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schrijverr · 3 years

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'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 4 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: brief mentions of death

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

Chapter 4: Cornflowers Means ‘Delicacy’

Thomas felt as if he’d gotten Martha’s blessing to pursue Alex. He had wanted to before, but he’d felt guilty towards her, so instead he had riled the other up and argued with him.

But now…

With their tentative friendship evolving every day, the sudden email reminding him to keep living seemed like a sign. Maybe that was stupid, but Thomas was going to cling to it. Though he had to figure out how to work up the courage to flirt first.

He was absolutely hopeless at the whole thing. He’d started bribing Alex with food, making sure the other ate lunch everyday as a way in.

It was a slow process, but yesterday Alex had shown up at his office with a bag with two bagels in it when Thomas had gotten lost in his work and forgotten the time. He’d shrugged: “Seemed only fair to chip in myself for a change.”

Instead of using it as a way to thank him or something, Thomas had made a joke about Alex finally stopping with mooching off him, which had only earned him a small shove, before they had started an argument about the usefulness of the hole in the middle of a bagel.

Thomas was close to ripping his hair out in frustration.

Martha had flirted with him, he had never done this. He had no clue what he should be doing and James was absolutely no help. When he had asked him the man had simply said: “Too aroace, Tom.”

So now he was going to the one other person who could help him with this, but by God did he dread it.

“Hi, Thomas, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello, Angie,” he replied, holding up a bottle of red wine, “Can I embarrass myself again and have you tell me I’m stupid before helping me?”

Angelica grinned: “With love. Here, come in.”

Thomas came in and dropped the wine on the kitchen counter of her apartment, before throwing himself on the couch with a groan. That earned him an eyeroll from Angelica, who poured them both a glass of wine, before pushing his legs of the couch and sitting down.

“Pizza and a romcom?” she asked, phone already in hand.

“Yeah, let’s be fully trashy,” Thomas agreed.

“You love trashy.”

“I truly do.”

Angelica ordered the pizza and waited for Thomas to leave behind the shelter of a pillow. He finally did and took a large gulp of his wine, before he said: “I don’t know how to flirt.”

“What?” out of all the things, Angelica had not seen that coming, but the realization hit her: “Oh my God are you trying to shoot your shot with Alex?”

“Maybe?” his voice was unsure and small and Angelica was living.

“Are you for real?” she exclaimed, “Tell me everything! Leave out no details. Holy fuck, this is great.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said miserably.

“You can’t just ask me about advise to flirt with a guy, whom you’ve been crushing on for years while claiming you were never going to go after it and expect me to not get excited about it, Thomas. I mean come on, what changed?”

“I mean, me and Alex are kind of friends now and then-” he hesitated, unsure if he wanted to tell Angelica about the email from Martha, “then I got a reminder- it’s a long story.”

“Tell me,” Angelica demanded.

“You remember Alex brought Philip with him to work?” Thomas began.

“Yeah, that was four months ago, though.”

“Well, me and Alex talked and I told him about Martha, because Philip had told me about John, remember that?” he asked.

Angelica nodded.

“He called me,” Thomas went on, “It was John’s birthday and he was struggling and I had told him he could always talk to me and stuff, so he did. We bought Philip a Halloween costume and then we went to John’s grave so that he could show it to him.”

“Oh shit,” Angelica took a big gulp of her wine, “That’s a lot heavier than I was expecting, sorry. I didn’t know that part, he told us he handled John’s birthday well.”

“I mean, he did, sort off,” Thomas said, “Don’t let him know you know, I don’t know if he wanted me to tell you. But in the end it was a good day.”

“John loved Halloween.”

“Thought so, Alex mentioned Philip getting excited about his costume,” Thomas told her.

Angelica cringed in sympathy.

“Anyway, we spend John’s birthday together and after that it was different in the office and stuff and I brought him lunch-”

“You brought him lunch!”

“He had forgotten, what was I supposed to do? Was that weird?” Thomas sounded scared, Alex hadn’t seem to mind and he did it after. WouldAlex be mad at him?

“No, no, not bad,” Angelica quickly assured him, “Just sweet.”

“Then why did you react like that?” Thomas hissed, stress outing itself.

“Because I haven’t seen Alex eat in break room since forever,” Angelica replied, “He deflects every time I asked, we were already planning an intervention or something.”

“Oh,” Thomas didn’t know what to say to that, “Well, you don’t, he’s been eating fine.”

“Thank God for that, Eliza can be scary.”

Thomas huffed out a laugh at that, before proceeding: “So, I brought him lunch and he thanked me and said that I could call him if needed too.”

“How precious.”

“So I did,” Thomas decided that after sharing about John’s birthday to Angelica it would only be fair to tell her about himself as well, “Because Martha had send me an email – it was a site thing, send emails to the future and stuff – and, well, that was an unexpected punch to the gut.”

“Are you okay, Tommy?” Angelica’s brows were concerned, “I didn’t hear you about it.”

“It’s fine, Angie,” he assured her, “Me and Alex watched movies all day and just reminisced about her, it was nice. But in the email, Martha told me to move on from her.”

“She knows you too well,” Angelica smiled softly, she had known Martha herself and had seen first hand how devastated Thomas was after her death.

“Yeah, so that’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past few months, but I. Can’t. Flirt,” he fell back dramatically once more.

“God, you’re hopeless,” Angelica said, “Luckily I am here to save you, I am the best wingwoman known to man.”

“I hope you’re right, because being friends with Alex is killing me. Do you know how cute that motherfucker can be?” Thomas told her, “He has these big ass smiles and these little giggles and they are designed to kill me.”

Angelica smiled fondly, slight hurt in her eyes as a different person with the same complaints flashed in front of her eyes.

The bell rang and Angelica quickly got their pizzas before she sat down to form a game plan, which she privately named ‘Plan Jamilton’.

“Okay, so first up, what is a regular day with Alex like? So an office day, but then I don’t have to hear about your boring meetings unless Alex is involved,” she asked.

“I get in, he’s usually in the break room getting coffee, we talk – well, argue, but not mean – about whatever, we work, we eat lunch, then work some more, then I tell him to home if it’s not Tuesday or Friday, because he goes home earlier on those day, because he has to get Philip from school,” Thomas listed, then shrugged: “Meetings are still the same.”

“Huh, is that why I couldn't find him last Tuesday?”

“Yeah, normally Philip gets picked up by one of his Aunts or Un- you know that, sorry,” Thomas cut himself off.

“I know the others pick Philip up from time to time and that Alex hires a babysitter, I didn’t know there was a pattern,” Angelica confessed, “I’m more the fun Aunt that shows up from time to time with presents, Eliza is more the overly involved Aunt, but that’s fair since Philip was in her for nine months.”

“Touche.”

“Anyways, you and Alex seem to talk a few times during the day. Morning and lunch and before he goes home, all good opportunities,” she suggested.

“I’m aware, but then I’d have to know what to say, don’t I, Angie,” Thomas pointed out.

“Alex is a natural flirter, give him a push and he’ll do most of the work.”

“But then what do I do? How do I react to him flirting? That’ll be bad for my soul,” Thomas whined.

“Think of it like banter, you two do it all the time,” Angelica rolled her eyes, “Just maybe make it a bit more suggestive here and there, add innuendos. I think you can manage that.”

“And what if Alex thinks it’s weird or if he’s just doing it because he’s flirty?” Thomas worried, “I mean, you said it yourself that he’s naturally flirty, what if he doesn’t think anything of it and then I am the weird one and he hates me.”

“He’s not going to hate you, you idiot,” Angelica rolled her eyes, “He likes you.”

“What? How do you know that?” Thomas needed answers and he needed them now.

“Technically, I don’t, but-”

“Then you have no ground to stand on and I shouldn’t risk it.”

“Let me talk, Thomas Jefferson,” the full name shut him up, “As I wanted to say: Technically, I don’t know for sure if he likes you, but he has stopped complaining about you and last week he said you might have shit ideas on company policy, but you had great taste in classical writers. He loves classical writers. That’s huge for him.”

“That’s hardly anything, Angie.”

“And Laf asked me what was up between you two,” Angelica played her ace.

“Laf thinks there is something up between us two?” Thomas took the bait as predicted, hopeful puppy eyes that shouldn’t be adorable on a 6’3, grown man.

“Yeah, he said – and I quote – Hm, did you notice anything off between mon petit lionand our dear Thomas, those two seems to be getting closer,non?”

“Your French accent is horrible.”

“Not the focus, Tommy. The focus is that he wiggled his brows about it.”

“He wiggled his brows?”

“Yes, he only does that if he is super certain of his observations or if he knows something. I’m still figuring out which one it is,” Angelica informed him.

“So maybe Alex said something to him?” Thomas suggested.

“Maybe, but you’d have to ask him.”

“I’m not going to ask him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is a nosy Frenchman, who doesn’t know when to stop meddling and he’ll embarrass me in front of Alex, I’m sure of it,” Thomas whined.

“He’s not that bad, Thomas. Get over yourself,” Angelica told him, taking a bite out of her pizza slice.

“No, one time I told him I was considering celebrating my birthday and he threw me a huge surprise party – granted, it was sweet of him, but also no, not for me – with like a live band and stuff. It was way too much.”

“Okay, so maybe not ask Laf directly,” Angelica conceded.

Thomas eyes suddenly lit up with inspiration and he exclaimed: “You could ask him!”

“No!” Angelica protested immediately.

“Why not?” Thomas was pleading now, “For me.”

“Because then he’ll know for suresomething is up and talk to either you or Alex and then your whole plan will still be ruined,” Angelica explained, “You just need to trust me and flirt with Alex. I swear it will be fine.”

“But what if it isn’t?”

“Then I’ll get you ice cream and chew out Alex,” she promised.

“I hate it when you make a point,” Thomas complained.

“And I hate eating without playing a movie, we both make sacrifices,” Angelica rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed as she took another bite of her pizza, almost as if to make a point.

In the end they did watch a movie. It was a shitty romcom, as promised, and every time someone flirted Angelica rated it and advised for or against the method. Thomas wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle or hug her.

He still didn’t say anything for almost a week and a half, until he found himself in the printer room with Alex.

“Honestly, Thomas, you can’t possibly think that saying a cloud and rain are the same makes any sense,” Alex rolled his eyes, pushing some buttons on the printer.

“No, just think about it, okay? Clouds are water, rain is also water, correct?” Alex grudgingly agreed, “A cloud is basically water floating around until it gets cold and falls, so therefore rain is basically just a cloud falling.”

Alex paused, processing his words, before he said: “Oh my God, shut up.”

“Make me,” Thomas had been so caught up about winning their argument that he hadn’t even thought before letting the slightly suggestive words slip out.

Now they both paused. Thomas looked shocked at his own words and Alex studied him curiously, his eyes scanning him up and down, before he smirked and asked: “Is that a threat or a promise, Tommy? Because you really shouldn’t say things you can’t deliver on.”

Then he grabbed his papers and left Thomas gaping like a fish on dry land as he tried to process the entire interaction.

Alex was internally panicking as he hightailed out of the room, hoping to leave Thomas before the man had gathered his wits again. Sure, Thomas might have started it, but Alex had taken it a level further.

He’d wanted to flirt with Thomas, but they only just started to be friendly. Well, maybe not just, but it wasn’t as if they had stopped being rivals that long ago.

It was just…

It was just that Philip had really liked Thomas, he was still sometimes asking about how Mr. Thomas was doing. And the man had done so much for him on John’s birthday. And he had looked so vulnerable with the email and Alex had never seen that side of him and his stupid crush was developing at an alarming rate. And he didn’t want to acknowledge it or make it real, but…

Butnow he might have made it weird.

Fuck, what was he going to do? Oh, wait, Eliza was picking up Philip today – normally he would do it, but school ended early that day so Eliza had offered – and it was after lunch, so he wouldn’t see Thomas today and he could talk to her and have a plan tomorrow.

With that in mind, he tried to forget about the whole incident and work till the end of the day, losing himself in his work and hoping he wouldn’t run into Thomas.

He left at five on the dot and at half past five he was knocking on Eliza’s door. She opened, but before she could say anything he blurted out: “I flirted with Thomas today. I think he started it, but now I’m thinking it might have been me.”

She blinked, then blinked again, before she pulled him into the house: “Tell me everything. Is this the great Mr. Thomas Philip was telling me about? The one you’ve been crushing on and didn’t tell me and I had to hear about from Herc?”

“Maybe?” he squeaked.

He and Philip ended up eating dinner with her and Maria and afterwards Maria watched a movie with Philip, sending them a knowing look that made Alex blush.

Alex had known Eliza since Freshman year in college. He and her had hit it off right away, even dated for a while, but then John had taken a break from the army to study and- well, they just found they were only dating to prove something to themselves.

The point was Alex told Eliza everything. She’d been the first to know he fancied John, had helped him pick an outfit for their first date, had been there for ring shopping and wedding planning. She had carried Philip for nine months for Pete’s sake.

Yet he had hesitated with telling her about Thomas.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but if he told her it would be real, because telling her made it real and he was scared of this being real.

But now it was going to be real.

It was going to be real because Thomas had said something slightly suggestive and Alex had taken that as a sign to blatantly flirt with the man. It was going to be real, because he was going to tell Eliza.

Fuck.

He started up slowly, hesitating about certain parts, what to say and what not, but in the end the words started to flow out of him like they always did.

Alex told Eliza about how he’d thought Thomas was attractive, but had pushed that down with the personality, but then he’d been nice to Philip and that had stirred something inside him again. He told her about John’s birthday, the endless jokey lunch discussions, Martha’s email, how he the feelings had been building up until he had blurted out his comment that day.

All throughout Eliza just listened and nodded along until his word vomit session was over and he just sat there and breathed.

“It sounds to me,” she began carefully, “like you really like Thomas and that he is a good influence on you. And if I understood correctly, he has proven himself to be willingly involved with Pip. He sounds like a catch, ‘Lexi.”

“He is,” Alex sighed with a smile, then slightly sadder he added, “I just don’t know what to do. I might have scared him off today.”

“Come on, don’t be so deprecating. I knew you in college, you can woo him,” Eliza encouraged him teasingly.

“Wow, thanks, ‘Liza,” he huffed.

“I’m serious, ‘Lexi. You can flirt and you know it, you’re a charmer if you want to be, when you’re not, you know, forcing people to have opinions they need to defend,” she said, “Though, Thomas already knows that, since-” she gestured vaguely, “since you two do that.”

Alex laughed at that, before he turned more serious: “What if I fuck this up, Betsy? What if I do something wrong? What if Pip gets hurt by this? I don’t know how I’d live with myself if this hurts him.”

He only called her Betsy if he was really worried about something.

“Hey, Alexander, look at me,” if he was calling her Betsy, she was pulling out full names, “You’re not going to fuck this up, you just need to be patient for a moment.”

“Have you been hanging around Burr?” Alex groaned.

Eliza rolled her eyes at him: “No and just because you don’t agree with someone doesn’t mean they can’t have a point.”

“He should have points, ‘Liza, that’s the entire point,” Alex told her.

“I am not having this discussion with you right now, we were focusing on something else,” she knew deflection when she saw it, “We were talking about Thomas and you wooing him.”

“What? Do you have a battle plan or something?”

“Of course I have.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”

“You could stand to mention it more,” she smiled, “Now, you are flirty, which is great everyone will say that you are. He knows Laf, he’ll ask if he’s curious and Laf is how we keep tabs on him. Trust me, he will come talking if Thomas ever asks him anything like that.”

Alex laughed: “Remember when Herc said he had a date and Laf showed up at the restaurant in a disguise to check on her, because she had ‘weird vibes’?”

Eliza snorted and nodded at the memory, before moving on: “So we have a route of communication, sort of, to tell how the flirting is received. If it’s good, you can ask him out. If not, well, I have ice cream and a shoulder to cry on.”

“Betsy, you are the best of women, honestly. If you weren’t so gay, I’d marry you,” he told her with a grin.

“Like I said, you’re a charmer,” she ruffled his hair, before ushering him and Philip – who had been elated about the later bedtime – out the door while reminding him to tell her everything from now on.

He left with that promise to her and a lighter heart.

The next day started like any other, with Thomas finding Alex in the break room like nothing had happened. For a moment Thomas worried the other was going to pretend that nothing had been said, crumbling his resolve to start flirting today.

“Hi, Alex,” he decided on his normal greeting, just to test the room.

Alex turned and smiled – it was that stupid bright smile that did things to Thomas – then said: “Hi, you’re looking good today? New pants?”

They weren’t new and Thomas knew that Alex knew that, because it was an outfit he’d worn many times. The comment eased some of his anxiety about this as he replied: “No, but glad you’re finally appreciating my impeccable sense of style.”

The eyeroll Alex gave him couldn't have been stopped even if he tried, so he just winked: “Nah, you still dress overly colored. Maybe I can help you find a better sense of style. Those pants would have to come off for that, though.”

Then he sashayed away like he hadn’t left Thomas blushing, pouring coffee over his hand because he wasn’t paying attention to the coffeepot.

And for the next few daysit continued like this. Their arguments that had turned into banter had now turned into flirting.

They were dancing around each other like teenagers afraid to be rejected for prom and the whole office had probably caught onto it. Alex was sure of that with all the looks knowing they were getting.

This was confirmed when Washington made him stay after a meeting in which some flirty comments had slipped into their debate, he raised a brow at Alex and asked: “What happened to the ‘nothing like that, sir’?”

Alex blushed heavily and squeaked: “Back then it wasn’t.”

“So it is like that now?”

“Sir,” it was a whine and Alex would deny it later.

“Alex,” Washington just replied, completely nonplussed.

“Ugh,” Alex groaned, this softly said: “Maybe? Not yet. I don’t know.”

“Well, Thomas is a good man, be kind to him,” Washington told him, a slight warning in his tone, before he got protective, “And be careful with yourself too, son.”

“I’m not-” Alex cut off the standard reply, because it was really not true at this point, so instead he nodded: “I will, thank you, sir.”

Washington send him away with some paperwork and an order not to stay late again and Alex promised he wouldn’t, because he was picking up Philip today and he had promised the kid they could go to a park after school.

Philip was so excited to see him and Alex pushed him on a swing and caught him when he wanted to jump off.

During dinner Philip asked: “How is Mr. Thomas? He was nice, why doesn’t he come around again? He came that one time and you are friends now, right? Why doesn’t he come around like Uncle Herc and Uncle Laf do?”

“It’s a bit complicated, Pip,” Alex said after a moment, “Me and Thomas are friends, but it just never flowed like that.”

“You always says I can change my own path, why can’t you?” God, sometimes Pip was too smart for his own good.

“I’ll see if he wants to come to movie night with your Uncles and Aunties. Does that sound fun?” he might regret this, but the look on Pip’s face was worth it.

He didn’t approach Thomas directly, with all the flirting he didn’t want it to come across as asking for a date. If he was going to ask Thomas, he was going to ask it better than that. Instead he approached Angelica: “Hey, Angie, can I ask you something?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“For movie night, I, uhm, well, I wanted to ask Thomas to come, but that’s weird, because it would be me asking, so I wanted to ask if you could invite him to come along?” Alex hoped she would say yes.

Angelica smiled pleasantly and Alex dreaded her answer: “Why is it weird when you do it?”

“Come on, Angie,” Alex whined, “I’m sure you and Eliza gossip about me. You know what this is about. If I ask him out, I’ll do it differently than a group movie night, because Pip wanted to see him again.”

“You’re gonna ask him out?” Angelica asked excitedly.

Alex cursed his stupid mouth and said: “Maybe. It’s still new and stuff, but eventually, yeah, it’s the plan at least. Don’t tell him though, please.”

Angelica cooed: “You are too cute. I won’t tell, don’t worry.”

“Will you ask him?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” maybe there was a bit too much force in the words, but Alex didn’t care.

That Friday Alex was more anxious about movie night than he had any right to be. It was usually hosted at his house so that he could put Pip to bed on time, before they watched non-kid movies, though everyone had a soft spot for the animated movies.

He had checked everything over multiple times and the only thing distracting him was Philip’s latest car parkour.

Herc arrived first, sweeping his nephew into his arms and being a calming enough presence that Alex had relaxed by the time Eliza and Maria along with Peggy showed up.

Then Angelica arrived with Thomas in tow. He greeted Alex awkwardly: “Sorry, is this okay? Angie said it was, but I don’t want to intrude.”

Luckily Alex didn’t have to answer, because Philip came running: “Mr. Thomas! Mr. Thomas, I have started keeping my drawings in this book and it’s already pretty full, do you want to see? We’re going to watch Mulantonight? Have you seen Mulanbefore? Did you like it?”

Thomas smiled: “Hey, kiddo, how about one question at a time? I’d love to see your drawings.”

Philip cheered and dragged Thomas away, who send Alex an apologetic look, though Alex didn’t mind having the pressure of him. He was distracted by Angelica: “That went well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you dork, it’s going fine,” Angelica assured him, “Now, I want something to drink. Do you have popcorn?”

Lafayette arrived last. By the time he came knocking they had all the snacks set out and the movie was waiting. He bustled in: “Bonjour, Bonjour, sorry I’m late. There was traffic and I was sleeping.”

“Uncle Laf!” Philip was off the couch and at Laf’s side in seconds, these nights would always make him excited enough that he dropped off early.

“Ah, mon petit neveu, how are you?” Laf hugged him tightly.

Philip babbled excitedly: “I’m going to become an artist. I showed Mr. Thomas my drawing book and he says they’re really good and my teacher says so as well.”

“Mr. Thomas?” Laf asked, he hadn’t been around often lately with his job keeping him busy and traveling. He had seen something was up, but he hadn’t gotten the note that the two were doing something about it and he hadn’t heard Philip about it yet either.

From the couch Thomas spoke up: “Hi, Lafayette. How was your week? Heard they needed you back in Paris?”

“Thomas! What une surprise!” Laf said and they had a conversation, which was more an interrogation how he’d ended up here. Alex saved Thomas by telling the nosy Frenchman that they were worked together on his financial plan and Thomas was not so bad ‘yes, Laf just like you said, I know.’

Movie night went great, they watched Mulan first and Philip kept asking Thomas questions throughout the entire movie, which Thomas answered dutifully. This amused the other adults greatly.

By the end the excitement had died down and Philip was nodding off. Alex left Eliza in charge of refilling the snacks, while he got Pip ready for bed.

When he got back the only spot left was right next to Thomas, he suppressed an eyeroll at his friends antics and sat down, knowing Laf would be all over this when the night was over. But for now he didn’t care.

He and Thomas had watched movies together before, albeit under different circumstances, but it was nothing new. Though he had forgotten how warm Thomas was and – now that he thought about it – he was kind of tired.

Slowly he slid sidewards throughout their viewing of The Patriotuntil he was leaning on Thomas’s shoulder, fighting to keep his eyes open. In the distance he felt something shift and the he slid further, a warm arm resting over him before he drifted off completely.

When he awoke it was dark and he was tucked in on the couch, cold and alone.

He sat up in confusion until his eye fell on a note in a familiar cursive handwriting that was too pretty to belong to someone in this century. It read: You fell asleep. We thought it better to let you be. Thanks for inviting me, I had fun. Sleep tight. x, T.

And honestly that little ‘x’ shouldn’t have made Alex blush. He looked up to a picture of John and whispered: “My dear Laurens, I think I’ve fallen in too deep already.”

The picture didn’t reply, instead John’s smiling face stayed static, but Alex still found it comforting to have John looking at him with something akin to encouragement. John would want him to be happy, he had always tried to do what he thought to be best for Alex, for Pip.

“You’re right, Jacky, I shouldn’t be dancing around this,” he said, “It’s just hard. And I’m scared,” he huffed a laugh, “Isn’t that ironic? After everything I’ve been through the great Alexander Hamilton is scared of asking someone on a date.”

He paused for a moment then said: “Don’t look at me like that, you asked me on our first date, you rash motherfucker. Don’t think I’ve forgotten you springing it on me when I was almost collapsing after finishing a paper. I got you with marriage, though, so even-Steven.”

It was comforting to talk to a picture of John, it was different when talking to his grave, less heavy when not surrounded by stones. Was it probably slightly strange? Yes. But Alex had been strange his entire life.

“Maybe I should be a bit rash for once, pick up your slack,” he told John, ignoring that his friends always said that they were both too rash and it was bad for their health that the two of them got along so well, “I think I’m doing it.”

That weekend he made a plan, had to double check something with Philip and worry-rant at Eliza, she was a great listener, he truly loved her.

Then Monday morning it was time, God he was nervous as he waited at Thomas’s office, where the man usually dropped his stuff before starting his day.

“Hey, uhm, this might be weird, but Pip told me about the vase in your office and if I remember correctly it was empty Friday, so I got you these,” Alex held up a bouquet of purple flowers, “It’s- they’re cornflowers, I hope I remembered correctly.”

Thomas took them, a bit stunned, his eyes slightly sparkling.

“I looked up their meaning. They mean ‘delicacy’, but also ‘be gentle with me’ and I thought that very fitting, because you’re – this is sound weird – but you’re very cute in an ‘I want to protect you’-way,” Alex was stumbling over his words, “But it’s also a request – the ‘be gentle with me’-part, I mean –because-” he swallowed and hesitated, “Well, you see, I- I was wondering if you- you would like to go on a- uhm, on a date. With me. This Friday. If you want. You don’t have to of course, maybe I’ve read this whole thing wrong and that’s fine, but if you do want to then I’ll be happy- more than happy, actually-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I’d love to go on a date with you this Friday,” Thomas told him, blush coloring his cheeks and a bashful smile tugging on his lips.

Alex grinned the grin that did things to Thomas as he replied: “That’s- Yeah, great, I- uhm, I’ll text you details?”

“Yeah, okay. Then I’ll go put these in water. Thank you, Alex, they’re beautiful,” Thomas walked away, flowers in hand, planning to yell at Angelica through the phone.

Bit of a more lighthearted chapter after all the grief and angst lmao

Also, always lovely when I get to the part of ‘and now they flirt’ only to realize that I do not know how to flirt and I have no clue how to write it. Ooof. So shout out to time skips xp

Side note: this → “well, they just found they were only dating to prove something to themselves.” is not invalidating the fact that Alex is bi, just that Eliza wanted to prove to herself that she wasn’t a raging homosexual while Alex wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t in love with John.

Also I thought it was very funny that they thought to use Laf to keep track of the other, only for both to tell him absolutely nothing

#RR writing #tw: grief mention #Alexander Hamilton #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #Jamilton #thomas jefferson #angelica schuyler #eliza schuyler #Philip Hamilton #Lafayette #marquis de lafayette #george washington #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 4 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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xpedropascal · 4 years

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To Be So Lonely [Maxwell Lord x Reader] Part One

Summary: After being struck by a family tragedy, Maxwell Lord finds his legacy in taking over his father’s business, Black Gold Cooperative. Cold and shut-off from the world around him, he decides he does not have time for anything other than his work and cares only about pushing his company to success – but how difficult does that become for him when you enter his life as a ghost from the past?

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

WARNINGS: mention of financial instability, absent parents, emotional abuse

PART ONE // PART TWO // PART THREE // PART FOUR [coming soon!]

MASTERLIST

KO-FI

AUTHOR’S NOTE: my first ever fan-fiction! please be kind :) flashbacks can be identified through use of italics. To Be So Lonely will have themes of hurt/comfort, angst, fluff etc. i plan on it being an exciting ride. there will be connections to the DCEU and certain characters will be making an appearance... however, for story-telling purposes, this will be in an alternate universe to Wonder Woman 1984 just because the movie has yet to be released. the main bulk of the story will be set in the 80s, with the occasional childhood flashback. please let me know if you want to be added onto a tag list!

♡ ♡ ♡ ONE ♡ ♡ ♡

Stepping foot into the lobby of Lord Manor had you in awe. Their family home was huge, and certainly unlike anything you had ever seen before. Even at your tender age, you were mesmerised by the glistening marble floor and gold décor. It enchanted you. Curiosity filled you and you unlaced your fingers from your mother’s and found yourself drawn to a vase of crimson red roses to the left of the staircase, rubbing at the soft petals. You clambered up the main staircase. It was enormous, but you were so taken in by the traditional oil paintings that covered the walls. They were everywhere but you could still make out the elegant wallpaper that looked as though it had come straight out of the 1800’s. One painting in particular, located at the top of the staircase, stole your attention. It was, perhaps, ten times the size of you and looked almost haunting. Even at your young age, you were able to identify it as a family portrait. It pictured a tall man in a suit with broad shoulders holding a cigar in one hand. His free hand was wrapped around one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. Very Marilyn Monroe-esque, with pearls around her neck and, blonde curly hair, she looked like she came straight out of a silver-screen movie. But what attracted you most about the painting, was the young boy, suited up in the centre. He looked like a prince- with dark blonde hair and a smile that could light up a room. You reached out your small fingers and touched the boy’s face, feeling the dry paint hard against your skin.

You jumped as your mother hissed your name. She ran up the stairs and scolded you gently for running off. She picked you up in her arms and smoothed down your hair. “Remember you must be on your best behaviour for Mr and Mrs Lord. We need to set a really good first impression.” Your mother informed you and you nodded your head obediently in response.

“Well well well,” your mother spun her heel around to see Naomi Lord standing at the bottom of the carpeted staircase, her ice blue eyes locked on to you both. You recognised her as the beautiful lady from the oil painting. “It seems you have already made yourself comfortable in my family home.”

“My apologies, Mrs Lord,” your mother said frantically as she carefully made her way down the grand staircase, still holding you in her arms. “Uhm- this is my daughter-“

Your mother attempted to introduce you but Mrs Lord raised her hand, cutting her off. “My husband Maxwell Lord III will not be joining us this evening. As you can imagine, he is swarmed with work.” The way Naomi Lord suddenly changed the subject proved that she simply did not care. In fact, it was well-known that Naomi Lord did not involve herself with anyone who she felt like were less than her. Less wealthy, less privileged- she certainly wanted no involvement with you and your mother. Your mother had left her minimum wage job and had travelled all the way from your tiny one bedroom box apartment in Gotham for this job opportunity. “Nevertheless, we have decided to offer you the job, assuming you are willing to take it.”

You felt your mother’s grip tighten around you as you sensed her excitement. “Yes! Yes of course Mrs Lord. I would be honoured.”

Mrs Lord’s lips curved into a devlish smile. “The hours will be those of a nine-to-five. I’m assuming you have a place of residence nearby?”

Your mother faltered. “Uhm,” you watched Mrs Lord’s smirk fall from her face. “Actually no… I travelled here from Gotham and booked into a motel for a few nights.” Naomi Lord probably didn’t even realise her own face was twisting at the thought of an ashy motel, but she made her disgust incredibly evident. “And actually… I can’t afford to take my child to a nursery, or hire a babysitter, and we don’t yet have proper home. I mean, I can’t leave my little girl in the motel all alone. I know I should’ve thought about it more but, we really don’t have much, Mrs Lord. Would it be possible, if, during my working hours, she could occupy herself here? She is well behaved, I promise, and won’t get in the way of you or your husband-“

“You will address my husband as Mr Lord,” Naomi snapped. “I will speak to Maxwell about this… inconvenience of yours, and we will have someone give you a call regarding the outcome. You are excused to leave now.”

Your mother found herself nodding. “It was so lovely to meet you Mrs Lord.”

Naomi chuckled. “Toodles.”

♡

“She will glady take the job Maxwell,” Naomi perched herself on the corner of her husband, Maxwell Lord III’s, home office desk. Her blonde hair balanced on her shoulders in tight curls and her ruby red lips shimmered under the amber light. “But I have been made aware that she is a single mother, struggling financially. If she is to work here all day, she has nobody to watch over her daughter. Can’t even afford basic level childcare.”

Maxwell Lord III hesitated, fumbling with his gold fountain pen. “Her daughter is… how old?”

“I’m not sure,” Mrs. Lord admitted with a gentle shrug of her shoulders. “I’d estimate a few years younger than our Max.”

Mr Lord looked over at the framed photo of his twelve year old son. Their son, Maxwell Lord IV, was a cheerful young boy. Privately educated, of course, but always achieved the best grades. He was sociable too, always making an appearance at his parent’s parties and events. Still only a child, his father’s business partners were smitten with Maxwell Lord IV, and while Mr Lord didn’t have the closest relationship with his son, he loved him dearly. Max admired his father, and wanted to be just like him when he grew up. His father was the CEO of Black Gold Cooperative, the Lord family business, and what would inevitably go on to be Max’s legacy. His father had a heart of gold, and even his employees would agree that he was a joy to work for. But unfortunately, being the CEO of the empire that was Black Gold Cooperative meant Mr Lord had very little, if not any time to be with his son. Nevertheless, Max loved his father unconditionally, and did not know any different. Despite being sociable, Max was a lonesome child, not having any friends, other than the cooks, cleaners and butlers who seemed to come and go as they pleased.

“We will have Mary-Angela clear out the guest house before she leaves on Monday.” Mr Lord said matter of factly, deciding he had come to a suitable conclusion.

“Wait,” Mrs Lord replied, knotting her eyebrows together in confusion. “You’re not seriously suggesting-“

“That Ms Y/L/N and her daughter are welcome to stay here? Yes.” Mr Lord finished his wife’s sentence. “I know it might seem a little strange but actually it’s quite common… I mean look at Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne of Gotham. When they had Alfred Pennyworth move in it served as good publicity for Wayne Enterprises. They were seen as caring and relatable. Please darling, we can provide them with financial aid. It is the right thing to do.”

Mrs Lord stood up abruptly, twisting her face. “We are not a charity, Maxwell.” Mrs Lord snarled. “We are the Lord family-“

Mr Lord shook his head, beginning to feel frustrated at his wife’s selfishness. “Family? Really? When was the last time you attended one of Max’s piano performances or took him to the dancing class he has so desperately been wishing to attend?” Maxwell Lord III may have been a kind man but it was his wife who was almost always on the receiving end of his short temper.

Mrs Lord rolled her eyes before walking straight out of her husband’s office. Yes, the Lord family needed a maid, and your mother was the perfect candidate – but Mrs Lord was not willing to associate with locals. Mrs Lord’s heels clicked against the marble floor, and she walked straight past her twelve year old son who had been listening in on his parent’s conversation. Twelve-year-old Max felt tears well in his eyes. He hated hearing his parents fight, and now, it was happening more than ever. Max closed his eyes and sunk against the wall, sobbing quietly.

♡

Of course, your mother was granted the job. The Lord family guest house would be your new home for the next four years. Despite it only being a guest house, it was so much bigger than your boxed Gotham apartment and it was decorated beautifully, much like the interior of Lord Manor. Little did you know that the next four years would be a blessing in disguise.

In his spare time, Maxwell Lord IV would play piano or read works of fiction. He didn’t really have a normal childhood, or learn what fun was, until he met you. The day he made your acquaintance was the day you moved in. Hearing you scream interrupted him from studying literature. He heard you scream again, but this time you were louder and more distressed. On instinct, he managed to find his feet and hurried to the bay window of his bedroom, only to see you running around in a floral dress, continuing to scream. Maxwell spent no time watching you and ran as fast as he could to where you were in the garden between his home and the guest house.

“Are you okay?” he shouted after you. You gasped when you heard his voice and spun around to see the boy from the oil painting. And he was so handsome.

“Oh, my prince!” You gasped, swinging your arms around Maxwell who had once again froze up. “Quick, help me slay this dragon!” Maxwell watched you point at… absolutely nothing. He hesitated for a few seconds and you started to run around, screaming again and play fighting the air. This act you were playing out reminded him of one of his favourite novels, and in that moment, Maxwell knew what he had to do. He pretended to pull out a sword.

“Don’t worry my princess, I’ll protect you!” Maxwell shouted. You watched the boy play fight the imaginary dragon in awe.

Once Maxwell had decided that he defeated the dragon, he stood there, breathless but proud. You sneaked up from behind and planted a kiss on Maxwell’s cheek.

“You’re my hero.”

#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #max lord #max lord x reader #to be so lonely

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opheliasbrokenmind · 5 years

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faith - tommy shelby

my school is starting in five days and i feel sad for that, but this girl here working hard for you y'know. this one is for lovely @justanothershelby it was on my drafts for a while and i finally managed to finish it. enjoy reading and don't forget to give me some feedback, ily and im always open for requests 💛

It was a rainy night when you met with him, Thomas Shelby. It was a nice February day in 1914, the war hasn’t started yet and your friend Ada invited you to home, she wanted you to meet with her family. You already knew Polly and Finn but never seen her infamous brothers. You were agemates with her and John was two years older than you, so when you saw him the two of you immediately became friends. Arthur was much older than you, and he treated you like you were his own sister. Unlike his brothers, Tommy was different. He wasn’t at home that day and the rain come down hard, Polly insisted you stay there for the night.

You woke up at three in the morning and walked downstairs for a glass of water. You saw him when you came to the kitchen and he turned his head to you, ‘Who the hell are you?’ He whispered and walked to you, the moonlight was making him visible and you saw the bloodstains on his face and white shirt, he was also soaked to the skin. You stepped back, afraid of him. ‘I’m Ada’s friend, y/n Laurent and I assume that you are her brother Thomas.’ He came closer to you and stopped, you heard his heavy breaths, it was like he was hurt. ‘It’s nice to meet you, finally.’ You looked at him, ‘You’re wounded, aren’t you?’

