#nothing like your muse ghosting you for 7 years and then breezing back in to make you write 30k in 5 days 🙃

[wistfulwatcher]

nothing's gonna harm you; misty/nat, 32k, explicit

Nat is waiting for Misty when she comes home, with news of another break-in. Misty makes sure to look shocked and confused when she says, “Oh, no!” and closes the front door behind her. “That’s awful.” Then, smiling wide, she holds up a bag of take-out. “Hungry? You can tell me what you found over dinner.”

or, Misty stages a series of burglaries to get Nat's attention, and it absolutely works. Eventually.

Read on AO3, or find the beginning of the fic below the cut.

Misty isn’t lying that first time.

Well, she maybe exaggerates the situation, sure. But she isn’t lying. Someone was in her house. She was sure of it.

Misty has always been observant, and her vigilance has only increased since they returned from the wilderness. She isn’t forgetful; someone was in her home, and someone was looking for something. And after, they had left a closet door open.

So Misty had done the most logical thing she could do, knowing the crime statistics she did: she put Caligula in a travel cage, she walked right back out of her house to her car, got in, and locked the doors.

And then she called Natalie.

“What?” Nat answers, a little too flat to be an actual question. Misty is used to the irritation in her voice. For a moment she considers reminding Nat of their new relationship—she had come to Misty to get rid of a body just a few days ago, and now they were closer than ever, remember?

But Natalie must be realizing the same thing, because her voice softens to that resigned, bone-tired tone instead. “Hi, Misty.”

Despite the situation, Misty smiles at the way Nat says her name. “Well, I just—” she remembers herself, and pushes her glasses back up. “I don’t want to alarm you, Nat, but someone just ransacked my house.”

“What?” Misty has her attention now. “Who? Why?” Nat doesn’t ask if Misty’s alright, but Misty forgives her—it’s a lot to take in.

“I don’t know. Maybe Adam was working with someone.” Caligula squawks, and Misty holds a finger to her lips until he settles down. “I’m in my car right now. I don’t know if they’re still here.”

“Shit.” Nat sighs hard into the phone, and Misty can almost pretend she feels her breath from the way the line crackles. “Stay in the car. I’m on my way.”

Nat hangs up before Misty can respond. Instead, she beams at Caligula and tells him, “We’ll be alright, sweet boy. Natalie is coming to protect us.”

***

Not While I’m Around is playing for the tenth time when Nat parks behind Misty’s car. Nat’s new vehicle is a far cry from her Porsche: a plain-looking sedan that must be ten years old, and squeaks when she parks it. Misty watches Nat get out in the rear-view window, and imagines that it was probably the fastest thing she could get on her limited funds; Misty knows Nat well enough to have a hard time imagining her without the freedom to leave at any minute.

Nat gets out of the car, and Misty rolls down her window as she walks up. “See anything while you’ve been out here?” she asks, and gestures toward Misty’s house.

From the moonlight and the streetlamps, Misty can see Nat’s rifle on her shoulder, and a few bullets peeking out of the pocket of her denim shorts. Her hair is loose and limp in places but kinked in others, and Misty wonders if she’d been lying in bed when Misty called. Nat leans forward and grabs the window frame. Misty can smell a faint trace of whiskey on her breath, and her hair smells smokey from her cigarettes.

Misty swallows, in awe of the woman in front of her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get over the raw power Natalie exudes when she’s like this, or how confusing it feels—in moments like these Misty isn’t sure if she wants to be Nat, or be her best friend, or something...else. Something deeper. Something so powerful, it’s frightening.

“N—no, nothing,” she finally remembers herself, and answers Nat.

Sliding the rifle from her shoulder, Natalie checks the gun and loads it, the cracking noise echoing down Misty’s suburban street. “Good. Stay here.”

And she’s off, moving quickly up the stairs to Misty’s door, the heels of her boots clacking loudly up each step.

Misty only hesitates a moment before she whispers to Caligula, “Mommy will be right back,” and gets out of her car. She follows Natalie’s path, and steps across the threshold of her front door.

Suddenly Natalie is pointing the rifle at her face, and Misty’s eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ, Misty!” Nat snaps, lowering the gun and turning back to face the rest of the room. “I told you to wait outside.”

“I didn’t want you to do this alone,” Misty answers, and starts to follow Natalie through the house.

Nat doesn’t respond, just raises the rifle up as she makes her way through Misty’s home. She moves through the space quickly but thoroughly, opening doors and pointing her rifle inside each one. Misty whispers over her shoulder each time, identifying whether each is a room or a closet, and how likely it is someone could be hiding in there.

Natalie doesn’t acknowledge Misty’s words, but she rarely does. Instead, Nat completes the loop around Misty’s home until they wind up in front of the heavy basement door. This time Nat does look over her shoulder, and Misty reaches out to test the basement door. It hasn’t been locked since Jessica left, and it pops open when Misty turns the knob.

The lights are off, and Natalie squints as she peeks through the crack that has been opened. After a moment, her rifle flags a little and she gives Misty a suspicious look. “The fuck is down there?”

“A basement?” she whisper-snorts, because it’s pretty obvious. But Nat’s still looking at her, so she gives a little shrug and reaches across Natalie to the light switch just inside the door. She jerks her hand back as Natalie starts to move into the basement, rifle in front of her as she scans ahead.

