crew.”

Joy swelled through Mattie, but she kept her expression serious, and raised a hand to her temple in a salute. “Aye aye, Captain,” she said, voice soft with the magnitude of the occasion, even when she wanted it to sound tough and unafraid.

There’d be plenty of time for that when they faced the Joybringer, she resolved. For now, she had a family to say goodbye to.

[jaskiersbard]

Across Oceans - a Newt/Tina and Jacob/Queenie fics

@pinkdiamonddolphin

I present to you the “Jacob/Queenie and family move to Dorset” fic! I hope you enjoy!

Story set in: mid/late October to early November in 1940

Phoenix – 22nd June 1931 – 9 (going on 10) Linnet – 13th January 1933 - 7 (nearly 8) Leo – 2nd March 1935 – 5 (going on 6)

(Miracle baby not born yet – Tina’s still in her early-stages of pregnancy!)

Tobias “Toby” – 15th October 1929 – 11 Daisy – 7th April 1931 – 9 (going on 10) Abel and Ruth (twins) – 20th November 1933 – 6/7 Elijah “Eli” – 28th January 1939 – 1 (nearly 2)

Eli was such a beautiful baby – it made Queenie’s heart swell with love when she looked at him: he had Jacob’s dark hair, lovely thick hair at that, the same cherub cheeks, and the biggest blue eyes she’d ever seen. She wasn’t the only one who thought this – people in the street would think the same thing about him when they passed, and a few even stopped on many occasions to say aloud to her that he was a stunning baby.

That afternoon, she needed to buy some ingredients for supper; they had been running low on a multitude of things, from flour to potatoes, so Queenie had decided to go to the shops with her youngest son while the other children were at school. It was a busy afternoon, the streets filled with pedestrians and mothers such as herself shopping for supplies; Eli squirmed in her arms, eager to explore for himself – he had more than mastered how to walk by himself now, and he took great pleasure in going wherever he could without any cares. That was all well and good at home, of course, but in the middle of New York it was simply not an option to let him walk on his own.

“I know, Eli,” Queenie cooed, shifting the basket on her arm to make more room for him. “We won’t be long, honey – if you’re a good boy, Mama will let you walk in the shop. How does that sound?

Eli looked rather put out but stopped squirming. “Oh-kay.”

The grocer in the store nodded politely at her, recognizing her as a regular, and she smiled back before returning to her shopping; despite the regular hustle and bustle of New York, the majority of people here were friendly, if nothing else. A number of people – shop owners in the area particularly - recognized her as being “the Kowalski fella’s wife” and were kind to her because of her. It was nice to read the recognition in their minds, especially when coupled with admiration for her husband’s baking.

“Mama, walk,” Eli reminded her, giving a wriggle.

Queenie looked around; there weren’t too many people in here, and so long as he stayed in the shop… “Alright, honey,” She agreed, beaming at him affectionately as she put him down. “Only for a few minutes while Mama gets some food – don’t leave the shop, okay? Stay close to Mama.”

Eli was immediately toddling around with glee, his giggles bubbling up already – he was such a happy child, she reflected, and it made her feel warm inside. So long as she could hear his thoughts and his laughter he was safe, so she turned back to the shelves of food to see what she needed.

Let me see, she thought to herself: Flour, I needed that for the pie…oh, and potatoes, that’ll be over on the other side of the store-

Queenie Goldstein?

Queenie froze immediately, smile fading fast – no one had called her by that name in years. There were very few people who would think she was still “Goldstein”, and those were employees at MACUSA. Careful not to make it too obvious, she tilted her head and tried to catch a glimpse of who might have thought such a thing.

And her heart sank.

Standing across the store was a middle-aged man in a sharp suit; she recognized him as being one of the low-level MACUSA functionaries she’d had to bring coffee to on a number of occasions. She couldn’t remember his name, but she knew that they had all thought the same degrading things about her.

It is Queenie Goldstein! I’d recognize those blonde curls anywhere! What’s she doing here, of all places? We thought she’d moved or something, like her sister…Hell, there was the rumours of her being knocked up floating about at one point…

She couldn’t panic – if this guy was studying her, he’d see it. No, she had to keep a calm head; maybe, just maybe, he’d find something else to occupy his mind and forget about her in the shop. After all, shopping wasn’t a crime – she wasn’t breaking the law or anything-

“Mama!”

Oh no. Queenie couldn’t help but bite her lip at the sight of her son – of little Eli – running across the shop to her, blissfully ignorant; she reached out for him when he was close enough, picking him up and cradling him to her chest. She already knew what the man would be thinking before she read it in his thoughts.

She has a…a kid? It can’t be her sister’s or anything, her sister is across the Atlantic last I heard. Maybe the rumours were true…but if she was pregnant eleven years ago, then she must have at least one more. If she was married though, why hide? Why wouldn’t she have registered it? Unless…

Apparently he wasn’t as foolish as she had hoped – he was putting the pieces together easily, like a children’s puzzle.

There always was talk of her being sweet on a No-Maj – of her leaving work early to go watch him. Never believed those rumours, but now…

The shopping suddenly seemed meaningless – she had to get out of there now.

Queenie hefted Eli in her arms, ignoring the squeal of delight he gave, and grabbed her basket before heading for the exit of the shop. She could hear the man getting suspicious of her sudden abrupt need to leave, especially without buying anything, but that didn’t matter now – not when she had her son with her, not when there was the risk of her family being found out.

What am I gonna do?

“…So, what do you think we should do?”

Queenie bit her lip, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. Oh, Jacob, it was awful…he knew something. There was already talk going round the offices of why I’d gone, but…but now he’s seen Eli and he knows.”

“Do you think he’d say something?” Jacob asked, and she knew he was starting to worry now. “I mean, if he did say something, would they believe it?” Maybe they’d think it was ridiculous, maybe they’d leave it…

“They’d have to take all accusations seriously,” She sighed, shaking her head. “If there’s even the slightest chance of the law being broken, they gotta investigate.”

They were both silent for a long moment, letting this sink in; Jacob sat back in his chair after a few seconds, clearly mulling things over in his mind.

If only… She’s gonna be in real trouble if they find out, more than I would be – that’s all gonna be on me if she or the kids get in trouble, my fault for not being magic-

“Don’t you dare think like that!” Queenie seethed, though she looked more hurt than angry. “There ain’t nothing wrong with being a No-Maj at all – it’s the law that’s wrong, not us! Honey,” She put her hand over his, and her voice was almost pained. “You know I don’t care that you’re a No-Maj, and the kids don’t either!”