‘Just a few scrapes, no big deal.’ You sighed, ‘Don’t lie, let’s see if I can help you.’ You said and poured yourself a glass of water, leaving Tommy to sit on the chair. He turned on the light and you were able to see his wounds this time. You found a clean cloth and held it under the water, ‘Shouldn’t you be using alcohol for disinfection?’ You walked to him and started to clean his hands, ‘I read somewhere that the alcohol delaying the healings, not sure though.’ You murmured softly and took his hand in yours, looking at his wounded knuckles without knowing he was watching your face. You cleaned his hands silently, washing the cloth once they are done and came back to him.

He groaned when you touched the cut above his right eyebrow, ‘Shh, stay quiet or they’ll wake up.’ Thomas nodded and let you wipe the blood from his face. ‘Thank you.’ He smiled a little and you smiled back, ‘Everyone would do the same.’ He held your arm, ‘Believe me, they wouldn’t. Don’t tell anyone what you did, alright?’ You frowned, ‘Why? Where were you and who did this to you?’ Thomas sighed, ‘It was for the family business and I’m okay, I don’t want them to worry about me.’ He looked directly in your eyes, ‘It’ll be our little secret, promise me.’ You gave up when he looked at you like that, his eyes were so innocent. ‘I promise, you better dry off if you don’t want to be sick.’

‘Hmm, how should I do this?’ He smiled playfully and you rolled your eyes, ‘How about using a towel for your hair and changing your clothes?’ Thomas unbuttoned his shirt slowly, watching your cheeks heating and he laughed. ‘I didn’t mean this... I should probably go to sleep now, goodnight Thomas.’ He nodded, ‘Yes, of course. Goodnight, y/n.’ You went upstairs, to the room you were staying and after a few minutes he came in, ‘What are you doing here?’ He cracked a smile, ‘It’s my room. But don’t worry, I came for pyjamas.’ Thomas picked the clothes and turned to you, ‘If you sit by the window, you can hear the raindrops. It’s a beautiful night if you like this weather.’

You hesitated for a second then spoke, ‘Care to join me? You can wear them here, I’ll close my eyes.’ He smiled while he changed and told you can open your eyes. You two sat on the cushion in front of the window and listened to the rain, none of you speaking. You broke the silence, ‘You do this often?’ Thomas watched the raindrops, ‘Only when I can’t sleep.’ You nodded, ‘And this happens a lot I guess.’ He didn’t say anything and you continued, ‘Ada says you always think and don’t tell her what I’ll say next but she really loves you, cares about you.’ A real smile appeared on his face, reaching to his eyes. It was the warmest smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

You were lucky because not many people had a chance to see that smile. The life erased it relentlessly, turning him to a man who hides his feelings and shows no emotion. That night you stayed up together and didn’t talk much but you enjoyed each other’s company. In the morning you acted like you didn’t meet and Ada introduced you to his brother. Thomas thought you two had a connection but he saw you with John and how he smiled at you even though he was with Martha. He thought his brother liked you so he didn’t make a move on you, John wasn’t that old for you but he was seven years older than you. Although, that didn’t stop him from having feelings for you.

John and you were nothing more than friends, both of you loved each other as only friends and you loved Martha and their children. You always got along well with him and he loved you like you were his sister. Thomas didn’t notice that and buried his love to his heart. The months passed quickly and you warmed to family, loving all of them. One day the boys came home, told they signed up for the war. ‘W-what? Please tell me it’s a joke John, tell me you won’t leave us!’ John didn’t answer and you found yourself crying and looking at Thomas, ‘Tom, you’re not going, are you?’ He smiled a little and came closer to you, ‘Well, we’re going, love. To fight for our country and protect you.’ He embraced you in a hug, feeling your warm tears on his white shirt.

‘You can protect us here! Please, Tommy. Please don’t go.’ You cried softly and let him hold you, ‘We’ll come back quickly, you won’t even notice my absence.’ You raised your head and looked at him, ‘You think it’ll be that easy for me, that I won’t miss you? Christ, Tommy.’ You pushed him, leaving a speechless Thomas behind you. He stood there more than half an hour and finally decided to go after you, he never felt that way. Whenever he needed you, you were always there for him but this time was different. You didn’t want to lose him, didn’t want him to go and leave you behind. You were terrified, what if he never comes back again, from the war? To be honest, he didn’t. He left a part of himself there and never be the same.

Thomas found you at your home and your mother let him in, knowing who he was and what he meant to you. He knocked on your door, ‘I don’t want to talk, mom.’ Your voice cracked and he slowly opened the door, ‘It’s me.’ You were shocked, staring at him with a blank face. He closed the door behind him and walked to your bed, that blue eyes of him never leaving yours. ‘Why? Why did you come?’ You asked as he sat next to you, of course, he saw the tears and brought his hand to your face, wiping them away. ‘I wanted you to stay but you left the house. I know how you feel now, y/n. We h-’ You cut him off, ‘Don’t tell me you know how I feel, you can’t understand. You have no idea about how I feel!’

‘Then let me know, tell me.’ His voice was so soft and you let your guard off, ‘I don’t want to lose you to a fucking war, Tommy. I know I’m being selfish but I don’t want you to leave. What if... What if you don’t come back? How can I live without you?’ He was surprised but pulled you to himself and embraced you in a hug, ‘You’re not going to lose me, you hear that? I’ll come back to you, love. I’ll come back and I’ll be by your side, always.’ He whispered, not to only make you relax, also himself. He wanted to believe the fact that you’ll be together and happy in the end. Life had other plans, but both of you were unaware of that. ‘Come on, I’m taking you somewhere.’

‘Where? I look like a mess, I can’t go out.’ You looked at him with red and puffy eyes, Thomas almost smiled with your words. ‘Nonsense, you look beautiful.’ Then he grabbed your hand and helped you stood up, you two left the house. He led the way, ‘Where are we going?’ You asked and he turned his face to you, ‘It can’t be a surprise if I tell you.’ You rolled your eyes, ‘You know how much I hate surprises.’ He smiled playfully, ‘I think you’ll like this one.’ You continued to walk and you frowned when you recognized the way, ‘We’re going to Uncle Charlie’s yard, aren’t we?’ He nodded and you spoke again, ‘Are we going to shovel shit together?’

‘Nope. There’s someone I want you to meet with.’ Thomas looked happy and you let him do whatever he wanted, it was a nice thing to see him like that. ‘Close your eyes.’ You shook your head, ‘No way.’ He insisted, ‘y/n, close your eyes.’ You sighed and closed your eyes, he held your hand and helped you walk without falling. You heard some noises and after a few minutes he spoke, ‘You can open your eyes now.’ You did as he said so and you were charmed with what you saw. There was a beautiful white filly in front of you, your eyes shined with joy, ‘My God, Tommy... Is she yours?’ You asked, without looking at him.

‘Yes, and I want you to name her.’ Your eyes were wide open and you turned to him, ‘What? Why?’ He noticed how happy you were and he burned the moment to his memory, saving it for days he was going to spend without you. ‘Because you’ll take care of her when I’m away, I believe you two ladies will get on well.’ You smiled and caressed the little horse, ‘We will.’ Thomas watched you petting her and that put a genuine smile on his lips, ‘Found a name yet?’ You looked up at him and he locked his eyes with yours, he was going to miss them. ‘How about Faith?’ You asked, stepping closer to him. ‘Is there a reason why you chose it?’

‘Because I’ll always have faith in you.’ You whispered, hoping you won’t regret your words later. Thomas took a step and closed the distance between you, his cold hand cupped your warm cheek, ‘Even when I don’t have faith in myself?’ He whispered, too and you nodded slowly, ‘Especially then.’ You said firmly, looking directly into his deep blue eyes. ‘Then Faith it is.’ You smiled and closed your eyes, he admired how angelic you looked. Tommy wanted to lean in and crush his lips against yours but he knew it was wrong. He was scared of war, he didn’t want to give you hope and he was still older than you. He didn’t want to break your heart.

Then the day came, the Shelby clan and you were at the station, saying goodbyes. Thomas watched as you hugged to his brother John, saying some words he couldn’t hear. You slowly made your way to him, heartbeats skipping and with a worried look on your voice. ‘I have something for you.’ You tried to smile and gave him a photograph of yourself, ‘I know it’s not a big thing but I don’t want you to forget how I look.’ He stared at the paper and his gaze met with yours, ‘How can I?’ He took a step closer, placing it to his pocket. You closed the distance and hugged him, your lips nearly touched to his ear and you spoke softly, ‘Come back, Tommy. Come back to me.’

He did, though. He came back but not as the same person, he changed. Colder, sadder and worse. He suffered too much during the war, not only physically. His heart ached when he couldn’t remember how does your voice sound. He was afraid of death, what would you do if he died? You were in pain most of the days, worrying about his well-being. You wanted him back, you wanted him to come back alive and in one piece. You tried your best to help to Shelby women and you kept your feelings hidden. However, Polly knew. She found you in his room one day, staring at his empty bed.

‘Tommy’s a stubborn guy, y/n. He’ll come back.’

‘What if he can’t, Polly? What if he can’t make it here?’ You asked, eyes teary.

‘You have to believe in him, love. He doesn’t want to see you like that, does he? Now, wash your face and come help me.’

Thomas came back, but a part of him never did. You saw it in his eyes, he wasn’t the same. You felt the coldness, he went to war as a boy and he came back as a man. A man with a lot of trouble, you thought. He was drinking or smoking all day, sometimes both. He didn't let you get close and you never forced him. You gave him space but you found out it was a mistake after a long time. He didn’t heal, not even a bit. Actually, he got worse and you found yourself leaving him alone to deal with his problems. You thought he’d figure out his feelings and thoughts but no, you couldn’t be more wrong.

‘Please, y/n. Go talk to him for God’s sake.’

You knew Polly was right, he wasn’t coming to home for days, not even for sleeping. They doubted if he ever slept, he was a complete mess. You tried to look comfortable and went to the Garrison, knowing he’d be there. He was there most of the day, drinking until he passes out. You were angry at the world and at yourself, you hated the life you were living. You hated to see him breaking down, going away with every day passing. The Tommy before the war... That young, happy boy you used to love, you missed him. You knew he was gone and won’t be coming back but you still hoped.

Thomas was near the counter when you came in, drinking a glass of whiskey. He didn’t notice you until you touched his arm, ‘Tommy?’ He looked at you with empty eyes, then lit a cigarette. ‘Can we talk?’ He sighed and took a long breath from the cigarette, ‘I’m listening, eh?’ You continued to look at him, ‘Not here.’ He turned his eyes to you once again, ‘Where? You want to fuck me now or something?’ You frowned and felt your heart was breaking, this wasn’t the Tommy you thought you knew. ‘I can’t believe you.’ You said and turned your back, walking to the door. ‘y/n, stop. I didn’t mean it.’

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the private room, closing the door behind you. ‘I’m sorry, what did you want to tell me?’ You sighed and took the cigarette he offered to you, ‘I came here to talk with you, Tom. Not to watch you listen and walk away. You know, they’re worried for you.’ He exhaled the smoke and gave a look to you, ‘And they sent you?’ You sighed, knowing exactly what he meant. ‘I thought it’d be better. I’m not worried, Tom because I’m scared. Please tell me what’s wrong. Talk to me, please.’

‘What’s wrong, huh? Do you even ask that? I’ll tell you what happened, y/n. The war happened! And yeah, we fought there but the war won. I fucking lost and it took everything from me.’ You couldn’t look at him, the words hurt both of you, ‘I’m here, your family is here. You didn’t lose them, don’t let the war take them from you.’ He stubbed out the cigarette and walked to you, ‘Don’t you get it, I lost myself.’ You stepped closer, too. ‘Let me help you, Tommy.’ He closed his eyes and gave up.

So you did. He told you about the nightmares and some nights, you stayed awake with him until the sun raised again. You sat with him in his bed, holding his hand, speaking about something random. Your feelings grew bigger but you knew it was something one-sided. You didn’t complain and did your best to make him feel better. One day a girl came to Garrison to work and when you saw him looking at her, you knew it. The tears appeared in your eyes but you smiled, sending them back.

You saw him kissing Grace one day and you left the pub, walking to John’s place. He opened the door and before you say anything, he embraced you in a hug. Of course, he knew, he saw the way you looked at his brother like he was your whole world. You cried your heart out, your tears wettened his shoulder as he didn’t let you go. ‘I’m sorry, y/n.’ John whispered and you continued to cry, ‘I’m happy for him, John. I really am but it hurts too much.’

The months went on and John came to you with an offer, Ada was going to London and he thought you’d be a great company. You accepted, packed up your things and left with her, saying a small goodbye to the family. Grace was gone but Thomas didn’t say anything to you and you knew he still loved her. It hurt you so much and you left the town with a broken heart. Ada lost her husband and she wasn’t any better but you two supported each other.

‘You know, y/n. One day it won’t hurt as much as it does right now, and you’ll be happy again. You’ll meet someone who loves you like you loved Tommy.’

You didn’t believe her but it almost happened. You haven’t seen him for a few years and the heaviness you felt in your heart became less and one evening, you found yourself dancing with a gentleman. He asked you for a date and you thought it was the time to move on, you accepted. Oscar was a good, caring man and he loved you. After a few months you started to dating, he started to feel sick and you learnt he had an illness because of the war and didn’t have a chance to survive.

He wanted to spend his last days with you so when Thomas sent you and Ada an invitation to his wedding, you couldn’t attend and you weren’t sad about it. You waited on Oscar’s bedside at the hospital and after a few days, he passed out. You felt sad for him but at least he died in peace, thinking he was with a woman who loved him. Yeah, you loved him but he never made you feel like Thomas did. They weren’t invited to the funeral so you didn’t see him until another funeral, belonged to his wife.

It was John who called you because Thomas was worse than ever. He did the same things he used to do right after the war, drinking until he passed out but now he had a son and the poor little boy needed his father. You went to his house and found him in the stables. ‘There you are.’ He didn’t look at you and continued to smoke, he was sitting on the floor and you joined him. ‘What do you want?’ Thomas asked, still avoiding the eye contact and you kept staring at him, watching his every move. ‘Nothing.’

‘I heard about you and him from John, it’s bad.’

‘Yes, it is. The war didn’t hurt only the ones who fought there, it hurt people left here, too. Now I see what you told before, I lost too.’

‘Do you... love him?’ He asked and your eyes widened, what kind of question that was? ‘Do you love her?’ He stayed silent and got up, ‘Stand up, you need to see something.’ You frowned and accepted the hand he offered to you, ‘What?’ He didn’t let go your hand and you walked together to the horses, ‘Here she is.’ Thomas stopped and the horse neighed when it saw the two of you. ‘I-I can’t believe, you kept her?’ You stepped to the animal and petted it.

‘She wasn’t the one to race but I couldn't let her go so she’s here with me.’ After a long time, you found yourself smiling, ‘She’s not the same, eh?’

‘None of us are.’

‘How did we end up like this, Tom?’

‘Like what?’

‘I... Well, we're not that teenagers anymore so there isn’t a reason to not to tell you. I had this crush on you for... uhm, for a really long time and then you know, you came back from the war and things never been the same since then. Not that I didn’t like you after the war, I did. But then there was Grace and you looked really happy with her in a long time so-’

‘You’re saying you left the town because of me?’

‘It’s not like that. I left because I was happy for you but it hurt me and then I met with Oscar and he said he didn’t have much time, I couldn’t leave him alone. I couldn’t come to your wedding and to be honest, I didn’t feel very sad about that. John called and spoke to me so... that’s all, I think.’

‘y/n...’

‘What? I know it doesn’t sound good but that’s the truth.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ You cracked a smile at that, ‘Tell you what? Hi Tommy, I l know you see me as a sister but oh, I think I’m kinda in love with you but I don’t want to ruin our friendship so let’s pretend like that never happened. That’s what you wanted to hear?!’

‘Because I felt the same... I thought you liked John and I was too old for you and after the war, you were different and then you left. I thought you weren’t coming back and Grace returned, told me she was pregnant and I married to her. I loved her but I don’t think I can ever love someone as much as I loved you.’

‘You’re not serious.’ He arched an eyebrow, ‘You say so?’ You glanced away, ‘How... I don’t know what to say, Tom. I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m sorry, too. Look at me, y/n.’ You raised your head and he was there, looking with that sad blue eyes of his, ‘I love you. Do you love me?’ You didn’t hold back your tears anymore and broke down into his chest, ‘I do, I always did. I love you, Tommy, I love you so much that it hurts me.’ You sat on the floor together, all snuggled up. ‘Hold me and never let me go.’ You whispered and he hugged you tighter, ‘I’ll never let you go.’

‘We lost too much time, we lost everything.’ He pulled you closer to his chest and stared at the horse, ‘We still have Faith, love.’

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donotexterminateupgradepudding · 5 years

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Defining the relationship between the 12th Doctor and Clara Oswald - part 1.

This is my first Dr. Who meta post; I am going to start with a topic that has had me thinking since I first saw it in season 8. The relationship between the 12th Doctor and Clara Oswald. When I watched each episode for the first time I didn’t pay too much attention to all of the details, but I really liked their dynamic, it reminded me of the 10th Doctor and Donna. Not the same but similar. I now have gone back and re-watched this season to ponder the details a bit more. This comes from me trying to determine what type of relationship they have. When 12 regenerates and runs around London trying to determine who murdered the dinosaur, he’s disoriented, blunt, and tries to figure out how to define his relationship with Clara now that he is a different person.

When he comes back to pick her up, the two of them slowly approach each other and after he states he’s made some mistakes and he’d like to do something about them he comes right out and says the following.

Clara replies that she never thought that he was her boyfriend. To which he states that “I never said that it was your mistake.”

I’m still not quite sure what is going on here. The Doctor is making it clear he’s a different person and he’s formally reintroducing himself to her. When she replies that she didn’t think he was her boyfriend, she has a look of slight shock and looks a little dewy eyed.

Did she think the 11th Doctor was a boyfriend of sorts and now is realizing that this older and very different doctor is not boyfriend material? One part of me wants to read this as her being hurt realizing that the 11th Doctor really is gone. Another part of me wants to think that she honestly didn’t see the 11th Doctor as a boyfriend. Maybe this shows that she was unsure what to think of him? Maybe she thought of him as a boyfriend sometime - since she did bring him to Christmas dinner and have him be a boyfriend. Clara is a great character because she plays her cards very close to her chest and keeps her feelings locked away. What is interesting is his statement of taking the blame and stating it was his mistake. That he did lead her on and wanted her to think of him as a boyfriend as the 11th Doctor.

He then takes her back home. They discuss the newspaper ad and the TARDIS phone number and how this woman is keen on them to stay together. He directly asks her how she feels on the subject. He gives her the option that she can only be home if she wants to be home. Clara looks upset but apologies profusely that she’s sorry; she doesn’t know who he is anymore.

Her phone rings and he insists she pick it up since it could be her boyfriend calling.

Interestingly, she tells him to shut up as she smiles and looks a little embarrassed before she tells him that she doesn’t have a boyfriend. This leads to the dramatic climax where his past self calls Clara to reassure her, that she’s likely scared and his future self is even more scared and that he uses her friendship with him the 11th Doctor to make sure she helps the 12th Doctor. He does this full well knowing she can’t deny his request.

She almost cries after he says good-bye and it allows the 12th Doctor to directly ask her if she’ll help him. He finally gets her to look at him and she has her emotional moment as they hug and she begins to accept the 12th Doctor. And thus, their new dynamic is established. The Doctor doesn’t think he’s a hugging type anymore, while Clara retorts that he doesn’t get a vote. To which he replies “Whatever you say.” He then awkwardly suggests that they get coffee, or chips or chips and coffee. Clara accepts the coffee. I don’t know about you, but Clara accepting the offer of coffee sounds like a first date to me. Both of them have first date body language, he’s hesitant but trying and she goes from being closed off to open as they walk off for coffee.

Clara beings to relax as she’s thinking - okay, we are going to get some coffee. Since he has no money to buy, she tells him that he’ll do the fetching but he’s also not sure he’s the fetching type. As they go off together we get this statement from her to end things:

Her body language is relaxed and natural. He’s still a bit uncomfortable, though this is likely in part to him not knowing his new body yet and also still unsure after that intense hugging moment. The point is she’s now looking at him and she’s more comfortable with accepting him as the Doctor, her Doctor. Thus, the 12th Doctor will defer to Clara as the boss in their interactions in the future.

In episode 2 “Into the Dalek”, he brings Clara with him as a sort of safety. He knows she is a compassionate person and it is clear he doesn’t quite know how she fits into his travels, but he does know that having her with him is important to him and he immediately trusts her to help him re-activate Rusty’s memories.

I think that “The Robot of Sherwood” follows this episode nicely as he feels like he must both defend her from danger and have her attention (as much as possible). Robin Hood is a dream for Clara and she is dazzled being able to meet a man she clearly loved of as a child. He can’t believe that Robin Hood is real and must show that he’s “fake” to prove to Clara that he’s real. I’d say this stems from him in the first episode telling her that she’s standing right in front of him but not able to accept that he is him. His immediate dislike of Robin Hood and his merry men leads to great banter and only does Clara get him to realize that they are very similar men by telling Robin Hood about the Doctor’s past. It is clear that he’s very protective and possessive of Clara and despite his much more bitter and blunt attitude he cares about her.

Unlike some of the previous Doctors who are much more friendly the 12th Doctor struggles with expressing himself through physical contact and words that he can’t always say, he’s the opposite of 10 and 11 on the surface.

However, as he becomes more comfortable with himself and with Clara his physical distance begins to shift. For “Listen” he allows Clara to connect with the telepathic interface to try and find her dream in her own timeline. For Clara to connect with the interface, he leans over her from the side and guides her hands into the interface before he steps away from her. There is so much going on in this scene.

For the 12th Doctor, this is an intimate behaviour. If he were completely touch adverse, he could just tell her to place her hands in the interface but instead he guides her hands in with his. His touch is gentle and there is a bit of a gap between his and hers, but this is something you would not just do with any person. If this were intended to be a very intimate, more overt and sexualized action, they would have framed it where the Doctor is positioned directly behind Clara, wrapping his arms and hands around her while he reaches around. Instead, he cleverly is positioned to her left and he’s at her side. To me this shows that he’s becoming more comfortable and desires some level of closeness with her yet he’s not ready to be more forward in his mannerisms. He’s not sure what she means to him yet. At the same time, the episode ends with the TARDIS using Clara’s timeline as an input takes her back to learn about his childhood secret. She doesn’t tell him about her discovery, I feel it in part shows that she too isn’t quite as confident in her relationship with him yet (since she can’t be honest about it) but she protects him as well by not letting him cross his own timeline. The TARDIS wanted her to meet the Doctor as a child so it must be important to their relationship.

I don’t want to examine every detail between episodes 2-4, but the episode were the Doctor become much more forward and comfortable with her is “Time Heist” the 5th in this season.

As I watched these episodes a second time it got me wondering how the Doctor developed in regards to how he saw her and his relationship with her. At first pass, my lazy read is that they are really good friends - on a second re-watch by episode 5 “Time Heist” it is quite clear that the Doctor sees their relationship as a relationship where they go on dates (that really always turn into crazy adventures). “Time Heist” starts off with the Doctor staring into her washing machine as he discusses where to go.

His suggestions/monologue are as follows: The Satanic nebula. Or . . the Lagoon of Lost Stars. Or we could go - to Brighton. I’ve got a whole day worked out.

Now, just looking at his suggestions, even with half a brain cell, that looks like the Doctor has planned a day full of activities. Activities that one would generally interpret as a date; albeit a date only a Time Lord would come up with. A Time Lord who has been traveling with her for some time.

He’s acting similar to the 9th and 10th Doctors with Rose, 10th with Martha. Whether or not 9 and 10 wanted to date Rose and Martha is a whole other meta post. What I want to highlight is Mr. Cranky-Stick-Insect-Doctor flat out told Clara he planned a date for the two of them. An entire day long.

Additionally, I tried to look up more information on what it means for a couple to go to Brighton. Some sources imply it is a good place to go on a date from London (which is where Clara lives), another thing I found was that couples that didn’t want to be seen publicly in London would meet up in Brighton. Or it could just imply that the Doctor is being conventional and suggesting it to be tourists in Brighton, just like tourists of the Satanic Nebula and the Lagoon of Lost Stars.

Clara declines his offer as she has plans. She tries to non-verbally let him know that she’s got a date, and as expected he’s slow on the uptake - why is she wearing make up? Why is she in heels?

Their entire conversation seems to be the Doctor completely confused and missing the fact that she’s going on a date with a guy and it is likely the same guy she went on a date with previously which he knew was happening during “Listen”.

This then leads them to robbing the bank of Karabraxos, helping the abused species and just it is another day with the Doctor and the TARDIS helping the universe.

After their adventure to rob the bank, the Doctor proudly returns Clara in time for her date. He’s brought her back at 7:12pm for her evening plans.

Everything about this makes it seem like he’s being a great friend (other than the fact he already got Clara’s attention and delayed her from the date in the first place). He out dated her planned date.

The Doctor then teasingly tells her to not do anything that he wouldn’t do. Clara responds finally and directly that “this is a date.” so after their adventure she’s finally spelled it out what is happening at 7:15pm.

Clara then realizes how she’s going out for another meal after their Chinese take out with Psi and Saibra. The Doctor then pulls her leg that food eaten on the TARDIS doesn’t count, she asks if he’s kidding and in his deadpan straight delivery he points out that he’s kidding. Their dialogue gets very interesting as they then banter back and forth again. Doctor: Bye-bye

Clara: See ya. Don’t rob any banks. Doctor: Don’t rob any banks what?

Doctor looks directly at Clara as she pauses and then nods as she replies. Clara: Without me.

Doctor: ‘course not boss.

Clara exits the TARDIS, you hear the door shutting. Doctor: Robbin’ a bank. Robbin’ a whole bank.

Which leads to:

The camera then pans out and he walks to the TARDIS control panel and pulls the lever. The Doctor is in a good mood, just watch how he walks up to that console with confidence and kicks his leg up with a flourish.

And he’s pretty much in the same pose that Clara was in when she showed off her heels to him when he first asks if she is taller.

So what does this mean? It means that the Doctor clearly saw their bank robbing adventure as a date. It was an adventure and everything went well and he got to have hours of time with Clara before her date with Danny. He won Clara’s attention over Danny.

I see two possibilities i.) he was still oblivious to Clara’s plans being a date and he only recognizes this as a fact when she says so or

ii.) he’s a clever 2000 year old Time Lord and damn well knew she had a date, but he just pretended to not recognize her date b/c he had much better dates planned for them. If he doesn’t acknowledge her dates with Danny than they don’t exist since she’s having all of these “dates” with him.

The 12th Doctor is a very competitive individual, the 10th Doctor also had a similar streak in him to out compete others but 12 is so obvious with his. Therefore, he will compete with every man who vies for Clara’s attention by default. She’s his friend, he cares about her and he actually needs her to care about him and give him the attention he desires from her.

After “Time Heist” the Doctor is bolder and 100% confident in his invitations to Clara.

In “The Caretaker” we get a fast montage of Doctor & Clara adventures wedged in between her dates with Danny. Or are her dates with Danny wedged between her time with the Doctor?

They are stuck on a desert planet and chained to some pillars. Clara apologies to Danny for being late which he notices she isn’t late and she’d gained a tan in a few hours.

The next scene shows her coming out of her bedroom which is across from her living room where the Doctor likes to park the TARDIS. As she comes out her bedroom door, she is clearly dressed up for a date with Danny. Across in her living room he says “Fish people.”

Clara asks what they are like to which the Doctor replies:

He’s got her attention completely, he’s leaning forward his left hand gesturing to her. He then moves his hand towards the TARDIS beckoning her to “Come and see.” Without hesitation she hops into the TARDIS. The next scene shows her getting into a taxi wet as Danny compliments her dress and notices that she’s wet which she explains is a freak shower. She then tries to be casual as she pulls the strand of seaweed out of her hair.

It jumps to a scene of them running in some sort of corridor being shot at by laser guns/blasters as the Doctor then declares he hates soldiers and asks for Clara to agree with him, which she does. With their standard case of running from danger she then gets to open her door to Danny who wants her to go for a morning run with her perhaps on the weekend? Post run Clara declares that she can’t keep doing this - her time with the Doctor is making her time with Danny difficult and it is exhausting as well as hard to explain all the oddities with her in regards to their dates. As Clara calms down she relaxes and declares that she can do this. She’s got everything under control.

And this IS Clara. She has to make sure that everything she does is how she wants it to go.

The next time she willingly enters the TARDIS prepared for an adventure and the Doctor apologizes that there will be no trip today by trying to flatter her because he thinks it works on her. Their body language is interesting as she approaches him as he backs away from her and moves the display monitor at the same time.

They keep their distance from each other for awhile until he stops and explains that he’s going undercover and can’t tell her what it is. The entire time their body language is cat and mouse and she even tries to sneak a look at the monitor before he flips it off. Clara tells the Doctor that he’s being mysterious and goes on to say that as he is a clever person, he is making the mistake of thinking that she is stupid. Clara then points out that he likely can’t do undercover and teases him. He angrily snaps his fingers to open the doors and tells her that he will see her when he sees her. Clara sasses back “When’s that?”, clicking her fingers and shutting the doors forcing him to reopen them repeating that it will be “When I see you!”

She suspiciously strolls around him as she slowly exits the TARDIS and even reopens the door trying to get a look at the monitor as she points out non-verbally that she’s watching him.

The interaction between Clara and the Doctor then is repeated with Danny. He asks if she’s okay since he’s observed that every time he sees her (on dates) she comes to the rushed, in a state, or with a space helmet. Clara tries to blow off his comments by referring to her relationship with the Doctor as a “thing” that she’s had, but doesn’t have currently. Danny doesn’t buy this and reminds her that he isn’t stupid.

So Clara tries to do the exact same things to Danny that the Doctor tries to do to her. The Doctor is beating out Danny when it comes to their dates every single time.

The morning teachers meeting then introduces the Doctor as the new caretaker. Then in front of all of the teachers he introduces himself and winks right at Clara and smiles proudly in her direction! He’s thinking he’s so smooth!

Clara is shocked and the Doctor seems to be giving off the vibe of “Look at how awesome I am undercover Clara! Impressed aren’t you? You are impressed. Tell me you are impressed.”

This entire non-verbal exchange is hilarious because the Doctor is so into his undercover disguise that he thinks he’s all suave and awesome and look at how playful he is. This is the Doctor who when he first regenerated wasn’t sure how to be happy or fun and was scared about getting coffee or chips. Now he’s hamming it up as he’s more confident with Clara. Of course as he keeps going on about how no one is noticing him he boldly lets Clara know that his deep cover is awesome as she angrily gives him a hard time. On top of that, Danny immediately picks up that she knows him as she tries to ignore that he winked at her. When she finally goes back to confront him, he uses his broom to keep her away from him as he remarks that she saw right through his deep cover. He won’t give her any details, but it is clear enough that she knows he’s doing something that has to do with aliens. Due to his status being undercover he tries very hard to push her away and not give her anymore information since whatever the situation is, he will be able to manage it himself. This episode also builds up the tension between the Doctor and Danny. This is highlighted by the fact that as soon as he learns that was in the military the Doctor judges him and makes him a P. E. teacher implying he doesn’t like him and dislikes P. E. teachers as well. Clara puts a lot of effort trying to get the Doctor to realise that Danny is linked to her timeline from “listen” and I’m going to say that the Doctor likely on some level knows there is something with Danny but he’s too judgemental and stubborn to admit it. He argues that Orson Pink doesn’t look like Danny. This could be him just being oblivious but he follows it up by questioning Clara’s observation that Orson Pink must be related to Danny. Adding in that “Who remembers their P.E. teacher?” This statement is contradictory since the Doctor has just associated Orson with Danny (with his nickname of P.E.) and then his statement implies that Danny is totally forgettable. The Doctor even then uses this as a segue way to asking if “he” is here. The one guy that she keeps going on serious dates with? The Doctor doesn’t even look at her when they are talking and she looks very happy during his question.

I wonder if her happy/pleased look is because she’s happy the Doctor is asking her about her personal life? She asks him if he’ll start talking like a human being if she reveals the man to which the Doctor retorts he won’t because he’s being nice.

This then leads to the mix-up where the Doctor thinks she’s seeing the other english teacher who looks like the 11th Doctor. When Clara finally gets him to tell her about his plan, since she knows him well enough to conclude that his plan is dangerous and may involve the school she is annoyed that he keeps it from her in the first place. Though this is in part due to her conclusion because she will disapprove it, he just won’t say anything to prevent her being the boss of him. The Doctor after explaining about the Skovox blitzer that he has a plan and it requires his special watch. He dramatically poses looking right at Clara before he uses it to make himself invisible.

Upon being invisible he then flicks Clara’s nose. She is briefly annoyed but very quickly she goes from being annoyed that he didn’t share things with her to being completely excited by his invisible watch. Thus, the Doctor and Clara are playing with each other again, as he hides from her in plain sight and she loves it.

This is a person who is having a blast. She’s so excited that she even giggles and she says its incredible. The invisible Doctor then states that “Correct. I am both invisible and incredible.” And the two of them start feeding off of each others excitement and she’s ready to help out with capturing the alien.

But the Doctor let’s her know he’s got this one figured out and that she doesn’t need to worry. Instead, he jumps to telling her their next trip will be to ancient Egypt and that she should go canoodle with her boyfriend.

And then the two of them make incorrect assumptions as the Doctor tells her that he knows who she is dating through vague terms that describe the 11th Doctor and the english teacher while Clara thinks he’s referring to Orson Pink in regards to Danny. Clara then takes his advice and runs off to actually follow his advice since the Doctor is insisting she hang out with her boyfriend.

The situation becomes a comedy of errors as Danny cancels on Clara so that he can watch the Doctor and at the same time Clara runs to the Doctor as soon as Danny cancels on her. No date, the only other thing for Clara to do is to hang out with the Doctor and help him out!

Of course Danny messes with the Doctor’s plans and when he figures out that Clara and the Doctor know each other and worse, Danny calls him her Dad. They both look mortified in response to this comment.

And then the totally awkward moment begins as the Doctor decides to erase his memory - and Clara stops him by pointing out that Danny is her boyfriend. The Doctor has the gall to say he isn’t her boyfriend and that she’s made a boyfriend error - she would not date a P.E. teacher or soldier. To rub the salt in Danny’s wounds he suggests that Clara get a dog or a big plant instead.

Ouch.

The Doctor is hurt and upset; this version of the Doctor can be cruel when he’s upset. She argues back that she loves him and then the Doctor is stunned.

He’s so upset that you can see the shock, hurt, and pure disappointment in his face. He would have been okay with the 11th Doctor look-alike as the boyfriend since she’d be dating a ‘version’ of himself.

The Doctor is literally holding back tears here. He looks at Clara, then to Danny, then back to Clara has he has to actually compose his thoughts.

Clara said that she loved Danny. His only retort is “Why would you say that? Is this a part of the surprise play?”

He’s devastated. Clara has just openly said that she loves someone - and that person isn’t the Doctor. Clara stuck with the Doctor after he regenerated and has still be traveling with him and they have grown even closer as a result.

At this point it is clear that the 12th Doctor doesn’t just want Clara to see him as a boyfriend like 11. He loves her. And to hear her tell him that she loves another person, he just can’t handle it.

This version of the Doctor is terrible with his feelings or expressing them well. Additionally, he isn’t good at reading others as he gets upset and tells her it is a roller coaster while he asks why she isn’t dating the bow tie guy as Clara says that he “isn’t her type” (perhaps evidence that she did not see 11 as a boyfriend) and also implies that if 11 isn’t her type - what is her type? At the same time Danny is also reeling from the fact that there is this man, called the Doctor, who is an alien who hangs out with Clara and is clearly very involved with, but never mentioned once. Interestingly, without missing a beat, the Doctor reveals the TARDIS and then Clara begins to explain it, but she whispers to the Doctor what else to say and he tells her to lead to the line that “it is bigger on the inside than on the outside.” Even then when Clara needs a hand the Doctor immediately helps her out even after being hurt so much. Despite seeing the TARDIS, Danny is not convinced by the Doctor’s plans and they immediately argue until he passes Danny off to Clara to deal with as they debate what to do while Danny is completely ignored. As the Doctor bitches about having tons of work to do, Clara asks him if he’s okay. She doesn’t ask Danny, instead she asks the Doctor - likely since he’s upset about how things went wrong and he learned that Clara loves Danny.

Clara then works on getting Danny out of the Doctor’s way and he tells her that Clara still needs to finish the job. She told Danny about the Doctor without explaining Danny to him. He’s right, but his attitude is incredibly aggressive and the Doctor is really hurt. Danny was upset that Clara never told him about the Doctor and it is clear this hurt is vice versa but that the Doctor likely feels like he is owed more since he’s known Clara much longer than Danny. After this completely horrible interaction/nightmare for Clara as Danny and the Doctor have met and it didn’t go well - she is dying for Danny to say something. He summarizes what to Doctor looks but it leads to a very interesting conversation between them. Danny: then he turned into a Scottish care taker and every now and then, when I’m not looking, you elope with him . . . Clara: I don’t elope.

Danny: Do you love him?

Clara: No.

Danny: Really had enough of the lies. Clara: Not in that way. Danny: What other way is there?

Clara: You know what I mean.

Danny: I don’t know what you mean. I know what you tell me isn’t always the truth.

With these lines from Danny it is clear that, i.) he sees that the Doctor is a man who is competing for Clara’s attention with him [which is true].

ii.) he sees that she loves him and he can’t separate the type of love that she feels for Danny and the Doctor.

iii.) by telling her that he knows she’s lying, he’s thinking that she may love the Doctor more than him. Maybe?

