#maybe I should post the characters now then have the backgrounds trickle in the next few weeks when I complete each one

[0xochitlsketches0]

Missing them hours :,)

[afni-fics]

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins by C_R_Scott Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Good Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parent Jack Drake, no beta we die like robins, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent

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Story Summary: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: Jack Drake had lied to Tim about his grandmother's death. However, Jack is also dead himself. Tim attempts to cope with the aftermath of learning the truth of what his father had done. Fortunately, he is not alone.

...

"Jack lied."

Lucius's words were stuck in Bruce's head as Alfred drove him into Gotham City from the Manor. They kept repeating themselves over and over and over again. After about ten minutes of focused brooding, Bruce finally voiced the question he knew he couldn't run away from.

"How did I miss this?"

From the driver's seat, Alfred glanced at Bruce via the rear-view mirror. "You had no way of knowing."

"I should have known."

"How?" Alfred's brow furrowed. "Tim didn't even know? His fa--" The old man choked on the word with a grimace, as if he'd bitten into a piece of bitter melon. He huffed irritably before continuing. "--Jack lied to him for years, and gave none of us any reason to suspect anything coming out of his mouth was false."

Bruce shook his head as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before selecting one. After three rings, the line finally connected.

"You do know it's not even noon, right?" Barbara Gordon grumbled. "What could you possibly want at this ungodly time of the morning?"

"It's about Tim."

There was moment of pause. When Barbara spoke, drowsiness had been replaced with concern in her tone. "What's wrong? Is he alright? Is he having a delayed reaction to the new Fear Toxin?"

Bruce hesitated before answering, making a quick mental note to double check Tim's bloodwork as soon as he could. If Tim was suffering a delayed Fear Toxin reaction on top of everything else, that could further complicate his son's compromised emotional state. 

"It's not about the Fear Toxin, though that could be exacerbating the situation in the background," Bruce said finally. "I need you to do some digging into Tim's family history."

"You're asking me to investigate Tim? Why? What's going on?"

"Tim was never an orphan."

"WHAT?!" 

"We just discovered today he has a living maternal grandmother," Bruce explained. "But for whatever reason Jack Drake lied to Tim and his mother eight years ago and told them both she was dead. From what I've been told, his grandmother was supposed to have had full custody of him back then. Then she got hospitalized. When she was finally well enough to be released, Jack had managed to sever all ties between her and Tim."

"Jesus Christ," Barbara breathed out softly. "Does Tim kno-- Never mind, of course he knows otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to do the investigating. Is he with you now?"

"I'm going to his place in the city with Alfred to check on him. Tracker says he's stationary at the Nest."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Do a deep dive into the history between Tim's parents and his grandmother. Her name is Susan Klein. We need to learn what exactly triggered the original custody arrangement, as well as how Jack managed to take custody away from Susan and hide the fact that she was alive from both Tim and his mother. I also want to know why the hell the courts and CPS didn't get involved back then to return Tim to his grandmother, especially after Jack died."

"You also want to find the rest of Jack's skeletons," Barbara inferred. "Because if Jack lied about something this big to his own son--"

"--What else did he lie about?--"

"--And how much damage could this do to Tim if it's brought to light?" Bruce could hear Barbara indulge in a weary sigh. "Holy shit... Ok... Ok... Ok... Give me an hour to get a shower, coffee, and food. Then I'll start digging. This is all cold case kinda stuff, so it's not going anywhere. Keep me posted if you pick up any new leads from Tim."

"Thanks Barbara."

"Oh, by the way... Who else knows about this?"

"Alfred, Lucius, and Tam."

"Alright. I'll keep this on the down low from the rest of the fam until you can check on Tim. Take care of him, Bruce."

"I will."

With the call ended, Bruce leaned back and closed his eyes. What was he going to find when they finally got the Nest?  He didn't have to wait long. About ten minutes later, Bruce and Alfred found themselves being led through Tim's home by a deeply concerned Tamara Fox.

 ...

Three months and twenty-eight days.

That's how long it took for Tim to travel around the US and the world, investigate multiple archaeological sites, survive the Council of Spiders, cripple the League of Assassins, save the girl, and return home with proof of his adopted father being alive. So much mileage, blood, and lives lost had gone into the journey to recover Bruce Wayne from the time stream Darkseid had sent him into.

Nineteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

That's all the time it took for Tim to find evidence his grandmother was alive and well and still living in the same house she always had for the past fifty years. He didn't have to leave Gotham. He didn't even have to leave his workstation. All the information was at his fingertips online. All the evidence pointed at the conclusion that his grandmother (and the truth) had always been just a few keystrokes away.

But that couldn't be right. If that was right, that meant his father lied to him and his mother. Jack Drake wouldn't have done that. So it had to be wrong. Tim just couldn't figure out how the evidence was wrong.

"Recognized: Tamara Fox. Alpha-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-One. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

The voice of Tim's AI security matrix echoed through the cavernous space of Tim's brand new "Nest", the hidden vigilante base of operations tucked behind his renovated theater home. The young man barely acknowledged the announcements, though, as he sat motionless at his workstation with his elbows propped up on the desk and his face buried in his hands. Slowly, his hands shifted, sliding down his face over closed eyes to linger over his nose and mouth. Tim drew in a breath through his nose and tried to release it slowly through his mouth. Despite his attempt at control, his breath shuddered audibly as he exhaled. Desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and shifted his hands to press against them. The adjustment exposed his mouth pressed into a grim, trembling line as he struggled to keep any sound from escaping.

Despite his best efforts, a thin trickle of moisture escaped his hands and coursed down his cheek. 

Tim heard the hidden door that connected the Nest to his living room slide open, and blindly identified the footsteps of three people walking into his inner sanctum. One of them he was certain was Tam, and he had his suspicions about the other two.

However, in order to confirm them, he would have had to remove his hands and open his eyes...

...and he was not ready to do that just yet.

 ...

The moment Bruce laid eyes on Tim, he felt his heart ache at the sight before him. There was his son, sitting alone at his workstation, and everything in his body language was silently crying out with shock and dismay. 

For a brief few seconds, Bruce froze. His mind was a panicked jumble. What could he do?! What could he say?! How was he going to fix this?! 

Then Tim slowly lifted his head from his hands, and he when he looked over at Bruce, the older man's breath got stuck in his throat. His normally confident and unwavering teenager looked so dazed and hurt and utterly lost. 

"B?"

A single letter, barely whispered, partly a question, but mostly a plea, was all it took. Bruce's feet were no longer rooted to the floor, and he quickly closed the distance between himself and his son, because his boy had called out to him.

Tim rose to his feet as he saw Bruce approach, and he let himself be wrapped up in his adopted father's arms. Bruce could feel Tim lean into him, could feel the anxious tension in every muscle in his son's back as the boy buried his face into his chest. 

"I'm here, Tim," Bruce murmured as soothingly as he could as he stroked Tim's hair. "It's going to be ok."

"I... I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Tim whispered mournfully.

"Wrong?"

"Dad said she died. He wouldn't have lied about that. He couldn't have." Unconsciously, Tim's hand fisted into Bruce's shirt, as if he were hanging on for dear life. "But Lucius says she's alive... Been alive this entire time. And the evidence..." 

As more words spilled out from his boy's mouth, Bruce heart broke at the brittle desperation in Tim's voice.

"I have to be missing something. I'm doing something wrong. I'm making a mistake somewhere and I don't know what it is." Tim drew in a shuddering breath. "Or maybe it's the Fear Toxin. An after effect? Maybe it's making me hallucinate? Mis-hear... Misinterpret things?" He turned his head from Bruce's chest and gazed uneasily at the workstation monitors. "Maybe I'm just seeing things? Maybe I'm just losing my mind?"

The fact that Tim's voice took on a hopeful edge at the thought of going crazy sent a stab of deep concern through Bruce. A quick glance at the workstation monitors showed him all the evidence Tim had dug up on his own since leaving Wayne Tower. A lump rose to his throat. When he spoke, he could barely force his own voice above a hoarse whisper. 

"You're not hallucinating, Tim. I... I can see the evidence myself."

Tim's eyes widened at the screens, then he shut them tightly before shaking his head. "No... No no no no no..."

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce glanced over to Tamara, who looked close to tears herself, but was managing to just barely hold herself together. She had one arm wrapped around herself and the other held her cell phone. He could see Lucius's name on the screen as the current active call. 

"Yes?"

Tam swallowed hard before answering. "My dad's on the line. I told him we found Tim. He... He's with Nana... Tim's grandma... right now."

Bruce felt Tim freeze in his arms. He felt his own heart stutter as well. 

"She... would like to speak with Tim, if he's able. She understands though if he's too overwhelmed right now."

Tim turned his gaze to Tam's phone, his red-rimmed blue eyes wide and warring between longing and dread.

Bruce stroked Tim's back. "You... don't have to if you don't want to," he murmured. "We can wait until you feel better... Until we figure things out on this side."

For several seconds, there was nothing but tense silence in the air. Bruce could practically see the gears turning and grinding in Tim's mind. He could see the war play out on his son's face as he struggled to make a decision. Then, finally, Tim uneasily reached out and offered an open hand to Tam.

Tam nodded and raised the phone to her own ear first. "I'm handing my phone to Tim now." Then, she carefully gave Tim the cell, watching as he wrapped his fingers about the edges of the device and raised it to his own ear. 

"H-Hello?"

Though he was still holding Tim closely, Bruce wasn't close enough to hear much of other end of the call. He could tell it was a woman's voice, but couldn't make out most of the words. But he could see his son. He watched, helpless, as after a moment Tim's eyes filled immediately with tears and spilled over onto his cheeks. One short anguished sob escaped him before he used his other hand to clamp his mouth shut. Though it stifled the sounds, Bruce could still see and feel the sobs wracking his boy's entire frame. 

As Bruce held him tighter, he could hear the tone of the woman's voice shift to something so soothing and maternal that his own heart ached along with his son's. It had the desired effect of calming Tim enough so that the could finally find his voice once more. 

"I love you, too, Nana," he whimpered softly. Then, he stretched out his hand and gave the phone back to Tam, who was in tears herself as she took it back. 

Once his hands were free and the phone was pressed again to Tam's ear as she spoke with her father, Tim crumpled to the floor as he burst into tears once more, this time without restraint. Bruce followed him down to control his fall and let his son cried brokenheartedly against him.

"He lied," Tim keened between sobs. "He lied... He lied... He lied..."

Tears coursed down Bruce's face as he watched his son come apart at the seams. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Alfred gazing at him with love, sorrow, and tear-filled eyes as well. Though long dead, Jack Drake had broken their beloved boy's heart, and they would be damned if they didn't do their best to put the pieces back together again and make things right for everyone involved.

...

Author's Notes:

Author's Note: This was a challenging chapter to write. I hope I did Tim's breakdown justice. Things will, hopefully, start looking up for him from this point onward for a bit.

As for the length of time I put down as Tim's search for Bruce during the origin Red Robin run, this was just a wild guess on my part. In the comics, there was a map on a page in the first issue showing a map with pins on where he had previously investigated. Based on that, I estimated he had been travelling nonstop for at least several months before being intercepted by Ra's and getting dragged into the League and Council drama along with Tam.