Jacob sighed. “No. I know. So…what are we gonna do then? What happens if they investigate and find out about…us?”

“Well…I don’t know,” She admitted, and she suddenly looked teary-eyed. “They could obliviate you again – more permanently this time. As for me…I’d probably be jailed or something like that. I have no idea what would happen to the children, but if I was jailed…”

If Queenie was punished – in prison, most likely – for breaking the law, their children would more than likely be sent to foster homes; they’d probably be separated from not only their parents but each other. Their family wouldn’t be able to stay together at all if MACUSA found out and exposed them.

She bit her lip, shaking her head to herself. “No. No, I can’t…we can’t…we can’t stay here and wait for that to happen.”

“What, you think we should move?” Jacob asked, looking rather troubled by this. “I mean…”

The bakery. The kids’ schools. We don’t have the money to move too far away.

Queenie squeezed his hand. “No, we don’t have the money – but we can’t just sit here, Jacob. We have to do something – the kids ain’t safe here, and neither are we.”

“Alright,” Jacob said slowly, and she read the plan he was formulating in his head seconds before he continued. “We could go South or something, right? I got family down near Pennsylvania, we could go there…”

“The law is the same there,” She sighed. “It’s a wonderful idea, honey, but no matter where we go in America we’re breaking the law…and what if someone finds us there? We can’t just keep moving…and Toby, he’s eleven…he’s supposed to be starting school next year.”

But even before the events of the afternoon, it had looked almost impossible that their son would be attending Ilvermorny the next fall; none of their children’s births had been registered with MACUSA in fear that their family would be discovered, and so none of them would be on the list of young wizards and witches waiting to attend. Toby had just turned eleven, and he was less than a year away until the age he was supposed to go – and it would be simply awful to not send him to school.

“How long do you think we’ve got?” Jacob asked slowly. “You know, before they might find us?”

“Maybe…a few days,” Queenie murmured anxiously, folding her arms. “A week or two if we’re real lucky – they’ll know we live nearby if I was doing the shopping, and they’ll send out investigators to be looking wherever they can. If we wait too long, we might not be able to make it out of New York without being spotted.”

He was silent for a moment, and she heard him mulling things over in his mind; the bakery, the children, where they could go and be safe for certain – and then it seemed to come to him quite suddenly.

“Hey, Queenie? Do you think…maybe…Newt and Tina might be able to help?”

“…And this is Niff, and this is Dougal…and this is the Erumpent!”

Newt was grinning uncontrollably as he looked over the drawing his youngest son had done that evening; at five-years-old, Leo’s drawings were mostly colorful blobs and scribbles – but they were wonderful to him, all the same. “Yes, it looks very accurate, Leo – I especially like that you’ve drawn the Niffler with something shiny.”

“It’s Mummy’s necklace,” Leo said excitedly.

Newt chuckled, handing the drawing back to his son. “Well, he is rather fond of your mother’s necklace, isn’t he? It’s a very good drawing: you should be very proud of yourself.”

His son’s face lit up at the praise, absolutely enthused by it, as he clambered off of the floor and to the sofa to show his mother. “See, Mummy? I did a drawing of the beasts! Do you like it?”

Tina was smiling fondly as she lifted him into her lap and looked at the drawing properly. “Let me see…it’s very good,” She affirmed, and he beamed happily. “It’s much better than I can do, at any rate – I like how you’ve made the Erumpent purple too. Very creative!”

Linnet looked up from where she was stretched out on the rug on the floor by the fire. “Mummy, I wrote a story today – can I read it to you?”

“Of course, Lin,” Tina told her, patting the seat on the sofa next to her. “Come on, come sit with me.”

“You know, I think we’d all like to hear it,” Newt agreed fondly, and he gestured to Phoenix; his oldest son looked up from his book in puzzlement. “Come on, we’ll all sit together and then you can read your story, Lin.”

Linnet was bright-eyed as she stood up, shuffling some paper in her arms and waiting for her family to make themselves comfortable in front of her; once Phoenix was sat between Newt and Tina, she cleared her throat. “My story is called ‘Dougal the Amazing Demiguise’…Dougal helped me write it.”

“I see,” Newt chuckled, and Tina was grinning to herself.

“Okay… Once upon a time, there was a demiguise named Dougal,” Linnet read clearly from her paper. “Dougal was very kind and soft and lovely, and he had a best friend called Linnet Scamander who loved him very much. One day, three baby Occamys escaped from the case that was their home, and they were going to cause trouble in the house where Linnet lived! Dougal decided that he had to find all of the baby Occamys before Linnet’s Mummy and Daddy found out because Occamys grow and they would destroy the house if they did that. The first baby Occamy was going to the kitchen and was about to become big when Dougal purred – the Occamy looked at Dougal and saw that he had a roach in his hand, so it slithered back to Dougal, who grabbed it and put it back in the case…”

There was a tapping on the window to the front room, causing all of them to look up; an owl was perched on the window ledge outside, a letter clutched in its beak. Newt stood up and moved to the window, waving his hand dismissively. “Carry on, Lin, I won’t be a moment.”

“Okay… Anyway,” She continued, turning back to her story. “The second baby Occamy was in Linnet’s room…”

The owl looked rather exhausted, fluttering its wings and glaring up at Newt; he simply unlatched the window, waited for it to hop inside, and then took the letter from its beak. “Alright, I’ll get you something in a minute, hang on.” He looked down at the envelope in his hands and saw that it was addressed to Tina. “Ah, must be Queenie; I’ll give this to her.”

After feeding the bird a treat (found in the deepest reach of his pockets, but it did the trick), he turned back to his family and sat down on the sofa beside Phoenix again; the letter could wait until after his daughter had finished telling her story, he reasoned, for she was clearly very pleased with herself for writing it.

“…The last baby Occamy was in Linnet’s Mummy and Daddy’s room,” Linnet read aloud clearly. “It was trying to find a home in the cupboard. Dougal waited until it curled up in one of Linnet’s Daddy’s shoes and then carried it back downstairs to the case. He then put the baby Occamy back in the case – just as he opened it, however, the Niffler tried to escape!” Leo gave a gasp at this. “It slipped away from Dougal but then… Linnet appeared and she picked the Niffler up before it could run away. Dougal was so glad that Linnet saved the day that he played dollies with her all day.” She paused. “Oh, The End!”

All of the family clapped as she did a small bow, and she seemed to glow with pride; even Phoenix was grinning as he leaned forwards in his seat. “Did you write that all by yourself, Lin?”

“Yes…well…kind of…Dougal helped.”