This leads into their further conversation where Clara tells him that he knows who she is - but Danny wants to know who she is - when she’s with him. When she is with the Doctor. Which implies that Danny knows that there is a part of Clara that only comes out with the Doctor.

Clara’s clever plan is to have Danny use the invisible watch so he can see that Clara is the same with the Doctor as with him. Just like with the 9th Doctor and Mickey who he called Ricky - the 12th calls Danny Dave instead. Of course the Doctor figures out that Danny is in the TARDIS with them and he tries to distract Clara by saying he’s bored and that he’ll get her back just in time like he has for all of her previous dates.

The Doctor plays dirty as he reminders her that she’s never said “. . .no before, even in the middle of dinner [implied dinner date I take it].” Clara does her best to prevent him from traveling with Danny in the TARDIS and it results in the explosive argument where the Doctor and Danny go straight for each other since neither of them can stand the other. Danny sees the Doctor as an elite and the Doctor thinks Danny isn’t good enough for Clara as a former soldier.

Yes, Danny helps to save the day and Clara is caught between the Doctor and Danny vying for her attention as Danny concludes that he has to be good enough for the Doctor to approve of him. Neither man looks at each other as the Doctor does accept the fact that Danny helped to save the world.

The episode ends with Clara and Danny relaxing as she tries to get Danny to agree with her that the Doctor is a good guy underneath everything and she reveals that she trusts him. Danny wants Clara to trust him and since he knows men like the Doctor he doesn’t want her to become hurt as a result of the Doctor’s actions.

This is interesting since the Doctor obviously wouldn’t want to hurt Clara, the Doctor has always wanted to protect his friends yet this sets up further conflict between the Doctor and Danny.

What I find interesting about Danny is that he assumes that Clara isn’t choosing to do things with the Doctor of her own choice and free will. She does trust him and does crazy things - but from her perspective she’ll be alright - something that Danny does not agree with.

By the end of this episode, the Doctor’s view of his relationship with Clara has been shattered. The man she is dating is NOT the type of man he’d like her to date and it also means that Clara doesn’t feel confident to come clean to her about him. Danny is very upset about her lies to him. Yet, he doesn’t realize that the Doctor is even more hurt and upset about her lies to him. She has know Danny a much shorter time than the Doctor. All around the end of “The Caretaker” leaves everyone completely unhappy and disgruntled.

Clara’s conversation with Danny about her own feelings for the Doctor are unclear to me. Is she denying that she loves the Doctor? Does she not want to admit that she has deep feelings for this Doctor? Or is she uncomfortable with putting a label on their relationship which would the force her to define it. At the end of “Time Heist” the Doctor has defined their activity as a date. He has defined their relationship to himself but not to her.

At the same time, I think Clara refuses to label or recognize their relationship. This would imply that Clara would have to first off define the relationship to herself and then define it to the Doctor and then to others. It is easier for Clara to retreat to a relationship with Danny since he is much less complicated than the Doctor.

What this shows is that at this point in time the Doctor and Clara are failing to communicate with each other even though it is evident that they are in a relationship of some sort, that includes love and crazy dates. I’ll pick up with part 2 starting with episode 7.

#doctor who #doctor who meta #twelfth doctor #12th doctor #clara oswald #twelve x clara #danny pink

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katedoesfics · 4 years

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Lacuna | Chapter 8

It took a few hours, but after popping a few pills and falling back asleep, Kahli was feeling a little better by the late morning. She managed to pull herself together enough to trudge up to the tree farm, but to her surprise, someone had already set up the waterwheel. All that was left was to connect the water to the sprinkler system in the farm.

She stared at the set up by the lake for a moment until Dawa approached her.

“Looks like you’re almost done,” he said happily.

Kahli turned to him. “Who did this?”

Dawa raised a brow. “Uh. You did?”

Kahli shook her head.

Dawa shrugged. “I dunno,” he said. “I’m just getting up here, now. I thought you were working on it all morning.”

Kahli turned back to the wheel, examining it. She couldn’t think of anyone who would have the ability to get this much work done. And it looked to be in working order. All she had to do was connect the engine and get it started. She decided not to question it and chalked it up to little builder fairies that decided to give her a break, and she spent the rest of the afternoon finishing the job. By the evening, the irrigation system was complete and the sprinklers gave the trees much needed water.

The following day, Kahli found herself a rare moment to herself. But instead of sniffing around the Commerce Guild for more work, she decided to take advantage of the day, making her way to the ranch to visit Emily for a change. She was chasing after some baby chicks when Kahli walked over, and she blew her hair out of her face in exasperation. She put her hands on her hips and grinned.

“Look who made it to our neck of the woods.”

“You look like you need a hand,” Kahli said.

Emily’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Kinda. Gotta gather up these little guys and bring ‘em back into their coop.”

Kahli watched one of the chicks hop over to her, and she bent down and picked it up carefully.

“That was hard,” Kahli said with a smirk. She brought the chick up to her face and scratched it’s little head with her finger. It chirped loudly until she brought it back to the cage with its friends.

“Oh, sure, you make it look so easy,” Emily said. She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Chicken Lady, gimme a hand.”

With Kahli’s help, they had gathered the rest of the escaped chicks and brought them back to the coop where they pecked eagerly at the ground with the mother hens.

“And you thought you were getting a day off,” Emily said.

“Ah, I don’t mind,” Kahli said. “They’re pretty cute.”

“So, how was yesterday? Were you as sick as I was?” Emily laughed.

“I didn’t even remember coming home.”

Emily nudged her with her elbow. “Did you wake up with a certain someone in bed?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Alright, alright,” Emily said. “I’m done with the Arlo bit. I’ll leave you alone. I think you got it bad enough the other night, anyway.”

“I think you should go back to Antoine and Dr. Xu.”

Emily nodded. “Oh, I’m sure we will.” To Kahli’s relief, she changed the subject. “So. You want a couple of chicks? I could spare a couple as payment for helping me, if you want.”

“I don’t know how to take care of chickens,” Kahli said.

“They’re easy,” Emily explained. “Throw ‘em some grain and make sure they have water. Wait for ‘em to pop out some eggs, and voila, breakfast!”

“Really?”

“Really, really,” Emily nodded. “And I’ll even help ya build a coop.”

Within the hour, there were a dozen chicks and six ducklings running around Kahli’s yard, and she and Emily were staring at a pile of wood, hammers in their hands.

“Have you built a coop before?” Kahli asked.

“Well, no,” Emily started. “But, I mean, come on, it’s just like, a box, right? How hard can it be? You built a damn bridge, I think you can handle a coop. It’s just gotta not fall apart.”

“Oh, of course,” Kahli rolled her eyes. “I thought we could just leave it as a pile of wood.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” Emily said. “Your snark level is at max today.”

Kahli grinned. “Alright,” she started. “We should start with the walls. Put a couple boards together like this, right?” She lined a few boards side by side. “And we can hold ‘em together with this longer board, like this.”

“Obviously,” Emily said. “You do a side and I’ll do a side.”

They set to work, each building a side, and when the sides were completed, they worked on the back piece. They fit the three sides together, then closed it in with a fourth wall with a square doorway. Emily fastened a ramp leading out of the doorway, and Kahli enclosed the coop area, giving the flock an outdoor space. By evening, the coop was complete and Kahli’s new flock was pecking happily at their grain.

Emily brushed her hands together as they admired their work.

“Well, whadda ya know,” she said. “Maybe I can be a builder, too!”

“You’d probably do better than me,” Kahli said.

“Okay, enough of the pity party. You’ve done a hell of a lot in the three weeks you’ve been here, so shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Emily grinned. “Good. Drinks?”

Kahli followed her into town where a crowd had gathered. It was Sunday night, and she had completely forgotten about the weekly meetings that Mayor Gale held in the plaza. He was just beginning to speak when they joined.

“We are aware of some thefts this week,” Gale said. “These actions will not be tolerated in our town! We will investigate this to the end and capture the perpetrator.”

“Must be Huss and Tuss again,” Martha said with a roll of her eyes.

“Those idiots never give up,” Higgins muttered, and the rest of the town broke out into murmurs of complaints.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this as soon as possible,” Mayor Gale assured them. “Arlo will be spearheading this investigation, so you folks can rest assured!”

“Great,” Kahli muttered. “And I don’t think my doors lock.”

“Good to know,” Emily said.

“Jokes on you. I have no possessions. I barely have a pillow.”

Emily laughed. “Maybe I should break in and leave you something, then.”

“Can it be a million gols?”

“Maybe two.”

The crowd dispersed, and to no surprise, most of them headed for the Round Table for the evening. Kahli and Emily joined them, sitting at the bar beside Antoine. Sonia was behind the counter and served them drinks as soon as they sat. Kahli looked around the room quickly.

“Ya boy’s not here,” Sonia said.

Kahli blushed and drank quickly. “I’m not - no - shut up.”

Sonia grinned and left them alone at the bar to tend to the other patrons.

“But Dr. Xu is,” Antoine said dreamily. He turned in his seat and drank, looking over his glass to where the town doctor sat.

“Stop being a creeper,” Emily said.

Antoine shrugged. “So I appreciate good looking men. Kahli and I both do.”

“Oh, so now you’re on the Arlo train, too?” Emily moaned.

“There’s no train,” Kahli muttered, but no one was listening.

“I know a good looking guy when I see one,” Antoine said with a shrug. “But the brave, rugged, adventurous thing isn’t my type. He’s all Kahli’s.”

“Guess I’m getting shitfaced again,” Kahli said to her drink.

“In my defense,” Emily started, “I didn’t bring it up. I was trying to give Antoine shit.”

Antoine offered Kahli an apologetic smile. “So, what fun projects they’ve got you working on?” Antoint said.

“Uh.” Kahli hesitated. “I built a chicken coop.”

“Yup,” Emily confirmed. “All by herself.”

“I heard you were able to help Dawa and Aadit a few times.”

Kahli nodded. “Yup.”

“Well, you’re exciting,” Antoine muttered.

Kahli sighed and swirled the liquid in her glass. “Aren’t I?” She blew her bangs out of her face. “I should have run off to be some adventurer or something, too.”

“Apparently it runs in the family,” Emily said.

“Why would you want to do that when you can be here drinking with us? An added bonus is that it’s much safer than the rest of the world. Some people like not dying.”

“Or they live for the thrill of the risk,” Emily said. She put her chin in her palm and sighed. “Seeing all kinds of crazy new things. Never knowing what the next day will be like.”

Kahli and Antoine blinked at her and she met their gaze.

“What?”

Kahli grinned and sipped from her drink. “Daydreaming of being an adventurer?”

“That’s new,” Antoine muttered.

“Eh.” Emily drank. “I dunno. Maybe. I guess I kinda wanted to live that life, you know, when I was younger. But Granny needed me here.”

“I did not know this about you,” Antoine said. “Maybe you should get with Arlo instead and you guys can go adventuring together.”

Emily scoffed. “Please. I can’t take Kahli’s man from her like that.”

“He’s not my man!” she barked loudly, then shrank in her seat and finished her drink. “You people don’t let things go, do you?”

Emily sighed. “I need to get laid.”

“You and me both,” Antoine muttered.

“Oh, hell,” Kahli said. “Me too.”

#lacuna #lacuna8 #mtap #my time at portia #fic #fanfic

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zombiesbecrazy · 5 years

Text

new traditions from the stars

Summary: The problem was that neither Bruce or Alfred knew quite what to do with bedtime and often resulted in young Master Bruce in tears and Alfred frustratingly close to it himself.

AO3

Alfred sighed into his cup of over-brewed tea, trying to sort out what he would do next. Just as Bruce had been ill prepared and far too young to lose his parents in such a traumatic way, Alfred was struggling equally with how to care for a distraught nine year old who was suddenly in his care and he constantly felt like his was drowning without a liferaft in sight. When Martha and Thomas had first asked him to be the guardian of Bruce if anything should ever happen to them, Alfred had readily agreed without a second thought. Why wouldn’t he? People agreed to such a thing every day. It was expected that parents have plans for such things, but it was mostly symbolic.

No one ever expects it to really come into reality.

There were moments that Alfred spent alone in his apartment in the manor, when Bruce was otherwise occupied or late in the night when he would lie on his bed, and allow is mind to wander to the dark places of grief that he pushed aside during the day. The space where for a moment he would permit the unspeakable thoughts to leak out. Why had he said yes to Martha? Would Bruce be better off somewhere else? How on earth could he raise a child? What would happen if he simply ran away, abandoning the child and all associated liabilities? He was just an employee, would anyone blame him if he did? He’d never act on them, of course, but he couldn’t help where his mind wandered when he was alone in the dark. He then felt awful even thinking of them because if he was thinking that way, what could the young boy be thinking? Where were his own grief stricken thoughts taking him?

He allowed himself one week of such private thoughts before he pushed them out of his mind completely and decided that the best way to move on would be to throw himself into his new normal at top speed, with Bruce being the priority in his life.

Alfred grabbed onto every sort of parenting reference guide that he could find. He set up appointments with a child psychologist for Bruce in attempt to help him with his grieving process and then met with the same doctor separately to discuss what he could do to help assist the child better. He attended sessions about people dealing with ghastly events to see if he could learn from anyone there. He reached out to his friends but none of them were of much help because while some of them did have children, they didn’t have fully formed traumatized pre adolescents just thrust into their lives without much warning or preparation. He could parse ideas together from multiple sources but in the end there wasn’t a specific handbook for ‘caring for a child who’s famous parents were murdered in front of him and is now at the center of a media storm’. Everything that he was going to try was trial and error, which the psychologist pointed out that that was what all parenting was all about.

Alfred coughed uncomfortably at the word parent. It didn’t sit right with him.

In the end, he was just making it up as he went along and hoping that everyone was none the wiser for it.

Life moved on eventually, though it was at a snail’s pace and sometimes that snail occasionally moved backwards. It had taken some time, and a bit of up and down, but they had finally adjusted and fell into a sort of routine. Bruce had yet to go back to school, but they had a tutor come in and work with him in the mornings to keep up to date with his school work, and in the afternoons he would read or play quietly with his toys. Alfred didn’t know if it was normal behaviour or not, and if it was normal behaviour he wasn’t sure if Bruce was just doing those things so that he was pretending to be fine. He didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. They had reached a sort of balance and he hated to disrupt it by shaking it too hard.

For all the quiet and peace, there was one moment every date that was the exact opposite and Alfred was at his wits end.

The problem was that neither Bruce or Alfred knew quite what to do with bedtime and often resulted in young Master Bruce in tears and Alfred frustratingly close to it himself. Whatever they did, they couldn’t get it right.

The books all told him that nine was fairly old to be having arguments about going to bed, but Alfred could understand where it had come from. In a life that could be chaotic and inconsistent with events and priorities, Bruce was used to things being thrown at him and having to adapt at a moments notice. The one thing that never changes was the bedtime routine, no matter what time Bruce went to bed. There was a specific routine for bedtime that had always been followed and without it, he was floundering. It was even worse when Alfred tried to replicate it because even if it was a perfect pattern (maybe more so in those cases), it just rang even truer that his parents were gone, specifically his mother. She wasn’t there to tuck him in, read together for a while, plug in his nightlight and tell him that she loved him as she had every night for as long as Bruce, or Alfred, could remember. It was small and simple, but it seemed to be the thing that mattered most in the world to Bruce and he couldn’t let go of it.

Now every night was a battle. Bruce would scream, hide, cry, barter, and beg to not go to bed and Alfred had no idea what he could do to settle the child. He had tried everything that he could think of, what everyone else had suggested to him, and nothing worked, leaving him stumped and exhausted at the mere thought of the clock striking nine.

It shouldn’t be so hard, putting a child in his bed to go to sleep.

He drained the dregs of his tea, washed the cup and saucer quickly and set on his nightly mission to find Bruce to start the task of getting him into his bed. The boy had a few places that he liked to haunt in the evening after dinner, and Alfred was not surprised to find him in the library, but until like most nights when he was curled up in a chair reading a book, instead he was standing near the window, looking through Thomas’ telescope.

He looked so calm and peaceful, relaxed as he examined the night sky and Alfred hesitated, not wanting to start the inevitable fight that bedtime would bring.

Maybe tonight they would try something completely different.

“Would you like to sit outside with me for awhile, Master Bruce?”

Bruce turned away from the telescope and eyed Alfred with scrutiny, which was an odd expression to see on a child. He seemed to be trying to figure out if it was trick or not, knowing that it was time for their daily battle. Curiosity overruled suspicion in the end and the child nodded in agreement.

“Go fetch your jumper and mittens then. There’s a chill this evening.” Bruce scurried out of the room, and Alfred called after him. “I’ll meet you in the side garden.”

Alfred took a detour back into the kitchen, prepared some quick snacks, pulled on a cardigan and went through the doors into the garden. Bruce was already there, sitting on the loveseat, with a large blanket that looked like it had been taken from the linen closet in his parents room over him. When he spotted Alfred, he shifted over on the cushions and hesitantly pulled back the cover, inviting Alfred to sit next to him.

Alfred settled beside him and offered him a thermos and a spice cookie. “Hot chocolate?”

“Thank you,” whispered Bruce, taking a sip of his drink, smiling at the taste and he looked out over the yard, into the shadows of the trees. Alfred often wondered what the boy thought about when he spaced out like that. He was bright, but not prone to sharing his thoughts with anyone, preferring to be introspective about them.

It was a dark, clear night, with the sky open and filled with stars being so far out of the city. It was interesting, how much the sky could look the same and yet so different no matter where you stood on earth. There was something peaceful about being able to look up and see the stars no matter where he was that Alfred found comforting. England, America, Japan. All had stars if you knew where to look and it gave him a sense of belonging.

“Did I ever tell you that when I was your age I wanted to be an archaeologist?” Alfred asked softly, looking up at the stars. He saw Bruce shake his head out of the corner of his eyes and he nodded. “Before that I was fascinated with dinosaurs and I suspect it was the next step. I wanted to dig into the dirt and learn about times gone past. Eventually it shifted again to being obsessed with classical history and Greek mythology for a time.” He rested an arm on the back of the chair behind Bruce, not quite touching him, not doing anything that could be described as a hug, but the open invitational clear of the bond that they were trying to forge. “That is when I learned about constellations and their stories.” Alfred looked up, trying to see if anything caught his eye before he pointed a bit east of where they were sitting. “Do you see that star there? The bright one? That’s Vega and it’s part of the constellation Lyra. If you connect the dots there,” Alfred took Bruce’s mittened hand and slowly outlined where he was referring to “you can possibly see a lyre. It’s like a small harp.” Bruce stared up at the sky for a few minutes, turning his head this way and that before finally nodding. Alfred wasn’t sure that he actually spotted the pattern, as it was rather obscure, but it didn’t really matter. “It was given to Orpheus by Apollo. Orpheus was a musician and a poet, but he also went on many journeys and adventures. He was one of Jason’s Argonauts, travelling the seas and battling mythical beasts, but the story that he is most famous for is when he went to the underworld to try and rescue his wife Eurydice after she had died. He used his music to impress Hades and Persephone and convinced them to let him bring Eurydice back to Earth, but the condition was that he had to walk in front of her the entire way, and he couldn’t look back until they were both at the surface or she would disappear forever.” This probably wasn’t the best story for him to tell a young grieving child, but it couldn’t possibly make their regular bedtime routine any worse than normal, and it was unlikely to cause any new mental scars, so they carried on.

“And did he? Did he save her?” Bruce was staring at Vega, lost look in his eyes, and leaned a little into Alfred’s side, resting his head on his shoulder as he watched the sky. Alfred took it as a sign that Bruce was seeking out a little more affection than normal tonight, and shifted his arm from the back of the chair and gently placed them around Bruce’s shoulders and rubbed his arm on top of the blanket, Bruce humming at the gesture.

“Unfortunately he did not.” Alfred said in resignation before he took a sip of his own drink. “He reached the surface and was so excited that he turned around without realizing that since she was walking behind him she was not yet there. She vanished.”

Bruce nodded in understanding and turned his head from the stars and stared back into the woods, in the direction of the old abandoned well that he had once fallen into. “Then what happened?” The inevitable what now of the story. It was something that Alfred thought about a lot in regards to themselves. What was he supposed to do next? They may have a tentative pattern for now, built on a fragile house of cards, but what were they going to do for Bruce’s first birthday without his parents? Going back to school? Holidays? First relationship? There were heaps of things that neither of them were prepared for and neither of them had ever expected to be going through them together.

But they were both going to have to make do.

“Orpheus continued on with his life. It wasn’t always happy, he felt scorned by the gods, but he kept fighting. He kept persevering, living his life the best way that made sense to him. Not all agreed with him and in the end he paid for it with his life, though the cause of death varies depending on the source. In some retellings he was reunited with Eurydice in death. After he died, Zeus and the muses placed his lyre in the sky for all to see.”

“That isn’t a very happy story.” It didn’t seem to be a criticism, just an observation

“That is true, but like life, not all stories have a happy ending. I like it as a story of perseverance. Orpheus got knocked down and he always got back up even if he was unhappy with his lot in life.” He looked down at Bruce who met his gaze with interest. “He reminds me a little of you.”

Bruce said nothing, turning back to look at the sky again, leaning against Alfred and snuggled warmly into the blanket and under Alfred’s strong arm. They sat in near silence with only the sounds of nature around them, cricket chirping and rustling leaves, until Alfred heard a soft snore escape the blanket, Bruce resting against him, eyes closed and breathing deeply in sleep. He looked smaller than he did when he was awake, stress and grief eased from the corners of his features that haunted him during the day when he was awake.

It was the first time that Bruce had peacefully drifted off to sleep in months.

Alfred carefully lifted up the boy, wrapped carefully in the blanket, carried him into the house, up to his room, and tucking him into his bed with great care to not wake him. Bruce curled deeper under the blankets and let out another snore once in his bed.

It was a bedtime without a fight, tears or battle. It was a small victory, but he had done it. This time Alfred did cry once he was back in the safety of his own apartment. He had done something right and he was flooded with the relief that he wasn’t an absolute failure at this guardian task.

There was no mention of it the next morning, when Bruce came down for breakfast at the table, nor after his session with the tutor or dinner, but when the clock in the study chimed nine o’clock, Alfred found himself with a visitor in the kitchen as he finished his evening cup of tea. Bruce had the blanket in his hand and a nervous expression on his face.

“I was wondering if you’d like to sit outside with me tonight? And maybe tell me another story about the stars?” He was hesitant in the question, but his eyes were hopeful, hopeful that whatever had worked the previous night would possibly work again.

“Of course, Master Bruce. Just let me prepare some hot chocolate and I’ll join you in a minute.”

Alfred stood by the kettle, waiting for the water to point as he watched the boy settle down on the love seat, arranging the blanket just so and leaving space beside him for Alfred. He had seemed better today, lighter. Alfred thought that it was because he had finally gotten a decent night’s rest, but perhaps it was more than that. Maybe they had finally taken a step in the right direction in their new situation.

Maybe they just needed to stop making new patterns and start making new traditions instead.

#whumptober2019 #no.15 #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth

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mingiswow · 5 years

Text

Soulmate!au Series | Hyungwon

Pairing: Hyungwonx female reader

Summary: Soulmates were marked with matching tattoos when born, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that yours were something so vague as lips.

Words: + 2.2k

a/n: hey sweet cheeks, here’s another part of the soulmate series. I’m loving to write them so much and, so far, Hyungwon has been one of my faves to write. Hope you like this one and please help auntie Bruna and like, reblog and/or comment. Feedback is always welcomed. Love ya

You liked your job, you really did, it paid your bills after all. But there were days that everything seemed too much for you to handle, especially when the hotel received famous people that’d leave the rooms upside down for you and your partner to clean.

It was 4AM when you left the bus, saying your usual goodbye to the driver, and walking slowly through the street, enjoying the quietness before the storm of cars, bus, people and construction. You walked past the hotel, greeting the security before heading to the back of the building, doing the same path you did every day before getting to the changing room.

“Morning, babe cakes” Martha, your coworker and partner greeted you, her usual smile on her lips. “You heard about who’s coming today?” her voice muffled from her uniform on her head.

“Morning. Yeah, heard that they are some international singers, but not much more than that” you took your clothes off, folding them neatly and storing in your locker.

“Hey! Your tattoo is shining!” the woman spoke, getting closer to you and gently touching the drawing on your chest. “There are even the flowers blooming around! Do you think you’ll meet your soulmate soon?” your eyes trained to the spot, the reddish lips indeed glowing as the cherry blossoms grew around, closing the tattoo inside a heart-shaped frame.

The legend says that every human being in the world was destined to someone and those who two souls would connect through their complementary tattoos, placed on the left side of their chest, right on top of the heart. When your true-one love is close, the marks took a neon coloration, as they seemed to shine, and little flowers would grow around it, signaling the bloom of a new life. You never understood how they worked since they were complementary, not matching marks. Your mark could match with anything minimally related to lips, it could be a lipstick, some food, an instrument, musical notes. It could be so many things.

“It’s what it looks like” you simply said, covering the tattoo with your perfectly-white t-shirt. “Besides, you know I don’t have time to date or whatever right now. I have to work, study and take care of my dog” your coworker laughed.

“Oh, come on! You need to accept that one day you’ll meet them and God knows what you’ll have to do about it” you rolled your eyes to her.

Shaking away those intrusive thoughts about your future, you two finished putting your uniforms before heading to the kitchen to have breakfast with your other coworkers from that shift and start cleaning the rooms.

Being a maid in a hotel wasn’t what you dreamed for your life, whoever, you liked that place and the people who worked with you. You always had a great time with those people, especially Martha, who became like a mother to you since you were so far away from your own. When you left your hometown to go to the capital to try to become a model, everyone was against you but you decided not to listen to them and follow your dreams. It didn’t turn out very well, yes, you did a few photoshoots here and there, but it wasn’t what you imagined. But still was better than nothing.

The morning seemed to crawl as slowly as a slug. A weird pain on your body like someone was pinning your voodoo doll, especially your heart, but you decided to let it aside, it was probably just anxiety since you couldn’t take your conversation with Martha out of your mind and she wouldn’t shut up about your future lover and how they’d look and be.

“What if they are some royalty? Or what if they are some rich CEO?” she kept speculating about as she neatens up the wrinkles in the bed cover. “What if they are the homeless in the street? Would you love them anyway?” you simply rolled your eyes at her hypothesis, letting her speak alone.

It was about midday when your boss called you through your intercom. She seemed a little… exalted. You looked over to the woman as a plead for her to not let you go, but she couldn’t do a thing. You left her and the room you were cleaning behind to meet your boss at her office. You just wished no one complained about you and your services, you had a dog to raise.

You knocked on the door three times before you could hear some laughs and the woman speak with her usual happy and deep voice telling you to enter.

“Excuse me, Miss. Did you c-” your heart stung as you stepped inside the room, making your best effort to not let the pain show.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” the concern in her voice made you look to the floor, embarrassed for some reason.

“Yes, just a little pain but I’ll be good. Do you need me?” you recomposed yourself, your eyes meeting seven gorgeous men. Not any seven random men, but Monsta X members. Your heart started racing, your eyes never leaving them. You probably were making a fool of yourself. Your ultimate group was in front of you and you were all messed up from working, smelling like sanitary water and disinfectant.

“Oh yes, darling” the middle-aged woman clapped her hands. “This is Monsta X, but you young people might know already” she giggled excitedly and nodded to her, bowing to them as a greeting. “They are going to use our master suite for a photoshoot. Is everything clean there, sweetie?”.

“Yes, Martha and I just finished. I believe they can start taking the equipment and props to the room, miss” you answered trying to ignore the growing pain in your chest. You felt like you were about to fall, you couldn’t feel anything but the aching pain in your heart. Trying your best to hide the pain in your face, you bowed before leaving the room.

Your heart felt like leaving your chest, thumping hard, muscle against bones against muscles. Never in your entire life you felt such pain. It wasn’t bad though, it was just a sensation you had never felt. It was almost warm, welcoming. You decided to let it all go and go back to your work, it wasn’t time for you to daydream about those feelings.

You watch warned you and Martha that the morning shift was over and you were free to lunch, your stomach growling inside you.

“What do you have today?” your coworker asked sitting by your side and spying on your packed lunch.

“Just a sandwich, I’m not very hungry” you lied. You didn’t have much food left at home, and the money that you earned this month was already gone with the bills. Your stomach growled again and the woman looked at you, eyebrow raised form your lie. It wasn’t the first time that happened.

“Y/N… You need to stop lying to yourself” you looked over the triangular bread, it barely had some jelly on it. “You didn’t get any modeling work this month?” you denied, stuffing the dry bread on your mouth.

“It’s hard to get some when you have no agency and don’t look fancy and rich like the others” you sighed, looking over to the woman. “Nobody wants to hire me because I’m a nobody, I have nothing left, Martha, no food, no money, no family, it’s just me and Mong” Martha’s arms wrapped you in a tight hug, helping you through your tears.

“I’m so sorry dear, I wish I could help but you know that I have children on my own” you nodded.

“You don’t have to, you’re not my real mom” you kept crying on her embrace as the pain in your chest kept growing.

“Y/N” the voice of your boss startled you and you turned around to meet her and the boys again. “It’s everything fine?” you nodded, wiping the tears away.

“Can I help you with anything?”.

“You’re a model, right darling? The girl hired by the boys called it sick and now they need someone to be their model” your eyes sparkled, was she saying what you were thinking she was saying? “Can you do this? I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t know you are good at it” you smiled, both from happiness and nervousness.

“Yes, I sure can do” you lifted yourself from the chair and look at your state. “I just need a shower first” your cheeks reddened and, if it was possible, your chest seemed to hurt even more.

You quickly ran to the dressing rooms, taking a shower and making sure to take all that cleaning products’ smell out of your body, put on the clothes you arrived earlier.

You had never seen that suite so full of people and things. And, look, there were rock stars staying there. Cameras, scenarios, backgrounds, props, lights. It all made you more nervous than you already were. You were going to model. With your ultimate group. Smelling like cleaning products.

“Hello” you spoke, calling the people attention to yourself. You were sure that your chest was going to rip it open. “I’m Y/N… The new model” your voice sounded hesitant. Great. They were going to think you were unprepared. A woman came close to you and circled around your body, eyeing you up and down, before stopping in front of you.

“Let’s start with the leader” she simply said, a plain tone in her voice and no facial expression at all. Soon enough there were at least four people around you, putting on the clothes and making the adjustments for them to fit, doing your makeup and hair. “Are you ready, sweetie?” the woman came back, a camera on her neck, as she guided you to the first background, Shownu already positioning himself.

“Hi” you greeted him, bowing a little bit to the huge man standing in front of you. He smiled, greeting you back.

You two took enough pictures for a lifetime and it was just Shownu. As time was passing by and you were getting more confident on your poses, interacting with the leader, taking more intimate pictures.

“Ok, who’s next?” the photographer asked, seeing a very handsome Hyungwon lift his hand. You thought you’d never see him getting more perfect. But at that moment, with him in flesh and bones in front of you, wearing those flowy clothes that made him look with nothing but an angel, you were sure that you’re entire life was a lie. Hyungwon could get more perfect. “Great. Guys, dress Y/N up for Hyungwon concept” and soon again the stylists were around you again.

If for Shownu you were looking fearless and sexy, for Hyungwon you were ethereal. Your hair was curled to perfection, falling down your shoulders, they even put on some clip-on extensions to make it look longer and fuller. Your makeup was glittery, shades of light blue and pink perfectly mixing together. But nothing compared to your two-piece dress. The top was shoulderless, making your collarbones and soulmate tattoo show up, the sleeves were as flowy as the boy’s own shirt, a beautiful shade of off-white. The skirt was long, a long tail following behind. You looked like a princess angel. You were feeling gorgeous.

As you took your steps closer to Hyungwon, the chest pain started to increase, causing you to almost fall, your vision getting blurry.

“Ahn… What is going on?” Changkyun asked, looking over to both you and Hyungwon. “It’s what I’m thinking?” you didn’t have time to ask what he was thinking when a strong body grabbed yours and dragged somewhere.

Your pain started to warm up your whole body, and suddenly it wasn’t pain anymore. It became a soothing sensation like you were home in front of a fireplace and wrapped in a warm blanket.

You slowly opened your eyes to finally see what was going on. The sight got you by surprise. Your hands were wrapped around Hyungwon ones, a tiny red string tattooed around your ring finger as well on his, Your soulmate tattoo shining as bright as ever, a new design added to it: a green straw between the lips. Your eyes trailed from your chest to the boy’s one. Under his shirt, you could see the silhouette of the same tattoo glowing.

You blinked several times, not believing that. Destiny was motherfucking crazy.

“They’re soulmates” Wonho stated the obvious, his mouth hanging open, as well as everyone else.

“I…” the words didn’t leave his mouth, he was as surprised as you. “Hm… Hi… I’m Hyungwon” he shook your intertwined hands, his eyes fitting yours.

“I’m Y/N and I think I’m your soulmate” Martha squealed behind everyone and you all turned to her.

“OH MY GOD, Y/N! YOUR SOULMATE IS YOUR BIAS!” she screamed genuinely happy for you, your cheeks and ears burning red when he turned his eyes back to you.

“No words about that right now” you said. “I need to first digest the idea that I just met my soulmate and Gosh! You’re gorgeous” he chuckled at your sudden confession.

“If I can say so myself, you as gorgeous as me… soulmate” the words felt beautifully from his lips and it all felt like a dream.

You two lifted from the ground and his arms instantly hugged you, your chests touching your tattoos, the warmth radiating from it felt like home and the phrase “home is where the heart is” never felt more right in your life.

He left the embrace, his hands gently touching your cheeks, caressing them before bringing his face close to yours to finally kiss you and seal your future together.

Requests are open

Masterlist

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hereticpriest · 5 years

Text

Powdered Sugar Chapter 1

Polar AU

After retiring, Duncan runs into a young woman who has just moved into a house down the road from his. Her behaviour makes it clear she’s hiding something, or at least hiding from something. The question is, what?

Margaery ‘Minnie’ Davis hooks her thumbs in her belt loops as she surveys the state of her new property, occasionally blocked by the movers carrying her furniture into the house. She will have to do some heavy maintenance on the yard come spring, as it is absolutely overrun with dead and dormant plants. A loud bark draws her out of her thoughts, and she smiles at the massive leonberger running out of the trees.

“Hello my little lion cub. Did you finish your run around the property? Do you like our new home, Theo?” Minnie asks, squatting so she can kiss his forehead and ruffle his ears. She takes a second to remove a tag from his collar and replace it with a new one, then stands and encourages him to go continue exploring. She fetches a duffel bag from her black Jeep Wrangler, hooking it over her shoulder, then picks up a large gun case sized for a rifle and a smaller gun case more along the lines of a handgun size. The movers are carrying her gun safe into the house, and she asks them to put it near the door, keeping herself several feet away from the men at all times.

Once the last item is in the house, she places a couple of rolled bills on the back of the moving truck, then skirts around the men to head into the house. She puts her guns in the safe first, then sets her ammo safe in the front hall closet shelf. A titanium baseball bat is mounted beside the door, and a roll of hunting knives are dispersed around the house. She takes out a box with tangled wires and panels in it and begins to move around the house, setting up window alarms on each window, a security camera on the front porch, the back patio, and one to cover the main area of the cabin. She wires it all to a security panel, programs it, and finally collapses into one of the chairs set in her ‘living room’ area. Theo paws at the front door a few moments later, drawing her out of her stupor, and she crosses to it to let him in.

“Hello little lion.” Minnie hums, letting her dog into the house, shivering at the rush of cold air, and closing the door behind them. The fireplace is clean and usable, but she hasn’t lit it yet because she hasn’t got any wood chopped. Theo lays on the plush rug, wiggling against it, then relaxing. His fur will keep him warm, but Minnie doesn’t have the same luxury.

“Damnit.”

Minnie heads out to the wood pile with her axe, swinging it lazily with one hand, though she drops at when she hears the soft bang of a cabin door opening in the distance. She twists, black curls bouncing around her head, and meets the eyes of a man at the cabin next to hers. Even across a good half-acre distance, she could see the cherry of his cigarette and his dark, sad eyes. Minnie swallows, takes a deep breath to steel herself, then lifts the axe out of the snow and places a log on her chopping block. She grunts as she slams the axe down, splitting the wood easily. Practiced. The next log goes up, another grunt, and the log splits. Minnie begins to sweat, and she shrugs off her thick wool coat, tossing it onto the stairs to her porch. Underneath, she wears a black, cotton, ¾ sleeve shirt that stretches to cover her ample chest, and a pair of simple jeans that cling to her legs. Her hiking boots are black and worn with age.

From his cabin nearby, Duncan watches the woman as he has been since the moving trucks pulled up. She slams the axe into the chopping block, loads her arms with wood, and walks up the steps to the house. A pause, and then she’s back outside to put her coat back on and light a cigarette. Her dog follows, circling her once before running off to frolic in the snow. He can’t say he doesn’t want to meet the woman. She’s beautiful, capable, and she’s going to be his neighbour so he might as well get to know her. So, when her dog begins to jump in snow piles, progressively getting closer and closer to him, he moves to sit on the stairs of his porch and wait patiently.

The massive dog takes out a pile of snow near his truck on the way over, then runs up to sniff him and lick his face. The woman notices and immediately says something to herself before heading over.

“Theo, down!” The woman shouts, and her dog immediately obeys, resting at Duncan’s feet and leaning against his legs to get pets. Duncan obliges, looking the dog over appreciatively while he waits for his new neighbour to approach. She stays a few feet away from him when she walks up, and Theo pads over to her when she stops.