#tim drake#tam fox#tim/tam#red robin#fanfiction#wip#rr: in hindsight#batfam#batfamily#lucius fox#bruce wayne

[commander-rahrah]

RESIDENCY: SECOND CHANCES (AN OPEN HEART FIC II): PART ONE

Pairing: MC (Jordynne Holland) X Ethan Ramsey X Bryce Lahela; MC X Bryce; MC X Ethan. Please note that both pairings are present in this fan fiction — off & on, at the same times, and the relationships do ebb & flow. Please keep this in mind. Thank you.

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: T 

Word Count: 4100+

Description: What happens between the end of Book One, and the start of Book Two.  Picking up from the ending of Open Heart Book 1 and the last chapter of Residency (masterlist posted above)

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: Annnnnnd we are back with Residency Part Two! Second Chances! I really wanted to explore what led to Ethan leaving for South America… For Two Months… Your girl hates a time jump and she hates even more when there are missed opportunities for angst and drama!!

As always any likes, reblogs, and comments are very appreciated. If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list please just let me know!

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy @owleyes374 @lahelable @mayar-mahdy @paisleylovergirl @nicquix @emilymay100 @octobereighth @llamasgrl @timmagicktoad @lilyofchoices @msjpuddleduck @mfackenthal @paulfwesley @ccolz88-blog @mindlessdreaminxo @jooous @lapisreviewsstuff @choicesarehard @themingdynasty @omgjasminesimone @hopelessly-shipper  @binny1985  @perriewinklenerdie  @jens-diamondchoices  @indiacater  @chasingrobbie  @writingsbymissy  @dimitriwife  @tacohead13  @amy-choices  @violinet

Previous Updates: Residency — Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen Part Twenty

Previous Update

PART ONE:

Light trickled in through the office window — casting everything in a yellow light. The leather books lining the walls — some of the spines worn from years of referencing them. Framed diplomas and awards on the walls — not put up by him, but by the adamant advice of the board. They wanted to show off their decorated diagnostician.

Ethan Ramsey was leaning back in his desk chair, surveying the space around him carefully. Re-familiarizing himself with the space after his time away.

But now he was back.

His decision to come back was his own. But he was blindsided by everything else — Harper stepping down and Naveen replacing her was a shock. He was conflicted thinking of Naveen as administration now — hopeful that perhaps he had someone on his side now, but strained in wondering if it was really what the old man wanted.

And then there was Jordynne.

No — Doctor Holland, he corrected himself.

As he thought of her, images immediately began to play in his head like a slideshow. The previous night and how they had gotten lost in each other. The intimacy and passion and pleasure they shared in her tiny bedroom.

How intriguing it had been to see her personality and life displayed to him throughout her bedroom. The framed photos of her family on the walls, her perfectly organized, color coded bookshelf but her chaotic closet spilling at the seams. Ethan never thought he could be that excited at seeing someone else’s stacks of books on a nightstand — but with her he was.

And then their conversation. It wasn’t really a conversation — more of a quiet understanding. They both knew what it meant with him coming back to the hospital. But as he had opened his mouth to speak about it, Jordynne had silenced him with a kiss.

“Just be here with me — right now. Okay?” She had whispered through the kisses.

So that’s what he did.

But now — back in his pressed pants and lab coat, sitting in his office — his head was swimming. Going back to the way things were — he wasn’t sure how to do that. It was a lot harder now. A lot more complicated.

Ethan Ramsey had always been a man of conviction. Rules and regulations. Usually, they were his own rules, that were made with the official ones in mind that he would bend and twist as needed. So he had made a line for him and Jordynne — that wasn’t to be crossed. But they did — time and time again.

Now that she was going to be on the Diagnostics team, that line seemed more complicated than ever. He was her boss now — her direct report, not just her attending. But that also meant that they would be spending more time together than ever.

Why did Naveen put them in this situation?

Standing up abruptly, the chair behind him moved backward from being knocked by the backs of his knees.

Marching down the hallway, Ethan headed towards the elevator. He had a few glances at him in it — other staff whispering about him being back. But he had kept his arms crossed over his torso, keeping his guard up as to not initiate any conversations.

His leather dress shoes clicked down the hall as he made his way to the Chief of Medicine’s office. The door was already open.

“Ahh, Ethan. It took you longer than I anticipated to come see me up here.” Naveen spoke as he stepped away from hanging up a frame on the wall. He stepped back, putting his hands on his hips and looked at Ethan with a smile.

“I needed to process.” He stepped into the room, his hand hovering on the doorknob.

Naveen noticed, “Close the door.” The pair shuffled towards his desk and sat on opposite sides of it.

Ethan glanced over to see the frame he had been hanging — it was the pair of them, accepting an award. The same photo that was hanging on his living room wall.

“So, my friend, what is it your processing?”

“Why you’re in that chair.”

“Because,” He thought for a moment — his finger moving over his moustache, “Because we need to make sure that Edenbrook can continue to do good things. Harper’s heart wasn’t in it, anyone could see that. So, we needed to make sure that someone who knew how good this place is took this chair.”

“I— I just never thought you would be administration.”

Naveen let out a low belly laugh, “Me neither. But a few days ago, I had also accepted my fate that I was going to be a cadaver. You just never know.”

“Hmm,” Ethan grunted.

“That’s not what’s really bothering you.” His mentor had always known how to read him — he should have known better.

He let out a sigh — hesitating before finally speaking, “I really wish you considered it more before you decided to put Dr. Holland on the diagnostics team.”

Naveen’s eyebrows rose, “You think I didn’t think it through? Is there another resident you would rather have on your team?”

“No — I, of course not.” He shook his head, scoffing, “I don’t want to work with any of those imbeciles.”

“So Dr. Holland is the correct decision.”

“Yes. No. It’s—“

“Complicated?” Naveen offered with a smirk.

Ethan let out another heavy sigh, “Yes.”

“Ethan — I thought it would be less complicated for you by making the final decision. I selected her — not you. And I have my own reasons for doing so.” He leaned back in his chair, studying him, “She’s damn good.”

“She is.” He didn’t miss a beat.

“So you agree. Perfect.”

Ethan stumbled on his words, “I— she — we,”

A chuckle escaped Naveen, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so flustered before.”  

For a moment, he dropped the act. “I just thought that with me coming back — it would be different. You are healthy again, so there isn’t a secret case. She’s a resident now, not an intern. But now — she’s on my team, she’s my direct report. Distancing myself from her — how is that going to work now?”

His thick eyebrows furrowed with worry, “You want to distance yourself from her? Do you really think that will work?”

No.

He answered in his head. When he saw her down the hallway that morning it had made his heart flutter. The smallest of things, even on the off chances of seeing her — the way she tightened her ponytail, when he got a whiff of her perfume, her quick jabs back when he got sarcastic, the way the corner of her eyes stretched when she laughed.

“Maybe.” He said out loud.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease...”

A dark-haired man was sitting stunned on a chair in the sterile hallway — his hands folded carefully onto his lap as he processed.

Jordynne stood in front of him, a clipboard clutched to her chest as she looked between him and through the room’s window at the woman she had just diagnosed. She had been observing her and doing tests for the majority of the morning.

“Can — can it be cured?” He stuttered.

“No,” she said simply — a sad smile spreading across her face. “But it can managed and treated.”

He looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowing a little less. “I — I have no idea what to do. My dad dealt with all this stuff for her and now—,”

Jordynne slid into the chair next to him, her body angled towards him a little. “I know it's a lot to take in. But we can discuss treatment options, pain management.”

A grateful smile spread across his face, “That — that would help. Thank you.”

“How about we get you a coffee, and I’ll get paged once your mother wakes up?” She offered.

With a nod, the pair stood up and made their way to the cafeteria. Jordynne grabbed a coffee for the man, and a green tea for herself — she knew better by now than to drink the cafeteria’s attempt at caffeine.

They settled into a table near the window — and they took a moment to watch the pedestrians strolling by.

“So, what can we do? For my mom?” He broke the silence after taking a long sip of his coffee.

Jordynne wrapped her fingers around her own cup — warming up her fingers. “Honestly, one of the best things she can do is quit smoking. But we can start her with an inhaler — a combination of steroids and bronchodilators. If it progresses, she may need oxygen therapy… or surgery.”

Her patient’s son’s eyes went wide as he listened to the information, “Could it lead to cancer?”

“She has a higher risk of developing lung cancer.” She stated simply, her eyes studying him.

“That’s how we lost Dad…” He looked out of the window — suddenly looking lost.

“I’m sorry, Justin.”  She chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“Don’t be. You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” His mouth spread into a smile — it was nice. “Besides, I would be completely clueless about all of this if it weren’t for you. You’re very intelligent.”

“Oh, thank you,” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the compliment. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Well, you are very good at it. I couldn’t imagine, doing something like this.” He pointed up, indicating to the many floors of patients above them.

“What do you do?”

“I work at a marketing firm.”

“That sounds exciting.”

“Ha,” He let out a dry laugh, “It’s different than this for sure. I sit in a cubicle and stare at a computer all day.”

Jordynne crinkled her brows, “But you like it, right?”

He thought for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Then that’s what matters...” But her voice trailed off as she watched Ethan step up to the coffee station nearby. She could hear the mutter of Justin’s voice in front of her — but couldn’t make out any of the words.

Should she say something to him? Would it be more weird if she didn’t say anything at all?

“Dr. Ramsey, hi?” Her voice was uncertain as she watched him nervously pour creamer into his travel mug.

“Dr. Holland!” He jumped at the sound of her voice — his open mug spilling onto his dress shirt. “Ow!” He winced as the hot coffee split on him.

“Ohmygosh,” She got up quickly and crossed over to him. Without thinking about it, she grabbed a handful of napkins and started plotting his blue dress shirt.

Ethan watched her for a moment before he stepped back with a cough, “It’s quite alright, Dr. Holland. I can take it from here.”

She stepped back embarrassed — realizing what she was doing. Looking over her shoulder she remembered where she was. “Dr. Ramsey, this is Justin Ramirez — Mrs. Ramirez’s son, my patient in 515.”

He finished wiping his hands on a napkin before crossing over and putting his hand out to shake. “Sorry to meet you in these circumstances,” They shook hands for a moment, “I can assure you that your mother is in great care with Dr. Holland.”

“Thanks, I’ve seen that.”

Her face went pink at the compliment as she stood awkwardly near the table — unsure if she should sit or stand. She wasn’t really sure how to act right now. “We’re just reviewing treatment plans.” She blurted out.  

“Right...,” He looked between the two of them, his blues eyes scrutinizing, “Well make sure you save the time to explain it to the patient too, Dr. Holland.” With a nod, he tightened the hold on his travel mug before turning on his heel and heading out the cafeteria door.

“Sorry about that — I,”

“No worries, I—“ But Justin trailed off, looking over her shoulder.

Jordynne jumped in her chair a little as she felt someone grab onto her shoulder. Straining her neck, she looked up the see Bryce — his mouth upturned in his usual wide smile. “Hey gorge—,” But he stopped himself as he realized she wasn’t alone. “I’m sorry, I thought you were alone, Dr. Holland.”