“It was fantastic,” Tina laughed fondly, and Leo nodded from his perch on her lap eagerly. “You’re so good at writing, Lin.”

“I think you should be writing books, not me,” Newt remarked, grinning at his daughter. “That was a fantastic story – I’m impressed Lin.”

Linnet looked ecstatic at this. “Really? Can I really write books like you, Daddy?” He nodded in agreement, and it warmed his heart when she went pink-cheeked with happiness. “Thank you, Daddy!”

The children were relatively easy to coax into bed that night – Linnet not even putting up her usual fight to stay up later as she usually did – and it was no more than half an hour later that Newt and Tina found themselves curled up on the sofa in the front room with hot mugs of cocoa (as was routine for them). It only occurred to Newt as he watched his wife turning the pages of her book that he’d left the letter from earlier tucked in his trouser pocket.

“Ah! I almost forgot… A letter came for you, Tina,” He muttered, and he struggled slightly as he fished it from his pocket. “I think it might be from Queenie, judging from the hand-writing.”

Her face lit up at the prospect of a letter from her sister, and she hurriedly closed her book so that she could take the envelope; she quickly opened it, eagerly scanning the writing immediately. “I wonder how Eli is getting on: we haven’t seen him – any of them – since…since last January! We should plan another visit soon or…”

Her voice trailed off suddenly; Newt studied her face as she read the letter, waiting to see if he could gage a reaction from her. For a long moment, she just silently read the letter with her lips pressed together, unreadable – but then she started to gnaw on her lip, a sign something wasn’t quite right.

“Tina, love?” He found himself asking tentatively. “Everything alright?”

His wife’s face had gone a ghostly grey, as if she had seen a ghost. “It’s Queenie…she and Jacob…”

She offered him the letter, looking utterly terrified; Newt took it from her and hurriedly read the contents.

Tina

I’m sorry this letter is short, but it’s desperate. We can’t stay here, not anymore – someone from MACUSA saw me with Eli in a store, and they’ll investigate soon. Jacob and I don’t want to cause you and Newt any trouble, of course, but we don’t have anywhere else to turn and we really need help – for the children’s sakes.

I don’t know what you could do, but if you or Newt could offer any advice or a solution, then we’d be grateful.

Please write back soon,

Queenie

Newt felt his own heart sink into the pit of his stomach, mind racing; it had only been a matter of time, really, but all the same he had hoped that perhaps MACUSA would change their minds regarding Rappaport’s Law. He knew that Tina had worked effortlessly to convince them to consider it whenever she visited, meeting with the British Minister of Magic to convince him to support her campaign and arranging visits with every new President elected (for there had been many changes over the years) to give her argument. Every time, however, she had been unsuccessful.

“We have to do something,” Tina stated worriedly, clutching her mug in her hands as she stood up and started to pace the room. “They’ll send an investigative team to track Queenie and Jacob, to watch their every move…they’ll find out sooner or later if we don’t help.”

Newt nodded in agreement, putting the letter down on the coffee table and thinking hard to himself. “Of course…well…do the children have passports?”

“Passports?” She tilted her head at this, clearly confused, and put her mug down. “Why would they need-?… Oh.”

“I know it’s not the most convenient solution,” He admitted. “In fact, it would be rather reckless, but I can’t think of anywhere else they could go – any place in North America is bound to be unsafe from now on.”

“But where would they live?” Tina questioned, folding her arms as she looked at him. “What about the bakery? Jacob’s been working in that bakery for years, he can’t just leave it without any warning…”

Newt sighed, looking down at his hands. “I know, I know; it’s going to hurt him to leave that bakery, but if there’s no other way… I…I could perhaps pull a few strings.” She noticed that his cheeks had gone slightly pink as he said this. “My father is still rather well-respected in the eyes of the Minister, so I’m sure that it might be possible to perhaps procure a loan of some kind…there’s a sweet shop closing down in Beaminster that belonged to the Prewett family for years, but they can’t afford it anymore – as far as I’m aware, no one’s bought it yet. If I contacted my father tonight, he could perhaps reserve it for the future.”

“Alright, I suppose that’s an idea,” She allowed. “But where would they live, Newt? They’re a family of seven – it’d be impossible for them to find a home on such short notice.”

“Well…” Newt looked up, catching her eye and taking a deep breath. “Why not have them stay with us?”

Tina’s eyes widened, and it was clear she was shocked by this idea. “Newt, you can’t be serious! We have three children – with another on the way-”

“We have more than enough room,” He disagreed, shaking his head. “The baby’s not due until next year, for a start, and it wouldn’t be permanent – just long enough for them to find a home of their own.”

“If they moved in with us,” She said slowly. “That would be eight children in this house, plus four adults…we don’t have enough bedrooms for everyone.”

“The children could share,” He suggested, pushing himself off the sofa so that he could move towards her. “Think about it – we have seven bedrooms in the house: one for us, one for your sister and Jacob, that’s two. I’m sure the children won’t mind sharing at all: Linnet would be more than happy to share her room with Daisy, and I’m sure Phoenix will agree to sharing with Toby – so that’s four bedrooms.”

She didn’t look completely convinced, but she gave a nod nonetheless. “Alright, fine. That means there’s three rooms left – and one of them isn’t at all large.”

“Yes, well, there’s Leo’s room, and perhaps then there could be one for the twins and one for Eli… I’m sure we can work it out,” Newt decided earnestly. When she still didn’t look assured by this plan, he gently reached to tilt her chin up to look at him. “Tina, love, I know this is all very sudden and frightening, but I’m sure we can do this. If it means they’re safe, then it’s going to be more than worth it.”

Tina gave a heavy sigh, her shoulders sinking. “I know, I know, it’s just…I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. I thought that the law would have changed by now or something…I feel like I…I could have done something else to help them…”

Of course she did – but she wasn’t to blame for this, not at all. Newt wrapped an arm around her, shaking his head again. “No, you did all you could, Tina, short of actually telling MACUSA about your sister and Jacob’s family. Don’t blame yourself – the only people to blame are the ones in charge of the law, not us.”

“I suppose so,” She muttered in defeat, and when she pulled away from him he saw that she was frowning thoughtfully. “Alright, fine. I’ll write back to Queenie immediately then and let her know…how soon do you think they could book passage over here from New York?”

“I don’t know,” He admitted. “But tell them to do it as soon as possible.”

Tina was quiet as she picked up her sister’s letter from the coffee table, turning it over in her hands. “They’ll need a day or so to sort out what to do with the bakery, to pack what they need… I wish it didn’t have to come to this.”

