#me in part II: oh brown eyed young him is pretty too

[muscle-gay-ghost]

I'm still upset that Solomon Goode and Sheriff Goode with the pretty eyes and pretty hair and pretty face and pretty everything had turned out to be the actual witch of the story.

[witch-of-letters]

Our Work Is Never Done, Part II (Ezio Auditore x Reader)

Word Count: 5926 (It’s official: I can’t write short fics. My mind is filled with complex ideas and the simpler ones never see the light XD)

Author’s Note #1: So the story took a darker turn here (my mind is seriously obsessed with such themes, don’t blame me *hides behind the couch*), but I’ve finished it as best as I could, given that the inspiration for writing comes spontaneously. This part includes such themes as torture and sadism, which are discussed but not explicitly described (or maybe there’s like one such sentence, idk).

But please, do enjoy reading this chapter! I love writing for you all, mi amici!

Author’s Note #2: This work is purely fictional and is not meant to offend anyone. I do try to check my grammar and words (I use Grammarly and Google for those), but English is still not my first language, so I apologize in advance if you find any mistakes within the fic.

Italics - thoughts/emphasis/Italian

Bold Italics - places/Spanish

Feedback/constructive criticism/comments are much appreciated, as are reblogs!

Chapter I

(P.S. I know it’s Masyaf, but pretend it’s that fortress that will be mentioned in this story.)

  Somewhere in the Apennine mountains…

“Ha! I can’t believe we’ve caught them so easily! They call themselves ‘Master Assassins’?! Bah!” boasted one of the men. The other one with an eye-patch nodded his head in agreement.

“Indeed we have, amicomio! Let’s just hope that they won’t wake up earlier than planned…,“ he glanced at yours and Ezio’s bodies in the cart, one thrown across the other. The mercenaries didn’t care how you two were to be delivered. Both of you were alive and that was enough.

“Yes, let’s. I do have to admit though, this was quite a suicidal task for us, but it seems that Lady Luck kept us safe! I can already smell our reward!”

The other guy, Pietro, sent a scowl his way, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Edric! We’re not there yet. Anything can happen on the road - bandits, thieves, templars that don’t know us, you name it.” It did not wipe the smile off of Edric’s face, however.

“Be more optimistic!”

“Meh,” was his response to his overly-enthusiastic partner, but then he continued, "Oh, and pray tell, why did Rodrigo decide to partner you up with me, hmm?! With such a brain of a cow, you’ll get nowhere in your life!”

“With an attitude like that, Lady Luck will no longer smile upon you!”

Pietro could feel the anger boiling inside of him. Who did that insolent bastard think he was?! A genius?! He could only picture how they’d face Rodrigo Borgia together. He would certainly introduce his boot to their asses if his brainless partner continued to babble like an over-excited five-year-old…

“Al diavolo with your Lady Luck! If you don’t shut up this instant, I won’t hesitate to throw you to the wolves down the road!” Pietro shouted in anger. Edric clamped his mouth shut in shock, averting his eyes from his companion to your unconscious bodies.

“Grazie a Dío for the silence!”

Their journey would be a long one indeed…

*****

“Ho there, Manfredo! Did you hear the news?!” a guard, no younger than 25 years, shouted to his friend, who was standing outside on the walls of Castello D'Agnano, a fortress in the middle of the mountains that was well-fortified and comparable to none.

He received a sarcastic snort in response, “What news? That Rodrigo Borgia’s big stomach has always been a fake one?! Ahahahahaha!,” he burst out laughing, making the other guard frown. Then his laughter stopped abruptly, “Don’t make me laugh, porcellino.”

“For one, stop calling me a ‘piggy’. My nose ain’t that flat and my nostrils ain’t that big! For two, no, you knucklehead! The news is not about the Grandmaster!”

“Then what about?”

Emril leans close conspiratorially, “It’s about Ezio Auditore and Y/L Y/L/N! They’ve finally been caught! Can you believe it?!”

“Huh? I certainly did not expect that, but it’s a good thing, I guess.”

“I thought you’d be more excited than that!” Emril huffed exasperatedly, clearly disappointed by his comrade’s response. To be so dismissive of the two notorious Master Assassins’ capture was…cold and appalling if one asked him. He wasn’t against the Assassins per se, finding them very skilled and intelligent, but boy, was he excited to hear that they would be held where he was stationed. If only he could get an audience with th-“

"Stand straight!” a stern and commanding voice was heard from behind them, the footsteps of its owner coming closer and closer. It was the Captain of the Guard, Ignacio Lavola, the cruellest and most sadistic bastardo Emril has ever seen. He hadn’t seen it for himself, but those that have, have told him of his torturing ways - how he preferred to flay the prisoners alive while interrogating them or use some of the outdated torture devices to prolong their pain and agony. He shuddered at the thought of seeing people, both men and women, suffer at his hands. If he ever got to children…no, he couldn’t continue that track of thought.

He had to try and keep his composure, but Ignacio’s presence alone made him stutter uncontrollably, “Y-yes s-sir!”

Ignacio eyed him like a hawk, his facial expression giving nothing away. Emril could not stare back at him, lest he peed in his own breeches out of sheer fear. Luckily, his stutter was ignored. ’Bastardo ’ he thought to himself.

“I expect you to keep a close eye on our newest prisoners. If you treat them like 'royalty’, talk more than a word to them, or let them out of your sight, expect… severe punishment,” Ignacio continued, emphasizing his last two words with a cold but intimidating stare. His brown eyes held a clear threat in them, and knowing the man, or of his reputation at least, Emril knew that he would go through with what he just told them. As much as he was excited to meet the notorious pair of assassini, he had to swallow that excitement and distance himself mentally as much as possible. He didn’t want to die. Not just yet.

“Ehi, you alright, amico mio? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost! Which was more like seeing Satan himself, but still…,” the worried voice of Manfredo interrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to the reality. Manfredo saw his friend losing that spark in his eye he had just a few moments prior, making him worry like a big brother would. 'Piggy’ or not, this was his comrade - his friend - and he’d be damned if he didn’t help him with whatever was on his mind.

Emril eyed the retreating form of Ignacio, boring daggers into him. Oh, how he wished that figlio di puttana to die the most painful of deaths…but alas, he knew that he would never be able to do so as he was too much of a coward, or that’s what he thought. There was no point in thinking about such dark things though, so he forcefully tried to shake off his thoughts.

Turning back to Manfredo, he spoke…or more like whispered his next words, “Sto bene.”

His friend wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

“No. No, you’re not,” he paused to look around them. When he didn’t see anyone, he continued, “Is this about the Captain?”

When Emril didn’t answer immediately, he sighed. While he didn’t have a problem with the Captain personally, he too knew of his supposed reputation, and he did not want to be in his line of sight when trouble happened. Ignacio Lavola was not a merciful man.

“Look, I don’t like him either, but we can’t do anything on our own! Trying anything will only get us killed!”

“But we don’t actually know that!” Emril retorted.

“And what would you have us do then, huh?! Coddle up to him and then stab him in the back like Brutus did Caesar?! We already have to lick his boots and you see where we are?! We’re still lowly guardsmen! It’s good enough that we’re both stationed here, on the walls! Why make it worse?!”

“Then what about those Master Assassins? They’re already being brought here! Knowing their skills and reputation, perhaps they can get us out of here!”

“And where exactly would they take us?”

“O-out of here! Somewhere! Anywhere! Anywhere better than this place!”

“Yeah…right.”

Emril huffed in frustration, “Stop being so sceptical for a change, va bene?! I’ve seen what they can do! They have it in them to escape this place! We only have to give them the opportunity…”

“And get ourselves killed in the process?! No. Fucking. Way.”

“Do you trust me?” Emril took Manfredo’s face in his young hands, making the man just a tiny bit uncomfortable.

Manfredo nodded.

“Then trust me when I tell you that we can do this! We play it smart, we get farther than anyone else ever has in here. Now, I’ll ask again - are you with me?”

Hesitating for just a moment, his friend agreed, “I am, amico. I am.”

“Then listen closely. First, we’ll have to see who guards the cells, and then…”

*****

Ignacio was back to pacing in his office. After seeing to it that all the guards were aware of the arrival of his future 'guests’, he went back inside to make some additional preparations. Namely, sharpening his various hooks and blades. After all, they would need to receive a 'warm and royal’ welcome befitting their station.

Capturing them was his idea and his alone. If Rodrigo got wind of that, he would be ecstatic, or so he thought. Technically, he wasn’t going against the Templars’ principles or disobeying his higher-ups’ orders. He was just doing what he thought was right - what would benefit them all.

Looking at the map of Europe on the wall, he thought of Antonio. He knew that the man was a weak link in their Order, preferring to ignore his numerous duties throughout the years (which had to be completed if one wanted to move higher up the ladder…and avoid getting executed). He met him only once, on a grand masquerade ball in France, securing yet another marriage between one of his cousins and some fool of a noble, who immediately fell for the pretty eyes and a big bust.

He remembered their last conversation quite clearly.

  Lyon, France, 1470

“My, what a pleasant surprise to see you here, mon amie!”  Antonio threw his arms around one of the nobles, who judging by their cheerful expression, was very much happy to see him.

  “Indeed, we haven’t seen each other for two years! Can you believe it?!” the nobleman paused, “Oh, it’s been just horrible without seeing you here!”

  Was that a blush creeping up Antonio’s cheeks? No, it must have been the heat of that place getting to him.

  “Well, I was very very busy. Making deals, investing, and-”

  “-partying, hmm?” the nobleman teased playfully.

  “Uh, well…yes. That’s not why I’m here though.”

  “Oh, I’m all ears.”

  “Forgive me for being blunt, but I’m here to find my cousin a suitable husband.”

  The nobleman raised his eyebrows, “Who?”

  Antonio gave him a meaningful look, making his friend raise his eyebrows into his hairline even further.

  “Oh. Oh! Now I get it! Pardon me, my friend, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so forward!”

  “One has to be a little forward to get on this life. Trust me, I’ve been mulling over this very conversation all week before arriving here.”

  “Hah, well…I don’t know about that. How does your cousin look like? What is her name?”  

  “Violetta, and she is standing right over there!” said Antonio while pointing to a woman in a yellow-green dress chatting with the other women.

  “She does look beautiful, but before you make me choose, please consider making another man her husband. I have a close friend here this evening and I’d very much like you to meet him.” He waved for Ignacio to approach them. He sure hoped that he wouldn’t be forced to endure another boring conversation about women, wine, and politics. He was far above those things.

“There you are, amie!  Antonio, this is my friend, Ignacio. Ignacio Lavola,” the nobleman gestured to the man beside them. A dark look passed Antonio’s eyes. That man…he knew him. He knew him through his reputation as a sinister sadist alone. A lot of templars trembled at the mere mention of his name… the Butcher of Souls.

  “A pleasure to meet you!” he forced the words out of his mouth. “Any friend of Christophe’s is a friend of mine!”

  “And mine as well…”

  They were ready to shake hands, and when they did, Ignacio squeezed Antonio’s hand just a little harder than necessary. The man recognized him. If he played his cards wrong, he’d be another one of his victims, he just knew that.

  Ignacio let a cold look pass over his present company, seemingly unbothered by the tense atmosphere between him and the lesser templar, “So, why I am here, Christophe?” Always blunt to the point.

  “Ah, but weren’t you standing there all bored just moments ago? Armaund’s new political ideas were clearly failing to keep you interested. You looked like you would fall asleep at any moment! I decided to save you from that.”

  “And for that, you have my sincerest thanks. I sense that there’s more to it though.”

  “And you are right about that! The thing is, Antonio is looking for a good husband to his cousin, Violetta. I told him to speak with you before deciding. After all, you’re not married too!” 'But clearly not a good man,’ Antonio thought to himself.

  Ignacio was undeterred by his 'friend’s’ request. He wasn’t looking for marriage. He wasn’t looking for love at all, but the least he could do was amuse him. And make Antonio squirm a little in the process.

“Ah, yes. Violetta. That woman in yellow, oui?”

  Christophe answered before Antonio could speak another word, “Right you are! She is very beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “She is. Though I…fail to understand what makes her so special. Besides being Antonio’s cousin, that is.”

“Care to elaborate on that, amie?”   Christophe looked over at pale-faced Antonio, not noticing how rigidly the man was standing. He was a good man, but oblivious to many things (such as Violetta’s jealous personality Antonio 'forgot’ to mention).

“I-I…,” the breath was stuck in Antonio’s throat. Why did he lose his confidence all of a sudden? Why couldn’t he utter a single word out of his mouth? Was it because of Ignacio? Was his presence that scary to him? The thoughts were rushing in his head like the busy cardinals when choosing a new Pope, and his heart was beating a hummingbird flaps its wings. All that insecurity about being a 'bad’ templar came forth as though something popped open a cork on that 'closed jar’ (or someone more like). And it was eating him alive.

  “Is something wrong?” Ignacio asked him, still as stone-faced as before.

  Antonio tried to muster up his courage again, praying that his voice wouldn’t betray his nervousness. He could also feel his eye wanting to twitch, so he blinked a couple of times to keep it under control.

Taking a deep breath he spoke, “No, I suppose nothing is wrong with you wanting to know about her. She is not as special as the queen of  Spagna  perhaps, but her impeccable skills with musical instruments and a talent for sewing make up for it, signori.”

  “And what else?”

  “Well…she does have a bit of a mean streak, but it doesn’t necessarily make her a nasty person…”

  “Hmm, you are honest, at the very least. Though I would not take such a woman for myself, she would still suit you all the same, Ignacio. You share a trait, however bad one, but that should bring you closer to each other, no?”

  “Yes-”

  “Now, let me go and announce the opening of the Grand Ball! The ladies are itching to dance!” declared Christophe and then left the pair in a hurry, seemingly excited to officially start the event. Antonio and Ignacio were finally alone (despite being surrounded by the crowd of people).

  “So what is a pathetic little worm like you doing in this place? Cementing another useless alliance, hm?”

Antonio bristled at his tone, his nostrils flaring, but he tried to reign in his anger so as not to cause a scandal, “You think you are smart,  ehi?!  My scheming with marriages may not bring much to our cause, but having hands in important people’s pockets brings something to mine.”

  Ignacio smirked in amusement, “And what might that cause be, exactly?”

“I…,” Antonio couldn’t find the right words, instead he huffed like a petulant child, “You know what?! Fottiti te e il tuoculo compiaciuto! (Fuck you and your smug ass!)”

  The man before Antonio chuckled lowly, taking his insult in stride. To anyone else, he looked like he was about to faint from the stifling heat, being all red in the face, but Ignacio knew that he was actually silently fuming at him, looking like he’d burst at any moment. Oh, how he enjoyed seeing them all get angry like that because of him. It made him feel the power he had over them - that he could manipulate their emotions just as easily as he could peel the skin off of his victims with a sharpened blade. They were like putty in his hands.

He placed his heavy hand on the templar’s shoulder, keeping him in place. Leaning in, he whispered in Antonio’s ear, “If you think the Grand Master won’t hear about you being lazy and far too selfish for your own good, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, amico. If nothing else, your tiny ass will still be served on a silver platter to me, one way or another.” With that, Ignacio left Antonio alone, but the man was once again trembling in his boots, his heart imbued with the fear of him, and the desperation to leave that place as soon as possible. Antonio would not stop fearing him until his own death.

Even after so many years, he still thought that the conversation between him and the tiny templar could not have gone any better. Before sending the hired mercenaries to capture the assassins, he mentioned (rather offhandedly) that he would pay them more if they took care of him as well. For once, he didn’t care enough to kill the man himself, letting someone else do the honours (frankly, the years have taken its toll on him and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to play the game of 'cat and mouse’). Thankfully, no one would miss Antonio - not even his numerous cousins.

Sitting back in his leather chair, he proceeded with polishing his knives, wanting the assassins to see their own reflections in it. He would have a good time carving them up…

  Two days later…

Your head felt so heavy that you thought it was filled with lead. Not only that, but the pain could not be more unbearable than what you were currently experiencing. Like someone had a knife stuck in your skull. Your temples were throbbing, your ears were ringing, and your mouth was as dry as a desert. All in all, you felt miserable.