“Hi… er, hello. Uhm, sorry… about Theo. He’s very friendly with people he likes. Good judge of character.” The woman steps a bit closer, like her dog’s opinion of him means that much, “I’m Margaery Davis. I-I just moved in, today… well, I’m sure you saw.”

Duncan offers her what he hopes is a relaxing smile, and her face softens into a smile of her own. He notices her cigarette is burnt out from her running and thumps one out of his pack for her, holding it out for her. “I’m Duncan. Duncan Vizla.”

“Duncan Vizla. It’s nice to meet you. We’re… uh, neighbours, so… I suppose we’ll see a lot of each other.” Minnie says with a nervous smile. She takes the cigarette with a quiet thank you and lights it up, taking a deep drag off of it. Her lips are a deep pinkish red, almost like she just finished sucking on a candy, and Duncan finds himself wondering if it is natural or not. Her skin is white in a slightly unnatural way, like she’s been deprived of the sun rather than naturally not having much pigment to her skin.

“Snow White.” Duncan murmurs to himself, and Minnie raises her brows. She takes another drag before speaking.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said Snow White. You… look like her.” Duncan says a little louder, and Minnie feels her cheeks flush.

“Oh… Uhm, thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” Duncan eyes her for a moment, and Minnie swallows, petting Theo’s head.

“I… I should leave you be.” She says, hesitating before holding out her free hand to him, “I… I hope I’ll see you again soon. Call me Minnie, by the way. Margaery is an old lady name.”

“Minnie…” Duncan takes her hand, shaking it, his thumb running over her knuckles briefly before he lets go. She offers him a small smile, lifting the cigarette to her lips once more, then turns on her heel and heads back towards her cabin. Theo follows along behind her for a moment before running ahead to dive into another snow pile. Duncan watches her go, eying the slow sway of her hips as she picked her way through the snow.

Two days later, he heads into town and sees Minnie in the grocery store just in time to watch her flinch away from another customer that steps too close to her while passing her in the aisle. He eyes her for a moment before entering the store, tracking the way Minnie’s eyes immediately flick to him. Assessing her situation. He offers her a small nod, and she nods back, then continues to where to noisy owner Martha has the liquor just out of reach.

“Bourbon, please. And vodka. The bigger bottles, please. I’d like it to last.” Minnie murmurs, her shoulders tight. Her basket is laden with groceries and essentials, and she spends some time picking out different candies to add to her basket. As she’s choosing, he can see her worrying her lip with her teeth. Oral fixation, if he had to guess. She pays cash, bagging everything up while Martha counts her change. Duncan makes sure his footsteps up to her are loud enough that she isn’t frightened by his appearance in the queue.

“Oh, and here’s your neighbour. Have you two met yet? Margaery here was just telling me that she’s happy to have moved here. Duncan will be a good neighbour, honey.” Martha rambles while Minnie puts the last of her candy in her bags, save for a lollipop. She unwraps it, pops it in her mouth, and stuffs the wrapper into her pocket.

“Thank you kindly, Martha. I-I’ll see you later.” Minnie offers Duncan a small smile, then heads out the door and across the street to the rental machine. Duncan pays for his purchases while Martha babbles on about Minnie being such a pretty girl to be living out on her own and wonders why she doesn’t have a man looking out for her. Duncan looks at her blankly through it all, taking his bag when he’s done and heading out into the cold again. Minnie is still across the street with two DVD boxes in her hands, shuffling her bags in her arms. Duncan crosses over to her, steps loudly crunching in the snow, and takes the bags from her carefully.

“Oh, thank you Duncan.” Minnie offers him a shy smile, putting the DVD boxes into one of the bags, “I was just… picking up some entertainment. The, uh, internet connection isn’t great out here.”

“Not a problem. Where are you parked?” Duncan asks, and Minnie reaches for her bags.

“Oh, no, Duncan. I’ve got it, it’s fine, I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“You haven’t.” Duncan replies, stepping out of her reach and looking around until he spots her Jeep. He walks towards it, and Minnie sighs, following after him.

“Thank you, Duncan. You’re too kind.”

“Just… being neighbourly.” Duncan replies, putting her bags in the back seat once she unlocks her car, “It was nice to see you again.”

“You too.” Minnie tenses slightly, then touches his arm gently, “You’ve made me feel very welcome. I appreciate it.”

Duncan nods, covering her hand with his, then walking back to his truck with his bag. Minnie watches him go, licking her lollipop, then gets into her Jeep and begins the drive home. Theo nearly breaks the door down to get out when she arrives, and she giggles as he begins to run in zigzags around her yard.

The next day at around noon, Duncan hears a gentle knock at his door not long after he’s gotten out of the shower. Wearing only his trousers and carrying a sweater, he heads to the door. When he opens it, Minnie stands on his porch holding a tray in her hands. She blushes at the sight of him and takes a half step backwards, but he notices her eyes roam down his chest and feels proud enough about that. He pulls the sweater he’s holding over his head, and Minnie watches the motion, then holds out the tray.

“I-I uhm… I made… some… I’m a baker, I don’t think I mentioned that. I-I’m not anymore, you know, since I moved. But, uhm, anyways… I made some pastries. Baklavas, strawberry-basil macarons, jalebi, truffles and beignets. I… I made some for you, a-as a thank you for being kind to me.” Minnie rambles, her cheeks pink and dusted with powdered sugar.

Duncan takes the tray, his eyes widening just a little. He moves out of the way to let her in, feeling his mouth watering already at the smells coming from the tray.

“Thank you. Come in.”

Minnie smiles, stepping past him and closing the door, then leaning her bum against it to she can bend to untie her boots. She steps inside, looking around his cabin with a warmth to her face that he was growing fond of.

“The jalebi is best warm. You should leave the macarons, as the filling will flavour the shell over time and taste better. The truffles you can freeze, the baklavas are fine to be eaten cold or reheated, and the beignets… well, you should eat those warm as well. They’re fresh.” Minnie informs him quietly, lifting the lid from the tray when he sets it on his counter. She grabs the plate of jalebi and offers it to him.

“Tell me what you think. They’re a common Indian dessert.”

Duncan takes one and pops a piece off, humming as he puts it in his mouth. Minnie smiles as he pops another piece off for himself, though her cheeks grow warm when he cracks off a piece and holds it to her lips. She takes it delicately, but still manages to brush his fingers with her lips, though she suspects that may have been his fault. He smiles slightly, bringing his fingers to his lips to lick the sugar from them.

“Delicious.” Duncan comments, watching Minnie smile in response, “I’ve had jalebi before, but never so good outside of India.”

“You’ve been there?”

“I’ve done a lot of travelling.”

“Oh, wow. I wish. I’ve been to France and half the states, but that’s about it.” Minnie offers him a small smile, “Do you live alone up here? No family?”

“No family. It’s just me.” Duncan watches Minnie, “This is my retirement.”

“Oh, wow, that must be nice.” Minnie looks him over again, and he observes, “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“50 as of last week. And you?”

“Oh, uhm, I just turned 30 in January.” Minnie replies, “I’m… Are you busy this evening? For dinner? I’m making lasagna and I’ll have leftovers. So… you could… I mean, if you’re not busy.”

Duncan looks her over for a moment, trying to work out why she’s so nervous, but also why she keeps reaching out to him when she’s clearly scared. He nods after a moment of thought.

“Thank you.”

“Uhm… yeah, no problem. I’m… going to head back to my place. Theo’s probably anxious to go outside and I promised him we’d scout a good hiking trail.” Minnie worries her lip for a moment, tucking her raven hair behind her ear, though the curls fight their way loose a moment later, “Uhm, anyways, I-I’ll see you later. Dinner will be ready at around 6, but we’ll be home before then. We meaning me and Theo. The dog. Theo the dog.”

Duncan watches her flounder, nods, and then helps hold her steady while she puts her boots back on. She ties them loosely, in a hurry, and then she’s gone, leaving only the pastries and the scent of sugar and cinnamon to show she’d been there at all. He watches her walk to her house through the window, then fetches a couple beignets and goes to sit in his chair and put something on to occupy his time. His chest feels warm, and the beignets taste like heaven, and he wonders briefly if he can work out the puzzle that is Margaery Davis.

#polar #duncan vizla #duncan vizla/oc #because there is not enough Duncan Vizla content out there

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sprnklersplashes · 5 years

Text

not beyond repair (4/?)

AO3

September 23rd, 1989.

Dear Diary,

I am the worst person on this planet.

Left alone in the middle of the cafeteria, Veronica looks up at the Heathers, strolling off with their chins in the air like royalty. That’s what they are, of course. People even move aside for them in the halls. The kind of royalty that beheads anyone who disagrees with them. She looks over her shoulder at Martha, who is sitting at her table, the forged note in her hand. In all the time Veronica’s known her, she’s not sure she’s ever seen Martha smile like that. Sort of breathless excitement, like she’s just stepped into fairyland. She’s practically glowing for God’s sake. Like she’s floating on air.

She’s going to hit the ground hard.

Or maybe she won’t. Martha’s not into parties. Even when they have sleepovers, she passes out just after 11. She’s told Veronica over and over that she thinks the idea of going to one of those parties is terrifying. She’d so much prefer a night at home with a book or movie. Plus, there’ll be way too many people there, most she doesn’t even know, or like, despite Martha’s insistence that she likes everyone in their grade. And she doesn’t drink and the alcohol will be flowing. There’s no way she’ll even show up to this dumb party. Not even for Ram Sweeney.

Who is she kidding?

The absolute worst. I just threw my best friend (former best friend?) under the bus for a ticket to Heather Chandler’s dumb candy store.

“You shouldn’t have bowed down to the swash dogs and Diet Coke heads,” someone says behind her and it takes her a moment to realise they’re talking to her. “They’re going to crush that girl.”

She turns around to confront the voice, except all sarcastic remarks are gone because what can she say to something like that? It doesn’t take long to work out who it was, there’s not a lot of people around and there’s only one person who isn’t moving around. Everyone is looking at her-ever since she became a Heather, she’s had everyone’s eyes on her, but only one person isn’t looking at her. He must be new here because she’s never seen him, dark curly hair, long legs with one knee bent and his arm resting on it, sitting against the wall with a book on his bent leg, wearing a long black coat and a satisfied little smirk. His eyes are on his book, but there’s a gleam in them that tells her he’s proud of his little assessment.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asks. In other circumstances, she’d at least try to sound smarter, but she’s hardly in the mood. His eyes flicker up to her and he gets up, keeping his page with his finger. He hesitates before coming over to her.

A feeling of déjà vu comes over Veronica; she finds herself scanning his face, trying to work out where she recognises him. Is it possible there was someone else in their grade this whole time and she simply didn’t notice in all 17 years she’s lived here?

“Clearly, you’ve got a soul,” he tells her, and she’s confused at the shakiness in his voice, how his smile keeps faltering. “You just got to work harder on keeping it clean.” He takes in a breath, his fingers tightening on the book. “You know, the Veronica Sawyer I knew wouldn’t bow down to those three. But I guess we’re all born marked for evil.”

The Baudelaire quote catches her off-guard, almost making her forget what else he said. She won’t lie, she is impressed by it. He turns away from her, opening his book again and she chases him before he can get away from her.

“The Veronica Sawyer you knew?” she echoes just before he can get any further. He turns back to her, his expression a little more open. “I’m sorry have we-”

All the puzzle pieces click into her mind, taking her back to 1984. Brown eyes, curly hair that used to be a little more tame, a crooked smile and dimples, chewed nails, books sitting on a shelf in a near-empty house that he could quote at any point he liked. And a kiss in a playground.

“JD?” she whispers in disbelief. He holds his arms out, laughing slightly.

“In the flesh,” he confirms. He comes closer towards her. She’s not entirely sure what she’s feeling, other than shock. She hasn’t seen this boy since she was twelve years old. As time went on, she had started to miss him less and less. She moved on, growing tired of waiting for a letter from him. She didn’t forget him, just let him live in the back of her mind, only coming out whenever she was in the playground or read Wuthering Heights, and occasionally when she cooked pasta for herself. Sometimes she had let herself daydream about what they would have done if he hadn’t left.

Now it seems the daydream is real.

“You’re back,” she states dumbly.

“Yeah, I am,” he says.

“How are you back?” she asks, half laughing. He laughs back without a hint of sarcasm.

“That’s a long story,” he tells her. He looks her up and down, taking in her new outfit, how different it was from how she dressed when she was twelve. “You grew up pretty.”

“Yeah,” she says, looking down at herself. Blue blazer and grey miniskirt. Heather Chandler had taken the liberty of taking her out on a shopping spree. Well, she said shopping spree. What really happened was she handed Veronica clothes and told her she was getting them. It’s not that she didn’t like them, though. They really did make her feel beautiful and she got used to them. She just sometimes thinks she looks too much like a Heather, not a Veronica. “Um, well, you know how it is.”

“Oh yeah, fashion’s been real high on my priority list,” he says, gesturing to his grey t-shirt and black jeans and black trench coat, making her bite her lip to hold back her giggle. “That’s not all that’s changed, I see. You’re with the Heathers now.” Her smile drops at the accusatory tone he uses, like it’s a bad thing. Like he gets to judge who she’s friends with. Well, he might not be wrong, but the point still stands.

“Yeah, I am,” she says. “It’s uh, a kind of recent thing.” She scratches nervously behind her ear. “You know, stuff happens.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, his tongue darting out of the corner of his mouth. “I understand. Five years is a while.”

“Yeah, it is,” she sighs.

“You know, maybe if you’re free sometime, you could fill me in on everything I’ve missed?” he asks. He doesn’t meet her eyes, but he takes a hesitant breath. She thinks over what he said. Everything he missed since the way he left, the day he kissed her. “Too forward?” She realises that she hasn’t given him an answer.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “No, no not forward. Um, that would be awesome.” She balls her hands up into fists, fighting the urge in her legs to bounce. “And uh, JD? It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too,” he says. He pauses slightly, chewing his lip, a daring spark in his eye. “Ronnie.”

She hides her blush behind her hair, her smile stretching across her face. Hardly anyone other than her parents calls her that anymore, certainly not the Heathers. She missed how it had made her feel. Or maybe it’s just him saying it anyway.

But the butterflies in her stomach don’t last long. They end up being squashed by two idiots in track jackets who take up either side of JD. JD closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, his entire body seemingly locking. His arms tighten around his book, holding it closely against his chest. He looks almost like a statue, his lips moving slightly, muttering something.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Ram asks, poking JD’s cheek. “What’d your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?”

“Hey, Ram,” Kurt continues. “Doesn’t this cafeteria have a no gays allowed rule?”

“Look…. I don’t want trouble,” he says flatly, not looking at either of them. She frowns, wondering what happened to the boy who took them on in the cafeteria, but she supposes they both grew up. He became a pacifist and she became… a Heather.

“Aw, he doesn’t want trouble,” Ram coos. He yanks at the book in JD’s hands, the one he’s holding like a lifeline. “What you reading?”

Amid the crowd that’s started to gather around the fight, JD’s eyes find Veronica’s. His cheeks are red at the attention, but he smiles, and even though they’re in quite a crowd, she feels certain it’s just for her.

“You know, I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu right now,” he remarks. Veronica snorts and hides behind her diary.

“Deja what?” Kurt asks. JD rolls his lips into a thin line, his eyes staring straight ahead, but the mask breaks and his lips turn up into a smirk.

“Don’t pay much attention in French class do you?” he replies. He’s still not looking at either one of them, still looking straight ahead, his fingers curling around the edges of his book, but the smirk is still there. “That much hasn’t changed at least.”

Kurt blinks stupidly at him. It’s unlikely he’ll make the connection by just looking at him, and she’s doubtful he’d realise even if JD screamed his name in his face. It’s not like they knew his name when he was here. Kurt’s face twists into a snarl, his hands tightening on JD’s shoulder, and JD winces.

“Hold his arms,” he instructs Ram.

But Ram never gets the chance. JD swings his book across Kurt’s face and turns and does the same to Ram. Kurt takes a swing, but he grabs his arm and kicks him in the leg, sending him toppling to the floor before landing a punch on Ram’s chin.

Veronica can’t deny the rush she feels watching it. Despite being outnumbered, JD retains the upper hand. Clearly, whatever he’s been doing since he left, he must have kept himself in good shape. Or kept getting into fights. It’s like she has some sort of secret shame, but damn if it isn’t intoxicating as hell watching him go on like that, seemingly not stopping to think or plan, one move flowing into the next.

Ram comes up behind and gets the drop on him, pushing him to the ground and towering over him, but JD’s leg comes up right between his, hitting him right in the place he wouldn’t want to be hit. As Ram lets out a high, pained squeal, Veronica doesn’t even bother to hide her laughter. Most of the school are laughing with her. She thinks that she shouldn’t think that this is funny no matter who is getting beat up, but that’s drowned out by the chorus of laughter echoing around her and the sense of justice in seeing these two finally get what’s been coming to them since… well freshman year, definitely. Probably since before that. He probably remembers that episode in the cafeteria on their first day of seventh grade.

She’s changed a lot since then. It even shows on the outside. She’s not the same girl he liked all the way back then. Back then he would have gladly been seen with her. But that girl didn’t sell her friend out for popularity. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to be act proud with her now.

Two teachers, Miss Fleming and Coach Carr, run in to break up the fight. Fleming sorts out Kurt and Ram, checking them over as instructed by Coach Carr, who is pulling JD away from them. He struggles against Carr’s grasp, but as he grabs his chin and starts sternly talking to him, she sees JD begin to calm down; his shoulders stop wriggling and he stops digging his feet into the ground. She sees him let out a breath, his shoulders sagging like someone has knocked the wind out of him. He nods numbly as Carr talks to him, presumably telling him about the consequences of what he’s just done.

Veronica bristles in anger when she sees Fleming being more concerned with whether Kurt and Ram got hurt than punishing them. She thinks briefly that she should run over there and tell her that technically, they started it, and JD was just acting in self-defence, but her feet remain rooted to the ground. Besides, snitches get stitches. And if she stands up for JD, she can kiss everything she has now goodbye. If there’s anything Chandler hates, it’s tattlers. And also, Kurt is Macnamara’s kind of boyfriend, and sort of boyfriends of your friends have a special protection. Even if you’re not really friends with them.

Carr drags JD off like he’s a cop and JD’s a petty criminal, shoving through the crowd, barking at the kids to get to class. When he passes by Veronica, he gives her a smile and a wink, like they’re both in on some joke. Carr shoves his head roughly.

“Get to class, Miss Sawyer,” he tells her as he passes. Veronica turns and watches them go. JD doesn’t resist, in fact he seems to gladly go with him. She can’t see his face, and wonders if the smile was just for her or a façade for the rest of the school. Wonders how he really feels.

“Veronica,” Chandler snarls from behind her, making her jump. She composes herself and turns around. The Heathers all stand with their hands on their hips; Chandler with her eyebrows raised, Mac still giggling slightly, and Duke casting disgusted glances between Mac and Veronica. “Quit your drooling and let’s go. We have free period and I need to copy your English homework.”

“Right behind you,” she says, falling into step with the Heathers.

“And don’t forget,” she says over her shoulder. “We’re meeting at your place before Ram’s party on Friday.”

Veronica gulps. The first time her parents meet the Heathers. More importantly, the first time the Heathers meet her parents and see her house. She’s been to all of their houses, and her house could fit into theirs probably twenty times.

“How could I forget?” she replies when Chandler looks sharply to her, demanding a response.

After free period, she passes the front office on her way to French, and who else but Jason Dean is sitting on the plastic chair outside, scowling at the wall and scratching at his jeans.

“Hey,” she greets. His stony face breaks into a smile when he sees her at least and he pushes his hair out of his eyes.

“Hey,” he says back.

“I take it you’re in trouble?” she asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She nods over at the door to the vice principal’s office down the hall; it’s shut. He scrunches up his nose and sticks out his tongue.

“Well we have to wait and see, but that’s very likely,” he says. “We’re just waiting on the adult figure in my life to come.”

“Adult figure?” Veronica asks. He nods, the scratching on his leg getting faster.

“Apparently there needs to be a discussion about my behaviour,” he explains. “Getting into a fight on your second day of classes doesn’t exactly make a good impression.”

“It’s your second day?” she asks, slightly taken aback. “I mean, I didn’t notice you at all yesterday.”

“Apparently this year we’re in a different homeroom,” he explains, shrugging. “But, here, let me see your schedule.” She takes it out of her blazer pocket and he does the same. She moves closer so that she’s leaning against the wall next to him. They put their schedules next to each other’s, hers decorated in blue ink, his crumpled and creased but otherwise pristine.

“There.” She points at third period, Wednesday. His schedule has the same class, teacher and room code. “We have social studies together.” She remembers back in seventh grade, when for three weeks in geography, all she could do was look at the back of JD’s head. Then she sat down and the desk in front of her was empty. When handing back grades for the shared assignment, the teacher had asked if she could take his. She mailed to the address he was at, along with another letter from her, but she never heard back.

Why not? She could ask him that right now, but there’s something between them that she doesn’t want to ruin.

“Then I can’t wait,” he says. She pushes her hair behind her ear as she smiles. She tries to think of something to say, but before she can he sits up straighter in the chair and looks behind her. “And apparently, the adult figure is here.”

Veronica turns to see what he means. Out the window, she sees a woman climbing out of a grey car, a Ford by the look of it, but her knowledge of cars is limited strictly to her dad telling her about them as she watches him fix theirs. She crosses the courtyard in a hurry and comes into the school, her eyes landing on JD immediately. She’s probably just younger than her mother; small frame and dark brown hair held in a low ponytail, wearing an ill-fitting grey jacket and silver-rimmed glasses. She looks kind, but her expression is stern, glaring at JD, who does his best not to squirm, but looks down at the floor and scratches behind his ear.

“O-Okay,” Veronica murmurs, turning back to JD and straightening up. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“Of course,” he says, saluting her lazily with his finger. She manages a weak smile at the woman before walking off down the hall. She strains her ears, hoping to catch some snippet of conversation between then, but all she hears is the door to the vice principal’s office open and shut.

******

Seeing nothing better to do, Veronica sits herself down on the sidewalk. He runs her hands up and down her bare legs, which are being frozen by the chill in the air. It’s cold enough in September in Ohio at a reasonable time, but it’s two am on a Friday night-or Saturday morning. No one with any sense would be outside now, especially not in an outfit such as hers-a short black skirt and white shirt under a flimsy blue blazer. She had even been talked into wearing heels by Heather, and now her reward was blisters on her feet.

She wonders if Heather planned this; getting her to wear heels knowing how painful it would be for her. Regardless, it’s most certainly nothing compared to what she has planned for her on Monday.

The thing is, flying with the eagles has the biggest unforeseen disadvantage; the ground really hurts when they drop you.

Her clock’s ticking now; she’s got thirty hours until Heather, Heather and Heather hunt her down and make a trophy out of her to mount on the walls of her mansion of a house. Maybe Veronica’s head will make a nice centrepiece in her dining room table or sit next to one of the three TVs in her house. They’ll use her limbs for croquet mallets.

She can’t be out of options entirely. Heather had given her the helpful tip of transferring. Maybe if she begged her mom hard enough, she’d send her to another school without question. Or maybe she can just run home, pack a bag, leave a note for her parents and run up to Seattle. Change her name and start running a sweet little coffee shop.

She pushes herself off the sidewalk, the cold biting into her, and it’s worryingly damp. She tries to think, hoping to God it’s rained in the past 24 hours. The only light is coming from the street lights and the only sound she can hear is her breathing and the ringing in her ears. The foul taste of vomit and alcohol lingers in her mouth. Still, the vomiting did a good job of sobering her up. Maybe now she’ll take a vow of sobriety. Heavy drinking is nowhere near as glamorous as people make it out.

She heads down the street with the intention of going home, still thinking about Monday morning with an impending sense of dread. She knows she can’t leave Westerberg; her parents would never let her transfer without a serious talk involving the principal, and that would mean her having to tell everything to her parents and then… well, she’s not sure. She’s not sure anyone’s ever ratted the Heathers out for anything, and if they did, they didn’t live to tell the tale. She can’t run away either; she’s still learning to drive and doesn’t even own a motorbike-

Something catches her eye from across the road; a small silver Ford, parked next to a small, red brick, two storey house. Red front door and tightly shut curtains, the muffled shine of a lamp on in one of the upper rooms. She runs across to the other side and cranes her neck, standing on her toes even in her ridiculous shoes. Behind the curtain, she can see the shadow of someone. It could be anyone, but her gut pulls her towards them. She can only think of one person in Sherwood, Ohio who would be awake at this hour and not at Ram’s party.

Well, there’s an option she likes. Spend these thirty hours getting freaky.

After checking her surroundings, she tiptoes up to the house, positioning herself right under the lit window. Hands shaking, she grabs the trellis and begins pulling herself up, nails scraping against the brick as ivy tickles her nose. She can never get a steady, firm grip on it, fingertips turning red as they grasp at wood, and she prays she doesn’t fall. Not even thinking about how much it would hurt, she can’t think what she’d do when JD runs out and finds her lying with broken bones in his yard.

Soon, she’s able to grab onto the windowsill with one hand and balance herself using her forearm, ripping the window lock off with her free hand. Normally, she would knock but well, she doesn’t have the time right now.

She pushes the window open, pulls herself up onto the windowsill and pulls herself through, the tick fabric of the curtains choking and blinding her before she feels her head and shoulders collide with carpeted floor, the rest of her body following through in a completely ungraceful tumble.

“Veronica?” She lifts her head to see JD in a grey t-shirt and black pyjama pants, sitting on his bed with a book in his hand, looking at her with his eyebrows shooting to the ceiling and his jaw on the floor. She pulls herself to her feet, yanking on her skirt to straighten it. His coat is lying on the floor and he looks different without it, to say the least. Smaller, younger. More vulnerable, although part of that could be due to the fact that she just broke into his house. He throws the book away, nothing bothering to mark his page, and sits on the edge of the bed, looking her up and down with barely any change in his expression. “Wh-what are you doing in my room?”

“Shhh!” she hisses, waving her finger frantically, aware that they definitely were not home alone. She crosses over to him, watching him pinch himself as she does so. He opens his mouth, looking for something to say, but no sound comes out. “Had to see you. The thing is… I kind of have to ride you until I break you.” She can’t not smile as she talks. It’s exciting, and not just because of the ridiculousness of it all. Because it’s him.

“Um… can I ask why?” he says, looking at her up and down, just noticing the outfit and heavy make-up.

“Heather,” she explains as he stands. “She’s going to kill me on Monday morning. I’ve got 30 hours, so I figured I might as well spend them doing something I like.”

“Having sex?”

“You,” she replies firmly. He smiles and caresses her cheek, moving in to kiss her. His touch is gentle and careful and it’s beautiful, but it’s also not what she’s looking for right now. She grabs his shoulders and shoves him to the ground. He gasps, but caresses her legs instead, already panting. His hands go under her skirt and God, it feels good. He kisses the bottom of her thigh, just above her knee, and she sighs.

“Why me?” he asks between kisses. She gets down on her knees with him, clasping her hands behind her neck and looking into his eyes. She could get lost in them. She presses her hand against his chest.

“Because you’re beautiful,” she tells him, honestly. Words start coming out of her mouth without control and she doesn’t know if it’s the late hour and lack of sleep or the impending death sentence, but she doesn’t mind at all. “And I’ve missed you. And the world isn’t fair, but we can pretend that it’s different.” She rips her blazer off and throws it to the side. “What do you think? Help me make this beautiful?”

He licks his lips, his eyes bright as he smiles, his hands running up and down her back.

“That works for me.”

Veronica learns something surprising that night; and it’s that JD is really, really good at sex. Not that she’d have much to compare him to, or anything really, but damn he’s good at it. He takes it as slowly as she wants (which isn’t slow at all, there’s so much she wants to do to him and only so much time they have together), obeying her every command. When she asks him to slap her, he does, when she says, “pull my hair”, he grabs it and yanks it hard, making it hurt exactly like she wanted it. His hands go wherever she asks, until she doesn’t even need to ask him, he just knows. He kisses her hard, tangling his fingers in her hair as he presses her lips to her lips, her neck, her breast, her stomach, anywhere he can.

She gives as much as she gets from him, peppering his face and chest with kisses, all the way down to his belly button before getting brave and sucking on his neck, hoping she leaves a mark. She remembers all she’s read in books, under her covers at night with a torch. Martha would be absolutely scandalised if she knew that she read them, she’d probably die if she knew what she and JD were doing right now. But those books always gave her the wildest kinds of secret fantasies, things she’d wanted to do with someone she really, really cared about, and who cared about her the same way. But for now, JD would do.

In the back of her mind springs the insane thought that maybe he might be that person who cares for her, but she banishes it. There’s almost no room for such thoughts when JD is looking at her like that, with wide, shining eyes and parted lips and he’s inside her and he is letting her drag her nails down his back while their tongues and teeth clash, him whispering her name like a prayer. There’s no room for anything except the way he feels against her.

She doesn’t think about how anyone else might be in the house. She doesn’t think about how anyone else might be on the damn planet. They might as well be the only two people in existence, and she wouldn’t hate it if that were the case.

“Make this whole town disappear,” she begs in a breathless whisper.

“Okay,” he says, panting. She thinks he’s just responding out of instinct until he looks up at her, eager and willing and smiling. “Okay.”

When they finish, she rolls off him, one leg dangling off the mattress of his single bed. She’s still got her socks and bra on, but that’s it. They’re both breathless, lying in the dark, only the glow of his bedside lamp illuminating part of his face and turning the room dark blue instead of pitch black. His hand finds hers and takes it gently, lifting it against his chest, which rises and falls quickly.

“Wow,” he whispers, and she giggles. “Um… that was… Wow…”

“Am I leaving you speechless?” she asks cheekily. “This has to be a first.” He laughs, low and deep and gorgeous. He plants a chaste kiss on the back of her hand.

“I’m a lot of things right now,” he confesses. After a brief moment of complete silence, she feels him shifting, moving so that his arm is around her. She smiles and gladly plays along, moving until she’s almost on top of him, her head on his shoulder and she can stretch her arms the whole way across his waist and gently kiss his shoulder while she snuggles into him, tiredness overtaking her as the initial adrenaline wears off. “As are you, it seems. Tired being one of them.”

“Long day,” she murmurs into his skin. She feels the thick comfort of the duvet over her shoulders, the pressure of a kiss on the top of her head. As she closes her eyes, he pulls her tighter, continuing to kiss her head. She’s asleep before he turns the lamp off.

*****

“Veronica? Veronica!” JD’s concerned, frantic voice grows louder, matching Heather Chandler’s cackling and the chorus of “very” being chanted by her classmates, staring at her with dead eyes behind 3D glasses while Chandler continues laughing at the thought of the whole school knowing about her and JD. His voice cuts above it all.

She opens her eyes, finding him shirtless and sitting across from her, holding her shoulders with concerned eyes, the sunlight filtering in through the open window. Guess she forgot to close it when she came in.

“You’re soaking wet,” he remarks.

“Oh my God,” she mutters. “Oh my God, it was just a dream.” She jumps off the bed with unsteady legs, finding her shoes and underwear on the floor beside her. She slips them on and goes on a hunt for the rest of her clothes, aware of JD still in the bed watching her while she parades around his room practically naked. “Enjoying the show back there?”

“Maybe,” he replies, winking. “Hey, it’s only eight thirty, what’s the rush? Parents expecting you home?”

“No,” she says, shrugging on her shirt, which was crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the bed. Didn’t Duke warn her of the dangers of crumpling a shirt like this? Who cares, it’s done now. “They think I’m at Heather’s. Which is where I need to go now.”

“What?” he asks. “I thought you were done with her.”

“Yeah, that was a sweet fantasy,” she sighs, thinking about it for a minute. “A world without Heather, a world where everyone is free. Now it’s morning and I have to go kiss her arroba sized ass.”

“No.”

“Yes,” she sighs, finding her skirt and blazer next to JD’s side of the bed and pulling them on. “I’m not strong like you are.”

“You think I’m strong?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she confesses. “Of course I do. You don’t care what people think or what they can do to you. I’m different. I bend to those asshole’s wills.” And apparently, she’s okay with hurting people like Martha if those assholes want it. She can’t think what he sees in her, if anything.

“Well, at least let me come with you,” he says, pulling on his t shirt.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You know, for back up.”

“Okay,” she agrees, nothing short of flattered, as he gets out of bed and gets a fresh pair of boxers and jeans before coming back over to her, lifting his coat on the way. “Um, thank you.” She gets up on her toes and kisses him gently, sweetly. Completely different to what she did to him last night, but that was last night. She learned a lot last night. “Um… by the way… you were my first.”

A smiling (if she didn’t know better she’d say smitten) JD takes her hand and leads her into the hallway, which is blue carpet with white walls, decorated with some impressionist paintings, none she recognises except for a Monet one. He presses his finger to his lips and she follows as they sneak down the hall. Veronica gets nervous as they pass a closed door, which JD eyes suspiciously before they run down the stairs and out the front door, letting the door click shut behind them.

It’s a shorter walk than she thought to Heather’s house, but he doesn’t stop holding her hand, even swinging it back and forth to make her giggle. It works, but nothing can stop the dread building in her stomach when they find themselves on the doorstep of Heather’s white, three storey almost-mansion, locked behind double iron gates and a sprawling green lawn, croquet hoops dug tightly into the grass. In the drive, there’s only Heather’s Porsche and Mrs Chandler’s Mini, her dad’s car is gone.

Veronica slips the key Heather gave her into the front door and pushes it open, JD frowning.

“Heather?” Veronica calls out. Nothing but silence.

“You sure someone’s home?” JD asks as their footsteps echo on the wooden floor. She’s pretty sure her whole room could fit in Heather’s hallway.

“Heather skips the Saturday morning trip to Grandma’s even when she’s not hungover,” she replies dryly. She doesn’t want to look at him, doesn’t want him to see her like this, loosing whatever dignity she might have left. “Heather?”

“What?” The response comes form upstairs, a deep, throaty, tired growl, reminding Veronica of the dragons in old kid’s movies she and Martha used to watch.

“It’s Veronica, I’m here to apologise,” she says.

“Hope you brought kneepads, bitch!” she replies, her voice much more alert now. “Fix me a prairie oyster and I’ll think about it.”

“Prairie oyster, what’s in that?” Veronica asks, leading JD into Heather’s kitchen. Much like everything in Heather’s house, it’s far bigger than hers, white walls and black tiled floors and light brown wooden cabinets. She thinks her earliest days with the Heathers, when Chandler made her try vodka (which was vile) while Mac told her all the hangover cures she knew just in case she needed them. “Um, raw eggs, vinegar…”

“Hot sauce, Worchester, salt and pepper,” JD finishes, taking them out of their various cabinets and setting them out on the counter.

“You know your hangover cures,” she says, impressed.

“My dad trained me well,” he answers, smiling despite the bitter edge in his voice. Veronica looks at him, the strain in his shoulders and clench of his jaw. She remembers his dad, of course, he’s not someone you’d easily forget. She also remembers how JD practically threw her out of the house whenever his dad came home. She wonders if he’s still in the picture. She feels bad, but she really hopes he isn’t.

“Okay, here’s my revenge,” she says, trying to distract him (and because it’s a good plan). “I’ll drop phlegm globber in her prairie oyster, she’ll never know.” He watches her, trying and failing not to laugh as she tries to get enough phlegm in her mouth. “Okay, hang on it’s coming.” She spits into the mug, watching it disappear into the rest of it. She laughs triumphantly, placing the mug back on the counter while JD keeps looking in the cupboards.

“Well that was adorable,” JD says, raising an eyebrow. “But you know… we do have another option.” He lifts a bottle out of the cupboard and turns it towards her. “I do prefer no rust build up to phlegm.”

“Oh, okay,” she says sarcastically. “Don’t be a dick, that would kill her.”

She says it completely casually, but JD changes entirely. He looks down at the bottle in his hand, silent. His eyes are vacant and it scares her.

“JD?” she asks, stepping closer to him. “J?” She grabs his shoulder, the emptiness in his eyes making her gut churn. “JD?” He snaps back to her suddenly, shaking his head, banishing whatever bad thoughts were in there before.

“I’m okay,” he says, taking hold of her arm. “I’m sorry, Veronica, I just…” She tilts his chin, making him look in her eyes. She can’t know what’s going on in his mind, but she knows he’s scared, or freaked out at least. But she sees clarity and security creep back into his eyes as he keeps looking at her. “I’m sorry.”

He kisses her, his lips feeling desperate against hers. She doesn’t complain, because oh God, is a good kisser. She smiles against his lips, kissing him back with just as much strength, hoping to make him forget whatever was scaring him. She winds her arms around his shoulders as he pulls her closer by her waist. She tilts her head to deepen it, letting her mind wander from… well, whatever she was meant to be doing right now, she can’t exactly recall. This is much more enjoyable.

“Prairie oyster, chop chop!”

Oh, right, she thinks as she pulls away from him with a sigh. That’s what she’s here for. She grabs the mug and walks up to Heather’s bedroom, remembering from the two times she’s been here before; once after Heather took her out on a shopping spree and once to watch a movie with the Heathers, Kurt and Ram.

“Good luck,” JD says softly in her ear. She reaches behind with her free hand and squeezes his hand.

“Heather?” she asks, knocking on the door.

“Open it,” she growls from inside. So she’s extra-bitchy today.

Ever since she first saw it, Veronica has been in awe of Heather’s bedroom. Soft white carpeting she would have laid on all day if she could, a four-poster bed with probably at least ten pillows, a TV, walk in closet. She was like the Barbie dolls she used to play with, and all her thousands of accessories. The first time, Heather had played nice, let her check out her jewellery, shoes, jackets, sit on her bed and even tried to show her how to style her hair properly with the 101 products she has in the bathroom attached to her room.