Newt felt his own posture sink at her words; the idea of his friends – family – in such a position, forced to flee the country for their own safety, was too similar to what many refugees were attempting to do in Europe with the war raging on. “No. I wish it didn’t either.”

Tina was the one waiting for them on the docks a few days later, hands in her pockets and gnawing her lip anxiously; she lifted at the sight of her sister’s familiar blonde curls, and it was all she could do not to run to greet her. She had to remain composed, of course, and not draw too much attention to herself or her sister’s family – for their own safety.

She waited patiently as they had their luggage checked; she couldn’t help but hold her breath when they presented their passports, secretly worried that something would go wrong. Her worries seemed to be for naught, however, as the entire family were allowed to enter without any problems whatsoever just minutes later.

The children – Daisy, especially – were excited to see her, hugging and greeting her happily; Queenie was positively tearful at seeing her sister again, reaching out and embracing her with the arm that wasn’t holding Eli. The feel of warm arms, a nice motherly hug, reminded Tina too much of their mother and how things had once been, and she couldn’t help but allow a tear to escape too because it felt so wonderful to finally see her sister again, even under these circumstances.

“Thank you,” Queenie murmured, sounding absolutely choked with emotion. “Teenie, thank you.”

“It’s okay,” Tina managed, forcing herself to smile. “I’m just…so glad to see you.”

Suddenly the idea of cramped living quarters and so many children being in the house didn’t seem to bother her – not now that she had her sister again, not now that she could be sure Queenie, Jacob and their children could be completely safe.

There will be a second part soon (hopefully!) :) (and yes, that will delve more into the move, don’t worry!)

[persorene]

Into the Unknown; Chapter 26

*headcanon that comes into play later in this chapter; among his many other talents, Dwyer is a decent musician.*

“Mom, I can go. I can do it.” Dwyer said quietly.  

The leader of their ragtag army was sitting on the floor, cradling her youngest son to her chest as he slept, her copper hair falling over him and hiding him from view. She looked from her husband who was crouching beside her to her eldest son who stood in the corner of the room, anxiously twirling his staff in his hands. The exhiled princess kept her voice to a whisper “Dwyer, sweetheart, I don’t know if I’m comfortable with you going out on missions alone. I’ve had enough of a scare over your little brother today. It’s a lovely offer, but-”

“Mom. Look, I know you think I’m helpless but I’m not. You and dad need to stay here with Kana, it was the first time he’s ever turned. And with the stress of the attack… he probably won’t wake up for awhile. But the skies change in two days. We were due to meet Xander and Leo any time now, and now we’re hiding out in a forest. If I don’t go, they won’t ever find us here and we won’t gain Nohr’s support. Having Ryoma and Hinoka backing us helps so much, but you know we need them too.”

Jakob was swelling with pride. His son never took initiative on his own, and while he certainly didn’t want to put their oldest son in harm’s way, he also couldn’t refuse the offer. “Corrin.” Jakob began. His wife turned her face to him, her fingers mindlessly stroked Kana’s silky white locks as she listened. “Darling, I don’t want him in danger either. But, he does have a point. We can’t allow an alliance with Nohr to slip through our fingers. Dwyer is a skilled boy, he can make it to the canyon safely and retrieve your brothers. He can take a party along with him. Surely we can spare the forces while we wait here for Kana to come around.” He chuckled grimly as he looked at his beloved princess and their son in her arms “Besides, if anyone dare threaten my family they’d have to face me.”

Corrin returned her eyes to their older son “Do you promise me you will be more careful than you have ever been before?”

“Mother, when have I ever been reckless?”

“Never dear, however, you are my precious son and if something were to happen to you I-” she shook her head “No. I can’t even think about it.”

The teenager stepped across the room and stood next to his parents and brother, he lay a hand on top of his mother’s head to comfort her “Momma, I promise you I will be safe. I can do this.”

She nodded and grabbed his hand in her own, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles “I know, my love. However, if you aren’t home by tomorrow afternoon I’m coming after you.”

Dwyer smiled, revealing the dimples in his cheeks, his eyes slowly drifted from his loving mother to father “Dad?”

“Yes son?” The butler looked up, his long white bangs hung over his left eye, the other was focusing intently on the lanky teen.

Dwyer tapped his fingers together quickly, his eyes shifted about nervously “I, um, I know I don’t like to ask for your help and I know this was my idea so if you’d rather not help me, I understand but, I was just wondering if you’d- Y'know, since I’ve never gone on a mission by myself  before I just thought…”

“I’ll help you.” Jakob chuckled slightly “I’d never send my son off unprepared.”

The boy smiled slightly “Thanks pops.”

“Come on, we need to get you ready.” Jakob stood and motioned for his son to follow him out the door and into the courtyard.

“Dwyer! I mean it young man, if you even think something looks or feels off, you come straight back home.” Corrin called after him.

Dwyer slowed to a stop and turned back toward his worried mother “Mom, do you really think dad would let me go if it was risky?”

She shook her head, he certainly would never put any of them in danger of any sort “No, but still, you are my son. I’m just worried. I know you’re a capable boy, but to me, you’re still my baby.”

He threw a smile at her, revealing his dimples and soothing her instantly “I know mom. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

———————————————————————————————

Jakob stood next to his son in the armory, twirling a dagger between his fingers and watching as the light glinted off of its surface “You’ll take your daggers.”

“But, dad, I’m not a fighter I’m-”

“A healer. Yes, I am aware. However, your staff won’t help you if things go wrong or if you get into a dangerous situation. But with a dagger, you don’t need to be tremendously precise-” he paused and flung the dagger he’d been holding across the room, with a thud, it landed it’s hit and stuck in one of the training dummies near the wall “but speed may just save you.”

Dwyer rolled his eyes “Yeah, okay, but you are skilled. You could throw blind folded and still kill someone. Even if I’m fast it won’t help if I completely miss the target.”

With a heavy sigh, Jakob held out the sheath of daggers for his son “Damn it Dwyer, don’t be so stubborn.  I don’t care if you never use them, but for my peace of mind and your mother’s, would you please at least keep them on you. Gods, if your mother thought for even a second that I let you go out on your own with no way to defend yourself she’d-”

Dwyer groaned and quickly snatched the leather bundle from his father’s hands "Fine. Whatever.“ he opened his satchel and began to stuff the weaponry inside.

“No. On your leg, where they go, where you can actually get to them if you need them.”

“Dad!” he angrily shouted.

Jakob folded his arms across his chest and cast an icy glare toward Dwyer “If you don’t wear them properly, you won’t go.”