Next to you, Ezio was sitting up against the wall, looking at anything but you. When you made a hissing sound, however, you knew you had his attention.

He didn’t spring up when he heard it (since he was still very tired after such a long ride), but his eyes were filled with concern for you. He spoke to you as quietly and as gently as possible, “Y/N! How do you feel?!”

You couldn’t look him in the eye due to the pain you were in, but you still answered, just as quietly, “Miserable. Tan miserable. You sure there’s no knife or an axe stuck in my head?”

He looked very confused at your question, not recognizing the joke, “What axe?! What are you talking about?!”

“Ah, just forget it. It was a poor attempt at a joke anyway,” you moaned in pain, putting your head between your legs. That action did not relieve it, however.

“We need to get out of here, wherever 'here’ is!”

You looked around yourself with tired eyes, seeing how dirty and damp the cell was. A rat hole near Ezio. And was that a big spider in one corner on the ceiling? The place was truly awful but despite the aforementioned conditions, you thankfully had enough space to move around if need be. Being cramped up in a tiny space (even if it was with Ezio), did not sound like a good idea, or rather like a comfortable one.

Your current wish was to get rid of the headache. Whoever dropped something heavy on your head should better be running away from there or else you’d stick one of your hidden-blades in theirs.

Ezio didn’t look any better. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes were tired but angry, and both of you were stripped off of your assassin robes and weapons. What a  great situation that was!

Sitting up a little, you inquired, “Do you know…who dropped us in here? I could have sworn I heard male voices talking at some point, or was it just a dream?”

Ezio nodded, “Si. I didn’t see their faces but I saw their clothes. They were mercenari.”

“Ugh! Wish we knew who hired them to do this! It’s like they were actually waiting for us in Basilica!”

“Templars.”

“W-what?!”

“It was the Templars. Turn around and you’ll see the banners with a red cross on them.”

Indeed, when you peeked over your shoulder through the iron bars, you saw what Ezio was talking about. The white banners with the infamous red cross. The true mark of any Templar stronghold.

“So we’ve gotten ourselves into one of the worst situations that could ever happen? ¡Mierda!” you swore under your breath. How could they have captured you both so easily? How could you not see the mercenaries? You thought back to it, trying to make sense of all the things that had occurred within the church.

For one, when you asked the girl to hand you some clothes, you saw a sorrowful look pass over her face, but it was a momentary one so you did not pay it any more attention. For two, the servants’ quarters were completely empty as though everyone was suddenly forced to leave. And last, when the mass had gone for some time and you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer, you spotted not one soul roaming the halls. The moment you went through all these memories, it finally clicked.

“Ezio, they knew we were coming. It was an ambush.”

He looked up at you, waiting for an explanation.

“Did you see the girl’s face when she looked at me? It displayed her sorrow over something, as though she was apologizing for something we didn’t know.”

“No. No, I didn’t. What about it?”

You continued, “She lead us through the servants’ quarters, but did you see how empty they were? Like everyone completely vanished? The mercenaries were already there, so by forcing them to leave, they ensured to no one would call for help…or see what they were planning to do. And then there were no priests in the halls because most of them were templars themselves, so they most likely decided not to interfere.”

“Most of the priests?”

“Ezio, it’s been a long known fact that templars take the positions of power, whether small or big, to ensure that no one would be suspicious of them. They smile in public but sneer behind the closed doors. And think about it, who would believe that a mere priest would order the deaths of people behind their backs?”

He should not have asked such a stupid and irrelevant question, but the worry for you both clouded his mind. He wanted to get you and himself out of that place and find your way back to Monteriggioni. He only hoped that Claudia wouldn’t throw a fit at hearing about your capture.

Before he could say another word, he heard numerous pairs of footsteps approaching. You perked up at the sound as well, lifting your head and straightening your posture. Ezio scooted over to you, and you gladly took his hand in yours - both for comfort and reassurance. Whoever approached you, you would face them together.

Unfortunately, it was a group of well-armed guards who judging by their faces, did not want to deal with any potential acts of defiance. The one without a helmet stepped closer to the metal door.

“Our Captain has requested your presence,” he pointed his gloved finger at you.

“Me? Why?” you asked, but then caught yourself and tried to ask something else, “Wait! Before you answer my previous questions, tell me what’s his name first!”

“Maestro Ignacio Lavola…commonly known as The Butcher of Souls, madonna Y/L/N,” he answered calmly.

“And how do you know my name?”

“You are not as inconspicuous as you think you are,” the guard eyed you and Ezio, his eyes carrying nothing but contempt in them. “All Templars in Italia know of you both.”

“So what will be done to us? Do we get to see a rope around our necks or do we get a chance to be purified by fire?” your voice was dripping with sarcasm, and Ezio gave you a warning look, already fearing what your fiery persona would do if unleashed.

Instead of answering, the guard gave a tiny nod to his comrades, who proceeded to lift your weak-from-exhaustion frame up. You decided not to fight them, knowing how futile it currently was to try and escape with a headache and tired muscles. You pointedly looked at Ezio, willing him to not do anything stupid. He clenched his jaw in anger but then looked at you sadly, not wanting for you to go. It wasn’t an ideal plan, but perhaps you could learn more from the Captain himself (praying all the while that you wouldn’t see his sadistic side).

Ezio was now all alone.

*****

The room you were brought into was lit by a large fire roaring within the fireplace, the orange tongues dancing in the air. Before the guards left, you were tied to a chair - so tightly that it actually hurt. You cursed yourself for drinking too much one night and then boasting to everyone about how you could escape any confinement like a professional. Damn Mario’s sweet wine to oblivion!

“Ahhh, I see you’re already wiggling about, my dear?” That voice, that smooth fucking voice laced with amusement, echoed from behind you, each word sounding clearer as Ignacio walked in.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

“Nothing exciting from you. Well…only your death,” he explained. “A prolonged one…,” he added darkly.

“Do your worst,” you retorted.

Ignacio smiled, showing his pearly-whites, “As you wish!” and just as he said that, he stabbed your thigh with a stiletto, that went through the limb like a knife through butter. You screamed loudly in pain, unknowingly making the guards shiver on the other side of the wooden door.

Ezio woke up from his little slumber with a start after hearing a feminine scream echo off of the limestone walls. He knew it was you up there. His heart clenched with worry at listening to your agony, making him stand up and rattle the metal door with a death-grip. Any second wasted in that cell, was bringing you closer to your end, and he’d be damned if he let that happen. Not before he told you he loved you…

“Hey, Ezio! You there?!” a boyish voice startled him out of his thoughts, confusion summoning a frown on his face.

“Who is that?! Come out from the shadows!”

“Not so loud, please! We don’t have long until the other guards come back, messere!” Emril stepped from behind the corner, holding a ring of keys in his hand.

“Who are you?”

“Your chance to be rescued. You have to promise me something though…”

Ezio was not in the mood for playing games, but for your sake, he was willing to hear the young man out, “What?”

Emril looked at the other man, now visible to Ezio, before turning his attention back to him, “You and your lover get out and take us with you. We want to leave this godforsaken place behind and start a new life!”

“But she’s not my lo-”

“Whatever! Do we have a deal?”

“I don’t like how suspicious it seems, but I won’t turn down your help.”

“Eccellente!” With a gleeful expression (reminding Manfredo how idiotic his friend could be), Emril opened up the cell door, letting the Master Assassin out.

Manfredo approached him with a pile of robes in one hand, and Altaïr’s Armour hanging off of his other. Changing as quickly he could, he was ready to leave that place behind, but not before rescuing you from Lavola.

“We have to hurry! Y/N’s life is at stake!” Ezio’s voice trembled with worry. His romantic feelings aside, he was desperate to have you back in his arms again, consequences be damned.

Thankfully and somewhat unexpectedly, the guards were all gone. Not one was in their vicinity. He looked at the pair of the now former guardsmen, and asked quietly and lowly, “Where is the Captain’s room?”

“Further ahead,” answered Emril, “it’s at the end of the hall to the right. You won’t miss it.” But before Ezio could take another step, Emril put a shaky hand on his shoulder, not wanting to anger the Master Assassin even more.

“Wait! What should we do?”

“Find ourselves some horses.”

“Will do! Be careful!”

“I will.”

*****

The moment Ezio stepped inside the room, he wanted to throw up at the sight before him. You were still bound to the wooden chair, but instead of seeing you well and awake, he only saw what the sadistic bastard had done to you.

Your body had suffered from multiple stab wounds, blood still seeping from some of them. One arm was completely covered with bruises, and all of your fingernails were removed. The sight was truly awful, but he couldn’t turn his gaze away.

Approaching your form, he brushed aside your hair had that was obscuring your face. It was completely bruised, just like your arm, but with additional cuts across your nose and left eye (which was thankfully left intact). At that very moment, Ezio wished you that you never were an assassin. That way, you would not have had a target on your back.  'But then I’d be left defenceless, ’ your voice echoed in his mind, reminding him that his wish was a selfish one, however he wanted it to be otherwise.

“A p-pretty s-sight, isn’t s-she?” a man’s voice gurgled behind him, making him turn around in surprise. It was Ignacio, lying in a pool of his own blood, that came from his crotch and gut. Following his line of sight, Ignacio weakly chuckled.

“That bitch m-managed to stab me w-where it hurts m-most. W-with a hidden-blade in her b-boot. I must say t-though, that was very clever of her.”

Ezio kept silent.

“Never knew I w-would go out like t-that. Still, I’ve m-made my peace with it.”

Now it was Ezio’s turn to speak. His voice was sharp and menacing, “You don’t deserve peace, you bastardo! Only your victims do!”

“Do you r-really t-think all the men and w-women I killed were innocent?! They were all bastards! Just. L-like. M-me,” with the last word spoken, he gurgled up more blood, his arms twitching for a moment and then falling beside him completely still. The Butcher was finally dead, though Ezio wished he could kill him with his own two hands.

Returning back to you, he untied you from the chair and picked you up bridal style, before leaving the castle. Outside in the courtyard, however, he was met with the man that took you out from your shared cell. He was looking at Ezio with a stoically.

“I am glad he’s dead. You have finally put an end to him.”

“Not me,” he looked at you. “It was her.”

“Doesn’t matter. He will never bother anyone again and that is enough for me. Rodrigo has wanted to get rid of him for a long time now anyway.”

“Then do send him my regards.”

“I will, Ezio Auditore. Today, you may leave. No man shall lift a blade against you. Let us leave the fighting for another day.”

Ezio couldn’t agree more. He did not want to shed any more blood - not with you in his arms.

And so he went outside the gates, spotting a wagon with horses waiting for you both. Emril and Manfredo were smiling at him.

“Let’s get you both home, shall we?”

Ezio nodded, and then carefully laid your body on the wagon with hay, before climbing up himself. The road home was a long one, but he would survive the wait, all the while keeping an eye on you and finding a doctor to sew shut your wounds in the nearest town or village.

  A week later…  

“Gah!” you suddenly shot up from the bed, clutching your side and breathing like you’ve been running several miles.

Noticing that you were awake, Ezio stood up from the windowsill and quickly approached you.

“Easy, Y/N! Easy…You’re still wounded, amore.”

“What?! Where am I?!”

“We’re back at the Villa Auditore. We got out of the castle.”

Memories rushed back to you - Ignacio. Him stabbing you. You stabbing him back. Then falling into oblivion.

Tentatively, you reached for Ezio’s rough hand. He readily placed it in yours.

“How did we get out of there? Who rescued us?”

“Manfredo and Emril. They were the guardsmen there, but had a change of heart and wanted to leave, just like us.”

“Then I suppose I should thank them later, if they’re still here, that is.”

“They are, and you will have an opportunity to do that later. I promise,” he spoke gently, but you saw that he wanted to say something more. There was that certain spark in his eyes, certain emotion, that made him seem like he was out of this world. And in a way, he was.

“Ezio, what is it? Stai bene (Are you alright)?”

“I…I almost lost you in there, Y/N. You were bleeding so profusely that I thought you would die in my arms that night…,” he answered quietly, the sadness creeping onto his face. You wanted to reassure him that you were still alive, but he placed a finger against your lips to keep you silent.

“I thought I would never tell you that I loved you before you died. That I would never have you in my arms again. You never really reciprocated my attempts at flirting, so I decided to use another approach - to just be there for you, and hope against hope that you would love me back.”

You gasped at the revelation, your thoughts racing in your head. So that’s why he ceased flirting with you incessantly. You thought that he was no longer interested in you.

“So I must ask you - is there a chance for us to be together?”

You squeezed his hand and looked him in the eye, letting your other one touch his face, “Of course there is, Ezio. I was afraid you didn’t like me that way. Sure, you flirted, but when you suddenly stopped doing that, it seemed like you lost all interest in me.

Ezio looked at you, shocked to the core. You loved him back. You. Loved. Him. Back! If he were a five-year-old, he would jump with glee, but instead, he embraced you, being mindful of your injuries.

You hugged him back, inhaling his scent. He smelt of fresh linens, roses, and of his own musk - that always drove you crazy.

”Te amo,“ you whispered.

”Ti amo anch'io, Y/N.“

After a moment, Ezio broke out of your embrace and immediately pressed his lips to yours - thus making a statement to the world (to his friends, family, enemies, and other women who would surely become jealous) that from now on, you and himwould never be separate souls again.

*****

"You know, our work is still not done, and I doubt it ever will.”

“Then let us do our best.”

You hummed in agreement, “Sí, let us.”

Tagging: @sassenach-on-the-rocks // @teacokememes // @bangtansugababy // @deejayers // @stardustvader // @marvelassassin221b // @iceboundstar // @tarjanisfrye // @one-who-hunts-eagles // @assassins-and-hidden-blades // @storminwomanform // @marshmallow–3 // @ourfallenwinter // @cath-with-a-c // @mavriarch // @mindadarksight // @kisstheassassins // @missdrake // @theswordofeden // @mariana-jones // @rls905 // @rinkydinkdagger // @sumayofficial // @lefrenchfrye // @unreadpoppy // @ass-sass-sin-o

[impracticaldemon]

Traffic Duty

Hakuouki fanfiction by impracticaldemon for Eliz1369 ~  Happy Birthday!

PART II of the Okita-Chizuru story Parking Ticket, in which Detective Okita Souji was demoted to traffic duty both as a punishment, and in order to go under cover to locate a mysteriously missing murdered man.

Summary:  In Traffic Duty, Okita discovers that the policewoman who got him into trouble in the first place - by being right about ending a police pursuit - has been given the task of making him maintain his cover role by performing his duties as a traffic cop.  But things heat up even before they hit the streets, when Okita begins to suspect his new partner of withholding information critical to the investigation.

Traffic Duty

“You’re Yukimura, right?”

Sōji eyed the young policewoman with more attention than he’d given her the first time they’d met. He was more observant than most people realized, but the circumstances had been less than optimal.

“Yes, Detective—that is, Okita-san.”  She ducked her head apologetically.  “Please excuse me for not using your proper rank, sir, but I was instructed not to give away your cover as a member of the regular forces.”

“I don’t care either way, but that’s ridiculous.  If it’s a small-scale operation, it will sort itself out whether they know who I am or not—plus, I doubt they’d have ears on us here in the station.  If it’s something worth my time, then there’s a good chance they already know me.”  

He turned away, fighting the urge to vent his bad mood on the too-serious Yukimura.  He was pretty sure the whole ‘traffic cop as cover story’ thing had been set up just to irritate him, but that wasn’t her fault.  To his surprise, since she seemed rather timid, Yukimura pursued the issue.

“Most respectfully, Okita-san, it seems useful to me to retain any advantage we might have.  And even if you are recognized, it is not—that is, I’m told it is not—entirely unbelievable that this is an actual punishment detail for you, rather than a covert operation.”

Sōji shut his teeth on an expletive before looking back at her.  If his expression scared her a bit, too bad; at least he was being civil.  Besides, it irked him that she was right.  He brought his hands together in silent applause.