Moving his hand off of her shoulder, he stretched it across the table, “I’m Dr. Lahela.”

“Hi, Justin Ramirez.” He said, shaking yet another hand in the hospital cafeteria.

“Mrs. Ramirez’s son? In room 515? I’ll be going up there later this afternoon to discuss surgery options.”

“Right.”

“Well, I will see you up there later then. Dr. Holland — we’re still ok for lunch?” His caramel eyes caught hers, the edges crinkling as he smiled down at her.

She gulped, “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

Did her voice sound squeaky? It sounded squeaky.

“You’re a popular doctor.” Justin said after Bryce had walked away.

“Or it’s just a small cafeteria.” She let out a sigh of relief as her pager went off, “Looks like your Mom woke up.”

“Yeah? Good, let’s go.”

Jordynne lingered at the table for a moment longer — letting him get a few paces ahead of her. Swallowing, she resolved herself a bit before following in behind him.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Two months.”

Ethan was back in Naveen’s office — his feet planted in front of his desk. He was staring down at the old man, watching him read the application he had sat down in front of him.

“Two months?” Naveen repeated, finally looking up at Ethan. His eyebrows were furrowed, deep lines forming in his forehead.

He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, “In South America.” He said it as neutral as possible.

Naveen reread over the page, flipping it back and forth. His mouth turned into a frown, “When you said distance yourself I didn’t think you meant flying to a different continent.”

Neither had Ethan. But it had fallen onto his lap. An unopened email he had long forgotten about in the chaos of the last few days.

He had forgotten he had even thrown his name into the ring — reaching out to the World Health Organization to volunteer. For literally anything. Anywhere.

It had been a way to get away from Edenbrook and Boston. A way to forget about his failure. Failures. Multiple.

But now — it could just be for a break. A reset.

To distance himself.

“Sign it.”

“No.” The Chief of Medicine barked, putting the papers back down and pushing them towards Ethan.

“Naveen—“

He straightened up — setting his jawline as he stared at him. “Not until you tell me why.”

“I can’t,” Ethan let out with a sigh. “I— I need more time. I’m not ready.”

“Ready for what?” Naveen raised a brow, “You’ve been running the diagnostics team since I left.”

“To act like I don’t...,” He trailed off, “To act like I don’t care for her. The way I do. The way a boss shouldn’t. I’m not ready.”

“Fine.” The old man signed the form, placing it carefully on the edge of his table for Ethan to take, “When this doesn’t work — don’t come crying to me. I warned you.”

_______________________________________________________________________

The next day came by in a blur. Jordynne had missed all this — her suspension had proved how much she loved being a doctor.

She hadn’t missed giving people life-changing diagnoses — but that was apart of the job description. She was leaning against Danny’s nurse station, watching Justin saying goodbye to his mother through the window to her room.

He had come in to check on her before going to work. They had decided to hold her for another day of observation, but he couldn’t take any more time off.

Watching the son and mother hug made her heartache. Her homesickness had never been worse.

Blinking back to reality, she watched as Justin approached her — a sad smile on his face.

She pushed herself off of the nurse’s station and headed towards him, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just wish I could stay longer.”

“Well, I assure you that your mother is in the best care. Danny is the charge nurse for this shift, and honestly, he could probably run this whole building.” She assured him.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a folded paper, “Here, I wanted to give you my number...”

Her green eyes widened in shock, “Oh! I’m flattered but—“

But he quickly stopped her, “For my mom’s file. In case something happens.”

“Right. I’m an idiot.” Jordynne felt her entire face turn hot with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I don’t—“

“No! You’re really not.” It was his turn to reassure her now, “I thought about it actually,” He lowered his voice a little, “I was gonna ask you out.”

“Oh?” She blinked in surprise.

“I mean — you’re incredibly smart and hot and like, just the right amount of intimidating.” He laughed nervously, “But I got the sense that you were already seeing someone. When that doctor came over and introduced himself yesterday in the cafeteria?”

Which one?

Jordynne thought to herself. God, she seriously was the worst person.

“It’s probably not a good idea to date my mom’s doctor anyways.”

She nodded with pursed lips — taking the sticky note he had offered and placing carefully onto her clipboard.  She hugged it to her chest, “If there are any updates throughout the day, we’ll give you a call.”

She forced a smile on her face — trying to hide the winding gears going off in her mind.

_______________________________________________________________________

At the end of her shift, Jordynne was wrapping up the rest of her paperwork. She and her friends were hovering around the nurse’s station — itching to get out on time for once so they could head down to Donahue’s and get a good spot for once.

Just as she slid the last of her patient’s charts over to the charge nurse, the intercom buzzed.

“Dr. Holland to Chief of Medicine’s office. Dr. Holland to Chief of Medicine’s office.”

“What’s that about?” Sienna quickly asked — her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah — I thought everything was good?” Elijah piped in.

“It is.” She raised her hands up, trying to calm them down, “Seriously.”

“It’s only day two of her being back. What’s the Chief of Medicine’s going to want anyway?” Jackie piped in, shrugging her shoulders as she finished up her own paperwork.

“Yeah, plus she did save the dude’s life.” Bryce offered, leaning casually onto the station. He was right next to Jordynne — she swore she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Right...,” Sienna and Elijah said in sync.

“Seriously, I’ll be okay. I’ll meet you guys at Donahue’s.” She started to turn on her heel, but fingers grabbing onto her elbow stopped her.

It was Bryce. “I’ll save you a seat.” He said simply, before flashing her a brilliant smile and letting go of her arm.

“Thanks,” She breathed in, feeling a little winded all of the sudden. Turning on her heel, she blinked back to reality and started heading towards the elevator.

She knocked gently on Naveen’s office door — before a soft voice told her to come in. Stepping inside, her eyes were immediately drawn to the old man sitting behind the desk — a warm smile was spread across his face.

“Hi, Dr. Banerji,” Jordynne said as she closed the door softly behind her.

“Now,” He got up to greet her, moving around from behind the desk, “How many times do I have to tell you — it’s Naveen, my girl.”

“You’re the Chief of Medicine. I can’t call you that.”

“And you’re the young doctor who saved my life.” He motioned for her to take a seat, before doing the same, “And besides, we are friends and we respect each other. So it’s Naveen.”

“Okay. Naveen.” Her mouth has turned upward — a warm sensation of pride filling her chest.

“So, how does it feel to be back?”

“I’m... ecstatic. And grateful.” She paused for a moment, before continuing, “Everything that I went through — the trial, and suspension — it just really showed me how this is what I’m meant to do.”

“I couldn’t agree more. And how do you feel about the fellowship?”

“Excited.” She said quickly — but chewing the inside of her lip gave her away, “But nervous at the same time. It will be —“

“Different?” He offered.

“Mhmm.” She hummed.

“Well, it will start in about two months' time. Once the new wing is completed, the diagnostics team will have a brand new office and your fellowship will commence.” Naveen hesitated before licking his lips, “It will also coincide with Ethan’s return.”

Jordynne furrowed her brows in confusion, “What do you mean? He’s already back.”  

“Ah — so I see he has left that part for me.” He avoided her stare for a moment.

“I don’t— what are you talking about?”

“Ethan has accepted a team lead position for a project with the World Health Organization. They are going to be stationed in the Amazon.”

Her mouth fell open, “The Amazon? Rainforest? In South America?”

“For two months.”

“Two... Two months?” She couldn’t help but repeat everything back she was hearing. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“I’m sorry he didn’t tell you himself.”

She could tell by Naveen’s tone that he did not approve of Ethan’s decisions.

“I— I don’t understand. He just got back.”

“What I’m thinking is, his world just got turned upside down. He doesn’t do change very well. Perhaps this will let him straighten things out.” He said it like it was a practiced line.

“By living in the rainforest for 2 months? How will that get him back to normal?” She asked, completely exasperated.

“No idea!” He let out a dry laugh, “You should tell him that.”

“When does he leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. He actually just wrapped up for the day — so he can prepare.”

Her shoulders sank — he left. Without telling her any of this. Without a goodbye. Was she supposed to just walk past his office and figure it out? Get an out of office email notification back?

“You can still catch him. Go to the parkade.” He winked a brown eye at her, waving his hands to shoo her out of the door.

Jumping out of her seat, she started speed walking down the hallway — weaving past the few administration staff lingering in them. Some of them flashed her some odd looks, but a doctor speeding through a hallway wasn’t the weirdest thing to see in a hospital.

When she got to the parkade door, she took a big breath, tucked some of the hair falling out of her ponytail behind her ear, and pushed through the door.

Her green eyes searched for his familiar black car, walking as she looked. She stopped in her tracks as she noticed him — his hand lingering on his open door as he went to go sit in his car.

So he really was going to just leave without saying anything.

“Were you even gonna say goodbye?” She asked — her voice echoing a little in the concrete parkade.

His head whipped around to her voice, his eyes wide as he stared at her. Closing the door to his Mercedes, he took a few long strides until he was a few feet away from her.

“I — Who told you?” He avoided meeting her stare.

“Naveen.”

He let out a sigh, “Of course.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” She said, her jaw set into a hard line.

“I — I wasn’t not going to say goodbye.” He put his hands in his jacket pocket — clearly nervous. “Things just happened so fast.”

“Right.” She didn’t look like she believed him, “So South America?”

“Mostly Peru and Brazil.”

“Malaria?”

He nodded in reply.

Confusion spread across her face, causing a line to form in between her brows, “Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Why are you really going, Ethan?”

“People are suffering and I can help them.” He stated simply.

“The same thing is happening here in Boston.” She countered, crossing her arms of her chest.

“Well, I made a commitment to the organization. So I’m going.”

She let out an involuntary sigh, “I thought we were going to try and be normal about all of this, Ethan.”

“This is normal. I’m a highly qualified diagnostician and doctor who is traveling to a region in desperate need of quality medical assistance and advancement.”

She shook her head at him, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, that’s the reason.” His tone was flat and final.

“Fine.” She bit down on her bottom lip, “Safe travels.”

He nodded in thanks. The pair standing in awkward silence for a moment — finally meeting one another’s eye. She searched his blue eyes — looking for even just the smallest glint of something. But she couldn’t find it — his well-practiced mask was already on and it seemed it wasn’t going to be coming off.

Jordynne let out a sigh that echoed through the parkade, before turning on her heel and marching away. The heavy metal door let out a large bang as it closed behind her.

Part Two

[longclawislightbringer]

Arya Stark and the Green-Eyed Monster Chapter Three: Unexpected Occurrences

Rating: T

Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Elinor Tyrell/Gendry Waters, Arya Stark/Trystane Martell, background Jon Snow/Sansa Stark

Characters: Arya Stark, Gendry Waters, Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Elinor Tyrell, Hot Pie, Trystane Martell

Summary: Arya decides to tell Gendry about her feelings on the train back to Hogwarts after the holidays, but Gendry has some news for her that throws her for a loop.

Still posting this up here lol. 

As always, thanks to my beta sansapotter, who is on AO3 and Tumblr.

Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four.

Also on AO3.