“Gods.” the teen grumbled as he fastened the holster around his upper thigh “There, happy?”

“Not really, but that’s better. Now, about your group, I was thinking we could send you with-”

“I thought I was doing this alone?” Dwyer interrupted.

Jakob laughed slightly, he hadn’t meant to but it escaped him before he could stop it “No, not alone. Alone as in without your mother or myself, yes, but not by yourself. I’m not sending my inexperienced teenage son out into a battlefield entirely on his own.”

“But, I can handle it. And it isn’t a battlefield, I’m just finding Xander and Leo and bringing them back here.”

“And if you run into trouble? Or an army?” Jakob asked, his tone becoming sharper with each argument.

Dwyer lifted his staff, casting a light around himself and temporarily disappearing from sight “Problem solved.” his disembodied voice answered.

“And if you’re attacked on sight because they were expecting your mother?” He sighed and rolled his eyes “Make yourself visible again, I can’t talk to someone I can’t see.”

“Why would they attack me?” Dwyer asked, disregarding his father’s request and remaining hidden.

“Because this is a war, they don’t know you and they probably already think this is a trap.” The butler pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger “Dwyer. I-”

Interrupting again, Dwyer waved his staff and retracted his last stave, now visible once more “Dad. No. I want to show you and mom I’m not the little kid you think I am. If I do well, you trust me to do more around here, if not you may continue to coddle and shelter me.”

“I do not coddle.” Jakob said sharply.

“That’s what you got out of that?” Dwyer rolled his eyes, looking startling like his father in the process “Look, I gotta go. Mom only gave me until tomorrow afternoon. I’ll come home if something goes wrong. But it won’t so, bye pops.”

Dwyer shoved his way through the armory doors and trudged across the grounds toward the front gate. Jakob followed close at his heels “Dwyer, stop this.” he growled as he chased his son, his boots throwing up dust with each hastened stride.

The boy stopped in front of the gates, looking up the tower to the guard on duty.

“Hey, Silas. Let me out.” Dwyer shouted up to the young knight who was monitoring the doors.

Silas looked from the scraggly teenager to the elegant white haired man chasing close behind him, "Jakob?“ he questioned, hesitantly asking permission to comply with the boy’s request

The butler looked at his son, his lavender eyes darting back and forth as he seemed to search his child for any reason to say no.

"Dad, please.” Dwyer whispered softly “I can do it.” Though he would never admit it, he desperately wanted to impress his father.

Jakob growled, his stomach churned at the thought of letting his son leave on his own, but he was conflicted, he also felt tremendously proud that his child felt so compelled to contribute to the war effort. Dwyer was clever and skilled, he’d surely be wise enough to handle a simple scouting mission. Jakob closed his eyes and exhaled deeply “Open the gate.” He muttered.

Silas stated at him in confusion “Jakob? Are you sure? He’s just a kid and-”

Jakob shot a characteristically vicious glare at the knight “I don’t recall asking for your advice. I said let him out.”

Silas grimaced at the man below him “Fine.” He began to turn the pulley, slowly and loudly lifting the large wooden gate. 

Dwyer stood staring at his father in disbelief, he had been certain he would never change his mind “Dad. Thank you.”

“Just, be careful. Do not make me regret this.”

Dwyer stared at his father a moment longer, he quickly threw his arms around him “You won’t. I promise. I’ll be careful.”

The older man awkwardly held his son in his arms, they had never had a particularly affectionate relationship and the exchange was unusual for them. 

Dwyer pulled away from his father’s embrace, he smiled and raised a hand to wave at his dad as he turned and walked out of the safety of the fortress. Jakob stood in front of the gates as they closed, watching as long as possible as his son walked down the dirt path and off toward his first mission. As soon as the doors met and locked and the teenager was no longer in view, he regretted his decision to let him go. He spun on his heels and darted up the stairs to the watch tower. Reaching the top in seconds, he grabbed the front railing and lurched forward, focusing on the disappearing silhouette of the boy as he sauntered into the tree line “Shit.” he hissed through his clenched teeth as he stomped back down the stairs.

Silas had followed him, shouting hysterically as he tailed the butler “Jakob, Jakob! How could you send him off by himself like that? He’s a teenager. He could be kidnapped, or killed or-”

Jakob whipped around, even standing a step below the knight, he stood a bit taller “Shut up. I know what I did.” he barked viciously

He turned to walk away before the knight grabbed his shoulder, firmly locking him in place.

“Does Corrin know you let him go alone? How is she going to feel knowing you let her son out of the fortress with no protection?”

The white haired man stopped trying to pull away and turned back to the meddlesome man “In case you’ve forgotten he’s my son as well. How she and I raise OUR son is none of your business.”

“Raise him? You let him waltz out of here unarmed!” Silas shouted.

“Would you keep your damned voice down? I’m fixing it.” He swung back around and marched across the courtyard.

“How do you intend to do that?” Silas called after him.

Jakob ignored him and continued walking, he had a faint idea of how he was going to remedy his mistake. In the distance he saw who he was looking for, the twins, Kaze and Saizo. He nearly sprinted to them, Kaze addressed him first as he approached “What’s wrong? You seem… bothered.” he ran a hand through his green hair, as much as he tried to hide it, the butler made him slightly nervous.

Saizo however, did not share the same apprehension, rather he enjoyed tormenting the man “What’s got you spooked, lap dog?”

Jakob clenched his teeth, as much as he hated that nick name, he would have to ignore it for now. His need for their assistance outweighed his desire to fire back a snide comment. “I, I need a favour.” he whispered, the usual venom gone from his voice.

“What’s happened?” Kaze asked, worried by his acquaintance’s strangely out of character tone and posture.

Jakob nervously tossed his long white pony tail over his shoulder and spoke just as softly as before “I… I did something I shouldn’t have and I need help fixing it.”

“HA! You, asking for help? You must have really messed up. What’d you do?” Saizo sputtered between his bouts of laughter

“I let Dwyer out on his own for a mission.” he groaned.

The brothers fell silent and stared at him. Saizo spoke first “Why the hell would you do that?”

Jakob growled, he hated explaining himself to others ‘you need their help'  he reminded himself. “I don’t know. I was proud of him for taking initiative and he was begging me. As tough as I am on him I do still have a soft spot for my sons.” he folded his arms over his chest and looked down at the ground, mindlessly nudging a rock over with the toe of his boot “Can you help me or not?”

“What do you need us to do?” The kinder twin asked.

Jakob exhaled a relieved sigh “I just, I need you to follow him and make sure he’s safe.”