Being in Heather’s room made her feel amazing, like the popular girl she now was, but every time she left, her own house always felt smaller, her own bedroom feel messier and shabbier and just, well, worse. A reminder that she can dress like them, go to their parties, talk like them, play croquet with them, but she’ll never really be one of them.

Heather herself is sitting half propped up with her many pillows, eyes half open, looking at the pair of them with disdain as they approach her.

“Ah, Veronica,” she greets, her voice sickly sweet. The false smile drops when she sees JD. Apparently he’s not even worthy of fake politeness. “And Jesse James, quelle surprise. Well, let’s get to it. Beg.” She kicks off the sheets and swings her legs on the side of her bed, revealing the red silk robe she was wearing, her hair tied back with her ever-present red scrunchie.

“Look, Heather I think last night we both said a lot of stuff we didn’t mean,” she begins.

“I’d actually prefer you did this on your knees,” Heather interrupts. “In front of your boy-toy here.”

“Yeah.” She looks back briefly at JD, who has his hands stuck in the pocket of his trench coat, his jaw clenched in anger, and turns back to Heather. “Anyway, I’m really sorry-”

She throws her head back and laughs, eerily similar to her nightmare. She can only hope that this is a nightmare and she’ll wake up back in JD’s arms, in his bed.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” she asks, snapping her fingers. “Down!”

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and gets down on her knees. She won’t cry, no matter how much she wants to. JD turns his head away.

“Nice,” Heather says, getting up and leaning in close to her face, so much that Veronica can still see last night’s make up. “But you’re still dead to me.” She takes the mug from her hands and takes a swing from it, gagging. “You can’t even make a prairie oyster right? Get out of here. And take your boy with you. And try not to vomit on him.” She looks past Veronica, batting her eyes at JD in the way she’d seen her do to almost every boy she deemed worthy. She is almost certain that the only reason she deems JD ‘worthy’ is because he’s Veronica’s. “And when you tire of her, you know where to find me.”

JD doesn’t say anything, but his face is thunderous as he leads Veronica out of the room, wrapping his arm around her waist. She doesn’t have any shame in burying her face in his chest and clinging to his coat as they walk.

“Are you okay?” he asks once they’re safely out of Heather’s house.

“Fine,” she lies, pulling out of his embrace and settling for holding his hand instead. She’s anything but fine, but she won’t say that to him.

“I know,” he says, stopping their walk to pull her closer, resting his hands on her waist. “What about I take you back to mine and you let me make you breakfast?” Now that he mentions it, she realises she is hungry, and being with him sounds miles better than sitting at home alone trying to do homework. “I don’t mean to brag, but I make a mean French toast.”

“You had me at French toast,” she replies. “And hey, is it cool if I use your phone to call my parents? They’ll probably be wondering where I am and my dad thinks he needs to get me from Heather’s.”

“Of course,” he says, putting his arm around her shoulders and squeezing gently.

When they get back to JD’s house, she’s almost forgotten all about Heather, when she’s laughing with him and he’s swinging their joined hands. She told him to make their town disappear, maybe this was how he was doing it.

There’s a light on in the kitchen window when they arrive, but he doesn’t seem to be surprised about it. He mutters something under his breath, she’s most certain it’s “shit”, but he knocks on the door after checking his empty pocket for a key.

“Hey, it’s me!” he calls to whoever is in the house. “I left my key in my room!”

The door is opened by the same woman who met him at school earlier in the week; this time wearing a pink knitted sweater and jeans, coffee mug in her hand, her hair in a messy bun, still with the glasses perched on her nose. At first, she looks ready to murder JD, Veronica’s seen that look on her own mom’s face when she missed her curfew last week, but it melts away when she sees Veronica. She blinks in confusion, looking to JD for an explanation. Her eyes land on their joined hands, and Veronica tries not to blush. Last night, she hadn’t thought past getting JD. She really hopes she doesn’t have to tell this woman she broke into her home just to have sex with him.

“This is Veronica,” he explains. “She’s a friend from school. Is it okay if she hangs out here for a bit?”

“Yeah, of course,” she says, giving her a warm smile. “Come on in.” They step into the house, Veronica a little behind JD. The hallway is nice enough, green walls with more paintings and red carpet on the wooden floor, yet she still feels awkward. Maybe because she still looks like hell on wheels and still has last night’s make up on. She tugs her skirt down, hoping to make herself more presentable.

“Also, is it okay if Veronica uses our phone?” JD asks. “She needs to call her parents.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” the woman says. “It’s just back there.”

“Thanks,” Veronica says, looking to where she gestured and back to JD. For a moment, she thinks he’s going to kiss her, but he drops her hand instead. Of course he did, the woman who he says is responsible for him is right there.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he says, going into the kitchen and leaving her alone in the hallway. She picks up the phone and dials her home number.

“Hello?” she hears her mom ask her bright, chipper, “it’s Saturday morning let’s seize the day” voice.

“Hey, Mom, it’s me,” she says.

“Oh, Veronica,” she says. “How was your party?”

It was great, then my friend was nearly publicly humiliated, then I vomited on someone and was given a death sentence, so you know, could have been better. But hey, remember JD, my friend from when I was 12? Yeah I broke into his house and had sex, so not a total loss.

“Fine,” she says instead. “Hey Mom, there was a bit of a change of plans, and I didn’t stay over at Heather’s. I stayed at someone else’s place.”

“Whose house where you at?” her mom asks, and Veronica fights the urge to groan.

“A friend,” she answers. “A friend from school.”

“Which friend?” Veronica throws her head back and swallows the scream that’s begging to be released.

“A new friend,” she sighs. “His name is JD. And he lives pretty close by so is it okay if I walk home?”

“Well, okay…” she says. “Just… well it’s nine now, so there’s no real rush. Really I thought you’d still be asleep by now.” Veronica chuckles, not sure her mom heard it. “Maybe, home by eleven?”

“Sure,” she agrees. “Thanks mom.”

“Okay, see you then, sweetheart.”

She hangs up and begins to make her way to the kitchen but pauses when she hears JD say her name. After a minute, she presses herself against the wall, out of view of both of them.

“Veronica just needed a place to crash last night,” she hears him explain. “I know I should have told you, but it was like two in the morning.”

“And she’s your friend?” the woman asks in reply, her tone disbelieving.

“Yeah, I met her in school,” he tells her. “You saw her too, she was with me when you had to come in.”

“Oh, yeah. Speaking of which-”

“I know I’m not meant to have friends over right now. Or go out-”

“Jason, what was I meant to think when I saw your room was empty? I was this close to calling the cops!”

“The cops? Okay, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Well, for all I knew it was. For all I knew you were kidnapped or you ran away!” Veronica hears her sigh, followed by a long pause. “Just… I know you were helping her out, Jason, and that’s good. That’s great, even. Just next time, please let me know when you’re leaving so I’m not going out of my mind here? Okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs, resigned. “Okay. Look, I just need a favour. This morning, with everything that was going on… I forgot to take my meds. Can you just keep her company for five minutes while I go take them?”

“Sure, sure that’s fine.” She hears his footsteps coming and Veronica sprints back to the phone, feeling idiotic as she lifts the receiver to her ear so she can pretend to hang up just as JD passes her.

“Hey,” she greets, pushing her hair out of her eyes in an attempt to seem casual.

“Hey,” he replies. “Everything okay with your folks?”

“Yeah, it’s all fine,” she says. “As long as I’m home by eleven.”

“Great,” he says, but his smile isn’t quite so wide. “Um, I just need to check something upstairs, why don’t you wait for me in the kitchen, then I can make you breakfast.”

“Sure, sure, no problem.” He squeezes her hand before running upstairs and she tiptoes into the kitchen, pulling one of her sleeves over her hand. The woman who JD seems to live with is standing at the counter, giving Veronica an awkward smile.

“You’re Jason’s friend from school?” she asks politely. Veronica nods, her mouth suddenly dry and she hopes JD comes back down soon, because she feels like she’s suffocating. Even more so when she looks down at her feet and is reminded of the heels she’s wearing and becomes very aware of the make-up on her face. “Were you at a party last night?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “It um, went a bit wrong.” The woman smiles into her coffee and hands her a packet of wet wipes.

“Here you go,” she says. “You can use that mirror as well. I know how bad it is having post-party make-up on your face.”

“Thank you,” she responds, turning to the mirror. She nearly curses when she sees herself. Her lipstick is smeared across her face, her blue eyeshadow, applied expertly by an excited Macnamara, is now smudged along the sides of her eyes. God she must have looked awful when she showed up on Heather’s doorstep that morning.

“So you’ve lived here your whole life?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Veronica answers. “What about you? I don’t think I’ve ever met you, and in this town, everyone kind of knows everyone.”

“I’ve lived here long enough. About seven years,” she answers. “But I keep to myself mostly. Jason’s the first time I’ve had someone old enough to be in high school.” Veronica frowns but doesn’t press her. She keeps wiping away make up until the wipes turn blue and red. “I’m just glad he’s making friends here.”

“JD?” she asks. “We were friends when he lived here before. Back when we were 12.”

“You were?” she replies, surprised. Veronica turns back to her, most of the make-up wiped off now. She feels far better with it off. Like she’s herself again. “Well, that’s good. I’m glad you two are back together then.”

Before Veronica can reply, JD comes back in, his coat discarded now, just in a grey t-shirt and jeans. She’s relieved to see him; she’s not sure how much more awkward conversation with this woman she could handle, nice as she may seem.

“Hey,” he says, coming over to her. He brushes her hair away from her face with a smile. “You look pretty.”

“Thanks,” she replies. Her first instinct is to grab his waist but she goes for his shoulders, aware of the third presence in the room. She looks at her without thinking and JD notices, biting his lip awkwardly.

“Yeah,” he sighs, letting Veronica go and gesturing to her. “Veronica, this is Claire. She’s paid to make sure I don’t commit crimes.”

“It’s more than that, Jason,” she tells him with a slight roll of her eyes.

“She’s my foster mom,” he explains. He doesn’t quite meet Veronica’s eyes, his hands fidgeting like he’s ashamed of having a foster mom. She’s surprised, it’s not something you hear every day, but she can’t see the shame in having one. “She’s the one keeping me out of trouble and making me food. Speaking of, I believe I promised you breakfast.”

“I take it that’s my cue to leave,” she says, lifting her plate and coffee mug and heading towards the door. “I’ll be in the living room. Take good care of my kitchen.”

“I always do,” he says.

“It was nice meeting you,” Veronica calls after her.

“Thanks, you too, Veronica,” she replies, smiling softly and honestly.

“She seems cool,” Veronica says to JD after she leaves. He’s already in the fridge, taking out eggs and bread.

“I guess,” he says, closing the door. He kneels down and takes a pan and jug out of a drawer. “I’ve only been with her a few days. Still she’s one of the better one’s I’ve had.” Veronica keeps her mouth shut. She remembers him referencing “Kerri and George” in a letter he’d written her a lifetime ago. She wonders as she watches him; how many homes has he been through? Are they better or worse than with his dad? She doesn’t ask, instead she wraps her arms around his waist and kisses his shoulder. “So… you told her we’re friends.” She says it both because she wants to change the subject, and well, she’d be lying if she said it didn’t bother her a little.

“Is that a problem?” he asks, flipping the bread over with one hand and taking her hand with the other.

“Is that what we are?” she asks. “Friends?”

“Well what else would I say?” he replies. “Hey Claire, this is Veronica, she broke in last night and took my virginity.” Veronica laughs into his shoulder. He shifts so that he’s facing her and runs his fingers along her cheekbone. “But if you want to be something else… I wouldn’t object.”

She’s new to all this; romance, relationships. The whole ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ scenario. She has no idea how to navigate this. And she knows that breaking into his room to have sex with him because she’s pissed off isn’t the conventional romance route. In the movies they kiss in a school dance while he professes his love for her, but they’re in his kitchen instead, and this isn’t a movie. She’s not really sure what it feels like; but she knows she feels really good when she’s in his arms and that his smile makes her heart flutter and she wants to be with him.

“Maybe I do,” she whispers honestly. She presses her lips against his, feeling him smiling against her. It’s quick and gentle, him pulling away before it can go further. She buries her face back in his shirt, smiling against his shoulder.

After two rounds of French toast (and he was right, he does make a mean French toast), she leaves, seeing it’s nearly time when her mom will be expecting her back. He walks her to the door, playing gently with her hand.

“You all right?” he asks.

“Heather Chandler’s still going to ruin me on Monday,” she sighs. “And I don’t know what I’m going to do about Martha.” She groans, the guilt she’s suppressed since she wrote the stupid note taking over her. “I have to tell her the truth. She’s going to hate me.”

“Maybe she won’t,” he says, but it’s half-hearted. She nods anyway.

“I’ll see you Monday,” she says, swinging their intertwined hands. “And JD… Thank you. For letting me stay over, for coming with me to Heather’s...”

“Of course,” he replies, tracing her chin with his finger. “I’ll keep my bedroom window open if you ever want to drop by.” She giggles and squeezes his hand before leaving. She’s still scared-no, terrified-of Monday morning, still guilt-ridden, anxious, humiliated, practically defeated. But she has a feeling he’ll stay in her corner. If nothing else, she guesses she has JD, and that can almost be enough.

*****

JD stays at the door, watching Veronica leave. A lot of things have changed about her since they were kids; her hair, her clothes, her friends, but she hasn’t changed the way she walks. Lost in her thought, not seeming to look where she’s going. When he saw her in school, he almost didn’t recognise her, running after Heather Chandler in her small skirt. But when he saw her alone, writing in her diary, it was like he’d never left.

“She seems nice,” Claire says from behind him. He wants to laugh. She’s not ‘nice’. ‘Nice’ is too meek a word to describe Veronica. She’s beautiful and stunning and wonderful and unpredictable. ‘Nice’ doesn’t describe a girl who came in through your bedroom window at 2am.

“Yeah, she is,” he says instead, turning away from the window.

“Any way, I’m glad you’re making friends here,” she begins. “Even though=”

“All right, yes, technically, I’m grounded,” he sighs.

“No technically about it, mister,” she reminds him, but it’s playful. There’s almost no force behind her words, which is surprising. They’ve only been together a brief time, but he knows she can be stern if she wants.

“So what’s my punishment?” he asked, resigned. As if he hasn’t done this before.

“You were helping a friend,” she says with a small smile. “What would I be saying if I punished that?”

“So… I’m good?” he asks, tentatively stepping forward. He must be dreaming. If this whole morning had been a dream, he wouldn’t necessarily be surprised. “I’m free to go.”

“Oh, no,” Claire says, shaking her head. “You’re still grounded for another week and a half. Meaning, no friends over, no going out without me knowing, especially if it’s in the morning and I nearly have a stroke thinking about you.”

“And you still have my Baudelaire,” he says bitterly. Apparently, that’s what people do when their foster kid doesn’t watch TV like a ‘normal’ kid. He wonders which of his past carers, gave her that little titbit of advice, or maybe it was his social worker.

Claire sighs, looking him up and down, before disappearing into the living room. He assumes she’s going on with her day and is about to disappear up to his own room, when she comes out holding his book out to him. The Flowers of Evil, one he picked up at a used bookstore when he was 14. His eyes flit between the book and her, checking to make sure it’s really his, and making sure she’s serious. All she does is smile and keep holding it out to him.

“Really?” he asks. “You’re giving me it back?”

“Consider it me lessening your sentence,” she says. “You did a good thing for your friend, Jason.” He takes the book from her, running his fingers over the cracked cover. Foster parents don’t do this. No one has ever done this before. He waits for the catch and realises there isn’t.

“Thanks,” he manages.

“You’re welcome.” She takes a drink of her coffee. “Did you take your meds?”

“Yes,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. “Promise. Just with everything that happened, I forgot to take them when I got up.”

“Okay, okay,” she says, holding her hand up in defence. “Just making sure.” She purses her lips, looking down at her coffee. “This morning, I heard your friend screaming. Thought it was you for a second.” He chuckles humourlessly. He hasn’t woken up screaming in her house yet, and those kind of mornings have become less and less frequent as he’s got older, but they still happen. It’s just a matter of time. “Then I heard you talking to her.”

“Oh?” he asks, tossing the book between his hands. “It’s nothing, just some girl at school being a bitch to her.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers, though that might not be true considering what happened at Heather Chandler’s house. “I mean… kind of. She’s a little shaken up about the whole thing.”

“High school,” she says, shaking her head in sympathy. “It’s a tough one.”

“How would you know?” he asks cheekily.

“Believe it or not, Jason, I went to high school not too long ago,” she says and changes the subject before he can get a reply in. “So, what are your plans for today?”

“Homework,” he answers, shrugging. “Reading I guess. I don’t know. I think I still have stuff to unpack.”

“You want some help?”

“No.” He doesn’t mind Claire, or really have strong opinions on her either way, but he knows he doesn’t want her going through his things. Not now, probably not ever. “I can do it myself.”

“Okay,” she says, her voice quieter than normal. “Well if you change your mind you know where I am.”

He hums in agreement before half-jogging up the stairs to his room. He finds that the covers are still thrown back and his sheets rumpled and pulled off the corner. There’s also a large tear in the sheet, which will be a fun thing to explain to Claire. He flips the covers over it and stretches out on the bed. Mere hours ago, Veronica was here, snuggled next to him as they slept, using his chest as a pillow. And before that, she was kissing him everywhere and riding him, making him feel like a new person. Making him feel hers. And now, now he is hers. She came in through the window and stayed and ate his food and kissed him and held his hand and said she’ll see him on Monday. He knows how dumb and sappy it is, but he smiles at the memory, running his hand over the spot on his bed she had made hers last night.

How often can he say it’s a good day to live in Sherwood, Ohio?

#jdonica #jdonica ff #heathers ff #heathers the musical #au where jd's not a murderer and i don't cry #fic: not beyond repair #long post for ts

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danceyreagan · 6 years

Text

Isaiah Jesus~Can’t Win.

First Meeting. Second Meeting Third Meeting Moodboards

Walking down the street on his way to work Isaiah couldn’t help but think of Mona. For the past 24 hours thats was all he thought about. Flashes of her smile and the sound of her laugh invaded his brain. Man, oh Man, did she have a beautiful smile. The way her nose scrunched up and the extra twinkle in her eye, were his favorite things about her.

“Shit man. Get a grip, you’ve only met her a few times” he managed to mumble to himself as he almost plowed over a child on their way to school. Isaiah could not understand why his luck had been so bad. First his father out right embarrassed him, he choked on his drink, then he stepped in dog shit.

Maybe it’s karma for sleeping with all those women and never calling them back. “Nah, Mikey’s a proper whore, nothing ever happens to him” deep in thought he walked right passed the door to the betting shop.

“Oi! Isaiah, where you going?” Arthur shouted after him. Confused he turned around eyebrows furrowed in confusion looking to the left and right before “Sorry, wasn’t paying attention”

“Isaiah! Mate, heard about yesterday. What a shitty situation”. John of course would be the first one to bring this up.

Arthur failed to hold in his laughter but stopped when he saw the irritated look on Isaiahs face. He clapped his hand on the poor boys shoulder in attempt to make him feel better. “Im sure it wasn’t that bad”

Letting out a deep sigh, he turns to hang his coat and hat in an attempt to ignore them both.

“Leave the poor boy alone” Polly chimes in looking up from the stack of cash she was counting.

“Fucking Finn, cant keep his mouth shut”

“I didn’t tell them, it was your sister. For someone who loves church she’s a proper gossip”

John the incident to be hilarious and just could not let it go. “How you must’ve smelt mate! How embarrassing. And in front of Mona too?”

“Can we drop it?”

“No. Seriously, How’d you-“ before he could finish Polly cut him off.

“Hey Arthur, remember that time John took Martha to the pond and tried feed the ducks but he got too close”

This knocks the smile right off John’s face.

“Alright, enough, we better get to work before Tommy gets here”

“I remember that, The mother duck chased you around for 15 minutes and nearly bit your pinky finger off.”

“Shut up Arthur”

“Cried like a baby.”

“Yeah, well, whats this gotta do with Isaiah?”

“Well…”polly adds “If Martha married you after baring witness to that, what makes you think Mona wont give Isaiah a chance?”

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

Mona had no idea where the betting shop was located. She tried to stop and ask a few people for directions. One woman just shook her head at her “why would a respectable woman like you be looking for a place like that?”

“Well, thats hardly your business now is it? Either tell me where to go or be on your way”. The old woman scoffed and hurried away mumbling something about todays youth and a lack of respect for their elders.

Mona walked around for a few more minutes before finding the place.

Walking in she was a bit shocked at how large it was on the inside. She hesitated for a moment and took in her surroundings. She noticed a few offices lined up on the back wall and briefly wondered if Isaiah had his own office. She shook the thought out of her head and walked up to the nearest person nearest the door.

“Excuse me, is Finn Shelby here?”

Scudboat looked up confused for a second. He looked at Mona from top to bottom trying to figure out how she was associated with the youngest Shelby.

Mona had to clear her throat to finally get a response. “Oh, sorry. he’s in the old house, its just back that way. I better show you.”

He walked toward the green double doors that connect the house to the shop, Mona followed quickly behind him.

“If I were you I’d check the kitchen, its just to your right”

“Thank you…”

“Scudboat”

“Thank you, Scudboat”

Mona took a second to looks around the room. The house was definitely old but something about it felt welcoming. She ventured over to her right where she found the kitchen.

Michael and Isaiah were eating lunch, Isaiah had his back to the door so it was Michael who saw her first.

“Hey, Mona”

Isaiah’s head shot up and around so fast he almost fell out of his chair.

“Hi, Michael. Have you seen Finn?”

Isaiah was dumbstruck. This was definitely the last place he expected to see her. Too afraid to embarrass himself again he remained in his seat and quiet as a mouse.

“I think he’s upstairs. I’ll go get him for you”

Mona thanked him, and walked further into the kitchen.

“So…” she looks around the room taking her time to formulate her thoughts. “Step in any dog shit lately?”

Surprising even himself, Isaiah started to laugh.

That’s when she noticed it. Goodness did he have a nice smile.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You really do have the worst luck.”

“Or maybe you’re just bad luck”

“If thats the case you don’t get too close”

“Trust me, thats the last thing I want”

Mona didnt really know what to say in response, Isaiah was a bit obvious with his Intentions, she knew he was attracted to her and by all means she found him equally attractive. However, she knew what he did for a living wasn’t purely legal and she had no interest in that lifestyle.

Sensing that maybe he had said too much Isaiah changed the subject.

“What’ya need Finn for?”

“He asked me to help him find a birthday present for Tabby. You didn’t forget your sisters Birthday did you?”

“No, Im throwing her a party at the Garrison on Friday.”

Mona nodded in acknowledgement. “Sounds fun. Im sure she’ll love it”

Isaiah took a beat then continued.

“You know, Mona..If you’re not busy, maybe you could…”

Mona’s heartbeat was started to pick up, and she could sense he was about ask her out. She was almost certain, but she wasn’t quite sure how she would answer.

“If you’re not too busy that is-“

Next thing you know Tommy comes in the room, followed by Michael and Finn.

“Isaiah, Michael, back to work.”

“Ready to go?” Finn asks

“Yeah, come on” Mona never officially met Tommy but she knew he was Isaiah’s boss and didn’t want to get him in trouble so she tried to make a speedy exit with Finn. Mona turned back smiling at Michael and Isaiah before leaving, “see you later.” Isaiah smiled in response.

Damn, he has a nice smile.

@allaboutjoecole @thewanderingblinder @twistedrunes @pb-bonniegold

Please let me know what you guys think. Feedback is always welcome. Inbox Open.

#isaiah jesus #my peaky boo #Mona Mallory Jesus #Mona Mallory #peaky blinders

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chocolatequeennk · 7 years

Text

Forever and Never Apart, 39/42

Summary: After taking a year to recover from the Master, the Doctor and Rose are ready to travel again. But Time keeps pushing them forward, and instead of going back to their old life, they slowly realise that they’re stepping into a new life. Friends new and old are meeting on the TARDIS, and when the stars start going out, the Doctor and Rose face the biggest change of all: the return of Bad Wolf.

Series 4 with Rose, part 7 of Being to Timelessness; sequel to Taking Time (AO3 | FF.NET | TSP)

Betaed by @lastbluetardis, @rudennotgingr, @jabber-who-key, and @pellaaearien. Thank you so much!

This fills several Bad Wolf prompts on @doctorroseprompts

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10| Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15 | Ch 16 | Ch 17 | Ch 18 | Ch 19 | Ch 20 | Ch 21 | Ch 22 | Ch 23 | Ch 24 | Ch 25 | Ch 26 | Ch 27 | Ch 28 | Ch 29 | Ch 30 | Ch 31 | Ch 32 | Ch 33| Ch 34 | Ch 35 | Ch 36 | Ch 37 | Ch 38

Guys. You have no idea how excited I am for this chapter. I loved coming up with a solution to the Daleks that was original and fit the restrictions I'd placed on the story--Bad Wolf, but not with the Vortex power. I can't wait to hear what you think!

Chapter Thirty-nine: Time and Relative Dimension in Space

When Jack had first started crawling through the ventilation ducts, his wrist comp had indicated a large group of humans gathered together in the Crucible. A moment ago, the device had beeped, and he’d watched those dots—those indicators of life—flicker out.

Before helpless rage could set in, he realised there were still three human dots left outside the Vault, and they were close by. “Right,” he muttered to himself as he shimmied through the shaft to the closest access point. “You three are about to become my new best friends.”

He popped the access panel open and rolled out onto the floor. Flat on his back, he blinked a few times, then shot a cheeky grin at the familiar woman smirking down at him. Jack leapt to his feet and snapped a salute. “We meet at last, Miss Smith.”

He glanced at the couple standing behind Sarah Jane, and his eyes widened. “Jackie Tyler! You are honestly the last person I ever expected to meet onboard a Dalek stronghold.”

Rose’s mum frowned at him for a moment, then her expression cleared. “Oh, I remember you! You visited with Rose and the Doctor once, back before he changed his face.” She gestured to the man at her side. “This is my husband, Pete.”

Jack quickly shook Pete’s hand, then scanned the small group. “We’ve got to do something to help the Doctor.”

Sarah Jane nodded. “There is something we can do.”

She took a shuddering breath, and Jack had a feeling that whatever she was about to suggest was of the last resort variety.

“You’ve got to understand,” she said hurriedly. “I have a son down there on Earth. He’s only fourteen years old.”

Pete put a hand on her shoulder and nodded when Sarah Jane turned to look at him. “You don’t need to explain to us, Sarah Jane. We have a son, too. Whatever you want to do, if it will save the people down there on Earth, and on our Earth… we’re in.”

Jackie nodded in agreement.

Sarah Jane’s jaw tightened, and any hesitation she’d displayed disappeared. “I’ve brought this.” She pulled something out of her pocket, and when she unclenched her fist, a sparkling gem fell from her hand, dangling from a chain. “It was given to me by a Verron Soothsayer. He said, ‘This is for the End of Days.’”

She handed it to Jack, and he looked from the stone to Sarah Jane and back again. “Is that a Warp Star?” he asked, hardly daring to believe what he was holding. She nodded quickly, and Jack sucked in a breath. They might just have a chance, after all.

Jackie Tyler crossed her arms over her chest. “Someone mind telling the rest of us what a Warp Star is?” she snarked.

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the weapon as it spun and sparkled in his hands. “A warpfold conjugation trapped in a carbonised shell. It’s an explosion, Jackie.” Reluctantly, he looked at Sarah Jane again. “An explosion waiting to happen.”

Blowing up the Crucible was a last resort, as he’d suspected. But compared to some extreme measures he’d been forced to employ over the years, there was very little moral ambiguity in this plan. Destroy the Daleks, save reality. It was as simple as that.

His conscience pricked at him, and he knew there was one more thing the Doctor would want him to do before he blew up the space station. They had to give the Daleks a chance—a chance to leave and let them all live.

oOoOoOoOo

Martha fidgeted with a pen she’d found on the desk. Osterhagen Station Four had come online only a few minutes after she’d sent out the call, but the bloke manning the station was tight-lipped and grim-faced.

She tapped the pen on the desk while she waited for a third station to come online. She had a plan, but since the Osterhagen Keys only worked when three of them were activated, she couldn’t implement it until another operative joined them.

A burst of static caught her attention, and she looked up as the feed from China went live. “This is Osterhagen Station Five. Are you receiving, Station One?”

“I’ve got you.” Martha glanced at the two live screens. “That makes three of us, and three is all we need.”

“My name is Anna Zhou. What’s yours?”

“Martha Jones.” She looked right. “What about you, Station Four? You never said.”

The officer in Liberia shook his head. “I don’t want my name on this, given what we’re about to do.”

“So what happens now?” Anna asked, filling in the awkward silence following that grave pronouncement. “Do we do it?”

Martha shook her head. With three keys in place, they had the leverage they needed to possibly convince the Daleks to leave. They might have to use the Osterhagen Key in the end, but first…

She turned the square key over in her hands. “No. Not yet.”

Anna frowned. “UNIT instructions say, once three Osterhagen Stations are online—”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a higher authority, way above UNIT,” Martha cut in. She looked at the disk that would activate the nuclear warheads. “And there’s one more thing the Doctor would do.”

She’d thought of a way to give the Daleks a chance. Whether or not they took it would be up to them.

oOoOoOoOo

Bad Wolf felt like she was floating as she danced around the TARDIS console. Each movement she made was so automatic and sure, it was like she’d practised it a hundred times over.

“Davros gave us the key to his own downfall,” she mused. The timelines she’d sensed when he showed them his own skeletal body made sense now.

The TARDIS hummed in agreement as Rose keyed the carefully chosen coordinates into the navigation panel.

“He created the Daleks out of his own genetic material, which means…” She tapped a few buttons to test her theory and grinned when the TARDIS confirmed that genetically, every Dalek on that station was identical to each other and their creator. This plan would work.

Bad Wolf jolted slightly when she felt another mind connect with hers. She’d become so completely connected with the TARDIS as they’d worked on their plan to defeat the Daleks that every other telepathic connection had been almost forgotten.

Rose?

The name felt… wrong, somehow. Incomplete. But before she could correct the Doctor, the part of her being that belonged to Rose Tyler asserted herself. Bad Wolf remembered that while she was Bad Wolf, she was also Rose and the TARDIS, individually.

Yes, Doctor?

He hesitated for a second. Am I talking to Rose, right now? Or to Bad Wolf? I mean. I know Bad Wolf is Rose, but they’re also not Rose and I would like…

His ramble and frustrated sigh brought a smile to Rose’s face, and she reached for the bond. Bad Wolf watched as she gave the Doctor an affectionate telepathic caress that seemed so familiar. A moment later, they felt the Doctor relax under the soft touch.

If you have a plan, love, now would be an excellent time to set it in motion.

The obvious indication that they were on borrowed time brought Bad Wolf back to the front of Rose’s mind. Davros and the Daleks were threatening her Doctor. A glint of gold filled her vision as she typed the final command into the TARDIS terminal, and a moment later, her sonic screwdriver beeped as it received the software update.

She slid the device into her pocket, then pulled his sonic out of his coat on impulse and put that in her pocket as well. We’ll be there soon, she promised the Doctor. I’ll keep you safe, my Doctor.

oOoOoOoOo

The Doctor’s eyes widened when he recognised the voice of Bad Wolf. Rose still used that endearment, but he’d never heard it spoken with quite the same intonation as she’d used that first time—until now.

She was still Rose; that hadn’t been a lie. But her typical pink and gold telepathic aura was now shot through with a deeper gold as the TARDIS connected her to Time.

He’d worried before that Rose’s… well, Roseness—the essence of what made her Rose—would be subsumed if she ever merged with the TARDIS again. But in that brief conversation with her, she’d felt just as much like Rose has she had in four years of telepathic conversation. And then the reminder of the imminent danger had brought Bad Wolf to the fore, and Bad Wolf had been completely Bad Wolf while still being completely Rose.

The dynamic state of being two things at once had flummoxed Christian theologians for millennia. And now, having experienced it, he couldn’t explain her dual nature, not even with his big Time Lord brain. He could only shrug and say, as theologians did, that it just was.

The view screen turned back on, interrupting his existential musings. The Doctor straightened up when he saw Martha’s face onscreen.

“This message is for the Dalek Crucible. Repeat. Can you hear me?”

“Put me through,” the Doctor ordered the Daleks.

“It begins, as Dalek Caan foretold,” Davros said.

Propped up in his open casing, Caan giggled softly. “The Children of Time will gather once the Wolf has been silenced.”

Even though he knew Rose was fine, those words still aggravated a wound that was too fresh to be picked at. “Stop saying that.” He looked at Davros and made his demand again. “Put me through!”

“Doctor!” Martha said, and the Doctor felt a rush of relief that they could see each other. Her eyes shifted from right to left, and he tensed in anticipation of her next words. “Where’s Rose?”

Davros rolled forward. “We took the TARDIS and Rose Tyler, and we destroyed them together.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “The Doctor was powerless to help her.”

Martha blinked rapidly and opened and closed her mouth a few times. Then she tilted her head and looked at the Doctor. “She was with the TARDIS?”

He nodded, and he hoped he was the only one who could read the relief in Martha’s posture. Like Jack and Mickey, Martha knew enough to find a grain of hope in that fact.

“Enough chatter,” Davros interrupted. “State your intent.”

Martha held up something, and another rock landed in the pit of the Doctor’s stomach when he recognised an authorisation key for a missile.

“I’ve got the Osterhagen Key,” Martha said grimly. “Leave this planet and its people alone or I’ll use it.”

“Osterhagen what?” the Doctor sputtered. “What’s an Osterhagen Key?”

Martha’s shoulders lifted and fell as she drew a breath. “There’s a chain of twenty-five nuclear warheads placed in strategic points beneath the Earth’s crust,” she explained. “If I use the key, they detonate and… the Earth gets ripped apart.”

It was exactly the kind of ridiculous last resort weapon humans would invent. And of course UNIT wouldn’t tell him about it, because they knew exactly what his response would be.

“What? Who invented that?” The Doctor shook his head. “Well, someone called Osterhagen, I suppose. Martha, are you insane?” He regretted the words as soon as he said them, but this just sounded so un-Martha like that he couldn’t even comprehend what she was saying.

She set her jaw. “The Osterhagen Key is to be used if the suffering of the human race is so great, so without hope”—she nodded a few times, because they were almost to that point, and they both knew it—“that this becomes the final option.”

The Doctor shook his head violently. “That’s never an option.” He’d destroyed his own planet—he knew the weight of that choice. Even though he knew it had been a choice between Gallifrey and the universe, he still wondered if he could have found a way to save them all.

“Don’t argue with me, Doctor!” Martha shouted. “Because it’s more than that. Now, I reckon the Daleks need these twenty-seven planets for something. But what if it becomes twenty-six?” She held the key up, a feral smile on her face. “What happens then? Daleks?” She looked over at Davros. “Would you risk it?”

The Doctor blinked; now that sounded more like Martha.

“She’s good,” Mickey said, and the Doctor raised an eyebrow at the blatant admiration in the other man’s voice.

A second screen suddenly split off from the first, this one showing Jack, Sarah Jane, and—the Doctor gaped—Pete and Jackie. “What?” he mumbled, though really, by this point in the day, he should be beyond feeling shocked by anything.

“Captain Jack Harkness, calling all Dalek boys and girls.” Jack was holding a bundle of wires up in front of the camera. “Are you receiving me? Don’t send in your goons, or I’ll set this thing off.”

“He’s still alive?” Jenny gasped, staring at Jack. “And… Who’s that, behind Sarah Jane?”

The Doctor glanced over at his daughter, then at his mother-in-law onscreen. “Well. That’s… that’s your gran and granddad.”

He winced when Jackie shrieked, silenced almost immediately by Pete’s hand over her mouth. Off to the side in his own holding cell, Mickey chortled.

“Captain, what are you doing?” he asked Jack, choosing to focus on the universe ending and not the fact that he’d just given Jackie the biggest shock of her life. At least, he assumed meeting your alien grandchild trumped learning aliens existed.

“I’ve got a Warp Star wired into the mainframe,” Jack said, and the Doctor finally recognised what was holding the tangle of wires together. “I break this shell, the entire Crucible goes up.”

“You can’t—where did you get a Warp Star?” the Doctor asked, momentarily distracted by that curiosity.

“From me,” Sarah Jane interrupted, shaking her head behind Jack. “We had no choice. We saw what happened to the prisoners.”

Davros wheeled closer to the screen. “Impossible. That face. After all these years.”

Sarah Jane moved to stand in front of Jack. “Davros. It’s been quite a while. Sarah Jane Smith. Remember?”

“Oh, this is meant to be,” Davros breathed rapturously, and a muscle in Sarah’s jaw twitched. “The circle of Time is closing. You were there on Skaro at the very beginning of my creation.”

“And I’ve learnt how to fight since then.”

There was a bite to Sarah’s words that caught the Doctor by surprise. He looked from her to Martha, and he started to understand. They were making a stand, all of them.

Sarah Jane pressed her lips into a thin line, and when she spoke, every word was measured and sharp. “You let the Doctor go, or this Warp Star gets opened.”

“I’ll do it,” Jack promised. “Don’t imagine I wouldn’t.”

“Now that is what I call a ransom!” Donna crowed.

The Doctor pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth. This wasn’t how he would have chosen to challenge the Daleks, but he couldn’t help but be proud that none of his friends were cowering at home. They were all doing something, whatever they could.

“And the prophecy unfolds,” Davros gloated.