Chapter Three: Unexpected Occurrences

Students crowded the corridor of the Hogwarts Express. Arya shuffled past, lugging her maroon suitcase to her favorite compartment, number fifteen on the third car. Sliding open, the door thunked against the side wall. Arya dragged her suitcase over the threshold before closing the door behind her. Tossing the suitcase onto the rack above her head, she flung herself onto the blue couch on one side next to the window. She unlooped the scarf from her neck and divested herself of her coat, chucking it onto the empty seat next to her. A piece of parchment crinkled in her back pocket. She removed the paper from her pocket, turning it over in her hands. Gendry’s response to her last letter had been brief, just a few lines on the horrific tension between his father and his stepmother on the behavior of his half-brother, and then an addendum that he had something to tell her too. She took a deep breath.

The soft click of the opening door startled her from her reverie. She crumpled the note to stash it back in her pocket before turning her attention to the shadowy figure at the door.

“Milady,” Gendry nodded to her as he entered the compartment, carrying his case like it weighed no more than a feather. He hefted the case onto the luggage rack with ease and sank into the seat cushion opposite her with a satisfied smile. Arya almost forgot to breathe.

"Gendry, I . . ." The words would not come out. Swallowing, she shifted in her seat. Gendry searched her face; her heart raced even faster. "I . . ."

The door to the compartment slid open again.

"Hold that thought," Gendry suggested as Hot Pie yanked his bag into the compartment, followed closely by Elinor Tyrell.

"Hey Arya," Hot Pie greeted her as stored his bag and joined Gendry on the couch across from her. Elinor glided in, sliding the door shut behind her and latching it. Arya begrudgingly removed her jacket from the seat so Elinor could sit down.

“Let me get that for you.” Gendry sprang from his seat to help Elinor with her suitcase.

Elinor smiled shyly, handing him the case.

Arya leaned around Gendry when he placed it onto the luggage rack above her head to send Hot Pie a confused look.

Hot Pie shrugged his shoulders in response.

“Thanks, honey.” Elinor cooed.

“Honey?” Hot Pie mouthed to her. Arya froze. She could feel the blood draining from her face as Elinor settled into the seat next to her.

The train whistle blew, loud and sharp, like the scream in Arya's head.

“I hope you don’t mind Elinor joining us for the train ride,” Gendry began, “but I wanted to introduce her to you guys properly—as my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Arya’s stomach dropped as the wheels squeaked. The Hogwarts Express lurched forward.

“I’m so excited to get to know you.” Elinor smiled. “Gendry’s told me so much about you both.”

Arya plastered on her fake smile again as the train picked up speed.

“That’s so wonderful,” she squeaked through gritted teeth.

“It’s nice to meet you, Elinor. Officially, I mean.” Hot Pie stuck out a hand for Elinor to shake. Elinor laughed, taking his hand.

“Likewise.”

Elinor flashed Arya a dazzling smile.

“I hope we’ll be great friends.” She stuck out her hand again. Arya glanced between Elinor’s outstretched hand and the earnest smile that stretched to her eyes. Warily, she took it. Elinor shook it fast in a vice-like grip.

“Great,” Gendry interjected, leaning against the back of his seat with his hands behind his head. “Now that that’s taken care of, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Arya blanched. Her erratic pulse picked up again. Gendry’s note in her back pocket felt like lead.

“It’s nothing,” she deflected, searching for a plausible excuse. “Just some new Quidditch strategies I wanted to discuss with you. Can’t very well talk about them now.” She huffed, crossing her arms.

Elinor laughed. Her laugh sounded like tinkling bells.

Arya hated it.

Not really. But why did Elinor have to be so willowy, tall, and perfect?

“Well,” Elinor announced. “I’m going to read. Let me know when the trolley stops by, won’t you honey?” She pulled the latest edition of The Quibbler from her fashionable purse, curling up on the seat like a cat while the train chugged along the track.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Hot Pie piped up from the corner as he nestled into the seat cushion. The train rattled on beneath them.

Arya sent her best friend a glare that would wither a plant along with an accompanying scowl.

“What?” He mouthed.

Arya gestured with her head to Elinor.

Gendry squinted in confusion.

Arya smacked her forehead, before gesturing dramatically to the girl quietly reading next to her. Elinor turned a page.

Gendry shrugged in reply.

Arya huffed and crossed her arms.

It was going to be a long ride.

***

Arya, Gendry, Hot Pie, and Elinor stood with a gaggle of students in the atrium outside the Great Hall. Arya tapped her foot against the floor.

“What’s gotten into you?” Gendry whispered to her.

“Nothing.” Arya crossed her arms.

“I can’t wait for this feast,” Hot Pie commented. “I’m absolutely famished.”

“That’s because you slept through the Trolley witch like you do every trip,” Gendry laughed. Elinor put a hand on his shoulder, giggling. Arya scowled.

The doors to the Great Hall swung open on silent hinges. Throngs of hungry students crushed into the room. Arya hung back, waiting for the crowd to pass.

“I’ll see you after the feast,” Elinor called to Gendry as she headed inside toward the Slytherin table.

Gendry started for the door, but Arya tugged on his sleeve, pulling him back.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” she whispered.

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he followed her into an alcove next to the stairs.

“Elinor? Really?” Arya huffed, hands on her hips.

“What’s wrong with her?” Gendry demanded. "She's really nice and clever, and she likes me." Arya crossed her arms. Gendry rolled his eyes. "Besides, it's not even—" He interrupted himself. “Never mind. It’s not important.” He looked her in the eyes; the butterflies came back. “You sure you’re not jealous?”

“What? No,” she spluttered, uncrossing her arms as her stomach did somersaults. She was so jealous she could punch a wall, but she would not tell Gendry that. Not now. Maybe not ever. She sighed. “I’m just upset that you sprung it on us. It felt like it came out of nowhere.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry.” He leaned against the wall. “I should have let you guys know earlier that I was talking to her. But Arry,” he put a hand on her shoulder and smiled softly, “never forget that you’re my best friend. No one can replace you.”

Arya almost lost herself in his eyes again. She was sure her starry-eyed expression would give her away, but Gendry either didn’t notice or neglected to comment. “Okay . . .” She breathed.

“I would like it you would give Elinor a chance though.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

“Alright. I’ll talk to her. But I can’t guarantee I’ll like her. Deal?” She stuck out her hand.

“Deal.” Gendry shook it. He grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her toward the Great Hall.

“Alright, let’s head into that feast so we can celebrate before the real studying begins.”

***

Arya 's boots clunked on the stones as she crossed the courtyard on her way to the forge. Her breath came out in tiny bursts of air. Shivering in the late January wind, she pulled her scarf tighter. Her knapsack bounced against her leg with every step.

Passing a group of giggling first years, she made a sharp left toward the grounds. She shouldered her knapsack before starting down the stone steps to the forge. A pillar of smoke rose from the still obscured forge, located in the back corner of campus, away from any flammable buildings. Arya smiled.

The wind zipped around her, playing with the edges of her scarf. Gendry would be happy to see her; he’d tease her and call her “Milady.” With all the fuss around his new relationship with Elinor, they hadn’t had much time to just be Gendry and Arya, best friends for life. That and also the fact that she was so in love with him that she sometimes couldn’t talk around him. She frowned. Elinor better not be down there too.

The path swerved to the right. As Arya rounded the corner, the forge came into view. She stopped cold, mesmerized by the sight before her. Gendry held a piece of iron in the open flames. A trickle of sweat dripped down between his bare shoulders toward the divots in the small of his back. He left the metal in the forge, tossing his tongs to the side so he could wipe his brow. The ends of his hair lay plastered to his forehead. After a moment's breath, he pulled the tempered iron from the fire and took it to the anvil. Arya gulped as he turned. The muscles in his shoulders and arms rippled as he pounded the iron blow by blow into a sword.

Truly, Arya was an idiot.

She started down the path again.

The bang of the hammer on the soft metal rang out throughout the field. Sparks flew from the iron with every stroke. When Arya reached the bottom of the stairs, Gendry dunked the finished sword into a bucket of cold water. The metal hissed; steam rose into the air. He pulled the sword from the water and left it to cool on the table. Arya pulled her knapsack from her shoulder to rifle through it for some Quidditch plays.

“Gendry!” came a voice from just inside the door to the forge.

Arya stopped.

Elinor stepped into view. Gendry smiled at his girlfriend.

Arya imagined this might be what the sword felt like when the cold water doused its heat. Without a word to either of them, she turned on her heels and walked briskly back up the steps. Stupid Elinor. She stuck her knapsack strap into her mouth and let out a muffled scream. She stomped all the way back up the stairs and into the castle, ignoring the questioning glances of the other students.

As she stormed into the Gryffindor Common Room, Sansa looked up from her book.

“Arya, are you alright?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Arya fumed, stalking through the chairs towards the stairs to the girl’s dormitories. She darted up the stairs in a fury. Slamming the door to her dorm shut behind her, she hurled herself into bed.

“I am such an idiot,” she mumbled into her pillow.

***

A few days later, the Great Hall filled with the quiet chatter of the few students awake well before breakfast. Arya sat alone at the Gryffindor table, staring at her Arithmancy notes. A few other early risers milled around the hall. The equations swam in front of her eyes as she tapped her pencil against her head.

“Why doesn’t this make sense?” She muttered to herself. Dainty footsteps approached the table. Arya didn’t bother to look up from her work.

“Good morning, Arya,” Elinor appeared over her shoulder.

Arya snapped her pencil in half. The pieces landed on the table.

Elinor flinched.

“Sorry, you startled me,” Arya apologized.

Elinor wrung her hands together. “I wondered if I could talk to you.”

“Sure, I guess.” Arya closed her notebook, motioning to the empty space on the bench beside her. Elinor paced back and forth. “What was it you wanted to talk about? Did Gendry do something stupid?” Elinor took the proffered seat.

“What? No. It’s just that. . .” Elinor worried her hands, before looking Arya in the eye. “Do you hate me?”

“What?” Arya furrowed her brow. “I don’t hate you. Where would you get that idea?”

"It's just that every time Gendry and I try to hang out with you, you make some excuse and leave."

Arya smacked her forehead. She had been avoiding them.

“I’m just going through something . . . personal. It's hard to explain. Gendry is one of the most important people in the world to me.” A soft smile crossed her face as she twirled a strand of her hair. “So as long as you don’t break his heart, you’re alright in my book.”

“I’m glad.” Elinor’s knowing smile gave Arya the heebie-jeebies; it seemed like Elinor had looked into her very soul and discovered the source of her distress. “I hope you know that I’m not trying to take him away from you.” Elinor winked. Arya blinked, confused. “Friends?” Elinor stuck out her hand.

“Friends,” Arya nodded as she gave a firm handshake.

“So, what seems to be the problem here?” Elinor asked, pulling Arya’s notebook across the table as she scooted closer.

“Arithmancy,” Arya explained. “I can never quite seem to get the hang of it.”

"Don't worry; my grandmother taught me a trick that makes it super easy to remember. Show me which problem you're having trouble with, and I'll teach it to you."

“Really? You’d do that?” Arya picked up the pieces of her pencil to hand one to Elinor.