“Alright, not a problem-”

“Wait.” Jakob interrupted “Can you make sure you remain unseen?”

“Why can’t you do it, lapdog?” Saizo asked, his gaze fixed on the Nohrian.

The usually hostile man fought the urge to roll his eyes “Obviously a butler doesn’t have the same skill-set as a ninja does. If I went he’d know I had followed him and he’s so damned determined to do this alone…” he let his voice trail off, the very last of his anger diminished and was replaced with worry “Please, please just help me. If something were to happen to him I’d… I’d never forgive myself.” his brows furrowed together as he spoke. He hadn’t raised his eyes from the ground yet. He rarely let his guard down and he felt terribly uncomfortable doing so, especially under such circumstances.

“We can do it. Where did he go?” Kaze’s voice was gentle and understanding. It hadn’t been long since he’d had a scare with his own daughter trying to take on too much by herself. He knew the fear well.

“Toward the Bottomless Canyon… he’s attempting to retrieve his uncles; Prince Xander and Prince Leo, I mean. It shouldn’t be terribly dangerous, but there are so many ways this could go wrong. They were expecting Corrin, and since she’s with Kana she couldn’t go, I’m afraid they’ll think it’s a trap and kill him on sight.”

“Understood. We’ll leave immediately.” Kaze said with a bow.

Jakob finally looked up “Thank you.” he muttered in passing as he walked back toward his home.

————————————————————————-

Dwyer shuffled through the forest slowly. He progressed with caution and care as he’d promised to, straining to pinpoint each noise, every flickering shadow. The red head would rest a hand on his daggers at each disturbance, waiting until it had cleared before pushing forward. Kaze and Saizo watched him from the shadows, silently leaping through the expansive growth to keep the boy in their sights, all the while ensuring he never saw or heard a trace of them.

Twilight was beginning to settle as Dwyer entered the sparse thicket on the edge of the forest. Between the scragly trees and brush, a plume of smoke rose to the sky, the sounds of men chattering, the clash of metal gear and armor as well of the whinnies of horses poluted the once silent woods. Dwyer lowered himself to the ground, he peered through the thicket toward the cluster of purple and black tents that stood in a circular formation in the clearing 'This has to be the camp.‘ 

————————————————————————–

“Where is she? She said she’d be here by now?” Leo grumbled, he was pacing the ground, stopping randomly to kick at a stick that was unlucky enough to be in his way.

Xander stood near him, scanning the tree line for any sign of his younger sister’s arrival “Patience brother.” He soothed.

The younger prince stopped pacing and shook his head “No. No, I don’t like this. It feels like a trap.”

“I don’t think she was lying, Leo. She seemed deeply distraught when we last spoke. You know she’s always worn her heart on her sleeve, so, I’m inclined to believe her.” Xander spoke matter of factly. A quick flash of copper amidst the dull green of the forest caught his eye. “Did you see that?” He asked, taking a step forward.

“No? See what, Xander?” Leo hadn’t been paying attention to much more than the meddlesome branch that was still stuck in his path.

“Look! There.” He held out an arm and pointed into the forest “Red hair, I think she’s here. Come on.” He began to jog swiftly toward the spot in the brush where he’d see the visitor. 

Leo bolted after his brother “Xander! Stop, wait, what if it isn’t her?”

Xander chuckled “Have you ever seen anyone else with her hair colour?”

The young prince rolled his eyes “Hair colour isn’t definitive proof it’s her, and besides-”

“Corrin!” Xander called, interrupting his younger brother “Corrin, is that you?”

'Damn, they saw me' Dwyer thought to himself 'I don’t have much of a choice now. If I just stand here it’ll look even stranger. How do I even introduce myself? Hi, I’m your nephew, I was born last year and I’m nearly as old as you. I know I sound insane but please follow me through a dark forest, alone. That definitely won’t go over well…’

“Corrin?” Xander bellowed again.

'Well, I don’t suppose I can hide much longer' he sighed heavily 'Let’s get this over with.’

The teenager stepped out of the thicket and stood before his uncles. They looked just how he’d imagine they would, blonde and regal, the picture of Nohrian nobility. Xander held his gaze firmly, looking both perplexed and annoyed by this strange somber boy in front of him.

“I told you it was a trap! She didn’t even bother to show up!” Leo snapped. “We should get rid of him now.”

Hearing this from his hiding spot in a shadow nearby, Saizo grabbed a shuriken, ready to eliminate any threats to the boy. Kaze held his arm out, holding his brother in place to prevent any un-provoked attacks.

“Hush!” The older prince shouted. He quickly turned his attention back to the boy “Who are you?”

'Be smooth, Dwyer, you’ve got this.' "I’m Dwyer.“ He said confidently.

"Dwyer, did my sister send you?”

He nodded “She did.”

“And why could she not be here herself?” He questioned carefully, he was still leary of this stranger.

“A pressing issue came up, she’s at our camp. If you would be willing to accompany me, I can escort you to her.” Dwyer said firmly, feeling far braver than he usually did.

The burly prince stared at the teenager, studying him for anything that signalled a darker intent. He was thin and lanky. His skin was pale and he had dark rings around his grey eyes, his hair was shaggy and long and shimmered like new copper. The boy carried only a staff and a handful of small daggers. Dressed in all grey, he looked mournful and somber, but certainly not threatening. Xander couldn’t quite place it, but he also looked… familiar. He couldn’t pull his eyes from the young man that stood before him, something about him was so scarily reminiscent of someone he knew “Have- Have we met before?” he asked hesitantly.

Dwyer shook his head lightly, sending his copper hair flying as he did “No, we’ve never met.” he smirked slightly, looking up at his uncle “But, if you think I look familiar you’re right; I do.”

The prince twisted his mouth in confusion “I beg pardon, but I don’t follow.”

“Oh come on, you called me her name, didn’t you?”

“Corrin? What about her…” his voice began to falter. What he was implying, it couldn’t possibly be true. He tried something more rational “You’re one of her biological siblings?”

Dwyer shook his head “Nope.”

“Then… then-”

“She’s my mother.” Dwyer quietly answered.

Leo let out a breathy growl “Liar! That’s physically impossible, you look like you’re nearly my age and Corrin is barely older than I am.”

Dwyer smirked again “I can explain it to you along the way, if you’ll accompany me back to our fort.”

Xander stepped forward “If this is a trap-”

“I assure you it isn’t. Why would I kill my own uncles?”

Leo hissed again “Uncles.” he mumbled sarcastically under his breath.

The high prince bowed his head and sighed “I’ll go with you. But, I want answers.”