“You have a point there, Yukimura, good job.”

To his dismay, his new ‘partner’ gave him a tentative smile.  He groaned inwardly.  This was what came of being too polite; people like her took it the wrong way and tried to get to know him.

“Thank you, Okita-san. Welcome to the station.  I hope we will work well together.”  She bowed, then picked up a take-away cup from the counter behind her, and held it out to him.  What was with this kid?  She had to know she’d gotten him into trouble, and he’d made it pretty clear he didn’t want to be here.  Plus, his reputation usually preceded him.

“I don’t like coffee,” he snapped.  That was stretching the truth, but good enough for an overly-helpful and temporary working acquaintance.  Besides, even Hajime-kun had been known to (silently) agree with Shinpachi’s declaration that the stuff he drank could no longer be called coffee.

Yukimura looked cast down for a moment, but persevered.  “I—I inquired into your preferences, Okita-san, and the coffee has extra cream and triple sugar.”

He stared at her.  Big brown eyes, way too innocent and hopeful for any kind of cop; trim figure, a bit on the smallish side, in a buttoned-to-the-collar regulation uniform; dark hair, neatly pinned up under her peaked cap. Nothing to indicate that she was trying to attract, seduce, or play up to him.  He hated not being able to identify a person’s motivations.

“Are you a waitress, or a cop?  I’m not here because I want to be, or because I think anything will turn up.  If you’d bothered to listen to the gossip about me, you’d know that I’m not out to be buddies with anyone, especially a kid who’s never worked a major crime in her life.”

Yukimura bowed again, small hands still clasping the rejected coffee.  Sōji found he had to squelch an unusual sense of guilt, but told himself she’d be better off learning to be less… less personal… with her colleagues.  He ignored the feeling that Hajime-kun would be looking disapproving right about now—his partner was a good man in a fight, and he trusted him to the hilt, but he had his flaws.

“I apologize if I offended you, Okita-san. Please come this way, I was told to discuss the details of this assignment with you before we went on duty.” She was apparently more composed than he’d thought.  He could usually get a read on just about anyone, if he bothered to try, but although his instincts said she was upset, the set to her shoulders suggested irritation rather than tears.  Not that he cared.

They made their way into a small meeting room, and Sōji was relieved to see a file on the table with his name on it. He flipped it open, hoping for updated information on the missing body, then sighed, and ran his eyes over his new patrol route.  His not-nearly-temporary-enough official job was to be on the lookout for traffic infractions and major parking violations, especially those that impeded emergency vehicle zones and public transportation.

When he looked up from the file, he automatically reached for his coffee and took a long swig.  It wasn’t bad, though he preferred it hotter. Then he glared at his deceptively innocent-looking companion, who had obviously put the cup down beside him the moment he wasn’t paying attention.  After a few seconds of that, he decided to ignore the whole coffee skirmish, so that they could get on to the more important part of the briefing.

“Okay, so I’ve got the gist of my cover.  I figure you’ll handle any actual stuff for Traffic, and I’ll just keep an eye on you in the unlikely event somebody tries to get at you.  What I want to know—”

“I apologize for interrupting, Okita-san, but my instructions were to ensure that you handled all aspects of the job.  Otherwise, it would be clear that I wasn’t training you.”

He leaned across the scarred wooden table, and used his height to glower down at her.

“Officer Yukimura.  I know for a fact that a suspicious individual drove off from the scene of a shooting, in a highly identifiable car, carrying the swiss-cheese version of a corpse.  I know that said car drove through the intersection at which you were stationed.  I know that you gave me the signal for ‘do not pursue’, but to be honest, I assumed you got the signal wrong.  You directed me to turn right, when the fleeing vehicle was going straight, and at that point I admit I stopped paying attention.  I was trying to overtake a probable murderer and the evidence of his crime, and you seemed like an idiot.  I want to hear your version of events—you were a little vague at the time of the incident.”

Despite his attempt at outright bullying, there was a stubborn set to Yukimura’s lips that boded ill for both of them.  “I would be happy to discuss the case with you, Okita-san.  We just need to go over the patrol route first—I have a few extra details to pass along about the neighbourhood, and what we do.”

Okita crossed his arms so as not to bang a fist on the table.  Like hell he was going to listen to the warblings of the local Neighbourhood Watch Association, and all the petty information that was important to Yukimura’s job, not his.

“You seriously expect me to play traffic cop?  Do I at least get to drive, or is that too much to ask for a lowly officer like myself?”

It was a dumb gibe, since ranking officers usually didn’t do the driving, but Yukimura finally looked a little panicked.  “I think you must already know this, Okita-san, but my division patrols on bicycle, or on foot, depending on the exact area and problems expected.”

“Ah, so if we spot any potential gangsters, or wanted murders, then we’ll pedal madly in pursuit! I think there’s some anime about the power of the pedal, isn’t there?  Never watched much of that kind of thing myself, but I have a colleague who does. It’s all too rah rah and cheerful for me.”

“Anime is not necessarily known for being cheerful, Okita-san.  Um, I mean—”

“Oh, you like anime, too? Well, I suppose it’s okay for kids like you and Heisuke.”  If she’d known him better, the sudden gleam in his green eyes would have warned her that he knew just how to wind up anyone who cared about anime.  As it was, she suspected him of making fun of her, but wasn’t sure what points to argue.

“I don’t watch a lot of anime, because so much of it is dark, disturbing, or violent!  Some of the artwork is nice, I suppose, but there isn’t a lot of anime suitable for children.”

“Awwwwww…  Well, how about slightly serious historical dramas then? But not too serious, because true love must triumph over annoyances like money and power.  You ever notice how they rarely have epilogues for those shows?” He snickered.

“Is Okita-san a fan of historical drama?”

“No!  Oh for the gods’ sakes, what the hell are we even talking about?!”

Yukimura took a deep breath. “We will not be pedalling after—or running after—any gangsters or murderers, Okita-san.  Assuming we come across anything, you will be contacting Detective Saitō, and then your headquarters, and I will be taking notes.  The problem last time was that we missed certain details—”

“Such as?”

“Well…”  Yukimura pulled a map from the folder she hadn’t left sitting out for him.  

Where did she get that? Ah—he could see that there was a semi-concealed, spring-latched drawer on each side of the table.  Convenient if you wanted something handy, but out of sight, or had to leave in a hurry and needed a quick place for your notes.  Most people would know about the drawers, of course, but ‘out of sight, out of mind’ was surprisingly effective—for a lot of things, anyway.

“Oi—why didn’t you give me that from the start?”  He cranked up the glower again.

“Because I was told to focus on your cover first, and the case second—in case you ignored the first part!”

Were her cheeks a little red?  He was finally getting to her.

“Right, got it.  Look, aside from our slight disagreement about what I’ll be doing, I don’t think there will be a problem with our so-called work.”  Leaning forward, and holding her gaze, Sōji rattled off a summary of their assigned route, the major landmarks and hazards—he was curious about a bookstore with the notation ‘does not sell books—dislikes customers’—and the heavy-traffic areas. He then pointed out the key emergency and public transportation lanes, and finished with an overview of the two low-income housing projects, which were prone to drug and prostitution problems. In deference to his desire to move things along, he didn’t add his usual comment that the high-income neighbourhoods had far more serious problems, but got to pay society in tabloid stories and ‘contributions’ to public salaries, rather than jail time.

Yukimura was visibly impressed, but it suddenly dawned on Sōji that he’d been showing off—which wasn’t his usual style.  Never let anyone see your whole hand.  He covered his discomfort by stabbing a finger into the map the girl had set between them.

“So?  Tell me about the case.  What did we miss?”

To her credit, she stopped staring at him immediately, and got with the program.

“Well, that particular area has automatic weighing scales at two hard-to-miss points, to ensure that only light trucks use the streets that are mixed residential-commercial.  The car didn’t set off any alarms, of course, but if you get there fast enough there’s a video record of all vehicles, with the digital weight shown beside them.  We were able to find and compare the weights of the car at the two points and it was definitely lighter by the time it hit the checkpoint just past the intersection where I was stationed after we got word of the chase.”

Ah—that would be the intersection where Sōji had ignored her clear, but apparently useless signals, in order to pursue, pull over, and—in the words of the complaint—harrass a prominent citizen without due cause in order to uncover absolutely nothing of interest in the man’s trunk or backseat.  The way the guy had grinned at him made it a cinch that Sōji hadn’t gotten the wrong car, but the police force had been officially embarrassed, and that was that.

“So we have a potential lead for where the body was transferred.  Good thinking.”  All business now, Sōji frowned.  “But you said you discovered this after the fact.  So how did you know I was following the wrong guy at the time of the pursuit?”

For the first time, Yukimura—what was her first name again?—looked a little shifty.  Or she would, if her face were able to express anything so sordid.  Honestly, he could see her in Hello Kitty pajamas with little pink bows on the sleeves. …And where did that come from?

“Um, well, Okita-san, I just… I just knew.  The driver of the car was far too care-free for a man with a body in the trunk.”

Sōji’s mind switched from Hello Kitty nightwear to the utter garbage this girl was suddenly trying to feed him.

“Bullshit.  No rookie traffic cop would try to signal an unmarked police car away from a hot pursuit on a hunch.  Is this seriously the line you gave your boss?  And they’re mad at me?”

“Well—well—it’s not just that—um, you see, I’d seen a hearse turn at the lights shortly before the sportscar, and it seemed suspicious!”

“Why?  What made it suspicious?”

“Er… well… there was no procession?”

“Duh, lots of hearses travel on business picking up stiffs from homes and hospitals and so on. Hell, maybe the mortician was out looking for donuts and a coffee.”

“No, he only drinks tea, and his partner is forcing him to watch his weight right now.”

“Come again?”

“Um, I mean, we do deal with the undertakers quite often, you know, because of funerals, and of course there are several, but I’ve gotten to know them, and only one of them—because he owns the business—sometimes goes out for coffee in the hearse.  Only, he doesn’t drink coffee.”

She was babbling, and they both knew it.  Sōji walked around the table, and perched himself right beside the struggling policewoman.  He leaned down into her face, which was undeniably red, and stared silently at her until she met his gaze.

“Cut the crap, and tell me what you know.  Otherwise I’ll refuse to work further with you on the grounds that you’re hiding something from the police about this case.”

“Okita-san!”

“Yes, Officer Yukimura? Care to try me?”  It was a sign of how serious he was that Sōji didn’t smirk at the possible innuendo.

“I know this whole neighbourhood very well.  I’m a—a community liaison officer.”

“Goody for you.”

“The car you were following—I recognized the driver as one of our recent trouble-makers.  He’s rich—or his father is—but his friend is even richer, and I have a feeling—"

“Like the one about the hearse being suspicious?”

Her face darkened, but she ignored him.  He was impressed, despite himself.  He’d gotten into her space, and as uncomfortable as she was, she was still fighting.

“I think they’re trouble. They’ve been in the neighborhood for just over six months, and our general crime rate’s been rising steadily, and too fast to be coincidence—”

“Do you suspect drugs? That was the case I was following.” Great, now he was talking to her like a real cop, instead of a glorified meter-maid with hunches and feelings about serious crimes.

“Yes, I suppose drugs could be part of it.”  She said it almost casually, as though dangerous drugs weren’t already way above her pay grade and experience.

Frustrated, Sōji leaned in even further.  He knew the kind of effect he had on people, especially impressionable young women.

“Spill.”

The girl stood up abruptly, faster than even Sōji’s reflexes could account for.  Predictably, the back of her head caught the point of his jaw, and they both stumbled.  Funny really. He could usually see these things coming a mile a way.  It was probably her weird conversation—it had distracted him.

“Holy mother of a duck that hurt!”  Gingerly testing his chin and lower lip with his fingers, Sōji glared at his assailant. “You really do have rocks in your head, don’t you?!”

“Aaaah!  I’m so sorry!  I’m so sorry!”

There was a sharp rap on the door.

“Yukimura-kun?”

The door opened immediately to admit a big man with all the hallmarks of an old-school cop, starting with his build, and ending with a nose that had clearly been broken more than once. He was sizing up Sōji the way a protective older brother might eye his youngest sister’s bad-boy date.

Yukimura hurried to put a smile on her face.  “I’m fine, Shimada-san!  Um, um, Okita-san was looking at the m-map with me, and I moved too quickly, and we bumped heads!”

Wait—why was she lying for him?  He’d been a bit of an asshole, and she’d reacted to him invading her space.  Not that he trusted her answers yet, by a long shot, but she was a cop (somehow), and he was treating her like he’d treat a suspect.

“Hmm.”  Dark, thoughtful eyes assessed Sōji from a height that easily topped his own unusually tall five foot ten.  “I understand.  I apologize for interrupting, sir.”  He nodded to Sōji, and gently closed the door behind him. Or Sōji thought he had, until he reappeared briefly to add:  “Yukimura-kun is one of our best analysts, Okita-san.  She is currently working in a couple of field areas in order to give her more insight into how data is gathered, and how best to train our future investigators.”

The moment the door was firmly shut again, Sōji narrowed his eyes at Yukimura.  It occurred to him—for no apparent reason—that he’d been glaring at the kid for most of the time they’d known each other.

“More mysteries, Officer Yukimura?  I read your file and—”  No, wait, he hadn’t read her complete file.  He’d been suspicious of her, so he’d checked her out, but there’d been a lot going on, and it hadn’t been a priority.

“Okita-san?”

“And anyway, why did you lie for me?  I told you, I don’t need any favours.”

Yukimura reddened again, but murmured, “…I thought it would be complicated and take too long to explain…”

“I guess.  So back to your highly-accurate suspicions and the hearse and so on.”  He made a ‘come on, hurry it up’ gesture.

“The man you were chasing was Shiranui Kyo—”

“Yeah, I know—highly identifiable guy in a bright red sports car.  He was carrying guns, but had a permit—though I’d love to know who he bribed for it.  Car’s not his.”

“Right, so, as I was saying, we’ve had cause to suspect a problem, but nothing tangible.  But it means I tend to, um, pay attention, when I see him around.”

“Oh?  It’s not just the long hair and tattoo?”

“No—that is, he does stand out, I suppose, but that’s not the point.  Except that maybe that’s why they use him for distraction, don’t you think?” She ignored, or didn’t notice, any personal implications.  Grudgingly, Sōji came to the conclusion that she was focussed on her story—or was such a pro that he couldn’t tell she was lying.  Gods, if she was a pro, he’d eat his hat.  He glanced sourly at the uniform cap he’d tossed onto the table—he wasn’t looking forward to wearing that again.  Unaware of his bizarre inward musings, Yukimura had continued with her story—or thoughts—or feelings.

“The thing is, about a month ago, something strange happened.  Most of the new crime has involved property theft, although the scope has ranged from wallets to full-scale house clear-outs.  In this case, some unusual, and expensive, scientific equipment was stolen, and although the perpetrator was spotted leaving the scene of the crime, in a red sports car, when we finally pulled the man over, the car was empty.”

“Okay?”  But she had his attention, now.

“So when the report came in about your case—that there had been multiple shootings, and a probable murder, and you were in pursuit—I was paying close attention.  More than I would anyway, I mean—um, that sounded wrong…”

“Why?  I mean what made you pay special attention other than a mere shooting and probable murder?”  He really couldn’t help the irony.

“Because something was bothering me about the original crime—the one with the science equipment—but I couldn’t explain exactly what.  Fortunately, I’d figured it out by the time you arrived in pursuit this time.”

Sōji waved at her impatiently to continue—again—trying not to wince as he replayed the rest of the scenario in his head.  The truth was, he’d written off her signals, and then gotten the Department into a legal brangle with the Shiranui guy over the way he’d dragged the punk out of his car. Dragged him, my ass.  The guy’d been smirking at him the whole time.

“Well, you see, the exact same hearse made the exact same turn on the day the scientific equipment was stolen.  And… that alerted my suspicions.”

Sōji suddenly felt a little better.