“That’s what friends are for,” Elinor grinned.

***

Arya sprinted up the stairs, clutching the results of her Arithmancy exam in her hands. The staircase rumbled before swinging across the yawning chasm to the other side of the hall. She gripped the handrail, waiting at the top. When it crashed into place, Arya raced up the rest of the stairs to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

“Hello,” Arya greeted the Fat Lady as she climbed the last step to the landing.

“Nice to see you still have some manners on occasion,” the Fat Lady replied.

Arya rolled her eyes.

“Butterbeer.”

The door unlocked with a click and drifted open.

“See you next time.” Arya climbed inside the circular door to the common room.

“Goodbye little Stark,” the portrait swung closed.

Gendry and Robb occupied a pair of red armchairs near the fireplace. Robb pointed to something on the piece of parchment on the table in front of them.

Arya tiptoed, sticking closer to the other students on the opposite side of the room, hoping Robb and Gendry ignored her.

“Arya!” Robb shouted.

Too late. Arya pivoted to face them. “Hey Robb, Gendry. I didn’t see you there.” She made her way over.

“How’d you do on that Arithmancy test?” Gendry asked.

Arya flushed, stuttering, “Actually, I got an E.”

"That's wonderful." Stupid Gendry with his stupid pretty face and his stupid smile that made her melt like candle wax. "Elinor told me she helped you study."

Her smile faltered as an uneasiness built in her stomach.

“She was super helpful.” She turned to Robb. “Have you seen Sansa? There's something I need to talk to her about.”

“I think she’s in her room.”

"Thanks. See you guys later." Arya bolted to the stairs, feet pounding in time to her heartbeat. She leaped up the circular staircase to the dormitories, two steps at a time, until she stopped in front of the room for sixth-year girls. She knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came Sansa’s muffled reply.

“I need help,” Arya exclaimed as she barrelled through the door. Painting her nails, Sansa sat cross-legged on her bed across the room.

“What’s wrong?” Sansa capped the tiny bottle of periwinkle polish. “I thought you were confident about your Arithmancy test?”

“What.” Arya shook her head. “It’s not that. I actually got an E on that.” She handed Sansa her crumpled exam, the E inked in bright red at the top. “It’s more of a girl type problem.”

Sansa clutched her chest. “I never thought I’d see the day.” She patted the bed next to her. Arya jumped up, dangling her legs over the side.

“I have this—” Sansa inched closer, hanging on every word. Arya arched a brow."—friend, who recently discovered that she's been in love with her best friend for a really long time." Arya played with fraying threads on Sansa's embroidered quilt. "She wants to tell him how she feels, but she doesn't want to mess up their friendship, plus he just got a new girlfriend. And I . . ." Sansa's eyes widened at her mistake. "I mean, 'she,' thinks the new girlfriend is a nice person, so she doesn't want to mess up their relationship. What should she do?" Arya raised her head.

Sansa sat for a moment, mulling the questions over. At last, she spoke. "Speaking from personal experience, it's never a good idea to keep a secret like that from your best friend. If I were in her shoes, I would tell him, but make sure he understands that she respects his relationship and that she doesn't expect anything in return. But really it's up to her, and what she feels comfortable with."

Arya mulled it over, but the thought of telling Gendry made her stomach revolt. She would have to find another option.

***

The next day, Arya rushed into the library, an unruly folder of parchment in her grasp. Robb looked up from his spot at the Stark’s usual table to wave her over. Shuffling awkwardly through the maze of desks and chairs, she sighed as she finally made it to her regular seat. Sansa glanced at her fluttering papers when Arya collapsed into her chair.

“Rough day?” Sansa asked, dipping her quill into the inkwell at the center of the table.

"You could say that," Arya responded, rifling through her papers for her Arithmancy notes. She pulled the correct sheet from the pack and stuffed the rest in her knapsack. Tapping her quill on her head, she stared at her notes. On a clean sheet of paper, she copied down the first homework problem from her textbook with precise, deliberate strokes. Sticking her tongue out her mouth, she painstakingly wrote down every step until she reached a solution.

A high-pitched giggle from across the room broke her concentration. Arya peeked up from her work, glimpsing Gendry and Elinor sitting at a table alone in the corner. Elinor placed her hand on Gendry's forearm, giggling again. Gritting her teeth, Arya narrowed her eyes.

“Did your friend ever figure out her problem?” Sansa asked. Arya loosened her grip on her quill.

“No,” she answered through tight lips as she returns to her homework.

“What’s this about a problem?” Danaerys appeared beside her, swinging her bag onto the table Arya hadn’t even noticed her walking up to the table. Someday she'd have to get stealth lessons from her.

"Arya's . . . friend has got boy troubles," Sansa supplied over Arya's head as Dany pulled out a chair. Dany raised one quizzical brow.

Arya slammed her quill down.

“She just doesn’t know what to do.” She hissed in a low voice.

“Color me intrigued.” Dany leaned in closer, whispering so Bran and the others couldn’t hear. “I need details before I can dispense some advice.”

“She discovered that she’s been in love with her best friend for a long time gone, but he obviously doesn’t love her back because he just got a new girlfriend.” Arya’s gaze darted around the table, avoiding Dany’s enthused stare. “She’s super jealous of the girlfriend, but trying not to be, because the girl’s super nice and wants to be friends. What should she do?”

“Hm, that is a conundrum,” Dany responded, rifling through her notebook.

“I said she should tell him the truth. He deserves to know, even if her feelings are unrequited.” Sansa interjected.

"You would say that," Dany drummed her fingers against the table. "If I were in her shoes, I'd go out with another guy. Either it makes him jealous, or she moves on." Dany winked at Robb across the table. Seriously, why were they always acting so suspicious?

“Huh. That makes sense.” Arya answered, twirling her quill in her fingers as she mulled over Dany’s solution. “Thanks.” She tapped the quill against her chin. "Well, these Arithmancy problems aren't going to do themselves, so I better hop to it. Thanks for the advice."

“No problem.”

Arya attempted to return to the Arithmancy problems at hand. Silence blanketed their table as everyone focused on their own work. They had a Hogsmeade visit coming up. She started on the next question. But who could she bring? Ned Dayne was a definite no after that dreadful date last year. Her quill scratched across the parchment. Edric Storm was kind of cute, but Gendry would know it was about him if she went out with his half-brother. Arya shook her head and glanced over her answers.

She groaned. Crumpling the paper full of incorrect solutions, she tossed it into the wastebasket next to the table.

Arya pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment from her knapsack. Ink dripped from the tip of her quill, collecting in small drops at the edge of her page. Leaning forward, Arya made deliberate strokes as she enumerated every step of each problem.

She sighed as she wrote down the last solution. She cleaned her quill with a quick spell and tucked it back into her bag. She blew the parchment dry before tucking it back into the unorganized folder.

“Well, all that hard work deserves a reward; I’m going to get a snack,” Arya announced as she stretched. “Anybody want anything?”

Rickon started to speak up, but Robb silenced him with a look. Sansa shook her head.

Bran looked up from his copy of A History of Magic. “I’m good, but you might want to go now to get what you want.” Arya rolled her eyes. Bran and his cryptic responses.

"Okay, I'm heading off." Arya stood from her chair, slinging her knapsack across one shoulder. She pushed her chair back in. "Good luck." She saluted the table. Sparing a glance toward Gendry and Elinor's vacated table, she scowled before tiptoeing through the library. The door creaked when she pulled it open. The empty corridor stretched on in both directions. Arya turned left, hustling in anticipation of some delicious pumpkin pasties from the kitchen. The door to the library opened again.

“Arya, wait!” Footsteps pounded against the stone floor behind her.

Arya turned around. Trystane Martell hurried down the corridor, holding the strap of his backpack. He skidded to a stop in front of her. Arya looked him up and down. She’d never really talked to Trystane, despite being in the same year.

"I wanted to ask you if you would want to go to Hogsmeade. Together."

“Oh.” Arya blinked. That was unexpected. “Like a date?”

“Yeah,” Trystane rubbed the back of his neck. “Although it’s still cool if you don’t—”

The buzzing gears in Arya’s head drowned out the rest of his sentence. “—I’m fine either way. I just think you’re pretty cool and—”

“Yes.” Arya brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You will? Oh, cool." Trystane's tan cheeks flushed pink. It was a good look on him. "You're probably busy now, but we can meet up later to plan it?"

"I'd like that," Arya said. Trystane smiled and left down the opposite hallway. Arya waved goodbye. Trystane was nice; maybe he could be the one to make her forget the last two months. Everything would go back to normal—wouldn't it?

[imaginarybird]

Unwilling and unable to face everyone on her own when it comes time to attend Auggie and Ava’s wedding, Riley Matthews hires a solution in Lucas Friar. Loosely based on The Wedding Date.

Part One II Part Two 

Rating: Around a PG 13/14

Notes: Hey everyone, thanks for reading Part One, sending in your comments, liking, reblogging, whatever you did! It really means a lot to me that you enjoyed what I have so far, and I’m looking forward to writing more and sharing with you. 

I’m going to be on vacation from Wednesday through the end of the week, so Part Three may be a little slower in coming. I’ll try to write when/where I can, but I just might not have much of a chance for a few days. 

In this installment, Riley opens up to Lucas a bit, they arrive in Cape Cod, and Lucas meets Auggie.

“So tell me,” Lucas says, pushing his laptop shut and angling towards Riley in the confines of their airline seats, “what sort of lion’s den am I going to be walking into when we get to the Cape?”

Riley closes her magazine and looks at her companion. They’re well into the flight, somewhere over the Midwest and having already spent a fair amount of time chatting and deciding on some more relevant pieces of the story they’re going to tell people they’ve been doing their own thing. She’s been pretending to read while her mind is preoccupied with thoughts of the coming week and he’s been doing something on a laptop that she hasn’t tried to look too closely at, not wanting to be seen as nosy.

For all the ‘getting to know you’ chatting they’ve done so far, the topics have been centered around her; Riley’s not sure if it’s a matter of professionalism or just who Lucas is as a person, but he hasn’t shared much about himself, even something as minor as his favorite color. He insists that if anyone at the wedding asks about him, she can improvise and he’ll go along with it. No matter the reasoning, Riley figures he clearly values his privacy and doesn’t want to violate his trust.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you didn’t lie to your brother about having a date and hire me just for the fun of it.” Lucas clarifies. “The whole thing obviously makes you nervous. But the the thought of going to this wedding alone worries you more. And I want to help you with that, but I have to know what I’m helping with.”

“It’s...complicated.” Riley equivocates, not wanting to delve into the whole sordid tale. She knows there’s little point in keeping it secret--Lucas surely sees her as just another overwrought client that he has to put up with to earn his living--but a part of her wants to spare herself the embarrassment and maybe have him see her as one of the nicer, more enjoyable clients. She can’t even explain why she wants that when she has every intention to never see him again after this week, but she does.

“If it were simple you’d probably be on this flight alone right now.”

Riley almost scowls at Lucas’ gentle but matter-of-fact tone, but limits herself to simply sighing. It’s not his fault that things are the way they are, and he’s just trying to get the information he needs to do his job well. Maybe a few vague bits and pieces wouldn’t hurt. Just so he’ll know what to expect. “Let’s just say, I’m not what my parents were hoping for in a daughter, and they aren’t very good at pretending that I am.”