“Xander! You can’t be serious! A stranger walks out of the woods muttering nonsense and you agree to follow him?” his younger brother shouted.

“I am serious, I- I think I believe him.” He looked over his shoulder to his brother “I don’t know why, but I trust him. So, I’m going with him. If it’s a trap it will be dealt with swiftly, if he’s telling the truth, then… then he’s my nephew and I at least owe it to him to check for myself.” he turned his attention from his brother to the stranger in front of him “As you heard, I will go with you. Give me just a moment to ready my horse, our retainers and some supplies and we’ll be on our way.”

Dwyer tucked an arm over his torso and bowed “I appreciate your cooperation.”

The sky had fallen black with night as the party traversed the forest “Shouldn’t we be setting up camp for the night? Traveling at this hour is madness.” Leo whined from the back of their group.

“Er… no.” Dwyer muttered “My mother only gave me until noon tomorrow to get back home before she went out searching for me… at this rate we might make it back in time, but if we stopped we wouldn’t.”

Xander rode slowly alongside the teenager. He glanced down at the boy, in the dim light he was casting from his staff, he looked even more grim than he had in the twilight. 'How is any of this even possible? If you didn’t look so much like her I wouldn’t have believed you… but her features are there.' The prince who was always so confident suddenly had to muster up courage to address the gaunt young man “So, Dwyer? How did you- I mean, how are you this… old?”

Dwyer chuckled softly “I did promise to explain that, but, it may be a lot to take in.” he looked up to his uncle to gauge his reaction, he nodded for the boy to continue and so he began “I was actually born last November. But, when I was a couple of weeks old, our fort was raided and an attempt on my life was made by the Nohrians, likely ordered by King Garon after he had learned of my birth. My dad managed to save me but it was a close call, too close for my parents to be comfortable with. So, Azura, you may remember her, she had been kidnapped from Nohr several years ago, anyway, Azura told them about something called a deep realm. I would be safe from the war there, but basically, time in the deep realms passes by much more quickly, so while in your time I was born over a year or so ago, I am now physically and mentally around sixteen. And I will stay this way until this time catches up with my body, at which point I will begin to age normally again.”

Xander had no idea what to say to that, it was overwhelming to say the least, but it had raised a question he couldn’t believe he’d not asked yet “You said your father saved you… who is your father?”

Dwyer laughed again “Guess!”

“What? Why should we have to guess?” Leo griped.

“Well, we have a quite a fair distance left, it would pass some time… plus I’d like to see who you think he is.” the boy taunted.

“It does sound like a rather entertaining game, master. We can call it 'Who screwed your sister?’” Niles, who’d been silently taking in this disaster of a family reunion,  piped up playfully.

“Would you shut up and behave in a normal manner for at least five minutes?!” Leo barked to his eccentric retainer.

Xander ignored the banter between his brother and the archer who guarded him. He was far too busy watching the boy, looking for features he could separate from Corrin’s, and there was something there, something he recognised but couldn’t quite place. “Well, firstly, have I met him before?”

“Yup.” he grinned.

“Nohrian then?”

“I won’t tell you which country he was originally from. That would be too much to work with.”

Leo growled again “So what? I’m supposed to guess between all of your mother’s growing ranks of dissenters and try to figure out which one she slept with?”

“You’re rather snarky, aren’t you?” Dwyer teased, ignoring the younger prince’s complaints.

“Oooh…” Niles cooed “He’s funny. I like him.”

Leo rolled his eyes “Fine. Is it that damned knight Silas, he was always so fixated on her and I heard he’d joined her rebellion last year.”

“Nope, good guess though, he is rather fond of my mother, but he has found a wife of his own finally.” he laughed “Let’s make this more interesting, you get two more guesses, if you don’t guess correctly by then, you don’t find out until we get there. I think it’ll be funny to see your reaction when we arrive.”

Xander smirked back at him “I accept your challenge. As for my guess… well,Elise has been with your mother for some time now, her retainer Arthur?”

Dwyer folded over, laughing hysterically. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye “Hahaha, Arthur?! Nooo, oh dear, no. That was… not a good guess.”

“I’ll be honest, I’m out of ideas. Your mother couldn’t have had many Nohrians with her around when you’d have been conceived. And, besides her siblings, I don’t know any Hoshidans." Xander paused "Any ideas Leo?”

His younger brother huffed angrily “No, besides, I don’t really care. For all we know he isn’t even her son.”

Xander rolled his eyes at his brother “Alright last guess, that green haired ninja that I’ve seen following her?”

Dwyer shook his head “Nope, not even close.”

“Well, a good leader knows when to surrender and I think it’s time I give up.” Xander chuckled warmly “This should be an interesting surprise.”

They continued on in silence for awhile, the only sounds were the chirps of insects in the dark and the shuffle of the hooves and feet amongst the undergrowth.

“So, is your mother a good leader? Do they like her?” Xander asked softly.

“Yeah, everyone really loves her. She does great with them, they listen to her and trust her and I dunno… it just works I guess.” the teenager muttered as he walked.

“Well, I’m pleased to hear that. It sounds like she’s really come into her own.”

Dwyer nodded and returned to silence as they traveled further.

———————————————————————————————

The sun was high in the sky as the group reached the walls of the fort. On the watch tower stood a tall, thin man dressed in various blacks and purples. His long hair was tied back neatly and he seemed to have been waiting for them.

“Is that Jakob?” Xander asked “I didn’t know he was still with your mother. I thought they’d gotten separated before she was kidnapped…”

“That’s him. He found her and never left her side.” Dwyer answered.

“You should’ve known he’d never leave her.” Leo said off handedly as they strode closer to the gates “They’ve always been inseparable.”

The gates began to open and Jakob sprinted down the stairs, he was standing in the way of the group as they tried to enter “Dwyer! Your mother is hysterical. I’ve held her off from leaving as long as I could but she’s convinced something happened to you.” he called out before the boy even reached him.

Dwyer jogged up to him “What? What time is? She gave me until noon.”

Jakob pulled his pocket watch from his vest “It’s four past twelve.” He said quickly.

“… I’m only four minutes late.”

“Yes, but she’s been trying to form a search party since ten this morning. You know how she can be. Come on, I need to get you back to her before she actually tries to leave.”

“Jakob!” Xander boomed, interrupting the exchange "Good to see you’re still working for my sister.“

He bowed slightly "Yes, milord, it’s excellent to see you again however, I must get back to Corrin so if you’d excuse me for just a moment.”