The Doctor blinked. “Prophecy?” he repeated. “What prophecy?”

“The Doctor’s soul is revealed,” Caan sang. “See him. See the heart of him.”

Davros leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers together, a vengeful smile creasing his sunken cheeks. “The man who abhors violence, never carrying a gun. But this is the truth, Doctor. You take ordinary people and you fashion them into weapons. Behold your Children of Time transformed into murderers. I made the Daleks, Doctor. You made this.”

The Doctor watched some of the fire go out of Martha, Jack, and Sarah Jane, and he shook his head quickly. “Not murderers, Davros. Defenders. Defenders of the Earth.” He nodded at Dalek Caan. “Caan was right. This shows you who I am. Not one of my friends was willing to just sit at home when you tried to take over the Earth.” A memory Rose had shared with him once came back to him, giving him the words to explain. “They didn’t give up or let things happen. They’re making a stand.”

He looked at all of his friends, now standing straight. “Would I have done things differently?” He shrugged. “Possibly. But I’m proud of all of them.”

Davros paused for a moment, and the Doctor knew his response hadn’t been what was expected. And not too long ago, he would have been lost to guilt.

“Would you still be proud of them if they gave their lives for you?” Davros challenged. “Your wife is not the only one who has sacrificed herself today, for their beloved Doctor. The Earth woman who fell opening the Subwave Network.”

“Who was that?” the Doctor asked, his stomach knotting as he braced for the answer.

“Harriet Jones,” Mickey told him.

The Doctor sucked in a breath. He’d barely thought about Harriet Jones of Flydale North since he’d had her removed from office almost four years ago.

“She gave her life to get you here,” Mickey added.

“How many more?” Davros goaded. “Just think. How many have died in your name?”

The Doctor looked at his friends, and he could see the truth in their eyes. They loved him, and they were here because of him, but not for him. They were here for the Earth, for their families, for all the people who didn’t have anyone to defend them.

And there were so many people who had made the same choice in his travels, the choice to put themselves in the path of danger to save a life or a planet. Their loss hurt, as it always did, but he couldn’t remember them without also remembering the people they’d saved. He wouldn’t cheapen their sacrifices by letting the guilt overwhelm him.

But Davros took his silence for guilty agreement, and he cackled. “The Doctor. The man who keeps running, never looking back because he dare not, out of shame. This is my final victory, Doctor. I have shown you yourself.”

Over the bond, Rose pulled him close. He felt a comforting warmth envelope him, as if she’d wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight. For a moment, they both remembered the friends they had lost—Anita, Morvin and Foon and Banakafalata, Solomon, and so many others who had sacrificed their lives to save others.

But Davros is right, love, Rose agreed. He’s shown you how you change people, how you give them the strength to be the best people they can be. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. And he’s shown me how much you’ve changed. I’m so proud of you for understanding the truth.

The silence hanging in the Vault was heavy with emotion, but the Supreme Dalek didn’t let it sit long. “Enough. Engage defence mechanism zero five,” he ordered abruptly.

The Doctor’s eyes widened. He knew what that meant, even if his friends didn’t.

Onscreen, Martha stood up, holding the missile key in her hand. “It’s the Crucible or the Earth,” she said, delivering her ultimatum.

“Transmat engaged,” a Dalek said, and blue light engulfed Martha.

“No!” she shouted. The Osterhagen Key fell useless to the ground as she was transmatted to the Crucible.

On the other screen, Jack, Sarah Jane, Jackie, and Pete disappeared as well. They reached the Vault at the same time and almost the same place as Martha, and when Martha stumbled into a rolling landing, Jack helped her to her feet.

“I’ve got you. It’s all right.”

“Don’t move, all of you,” the Doctor warned his friends. “Stay still.” He reached for them, then silently cursed the containment field that was in his way.

“Guard them!” Davros cried, pointing at the newcomers. “On your knees, all of you. Surrender!”

Martha, Sarah Jane, Jack, Jackie, and Pete all looked to him for guidance, and the Doctor nodded his head quickly. “Do as he says.”

A Dalek slowly rolled towards them, and Jackie was the first to get on her knees with her hands behind her head. Pete was right behind her.

Mickey put his hands on his hips and glared at Pete. “I can’t believe you brought Jackie.”

Pete rolled his eyes, and the Doctor could guess the truth before he said it. “She came on her own.”

Jackie tilted her head back and scowled at the Doctor. “Good thing I did, or I wouldn’t know I had a granddaughter.”

“The final prophecy is in place,” Davros purred as he rolled towards them. “The Doctor and his children, all gathered as witnesses.”

Jack and the Doctor exchanged a glance—Jack questioning, the Doctor trying to reassure him without words that there was a plan in place.

Davros looked up at the main level of the Crucible above them. “Supreme Dalek, the time has come.” He pointed victoriously at the ceiling. “Now, detonate the Reality Bomb!” he shrieked, the words echoing through the Vault.

The floor vibrated as the mechanism was set in motion. At the same time, the Doctor felt the TARDIS shift into the Time Vortex.

“You can’t, Davros!” he insisted, continuing to play his part. “Just listen to me! Just stop!”

Davros threw his head back and laughed, sounding every bit like the mad scientist he was. “Nothing can stop the detonation. Nothing and no one!”

The Doctor couldn’t hide his smirk when he heard the first hint of the familiar sound of the TARDIS engines, a second before anyone else caught it. Dalek Caan giggled, and the Doctor shot him a quick glance, still unsure exactly what role the insane Dalek had played in the events of the day.

Wind rushed around them as the outline of the TARDIS appeared. “But that’s the TARDIS,” Donna said. “I thought… and Rose…”

Mickey shook his head. “Rose Tyler in the TARDIS? That’s a hard combination to beat.”

Jenny’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh, I knew it!” she crowed, clapping happily and bouncing lightly on her toes.

The TARDIS materialised on the edge of the room, and Davros rolled back a few feet. “Impossible,” he whispered.

The Doctor rocked back on his heels, with his hands stuck in his pockets. “Oh… I learned a long time ago that nothing’s impossible for Rose Tyler.”

oOoOoOoOo

After kissing the Doctor’s cheek and letting him know how proud she was of him, Rose pulled back enough from the bond to focus on the details of her rescue. That moment with the Doctor had served a second purpose. She’d been able to see the Vault through his eyes—important, because the success of the next part of the plan was largely dependent on the selection of her hiding place.

She’d just settled on a small corner tucked away behind a computer terminal when the image on the monitor flickered and then changed to show the arrangement of planets glowing again. Her eyes widened, and she took a deep breath and looked at the time rotor.

“Are you ready, old girl?” Out of everything they’d planned, this was the part that seemed the most incredible to Rose. Bad Wolf knew it would work; Rose Tyler thought it was almost impossible.

I am part of you, my Wolf, just as you are part of me, the TARDIS reminded her. We don’t need the power of infinite Time to travel through time and space.

Rose nodded. “All right then. Let’s do it.” The time rotor moved up and down, and at the same time, the console room faded from Rose’s sight as she sent herself separately into the Vault.

Rose had used a Vortex Manipulator before, but that was nothing like travelling through the Vortex as one who belonged there. Time whipped around her as she crossed the short distance, until she rematerialised behind the computer terminal, exactly as she’d planned.

The gold haze was still clearing from her vision when Rose peeked around the edge of the computer terminal to assess the situation. In addition to everyone who had been in the TARDIS, Martha and Sarah Jane were there along with—Rose had to press her hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp—her mum and Pete.

Every eye was focused on the TARDIS, who had positioned herself on the edge of the room. Hidden safely from view, Rose watched the Doctor. He was rocking back on his heels with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh… I learned a long time ago that nothing’s impossible for Rose Tyler,” he told Davros, in response to a comment Rose hadn’t heard.

For a moment, Rose’s grin matched his. Then a mad glint entered Davros’ eyes and he pointed a shaking hand at the Doctor. “Exterminate him!” he shrieked, angry spittle gathering on his chin.

Daleks rolled towards the Doctor, chanting, “Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate.”

With the threat to their Doctor, Bad Wolf once more moved to the front of Rose’s mind. Her fingers danced over the controls on the terminal until she found the ones she needed and pressed them gleefully.

A low hum echoed around the room as every single Dalek weapon was rendered useless. The Daleks circling the Doctor looked down at their death rays, like children whose favourite toys had been taken away.

“Weapons non-functional,” they croaked morosely.

Rose straightened up so they could see her. Gasps echoed around the Vault and her mum cried her name, but Rose focused on Davros, whose hollow eyes glared at her balefully.

“Yeah, did you really think I was going to let you kill him?” she demanded. “I might not be able to stop your laser bolts in midair anymore, but I can still shut all your weapons off thanks to this handy terminal that lets me into your mainframe. So you might as well just point those egg beaters somewhere else, because they aren’t going to do you any good.”

The Doctor blinked rapidly. “How did you get over there?” he asked, looking from her to the TARDIS and back again.

Rose winked at him. “Bad Wolf means I’m both me and I’m the TARDIS. Anything the TARDIS can do, I can do. Such as disappearing from one place and reappearing in another.”

The Doctor opened and shut his mouth a few times before finally shaking his head. “Of course you can,” he said, a smile stretching across his face.

Flush with the success of her first task, Rose jumped when the Supreme Dalek started the final countdown to detonation. She’d almost forgotten about the Reality Bomb. Davros turned the view screen back on, and they all watched the energy being channelled through the twenty-seven planets.

Davros steepled his hands together and a malicious grin stretched his face unnaturally. “Your mate is alive, your TARDIS is here, and yet you are still helpless, Doctor.”

“Detonation in twenty rels,” the Supreme Dalek announced over the tannoy.

“Stand witness, Time Lords,” Davros whispered as the Supreme Dalek continued the countdown. “Stand witness, humans. Your strategies have failed, your weapons are useless, and—Oh.” His lips twisted into a mocking smile. “The end of the universe has come,” he said as they all watched the glowing planets.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Or, I don’t know.” She pushed another button on the terminal, and the ominous buzz of energy building in the weapon faded as the Z-neutrino relays were shut down. “Maybe not?” she said nonchalantly when the view screen turned off.

The Doctor laughed as an alarm sounded through the Vault. Davros and the Daleks were rolling around, completely baffled, but he knew exactly what had happened.

“System in shutdown,” said one Dalek.

“Detonation negative,” another announced.

“Explain. Explain. Explain!” the Supreme Dalek demanded.

“You’ll suffer for this,” Davros cried and pointed his finger at Rose.

The Doctor frowned; what exactly did Davros think he was going to do by just pointing a finger at Rose? Then he saw the bolt of energy travelling down the scientist’s arm, and his gaze flew to Rose.

Rose just smirked and pushed a button on her computer terminal, and the electrical bolt that was travelling down Davros’ finger reversed and he electrocuted himself, instead of Rose.

Davros shrieked in pain when the electricity engulfed him, and the Doctor laughed again. “Hoisted by your own petard, Davros.”

“Seemed fitting,” Rose said, her tongue peeking out behind her teeth.

“Oh, I absolutely agree,” the Doctor said. “Bad Wolf, saving the day single-handedly.”

Rose raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, you could help if you wanted. Why’re you just standing over there?” she asked. The Doctor tapped the side of the holding cell, and she nodded quickly. “Oops! Sorry, Doctor.” She bent over the terminal for a moment, then smiled up at him. “That should do it.”

He saw the containment field shut off and ran over to her while she pressed another button that sealed the Vault off from the rest of the Crucible. “Rose Tyler,” he breathed as he pulled her into his arms, unable to resist a quick hug. The golden energy he could see fluctuating beneath her skin sent a charge through him when he touched her. “You are so impressive, love.”

She spun out of his arms and shot him a cheeky grin. “Oh, I know,” she promised him. “And now I think it’s time to send some planets home. We’ve stopped the bomb—let’s completely dismantle it.”

“Stop them!” Davros ordered hysterically. “Get them away from the controls.”

Rose rolled her eyes and worked quickly at the terminal. “You’re so fond of those holding cells; why don’t you spend some time in one yourself?”

The Doctor rubbed his hands together gleefully as the blue energy walls of the containment fields lowered. A large wall separated Davros and the bulk of the Daleks in the other half of the room, where they couldn’t do any damage. The rest she trapped in groups of two or three.

I don’t know why you wanted my help, Rose. You seem to be handling them by yourself just fine.

Rose looked back at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched seductively. There are lots of things I can handle by myself that are more fun with your help.

The Doctor choked on his laughter and tugged on his tie. You’ll have to show me later.

Oh, I will.

He laughed when Rose winked outrageously before bending over the computer terminal. Her lips moved as she muttered to herself, and he rocked back on his heels to watch her work. All teasing aside, she really did have things nicely handled all by herself.

The sound of Daleks spinning in helpless circles caught his attention, and when he looked away from Rose, he saw their entire family watching them. Jenny, Donna, Jack, Martha, Mickey, Sarah Jane, and Pete and Jackie—all alive because of Rose.

The Doctor frowned when Jack broke away from the group and ran into the TARDIS. What is he up to?

Jack had to hand it to Rose; so far, every one of her plans had been flawless. She’d arrived at the perfect moment, eliminated the Dalek threat, stopped Davros from blowing up all of reality… He scanned the Vault, his eyes never settling in one place for long. Things were going perfectly, and it was his job to make sure there were no hidden surprises.

Unlike everyone else, he hadn’t laughed when Rose trapped the Daleks behind the containment fields. Rose had taken care of the Dalek threat in the Vault… for now. But these weren’t the only Daleks around, and he was under no illusion that the Supreme Dalek and his pals upstairs would let them ruin all their hard work.

He shook his head and ran into the TARDIS. The guns he and Mickey had brought with them were just inside the door, and he grabbed them and ran back out.

“Mickey!” His friend spun around, and Jack tossed the second weapon to him.

“What are you doing, Jack?” the Doctor demanded as Mickey caught the gun handily.

Jack shook his head. “Just being prepared for the worst,” he explained. “Rosie here seems to have everything well in hand, but… well, I’d rather not be caught off-guard.”

Bad Wolf felt a wave of affection and appreciation for this human she had condemned to eternity. There were reasons for that, reasons that he wouldn’t fully understand until he used his last breath to offer the Doctor and Rose a warning they wouldn’t understand until it was too late. But despite the fact that Time had insisted on this path, her humanness deeply regretted the pain it had caused him.

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest, and Rose put her hand on his arm and smiled up at him. “It’s fine, Doctor. Now. We’ve got twenty-seven planets to send home. Activate magnetron.”

“Stop this at once!” Davros cried futilely from the other side of the containment field.

She snorted. “You’re not really in a position to be making demands,” she pointed out. Then she turned and looked at the Doctor, one eyebrow raised. “Ready to finish this?” she murmured.

The Doctor caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I’m always ready to save the universe at your side.”

He took his place on the other side of the terminal. They each reached for a pair of rods that would demagnetise the planets and send them home where they belonged.

“Off you go, Clom,” the Doctor said. “And back home, Adipose Three.”

Rose’s fingers tingled as she pulled on her controls. “Shallacatop, Pyrovillia, and the Lost Moon of Poosh. All back where you belong.”

The power meter dipped, and Rose tossed the Doctor his sonic screwdriver. “Can you take care of that?”

He caught the tool handily, with a toothy grin on his face. “I’m on it.” He bent down and shifted a few settings on the terminal, letting them reroute power from areas of the Crucible that didn’t need it.

During the brief lull in activity, Jenny jogged over and wrapped Rose in a hug from behind. “I thought you were dead for a little bit,” she whispered.

Rose squeezed Jenny’s hands, then pulled her around to stand beside her. “But I’m here now,” she said softly.

“Yeah, about that,” Donna started. Then she stared at Rose and blinked a few times. “You’re… glowing,” she said. “I mean, never mind the rest of it—how you survived the Z-neuron energy or whatever it’s called, and how you even got here… Your skin is glowing, Rose.”

Jackie left Pete standing with Mickey and walked over to them. Rose winked at her over Donna’s shoulder, then said, “I get my youthful glow from my mum.”

Jackie snorted. “Oh, don’t even try it. There’s no beauty creme that can do that.” She took Rose’s hand and held her arm up. “You can see the light shifting, look. So, come on then—what’s this mean, you’re part you and part TARDIS?”

The Doctor straightened up from the terminal and exchanged a grin with Rose. “Well, for one thing,” the Doctor drawled as they continued sending planets back where they belonged. “You know how you and Donna are always teasing me about Rose being a better driver than I am, Jenny?”

“That’s because she is, Dad,” Jenny said frankly.

“Oi!”

Rose giggled as she sent Woman Wept back to its home system. “And this is why. I promise we’ll explain it better later when we have more time, but the short version is that I can… merge with the TARDIS.”

“My daughter is part spaceship,” Jackie said faintly.

Donna looked from the ship back to Rose, who nodded, encouraging her to continue. “And while the ship was landing, you materialised over here, just like she does.”

“Exactly!” Rose bobbed her head. “You’re brilliant, Donna.”

For once, Donna didn’t argue.

Just as the Doctor was congratulating himself and Rose for handling that complicated explanation, Jackie narrowed her eyes at him. The Doctor stared back at her with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Well, that’s one question answered,” she said. “But I’ve got another one. How long has it been for you two, if this is my granddaughter?” She pointed to Jenny and lifted her chin in challenge.

The Doctor winced when Rose looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You told her?” she hissed.

“It just slipped out!” He pulled his rods again and sent Callufrax Minor and Jahoo back. “And Jackie, it’s not like that,” he continued. “Jenny is…”

Don’t you dare tell my mum your daughter isn’t mine! Rose ordered.

And just in time. The Doctor snapped his mouth shut when he realised exactly how that would have sounded to Jackie. “Um… it’s complicated,” he said, his voice weak.

Thankfully, Davros started talking again, interrupting any other questions Jackie might have had. “But you promised me, Dalek Caan.” He spun in his chair to look at Dalek Caan. “Why did you not foresee this?”

Dalek Caan cackled, confirming the Doctor’s suspicions. “Oh, I think he did. Because someone was there the whole time, making sure we got the information we needed. Who made sure that fortune teller on Shan Shen would target Rose, so she’d get the glimpse of the alternate timelines and dream of Mickey telling her the stars were going out?”

“This would always have happened.” Caan waved his tentacles. “I only helped, Doctor.”

“You betrayed the Daleks?” Davros asked incredulously.

Caan’s single eye glared at Davros. “I saw the Daleks,” he corrected hotly. “What we have done, throughout time and space—I saw the truth of us, Creator, and I decreed, ‘no more!’”

A shudder ran through the Doctor. He had used those words once too, to declare an end to the Time War. They’d beat a steady rhythm in his head through those final days of the war—no more.

He felt a hand slip into his, and he looked over at Rose, who’d left her side of the console to offer him this little bit of comfort.

A hatch opened in the ceiling, and Jack lifted his weapon when the Supreme Dalek slowly lowered himself into the Vault. “Heads up!” he called out.

“Davros, you have betrayed us,” the Supreme Dalek said ominously.

“It was Dalek Caan,” Davros protested.

“The Vault will be purged. You will all be exterminated,” the Supreme Dalek said, then fired a laser bolt at the control panel, sending Donna and Jenny to the floor.

Jack shook his head and primed his weapon. “Like I was saying, feel this!”

He’d turned the energy blast up all the way, and the broad beam was powerful enough to blow the top off the heavily armoured Dalek.

The Doctor barely noticed Jack dispatching the Supreme Dalek. As soon as the blast had sent Jenny and Donna flying, he’d ducked around the computer terminal to check on them.

“You all right?” he asked in a low voice as he helped them to their feet.

Donna put a hand to her forehead and shook her head slowly. “Fine, Spaceman. I think I might have a bit of a headache later, though.” She gestured at the terminal. “Go on, finish up here so we can go home.”

“Easier said than done,” Rose said. “That blast destroyed the magnetron. We managed to get every planet back where it belonged first… except one. And guess which one that is.”

The Doctor turned and looked at her. “If the Earth is the only one left, we can use the TARDIS to take it home.”

Rose stood up from where she’d crouched behind the terminal, and for a moment, the Doctor thought he saw a glint of gold in her eyes. “You take care of the Earth, my Doctor. I will take care of the Daleks.”

The Doctor looked at her, then at Davros. “I’m on it,” he promised. Then he reached up into the mass of wires dangling over the computer terminal. Rose could see the plans in his mind as easily as those in her own, and she knew he was stabilising the atmospheric shell around the Earth so it would remain in place while they pulled the planet back to the solar system.

Bad Wolf looked at Davros, who was now cowering in his chair after seeing the amount of firepower Jack carried. The TARDIS had nearly lost her Thief and her Wolf to this race too many times to count. She knew this would not be the last time they were a threat, but it was time to end this round.

“The prophecy must complete,” Dalek Caan said.

Bad Wolf nodded and pulled her sonic screwdriver out of her pocket, then carefully checked the setting.

“Don’t listen to him,” Davros ordered.

At the same time, the Doctor pushed a wave of confidence and trust towards her. Do what needs to be done, Rose, he said as he jogged into the TARDIS.

Dalek Caan didn’t seem to be bothered by the Doctor’s sudden disappearance. “I have seen the end of everything Dalek, and you must make it happen, Bad Wolf.”

The sympathy Rose felt for this one Dalek brought her mind to the forefront. She nodded. “You’ll be alone,” she warned him. Well. At least until the station breaks down completely from the pressure of having a wormhole open up in the centre of it.

Dalek Caan waved a tentacle at her, and she knew he understood his fate. “I will die, Bad Wolf. And I am ready. Are you?”

In answer, Rose flipped the switch on the computer terminal that turned off the containment fields. Then she held up her sonic screwdriver and depressed the button. The air rippled at the centre of the Vault, then like a curtain on a play, it parted to reveal a shimmering wormhole.

Davros was the first to be pulled into the wormhole. His chair skidded over the floor as he worked with his joystick frantically, trying to stay on the Crucible.

“You, Bad Wolf!” he shrieked as he reached the event horizon. “Never forget that you did this!”

Rose crossed her arms and watched as the Daleks were pulled into the wormhole one by one. She wouldn’t forget she’d done this, but she wouldn’t regret it either—not if it meant saving the Doctor and the Earth and all of reality.

A loud cracking sound warned her that the power of the wormhole was already damaging the integrity of the station, and she turned to her family. “Get into the TARDIS,” she hollered as the computer terminal caught on fire.

When everyone else faltered, too confused and overwhelmed to move, Jack pushed Donna and Jenny towards the door. “Come on, you heard the lady.” His words prodded the rest of them into motion, and less than a minute later, they were all safely on the ship.

Alone on the Crucible, Rose watched the steady stream of Daleks flowing towards the black hole. No Daleks escaped the trap. Just like what had happened at Canary Wharf, the pull was powerful enough to draw in every Dalek on every Dalek ship and from anywhere on Earth.

The Doctor came up beside her and took her hand, and together they watched in silence as the last of the Daleks was sucked through the wormhole. There was no manic energy this time, no joyful, “Pulling them all in!” Instead, they shared the quiet conviction that they’d done what had been necessary to save the universe.

The air rippled again as the wormhole closed, leaving the Vault in silence. “You must go,” Dalek Caan ordered, his voice warbling. “You must go, and I must die.”

The TARDIS knew to the second how much longer the Crucible would remain intact, which meant Rose did too. She nodded at Dalek Caan and turned to go back to the TARDIS. When the Doctor remained stationary, she paused and frowned up at him.

He squeezed her hand once, then let go. I’ll be right behind you, love, he promised. Rose nodded, then spun around and ran into the TARDIS.

The Doctor looked at the naked form of the Dalek, struggling to reconcile his ingrained hatred with his gratitude for what had just happened.

“Thank you,” he finally told the Dalek in a low voice.

The Dalek simply waved his tentacles at him. “This was what time foretold, Time Lord. Now go!”

A beam fell from the ceiling right in front of the Doctor. He stumbled back a few steps, then turned and ran for the ship. As soon as he shut the doors behind him, Rose threw the lever and took them off the Crucible, less than a minute before the explosion they both knew was coming. The time rotor started moving with a loud churning noise, and they held their breath until they felt the ship slide through the Vortex, then materialise on the other side of the Earth, safely away from the explosion.

Rose blew out a loud breath. “Well, that was cutting it a bit closer than I anticipated.”

“What exactly did you do?” Martha asked. “You just… pressed a button on your screwdriver, and suddenly a giant hole opened up in the middle of the room.”

Rose rocked back on her heels and put her hands in her pockets, and the Doctor knew he was the only one who could see the melancholy lurking behind her confidence. “We just opened a wormhole between the Crucible and the heart of a black hole.”

The Doctor sucked in a breath at the perfection of the plan, and Rose flashed him a smile before continuing.

“And we set it to lock onto their shared genetic structure—kinda like the black hole was the positive side of a magnet, and their DNA was the negative side. They couldn’t escape getting pulled in.”

Their friends stared at her, and Rose’s eyes glinted. “It’s the perfect prison,” she stated confidently. “They’ll never be able to get out of a black hole.”

The Doctor squeezed her hand. “And a perfect prison, even an endless one, is better than genocide. You found a way to remove them from reality without killing them.”

His thumb brushed against hers. I’m proud of you.

Thank you, Doctor.

Mickey shook his head. “Yeah, it’s a brilliant plan. That’s not why we’re all looking at you like you grew another head. You opened a wormhole?” he repeated.

“You heard me say Bad Wolf is part TARDIS, yeah?” Mickey nodded, and Rose raised an eyebrow. “Well, what does a TARDIS do?”

His confused frown smoothed out. “They open wormholes.”

“Anyway!” the Doctor said, before their family could bury Rose under the deluge of questions he imagined they had. “I think we still have a planet to get home, don’t we?”

“That’s right!” Sarah Jane exclaimed. “The Earth is still in the wrong part of space.”

He grinned at her and pressed a button on the terminal, calling Torchwood. “I’m on it. Torchwood Hub, this is the Doctor. Are you receiving me?”

The TARDIS monitor turned on, showing an industrial-looking room and a frightened but determined woman. “Loud and clear,” she said. “What did you do to the Daleks? One of them had almost gotten into the Hub, and then suddenly it went flying through the air and disappeared.”

The Doctor glanced up at Rose. “Let’s just say Rose sent them packing on a one-way trip.” Rose rolled her eyes at his Aladdin quote, and he giggled happily.

“Oi!”

The sharp retort came from the Welsh woman, and the Doctor felt his ears get hot. “Yes. Sorry.” She seemed awfully familiar, to both him and to Rose. “Jack, what’s her name?”

“Gwen Cooper.”

An idea tickled the edges of the Doctor’s mind. “Tell me, Gwen Cooper, are you from an old Cardiff family?”

She blinked and nodded. “Yes, all the way back to the eighteen hundreds.”

“Ah, thought so.” He looked at Rose and they shared a grin. “Spatial genetic multiplicity.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rose agreed, sharing the memory of another Gwyneth from Cardiff with him.

“Yeah, it’s a funny old world,” the Doctor said, then forced himself back on track. He’d arranged for the atmospheric shell around the Earth to hold for little bit longer, but it wouldn’t stay forever. “Now, Torchwood, I want you to open up that rift manipulator. Send all the power to me.”

A sharply dressed man stuck his head in front of the monitor. “Doing it now, sir.”

“What’s that for?” Donna asked.

The Doctor looked up at her as he placed another call. “It’s a tow rope. Now then, Sarah, what was your son’s name?”

A bright smile crossed his old friend’s face. “Luke. He’s called Luke. And the computer’s called Mr. Smith.”

“Calling Luke and Mr. Smith. This is the Doctor. Come on, Luke. Shake a leg.” Sarah Jane had her hands clasped in front of her, and he could easily understand her anxiety.

But there was no need to worry. Luke ran into the video frame, a wide, hopeful smile on his face. “Is Mum there?”

“Oh yeah, she’s brilliant,” Rose assured him.

The Doctor enjoyed the matching smiles that lit up mother and son’s faces. Sarah Jane danced in place and cried out “Yes!” a few times as he explained what he needed to Luke.

“Yeah, we all made it out,” he told Luke. “Now, Mr. Smith, I want you to harness the rift power and loop it around the TARDIS. You got that?”

“I regret I will need remote access to TARDIS base code numerals,” the computer answered, his voice smooth and unemotional.

The Doctor straightened and raked his hand through his hair. “Oh, blimey, that’s going to take a while.”

“No, no, no,” Sarah Jane said, pushing him away from the monitor to talk to her family. “Let me. K9, out you come!

K9 teleported into the room beside Luke. “Affirmative, Mistress.”

The Doctor laughed gleefully. “Oh! Oh ho! Oh, good dog!” he praised. “K9, give Mr. Smith the base code.”

“Master.” The antenna probe in K9’s forehead extended as he rolled towards Mr. Smith. “TARDIS base code now being transferred,” he said as he pressed the probe to a port in the computer. “The process is simple.”

While everyone else was distracted by the robot dog and the activity at Sarah Jane’s house, Rose pressed her hands to the console. The Doctor watched her carefully and realised almost immediately what she was doing. The two strands of his bonds with Rose and the TARDIS separated, and the golden light pulsing under her skin flowed out of her hands and back into the TARDIS.

When Rose was alone in her body again, he wrapped an arm around her waist so no one else would notice the way she slumped. She leaned into him and took a few deep breaths, then she straightened and smiled up at him. Thank you, love.

For a moment, the Doctor got lost in the gold flecks still glittering in her eyes. The reminder of the power she could wield—the power that came most readily to keep him safe—awed and humbled him. He returned her smile. Anything for my Bad Wolf.

“We’re ready,” Luke said.

The Doctor blinked, then looked at the monitor. “All right Luke, thank you. I’m going to end the call for now. Your mum should be home in less than an hour, all right?” Luke nodded, and the Doctor turned the monitor off.

“What now, Dad?” Jenny asked.

The Doctor pushed back from the console. “Well, now we fly the Earth home.” He hustled Sarah Jane back to her earlier position and pointed at a lever. “Sarah, hold that down. Mickey, you hold that,” he added, pointing to a dial. “Because you know why this TARDIS always is always rattling about the place?”

On the other side of the console, Rose was showing Martha, Donna, and Jenny which controls they could use. Then she took the last place, one hand resting the velocity dial and the other on the dematerialisation lever. She looked up and winked at the Doctor, and he grinned back at her before finishing his rambling lesson on TARDIS flight.

“It’s designed to have six pilots, and Rose and I do it with just two. But not any more. Look at you, flying her like she’s meant to be flown.” He patted a strut. “We’ve got the Torchwood rift looped around the TARDIS by Mr. Smith, and we’re going to fly Planet Earth back home.”

Rose picked up on her cue and threw the lever. The time rotor moved slowly, with the weight of an entire planet behind the ship, but without the clunky chugging sound that usually accompanied their flight. Mickey was doing his job then with the stabiliser. That was a nonessential step in the flight manual that the Doctor simply didn’t have hands to handle, but feeling the smoothness of their flight, he was starting to think he ought to find a way.

Pete and Jackie were standing behind the jump seat, looking uncomfortable and out of place. The Doctor circled the console and smiled awkwardly at them. “No room for us at the console, though.”

Jackie stared at Rose. “That’s my daughter.”

The Doctor nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“And she’s… She just looks like she belongs here.”

Pride beat through the Doctor’s hearts as he watched Rose operate her own controls, while also helping Jenny and Donna, who stood on either side of her. He stepped forward quickly to adjust Sarah Jane’s hold on her lever, then looked back at Jackie.

“I know this isn’t the life you imagined for Rose when she was a girl, but I’ve never met anyone in a thousand years who belonged on the TARDIS as much as she does.” He rubbed his thumb over his wedding band. “I lived this life without her for centuries, and she just makes everything so much better.”

To his surprise, Jackie suddenly threw herself into his arms. “Thank you,” she whispered into his suit jacket.

The Doctor blinked at Pete over her head, then shrugged and hugged her back. He could feel Rose gaping at them from the other side of the console.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked his mother-in-law.

Jackie pulled back and wiped her eyes.“I knew you loved Rose, but I still thought she was just your assistant. Regular Rose, I mean—when she’s not all glow-y and getting rid of Daleks. But the golden light is gone, and you’re still treating her like your partner.”

Ah.

The Doctor shook his head. “Bad Wolf is Rose’s story, so I’ll let her explain when she’s ready. But for me…” He looked over his shoulder. Rose was leaning over Jenny’s controls, reaching for another dial. She felt him watching her, and the tongue-touched smile she gave him in reply made his hearts skip a beat. “Rose has always been my partner.”

The TARDIS hummed in his mind, and he realised they were almost to the end of the line. “Excuse me, Jackie.”

Rose already had her hand on the lever when he joined her at the console, and she arched her eyebrow when he purposely wrapped his hand around hers. The Doctor returned her smirk with one of his own.

What was it you said earlier, love? There are lots of things I can handle by myself that are more fun with your help.

Their laughter echoed around the console room as they threw the lever together, putting the Earth back right where she belonged.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #dwfic #fic by Nancy #doctorroseprompts #series: Being to Timelessness #cq's fic: forever and never apart #bad wolf!rose is important to me #we are finally here!#I can't wait to hear what you think #seriously #sarah jane smith #mickey smith #jackie tyler #pete tyler #jenny tyler #donna noble #martha jones #jack harkness

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m-feys · 3 years

Text

ok heres one of my torchwood wips T-T bc im feeling smth, its about ianto and rhiannon in my ianto lives au

Ianto sat down across from her, he’d already taken off his coat and she’d already set a cuppa out for him. This was starting to become routine, and Ianto was beginning to feel intimidated by that fact. It’s more than they’ve ever had between them, more truth and more connection, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

After the 456 he’d vowed to himself to visit her more often, especially being sure to spend time with the kids. Mica was still consumed by the Xbox most afternoons when he entered, but when they went out to the movies, she would chatter on the way back about all her favorite parts, particularly the explosions, and David would threaten to steal her candy but would always give some of his to her instead and Ianto cherished it. He found that those times also made him painfully nostalgic for his own childhood, but it was a minor note in a bigger concert.

On his visits to see Rhiannon, she mostly did the talking. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them. He gave comment where it was needed to keep her talking and listened as she gossiped about her friends and which of the neighbour’s kids kept climbing through the fence across the street.

And Rhiannon wasn’t subtle, she never, ever, had been. So when she asks about Torchwood it’s always, “Heard everybody was seeing these great, big halos the other night, that one of yours?” And when she tries to nudge him into mentioning Jack, it’s, “that boss of yours, he treatin’ you alright?” Ianto gets the feeling if he said that Jack had /not/ been treating him right she might have offered to beat his face for him. That idea makes him feel ridiculously fond.

“He’s treating me perfectly well, thank you,” he answers each time, she knows better than to think she’s getting more than that. Especially with Johnny sitting in the recliner behind them, mocking the enemies in Mica’s video game.

Johnny’s out today though, and even though he already knows, Ianto refuses to mention anything remotely informative about his life with the man in earshot. He doesn’t hate him, respects him a great deal more after the incident with 456, in fact, but the man is far too loud, about /everything/, for Ianto’s tastes.

Mica, who has her friend with two mums, is still situated on the couch when Rhiannon speaks.

“And how’s that man of yours?”

Ianto falters, because this is a break in the pattern.

“He’s fine…” he answers awkwardly, “he’s not… /mine/,” he points out reluctantly, heartbeat speeding up and cataloging the most logical excuses to leave at any given second.

“Really?” she asks, mouth curling up slightly, “you seein’ other people, then?”

Ianto shrugs, floundering like he always seems to when he’s trying to explain his current life to Rhiannon, to put it in terms she can cope with, ideas that aren’t too outrageous. “He said…” he starts slowly, letting out a breath through his nose, “he said he would stay,” he admits softly. It’s not much of his life, but it’s not nothing, not by a long shot. At least this is /true/.

Her eyebrows go up, lips parting in surprise, still smiling, almost edging into a grin now. “That’s big?”

Ianto doesn’t break his mask of neutrality, but he relaxes it just a bit, “yes,” he breathes.

“So it’s a bit like he /is/ your man, then?” she points out, wrinkling her nose with a smile, teasing.

He sighs, taking care to ensure he sounds supremely put-upon. “If you insist on calling him that, then /yes/.” Inwardly, he’s grinning like a git, hearing people refer to them in romantic terms always sends butterflies through Ianto’s stomach, and hearing it from his sister is making that feeling even more precious. He cares what she thinks of him, even if for a long time he wished he hadn’t.

“Well, seein’ as you haven’t even told me his name, I gotta call him something.”

Ianto hesitated, then he supposed that there couldn’t be any harm in just one name, it was a fairly common one, after all, that was by design on Jack’s part.

“Jack,” he allows.

“Jack,” she repeats, sounding the name out curiously, grinning all the while.

---

The question turns into, “well, how’s Jack?” from then on, and Ianto suddenly regrets everything. He’s crossed lines he can’t uncross and his /sister/ is referring to Jack by name, with the knowledge that he’s his boss, and also maybe his /man/, and all other sorts of euphemisms she could come up with to refer to them. /What/ had he been /thinking/?

“He’s fine,” is all he says. The fifth time after hearing that for an answer, Rhiannon demands more.

“You can’t just say that every time! C’mon, tell me something about him. Just something tiny,” she goads, “something you like about him.”

Ianto contemplates this question, all the multitudes of things he likes about Jack. The way he smells, that coat, his smile, his laugh, his hands, the way they can talk without talking, and the way they could also just talk to each other for hours on end. The way he sleeps, and how he mumbles sometimes as he dreams. How he talks low when they’re alone, just for Ianto. The way his hands always reach to cradle Ianto’s face when they kiss before touching elsewhere. How sometimes Jack is so harsh like the sea in a storm and sometimes he’s as gentle as summer waves lapping at the beach.