“Your parents are disappointed that their daughter is a nurse in a pediatric emergency room?”

It should be illegal for a man’s confused expression to be so attractive, Riley thinks.

“Does it also bother them that you brake for animals in the road?” Lucas continues. “And that you participate in the NPR and PBS pledge drives?”

She figures him getting offended on her behalf now is just him getting into ‘character’. There’s no other logical reason for him to be so bothered, even if he does think she’s nice or something like that. He barely knows her, and he’s never met her parents, so how could he possibly be sure enough in her assessment of the situation (and of his assessment of her for that matter) to start defending her? It has to be a part of the job.

“It’s not my work that they don’t like.” She corrects. “It’s that...they don’t know how to relate to me I think? My dad used to, but the older I got the more my interests changed and the less he seemed to want to deal with me. I don’t think it’s because he stopped loving me or anything but I think he couldn’t navigate what having a daughter post-puberty meant. And my mom...my mom is this amazing lawyer. She’s incredibly smart and strong; she’s constantly helping people and changing the world. But I’m not a carbon copy of her and I don’t think she could ever figure out how to connect with me. We shared some traits but our personalities are very different and the older I got the more obvious it was that she didn’t think our differences were a good thing.”

“That had to have been hard, not having a bond with the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally is one of the most painful feelings…”

Riley glances down at her tray table where she'd started folding the corner of her magazine cover back and forth during the conversation--just to give her hands something to do. “It’s not even that. The story of my life is people not liking me for who I am.”

“Even if that’s the case,” Lucas says, laying his hand on top of hers and stilling her fingers, “it’s different when it’s family. When it’s your parents… It can’t be easy.”

It’s the first time they’ve really touched outside of their initial meeting and a couple of moments as they walked through the airport where he guided her with his hand on the small of her back and Riley freezes. How can one hand on top of another--just his five fingers resting on hers and a small brush of his thumb--feel so intimate? Does he even feel that or is this just another rote gesture for him, like using antibacterial gel on her hands every time she enters an exam room is for her?

“You get used to it.” Riley nearly moves her hand away to break the connection (it feels like at any moment the soft warmth could turn and consume her and then she’ll be a goner) but stops herself, reasoning that she has to get comfortable with small gestures like this; this is how couples act and everyone at the wedding has to believe that they’re a couple if this week is going to work. She settles for biting the inner corner of her lip and trying to disconnect herself from the sensation instead.

This is make believe. A business transaction, nothing more. Don’t go falling for someone you can never have, Riley. It’ll only hurt you.

 “Maybe you do but…” Lucas’ thumb sweeps across the back of her hand again, “you shouldn’t have to, and I’m sorry you did.”

Her inner monologue doesn’t work. She can’t look away from his eyes--his deep, green, sorrowful, lovely eyes-- and what starts as a trickling shiver down her spine starts to feel more like a flood of hot tea. They sit, staring for one second, then two, and then Riley realizes he’s waiting for her to say something.

Completely unsure of what to do, Riley pulls her hand back. “T-thanks.” She undoes her seatbelt and stands, bending slightly to avoid hitting her head against the ceiling. “I, um, have to…” She points towards the back of the plane.

Lucas gets that smile on his face again as he rises to let her slide past him.

Riley mentally repeats her mantra a couple more times as she walks down the aisle and barricades herself in the tiny bathroom to give herself a few moments to get her head back on straight.

She is in so much trouble.

Thoughts of inappropriately falling for Lucas are out of Riley’s mind by the time they’re on the ground in Massachusetts and driving from the airport the hour or so it takes to reach Cape Cod. She attributes this to two things: 1) the plane was a confined space, whereas Lucas had suggested that they rent a sporty convertible for the week (‘If this week is about projecting a new image to your family, that car will paint one hell of a picture’) allowing most of the tension to dissipate into the air as it arises and 2) the closer they get to the bed and breakfast where the wedding party and immediate family of the bride and groom will be staying, the further her mind drifts from thoughts of anything other than what’s going to happen over the course of the week and how she’s going to make it through, even with the help of Lucas.

There’s a lot of unpredictability in play. She doesn’t see any of these people very often anymore, hasn’t outside of major holidays (and even those she sometimes skips these days) since the middle of her undergraduate degree; it was easier to move to the west coast for school and never look back.

Riley would love to think that she’ll be able to go through the week invisibly, just popping into the forefront of activity when she’s performing her wedding duties to Auggie and fading into the background the rest of the time, but she figures that her luck isn’t that good; a lot of her good fortune had to have been cashed in for her to have seemingly hit the jackpot on the escort front (she has to think that good-looking, interesting, guys that are not only respectful, but also manage to come off as genuinely caring have to be rare, even in the unfamiliar world of high end male escorts).

“What are you thinking?” Lucas’ question draws her out of her thoughts and back to reality. They’re well into one of the many beach towns on the Cape, she realizes, probably quite close to the B & B, but stuck in a substantial traffic jam, so Lucas is risking next to nothing by taking his eyes off the road to look at her.

“Just worrying about this week.” Riley answers. “Who’s gonna be here, what’s gonna go wrong…”

Traffic inches forward, and Lucas turns his gaze back. “Do you do that often?”

“Do what?” Riley frowns. She’s not doing anything.

“Borrow trouble.” He shrugs, like it’s something obvious. “I know you don’t have a great relationship with your parents but that doesn’t mean something’s gonna go wrong. And when you assume that it will...you’re setting yourself up so that even if things go well, you’ll be so tense that you won’t get to enjoy it.”

“Something will go wrong.” Riley shifts a little in her seat. When that doesn’t ease her discomfort she reaches over to adjust the vent for the air conditioner. “It always does. Someone will say the wrong thing, or take something too far, or be upset because not everyone is happy enough for them and--,” She cuts herself, realizing she hadn’t intended to say the last bit. She shakes her head and starts to correct herself. “Something will go wrong, and inevitably, I’m the one who will be blamed. So I’d rather plan for that and be tense than hope for the best and be disappointed again when nothing changes.”

Lucas doesn’t say anything for a moment, taking the moments when traffic isn’t moving to consider her carefully. When he finally speaks, it’s soft and Riley can’t assess his tone. “You didn’t even scratch the surface with what you told me on the plane, did you?”

“Like I said. It’s complicated.”

They don’t say anything else for the rest of the drive.

“Riley-Ellie!” 

“Auggie-Orrie!” Riley abandons getting her things out of the trunk of the rental car in favor of rushing her younger brother near the bed and breakfast’s porch steps. She throws her arms around him and launches him up in a spin--their longstanding tradition, her worries temporarily forgotten in the face of the reason for the trip. This part of the trip she’s more than happy to deal with. “How does it feel to be an almost-married man?” She asks, lowering Auggie back to the ground. “Is she driving you crazy yet?”

“It’s a-maz-ing.” He grins, every inch the dramatic boy he always has been. “I can’t believe we finally made it to the wedding week. And with none of the nightmares of a typical Matthews Marriage.”

“There’s still time.” He was, of course, referring to the pattern that had started with their parents. Their wedding had nearly been a disaster several times over from meddling relatives, a massive fight between the groom and his best friend, and of course Uncle Eric stealing the venue and reception out from under an unsuspecting diaper tycoon. Then Aunt Morgan’s wedding had ended up with her being left at the alter. After that, Uncle Eric had tried his hand at marriage to have the whole thing wind up under a mandatory evacuation order due to severe weather and flood risk. Uncle Josh’s nuptials hadn’t experienced any of the bad luck of his siblings but he had eloped and Riley knew her grandmother considered being left out of the big day as big of a fiasco as anything her other boys had been through (Morgan being dumped the day of was, of course, in a class all it’s own).

“I figure the curse will end with me.” Auggie says, quite confidently. “I have something that the rest of the family didn’t.”

Riley quirks her eyebrow. “Yeah, what’s that?”

“Ava Morgenstern.”

He has a point. Ava had been strong-willed at age six and had only grown more self-assured as they got older. She had standards for everything that she did, and woe be to the person who stood in the way of her exceeding them. It’s entirely possible, Riley thinks, that if Ava decided she wanted a sunny day for her wedding and a cloud appeared in the sky, that the girl would simply plant herself in place to glare up at the sky and will the cloud into retreating.

“Well, you’ve got me there.” She concedes, smirking and glancing down the wraparound porch. “Where is my future sister-in-law?”

“One of her bridesmaids stumbled at graduation so she is hosting a pre-rehearsal walk-down-the-aisle-in-your heels practice session before she has to get back here for the big family welcome dinner.”

Again, not exactly out of character for Ava. “You mean the high school graduation that happened three years ago?”

“The middle school one, actually. Ava has a long memory.” Auggie says matter-of-factly. “But enough about that.” He taps her shoulder. “How are you? How was your flight? Where is this mysterious boyfriend that you never once mentioned until all of a sudden you were bringing him here?”

Riley knows he’s only really asking the last question; he cares about the other stuff too, but they talk all the time, so the sticking point for him is definitely that she hasn’t ever talked about Lucas before. Auggie will be the hardest sell of the weekend, not only because he knows the most details of her life to poke holes in her story, but because he’s always been suspicious of her suitors and protective of her. She’ll have to be careful to be as normal as possible around him.

“I’m fine, the flight was long, and Lucas is getting our things out of the car.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder towards the parking lot. She can’t help but glancing over her shoulder as she does so. Playing it cool might be the best option to lower any suspicions but she’s never been very good at it. Her nerves always manage to take over.

Auggie follows the gesture and blinks. “The blond guy in the jeans and the smedium t-shirt?”

“Yeah.”

“The one pretending it takes more than thirty seconds to take two bags out of the trunk of a ridiculously beautiful sports car?”

“Uh-huh.”

“The one who looks like he was ripped from the cover of American Apple Pie Boy’s Next Door?”

Not exactly how she would have put it but she can’t exactly deny the resemblance is there. “That’s the one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Auggie!” Riley smacks lightly at her brother’s shoulder.

He dodges, laughing. “I’m sorry, but I watched a lot of guys flirt with you when you were pulling shifts at the bakery and whenever you were into it, it was not with the guys that looked like that.” He waves his hand up and down. “That is not the sort of guy you go for. I know I haven’t seen him without a shirt off or anything but I’m pretty sure his abs have abs.”

Riley’s not sure how she’s supposed to respond. Partially because Auggie is right--she has never dated or even seriously flirted with a guy that’s so blatantly handsome and athletic; Charlie had been her first serious relationship and after him it had taken her a long time to even want to flirt and date again. It had taken even longer to start tackling the resulting self-esteem issues, a problem that, if she’s being honest with herself, she’s still working on. She’s never really been sure that guys who look like Lucas are genuinely interested in her so it’s always been easier to treat them as if they aren’t and stick with other types of guys.

She’s also at a loss because she also has never seen Lucas without his shirt off. Which sounds incredibly stupid, she knows, but the moment Auggie mentions it, Riley realizes that the status of Lucas’ abdominal muscles is almost definitely something that she should be aware of. After all, as far as everyone else is concerned, she and Lucas have been dating for several months.