“So you did still signal me to change directions on nothing but a hunch.”  When she hesitated, he cuffed her lightly on the shoulder.  “Aw, come on, I’ll admit it was a hunch backed up by a strong coincidence.  And I probably should have stopped.”

“Well, there was one more thing to back up my… my hunch.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t recognize the hearse.”

“And you recognize every hearse in this city?”  He grinned at her, hoping a more friendly look would finally convince her to come clean.

“Well no…”

“I didn’t think so—”

“But I do know most of them.”  When he looked skeptical, she shrugged.  “I have a good memory for, um, details.”

“You pay attention to hearses?”

“Er…”

She wasn’t a good liar. But Sōji couldn’t imagine what she could be hiding, and wherever her guess about following the hearse had come from, there was just enough, barely, to make it worth looking into.

“So, to sum up, you saw the same guy, driving hell bent for leather in the same direction as in crime one—the science equipment—and you saw the same hearse—you think—turning in the same direction as in crime one, and that made you try to direct me away from the sports car and in the direction of the hearse?”

Yukimura appeared to be thinking hard.  What was so hard about it?  She had him half-convinced there might be a connection, and he’d stopped making fun of her—mostly.

“Oh! And there was one other thing!”

“…Okay?”

“The license plate of the hearse was unreadable both times.  It was all covered in dust and mud.  But the rest of it was really clean, as you’d expect in a business like that.  So it looked deliberate.”

Sōji rolled his eyes.

“Why didn’t you start with that?  I mean it’s small, but it’s highly suspicious.  It’s the kind of concrete stuff prosecutors love in court—or when we need a judge’s order to examine private property.”

He almost shook his head when he saw the girl’s expression.  Her eyes were shining as though he’d given her a commendation, instead of less praise than she probably deserved.

“Well then, let’s get to it.”

Silence.

“But, um, I’m sorry, Okita-san… We’re supposed to follow my regular patrol schedule, not go—”  She trailed off abruptly, no doubt because he’d turned to bang his head against the wall.

“Did you—does Hajime-kun—Detective Saitō—know all this?”

She hesitated. “Mostly?  I assume?  I mean, the summary of all this is in my final report…  Except I’m not sure I added the bit about the license plate—because… because your questions are what made me suddenly remember about that.”

“Just to be clear: everyone but me has a copy of your final report, which is the folder in front of you, which you were told to discuss with me only after we’d discussed my duties as a traffic cop.”