Ianto blinks away from these thoughts, focusing back in on the moment. /Everything/, he wants to say. Which is completely ridiculous, and terribly cliche, and not even /remotely/ true, considering how many things about Jack piss him off so acutely.

“He’s funny,” he settles on, because Jack is. He’s a people pleaser, a charmer. “You’d like him,” he adds mildly. Because Ianto is sure Jack could get on Rhiannon’s good side without even blinking.

“You should let me meet him, then,” she responds to that, looking a bit too proud of herself for reaching this point.

“Absolutely not,” he denies instantly, frowning at her. She glares in return.

“Why not?”

Ianto flattens his mouth in displeasure, “we’re not really in the ‘meeting-the-family’ stage of the relationship,” he tells her, he does not imagine they’ll ever be. Considering he learned about Jack’s daughter because of a hostage situation and every other family member he has is either dead, 3000 years in the future, or cryogenically frozen after irrationally blaming Jack for everything that happened to him.

“Have you told him you’ve been coming to see me?” she questions. He stares at her for a moment, bewildered about what she thinks she’s going to gain from this.

“Yes,” he answers, still uncomprehending, “why?”

“Well, will he think you’re hiding him away from me?” she asks him boldly.

Ianto can’t help but roll his eyes, “Rhiannon, we’re not like that, I’ve said.”

She huffs a sigh in frustration, “Ianto, you don’t tell me anything about all your alien business or the guy you're dating-- who’s also your boss! And it doesn’t seem like there's much to ask about otherwise! It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall!”

“Brick wall might be a bit reliable,” he snarks, the words are brittle in his mouth.

She deflates, “just tell me something,” she pleaded, “I wanna be a part of your life, I don’t just wanna sit here all day telling you ‘bout how Bridget’s cookies were burnt and how we had to replace the dryer after Mica’s ‘science experiment.’ I want to hear from you too!” She exclaimed.

He softened at the words, not able to help his smile at the mention of Mica’s latest explosion. “You are a part of my life,” he assured her, “and I like hearing about that stuff,” he adds with a lift of his shoulder.

She softens too then, giving him a wry smile, “something small?” she requests.

He thinks this over, then, “we caught an acid spitting alien and it melted through all our cells until we realized we should just freeze it.”

The look on her face is priceless, her mouth dropping open in disbelief before barking out a startled laugh. “how big was it?” she asked, raising her brows.

“Not very,” he said, “but it was a nasty little bugger.”

She looked at him, grinning pleased, “anything else you wanna tell me?”

He thought it over, then sighed heavily, “I’ll ask Jack,” he allowed.

Her brows shot up.

“I’m not promising anything,” he tacked on instantly, “he’s probably going to say no, and when I come back and tell you he said no, you leave it at that, alright?” He told her firmly, voice kept low, though still, Mica was the only one in the room. A strange little fly on the wall who he could never quite sense if she was listening or not.

“Alright, alright, I promise,” she agreed, but still, she looked so happy. It would be worth it, he supposed.

“My sister keeps asking after you,” Ianto mentions off-handedly when they’re working idly, Martha is out of earshot and Gwen and Tosh were off setting up scanners around the area of a predicted rift spike. Jack was leaning against his desk flipping through a stack of files when he glanced up.

“Oh?” he started, brows raised and setting aside the files, easily interested when he was the subject of conversation, “what do you tell her about me?” he questioned, his cheek dimpling as he started to smile, “all good things, I hope.”

“I told her you’re funny,” Ianto said, glancing over at him too, still perched on his desk but looking only at Ianto now.

Jack gives him a haughty look, “so, /that’s/ what I’m known for?” he questions, mock-offended but he still smirks at Ianto while he waits for an answer.

“You could be a stand-up comedian,” he suggests dryly.

“We’d have to be a two person show, you’d be my straight-man,” he says grinning, acknowledging their chemistry.

“I’m afraid I may not fit the bill,” Ianto counters flatly and Jack cackles, pushing off the desk now, to approach him.

“Damn,” he curses mildly once he reaches Ianto, shaking his head in faux-disappointment at their lack of compatibility as a comic duo. “Say anything else about me?” he prompts helpfully as he stands just a little too close to Ianto’s side.

Ianto hesitates, licking his lips, “she asked about meeting you,” he admits.

“Really?” Jack said. Ianto couldn’t quite look at him, so he diverged his eyes to the words on the screen, not reading any of them as he scrolled a little further.

“Yes…” he says slowly, trying to look distracted and not at all like he’s sweating, “she’s very insistent, but I already told her it wasn’t--”

“When?” Jack asks, then.

“-- in the cards, I mean, we…” he froze, turning his head now to gape at Jack, “/what/?” he asked sharply.

“When would she wanna meet me?” Jack asked cooly, raising one eyebrow at Ianto’s current expression. He snapped his jaw shut, still staring at Jack, brows pulled low as he studied his face.

“... You’d meet her?” Ianto asked slowly, still looking him over.

“If you let me,” Jack supplied easily, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Ianto evenly.

He narrowed his eyes at him wondering if somehow this was some strange trick. “You’re /willing/ to meet my sister? As my, um--” He struggled to find the right word.

“Boyfriend?” Jack suggested, teasing sharply.

“I don’t /know/ what to call us,” Ianto countered, staring him down, even as heat rose in his cheeks.

“What do you /want/ us to be called?” Jack challenged him, raising a brow.

‘/Boyfriends/,’ Ianto’s mind instantly supplied but he kept his mouth shut as he watched Jack, trying to puzzle him out.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to meet them…?” he asked him and Jack raised both his eyebrows now.

“Ianto, /you/ were the one who didn’t want me near them and I was respecting that,” Jack pointed out, looking serious now.

“I didn’t--” Ianto started to deny, but then realized Jack was right, for a very long time, Ianto never mentioned a word about them and never wanted anything remotely to do with Torchwood anywhere near the last of his family, /Jack especially/. He pressed his lips together and Jack raised his brows pointedly, mouth pinched.

Ianto glared at him then, “well, what about you?” he asked sharply, “you hate us even being considered a couple and now you’re suddenly fine with meeting my family-- who-- I might remind you, is under that assumption about us. Sorry about that,” Ianto tacks on sarcastically, not intending to sound as bitter about it as he does.

“I never said I hated people thinking we were a couple!” Jack looked taken aback by the assertion.

“Yes you did,” Ianto countered, voice rising, suddenly angry that Jack seemed to think he was the one who was coming out of nowhere with this, “you /told me/ you hated that word!”

“Yes, I /hate/ that /word/,” Jack threw his hands up, experated, “I think it’s stupid and small-minded to refer to a pair of people like they’re one thing! But, Ianto-- by all earth definitions-- /yes/ we do fit under that umbrella. I don’t /care/ if people think of us as a ‘couple!’”

Ianto stared at him, reeling at the confession and trying to ground himself, “what, um, what do /you/ think of us as, then?” he asked cautiously.

Jack stared at him, swallowing, “Partners?” he suggested softly.

“/Partners/?” Ianto repeated in disbelief.

Jack nodded stiffly, squinting at him. “But you don’t seem thrilled with that.”

Ianto was quick to shake his head, “no. Partners, that’s fine, I’m good with partners,” he rushed the words out, not wanting to give Jack time to realize his mistake and take any of this back.

But Jack’s brows creased in concern, “if you have a word you prefer…?” Jack prompted him, raising his eyebrows now in anticipation, surely already knowing what Ianto wanted to say and waiting for him to admit it.

Ianto studied him for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the word /partners/; it was succinct, simple, made sense in so many situations, and didn’t sound quite as silly as ‘boyfriends’. He could easily see why Jack had chosen it, it was the logical option. But there was something too clinical about it for Ianto’s tastes, something that skipped past the way Ianto would wake up too warm with Jack wrapped around him. That term missed out on the simple truths for Ianto, like how he and Jack had an unfinished puzzle sitting on his coffee table, waiting for them in spare moments when they sat down to talk. Or how Jack knew exactly how to fluster Ianto without fail and Ianto could snark back just as easily. Or how these days he knew exactly how to find his way through Jack’s bunker without needing the light and Jack no longer needed to ask where anything was kept in the kitchen of his flat, both of them perfectly familiar with the other’s spaces. It was all the little intimate things they had become that Ianto never ever wanted to skip over, that got brushed past by that word.

“Boyfriend?” Ianto answered hopefully, heart pounding too loudly in his chest.

“Then we’re boyfriends,” Jack agreed, before dropping a hand to Ianto’s shoulder and drawing him into a hug. Ianto returned it, letting out a breath.

“I think we made that harder than it had to be,” Jack sighed next to his ear.

“Just a bit,” Ianto agreed, mouth pressed into his shoulder, still a little shocked it had been just that easy.

Stepping away, Jack was quick to smile at him again, “alright, back to work,” he chided teasingly, wagging a finger at him and turned to stride back towards his office. He paused though as he reached the door.

“And let me know when I’m going to meet Rhiannon, I want to look my best,” Jack told him, grinning widely.

As happy as Ianto was that Jack was so clearly, explicitly, completely unequivocally willing to commit to him, Jack and Rhiannon actually meeting wasn’t a real possibility he’d considered until just now.

“Oh, god,” he murmured in horror, turning away from Jack laughing at him.

Which is how he ended up standing at the door to his sister’s house, with Jack at his side, steeling himself to knock.

“Want me to ring the doorbell?” Jack offered unhelpfully beside him.

“Doesn’t work,” Ianto responded instantly.

“/Soooo/, are we just gonna stare at the door, then? Until it falls off the hinges… or?” Jack whispered, teasing him.

“I’m /going/ to knock,” Ianto told him firmly, before glancing over at Jack. Despite what he’d said about looking his best, he was wearing what he always wore. A blue button-up, slacks and his signature coat. With a black vest added to the ensemble, he /occasionally/ branched out in his fashion choices.

“Be on your best behavior,” Ianto instructed him sternly, catching his eye and Jack just grinned at him.

“Aren’t I always?”

Ianto let out a drawn-out sigh.

“I can go sit in the car if you want,” Jack suggested then, voice wry. “You can just crack the window for me so I won’t die from heatstroke.”

Ianto’s lips twitched at that, “I hate that we have the same sense of humor,” he muttered, smirking.

“Good thing you told her I was so /funny/, then,” Jack responded sarcastically.

Ianto knocked, without further preamble, cutting off any more banter Jack could spout, which was an infinite amount, because he was /Jack/.

A moment later, Rhiannon was opening the door, beaming at them.

“Come in, come in,” she spoke, stepping back and waving both of them inside, Jack smiled back at her charmingly all the while.

The only conditions Ianto had agreed to their meeting was it being between solely Rhiannon, Jack and himself. They could have gone out to meet somewhere, but it had been decided, by Rhiannon, that they would be more comfortable in her house. Ianto suspected she also wanted to give him less room to evade her.

The only time the kids and Johnny were all out of the house was on a weekday, but so long as the rift wasn’t predicted to get out of hand, he and Jack could find free-time on any day of the week, just as well as a weekend. Better even, cause none of the others tended to have plans.

“You /and/ your boss can get off in the middle of the week?” She sounded doubtful.

“This job isn’t exactly nine-to-five,” Ianto responded, “we’ll leave if we get called in.”

“You’d better not get called in,” she warned him and he couldn’t help but snort in response.

Now as he stepped out of the entryway and stared at the completely rearranged living room he couldn’t help but sort of wish Mica were there playing games as always, it was strangely disconcerting with her gone. The couch was pushed forward, bean bag chairs were nowhere in sight, but probably fit to burst from being stuffed in the hallway closet. In front of the couch was the coffee table, which had long since been pushed against the wall after David fell onto it when he and Mica were running through the house and cracked the glass with his head. His head had been fine, thankfully. And at an off angle to the couch was Johnny’s recliner, all situated so they could comfortably look at one another while they talked.

Ianto was starting to regret that he hadn’t just lied, telling Rhiannon instead that Jack said no, but they were here now, no turning back.

“Tea for you?” she asked, lifting the electric kettle and already pouring water for herself and Ianto as she always did, but now there was a third cup to join theirs.

“You got any coffee?” Jack answered and Rhiannon looked up at him in surprise when he spoke. The accent, Ianto realized, must have caught her off guard.

“Sorry, no,” she smiled apologetically with a shake of her head, recovering well enough.

“Tea’s good then,” Jack agreed with an ever-pleasant smile.

“Ianto didn’t mention you were American?” she said curiously, staring at Jack while Ianto reached for all of their teacups to move them to the coffee table.

“I’m sure there’s plenty Ianto didn’t mention about me,” Jack replied easily, “he’s quiet, this one.”

Rhiannon laughed, and Ianto was sure to give Jack a withering look as soon as he caught his eye, which was received with a demure smile.

She ushered them to the couch then and settled into the recliner herself, squishing into the worn cushions. Jack looked perfectly at ease next to him while Ianto was stiff as a board. It was sort of funny, considering he wasn’t the one in an unfamiliar house meeting his partner’s family for the first time.

“Captain Jack Harkness,” he introduced himself, and shook her hand before taking his seat, “pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Davies.”

She stared at him for a moment with eyes pulled wide, grinning wildly. “Oh please, call me, Rhiannon,” she corrected him.

“Call me Jack,” he said, grinning in kind.

“So, tell me about yourself, then,” Rhiannon invited him, smiling winningly.

“Well, I think Ianto’s mentioned that we work together,” Jack began.

“Said you’re his boss,” Rhiannon agreed, “how much older are you, exactly?” She wondered, eyes narrowing sharply.

Jack didn’t look at all perturbed by the question, just opened his mouth to answer, but Ianto spoke first, “he’s in his thirties,” he supplied.

“Thirty-six,” Jack agreed, not missing a beat. Ten-year age difference, it was accurate /physically/, at least.

“How’d you two come about then, after working together?”

Jack glanced at him, smiling easily. He was letting Ianto take the lead here, he realized, and he would follow up to however much or little Ianto wanted to tell her.

“It was…” Ianto started to speak, “I came back to Cardiff for work, when I met Jack,” he said carefully.

“Transferred facilities and came to work under me instead,” Jack looked at him again, smiling affectionately, “and I’m grateful he did.” Ianto really was losing track of exactly how much of this was a show Jack was putting on for her, but he’d still managed to slip a double entendre in there.

“Was it hard?” she asked curiously, “being the first man Ianto was with?” It was a bold question, a bit tactless, but Jack wasn’t one to shy away from these topics, and neither was Rhiannon, clearly.

Jack glanced at him. He knew it was a blatant lie on Ianto’s part, that Jack was the only man he’d been with, but Ianto knew he wouldn’t say anything. It was just easier, telling Rhiannon the things she would prefer to hear than actually trying to explain himself to her.

“Not at all,” Jack answered, looking at his sister again, smiling warmly, “I know how to take things slow.”

Ianto rolled his eyes /hard/ at that. Completely ridiculous.

“Ianto, ‘ave you got something to add?” Rhiannon wondered sharply, and of course, then of all moments she had to be watching him.

He gave her a sardonic smile, “nothing at all, Rhi. It’s just funny! Why Jack just might just be the most /polite/ man you’ll ever meet,” he said, his sarcasm was impossible to miss.

“You told me /‘best behavior,’/” Jack hissed at him.

“Well, you sound completely ridiculous,” he pointed out in return.

“I’m just going off what /you/ said! What /exactly/ would you like me to tell her, Ianto?” He invited him sharply.

He frowned, glancing from Jack staring at him intently to Rhiannon watching them with a confused smile pulling at her mouth. At least she didn’t seem as mortified as Ianto was feeling right at this moment.

He crossed his arms and faced his sister, looking her dead in the eye.

“Jack is the strangest man I’ve ever met, and he’s not polite at all, he makes lewd jokes and chews with his mouth open. If you’re going to meet him, I at least want you to /actually/ meet him,” he says, sighing with finality and knowing his face has gone completely red.

“Well, there you go,” Jack agrees with a sweeping gesture, an amused smile playing on his lips.

Ianto has realized as comfortable as it is to lie to her about this, he wants her approval, and that really means nothing if he’s not at least a little bit honest. He’s been trying to be that with Rhiannon for a while now, but he didn’t know how to explain that to Jack.

But Rhiannon was laughing then, giggling, really. “Well, the only other things you told me ‘bout him were that he’s handsome and funny, so I think maybe I’m starting to get something outta you, for once,” she looks happy now smiling at Ianto and he tries to smile back.

“So, I’m /also/ known for being handsome, then?” Jack intercuts, his voice turning sly.

Ianto turns a flat look on him, resolutely ignoring the way his face is still flushed, “I was only confirming the rumors.”

“And who exactly was starting rumors about how handsome I am?”

“/Her/ nosey friends who don’t know how to mind their own business,” Ianto shot back.

“Oi!” Rhiannon objected. Ianto turned his deadpan stare on her instead now, inviting her to argue with his statement. They both knew he was right.

“Not like I ever would have heard about this from you,” she argued back, gesturing towards him.

Ianto scowled at her, before scrubbing a hand down his face, “I don’t know, Rhi, maybe, maybe if you’d given me time I could’ve explained it better,” he said, giving her a pained look now.

“Well, how would you explain it now, if you told me?” she asked insistently.

He froze up at that, his eyes strayed to Jack then, who was simply watching him calmly, a solid presence by his side. He looked back towards her then, swallowing thickly.

“I... fell in love with a man, Rhi,” he admitted slowly, and it wasn’t something he hadn’t said to Jack already, but telling her so plainly should be completely unimaginable, yet here he was, doing just that. “As much as you might doubt it, I do /actually/ care how you think of me.”

Her brows drew up in concern, “that would never change how I think of you,” she said, and she sounded so earnest.

“Rhiannon,” he sighed, smiling sadly now, “it /always/ changes how people think of you.”

She stared at him for a long moment, looking like she couldn’t comprehend what he was telling her. “You’re my /brother/ Ianto, nothing will change that.”

“What about Johnny?” he countered sharply, “do talk about me with him? What does he say, I wonder?”

She glared at him furiously at those words, “Johnny doesn’t hate you, Ianto! He likes you just as well as he always has,” she objected.

“It’s not just about /hating/ people, Rhiannon. It’s about all those little things. About how /strange/ it is, and how you’re just now thinking I’ve always been a little too over-emotional, that I cried just too much, or that I was always too /weak/,” he bit out the word. “I can’t /stand/ it. If you just hated me Rhiannon, it’d be easier,” he said, the truths just pouring out of him now as he stared her down, “Then I wouldn’t have to be here right now.”

Her face had gone slack with surprise and Jack wasn’t watching him anymore, only staring cooly out into the room, looking completely unfazed.

Ianto’s heart was racing like he’d just run a marathon and he waited. Waited for her to say something.

“If you don’t want to come ‘round, Ianto, all you had to do was say,” she spoke finally, her voice was soft and filled with solemn resolve. He wanted to tear his hair out in frustration.

“I /do/ want to be around you, Rhiannon,” he rushed to correct her, “but I’m just,” he floundered for the words looking for the right thing to say.

He took a shaky breath and when he glanced at Jack, this time the man was looking at him with that steady gaze, expectant.

“I’m just /scared/,” he admitted finally and the corners of Jack’s lips lifted ever so slightly for him, a small comfort just for Ianto to see. He looked back at Rhiannon, meeting her gaze.

“Well, you don’t have to be,” She suggested quietly.

He let out a breath, lowering his eyes again. In a way, she was right, but she still didn’t understand. She never would, not really.

“Well,” Jack broke the moment suddenly, “I’m just glad I was here to serve as a catalyst for this heartwarming breakthrough between brother and sister,” he spoke, smirking between them. Though Ianto got the sense Jack knew he was saving Ianto from having to come up with another answer to Rhiannon’s assurances.

Rhiannon gave the man a wide-eyed look, a confused grin pulling at her lips now, she shot Ianto a questioning look.

“Yes,” he answered, being sure to sound spectacularly put-upon as he said it, though in truth he just felt ridiculously fond, “he’s always like this.”

“And he /loves/ me for it, you heard the man,” Jack teased.

Rhiannon laughed and Ianto let himself relax, just for a moment.

#yeah ok im like so invested in messy family relationships and relationships that are hard and have bad communication but theyre still so...#aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah just i care them so have a wip #wip #im literallt not going to format this tho so just know stuff in between slashes /like this/ is italicized #sorry hollow bestie for reminding u of this sdkfhkajdhsfkjhsdf

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theroseandcrown · 4 years

Text

The Rose & Crown: Chapter Fourteen (Part Two)

Rating: M Chapters: 14/24

Summary: The TARDIS arrives on a familiar planet and the Doctor’s memory is put to the test. History is being rewritten and now it is up to him to figure out how and why.

Read this story on another platform: Archive of Our Own Fan Fiction WattPad

Messaline, 6012

The TARDIS landed abruptly at its psychically charted destination despite the Doctor’s distracted thoughts having led the way. He found himself slightly amazed that the ship had been able to locate the new point of interest, yet was intrigued by the endless possibilities awaiting him outside the safety of his blue box. Having disabled most of the safety control systems, he felt as if he had wandered blindly into a dark and dangerous jungle armed only with his bare hands. Checking the view-screen, he raised a curious brow as the surrounding elements on the outside appeared to be somewhat familiar to him, though he could not determine where or when he had seen them before. A series of underground tunnels had encased them inside of its jagged stone walls. With the safeguards and nav-com turned off, it was impossible to determine what potential lifeforms could be lingering outside. Had it not been for his undying thirst for discovery and ever-increasing eagerness to explore their new surroundings, he would have forced himself to revise his previous coordinates without the unpredictability of his wandering mind. However, distractions aside, the TARDIS must have had some reason for bringing them there while his consciousness was interlinked within her interface.

“This is it, yeah?” Clara glanced over his shoulder towards the view-screen.

“Only one way to know for certain.” He tried his very best to sound as confident as possible as he placed the small audio device into his ear.

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to talk you out of this, is there?” She remained hopeful he’d change his mind as she plugged the second device into her ear.

“You’ll be able to see everything I see from right here.” He ignored her predictably disquieted glance as he pointed to the screen in front of them. “With the nav-com offline, we won’t be alerted to the presence of other lifeforms. So, I’ll need you to monitor the TARDIS surveillance system and keep an eye out for any potential threats.”

“Sounds easy enough. So I’m basically your spy.”

“Aren’t you the lucky one?” he teased. “Now remember, if something were to happen and I don’t make it back, you must use the telepathic interface to fly the TARDIS back home. Don’t hesitate, just go.”

“You want me to just abandon you here?”

“If it comes to that, yes.”

“Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that then.”

“And whatever you do, stay here.” He pointed a stern finger towards the floor. “No matter what happens out there, you must not leave the TARDIS. This is the safest place for you to be. Best to keep you out of trouble this time around.”

Clara found herself frowning at his words. Had it not been for his refusal to heed her warning of potential danger, they wouldn’t even be in this mess to begin with. However, she knew there would be plenty of time to remind him of how awfully infuriating he was once all of this was finally over. He headed for the door and cautiously pulled it open. “Doctor,” she called to him. His eyes turned to meet hers. “Be careful, okay? Don’t do anything stupid, like get yourself killed.” She tried to force a small smile of confidence on her face to mask the worry embedded throughout her emotions. Her currently over-sized matronly ensemble was the only thing sheltering her trembling body from his furrowed eyes. It took all of her energy to calm her nerves so as not to reveal how truly frightened she was at the thought of him never returning to her again.

“When have you ever known me to do anything stupid?”

“Seriously? Have you met you?” she quipped.

He responded to her humour with a rigorous brow. “Right. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.” He exited the ship and closed the door securely behind him.

The subterranean cavern surrounding him was as familiar as taking a stroll inside one of his memories, one that hadn’t been visited in such a long time. A memory so unused it had nearly been forgotten. And yet, at the same time, he experienced an overwhelming sense of uneasiness as if something in the back of his mind was telling him he had been there before. He was left with the unfaltering sensation of déjà vu taunting him with fragmented visions derived from his scattered recollection of this planet they found themselves on. As he surveyed the dark space around him, he found himself relying almost solely on his extraordinary senses to take in all the extra details he might have been missing.

The aroma in the air was palpable and stale, a rich fragrance of minerals distributed from the ground underneath his feet. Even more noticeable was the soil itself. The path in front of him had become a tramping ground forged by several unmistakable sets of footprints marking the way out. A series of electrical wires ran like untamed vines branching out to bring life to the lights lining the bottom of the cavern walls. The only source of illumination throughout the darkness engulfing him. Lifting his sonic-screwdriver, he activated its torch setting allowing him to better observe the area around him. “Well, that’s interesting,” he spoke aloud.

“What is it? What have you found?” he heard her reply into his ear.

“These cables, their construction is fairly new. Which leads me to believe someone has been here very recently.” He carefully stepped over each wire and slowly headed deeper into the cave. “I’m going to attempt to locate their source. Whatever is powering these lights must not be far from here.”

“Just be careful, Doctor. Knowing our luck, this is probably a trap.”

The Doctor pushed forward. His memories began to awaken to the scene around him. Just ahead, he encountered a flickering light as if whatever it was attached to had been badly damaged. In the darkness, he could make out a sort of sealed glass structure, a chamber perhaps, embedded into the wall of the cave. The lights inside of it continued to flicker. Finally reaching the chamber, he raised his torch to better observe the malfunctioning electronics lining its exterior hatch. His consciousness suddenly accelerated to full throttle. The forgotten memories stored within him began to flood his thoughts. A wave of suppressed emotions hit him unexpectedly as he finally realized exactly where he was. He cautiously raised his hand to place it upon the surface of the glass. He closed his eyes and allowed the memories of this forgotten place to run its course through his mind. The voices of his past could be heard so clearly in his head it was as if they never left.

“Where did she come from?” Martha asked, still confused by the assault on her friend.

“From me,” he answered, still in shock by the young woman standing before him.

“From you? How? Who is she?” Donna interrupted, more confused than the others.

“Well, she’s... well, she’s my daughter.” His emotions teetered between denial and acceptance.

The young blonde woman stepped forward from inside the chamber and smiled towards the lengthy man in the strange brown jacket. “Hello, Dad.”

“Jenny,” he whispered. The pain of losing his loom-born daughter returned to him as if all memory of her had been stolen from his mind.

“Doctor?” he heard Clara respond. “Are you alright? Is someone there with you?”

Why did you bring me here, he asked himself of the ship’s decision to send them to this chosen location. Must I suffer these memories as well? Is it not enough that I’m doing everything in my power to save my remaining child’s life? He felt anger rising inside of him at the ship’s cruelness to send him there. Why this place? Why here, why now? What am I missing? He continued to ask as he attempted to find a reason behind this unwarranted detour. He combed through the events leading up to their departure and retraced his thoughts to before the TARDIS had dematerialized. Then it suddenly became so very clear. The final thing that entered his mind before their destination was received by the interface was the thought of holding his daughter in his arms. The TARDIS must have connected that emotion to the very last thing he experienced during his first visit to this place. The act of cradling his dying daughter and the memory of watching the vibrancy of her short-lived life fading from her body.

Upon opening his eyes, he began to take in all the details of the chamber’s construction as if trying to remember exactly how it felt to have stood in front of it two faces ago. Yet something strange caught his attention. The mechanism designed to pull DNA from a singular host had been altered. The chamber had also been upgraded with more advanced technology than it had been fitted with before. The Doctor felt the frown on his face deepen, realizing whoever was responsible for altering it had found a way to manipulate the chamber’s primary functions to successfully produce identical copies without needing the DNA of an original host.

“Doctor? Can you still hear me? Is everything alright?” Clara continued to call to him.

Something is wrong. This technology shouldn’t even exist yet. So why is it here? Beside the chamber, he could make out what appeared to be a small console station fitted with a narrow slot intended for a type of holographic disk. Approaching it, he scanned the console and activated its power setting. Its interface struggled to power up before displaying the uploaded contents of the disk in the form of a view-screen. The flickering image produced a detailed map of the cave and surrounding infrastructures. He had seen this map before. Though the technology had been upgraded, the layout of the building remained for the most part unchanged. That’s strange, he thought as he attempted to expand the map to a view of the planet. The image fluttered as its energy source began to drain more rapidly. Aiming his screwdriver towards the interface, he redirected as much power as he could from the surrounding area directly to the console. The view-screen quickly came alive with vibrancy. The detailed rendering of the degraded planet’s current condition filled every edge of the frame. Messaline, his suspicions now confirmed, but it can’t be!

Next to him, the lights continued to flicker inside the glass chamber. He could hear the small panel adjacent to the sealed door fluctuating as it attempted to draw more power to itself. The display and keypad were barely functioning as it faded in and out of life. He directed his attention towards the malfunctioning panel and scanned its hardware for a possible answer to who might have installed the upgraded systems. Suddenly, the panel started to spark as the electronics inside of it surged from extensive corrosion. “No, no, no!” he screamed at the panel. “Come on, don’t do this to me! I need to know!”

“Doctor? Tell me what’s going on. You’re starting to scare me.”

“I’m coming back to the TARDIS. We need to leave this planet immediately.”

“What? Why? Doctor, what is it? What did you see?”

“Something I shouldn’t have,” he answered, looking upon his reflection through the glass. “Clara, I-” he began to say before being interrupted by a loud bang as the panel suffered a complete system failure and exploded. It was as if it had been rigged to go off in the event any tampering had been detected. The small blast sent out a shock-wave which shattered the glass door of the chamber and nearly sent him flying to the other side of the cave. He managed to quickly raise his arm in time to protect his face from potential shrapnel before being thrown to the ground.

“Doctor?! Doctor, can you hear me?!” She called into her earpiece as the vibrations from the blast were felt from inside the ship. “Doctor! Are you there?! Answer me!” She pulled the view-screen towards her. The once clear image of the cave was now clouded by a thick layer of smoke and dust making it impossible to receive a clear visual. She had been blinded and completely cut off from the outside world. Whatever had happened, only one thing was certain. He was truly on his own now. “What’s happening out there?!” she yelled towards the silent Gallifreyan rings holding the time rotor together. “Don’t you dare go quiet on me! You are every bit as much to blame for us being here! He could be in danger right now, or worse!” The ship continued to play the silent game as Clara paced back and forth, unable to resist the horrid thoughts entering her mind of what may have happened to her best friend.

“Something’s wrong. He should have been back by now. He would have responded,” she spoke to the ship as if hoping for some kind of validation to her concerns over his well-being. When there wasn’t any, she found herself very afraid of how alone she felt at that moment. She continued to pace, nervously biting her thumb as she tried to come to terms with what he told her to do in case he didn’t come back to her. She shook the thought from her mind as a burst of confidence forced her to take drastic action. “That’s it. If you’re not going to help me, I’ll do it myself,” she asserted towards the interface. She headed to the travel bag and rummaged around for her jacket. Finding it, she quickly placed it on and started for the door when the TARDIS finally responded with a series of unfavourable noises.

“Yes, I know what he said and I don’t care!” she yelled back as she grabbed the handle and pulled, only to find it wouldn’t budge. She angrily spun around to face the console. “Open the door,” she demanded. The ship clattered with refusal. “Listen to me, you blue bucket of bolts and fancy whistles. I realize we haven’t always gotten on. You’ve hidden my bedroom. You’ve even put a leopard in my bathroom. But this, this isn’t about me. This is about the man we both love. And right now, he’s out there all alone and he needs our help. If he dies out there, it’s on you. I swear with every part of my being that if something happens to him, you will never be rid of me. I will never leave this ship even if it means I’ll die in here. You will spend the rest of your lonely existence without your Time Lord, carting around a bloody pile of bones while I haunt the inside of these walls for eternity. Just you and me, forever.” Her eyes were fierce, her voice threatening and angry. “So, what’s it gonna be?” The two of them were drowning in silence for a few moments as they squared off against each other for control over the situation. Suddenly, the door to the outside opened allowing the cool air from their surroundings to enter and pass through them. A small smile formed on the young woman’s face as she peered gratefully towards the living machine. “Thank you.” She then turned and exited through the threshold on a mission to find her friend.

Outside the ship, the Doctor coughed and fanned the smoke from his face as he approached the decimated panel to better assess the damage. Placing his hand to his ear, he called to his companion. “Clara? Are you alright?” The silence from the earpiece was concerning. “Clara, can you hear me? Clara!” he called again before realizing that their communication had been severed. He concluded the blast from the panel must have destroyed the circuits inside the earpiece and temporarily stranded them from each other.

“Doctor?” a voice echoed in the distance.

He was almost certain he imagined it as he peered through the fine airborne sediment towards the sound of the voice. He tapped his earpiece and called for his companion once more. “Clara, is that you?” he asked, hoping the audio device had somehow come back online. Through the thickened haze, a shadow quickly approached him. A spout of adrenaline arose from within him as he prepared to engage in possible combat with the unknown being.

“Doctor?” a feminine voice he recognized called out. “Doctor, are you alright? Where are you?!” She coughed and batted her way through to him.

He gave a sigh of relief followed by frustrated anger as he realized who the voice belonged to. “Clara! What are you doing out here?! I told you to stay on the TARDIS!” He headed to her and took hold of her arms as if trying to determine if she was indeed real and therefore stupid enough to be standing in front of him.

“What, and let you have all the fun?” she replied mid-breath.

“Ah, yes. You’ve finally discovered the truth. We’ve really come all this way because I’ve secretly been planning a much needed fun-filled weekend holiday for two. Surprise! I hope you like the view, very authentic. I give it at least three stars.” His furious temper and sarcasm had finally reached maximum capacity. “Now, will you please go back to the TARDIS!”

“I’m not going back there without you. I won’t let you do this alone,” she insisted, pulling herself from his grasp.

“Clara, as much as I appreciate your concern, I don’t think you quite understand the severity of the situation. This entire planet is a war zone and we are currently standing right in the middle of it! I will not allow you to put yourself and our child in danger so you can quench your thirst for adventure!”

“You said we needed to leave this planet. So you’re either coming back with me or taking me with you. Your choice,” she argued.

“I can’t leave, not yet. Something is terribly wrong here, some crucial point that I’m missing. I cannot in good conscious leave here until I discover exactly what that is. Somehow history is being changed. This entire planet should have been terraformed by now. Before I left here, there was peace between the species. This whole planet’s ecosystem had been completely transformed from a radioactive wasteland to an Earth-like paradise. According to the readings I obtained from their computer, it’s as if none of that ever happened. Which either means the war never ended and we are standing on an active battleground, or someone won.” He moved away from her and stepped towards the shattered chamber, sighing with frustration. “If my fears are correct, I believe a third party has played a hand at providing one side with an advantage over the other. The upgraded technology in this room alone proves it was not crafted by mankind nor is it of indigenous design. If someone has altered the course of events here, there’s no way to know for sure how many other things may have changed.” He pressed his hands on either side of the chamber’s frame and hung his head, submerging himself inside of his thoughts as if he were drowning in the fear rising within. He felt the comforting presence of his companion as she came up beside him. He didn’t need to read her expression to know she was growing more concerned by his words. He could sense the worry inside of her from an entire galaxy away. Yet, the real truth he now faced was just how foolish he felt to have believed this mission they were on would have ensured no resistance. “I need to follow this to the end, Clara. For all I know, it may already be too late. But I have to try. If Quynn is behind this, then there’s no telling what damage she has already caused to the fabrics of time. She must be stopped.”

Clara placed her hand on his shoulder and gently turned him around to face her. “Then we’ll do it together. Just like old times.” She leaned her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around his thin frame.

The Time Lord embraced her caring gesture and held her close to him. He gently ran his fingers through her brown hair and rested his cheek upon her head. “You and your infuriating stubbornness are going to be the death of me, I just know it.”

She laughed and held him tight. “By the way, what happened in here?” She took notice of the damaged equipment lying in pieces throughout the area. “Were you trying to blow yourself up again?”

“Very funny. Although I did discover that one should always ask for consent before probing around inside a computer’s secured interface. A lesson well learned.”

“Sound advice,” she teased, immersing herself in his warmth. “So,” she started, her eyes meeting his with a curious brow. “Who’s Jenny?”

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by a threatening voice from somewhere nearby which took them by surprise. “There they are! Open fire!” the voice commanded. Several armed men quickly stormed through the cloud of dust and smoke towards their location, completely blocking their access to the ship as they took aim. A chain of weapons fire commenced. Their ammunition tore blindly through the fog missing the Doctor and Clara by inches as the bullets ricocheted off the stone walls.

“Run, Clara!” the Doctor screamed, grabbing her hand and bolting deeper into the caverns. The soldiers’ footsteps could be heard closing in from behind.

“I’m starting to think this may have been a mistake!” she admitted, trying to keep up with the pace he set for them in her weakened state.

“‘Just like old times’, eh?” He was partially excited yet terrified all at the same time. “I hate soldiers. Don’t you hate soldiers?” he smiled, trying to make the best of their current situation.

“Yeah,” she agreed, becoming more breathless the farther they ran.

“Just keep running!” he urged. His hand tightened around hers, fearing one false move could mean the end of them at any moment. Rounding a corner, they noticed the soil beneath their feet had been reinforced with metal flooring. Their footsteps clanked loudly across its surface as they headed towards the next area. The jagged stone walls that once made up the cave had been reconstructed and moulded into a narrow corridor that emptied into a large abandoned theatre fitted with a domed ceiling. As the pair of them made their way to the centre of the room, they stopped and peered around for a suitable place to hide. “Over here!” he whispered, pulling her towards a stack of crates near an exit point and ducked behind them.