And for all the planning she and Lucas have done, discussing the details of the nature of their fake relationship like where they met and where he took her on their one month anniversary, they have not really talked about whether or not they’ve taken any kinds of steps as a fake couple where she really would be privy to the what sort of torso he is barely concealing beneath his t-shirts.

“Yeah, he is really...really muscular.” It seems like a safe enough comment; anyone with eyes can tell that the man has muscles, even when he has his shirt on.

“Who’s that?”

Riley nearly jumps out of her skin in the split second it takes for her to realize that the smiling voice near her ear and the arm snaking around her waist belong to Lucas, but when she reaches her conclusion she manages to tamp back her reaction to something that she hopes is a bit more appropriate for being joined by one’s boyfriend. She still stiffens in surprise, but manages to release most of the tension and ease back into the embrace with a nervous giggle. “You.”

Being this close to Lucas, there’s really no question: with or without his shirt, he has a very healthy form. Riley swallows.

“I don’t think I’m that--,”

“You are.” Riley and Auggie cut off Lucas’ protest in unison, then share a grin.

“Well I’m not gonna argue the point too strongly.” Lucas says. He glances between the two siblings. “Did I take enough time getting the bags out of the car for you two to catch up or do you need me to go back?”

“Nope, you’re perfect.” Riley answers and then realizes what she said. She blushes and peers briefly at the ground, even as Lucas threads the fingers of one hand with hers and squeezes gently. She supposes that’s probably meant to be reassuring and a message that they’re doing OK but it’s just another reminder of how bizarre and out-of-character this situation is; she doesn’t do this sort of close contact with people she’s known forever, and yet here she is with a practical stranger. And not hating it. Struggling to figure out what to say and how to act the part, but not hating it. “I was just about to tell Auggie about you. Auggie, this is Lucas. The guy I’ve been seeing.”

Lucas doesn’t let go of her hand, merely uses his other hand to reach over and greet Auggie and offer his congratulations on the wedding. “You know, Riley’s told me so much, it’s great to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.” Auggie nods. “I mean, Riley hasn’t told me very much at all. Nothing actually. But it’s always fun to meet the guys who manage wiggle their way into her life.”

Auggie is supposed to be the easiest part of the week, but at the shrewd look on her little brother’s face, Riley is starting to think that while it may be on a different front from the rest of the family, he might be just as much trouble.

[cajunquandary]

The Road to Heaven is in the Arms of a Winchester

Characters: Reader Insert, Sam, Dean, Castiel

Wordcount: 1500

Warnings: Death, angst

Summary: The reader gets hurt on a hunt. Will she get help in time?

A/N: @trexrambling  requested, “Option A: He knew she was safe, and that was the only thing that mattered. OR Option B: All the words had been said, and now there was only a deep, aching silence.” I hope this does the trick :)

The hunt was never supposed to end this way.

The world around you felt muted—you were barely aware of the light, warm trickle from your nostril, the cold wind coming in from the broken window, your various bruises and lacerations from the fight, or the splintered wood floor upon which you’d fallen to your knees.

You always got back up from being thrown, even when you hit your head so hard you saw stars in your eyes, or momentarily lost the ability to hear. No matter what, you always stood back up and didn’t fall back down.

Not this time.

Everything moved in slow motion, but all too fast at the same time. Shapes were blending, and colors lost their distinction.

And then you were no longer on your knees, but fell onto your left side, which you couldn’t feel at all. When had you laid down? You stared, unblinking, fixed, into the dead eyes of the vampire’s severed head just a few inches away. Good. You may have been thrown by the damn thing, but at least the boys finished him off.

Where were they?

Why couldn’t you turn your head to look for them?

You blinked for the first time in what seemed like an hour, but had truly only been seconds.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Dean called to you from far away, but his hands were around you, pulling you up to his chest. “Sam, what happened? Was she bit? Y/N, talk to me, baby! Look at me, please,” his voice cracked.

Then you were in the back of the impala, Dean still clutching you to his chest. Sam was behind the wheel. I’m fine Dean, but what’s going on? We got the vamp, right? Dean?

After a moment, you realized you couldn’t speak. All that came out were garbled, quiet attempts. “Drive faster, dammit!” Dean was yelling at Sam. What the hell was going on?

Harsh Florescent lights flashed by quickly. 1, 2, 3, 4… Your head pounded, and you squinted against the light. Your vision was extremely narrow, and you quickly realized that you no longer had vision in your right eye. Now this, this was familiar. You were suffering from another migraine. This you could handle. But… where were you? Why were you so tired? Still unable to move to look around, darkness closed in fast.

“She had a brain aneurysm. We were able to take care of the hemorrhaging in surgery—“

“Hey, plain terms doc- was it a stroke? Is she dying?”

“No, Mr. Smith. An artery in her head burst and caused bleeding and swelling. We took care of the bleeding. We don’t yet know the extensiveness of damage caused by the swelling, but when she wakes up, we should have a better idea.”

“And you said that her migraines played a role in this?”

“Well, yes, a migraine can be an indication of an aneurysm. Some people get aneurysms and nothing ever happens. Others… aren’t so lucky. Her motorcycle wreck probably triggered it, especially since she wasn’t wearing a helmet.”

“What are her chances here, doc?”

“Well, she is breathing on her own, and that is a great sign. There seems to be normal brain activity, and when the drugs from surgery wear off, she should wake up. I’d say her chances at a decent recovery, if not full, are on the better side. I am going to hold her in the ICU for three days to see how she does, even if she improves. Also, I am prescribing her an anticoagulant drug to control and prevent post-traumatic seizures after surgery. This will keep her blood slippery so it doesn’t clot again. Her other injuries are minor enough that she shouldn’t bleed from them, but we will watch her closely to make sure.”

You still couldn’t see anything, but the conversation slowly grounded you. A warm hand grasped yours, and breath grazed your ear gently. “Y/N… wake up, sweat heart. Sammy brought you flowers. Later he is going to sneak in some burgers for us. And look—I found your favorite movie.”

You heard Fried Green Tomatoes in the background, the part where Idgie is mourning Buddy Sr.’s death. There was a sniffle and a weight pressed into your shoulder, heavy but warm. Your hand twitched, and the weight lifted. “Hey—hey come on, open your eyes…”

They cracked open barely, and the light coming in from the window stung, making your groan. Your throat was sore and scratchy. The window drew shut, and you opened your eyes a little wider. It took a moment to adjust and remember how to move them, but when they looked onto Dean’s you smiled weakly.

“Hey, Winchester.”

Dean gently held your face, mindful of your wrapped incision and kissed you, a single tear rolling down his puffy face.

“No chick flick moments,” you teased.

He bowed his head and laughed, “Don’t quote me to me.”

Sam knocked on the door. “Hey, she awake?”

“Yes and she is doing just fine, thank you.” You retorted.

Dean left, begrudgingly complying with the one visitor at a time rule.

Sam did his best to hug you. “So, that vamp threw you pretty hard. Why didn’t you tell us how bad the migraines were getting? You almost died. Dean was beside himself, security had to place him in holding until we could visit you,” Sam whispered.

“Well, that last doc I went to said I was fine, to take some Advil. Guess he was wrong.”

“No kidding.”

“They seriously had to put him in holding? Please tell me you have a video of this.” You tried to laugh, but it sent searing pain to your head. You gasped, feeling extremely worn out already.

“Unfortunately, no. but maybe we can hack into their system later and see if they caught it on camera. Hey… you should rest. We’ll be here.” Sam smiled sympathetically, squeezed your hand, and left.

Shortly after, the doctor came in and explained everything to you. The next few days were a blur of fading in and out of sleep, Dean trying to sneak in pie and getting scolded by the nurses, Sam talking about his time at Stanford with the doctor, whose son was headed there in the fall for law as well, and lots of tests to see how you were progressing. It seemed like Dean was always doing something to make the nurses mad, like messing with the monitors, making balloons out of the gloves, and other nonsense. It was a good thing that the ladies seemed to have a sweet spot for him, as he only ever got away with a scolding when it could’ve gotten him banned from the hospital.

Before you knew it, Dean was carrying you back into the bunker and placing you in his bed. He held you firmly in his arms and you relished in the scent of home—leather, whiskey, laundry detergent, and old books. In the warmth, you swiftly drifted back to sleep, more comfortable than you’d been in a long time, despite your injuries, excited to see Cas in the morning to come.

You woke shortly, sitting up and stretching deliciously. Nothing hurt anymore. Castiel must’ve come in your slumber and fixed what he could. There was a shuffle at the doorway and you turned, grinning, to see the angel.

Castiel appeared more ragged than usual and stank of whiskey. “Uh, Cas, are you okay?”

Tears gathered in stormy blue eyes and he stumbled forth to embrace you, a single racking sob emanating from the holy being. “Cas, what’s wrong? Your feathers are tickling my nose.” You sniffled and pulled back slightly as the angel moved to kneel, holding your hand with his head laid against it.

“I tried to get there as fast as I could. I’m so sorry, Y/N…”

“What do you mean?” Unease tingled over your spine.

“You never made it out of that hospital. Your condition… lead to complications.”

“That’s not true. I was at the bunker, I made it.”

“Everyone has a road that takes them to heaven. Yours happened to be in the arms of a Winchester.”

The Winchesters stood by as somber flames engulfed your body on the pyre. All the words had been said, and now there was only deep, aching silence between the men. Castiel walked forward slowly, laying shaking hands on both of the brothers and pressing his weight into the gesture. The boys turned, expectant of his findings. Castiel merely nodded, eyes cast down, unable to shoulder the guilt he felt for not preventing this. The hunters turned back, embers glowing red-orange, fire dying with the daylight. They knew she was safe in heaven, and that’s the only thing that mattered.

Taglist:

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @akshi8278 @deathtonormalcy56

Angst Tags:

@trexrambling @abbessolute @emptywithout

[cddump]

Untitled (Sunday pt2. [2582 words])

Consider this a warm up. I wanted to get my feet wet before focusing on more pressing things, like my stories I’ve left unattended. The ending to this is pretty weak but that’s okay, I guess. Also, though unintentional at first, this is a sequel to Sunday. It kinda just fit together nicely, I guess. I like Lisa as a character and feel as though I could work on and develop her well into my cast. I have one more piece I want to finish before I actually get to work on real stuff, but I should be able to finish it up tomorrow/today. I also forgot to add the "read more" thing to make this less of a long post and now that I'm on mobile I can't change it. Forgive me! I'll fix it in the morning!

I felt my legs give way under me as I splashed across the concrete rooftop, causing me to slide over puddles until I crashed into the enclosed brick wall leading to a staircase. Dimly, I recollected the fact that I wasn’t supposed to be here on my own, especially in the rain. Donny had told me so himself. He said a rookie should always have someone with them to make sure their techniques are properly executed. The rain added its own problems as well: lack of traction, as I just found out. I rolled onto my back with a groan; I was going to need a minute to recover from that trip. The soft rain trickled onto my face. It bothered me just enough to turn my head away and face a towering streetlight. The light’s glow reflected the sky’s tears in the early morning gloom, and each drop of rain stood out to me as I watched. The tiny water drops appeared to fall diagonally against the luminescent orb. I brought my hand towards the cold rooftop, damp from the rain thanks to the shelter the wall I was against provided. How long have I been doing this? A few weeks? That was when I was running late and hopped a few fences. Apparently I had passed by a group of people that were really into parkour.