Sōji kept his face to the wall for a little longer.  He wanted to murder somebody, preferably Hijikata, and he suspected—call it a hunch!—that it showed on his face.  When he finally turned around, he was all business, and he saw the optimism rise again in Yukimura’s pretty face.  He still had the sense that something was off, but until he knew more, he was going to do what he was told, mostly.  Besides, that in itself would make Hijikata uncomfortable, with any luck.

~~~~~

Yukimura Chizuru was doing her best to stay calm, but it wasn’t easy.  For one thing, she’d heard all about Detective Okita’s good looks and bad-boy attitude, but she hadn’t expected to be, maybe, a little impressed with him.  Or affected by the good looks.  She’d never noticed anyone in that way before—that she knew of—and it was disconcerting.

More importantly, she was wondering how long she could keep coming up with reasonable explanations for knowing things she shouldn’t.  She was quite proud of having remembered the license plate anomaly.  Not that it wasn’t true!  She had noticed the dirt, exactly as stated.  The problem was that she’d only started putting together all the details after she’d suddenly realized that the police should be following the hearse, not the sports car.  And she didn’t think Okita-san would be keen on ‘I could sense a man dying from trauma injuries in the hearse’ as the real reason she’d wanted him to change directions.

[END of PART II]

Author’s Note:  Will this be continued?  Probably.  But when I got to 5000 words (a mere 5x what I’d planned), I decided I had to stop somewhere.  So there’s more already drafted, but other stories waiting to be written!

I hope you have/had a wonderful birthday, Eliz!!  And I hope you enjoyed the story! :)

[lapzoli]

history repeats itself II

note:  I'm trying a new thing; finish a chapter at a good point, not by word count. I've seen it work well for other stories, so I hope it will work for me too.

prev. 

ao3

summary:  Airports are busy, busy, busy. So many people!

.

Marinette honestly wouldn’t have been able to say if the flight had been good or bad, because she spent the entire time staring out the window wondering if she could use her yoyo to break the glass and leap out.

Two weeks.

For two weeks, she would be sharing a room with Adrien Agreste.

The thought made her want to scream again.

Alya had spent far too long cackling at her expense, only to pause to congratulate herself for bringing cute pajamas. She had a boyfriend to impress, after all. (Though Nino would probably be quite happy with whatever she wore...or didn’t.)

It was true that she was working on moving on, but staying in the same room as him certainly wouldn’t help. Or maybe it would.

Wasn't that some sort of test? Live with a person for a while and see if they're really the person you think they are?

Well then. She’d just have to take this test, decide whether or not Adrien was as perfect as she always made him out to be.

“Hello, Marinette?” Alya waved her hand in front of the girl’s face. “You’re spacing out again. I'm pretty sure your luggage already passed by.”

“What?” Marinette groaned as she indeed caught sight of her pink suitcase disappearing back into whatever hell airport luggages went into. “Nooooo.”

The curly-haired girl laughed, nudging her with her shoulder.

“Still thinking about Adrien?” She remarked. “It won’t be that bad. Don’t overthink it, okay? Adrien is a sweet guy, and you two already get along well enough. I mean, the worst thing that can happen between you two is that one of you hogs the shower or something.”

Alya put her luggage down and took her best friend by the shoulders, looking her in the eye.

“Seriously, girl. Do not overthink it,” she said, smiling a bit. “Your biggest worry right now is getting your suitcase.”

Marinette smiled, putting her hands over Alya’s.

“Yeah...okay,” she agreed. “Thanks, Alya.”

Suddenly, she spotted her suitcase coming around again and she yelped, nearly tripping over herself to race to get it.

Chloe scoffed, watching her for a moment before she turned her attention back to Sabrina, who was struggling to get the two bright yellow suitcases off the conveyer built, her own dark purple carry-on sitting by her feet.

“Hurry up, Sabrina,” she snapped. “I want to see the hotel Daddy picked out; it should be the best, of course, but I have to make sure I have enough room with the extra…” She crinkled her nose, “guest.”

“Coming, Chloe!” Sabrina assured, pushing her right foot back to try and lift the suitcase again. She squeaked in surprise when someone lifted up the other side and helped her set the luggage on the floor. “Oh, thank you, Nathanael.”

Chloe lifted her gaze from her nails, hearing her new roommate’s name. The redheaded artist picked up the suitcases and placed them in front of her, straightening and meeting her eyes.

“Did you really need suitcases this big for a two-week trip?” He remarked, brushing some of his hair away. Over the last few years, it had grown quite long and she had an inexplicable urge to chop it off for him. What was the point of having such bright eyes if he was just going to cover them up?

Shaking her head, Chloe scoffed and said, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” She looked meaningfully at the ratty brown duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Some of us have standards.”

Nathanael hummed, an amused smile tugging at his lips. It agitated her for some reason.

“If you say so,” he said before he left to go talk with Adrien and Nino.

Chloe huffed, crossing her arms. Some people were just so annoying!

Alix grinned at the scene and nudged Kim. “How long you think they’ll last?”

“Not very,” snorted Kim. “I betcha Nath will end up sleeping on the floor somewhere; Chloe’s like that.”

“I can’t believe you ever had a crush on her,” muttered the skater, shaking her head in disapproval. “I mean, I have to ask why.”

“I like a girl who bosses me around,” explained Kim, smirking at the shorter girl when she gave him a disdainful look. “What?”

“Nothing.” Alix waved her hand. “Hurry up and help me find my stuff already.”

“In that mess?” Kim eyed the countless suitcases on the conveyer belt, where more than just their classmates struggled to find their things. “You’re lucky I like-”

“-triple espresso for Briar!”

The barista put the cup of coffee on the counter before she went to make the next customer’s order.

The espresso was quickly picked up, given a curious look, before quickly approved.

“How in the world do you mix up Bridgette with Briar?” The dark-haired girl remarked, chuckling a bit as she exited the airport’s coffee shop. As she did, she glanced at her phone and she groaned. “I’m late!”

Stuffing her phone in her coat pocket, the young woman’s dark blue eyes darted around the area before they caught sight of the group of teenagers looking around expectantly. Thank goodness; she was at least in the right area for once.

Working in her mom’s tea shop was fun, sure, but they needed something a bit more to make rent; a part-time job at the museum was perfect, especially since it gave her a chance to be with-

“Madame Bustier’s class?” She called out. The familiar name made some heads turn, but the English baffled the other kids. Grimacing at her blunder, she switched to French, “Hello, hello? Is this Madame Bustier’s class?”

She smiled kindly at the fifteen teenagers, one of whom was giving her a surprised look.

“Welcome to London! My name is Bridgette Cheng; I’m going to be your chaperone.”

[aairieal-blog]

CHAPTER TWO Part II of Psychopathic Soulmates

"But you said that in order to be a rebel, I had to learn how to shoot a fanny, and I didn't even know the difference between a rifle and a gun." "You shot your hand, by the way. Are you ok?" He asks, covering my hand with his. I look down at my hand, where a bullet say comfortably in the center of my palm. I don't know how I didn't feel that; there was blood everywhere. "Ah!" I shriek, flinging my arm around. "Get it out, get it out!" The man, whose name I still don't know, kept walking, as if he'd never heard a thing. "Huuuuh, oh my god." I moan, holding my hand as far away from me as I could, as if there was a dead animal right in my hand. How is he going to look right at my hand, which has a bullet wedged into it, and walk away without so much as a look of disgust? "Thank you for saving me." I say, catching up to him after my freak out. "Whatever." He said, mumbling a bunch of things I couldn't hear. "What's your name?" I ask again, for what I believe is the third time today. "Guess." He said. What's up with the one- worded answers? "Tyler? Tyrone? Tyrese? Tyrell? Tyson? Tyga?" He mutters something under his breath. "Huh?" I ask, straining my ears. "Say it again?" "Tyler." He grunts. Very unique name you got there. "I'm Astrik." I smile. "Like, ass-trick." He nodded absentmindedly. "Well, since it's a long walk, why don't you tell me more stuff about you?" I say, trying to start a conversation. "My past has nothing to do with you, so you don't need to know." He snaps. "Okay." I say in a mockingly hurt tone. "I'll go first then."     "And that was how terrible my fourth birthday was." I say, finishing up right as we approached the door. The house was a beautiful sight; it was bigger than any house I've ever seen in real life, and I had some pretty rich parents. Every couple feet there was a watchtower that had two people on it, and there were guards around the perimeter, right next to the ten foot wall. Tyler strolls up to the guards at the gate. "Tyler, my man." One of them say, giving Tyler the weird, traditional boy handshake. "Glad you're still alive; we thought you were dead." So, is that the traditional greeting here? "Little baby Tyler went off in the woods to go play with his new girlfriend." Another says in a babyish tone. The other smirks, nodding his head at me. "She's a little too young for you, though. Luckily, there's no '25 year old dating a thirteen year old' rules anymore." He's twenty-five?! I would've thought he was younger than that. Another one hums a "mmm hmm" and says, "Wish I could find a fine toy like that, though." He says, scanning my body with his eyes. My cheeks start to flush a deep red. Uncomfortable was an understatement. I was stepping on needles right now. "Shut up." Tyler says, grabbing my arm, despite everything I told him about it. "She's not my girlfriend. Just thought she could be useful." That struck up a wave of comments as we walked away. "Tyler!" A girl squeals. "So good to see you. I thought you were dead!" She says, after running towards him at full speed, almost tackling him down. "It's good to see you, too, Cass." He says, kissing her cheek. "So, is she your new girlfriend?" She says in a teasing tone. He shook his head. "Found her in the woods. Found out she's been living there for the past two years, so I brought her back." I wave with a smile. "I'm Cass." She says, holding out her hand with a smile. "Astrik." I reply, grabbing and shaking it. She nods at Tyler, sending him off. "Now, it's time for you to meet your new family." She says, smiling. So what, am I an adopted child now? She opens the door, and walks inside. The place was bustling with people. Imaging trying to get through the halls of a small high school, then multiply it by two. "It's not always like this." She comforts. "It's just lunchtime." She leads me through the crowd, making me bump and run into everybody, but not even touching a soul herself. "This is the dining hall." She said, gesturing towards the mile long table piled high with all kinds of foods. Next to it sat a table where a bunch of people were already eating. She weaves through the even thicker crowd, and cuts in right in the middle of the line. "Hey!" Some dude says angrily. "Shut up, Elliot. Like I've never cut in front of you before." She snaps sarcastically.  "So who's the new kid?" He said, ignoring Cass's lash. "This is-" she paused, forgetting my name. "Astrik." I finish, holding my hand out. He gently grabs my hand, and instead of shaking it, he pulled it up to his lips. I internally cringed. He doesn't know where I've been. Heck, I don't even know where I've been, and he's kissing my hand like I just washed it. "Elliot." He says, giving me a half smile. I nod, and turn my hungry stomach towards the food. Food; exactly what I needed, after not being able to find any meat to eat for the past couple days. I'm yearning to put my tongue onto those colorful vegetables, and the golden brown bread. I was tired of meat. Meat was all I've been eating for the past two years. "So, Astrik." Elliot says, Cass seemingly gone. "You ever had a pancake before?" I laugh softly. "I don't think I have." Of course I have. I'm seventeen for gods sake! "Well, then. Let me be the first to introduce you to it." He grabs a big, fluffy pancake, and flops it onto my plate, then added a bucket load of syrup. The pancake it's self looked delicious, with its golden brownness and soft, fluffy insides, but watching him pour the maple syrup onto the pancakes, watching it gather into a puddle and Watch it drip over the sides, that got me wide eyed and drooling. I look up at his soft, grinning face, and imagine what it'd be like to watch syrup drip all over him. "Anything to drink?" He asks me, smiling at my eye-to-pancake contact. What do I want to drink? I can't get everything; I'll look like a cow. "I'll take chocolate milk." I say, laughing silently at my joke. Milk, cow, get it? He fills up a clear glass cup with the dark substance, and walks away with my cup in his hand. He leads me out to the living room, sipping out of my cup, and sits down. "I thought we had to sit in there?" I say, pointing my thumb towards the dining hall. He smirks. "The normal kids do, but the fighters get the good seats." "You fight?" I question, staring at him puzzled. He nods, taking a bite out of his bacon. "You don't even look like you work out." I tease, gesturing towards his sleek, collared runners jacket that somehow had a way of concealing anything. I used to have a jacket like that. Hated how it had pockets, but no hood. He scoffs. "Excuse me? I work out almost every day. It's mandatory for us to." He says, pulling off his jacket, the bulge of his muscles finally on display. "Us?" I repeat. "You fight, right? You got muscle over brains?" I nod. I may not have much muscle, but I can survive in the forest without dying more than I can do chemistry, let along physics. "Good." He sighed, leaning back onto the couch. "What's wrong with the others?" I ask. He shakes his head. "Fighters bash the scientists for choosing brains over fighting, they bash the doctors for taking their experiments, using them to heal other people, and both of them bash us because we're better than everybody. It's like the army and the marines." He explained, biting into his food. I look down at my food. "How'd you get chocolate milk and bread, though? All of that should be expired by now." He tilts his head in slight annoyance. "The nerds made up a way to make food out of mole rats, or something." I think he means molecules? Oh." I hum, biting into my pancake. "So, how'd you get here?" He asks me. I shrug. "Tyler." I mumble, stuffing another piece of pancake into my mouth. "Oh. You got the grump." He smiles. I nod, downing the milk. "I'll take his place, if you want." He offered. I raise an eyebrow, my mouth stuffed with milk and pancake. "All I can do is be your guide, though. You'll have to be Tyler's partner, though." I nod, attempting to swallow my food, but I instead choke on it. "You okay?" He asks me, laying his hand on my back. I shake my head. I've been choking for so long, my face started turning red and tears streamed down my face. He jams his first into my back, sending milk spilling out of my mouth.  "Thanks." I say in a raspy voice, after I swallowed my food and wiped my tears off my cheek, replacing them with smudges of mud. "C'mon." He says, grabbing my hand and leading me up the stairs. He walked down the hallway and stoped at a door. "Welcome to our humble abode." He says, swinging the door open. I was greeted with a messy room full of books and clothes. "Yup, that's humble alright." I say under my breath as I walk in. "Bathroom's over there." He said, pointing to a door. "Go hit the showers. I'll be back in ten with your clothes." I nod, and with that, I was left in a huge room alone. I walk over to the bathroom, and turn the water on. Water! I thought everything went out with the bang. Must've been those nerds that got our water flowing and out electricity working. I step into the shower, inspecting the giant mud puddle that formed under me, just from the first ten seconds I've been in this shower. I understand, though. The only thing close to a bath or shower I've had for the past two years was jumping into a pond of muddy water. I grab the soap, lathering it onto the loofah I assumed was mine, and rubbed it onto my skin. At first it was white, but then the suds started to turn brown the more I scrubbed, so I rinsed the soap suds off of my body and tried it again.  That's all I did; scrub, rinse, repeat. By the time I got out of the shower, Elliot was snoring away on the couch, a movie playing on the TV. I had washed, shampooed, conditioned, and brushed my teeth. I've never felt so refreshed in my life. I sit down on the couch next to him, and realize that the movie playing in the TV was romantic and I had made my entrance right when it got steamy. I shifted uncomfortably in my spot, realizing how lonely I was. I've been living in the woods, never dated a guy, much less kissed one, and there on the TV was a younger girl with a better love life than I've ever encountered. I glance over at the other end of the couch, where Elliot was curled up into a ball, snoring softly. I mean, if I wanted to, I could make out with him; I bet he was as lonely as I was, and if it would be anyone I'd give my first kiss to, it'd be him, even though I barely know him. The least he would do is decline, right? I sigh, and slide down the couch next to him. I take a good look at his face, it almost seemed child-like, and shoved him softly. He stirred, and I could tell he was at least half awake. "You okay, Astrik?" He mumbles, prying his eyes open. I shake my head. "You had a gnat on your shirt." I lie, smoothing down his shirt, awkwardly retreating back to the other end of the couch, flipping through the channels. Still flipping through the channels- there must be at least a thousand, since I've been going through them for the past two minutes. My palms start to sweat; I could feel Elliot's eyes on me. Why would I ever think of kissing a guy I don't even know, let alone a person five years older than me. "Astrik?" He asks, sliding down next to me. "Yeah?" I reply, sliding my sweaty hands on my pants, still flipping through the channels. "Are you okay? You seem kinda weird." He continues, grabbing the remote out of my hand. Um, hello? I'm the queen of awkward, and you're just noticing that? "You don't even know me." I retort, reaching for the remote, but no matter how much I pulled, the remotes stayed secure in his hand. He seemed unmoved by what I said, but I could sense that his mind was racing behind his stony face. "Astrik, I know I don't know you, but if we're going to live together, you could at least tell me what's wrong." He encouraged, pulling my hands into his. I gasp, jumping out of my seat. "Don't touch me." I order, backing towards a wall. "Well I just wanted to-" "I'm sorry, but touching people makes me nervous." I ramble, grabbing a jacket off the floor. "Oh. I'm-" "Sorry." I say, unintentionally completing his sentence. "I gotta go." I sigh, pulling on the doorknob and walking out the door. Aaaand. Now I have nowhere to go. Great. I sigh, and turn to walk down the stairs. What a better place to relax than my own personal home; nature. I reach the door, pulling the hood over my head. It was probably still raining. "Hey, Ashley!" Someone shouts from behind me. I turn around to see who the voice came from, and see Cass running towards me. "It's Astrik." I correct, plastering a fake smile on my face. "What's up?" "Elliot's sweatshirt." She points out, just noticing I was wearing it. "If this were middle school, you'd be dating right now." She jokes, elbowing me in my bony ribs. I laugh a fake laugh. "You know, Cass, I was just going on a run, so-" "Oh yeah. I'll go with." She smiles, already halfway out the door. God I hate people like her. "Sure." I agree, walking out the door. "You know, I know a great place to chill at." She says, stuffing her hands into her pocket. "I could take you there; you seem a little tense." She offers, looking up at me. "Sure." I agree, kicking at some rocks. Can I ever get a moment to myself? Ever since I got here, which wasn't long ago, there was always someone breathing down my neck. If this is what it's like, I'd rather stay out in the forest and starve. Although those pancakes I ate for breakfast was pretty good, with its thick, fluffiness and the sugary syrup. I could go for a couple more rounds of that. Oh, and the milk. It was so thick and heavy, filled your mouth with the chocolatey substance and left it with a thin coat of the liquid. I don't think I've ever tasted anything better in my life, even when I used to eat pancakes for breakfast every day. "Are you okay? You look kinda stiff." She asks me. And with these nagging people, I'd love to see them twist and writhe around when I finally get the courage to my my bony fingers around one of these people's neck. "I'm fine." I lie. I totally didn't just lust over Elliot, and he totally didn't wake up when I was centimeters away from his face. Totally didn't have an anxiety attack, and I totally didn't run off with his sweatshirt. Yeah, I think I'm fine. "Elliot didn't do anything, did he?" She continues. "I know he's not the type, but I still have to ask." Then I'd cut off their fingers and toes, listening to their painful screams. Yes, there could be a lot of things I could do do to torture them. "He didn't do anything." I reply. I did everything, and he was the one left behind, ignored and confused. "You know," she states, changing the subject." I would drag the gang out here every once in a while. Me, Elliot, Tyler, Gabe, Jessica, Hailey, Brianna, Dekka, Damien, and some other people you'll meet later. We would come out here and go camping for a day, then come back home and get massages. We call it our cheat day." She smiles, softly laughing at a joke. I nod, not really caring. "The fighters don't really get much time to rest." She sighs, her face twisting into a scowl. "We're constantly working out, training, or out on runs. We never get a minutes rest, but everyone else can do whatever they want." There we go with that fighter-nerd-doctor hate again. "That's not fair." I say, feeling the need to say something. "The others don't even do their jobs right, they slack off. But with us, we have to finish it out or else we die. Our lives are on the line, but we never get a bit of respect." "Well, that's wrong. They should do their jobs." I reply, still not listening, and I don't think I ever will. It went silent for a while, both of us deep in our thoughts. I was thinking about how fun it'd be to kill and torture people, but she could've been in her memories. I finally look up, and see the silvery glint of water in front of me. The sky was a dark grey, and little black raindrops fell from the sky, Sharing their nonexistent color with the rest of the world. I have to admit, out of my supposedly two years in the forest, never have I ever seen such a beautiful thing near the trees. "Wow." I say aloud. "She's a beauty." Why do people always refer to things as she, and not he? I wonder who made up that rule. "Yep." She sighed, resting her foot on a log proudly. "She never gets old. You could stare at it for fifty years and not tire of it." I nod, turning to walk along the edge of the lake. "And the best thing is that this isn't even our water source; it'll never run dry." She states.  "So where do you get water?" I question, kicking some rocks out of the mud. "One of the nerds used to work for sone weird, top secret company. He's been creating water out of electricity for years." Water out of electricity? That doesn't sound quite right. "You mean electrolytes? Like in SmartWater™?" She shrugs, picking up a rock and tossing it into the water. I shake my head. "You need a flat, round rock in order to skip it." I state, grabbing a round flat rock. "They're the best for skipping, but you have to make sure it's a little different." I say, correcting myself and dropping the stone down. "But you don't want it too heavy; the rock stays in the air 1,000 times more than it hits the water, and the water doesn't affect its flight, it almost bounces off the surface of the water, so you don't want a rock too heavy." I continue, grabbing a better rock. "Then you crouch down, ten degrees to the water, so that the rock can be submerged into the water and have the speed it needs to skip." I say, crouching down. "Then you throw it, and make sure it's spinning; spinning is always better than flipping." I finish, tossing the rock onto the water, watching it skip. Cass turned to me, impressed. "You skipped it fifteen. You're good at this." I smile. "Did you know that they used this method during World War II? The British made missiles that could skip over water and hit enemy targets." I hear something rustle behind me. "Did you hear that?" I wonder, straining my ears to hear. She smiles at me. "Don't worry about it. If there was someone from the outside, the guards would have already rung the bell. It's probably someone taking a hike." The wind blew a chilling breeze across my face, and I could smell who it was. I sigh, relaxing a bit. "It's just Elliot." In the past ten minutes I've been out here, I've gotten over Elliot and everything that had and had not happened, so I was pretty chill now. "Hey girls." He greeted in a high pitched mocking voice, finally conning out of the trees. "Go away Elliot, I'm spending time with Ashley." She says, giving me a joking smile. This time I didn't correct her. I knew she was doing it on purpose. "Well I have to ask Astrik something." "Shoot." She said, placing her hands on her hips impatiently. "Alone, Cassie." He says, smiling. She shoots me a look and walks away. "So, what was that?" He finally said after Cassie was out of earshot. "What was what?" I repeat. "Why did you freak out when I touched your hand? I'm not that kind of guy." I sigh, digging my foot into the slick mud. The rain was pounding onto my head now. "I've been through a lot, Elliot. I've encountered some... rude people and I guess it left a scar." I shrug. "So you're saying that nobody can touch you unless you touch them first?" He questions. I nod. "That's how it works." "And why were you laying all on top of me earlier? It doesn't take much to kill a gnat." He asks. I feel my cheeks warm up. "I guess I just-" "Wanted to jump on the first person you saw because you've been living in the woods for two years, and you're seventeen now?" He says, completing my sentence. My face heats up, and I shift uncomfortably. "Hey, I get it. You're seventeen now and you need to catch up." He says, giving me a smile. I bury my face in the wet sleeve of his sweatshirt. I'm so embarrassed right now, I can't even look at him. "It's okay." He soothes, pulling me into a hug, rubbing circles on my back and resting his chin on the top of my head. I immediately get swarmed by the faint smell of his cologne and the warmth of his body. "You're wearing my sweatshirt, by the way." He says, smiling. Does he ever stop smiling? "I'm sorry." I mumble into his chest, wrapping my arms around him. He chuckles. "You can keep it. It looks better on you, anyway." "Are you two lovebirds done yet?" Cassie shouts over to us. I pull away, my clothes now sticking to my body. "Yeah." I shout back, turning to run towards her. Elliot pokes my arm. I turn around, raising an eyebrow. "Be safe." He says, bending down to kiss my forehead, as if I was his daughter on her first day of school. "I nod, and take off running. "You didn't hear anything." I threaten when I reach her. She smiles. "I didn't hear a word, honestly." She admits, raising her hands in surrender. "What'd he even say, anyway?" I blush, and look down at the lake. "He just said that he was worried about me. I've been through some trauma and he kind of triggered it." I confess. Well it was the truth, wasn't it? "He's protective of you." She states. "Probably sees you as the sister he he used to have." "Used to have?" I repeat. "What happened to her?" She presses her lips together, and I could sense that she knew she said too much. "She used to be a rebel like us, but she died on a food run. We were looking for food and we stumbled into the wrong person." She sighs. "She was a good kid. About your age, well, she would have been your age now. Elliot still goes to her grave every night. You should go with him. It's a beautiful view." I roll my eyes. "So you only want me to go just because the view was pretty? You're very nice." She laughs. "That's not the only reason, of course. I'm Just saying that it's nice out at that time of day. Plus, you get to see him get all teary and stuff." She jokes, elbowing me, once again, in my bony ribs. "Stop joking about this!" I order, jabbing a finger into her face. "Never mock the dead, or they'll come back to haunt you." "Okay, jeez. I was just trying to lighten the mood." She says in an innocent tone. "He blames himself for it, though." She continues, ignoring my scold. "He was the one that encouraged her to go. It was her first run." I shake my head. "Well, it sure sounds like it's his fault." I agree. She nods. "It is, but you have to tell him otherwise. You can't blame a guy for his own sisters death." I shake my head. "People need to know the truth. No matter how much it hurts, it's always better than a lie." "Well, make sure you're around him when the sun sets. That's when he goes to see her." She says, walking away. "Where you going? I shout. "Home." She yells back. "It'll be lunch time soon." Home. Such a commonly misused word. Home isn't where you live, it's where you feel safe. Lots of people don't feel safe in their own houses, but a whole different place is where they feel safe, like a tree, a person, a gift. This wasn't home, at least not for me. "You coming?" She asks me, turning back around to look at me. I nod, and jog to catch up with her. "So what do you want for lunch?" She asks me, cueing my stomach to growl. I shrug. "Doesn't matter." I used to be in my emo phase, but not only did I grow out of it, but after living in the woods for two years, I found out that there are always things worse than what I'm going through, and that I wish I had the things I complained about now. "Rebel cooks do whip up some badass food, Astrik." Cassie continues. "You'd be surprised with what they can do." Shoot, you could give me a stick and I'd jump on it. I'm so starving, I bet the chicken they killed wanted to die just to feed me. "Is that so?" I say, seemingly interested. Was I the only one that watch cooking shows back to back, but still burned water? "Do you cook?" She asks me, ignoring my question. "I eat air, don't I?" I joke, throwing my head back to laugh. She smiles. "So, not a cooker? What do you do then?" I shrug. "Run, I guess. I've always been good at avoiding things." Because I overthink every situation I'm in and see everything that could happen from all sides and find out how to avoid it. "So when do you start training?" She asks me. "I don't know. I've never asked." I admit, walking up the stairs to the house. "I could do workouts with you before you start. You'll need it, the first couple of weeks are hell." Someone says from behind me. I turn around to see, of all people, Elliot standing right behind me. "Were you stalking me?" I say in a offended tone. He shakes his head. "I was just going for a run with Damien and I came in for lunch." Do they have a clock or something on them? How do they know the time? "He's right, though." Cassie agrees. "I almost died the first two weeks." I shrug. "Sure. Might as well start now if I'll do it later anyway." Cassie smiles at me. "I like your attitude, Astrik. If I had thought like you in college, I might not have dropped out." Of course you can't go anywhere without encountering the dumb college dropout that learned the life lesson the hard way: a McDonalds job looks like a lot of money when you don't pay the bills, but is pocket change compared to a college education. "Yeah, me too." I agree. Then I realized that I never was in college. In fact, if the world was the same, I'd still be in high school. Cassie stifles a fake laugh. "You don't even know what it's like, kid. You were learning fractions, I was selling my soul to a school that sucked up all my money, and still left me in debt." Second graders learn fractions. "Hey, second graders learn fractions, you know." I say in an offended tone. You know, it's funny how in kindergarten you don't even know how to spell your own name, but in the nine months of first grade, you hammer addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, reading, and writing. Imagine how many less years of school we'd have if every kid already knew that before they were four. "Okay, kid, now you're boring me." Cassie says, rolling her eyes. Did I say that out loud? "Did I say that out loud?" I say, out loud this time. "If that's the kind of things you think about all day, you have no life." First of all; I don't have a life. I'm pretty sure I was supposed to die out there in the forest. Second, I think about lots of different things. Things from rules of physics to cringing at something I've done years ago. "You don't even know me." I spit, stomping up the stairs dramatically. "Extra much?" She laughs, following me up the stairs. I live for extra. I am extra. I was made extra. "I like being extra, okay?" I sass, pushing my door open. Definition of extra: doing too much, being pretentious, and putting on a show. Definition of pretentious: attempting to impress by affecting greater importance. I was none of those. "Well, I'll leave you guys to do whatever you guys do. I'll be in my room." She says before walking away. I sigh, pulling the sweatshirt over my head, my shirt that clung to it also came off. "I'm so glad to get out of these wet clothes." I sigh, looking through my pile of clothes on the floor. He nods, pulling off his clothes and replacing them with dry ones. "Turn on the TV." I order, finding a shirt and pulling it on. I watch him grab the remote, flipping through the channels as I pulled off my pants. I walk over to the couch, looking intensely at the channels he flipped through. I smiled when he stopped at Supernatural. "You watch Supernatural too?" I smile, jumping over the back of the couch to plop down next to him. He nods, slinging his arm around my shoulders, causing me to flinch and remove them. "How am I going to get comfortable if you won't let me sit in the only position that makes me feel comfortable?" He complains, slouching over. "I'm sorry." I whine back. "I don't control what I've been through." If I could, lots of things would be a whole lot more different. He sighs. "You're going to have to fix whatever's going on with you, Astrik." He says, stating the obvious. What are you gonna do? Fill me up with a bunch of pills until I explode. There's no cure to PTSD you know. "Would you stop saying you thoughts out loud, damn it." He laughs. "It's annoying." Oops, I did it again. "Well what are you gonna do, then?" I ask. "I could take your hand and hold it and never let it go." He considers. I shrug. "Try your best, but my self defense kicks in when I'm triggered." I say with a laugh. He ignores me, and gently grabs into my hand. I immediately bring my other hand up to his face with a loud smack. "Ow!" He squeals, rubbing his face with his hand. "I told you." I laugh. "Time for your next move, Einstein." He sighs, and takes both of my hands in his. I was struggling. I couldn't see the flashbacks anymore, which was a blessing, but I could feel burns on my body from where he touched me, and it hurt. Hurt like lighting a match against my skin. I grunt, closing my eyes. I didn't want to hit Elliot again, but I didn't want to burn like fire when he touched me. "Open your eyes, Astrik." He soothes, rubbing circles onto the back of my hand with his thumb. "I'm right here." I was panting, tears streaming through my closed eyes. My skin was burning, as if someone poured gasoline on my body and lit it. I could feel the fire pumping through my veins, my blood, my skin. It hurt like hell. No, it hurt worse than hell. It hurt like hell times a thousand. It hurt like death. "I can't." I manage to say through the lump that formed in my throat, choking down the tears that fell into my mouth. "Yes you can Astrik." He encourages. He better not say that stupid "I believe in you" stuff that they say in the movies. Then, unexpectedly, I feel his lips connect with mine, and all the pain stopped. All the pain, regret, sadness, anger, and depression faded away, as if a heavy weight was lifted off my shoulders. The kiss only lasted about three seconds, but by the time it was over, I could feel my aura was a shimmering purple. "It was what you wanted." He explains, turning back to at least twenty minutes ago. It wasn't what I wanted, it was what I needed. After living most of my life without someone that really cared about me, I felt the one thing I've needed for the first time in my life; love. Love was a beautiful feeling, too. It felt good to know that no matter what, there's still a place to come home to, to know that there would always be one person in the world that used to be filled with fifteen billion people, but is now probably two, that would never leave you when you need them most. Plus, it was just a bonus that it got me off of PTSD. "I'm sorry, I blabber. "You shouldn't be the one apologizing." He shrugs, turning back to the TV, slinging his arm around my shoulders again. I sigh, turning back towards the TV. It was the episode where they shot every scene from inside the car. "Don't you ship Sam and Dean?" I wonder aloud. "They're brothers, Ass." He states, making a face at me. "So? A ship is still a ship, even if some people think it's wrong." I defend. "I legit thought that they were gay when I first watched this show." He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't care. You can ship them all you want, but there's nothing better than Destiel." "Castile and Dean?" I screech, offended. "There's nothing better than Sean!" "Destiel." "Sean!" "Destiel!" "Sean!" "Want to fight about it, nerd?" Elliot challenges me, standing up and jumping around. "Fight me!" I say, accepting the challenge. I shouldn't have said that, because in less than a second, I was on the floor, a pillow smacking at my face. I laugh, grabbing the pillow. "Not literally, you idiot." I laugh, sitting back down. "Are you guys done flirting yet?" Cass teased from the doorway. "Not flirting, Cassie." I retort. "Whatever. It's time for-" "Lunch!" Elliot squeals, jumping off the couch and running towards the door. I roll my eyes, pulling on a pair of thick leggings. "C'mon Assie!" He continues to squeal, jumping around like a kid. "It's lunch time, aren't you coming?" I sigh, pull on his red hoodie I was wearing, and walk out the door, pulling my hair into a ponytail. "Lets go Assie, hurry up!" He squeals, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hallway. "Would you slow down?" I snap. "What's the difference between breakfast and lunch, anyway?" He stopped, letting go of my hand, something flicking behind his eyes. "Because its lunch time and I haven't eaten since breakfast." Cassie mimics quietly from behind me. "Because it's lunchtime and I haven't eaten since breakfast!" He squeals again, grabbing my hand again. "No, seriously, stop." I laugh. He slows down to a walk, his eyes clouding over as he squeezed my hand tighter. "Are you good, fam?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah." He lies absentmindedly, as it he were in another world. I send a confused look back at Cass, and she shakes her head, mouthing something. My mind immediately goes to his dead sister. Cassie said that he sees me like a sister, so I must've triggered him. People are so triggerable. Triggerable? Triggering. Nope, I think it's triggerable. "Are you sure?" I ask again, jumping down the stairs. "Yup." He sighs, opening the door. "Where you going? It's lunchtime." I tease. "Out." He snaps, giving a look to Cassie. "But do you have to go now?" She asks him, a worried expression on her face. "I didn't think you left until later." "Yes." He sighs. "Okay. I'll go with you, then." I offer, making my way towards the door where he stood. "No. Don't follow me." He pleas. I nod. "Be safe." "I will." He says, pulling me into a hug, kissing my cheek. "I love you." He whispers, burying his head into the crook of my neck. I could feel the fresh tears pooling into the fabric of the hoodie I was wearing. He did not just say 'I love you.' did he? How in the world could he tell a person that he doesn't even know, that he loves them? He must've gotten hurt a bunch of times when he was a kid. I nod, pulling away to let him go. He gives Cassie a hug, whispering something in her ear. I wonder what they're talking about. "I'll be back in an hour." He says, turning on his heel to walk out the door. "You're gonna follow him, aren't you?" Cassie asks me, a mischievous grin on her face. I probably should, shouldn't I? "Yeah." She smiles, nodding towards the door. "It's in the forest." She explains. "By the cliff." "Maybe I should get some food. He said he'd take an hour." I say, shaking my head. "He likes lemon meringue pie, but if you can't find it, just get anything." I nod, and head towards the kitchen. I had no idea what lemon meringue pie is, much less what it looks like, but I'm not leaving this house without it. Looking through the desserts, they all looked the same to me. A slice of this, a bowl of that. Maybe something would tell me what the heck lemon meringue pie looks like? Lemons- maybe it's yellow? I don't know what a meringue is, but I know lemons are yellow, and if it's a pie, it has to be smaller than cake, right? I don't know. I haven't seen a cake in forever. "Maybe?-" I consider, stopping at a yellow cake, or it could've been a pie. Nope. Definitely a cake. Move on. White cake, brown cake, red cake, cupcakes, brown cake, crispy pie, black pie, blue pie, red pie, brown pie, yellow pie. That's the only yellow pie, so I guess that's the one? I sigh, and cut two slices out of the pie. Hopefully it's the right one. "In the forest, by the cliff. In the forest, by the cliff." I repeat to myself, swerving through the crowd and out the door. I search the forest to my right, looking for a cliff. The cliff was the outer half of the forest. How in hell was I supposed to know where he was? Wait, there it is; there was a whole section of the forest that was on higher ground. I guess he was there? I sigh, and run over to the break in the ground. Wait. He told me not to follow him, so should I be quiet? Probably. Luckily, with me living in the forest and all, I'm pretty experienced with creeping around. But, how am I going to climb this six foot tall cliff with two plates of pie in my hands? Just put the pie at the top before you climb it maybe? Shut up. Stop talking to yourself. "Well I'm sorry that there's nobody else to talk to." I say aloud. Stop talking or you'll blow your cover! Okay, okay. Jesus. Then, I realized that it just got done raining, and the dirt on the cliff softened into mud. Luckily, it was only six feet tall and my hands could already touch the top of the cliff. I sigh, setting the plates on the top of the cliff, hoisting myself over the edge gracefully. Getting to the top, I wiped the mud on my pants a continued towards the trees. I walked about two feet into the forest when I noticed that there was a slant at the edge, which would've allowed me to easily walk up here. Great. Now I got my pants dirty for nothing. "I brought you these, Ava." I heard Elliot say as I approached the clearing where he sat. "They're better than the ones from yesterday." I crouched down behind a bush, pushing my hand through the leaves, trying to make a hole big enough to see through. "It rained today." He continues, not hearing me. From the looks of it, Elliot was sitting on a log, crushing the dried leaves of flowers between his finger. He sniffed. I couldn't see his face, but I could tell he was crying. "You used to love the rain." He sobs, resting his head in his hands. And I thought I was crazy for talking to myself, but he talks to a spirit that might not even be there. "I remember when we were kids," he sobs, kneeling down on the ground. "You used to drag me outside every time it rained. I'm sorry for leaving you outside so many times." The wind blew, blowing my hair into my face. "I wish you were still here, Ava." He cries, grabbing a fist of dirt. Would now be the time to come out? You won't know until you find out. "I messed up today." He continues, finally controlling his voice. "I kissed a girl today." Aaaaaand there goes the perfect time to emerge. "Her name's Astrik." He explains. "She reminds me of you. She looks like you." Do I really? "She's your age, too. I'd love for you to meet her someday." The wind blew again, this time from behind me, as if pushing me through the bush I crouched at. "She was too young." He continues, oblivious to my presence. "I shouldn't have done it, but I couldn't resist. She's the only person that loves me the way you did, and even better was that she was someone I could kiss." He explained. "I don't liked her like that, though." Well, I'm about ready to turn back around and eat this pie back at the house, aren't you? "Is that right? She's your age." He asks, stroking the ground beneath him. The wind blew harder, almost toppling me over. "What's that?" He said, pushing his war closer to the ground. The wind blew even harder, making my hair whip against my face. I guess now was the time to emerge." "I know you're there, Astrik." Elliot says in a steadier tone. Welp, there goes the element of surprise. "How'd you know I was here?" I asked, standing up. He nods at the grave. "She told me." "Hi Ava." I smile, kneeling down on the ground next to Elliot. The breeze flowed again, and I could almost hear voices. "This is Astrik." He greets, leaning on my shoulder.   "I've heard a bit about you." I say, shaking my head at Cassie's blasphemy.    The wind blew, and I could hear a sickly sweet laugh. Cassie really doesn't know about respect, does she? What the wind said wasn't funny, but her laugh was contagious, and made me want to laugh too.     "Do you believe in rebirth, Astrik?" Elliot asks me, interrupting my laugh session. Rebirth. Religiously, people are "born again" the day they die, so that the body that was born could walk the earth and be a better version of the dead body. He was most likely referring to me and his sister, which are the same age.     "I think that you're thinking of death and resurrection, but yes." I agree. He takes a weary glance at the ground.    "You and Ava are the same person." He said, munching on the pie I never mentioned to him. "I feel like... like when people die, their spirit takes the form of a new body. I mean; you even have the same exact voice as her." I nod, grabbing my slice of pie.     "Ava and I used to eat lemon meringue pie every night." He sniffs, shoveling another piece into his mouth. "My mom ran a bakery, so we would steal a piece of pie every night and sit outside to watch the sun set." So is that the reason why he goes out at sunset?   He  sniffs, wiping a tear away from his already wet cheeks.     "And when she told me a kid at school called her ugly, I went over there and beat him up." He sobs, laughing at a distant memory.   I would've loved to have an older brother stand up for me. Heck, I would've loved to have anyone stand up for me. Nobody even cared about me when I was a kid.     "And when I left for-" he squeaks, the tears he struggled to keep down finally bursting out. Aaaaand in times like these when you don't know what to do, what do you do?     " I miss her." He managed to say between fits of panting sobs. I sigh, and wrap my arms around his shaking body. He better thank me later; I hate hugs to the death of me.     "I know." I whisper into his ear. And that was that. I sat there holding him for at least another half hour, letting him cry a river into my shoulder.   Now that I think about it, can you cry a river into a bone? If rocks split from water erosion, then someone should definitely be able to cry a dent into your shoulder right? Oh, the things you think about, Astrik.   I know. I'm such a nerd.  Now you have to remember the crying boy on your shoulder and not think about rocks and bones.   Okay, when you say it that way, it makes me sound like I'm crazy. We're the same person, dang it. I'm from your conscience, you're speaking through your brain. Now get this kid off of you before he falls asleep.     "I'm sorry." Elliot mumbles, moving away as if he heard my thoughts. Conscience!   Whatever.     "Can I-"     "You can do whatever you want with me, Elliot." I say, internally gagging after realizing how wrong that sounded. He laughs, leaning back to lay on the ground.   I'm not that funny. You nasty.     I clear my throat. "What were you going to say?" I had to wait a few minutes for Elliot to recover from his laugh attack.    "How could you say that with a straight face?" He laughs. I guess they never lose their immaturity, no matter how old they are.     He finishes laughing, placing his hand on my face and caressing my face. "I'm glad you're here, Astrik." He says, switching to a more serious mood. "Nobody ever comes with me when I come up here anymore. They're all 'too busy" to ever do anything for me." Aaaaaaaaand that got depressing really fast. I shrug. "I've been living alone in the woods for two years. It's nice to be around people." He shakes his head. "Yeah. It's always good to be around people after you've lived most of your life alone." Aaaaaaaaaand cue the childhood stories. "What do you mean?" I ask, standing up off the ground to wipe the dried mud off my pants. He sighs, standing up to his feet, setting off at an annoyingly slow walk. You know, the pace that makes you want to murder the person in front of you. "When I was a kid, I didn't exactly have a set group of friends. I just hopped from person to person each year." "Where are we going?" I ask, realizing we were moving in the opposite direction of the house. He shrugs. "On a walk, I guess." "Anyway," he continues. "I really never had a friend growing up, I just fit in with the popular kids." Oh, and you must've really suffered. "You?" I say, shocked. "How did you not have friends as a kid when you have so many friends now?" He shakes his head. "I always had friends, but I never talked to them nearly as much as they talked to me. I'm kind of in my own world all the time." Yup, sounds like some real bad stuff. "That's not even the worst if it." He smiles, as if reading my thoughts. "My father was abusive. He didn't even drink, but he always hit my mother all the time." He continues, shaking his head. "He would take it out on us sometimes, too. Actually, the only time I ever had a full conversation with someone was when I'd eat pie with my sister every night. It felt good to just talk about your day and get your feelings out, even if my dad hit us after." I could hear his breath shake as he held in all his feelings inside. "I can't believe your father would hit your mom like that." I say, envisioning the picture of his mom crying in a corner. He curls his hand onto mine. "I know. If I ever get married, I'd treat my wife with the most care I've ever given. I would cook her meals, get her what she wants, I'd memorize her favorite kinds of coffee and her favorite restaurants, and I would even rub her feet every night." That sure sounds good, the foot rubbing part. Lord only knows the relief of taking off your heels at night, only to be followed by the pain of blisters. "I've already figured out everything I wanted to do in life, now all I have to do is do it." I take a look over the cliff. "I'm sorry." I whisper, almost inaudibly. He turns to look at my face. "For what?" "For this." I say, looking at the forest around me. "It seems like you had your life planned out. I'm sorry that this had to ruin it." "I'm still looking." He sighs, scraping his shoes against the ground. "Haven't found anyone, but I'm still looking." "I swear to Jesus Elliot, if you don't, I'd have to marry you myself." At least one of us would die happy. He smiles, shaking his head. "It's nice of you to offer, but you're too young. You'll be in a white dress, I'll be in an orange jumpsuit." Haha, PLL reference.     "Besides, you'll have to be the aunt of my kids."   I frown. "But I wanna get my feet rubbed too. You have no idea what a girls foot goes through in a day."     "How long have we even been out here?" He asks, changing the subject. Good question.     "No more than thirty minutes would be my guess." He turns to look back at the house, then up at the sky. "We better get inside." He suggests, "before we're too late for lunch." To be honest, I wasn't hungry. Just that half a pancake I ate at breakfast could keep me full all the way until the next day. "Are you hungry?" "Not really. The only reason I eat lunch is for the pie." "Then you can start my pre-training now." I watch him squint at a tree, deep in thought. "I hope you know how to swim." He smirks, a mischievous Twinkle in his eye.   I furrow my brow in curiosity. "What do I need to swi-" Before I could even finish my sentence, Elliot shoved me off the edge of the cliff. What he should have asked was if I was afraid of heights.   Well, I consider it a fear of falling, not a fear of heights, but whatever. You probably want to curl into a ball, idiot. A bellyflop from this height would surely hurt. I curl into a ball, hugging my legs to my chest just seconds before I hit the water. Sinking down into the water, I open my eyes to see the biggest waterfall I've ever seen right on top of me. Of course I guessed it was a waterfall, since I was being sucked under a current of water banging down on me. The best thing to do is just follow the water instead of fighting against it. Heaving out a sigh, I realize that I only have a mouthful of air. That hit really knocked the wind out of me. I feel something splash next to me, and I'm suddenly out of the current and pressed against a rock.     "I guess you don't know how to swim." He teased, holding onto the rock.     "I do know how to swim, you dingbat." I retort.     "Whatever. I hope you know how to climb your ass up a cliff. There's no other way up and I'm not carrying you."   I've only been rock climbing once, and that was a fake rock with harnesses to catch you when you fall.     "I know how to climb up a cliff, but maybe we could just walk back up?" I suggest, already climbing out of the lake. "I prefer not to climb with wet and heavy clothes."    "Sorry, Astrik. This is part of your training."     "Well just because you only see one way out doesn't mean there aren't others."     "But when the time comes when there's only one, you have to know how to do it right."     "I wanna see you climb up a cliff with saggy wet clothes, then."     "Got damn it Astrik I will get you to climb that rock even if it's the last thing I do."     "I wanna see you try."   In just a matter of seconds, Elliot was out of the water, shoving my face towards the cliff.     "You're not leaving until you climb it."   I squirm around, trying to find a way out of his grip.     "So what are you, my dad now?" I sass, giving up on getting out of his grip. I couldn't see him since my back was facing him, but I could clearly see his smirk in my head.   Prepare for a dirty joke.     "I'll be your daddy, Astrik. I'll spank you if I have to." I laugh, hitting my head against the rock in front of me.     "Why do you have to turn everything dirty?"   He moves around, pushing his leg in between mine, pressing his body against me.     "My job is to make you uncomfortable." He says, his warm breath blowing onto my neck. "Is it working?"     "Yes."     "Then move." He orders, gesturing towards the cliff just inches away.     "Bitch." I sigh, grabbing onto a piece of rock that stuck out of the cliff.     I've been called worse." He calls from the ground. I was about five feet off the ground by now. I never realized how easy it was to climb a life threatening cliff. It took me about twenty minutes to reach the top. When I got there, I was faced with a grinning Elliot.     "You son of a bitch."   He smiles. "You're the one that's being trained. I can cut corners if I want to." I roll my eyes. "I'm hungry. Let's go back to the house." He smiles, turning to look at the gigantic house.     "I'll race you." He challenges.     "What?"     "R-a-c-e, race. You know English, right?"     "I'm not stupid."     "Then lets race."     "I get done climbing a mountain and you're challenging me to a race?"     "Chicken."     "I am not."     "Then you're scared."     "Fine." I agree. "I'll run to the house and back before you get halfway there."   He smirks. "Fine. Go." And then we both take off running.   I may not have as much muscle as the others, but running was the only way I've ever survived in the forest. Needless to say, I can run a full sprint for thirty minutes, and I can jog all day.   I like running. The speed. The adrenaline. The wind flowing through your hair. The bone breaking pain you get the morning after you run for 5 hours straight. If I would play any sport, it'd be track. Or archery.     "Hey Astrik." Cassie says, running along beside me.     "What's up Cass?"   I could hear her faint gasps for air. "You're a fast runner. Where you going?"     "The house."     "Okay. Where's Elliot?"   Damn it Astrik don't turn around.     "Is he really that far back?"     "I don't see him at all."   I sigh, and turn my head to look behind me. She was right; Elliot was not in sight.     "Maybe he's-" And with that I tumbled to the ground.     "Ow!" I squeak, probably cracking my head open on the ground.     "That's what you get for being an ass." A familiar voice says from above me.   I jump to my feet, scowling at the grinning Elliot.     "Elliot!" I whine.   He puts on an innocent face. "What? I was just walking and you were in my way." Yeah, if slamming into me at full speed is walking.     "What're you gonna do about it?" He teased.     "Nothing." I say sweetly, sending a wall shattering punch into his crotch. He groans, dramatically falling onto the ground. I laugh, prancing away like a child.     "Damn you Astrik." He grunts.     "Get up, Elliot. There's no way that could hurt that bad." I sigh, rolling my eyes.     "You don't even want to know." I roll my eyes, kneeling down on the ground next to him.     "This is what you get for knocking me over." I smile, kissing his cheek.     "I hate you."     "I love you too." I smile, turning to walk into the house to change my clothes. It seems like all I've been doing today is getting wet.   I laugh, realizing how dirty that sounded. Damn you Elliot!     "Why does he always turn everything dirty? It's rubbing off on me." I think aloud, walking into my room. The TV was still on when I got in the room, still playing Supernatural reruns.   I sigh, stripping my clothes off and laying in what I suppose was my bed.         "Good morning Sleeping Beauty." Elliot teased, smirking at me from across the room. I didn't sleep through the entire day, did I?   He shakes his head, as if reading my mind. "It's late. You were sleeping for two hours." When did I even fall asleep? I don't remember ever falling asleep.     "You ready to go?" He asked me, throwing on his shirt. Go where exactly?     "Where?"     "My original plan was to teach you how to ride a bike, not take walks and swim with sharks." What kind of idiot doesn't know how to ride a bike? Maybe the old kind of bikes where you use foot pedals, but I'm pretty sure they won't go retro in the middle of the woods.     "Not a motor bike, a hover bike."   A hover bike? They were just starting to make those when the world ended. How do we have those now?     "We have scientists and engineers, you know."   If scientists and engineers make all of their stuff, then why do they hate them so much?     "So are you coming or not?"   I sigh, laying backdown on the mattress.     "Do I have a choice?"     "I want to make you feel like you do." He smirks. I don't want to leave this bed. It's like laying on a thousand fluffy clouds. Just the thought of me leaving this bear already makes my legs hurt.     "Get up or I'll get you up for you." He orders.     "Okay daddy." I say in a sarcastic little kids voice.   I get out of bed, my stomach aching from all the sugar I ate. It's just pie. No reason to get all shaken up from that.      "Fine." I agree, slipping out of bed and falling onto the floor.     "C'mon Astrik. At least put a shirt on."   Right. I sigh, slipping into a baggy shirt that was probably not mine.     "Why do I have to go now?" I whine, braiding my hair in the mirror.     "Because you didn't do it earlier." He retorts, mocking my whiny voice.   Damn you, Astrik.     "So if I do it now, I won't have to do anything else until tomorrow?"   He nods.     "Fine." I huff again. "Let's go."     "You're going the wrong way." He shouts.     "What do you mean 'you're going the wrong way'? I was just going to the door."   He shakes his head, walking over to a wall next to my bed.     "Our bikes are this way." He says, pushing the wall back to reveal a balcony.     "Are you serious? We're two floors off the ground, Elliot. We can't just jump."     "That's why we climb down, he says, gesturing towards two ropes and some kind of hook.   There's not even a door knob to open the door with. How am I supposed to get out there? Break the glass?   He smiles, once again reading my thoughts, and hands me an ashy black watch.     "What the hell is this for?" I wonder, slipping it onto my wrist.     "That's your PRC."   Why would I need a PRC? It's not like I'm going to the club or anything.     "Everyone at the Sarah Hilton gets a Personal Recognition Card to access certain things. Plus, it's your new phone, at least until we get you yours." Sarah Hilton? Was this once a hotel? That explains how big this place is.   Elliot pushes a button, and a blue tinted screen materialized in front of my face.     "You can make public calls, where anyone can hear you, or you can make "private" calls, which plays the call in your ear."     "But I don't have headphones."     "That's the best part, Astrik; you don't need any."   Honestly, how did we get that kind of technology? And in only two years?     "Projector phones already existed, so all we had to do was twist it into other things. We have rings, watches, mirrors, necklaces, whatever you want. I just got you the watch so we can be twins."     "Does this have wireless charging?"   He smiles. "It never dies unless it's broken." I wonder if they could make a bodysuit like ironman. Elliot rubs his chin in thought. "I might be able to make that happen. It'll take some time, though. I prefer D.C, by the way." Did I say that out loud? "Yes, you said that out loud. I'm pretty sure that I could get you something to turn you into ironman, though." Lord. Why have you blessed us with such wonderful technology after most of the world died? It has been my childhood dream to be ironman.     "So, how do we get the door open?" I ask, fiddling with the watch as if it were some alien object that I've never seen before. Well, it kind of was.   He swings his arm in a small circle, causing the glass to split open with a long, high pitched beep.     "After you." He smirks with a mocking bow.     I walk through the door, peeking over the edge of the rail. Elliot was right; there were two dark green motorcycles parked under every window.     "And we get down there how, exactly?"   He laughs, lifting a leg over the rail and jumping off. He landed in the air where the floor would be.     "It's an elevator." He says, laughing at the puzzled look on my face. That explains it. I jump over the rail, my fear of falling in full swing.     "That's right; you're scared of heights." He smirks, reading my face. "Just hold onto me. If you fall, then I fall with you." I didn't waste any time latching my hand into his with a death grip.   The ground beneath me falls, making me quake in fear and sending Elliot into hysterics.     "You're really that scared? We're just going down, Astrik."     "Yeah. I'll laugh when you're scared, how bout that?" He sighs, rolling his eyes. "That trend is so old."     "Don't throw shade if you can't catch hands." I smile, walking off of the invisible chunk of floor.     "Oh, I can catch your hands. You're weaker than a crusty flower." He retorts, sliding onto his bike, flicking a switch. I watched in awe as the motorcycle looking thing whirred to life, the giant bowl-like things on the bottom lighting up as they almost silently drifted into the air.     "What happened to the wheels? And the obnoxiously loud engine?" I wonder aloud.     "I don't know, Astrik. I didn't make it."   Once again, technology made from the people my people hate so much.     "C'mon Astrik. It's not like it's gonna bite you or anything." I grab onto the handlebars, heaving myself onto the bulky thing. "What do I do now?" "Scan your watch on that pad over there, then flick that switch and press right there." I never was good at seeing what people were pointing at, but since there was only a black pad, a switch, and a button, I knew what I was supposed to do. The vehicle came to life with a beep, click, and soft purr. In front of me, a hand plopped a helmet onto my head and adjusted it perfectly. "And just push that button on your right." Elliot instructs. I run a blind hand over the slick surface of the helmet, stopping at the slight bulge on the surface. I pushed it, and a giant screen materialized in front of me, the same shade of blue as the screen on the watch.   I turn to look at Elliot in awe and say, "do you see this?" He smiles his usual almost cheeky grin. "No I don't see it, but I know what you're talking about."     "What do I do? There's no pedals." I ask. In front of me, I see what looks like a copy of a manual page. The picture looked sharp, as if I was seeing it with my own eyes and not through a screen.     "It's connected to your mind. Just tell it what you want it to do." Could you turn me into ironman?     "I am sorry. I am not capable of 'could you turn me into ironman.' Please wait until the next model arrives." A robotic voice says. It kind of sounded like Siri, just less choppy and more fluid.  The driving part of this isn't mental, is it? "No," it says. "You just tell me when to give you the pedals." Could this thing just hurry up and drive?   I shouldn't have said that; in a matter of seconds, I was halfway across the mile long yard.     "Stop!" I yell, causing the car to screech to a stop, sending me flying over the handlebars.     "What're you doing, kid? Those bikes are for emergencies only." Someone says in an agitated tone.   