'Since when does he not use her title?' Xander cast a glance to his brother who hadn’t even seemed to notice the lack of honorific, he was busy staring in awe after learning Dwyer had been telling the truth. 'I suppose she doesn’t really have one anymore though. And, it is a war after all, I’m sure the formality between master and servant is gone.’

“Wait, is Kana okay? Did he ever wake up?” Dwyer grabbed Jakob’s shoulder and stared at him nervously.

The butler nodded softly, a light smile adorned his lips “Yes, he woke this morning. He’s doing fine, he’s still a bit groggy but that’s to be expected.”

A delighted look spread across the young man’s face “Thank goodness… I was worried about him.”

'Who on Earth is Kana? Dwyer’s father maybe? But why would he call him by name like that…“

"Dwyer, you need to find your mother now. Please.” Jakob said firmly “I never should have let you go in the first place.”

'Why would he have had any say in what Corrin’s son does?’

“But dad, I did it. I got them here and I’m in one piece.” Dwyer interjected.

'DAD?! Jakob is his father? How could that be? I’d have never guessed… I knew he had adored Corrin, but… fathering a child with her?’

“Wait, dad?” Leo butted in, asking the question Xander had thought.

Niles sounded overly pleased with the drama “Oooh, scandalous~” he crooned.

Jakob sighed heavily “Yes, Dwyer and Kana are our sons.”

“You have two sons with my sister?” Xander blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Yes, now, I need to get him back to Corrin.” he motioned for Dwyer to follow him as he turned and walked toward a large tree in the center of the courtyard. He stopped walking and turned back toward them “I’ll be back in a few moments to help all of you get settled in.”

The pair quickly ascended a spiral staircase up the side of the massive tree and entered a door on the top balcony, disappearing from view.

Xander turned to his brother who seemed just as dumbfounded as he did “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that…”

“Wasn’t expecting what, dear?” A familiar voice met his ears, he turned quickly to see his sister walking toward him. It had been over a year since he’d last seen her.

“Camilla!” he leapt from his horse and darted toward her, wrapping her in a hug “How have you been?”

“I’ve never been better. Oh, look at you two. We’re all back together again. I couldn’t be happier. I need to find Elise, she’ll be thrilled to see you.” Camilla wiped her eyes on her palm, careful not to smear her always perfect make up in the process.

“Yes, but, first… How long have Corrin and Jakob been in a relationship?” Xander asked, his eyes had drifted back his sister’s tree house.

Camilla giggled slightly “Oh, they’re married, they have been since before I arrived. In fact when I joined her, she was pregnant with Dwyer. I delivered him and Kana.”

“Are they happy?”

“Yes, of course they are, has he ever let her go unhappy?” she asked slyly “I wasn’t pleased at first either, but they have the most loving relationship. He’s still Jakob of course, so he can be well, himself, but he’s an incredible husband and father to them. And the boys are absolutely darling. You’ve met Dwyer, obviously, and he’s… a bit dark but he’s kind, selfless and has a heart of gold. Kana is a little ray of sunshine, he looks just like his dad but he inherited Corrin’s ability to become a dragon. You’ll absolutely adore them.”

“Huh, so I have two nephews.” Xander mused.

“And a niece!” Camilla said through a warm smile.

“Wait. What!?” Leo finally spoke up, he sounded absolutely flabbergasted “Did you have a baby too?”

“Oh me? Goodness, no. But, Elise did. She had Velouria a few months ago”

“Elise. Our baby sister… had a baby?” Xander mumbled.

“She’s sixteen now, and she’s married. Though I should point out that Keaton, her husband, isn’t human. He’s a wolfskin. I thought, it might be better if you hear it from me before you see them." 

"Any other life altering information you feel like sharing?” Leo groaned.

Camilla lightly patted his hand “No to worry dear, I know this place is overwhelming but it’s one big family. You’ll come to love it.”

The prince’s and their retainers had set up their quarters and settled in. Dinner hadn’t been as uncomfortable as they had expected. The brothers sat by Camilla and watched the group’s members from a distance.  Leo focused on his sisters, Elise seemed overwhelmingly happy with the wolf-man she was eating with, teasing him playfully and tugging his steak away from him as he begged her to give it back. She giggled and dropped it back for him, scratching him behind the ears as she did. He licked her face lovingly in return and then nuzzled her flushed cheeks. Leo decided she had found someone absolutely perfect for her, he seemed to be able to handle her playful nature better than anyone else could’ve. As for Corrin, she sat proudly at the head of the table, her husband lightly brushed her hair back from face and tucked it behind her ear. Planting a kiss on her cheek, he smiled at her and returned quietly to his meal. Dwyer sat beside them, rolling his eyes at their affection, but he was smiling, he thoroughly enjoyed seeing his parents happy. Kana was pushing the food on his plate into strange shapes before laughing heartily and eating, dropping random pieces of food on his oversized neckerchief in the process. The prince smiled once more, his ealier apprehension had passed, Corrin had made a life for herself here and her family was stunning. Maybe Camilla had been correct, perhaps he would get used to it. 

Xander already seemed to be overcoming his wariness. He was chatting cheerfully with the various members of the army, in particular, a small Hoshidan farmer had taken to him. Her cheeks flushed everytime he smiled at her or glanced in her direction.

After dinner a large fire had been started and various members of the army had gathered around, laughing and talking and drinking. Dwyer, who seemed to be rather introverted in other occasions, had begun to strum a few chords on his guitar and was crooning a soft song. His younger brother was sitting beside him, clapping along to the beat. Jakob was holding Corrin to his body, rubbing her shoulder and laughing at something she’d said. Her cheeks were flushed and she was clearly content. Having her entire family, Hoshidans, Nohrians and everything in between, together again made her unspeakably happy. For the first time in ages, she had hope that this war would end. It had to.

“Can you believe it?” She whispered into Jakob’s neck.

He smiled and kissed the top of her head “No, I can’t. And I’m so proud of Dwyer.”

She giggled “I never thought I’d hear you say that!”

“Well, he really impressed me. And your siblings, all eight of them, took our marriage well. Actually, they seem to be taking all of this well.” He rubbed her shoulder again “If everything continues to go this smoothly we could be finished with this awful war before we know it." 

"I hope so… I hope they all take the rest of this well. I feel like getting them to jump off a bridge after me may not go as wonderully." 

"Darling, you are their leader as you are my leader, we all follow you. Where you go, we all go. You’ve earned their trust. They’ll believe you.” He stared at his sons as they continued to sing, their adoptive grandfather Gunter, was watching them and cheering on their performance. Jakob sighed happily “I think everything is going to be fine. Everything you do is perfection after all.”