They followed my run to the bus stop and told me I looked like I knew what I was doing. Of course I didn’t, but they thought I did. They asked me to join their group and learn how to do real free running stuff. I was late so I just agreed on the spot. Since then I’ve been learning how to navigate the city on foot, though I’m way too inexperienced to do anything crazy. Like hop rooftops alone in the rain, I mused. I tore my gaze away from the glowing streetlight and focused on the clouds above me again, bringing my arm away from the roof and over my brows. What would mom say? I inhaled deeply. For a while now I’ve had dreams about her. Or more like memories from when I was a child. How she would always hold me back, gripping my shoulder tightly and refused to let me play with the other kids. A girl like you shouldn’t be getting all dirty and worked up like that out there, Elizabeth. That’s what she always told me.

I exhaled and rose to my feet, using the wall for support. My side was a bit sore but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. I felt the back of my head to make sure my pony tail was still in place before looking around. There were a few places I could head to from here. All of the adjacent rooftops were only a few feet apart and easily within jumping distance. The one in front of my reached a street ahead but I could turn left or right and keep my momentum up for another roof hop to the side buildings. Or I could call it quits for the morning and head home. The enclosed staircase was right here, after all. I brushed the thought away and reviewed the jump I was about to make. It looked to be about four feet across or so. These apartments where very closely compacted which made it easy pickings. The only problem was the rain. I’d have to make sure my footing was weighed down and constant to avoid another spill, especially since there would be a nasty drop if I slipped before my actual launch. I took another breath and jogged forward, gaining speed until I reached a full sprint. My footsteps splashed below me, reminding me to keep as much friction as possible. I did my best but then it happened; I miscalculated a skip over a puddle that forced me to lose my balance. I was already mere feet away from the ledge and would be unable to halt my forward momentum, but I was fumbling and the gap was quickly approaching. It all happened too quickly for me to make any real decision and my left foot hit the final piece of concrete before I realized it. My right foot would have nothing to land on. In a desperate claw for salvation I kicked off the very tip of the ledge of the roof, the corner between rooftop and wall and prayed it would be enough to ferry me across the river of air. My eyes looked downwards without command. A small dark alleyway with a metal trashcan was below me. The lid was open, as if it was welcoming me as its new coffin. I shut my eyes tightly, unsure of my fate. Pain raced through my right leg as it connected with flat concrete. I didn’t expect to make it. As a result, I ended up tripping forward, falling face first onto the roof. My troubles didn’t end there as I tumbled forward and rolled onto my back. I felt as though I was inside a drier: wet, cold, and rolling forward with every second that passed. It didn’t take too long for my body to finally stop rolling, but that was only because I ran out of roof. I felt a pit in my stomach as the sound of rushing air passed my ears. The red brick wall of the apartment was above me, stretching upwards as I realized I was falling. There was a thunderous metallic noise that roared through my entire body as pain flooded through me. How strange, I thought as darkness clouded my vision, an apartment without windows.

“Where did she even come from?!”

“I don’t know! I was just sitting on the couch when she landed there!”

“What do we do now?!”

I ached. It was all I could do to keep myself from falling unconscious again.

“’m sorry,” I muttered.

“She’s waking up,” I heard a man’s voice said.

“I’m sorry, mom,” I went on, “…know you told me not to…go.”

“What’s she saying?” A high pitched woman asked.

“…But I had to. Couldn’t…sit at home…bored…”

“She’s still out of it,” another woman said. I could feel her warmth over me.

“Sorry mom,” I told her, bringing a painful arm over her shoulder for what I thought was a hug.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” the man said. I groaned out as I slowly got a grip on myself and forced my eyes open. Beautiful purple pupils stared down at me against a brown face and white background. I really had died, then.

“Are you an angel?” I asked.

“No, that’s just my sister.” The male said. I peered sideways and saw the man in question. He stood next to a pale freckled girl with messy hair and a worried expression. The tan man had a grey beanie on that covered his hair. He had a brightly lit phone out but dimmed it with a tap of a button before pocketing it. “Ambulance is on its way,” he announced.

“Ambulance?”

“Do you remember your name?” The first girl asked. I glanced at her. Her purple eyes still caught me off guard, but now I could see the resemblance between her and the man from before.

“Lisa,” I told them, “Short for Elizabeth.”

“E-liz-a-beth,” The freckled girl whispered oddly. “Lisa?” “I like it better than ‘Liz’ or 'Izzy,'” I told her as I tried to sit up, though the first girl held me down.

“Stay still, stay still. You’re hurt.” I brought my hand up and touched my arm. It caused a sharp pain to race through me. Then I felt my torso and felt the same sharp pain. Finally, I touched my thigh and felt the exact same sharp pain as before. I was worried until I realized it wasn’t my body parts that hurt, it was my hand that was broken. Stupid Lisa, stupid stupid. Despite the girl’s protests, I forced myself to sit up.

“I’m okay.” My voice was hoarse and I visibly shook. “I’m just…rattled, I think. I also think I landed on my hand or something.” I realized I had been placed on a sofa in the middle of a living room. I was inside an apartment. A tabby cat jumped on the sofa next to me, catching me by surprise.

“Chopin, no! Down!” The purple eyed girl said, moving to grab the cat. I petted the animal easily with my uninjured hand, and the young woman stopped her movements. On the coffee table I saw a reddened white towel. It took me a moment to realize it was red with blood and another moment to realize it was,in fact, my blood. I felt under my chin with my arm, careful not to hurt my hand any further than it already had been. I had landed harshly on the roof, and it showed. My face had been scrapped up a bit, but I doubt it’d be anything serious. I looked at my arm and saw a bit of blood that had rubbed off on it. “Oh,” I said stupidly. The girl in front of me grabbed the towel and dried my arm up before gently nursing my chin, obscuring my vision. “My name’s Crystal. That’s Zoey and Casper. Do you remember what happened?”

“I…was doing parkour.” I felt my face blush. What a stupid thing to tell others. I felt like a child. Just a kid that fell out of a tree.

“In this rain?” Casper asked. “You got a death wish or something?” “Casper, don’t be rude,” Crystal scolded.

“Yeah, Casp!” Zoey joined in, “I think it’s awesome! You’re like a super hero, dashing through rooftops!”

“I…I guess.” 'Awesome,’ huh? I never really thought about it. In fact I had been swept through the entire ordeal without questioning what it was I was really doing. It only now dawned on me that I had just been launching myself through the air in between rooftops. Maybe I should have taken it all more seriously. I nearly died today. I didn’t want to think about that.

“How long have you been doing this?” Casper asked. Crystal backed away from me and walked into a different room.

“I don’t know…Two? Maybe three weeks?”

“Weeks?!” “I’m not supposed to be doing it alone yet,” I admitted, “especially not in this weather.” Crystal came back with a fresh white towel.

“You want anything to drink?” She asked me. “Water?” “That…y-yeah. Water. Thank you.” I saw her reach under a counter next to the refrigerator and produced a clear plastic bottle. She handed it to me before taking a seat on the table. “Thank you,” I repeated as I took hold of it. I was about to unscrew the top when I stopped. “Ah. I-I uh. Can’t open it. It’s just…my hand.” I lifted my damaged and shaking hand for the group to see. It still hadn’t sunken in that my hand might actually be broken. It only hurt when it came into contact with something and I forced myself to push the thought of it away.

“Oh sorry!” Despite Crystal standing up, it was Zoey who reached out and undid the cap for me.

“Thanks. Again.” I drank deeply from the bottle and was surprised when I pulled it away; I had drained it completely as the sounds of echoing sirens in the distance caught my attention.

“Pretty quick,” Casper commented.

“It’s an early Sunday morning. Not much traffic right now,” Zoey told him, to which he only nodded. The ambulance drew nearer until it was outside the apartment complex. Crystal stood in front of me as her brother approached me from the side.

“How are you feeling?” She asked. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can manage that. I think I’m fine, like I said I’m just shaken up.” I brought myself to my feet with some effort as footsteps approached the door. They were quickly followed by four heavy knocks.

“Anyone in there?” A woman’s voice rang out.

“Yeah, coming!” Crystal answered before motioning to Zoey to answer the door with a nod of her head. She did so quickly, and let in two women wearing blue jackets. I just barely made out a red cross on one of their shoulders.

“We got a call about a woman?” One of them asked.

“H-Hi,” I waved. “I…might have fallen off the roof.”

“And on to our balcony,” Crystal added. The EMTs rushed over with practiced precision and looked me over.

“I-I-I feel fine, just my hand. I think it’s broken.” Both Crystal and Casper had backed away next to Zoey in order to give the professionals space. I felt the redheaded woman lightly grab my hand.

“Feel any pain?”

“A little.” She lightly squeezed each of my fingers individually and asked me again if I felt pain in them. I shook my head each time. She then squeezed my palm, forcing me to pull my body away from her.

“Ah, I got it.”

“What are you thinking?” Her partner asked

“Slight dislocation. Do you mind if I fix it here, miss?” I nodded hesitantly. “It will hurt a bit.” I paused but nodded again. It was going to hurt no matter wha–

“SSSSOWWwww!” I cried as the EMT applied pressure directly on my hand, causing a cracking pain to flush through it. “Ow ow ow ow!” I yanked my hand away and cradled it with my other one. Though it had hurt, I was surprised to find the pain subsiding. “Ow…oh?” As my hand felt better, the EMTs took me downstairs into their ambulance, with my three new acquaintances following behind. The EMTs looked me over quickly and determined that I didn’t need to head to the hospital, as there was no other lasting pain.

“We can still take you there if you’d like,” the redhead told me. I shook my head and told her I felt decent, besides some light back pain from the landing and body aching from skidding around the roofs. She nodded once as her partner entered the driver’s side of the ambulance. “If you feel any new pains don’t hesitate to check yourself in or to call 911, got it? Especially around your torso area. We didn’t feel anything out of place but it’s still possible for your ribs to be bruised or damaged. For now just get some rest and clean up your wounds.” I nodded again as she entered the ambulance. I turned around as they began to drive away. Though the rain had let up, it was starting to fall once again.

“I guess I’m okay,” I told the trio.

“You going home?” Casper asked. “We were gonna set up breakfast and wouldn’t mind having you around. You know, make sure you’re okay and stuff?” I looked at the two girls. Their smiles were genuine and inviting, but they were also letting me know it was okay to say 'no.’ I looked away with a smile. I wasn’t used to having others watch over me like this. It was an odd feeling, but one I didn’t mind.

“…Sure,” I walked towards them with a broad smile.

I like the idea of Crystal having a nice cup of coffee with her cat when all of a sudden a person just slams into their balcony lol. I also have noticed I have more female characters than male ones. At first I thought it was a problem but then I realized it’s the kind of problem we need these days.