Elliot's bike comes to a stop next to me.     "Hey Tyler, what's up?" He greets, sending the dude a weird and complicated bro shake.     "Keep your friend on her bike and teach her how to drive." He jokes, sending a death glare in my direction.   Oh crap. This is the guy that saved my life three times in one hour this morning. Nice way to make a good second impression.     "Sorry. I don't really know how to control it yet." I sigh, removing the big helmet. I watch his eyes soften for a second, then narrowing into tiny slits.     "Hey, you're that girl from this morning." He states, recognizing me.     "Yup." I sigh, standing to my feet. Even standing up straight, I was more than a head shorter than Tyler and stood to Elliot's nose.     "You guys know each other?" Elliot questions, looking between Tyler, which stared at me with a stone cold glare, and me, who tried her best to avoid it.     "He saved my life twice today." I state, my head throbbing at the memory of me cracking my head on the ground.     "Three times." Tyler adds.     "Well, if you want to, Tyler, you can teach her to drive. I have to do a thing." Elliot offers. I look at him with pleading eyes, hoping that Tyler would say no. This guy rubs me wrong.     "What thing of yours is valuable enough to waste my time?"     "I have a thing." Elliot repeats.     "A thing?"     "A thing." Elliot confirms, giving him a look I've never seen before.   The man sighs. "Fine. If it's that important, I'll watch your kid today." Elliot smiles, slaps his chest, and throws up a peace sign, walking away.     "I'm not supposed to deal with you until tomorrow, so I'll let you go." Tyler says, shifting his gaze back down at me.   Something about him makes me uncomfortable. He looks like a pretty good person; tall, muscular, a pretty sharp jawline, but there's something with his tallness, masculinity, good looks, and stone cold face that just makes me want to cower in fear.     "Okay." I manage to whisper, swallowing the lump in my throat. What in hell am I supposed to do now? You could start with the bikes, Sherlock.     "I have to put these bikes back." I say in a more normal tone, sliding back onto mine.     "If you're out of range, it'll go back to your room on its own." He says, waving a dismissive hand at me.     "Okay. When's dinner?" I ask, gesturing towards the setting sun.   It had to be at least four o'clock; winter in North America, the sun comes up late and sets early. It had to be at least 5:30 for the sky to be this color.     "Oh yeah, dinners ready." He says, ten feet away from me now.   I sigh, walking back towards the house, standing on the porch to watch the bikes float back behind the house.   I feel a vibration on my right arm where my watch was. Pressing the on button, I see a notification announcing dinner. So I guess they did have a clock on them. "Why are you standing there like that?" Another familiar voice says from the doorway. I look up, smiling at the brown haired girl in front of me.     "Hey, Cass."     "You better hurry your ass inside, Astrik. It gets cold during the night." She scolds. I used to live in this "cold." I can handle twenty degrees.     "Where'd Elliot go?" I wonder aloud.     "He's inside somewhere. I think I saw him talking to some nerd." I nod, stepping inside. There goes the jock-nerd hate again.   Funny how I relate it to basic high schoolers, when the world we live in now is far from it.     "I bet you're hungry, aren't you?" She asks me with a smile. Hungry is the last thing I am. I've been feeding off a pigeon for a whole week. That pancake I had this morning and the pie I had this afternoon have my stomach still full. Just the sight of food makes my stomach ache. I guess I've developed a kind of anorexia. Great. Another illness to add to my resumé.     "Not really."   She gives me a sympathetic look. "You're still used to your forest diet." I nod, standing in line.     "So how was your day? Is Elliot treating you okay?" Damn it, Cassie. You're worse than what my mother used to be.     "He's good." I smile. Except for his dirty jokes, pushing me off a cliff, making me climb back up the cliff, and ditching me during my pre-training, he's totally fine.     "He pushed you off the cliff, too?" She laughs, slapping her knee. "He did that to me on my first day here. He pinned me against the cliff and whispered dirty jokes into my ear until I climbed up the cliff for him."     "Well, he said 'my job is to make you uncomfortable. Is it working?' to me." She lets out a laughing sigh. "Oh, that's ol' Ellie right there." I shriek, something tackling me from behind and wrapping their arms around my waist.     "Elliot! I told you to stop running me over!" I groan.     "I'm sorry, Assie. I'm just sooo happy!" He squeaks, hugging me tighter.      "About what?"   He grabs my hand, leading me outside towards the cliff.     "I've been planning for this moment ever since ten minutes ago." He beams, leading me towards the lake by the cliff.   How the place was already decorated with flowers, I don't know, but it was a beautiful sight with the flowers on the ground, the fireflies in the air, and the pink sky.     "Astrik Marianne Gillian." He smiles, lowering onto one knee, holding my hand in the vanishing sunlight.   My heart is racing right now. My palms are sweating, even in the late twenty degree weather, and my teeth are so far into my lips they might bleed sometime soon. Don't you love anxiety?     "What I am about to show you is going to effect the future. The future of us, the future of you, the future of technology. What I am about to give you will be so entirely special; this is not only a gift, it's the future of everything." What in hell is he talking about?     "Astrik. Do you choose to accept this gift of your future, and promise me you'll never give it up, no matter what the consequences?" I swear to Jesus, if this is a marriage proposal, I'm pushing him off this cliff.   I watch as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small diamond ring.     "I couldn't give you the suit itself, so I gave you a ring with the same kind of powers in it." He explains, grabbing my arm and making it hover atop the other. Seconds later, a faint beep rang out, and small metallic parts came out of it, engulfing my entire body. 'Welcome. I am Jarvis ready to assist you.' A voice said through some invisible earpiece. Tears sting my eyes, my metal bodysuit retreating back into the ring that still sat in his hand. Sliding the ring onto my finger, he stands up and kisses me full on the lips, cupping my face in his hands. My childhood dream was to be ironman, and here Elliot is, making it come true. I mean, it came complete with Jarvis and everything!     "And promise me that you'll remember me no matter how far apart we are for any amount of time." I nod, swallowing the lump in my throats and letting my tears roam free.     "Elliot did what?!"     "No way!"     "That's impossible!"     "Can you make one for me, Elliot?"   Elliot smiles. "Sorry guys. I only got one from Jake."    "Tell that Jake kid to make me one, too, then." Damien says, stuffing his mouth with pizza.     "Can I try it on, Astrik?" Julia asks me, holding out her hand.  I shrug, pressing the ring into her palm. She slips it on her finger, sweeping her watch over it like I did. It beeped three times, then slipped off her finger and fell onto the floor. I turn to my vibrating watch, realizing that I just got notified that my ring was gone and where it was on the map.     "This is so cool." I say in awe, ignoring the complaining Julia. Apparently my ring was fused to the floor and wouldn't budge. Pressing the button on the screen, I outstretched my hand like the watch instructed, and the ring flew into my hand.     "So what are you? Ironman fused with Thor?"     "Precisely." Someone says from behind me. "I would've added more abilities from the Marvel and D.C. characters, but I had to submit what I already had. There will be updates coming soon, though." Hot damn. This kid is gorgeous. His shaggy brown hair fell down in little spikey chunks around his perfectly symmetrical face, complimenting his golden pancake colored skin and dark walnut eyes. His teeth were pearly white and perfectly straight, too.     "Who are you?" Someone pipes up.   He smiles, showing off his beautiful white teeth. "I'm Jake Ballard; Marvel-D.C. fan, creator of those watches you're wearing, and most importantly, I was the creator of that ring."   Who knew that such a beautiful ring came from such a beautiful person?     "By the way, you owe me, bro." He says to Elliot. I thought that the "nerds" were antsy kids with glasses, not jaw dropping supermodels with impeccable taste in jewelry and comic book characters.     "I was working on adding in the Phoenix to the powers of the ring, but telekinetic powers are kind of hard to control. Are you sure you want to obtain those powers?" Everyone turns to look at me.     "Well, it can't be that bad, can it? It'd be pretty cool to have telekinesis."     "You don't understand." He says, jumping over the couch to sit in the empty spot next to me. "Having telekinesis is a very dangerous thing. If you can't control it, or even if you simply get more power than you can handle, it could corrupt you or even kill you." "Okay. Why don't you just give me a fourth of the power now and give me another in a week?"     "Two."     "Deal." I agree, laying back against Elliot.     "I'm not done, Princess." The kid sighs. "I want to talk about the other characters I want to put in your ring."   I wave a dismissive hand towards to group, letting them have their own conversation instead of listening to mine.     "Could you add Wolverine, too?" I ask, sitting back up.   He nods. "I can get you anything you want. All I need is something in return."     "I don't have anything. I just started coming here today."     "Well, maybe your boyfriend has something to give me." He says, gesturing towards Elliot.   I laugh. "Elliot isn't my boyfriend, you idiot. We're just friends."     "Yeah, with benefits, apparently." He muttered, rubbing his perfect chin. "Anyway, meet me in my office tomorrow for lunch. Here's my card. You can come in any time." He says, reaching into his pocket to pull out a glossy rectangle of some glass-like object. I hold the card in my hand, inspecting the blue tinted glass he handed to me. I have no idea what this is, but I think it's kinda cool. "Okay. Thanks." I smile.   The corner of his mouth turns up, his creaseless face twisting into a lopsided smirk. "I almost forgot." He added, taking the ring off my finger. "What're you doing?" He looks up at me with his beautiful coffee eyes. "Just watch." He reassures, twisting the square rock on his finger, pressing buttons on his watch. I watch as the metal crawls up his arms, stopping at the shoulders. "Jarvis, engage battle mode." He says, as if he were wearing the headpiece, too. My eyes widen to impossible sizes. Protruding from the top of his arm, tiny things, what I could only guess launched grenades or bullets, came out. Something formed on his back, which seemed to be a large rifle. A glassy compartment revealed three types of guns and one bullet sack. Best of all, little circles formed on his hand, which if he wanted to, would blast through titanium on the first shot. "Of course, you can add more settings and take some off." He says, the metal arms shrinking back into the ring. "I'm working on using Captain America's shield on command, too." "I shake my head. Captain America is below Ironman. I don't want his shield of my suit, but make you could make a force field-like feature?" Slapping the ring back into my hand, he smiles at me. "You have great ideas, kid, but I'm not a God. That's gonna take some time, but I'll try just for you."   You may not be a god, but you sure look like one. "How old are you anyway?" I wonder. "Such a big brain doesn't usually come with such a pretty face." I did not just say that. He laughs. "I'm nineteen. But you'll see my 'pretty face' for a long time. I've already preserved my body; I'll live for hundreds of years to come." "You can do that?" I gasp, eyes wide with wonder. He taps his watch. "Fortunately, yes. Unfortunately, I'm running out of time. You can call me later and I'll discuss it further. What's your name again? Ashtray? Astron?" "It's Astrik." I correct. He stands up, tipping his imaginary hat at me. "Chao, Astrik." Did he have a British accent the whole time or was that fake? I'll ask later.     "Ooh, Astrik's going on a date with pretty boy." Tana cooes.   Typing in his PRC number, I blush behind the screen. "It's not a date." I don't know if I said that to reassure her or me. "Anyway." I laugh, changing the subject. "Keep talking. I want to join your conversation." "We were talking about you, Astrik." The girl named Dekka said bluntly. Well. Aren't you nice? "How come nobody could use the ring except you and that Jake kid?" I shrug. "Guess it's just the way he made it."     "Julia, Tyler, Tana, Damien, Dekka, Charlie, Brianna, Gabe, Jessica, Hailey. I think I'm gonna go hit the sack now." I sigh, ready to talk about some more Marvel-DC characters with Jake. How could you blame me? Marvel is one of the few things that still exist from my past.     "Shut up Astrik. We all know that you want to play with your new toy and talk to your new friend about weird nerd stuff." Brianna smiles. Marvel is not weird nerd stuff.     "Yeah. To hell with us." Charlie laughs.     "Do me a favor, Astrik?" Tana asks me.     "What?"     "Get some!" She shouts, way too loudly. I shake my head, walking away.     "You need some help with that?" Elliot asks me rhetorically, grabbing my arm and punching in Jake's PRC.     "I can't believe you like a nerd." He says disapprovingly, shaking his head. He's not just a nerd, he's a beautiful nerd with impeccable taste in comic book characters and jewelry.     "I'm picking out your outfit for your date tomorrow." He smiles.     "Like you know anything about fashion."     "Yeah. That's kind of the point, Astrik; so your clothes scare him off before I end up taking care of your kids."     "That sounds like something someone's dad would say."     "I guess I'm your dad for the next 24 hours, then." I shake my head, raising a dismissive finger as a blue tinted screen popped in front of me.     "This is Specialist Jake Ballard, who's this?" Jake says, his pancake colored face appearing in front of me.     "Close your mouth, I think you're drooling." Elliot whispers into my ear. Drooling was an understatement. The beautiful pancake colored boy was laying on his bed, his white flannel removed so I could see his bare shoulders and chest.     "This is Astrik." I reply, rolling my eyes at Elliot's tease.   His eyes shrink into clits, a lopsided grin covering his face.     "Oh, right, the iron princess." Maybe I should carry that name; Iron Princess.     "I'm ready to talk about the characters you'll put in my suit."     "Sorry, kid." The prodigy smiles. "But that is reserved for tomorrow."   Elliot pokes his head in. "You take care of my baby, Jake. If you hurt her, I'll catch you outside."     "Elliot!" I screech, shoving him into the door. "I'm not a baby, I'm seventeen!"     "You'll always be a baby to me until you get to be my age, and that won't happen because we'll always be five years apart."     "Uh, guys? Hate to interrupt your father-daughter, boyfriend-girlfriend, old man-young girl drama, but do you guys mind?" Jake says, a joking glint in his eye.     "I want to learn more about you, Astrik." He continues.   Elliot pokes his head back in, making a weird sound. "Wrong answer!"   Jake's eyes widen, the smirk vanishing from his face.     "I didn't mean like that! I just wanted to run a couple tests on her and see how much power she can handle."     "I'm sorry." I sigh, my cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. "I'll get rid of him."   Pressing the mute button, I turn to Elliot and say, "do you mind? Can I just talk to a boy without you jumping on me?"     "No."     " I swear to Jesus, Elliot. If you don't keep your head out of my business, I will cut your balls off and feed them to you."     "I can still lip read, you know." Jake says, another smirk plastered on his face. "Now I kind of regret it. I so didn't need to hear that." Jesus, Mary and Joseph.     "I'm sorry, Jake." I smile, jumping onto my soft bed. "What were you saying?"     "I was saying that I wanted to run tests on you. I need to know how much of The Phoenix you can handle."   I shrug. "Sure. What else?"     "Make sure to wear something that can be easily removed. You won't be wearing your clothes and I need as much time as I can get."   Elliot bangs his fist on his nightstand.     "Why don't I just come naked, then?" I joke.     "Because I don't think your friend over there would let you. My goal in life is to not get my balls cut off and fed to me by a girls pissed off, overprotective best friend. Plus, I don't think you'd want to do that, either."   I roll my eyes. "Anything else?"   He nods. "You like coffee, right?"   I shrug. "I've never tried it."   He smiles. "Well, let me be the first to introduce you to it, then." Funny. Elliot said that exact same line to me at breakfast this morning.     "And I'd like to take you out for dinner, too." He adds. So you want me for coffee at breakfast, an interview at lunch, and a date at dinner?     "Are you asking me out?" I wonder aloud.   He smiles. "I am. I happened to notice that you've taken a liking for me. I wish to return the favor." Well, at least he's honest, no matter how blunt.     "Okay. Sure." I agree, beaming.     "Chao, Princess." He says, ending the conversation. I shriek, bouncing on my bed.     "I got a date, I got a date!" I shout, now jumping on the floor beside Elliot's bed.   He mimics my burst, squealing a high pitch squeak, bouncing up and down on his bed.     "That's my girl." He says, wrapping his arms around me.      "Sorry I'll be gone for most of the day tomorrow."      "Girl, if it makes you happy, I don't even care. I've lived without you for my whole life. I think I can go a day." I nod, flopping back onto my bed.     "He said he'd take me out for dinner. Where exactly is out?" I wonder aloud, pulling my shirt over my head.   Elliot shrugs, pulling off his shirt and sliding into bed.     "And he'd take me for coffee. Wouldn't that be brunch, then?"     "It's only brunch if you eat food." He replies, clapping the lights off.     "Ooh, clap on lights. I wonder if Jake made those."     "Astrik." He sighs, slightly irritated.     "Sorry." I wonder if these watches were his idea, too. I flinch, a loud rumble filling the room.   I turn on my side to see a sleeping Elliot, mouth wide open. I'm such a slut. It's my first day here, and I already kissed Elliot like, what, twice? Then I jump at the first boy my age. I'm shaking my head at you, Astrik. I don't care how slutty I am. What matters most is that I have my first date in my whole life tomorrow. If only Beatrice was here to see me now.   A soft whimper comes from across the room. I look over at his bed again to see a sleeping Elliot tossing at turning, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.     "You okay Elliot?" I say, getting out of bed. I cross the six feet of space between our beds, resting a hand on his forehead. He was a perfect temperature, so he couldn't be sick. That left only one other thing; nightmares and anxiety. I grab onto his shoulder, shaking it. That only made his pants heavier and made him thrash around more.     "Elliot! Goddamn it Elliot, wake up!" I shout, now straddling his stomach, shaking his shoulders. I sigh, rubbing my hands together and slapping my hand against his twitching face.     "Fuck!" He screams, his eyes flashing open.     "Are you okay? You just started screaming and shaking and-"     "I'm fine." He lies, pushing me aside and resting on the headboard.     "No you're not. Elliot, what's wrong."     "The shadows."     "What?"     "The shadows." He repeats.     "What are shadows, you want me to turn the TV off?"     "I'm scared of the dark." He mumbles, his head hung low in shame.   I laugh. "You're scared of the dark? Seriously Elliot, you need to grow up."     "I'm not scared of the dark, I'm scared of what used to be in it."   I furrow my eyebrows together. "I don't get it. What used to be in the dark?"     "Defaro's shadow creatures." He explains, running his hand through his wet hair.   Defaro. That sounds familiar. Like the person that cornered me in the woods with a bunch of red eyed shape shifters.     "Defaro used to use his shadow creatures. They would possess you shadow and murder you in your sleep. Sometimes they just come out of the ground." Hmm. Sounds interesting.     "They just turn into a person and look at you in your reflection sometimes, too. They pop out of mirrors and they grab you, showing off their bright teeth. Then they pounce on you, ripping and tearing at your flesh until-"     "Okay. I get the picture. So do you want me to turn the light on or what?"   He claps his hands, the lights coming on at a much lower brightness than before.     "Okay. You you need anything? Do you want to sleep in mommy's bed tonight?" I joke.   He nods, engulfing me in a weak hug. Oh God. Don't start lusting again. Lust is one of the seven deadly sins, Astrik, don't do it. I plant a kiss on his neck, laying a quick peck on his cheek, then finally his lips.   Seven deadly sins! Seven deadly sins! I peck at his lips three more times before moving latching my lips onto his and kissing him with as much lust a teenage girl could have. He didn't back away. He leaned on me, pushing me so that my back was on the mattress and he was straddling me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, pushing my fingers through his sweat coated hair, I feel something bubble up in my stomach.   Uttering a string of profanities, I run into the bathroom, emptying more than half of my dinner into the toilet. Damn you Cass for shoving ten servings of food down my throat. Emerging from the bathroom about ten minutes later, I walk over to Elliot's bed to see if he was sleeping. Since he was, I pulled the blanket over his shoulders and kissed his forehead, as if I was the mother and he was the son.   Then, I climbed into my bed, drifting off into my own slumbers. Saved by the bell. Teaser; Astrik's first date. Will it go great or terrible? Like, comment, and share! ~A