Clara took the opportunity of temporary rest to catch her breath. “What was that machine back there? Obviously something important to need this much protection.”

“A type of loom, very similar to the technology we used on Gallifrey to produce our offspring. I have a feeling someone has modified it, possibly to create an army of identical soldiers to win this war between the two species occupying this planet.”

“Are you sure? It looked a little small to fit a whole army in there.”

“Of course I’m sure! It’s the same machine that was used on myself to create my daughter Jenny the last time I was here.”

“Jenny? She’s the non-Gallifreyan child you told me about?”

“Yes, born by genetic transfer but still of my own flesh and blood.”

“Hang on, something doesn’t make sense. If you’re right about Quynn changing the course of history on this planet, if the war never ended, wouldn’t that mean you were never here? And if you were never here, then wouldn’t that mean Jenny never existed? So why can you still remember her?”

“For the same reason your memories began to resurface on Trenzalore when they shouldn’t have. Because nothing is ever really forgotten as long as you can still remember it.”

She opened her mouth to respond but was met with the warm touch of his hand as he covered her mouth to shush her. They watched and waited quietly as the soldiers who had been following them made their way into the room and began to search the area. The troop leader signalled for his men to separate into adjacent paths. The Time Lord and his companion found themselves alone in the room once more, not yet willing to move from the safety of the crates they hid behind. When all was quiet and clear, she pulled his hand from her face and finally spoke.

“So what now? Can we get back to the TARDIS from here?” she whispered.

“Well, we certainly can’t go back the way we came, but yes. There is another tunnel that will lead us there. Although, they’re sure to be guarding it in case we try to leave. I don’t know about you, but I’m really not in the mood to get shot today.”

“You said you’ve been here before. They must have some kind of weapons room or something.”

“That’s your plan?! You want to charge through them, guns blazing?”

“Do they have one or not, Doctor?” she asked again, becoming more agitated.

“Of course they do, it’s a war zone! But there’s no way of knowing if it’s in the same place. For all I know, it could be a broom cupboard now!”

“Which way?” She peered around the crates to locate the surrounding exits.

“Through there,” he pointed towards a corridor near them. “But we’ll never make it without being seen. It could be heavily guarded.”

She waited until the footsteps of the soldiers had become silent then removed herself from behind the crate. “Right then, let’s go,” she instructed, heading towards the next corridor.

“Clara! What are you doing?!” he called, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. His eyes were wide with fear. “Come back here immediately!”

“I’m getting us out of here. Are you coming or not?” She waited only a moment for him before proceeding towards the undiscovered hallway.

“Clara!” he called again. Realizing she wasn’t planning on coming back, he quickly left the safety of the crates to follow after her. Her quickened pace made it difficult to keep up which prevented him from preparing for any possible dangers ahead. The next corridor proved much longer than he remembered. As they rounded the corner, they were met by half a dozen armed soldiers stationed at the far end of the path. Their weapons were armed and ready to receive them. The events that followed happened so fast he hardly had time to react. His first instinct was to retreat the way they came. Yet Clara confidentially strode forward as they began to open fire on them. Raising his arms to protect his head from the slew of bullets flying around, he continued to scream her name in the hope she would come back to him. Despite the urgency in his voice, his companion maintained her current course towards their enemies as if she had become possessed - somehow unafraid of the severe possibility of being shot. His hearts and mind raced while she proceeded towards the gunfire as if she were purposely trying to get herself killed. The next door he came by he recognized immediately. Thinking quickly, he used his screwdriver on the handle. The door unlatched and flew open allowing him access inside. Before she could proceed any farther into certain death, he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the newly opened room. “Not that way! In here!” he insisted, flinging her inside like a rag doll. Looking towards the soldiers, he aimed his screwdriver above their heads and activated it. The piping above them burst open and exploded as the gases mixed with the electrical pulse being sent out. The last thing he witnessed before closing the door behind him was the image of screaming bodies flying in all directions as their lives were extinguished in flames.

He entered the room and glared in disbelief at the woman standing before him. Her eyes refused to meet his. Instead, she focused her attention on the room around them. Her distracted gaze made it clear that she had no recollection of how she got there. Whatever the reason for her lack of concern over her well-being, the fact that she had so determinedly put all three of them in danger enraged him. “Have you gone completely insane, or has pregnancy really made you this recklessly stupid? You could have been killed!”

“What makes you so sure they were aiming for me?” Her eyes maintained themselves away from his rage-filled expression.

He watched concernedly as she appeared to ignore his displeasure, becoming more disconnected from him every moment that passed. Every part of his being wanted to scream and lash out at her outrageous behaviour having led them to their current situation. His temper was unravelling. His hands shook from the adrenaline coursing through his system after having just murdered several people. He quickly hid his hands in his pockets and tried to calm his mind. He looked around the room to distract himself from how irate he felt towards her at that moment. They had indeed found the small armoury as she intended. The walls were thick and barren of any possible way out other than the way they had come. Multiple well-armoured crates had been sorted and stacked in rows along the floor creating a labyrinth of weaponry.

“So, here we are,” he announced, facetiously seething in sarcasm. “I can’t wait to see what else you have in store for us. Though it could be worse. We could be trapped in a small room with only one door while an army of soldiers gathers reinforcements with the intent to kill us.” She remained silent, hugging herself with crossed arms as fresh tears began to build in her eyes. As much as he wanted to comfort her, he was far too angry to allow her emotions to tamper with the thought of what she had done. This time she had gone too far. “Why couldn’t you have just stayed on the TARDIS? I told you not to leave. I had everything handled without you putting yourself directly in danger. Your job was to monitor the situation from inside and if necessary, take her far away from here. What were you even thinking?! Do you have any idea how furious I am with you?!”

“Are you sure it’s me you’re angry with?” She glanced his way, her eyes connecting to his with fierce intention. “You and I both know those soldiers bore Quynn’s insignia, which means her reach spans farther than we ever realized. She isn’t just building up her armies, she’s changing the course of history as you and I know it. What if she reaches Earth? What if she enslaves the entire human race? What if there is no stopping her?”

“Do you honestly believe I haven’t thought of that? That I haven’t been doing everything in my power to prevent her from becoming even stronger?” His anger grew rapidly as he spoke. The more he tried to control it, the harder it was to keep contained. She was testing his patience in more ways than one.

“What if it isn’t enough? What if she can’t be beaten? What if we’re already too late?”

“Forgive me. I must have forgotten how many wars you’ve fought in, how many armies you’ve commanded, how many innocent lives you’ve witnessed perish at the hands of an enemy much stronger than yourself yet somehow still prevailed. You wouldn’t know real sacrifice if it slapped you in the face! You cannot imagine what it’s like to have lost everything, to have done everything you could to save the lives of those who count on you most.”

“Not everything,” she noted, running her fingers along the surface of the crate in front of her. With the other hand, she undid the latch holding the crate closed and lifted the lid. Inside were a series of enhanced pistols, the clips loaded and ready for combat. She carefully lifted one from its holster and examined its intricate design in front of her.

“Clara, what are you doing?” he asked as a strange feeling of nervousness crept up from within him.

Her eyes met his again. Though her expression seemed almost apologetic in nature, there was also a sense of confidence and serenity he had never seen before. “What I have to do.” She instinctively released the safety from the weapon, its capabilities now fully armed and ready to fire. “All this time the answer has been staring us right in the face, yet you’ve refused to admit it. You’ve been so blinded by trying to save us that you couldn’t see the solution right in front of you.”

“Clara, whatever you think you’re doing-”

“I know exactly what I’m doing, Doctor,” she interrupted. Her calm demeanour did little to cease the rising distress growing inside of him. “I’m making the choice that you could not. I’m saving us.” She slowly brought the gun to her head and placed the barrel next to her temple.

His emotions fluctuated between sheer panic and shock at the sight of her actions. “Stop this at once! Have you gone mad?! What has gotten into you-?” he stopped himself, suddenly recalling his unborn child’s warning of his companion’s terribly dark secrets as they flashed into his mind. He had seen the pain thriving inside of her, yet had not known the depths of how far she would be willing to go. The guilt of not being able to cure her overwhelmed him. He could feel his time was running out. If he could not find a way to bring her back to him, he may lose her forever. “Ah, I understand now. So this was all part of your plan, was it? To fool me into bringing you here? This was never about wanting to help me defeat Quynn. You needed me to present the opportunity for you because you couldn’t do it alone. How long have you been planning this?”

“Since eighteen sixty-five. Since the moment you discovered Quynn was our daughter. The more I realized how powerful she was becoming the more I knew there was only one way to stop her before more people fell victim to her wrath. After Danny died, that feeling became even stronger. The darkness inside of me has only been growing, it’s only a matter of time before it takes over completely. I knew you would never allow any harm to come to me or the baby even if the entire universe was burning all around us. Can’t you see? Missy has finally succeeded in finding your weakness and using it against you. The only way to stop them both is to beat them at their own game.” Her hand began to tremble as her finger secured itself upon the trigger.

“Clara, please. Don’t do this.”

“You said so yourself. We could be trapped in this cyclical hell forever. How many times do you think we’ve been through this? How many times have we tried to stop her and failed? You can feel it, can’t you? I didn’t understand what it was before, but now I know. That feeling growing in the back of your mind telling you that you’ve done this all before, but you just can’t explain it. That’s how I feel all the time. It’s the feeling of living inside of a never-ending nightmare.” Her tears streamed down her face as the memory of her vivid dreams began to surface from their secured place in her mind. “If our daughter’s only reason for existing is to bring us together to conceive her so she can reign terror upon the universe for all of eternity, then this is the only way I see out of it.”

“There’s no guarantee this will even work, no way to know how far back the timeline may reset. It could cause time to completely collapse on itself, or nothing could happen and you’d just be dead. Are you willing to take that risk?”

“Yes,” she admitted with such confidence that it terrified him to his core. “I’d be willing to do whatever it takes to stop her, even if it means I’ll die. What’s one life worth compared to the billions I could be saving?”

“More than I am willing to give up.” He risked taking a step towards her. In her startled reaction to his movement, she stepped back from him as a look of warning flashed upon her face. His hearts beat faster than they ever had before. He’d rather be standing in front of an army of Cybermen or surrounded by Daleks than face the stand-off he was in between himself and his friend. “I’m begging you, don’t do this. We’ll find another way. We’ve come so far already.” He held out his shaking hands as a peaceful gesture and took another step towards her as his world began to crash down all around him. He was so scared of what she was about to do, he found it difficult to breathe. He could barely hear anything over the sound of his hearts pounding in his chest. He tried to remain calm, yet his entire body trembled as he drew closer to her. “How can you possibly ask this of me, to just stand here and allow you to murder yourself and our child right in front of me?” He could no longer control the tears forcing their way out over the thought of them dying by her hands. He was being torn apart. All the bravery and courage he held inside of him for so long had vanished leaving him alone with the frightened child-like innocence that remained. “I’ve already lost more than I can even bear. Please, don’t leave me here all alone,” he begged with every last ounce of his being as he dropped to his knees and buried his sobbing face in his hands.

The sight of her best friend’s crumpled form before her was unbearable. Her tears continued to fall as she contemplated everything she was doing. She had never been more scared than she was right at that moment. Yet, deep down, she knew she couldn’t allow him to cause her to doubt what she felt was their only option left. If there was any hope of releasing herself from her fate, she would have to be the stronger one. “You take more risks than anyone I’ve ever known. Tell me why I can’t be like you? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t do this. If there’s even a chance we could escape this, why shouldn’t I take it?” she asked, gripping the pistol even tighter.

The Doctor lifted his head from his hands and allowed his tears to fall openly, finally exposing all of his weaknesses in front of her. He had come to terms with the thought that if this was truly what she wanted to do, if this was the last time he’d ever see her again, then there was no reason he could think of to continue to keep his feelings a secret any longer. He never would be able to live with himself if he allowed her to die without ever knowing how he felt about her. If their friendship must end, then it would be on his terms. There was only one thing left to do. One remaining ace up his sleeve he had been saving for the right moment. And there was no greater time than right now. “Because... I’m in love with you, Clara.”

She felt almost light-headed as if she had been holding her breath. His confession both startled and surprised her. Unsure if she simply imagined his words due to the emotional state she put herself through or if he genuinely declared what she thought he had, she finally spoke. “What did you say?” she asked, almost frightened of the answer.

“I said, I’m in love with you,” he confirmed. “I always have been. My face may have changed but how I feel about you has never faltered. From the very first moment I heard your voice to this moment right here right now, I always have and always will love you. You are my impossible soufflé girl, the mother of my child, the woman about to make me the happiest man in the universe by giving birth to our daughter, and I love you more deeply every day that passes for it.” He looked into her eyes and bore his hearts to her with the hope she’d understand how he felt. “Please, don’t take that away from me.”

Her grip on the pistol loosened as a river of tears came streaming down her face. Her heart was tearing apart as his words began to sink into her soul. The feelings she’d been denying and pushing away since his last body finally felt validation after all this time. Yet, a bigger part of her was so angry with him for daring to spare her from how he truly felt until this very moment. “Damn you, Doctor,” she cursed his entire existence both in mind and spirit. “Why tell me this now?”

“Because I’m afraid of what I will become without you,” he professed. His thoughts were spilling out uncontrollably as he finally released everything he’d been holding back from revealing to anyone. “If you die, I would spend every waking moment making sure our enemies paid for what they’ve done. There would be no rest until I had rained hell upon every last one of them. I’d break all of my own rules, I’d risk all of time and space, I’d let the stars burn, I’d watch as entire worlds collapsed on themselves while billions of voices screamed in agony. I’d give up all of who I am if it meant you’d live.”

His shocking confession bewildered her which prevented her from determining if there was any truth behind his words or if he was simply spewing idle threats merely out of desperation. “I don’t believe you. Your reign of terror would end with the sight of the first crying child and you know it.”

“No, I don’t,” he admitted. “None of you have any idea what I am truly capable of. Or did you believe Quynn was the worst thing to happen to anyone? You’ll never know true horror until you’ve seen a Time Lord on a quest for revenge. There would be no stopping me, nothing to hold me back from myself. There would be more suffering than you can even imagine. The universe has every right to fear me, as it should.”

For the first time, she found herself truly frightened of him. She had never heard him speak in such a way before. It was as if the man she had come to know and love had completely gone leaving her alone within the presence of his inner demons. “If that’s true, then Quynn was right. There is a monster hiding inside of you.”

A new sense of humiliation and shame in himself overwhelmed him at the harshness of her words. He felt defeated and powerless against the truth behind them as he fell forward onto his hands and braced his sobbing form at her feet. “Help me, Clara. I’m begging you. Don’t let me become that man.”

She stared at the fallen Time Lord below her as her emotions shattered into a million pieces. She realized he was right. There was so much more at stake for the universe than what Quynn had in store for it. If this plan didn’t work, she would be responsible for unleashing all the horrors within him no matter who stood in his way. There would be no one to stop him from himself. No one left to remind him of how to care for the lives of others. All that she had ever accomplished with him would be in vain as he chose the path of destruction over being who he needed to be. The thought of how important her life was for the survival of the entire universe was overwhelming. She was lost in thought. Her once trembling hand holding the weapon to her temple had long since calmed. She slowly lowered it into the crate and released it from her grasp. Glancing towards her fallen friend, she knelt in front of him and ran her fingers through his silver hair in an attempt to comfort him as he continued to sob in her presence.

He raised his head at her soothing touch. His eyes filled with tears as they instinctively met with her own. The emotion contained within her expression was unmistakable. He had seen it only once before in his last body. It could only be described as the look of undeniable love and compassion. His hands found their way to her waist as he gently rested his head against her belly and took in her warmth for all it was worth. The child fluttered and kicked from within her at his presence. His hands pressed carefully on either side of her as he experienced the sensation of movement within his palms. His hearts nearly burst with affection for her and her mother as they embraced each other. “I love you both so very much. Please, don’t take her away from me,” he pleaded with every drop of emotion remaining inside of his furrowed old body.

The love he displayed for them at that moment disarmed her from within as she gently wrapped her arms around him and cradled his head in her hands. She knew there would be no turning back now. Whatever their fate may be, only one thing was certain. They would face it together. “Well, old man.” She carefully tilted his head to meet her gaze. “What’s your plan for getting us out of here?”

#12th doctor #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #twelfth doctor #the doctor #dr who #dr who fan fiction #dr who fanfiction #twelve/clara #clara oswald #whouffaldi

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syndianites · 7 years

Text

Talk to Me

Ship: Motanite (Mot x S2 Dianite)

Summary: Mot confessed to his god, after years of being a strange mix of more than friends and special business partners. It didn’t go as planned. Now he wants nothing more than for the god to talk to him.

AN: @theshadowlord I’m sorry this took so long D: I’m the most easily distracted person I know, stg. Hope you weren’t looking for a happy ending, because it doesn’t happen, not really anyway (sorrynotsorry) ALSO I FIDDLED WITH THE PROMPT A LOT LITTLE IM SORRY.

Mot was floating in bliss, silent pants working through his body. Beside him, Dianite lay on his back, giving himself to recover from his most recent orgasm. He knew he had to say something now, before the god left for more business. If not now, when might he get a chance, it was hard enough to get the god alone some days, let alone away from his work.

As the ruby skinned man started to rise, Mot swiveled his head towards him, blurting out, “I love you.” He should have known something was wrong by how he tensed up, muscles drawn taught. Wordlessly, Dianite rose from the bed and disappeared, clothes vanishing with him. Now alone, the half-creeper despaired as to what that meant.

He waited until the next day to seek the god out. Perhaps he should have run after him then, asked him why he ran from him. But he couldn’t. For all his hardiness, he was afraid of the answer he might receive. So when he got out of bed the next morning, (they always had their nights of passion at his house), he made sure Alyssa had a warm breakfast, and had everything she needed for school. Once he saw her off, he made his way back to the compound, blocking out the autumn chill by burrowing further into his scarf.

The welcome he received wasn’t unusual. The dwarves littering the halls looked upon him with scorn, the mistrust in their eyes evident. Any humans he passed mostly ignored him, not unfriendly, but mostly uncaring. He had no real friends in this place, but that didn’t matter. This place only held one significance to him, it was where his god worked. And as he approached his office, he fought back his dread. Dianite was a man of business, he could at least be professional.

Knocking on the door, he wasted no time in entering the room, finding the god behind his desk as usual. Eyes trained on his figure, he noticed the way his shoulders grew rigged, mouth pressed into a thin line. Lifting his chin from his scarf, he calmly announced, “We need to talk.” Dianite gave a sigh, eyeballing the papers on his desk for a moment before shifting them to the side. Meeting his gaze, the god nodded for him to continue.

“We both know what was said last night, and I’m not going to take it back. Whether you return my feelings or not, mine won’t change. I just need to know what yours are.” Readying himself, he added, “Spare me no mercy.” Jaw clenched, the god straightened up, barely any difference noticed in his posture. “While I enjoy our nights of passion, I hold no feelings towards you beyond valuing your expertise and intellect. Out of respect for you, I feel we should end our meet ups, so I don’t continue to lead you on.”

Mot drew a deep breath, letting it go with a nod. Muttering out a thank you, he quietly let himself out of the room. He wouldn’t let this get in the way of his work. Just because he was rejected doesn’t mean he didn’t owe the god for all he had done for him. That didn’t make him feel any better.

He carried on in this fashion for weeks. While he did his best to remain the same, to remain stable, Dianite often gave him the cold shoulder. He may have been trying to help him kill his feelings, but it wasn’t working. The more he was dismissed, the more it hurt, the better he wanted to do, the more he wanted him to just look at him. It was painful.

Alyssa started to notice. At first, she wasn’t sure why Dia wasn’t coming over anymore. But she started to piece it together, the brilliant child she was. Looking at Mot, the way his eyes barely concealed his inner turmoil, and watching the few instances she saw the two together, she was sure something happened. Something that couldn’t be fixed in a day, not even with all the time in the world. So she tried other things.

She tried her hardest to make him happy, to distract him. Her school projects, her newest friends, how well Uncle Jeriah was teaching her the ways of the sword. Everything she tried seemed to fall flat. It was infuriating, frustrating, and she couldn’t remember the last time her father had smiled. But then something worse happened. Dianite died.

Mot was devastated, his love still ringing true. The very man that had saved him from the horror of the streets, the life he couldn’t bear to recall, was gone. The one who had ebbed the spread of his creeper spores, accepted their strange mutations, deceased. His already fractured heart shattered. And for the first time in years, he cried. Long after the horrors of his childhood, the drug addled nightmares he couldn’t escape jaded him, he broke with this one event.

Nothing his friends did could console him, Alyssa couldn’t distract him, but he convinced himself that his pain didn’t matter. Ianite’s, for sure, meant more, her very brother being taken from her. Martha’s did, having been so close to her uncle, Andor’s did, having adored the god more than his own father. (He wasn’t sure how Mianite felt about it, but surely even his feelings meant more than his). But what did the feelings of some creeper infested street scum matter? At this point, he wasn’t sure if anything he did mattered. So when, in a desperate attempt to distract him from the bleeding agony he carried, Alyssa told him of the portal to another realm, he was rather eager to check it out.

As he listened to Spark talk of some imbalance in this realm, he zoned out. Here, with his daughter, he could go through. This was his chance redeem himself. He failed to protect the one person who saw anything good in him, and nurtured it. He lost the love from him, lost the connection he had built. And now, as he stared into the rippling wave of energy, he didn’t have anything holding him back.

So when Spark asked who was going to test it out, he didn’t hesitate to step through. If it killed him, it was for the better.

He was almost disappointed when color started to seep back into his vision. After a minute of pure blackness, he was pretty sure he died. Though he could hear a distinct girly shriek in the background, he figured he was falling into hell. But as he found himself free falling towards the great expanse of an ocean, some magical bullshit hugging him, he knew he was alive.

He sucked in a breath as he plunged into the salty waves, the impact absorbed by the barrier around him. The water here, though far above his head, was rather shallow, and he let himself float to the bottom before pushing off the ground and making his way back up. Emerging from beneath the waves, he looked up when the girly shriek seemed to turn into all out screaming. Two figures were descending at a rapid rate, while a smaller one glided down calmly. The first appeared to be Jeriah, arms crossed as he waited to hit the water. The other was Spark, who would likely deny the fear emitting from him. If he didn’t close his mouth soon, he’d be throwing up quite a bit of salt water.

The two sank in, one after the other, and Jeriah surfaced hoisting a coughing Spark up by the arm. Alyssa floated down, settling easily into the water, her wings not yet large enough to keep her in the air for long. It was silent for a moment, until various metal parts started to hit the water, some larger than others. “Shit,” Spark chocked out hoarsely, “The goddamn portal blew up. Looks like Ianite is going to have to wait a little longer than I thought.”

The group decided to wade towards the beach nearby, a figure clad in red watching them from there. Mot wondered if they really made it into another realm.

According to Champwan, the one who had been waiting for them, and Dec -the priest, but not their priest? -, they were definitely in another dimension. But somehow, the Dianite in this world had died too. Which was just great. They were told the tale of the four heroes of this land who had to defeat Dianite, the god who went mad. (Or rather, they found out he went mad when his spirit returned, a hazy image of himself that sometimes followed people around). He wasn’t sure what he thought of his champion of this world, Tom, who so easily took out his own god.

The four, well, Alyssa just watched but Champwan was happy to help, set out to recover what they could of the broken portal. Many of the pieces were too damaged to be reused, so they would need to be smelted back down (they were baffled when they were informed they didn’t have a smeltery, only furnaces. This would take a while to fix…).

Along with setting up a place for the portal, the newcomers took it upon themselves to explore, to see what this new place entailed. Mot, for some unhealthy, terrible reason, had to visit the Dianite temple. (Champwan had given him directions to it, under the assumption he may want to see it. He was quietly impressed by it, his own god choosing to have his be less extravagant and more business-like. In other words, boring). Though he should have known he would see the deceased god, he wasn’t truly prepared for it.

Once he had ventured into the building, he made his way to the grand throne room, one of marvelous construction, especially when one was most acquainted with the inside of office buildings and drugs houses. And there, seated (? He was a spirit after all, despite his see-able form) upon the throne, was Dianite. While part of his heart clenched when he saw him, he could easily spot the difference between this version and his.

This one, for starters, seemed solemn, showing more emotion in the flick of his tail, the curve of his lips, the hunch in his back, than his god did in his most extreme facial expressions. Furthermore, this one was seriously underdressed, (though he admittedly enjoyed the view), where his own god would rather die (oh, that was not the best word) than go out in anything less than a two-piece suit. When his opalescent eyes centered on his form, the lack of recognition spoke volumes.

But there was a hint of knowing in those transparent eyes. “You’re the alter ego of Tom, aren’t you?” Though his mouth moved, his voice seemed to come from all around them. Tilting his head a fraction, he shrugged, “So it would seem. We weren’t overly well informed as to what we are in this world.” Shaking his head, the ghost responded, “In a way, you aren’t anything. You aren’t supposed to exist in this world. Yet here you are, and nothing has gone wrong because of it. So, I suppose, you are a person of this world regardless of who else mirrors you.”

Mot could almost feel the god’s gaze lingering on his changed skin, and the tendrils snaking out his back wrapped protectively around his waist. “Interesting,” the god continued, “My champion is a zombie, due to unfortunate circumstances. It would seem that the two of you are of similar sufferings. Different, but each harmful in an irreversible way.”

Not comfortable enough to let this man glean farther into who he was, he interjected, “And you and your other are of similar situations. Though… my Dianite hasn’t found himself with the luxury of a see-able form.” Or so he was told. Martha had briefly told him that she could feel Dianite’s spirit, hear his whispers if she listened hard enough. He never heard any.

There was a pause, the god seeming to hesitate. “My strength came back faster due to my… champion,” Mot didn’t miss the slight falter at the word champion, “being the one to kill me. But we both knew it had to happen. I had to be stopped.” The raw emotion in his last words felt ready to swallow the mortal. It resonated around the room, a deep churning shame the had no vessel. Mot gave only a nod in response.

“I need to see that my daughter is well,” Mot resumed the conversation after the small lull, “I’ll… I’ll be back in a little. Promise.” If the god was surprised by his ending statement, he didn’t show it. But as he left the room, it felt perhaps a little lighter than it had been before.

The creeper man found himself making his way back, curious about this other god. Though he was sure that the god knew he was coming back when he stepped through the nether portal, he was still surprised as he made his way into the room. Neither commented on that fact though.

Plopping himself in front of the god, he decided to cut to the chase. “What was this madness the priest claims to have taken over you?” The atmosphere seemed to darken. “It was… something ingrained into me. I had no way of stopping it, so to say. The… madness was sort of a failsafe, if I ever tried to do something certain people didn’t want me to do. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. In the same way you and my champion are different, I’m sure myself and your god are much different the same. I would be honestly surprised if he carried the same madness that tore at me.”

He ended his sentence with a sort of finality, and Mot didn’t feel the need to press further into it. Swallowing, he slowly queried, “So, what was your… relationship, with your champion? What did you see him as?” Honestly, he was just doing this to spite himself, wasn’t he? “Though we never advertised it, we were together. We’ve been together since hundreds of years ago, but there was… an incident that separated us for many of the years passed. Not too long ago, actually, I finally managed to get him to return. I refused to let death keep us apart any longer.” With a slow nod, Mot mulled over this response.

In a way, he was jealous that his alter had such success with his own god, was given the love he never will be. Part of him resented this mystery person. He had seen his homes, heard of his exploits with his friends, heard of this fantastical life he lived. And he always had wanted something like that. How was it fair that this man in another universe, who was meant to be the other him, received so much fortune when he found so little? At least he had Alyssa. She would always be a light in his life.

“What of you and yours?” The god before him returned the question. Careful to keep his words light, he responded, “We were business partners, who often regaled each other with pleasures of the flesh. Until a certain someone fucked it up by confessing his feelings.” The bitter hint at the end of his sentence was not intentional, but he could feel the god’s understanding. He abandoned the topic.

Shifting slightly, from leaning on his fist to sitting with his legs and arms crossed, he proceeded to ask Mot more questions. “I couldn’t help but notice that you have different technology in your world. What advancements are these?” The half creeper was more than eager to move to a new conversation, and told of the wonders of tinker’s construct, how great a smeltery was, and the fine tunings of reactors. He took time explaining many of the tech from his world, silently pleased by how Dianite seemed to soak it in. And as the night wore on, they slowly warmed up to each other.

But they knew they couldn’t replace the people they had lost.

Almost a month had passed, most of which he spent entertaining his daughter in this strange new world and, somehow, enjoying the company of the rather chaotic ghost. (He learned to ignore his idle comments of how he should blow up this, or stab this person to see how they would take it. It was a little harder to stop himself from antagonizing Mianite, however, but his self-preservation pulled through on that). Day by day he found himself toeing the line between hating his alt for the wonderful life he was given, and respecting the man for his apparent accomplishments.

Today, however, found himself in front of some makeshift portal, not yet turned on. “Alright gang,” Spark began, addressing the group of otherworlders, “From the repairing I’ve done with Mot and Champwan, we may have fixed the damn device.” Muttering under his breath, he added, “If only Gaines was here.” Gesturing to the gangly machine, he continued, “We are going to hook it to a pretty rudimentary power generator, and I’ll need someone to test it out. I don’t think you’ll die, but we never know.” Mot wordlessly stepped forward, rolling his eyes as Spark signaled for Champwan to lower the wheel into the river next to them, used to passively gain power.

With a spluttering hum, it whirred to life, the murky blue beams it emitted forming a hazy look into an open field. Sighing, he gave a meaningful glance at Jeriah (‘If I die you better as hell take care of Alyssa’), and started to enter the field. Then something went wrong. “Shit, Mot, get out!” These words reached him just as the machine gave a groan, and his first instinct was to push farther in, fearing what would happen if tried to step out now.

The scenery he had seen from the blue barrier remained, but he could now see signs of humans somewhat farther out. Namely, what seemed to be some sort of reactor? If this was the case, the portal may have worked. Turning back, it was gone. Cursing, he strode forward, ready to ask the nearest person where he was. As he walked around the reactor (that was definitely what it was), he saw someone in the distance, heading towards a house. Jogging up to them, he yelled to get their attention.

The man jumped, startled, and whipped around to face him. And he looked exactly like Spark. But his glasses, they were red? And he didn’t look like an old man, his face appearing rather youthful. (He was rather cute if he was being honest. But that didn’t faze him). Once he spoke, he knew for sure he wasn’t Spark. “Uh, hello? I don’t think I’ve seen you before?”

Putting a little space between them, Mot looked eyes with him. “Oh, I was here long before you were ever here. I’m sure you weren’t here last time I was.” Narrowing his eyes, he queried, “Who are you? You look like someone I know.” He had a hunch. Would they have switched places? “Not you too! Everyone likes to point out I look like this Sparks guy! I’m Captain Sparklez, and I wear red shades.”

Mumbling to himself, he answered, “That you do.” Speaking loud enough for the young man to hear, he continued, “Can you show me the way to Dagrun? I need to see if anyone I know is still there.” He received a hesitant nod, and they were off. He wasn’t sure what would await him. Would he meet his other? How much time had passed? Was… was Dia back?

He met Tom. The energetic, chaotic zombie was just as skeptical about him as he was of the other. But after their duel, he seemed to settle a little with the idea of having an alter ego. Though they still weren’t quite friends, they weren’t about to kill each other. So, yeah. Progress. And apparently his god was still dead. And people had heard him talk, his spirit following some people. Still, he heard nothing.

He wasn’t bothered by this at all, and when he was given a room to stay in for the night, he definitely wasn’t calling the god out on it. “You would talk to strangers from another dimension on a whim, but not your own goddamn champion? Must you still give me the cold shoulder, even in death?”

As he was about to add to his rant, as quiet voice rang out, “You left.” Before he could respond, Dianite spoke again, “You just leave this world, not even telling me, and expect me to welcome you with happiness and relief?” The mortal grit his teeth. “I’m so fucking sorry that you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me without having someone else there! How was I supposed to know that the portal would break? I was under the impression you didn’t give a shit about me anymore in the first place.”

The silence was heavy, but Mot was relieved to at least tell the god his grievances. “You… I was actually starting to fall in love with you, you know? But the last time hurt so much… with all my power I couldn’t stop the inevitable end of their life from coming. I was scared to love you, because I was afraid you would die one day, leave me all alone again. But I guess I was fucking right, you did leave me. And it was your choice.”

And when he screamed back to the god, he knew he wasn’t heard. He dropped the bomb and left. How dare he think that he could pull that guilt trip? When he was the one who made Mot feel worthless again? When he had taken to pushing him away, to forcing him to get over it? How fucking dare he think he had the right to feel hurt, when his heart shattered the day he refused to speak with him alone, when he refused to even act like a friend to the man? He screamed at the god, who must be so far away now, until his voice was hoarse, worn down by all the regret and anger he kept inside for so long.

But now, he didn’t have to pretend he didn’t care. As the last of his anger fled, he only felt numb.

The two didn’t speak again. Tom, however, seemed to have a strange fascination with the half creeper. At first, it was under the pretense of wanting to get to know his fellow champion. But as they spent more time together, he actually sought him out just for his company. It was nice, having someone so openly happy to see him. He was starting to grow rather fond of the zombie. (He couldn’t help the pang of jealousy when he remembered that his god loved him, that his life was going so splendidly. He crushed it down every time. He needed this man, as much as he hated to admit it. Something about him eased the pain a little).

The more he got to know the zombie, the more he got to spend time in his tree house. Though he was much more into the desert of Urulu, which he had visited a few times, but stayed in Dagrun to help with the… taint situation, he found the space to be quite homely. A few times, he even slept over. (At some point, Tom had set up a permanent room for him. It was one of his guest rooms, but, he informed Mot, he didn’t get many guests this far out).

He wasn’t expecting to be awoken by screams one of the nights he stayed over. After all, what would someone with a perfect life have to nightmare over? Apparently, a lot. (In the back of his mind, he feels guilty for labeling Tom’s life as perfect so quickly, assuming he hadn’t had to work to have what he did. Somedays, he could see the cracks in his relationships with his friends, from when his god had lost himself). So when he made his way into Tom’s room, he wasn’t really prepared for the shivering, sweat streaked mess the zombie was. They didn’t talk about it, but Mot made sure to stay with him that night.

(The next morning, Tom mentioned in passing that he clearly remembers his descent into death, and that sometimes if he sleeps wrong it will feel like he’s falling again, and he’s not sure he could do it again. But he says it like he’s talking about the weather, so Mot just nods).

At some point, Mot found himself rooming there full time, even as the tensions in the world were strung high. Though there was talk of reviving Dianite, they never talked about it in the treehouse. Instead, they saved that time to bonding. Mot even found himself haltingly sharing his wretched experience as a half creeper, in which Tom listened quietly, a strange look for the normally fidgety man. In return, Tom would tell him of a time long before what he had now, when the world was more focused on fighting. He would point out scars, telling him what they meant and what battles he got them in.

Of course, the two didn’t spend all their time together, Mot checking in with old acquaintances, or Martha, or even Ianite. (Ianite had always been fond of Mot, though he wasn’t sure why. She was one of the first people to figure out something happened between him and Diante). As time passed, Mot found himself less involved with his pinning over Dianite (feelings still there? Yes? Damn.) and more into the problems of the land.

And then they went to revive Dianite.

Steve shouldn’t have needed to do that. How could they have missed such a crucial thing? Now as his body disappeared, he was torn between grief for Steve, someone he liked even if they didn’t talk much, and the distant happiness at seeing Dia alive. But as his figure rose, his eyes sweeping over everyone gathered there, but him, that happiness died. And Steve become more important than his god.

As he went to console Martha, Tom went to speak with the god. He didn’t look over at them. He couldn’t. Even if he tried his best to squash his feelings for his god, he couldn’t stop the anger of how easily Dia could converse with his alt, when his original champion was right there.

But then World Historian showed up, and he didn’t have time to think about it. (Some things were more important than Dianite).

He was falling again. The endless blackness the moved around them, the only signal that they were going anywhere. Even with the strange, squishy platform they could vaguely move about on, the quarters made close with the sheer amount of them, Dianite would not fucking talk to him. After a few tense blow offs, in which anyone brought into a conversation with the god immediately wanted out, he gave up. If he wanted to be a selfish asshole, they didn’t need to work out their problems. He was willing to be professional, not forget their nights together, to let his shriveled feelings die. And he was going to do that with or without the god.

Now sitting with Tom, the younger having fallen asleep against him, he chose to think about someone else. He wondered how Alyssa was doing, stuck with the wet napkin and the worried Ianitee (he despaired, quietly, how they would break the news about Ianite to him). Instead of pinning for a man who would never return his feelings, he worked on thinking of a new future, without him. (And it hurt, still. Shards of his heart break still lingered, and they would, for a long time. Even now, he struggled to let them go). And, despite the weird nature of their relationship, he wondered how the other Dianite was doing, a bored spirit yearning for chaos.

Settling his head on top of Tom’s, he listened to the zombie’s even breathing. Some people were more important than the god.

(AN: Did I do an okay job? I couldn’t just leave it at an angst ending for some reason. I don’t know why, but it felt like Mot already had so many injustices in his life, that he deserved some way to look towards a better future?? My poor creeper child. Sorry(notsorry) for making S2 Dianite kinda an asshole, I figured that would amp of the angst ;D. I also couldn’t stop myself from putting other ship references slid in…)

#Motanite #Motinite #MotxDianite #DianitexMot #Mianite #MianiteS2 #angst #supposed to be hardcore angst #oops

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