There’s nothing down there, and the room is as neat and fresh as she’d left it a few days ago. All signs of Jessica have been destroyed, of course, and the space looks like a normal guest or panic room again.

“What’s all this for?” Nat asks at her normal volume, gun pointed down at the ground as she looks around. She walks over toward the bed, and for a moment Misty’s eyes widen, wondering if Nat will see the handcuffs tucked discretely between the mattress.

Misty’s heart beats faster as she wonders what Nat will think of her if she does; she’d assume that it’s something sexual, right? A thrill rushes up Misty’s spine as she considers what Natalie would think of that. Would she finally see Misty as fun? Would she finally see Misty as someone as flirtatious and sexual as herself? Someone worthy of thinking of like that?

But Nat’s eyes pass smoothly over the bed and back around the rest of the space. Misty feels relief and disappointment in turn, and shrugs innocently when Nat looks at her again.

“My basement guest-slash-panic room. You never know when a maniac will break into your house after all,” she gestures upstairs.

Nat snorts and puts the safety on the rifle before tossing it onto the bed. “What maniac?” She slides her free hands to her lower back and presses her hips out. Her eyes are dark, both from her usual kohl and the intensity with which she looks at Misty. “You said this place was ransacked, and I didn’t see a fucking thing out of place.”

Misty straightens, and pushes her glasses up. “I—I cleaned up a little before I thought to call you,” she scoffs to cover up the lie. Habit,” she shrugs one shoulder, and slides her hands into the pockets of her sweater.

Nat stares straight at Misty before she relaxes her shoulders and lets out a groan, and pulls her hair back away from her face. Misty has always been good at reading Nat—it’s part of why she’s Misty’s favorite, she never hides her irritation—but not in this moment. Nat seems frustrated, but not in the way she usually is with Misty, in the shallow way that Misty is happy to ignore until Nat nears her breaking point.

This time, Nat seems almost sad in her frustration. Disappointed, maybe?

“Fine,” she finally says, voice soft, and slings the rifle over her shoulder. “Show me what it looked like before I got here.”

Misty quirks her head to the side, reading Nat a moment, before she smiles at her and agrees, leading her back up the stairs. Once back up, Misty points out spots in her living room, kitchen, and hallway, where her books and drawers had been rummaged through and knocked over.

And the closet, which had actually been opened, though Misty makes sure not to make that distinction when she points it out.

“And what’s in here?” Nat asks, popping the door open all the way to reveal cleaning supplies and household tools that Misty rarely uses.

Misty shrugs, and looks up at Natalie with her widest eyes. “Nothing of value, surely. I have no idea what they would have been looking for in here, but I doubt they found it. All of my most valuable things are in a safe, and that was untouched.” Nat’s focus drifts from Misty’s face, so she rushes to add in her weakest voice, “That’s why I’m so scared. I have no idea what this could be about. I must have scared them off when I got home.”

As she hoped, Nat focuses back on Misty then, at the worry Misty makes sure is clear on her face. For a moment, Misty wonders if Nat might give her a hug and try to comfort her.

Instead, Nat stands up straighter, and clenches her jaw. “Well, then we need to be prepared for if they come back. If someone was working with Adam, then they probably know about...all of it,” she lowers her voice as she refers to the wilderness. She looks thoughtful, and leans up against the wall. “We might be able to get some answers about the blackmail.”

“Of course,” Misty wants to sigh, knowing by “blackmail” Nat means Travis’s murder, but instead she says it with sunshine and a smile. It would be nice if Natalie was primarily concerned about Misty’s well-being, but she can work with this, too. “We should set up a trap.” She feels a bolt of inspiration, and rushes to add, “And you could stay the night, so if they come back you can interrogate them right away.”

Nat gives her an incredulous look. “I’m not sleeping in your panic room.”

“Oh! My bed is plenty big, we can share. Like a good old-fashioned sleepover.”

Ignoring Misty as usual, Nat pushes off of the wall and walks over to the living room. She nudges the sofa with her knee. “This is fine.” She pulls the afghan Misty made last fall from the back of the couch, and sneers at the many throw pillows crowding the piece of furniture. “What kind of trap?”

Misty bounces a bit in excitement. “Let me grab Caligula, and then I can put a pot of coffee on and we can start brainstorming.” She lifts her shoulders and clasps her hands. “This’ll be fun!”

Read the rest!

[cakesunflower]

Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 8

A/N: apologies that it took me over a month to update this fic!! but now i’m done with college (big yikes) so now i can get back to writing and updating on a semi regular basis :-)

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

“Josie—got a cutie waiting for you in the front.” Josie glanced up at Sarah’s words, pulled out of her conversation with Lizzie as she swiveled in the leather salon chair at one of her stations. Her eyes caught sight of Calum leaning against the desk, her eyes immediately meeting his as he raised two fingers up in a wave.

Josie excused herself from Lizzie, walking down the length of the salon with her eyebrows raised and a surprised smile curling at her lips, not expecting him to drop by. “Hey,” she greeted with a small laugh, glancing at the receptionist, Maddie. “I’m gonna step out real quick.”

Maddie hummed in response and Josie grasped Calum’s wrist, pulling him outside for some privacy. Talking amongst Los Angeles pedestrian traffic was better than in front of all her coworkers, even if they were some of the chillest people she’d ever met. The sun was bright, as always, and Josie let out a laugh as Calum pressed her against the brick wall next to the window of the salon. “Hi—what’re you doing here?” Josie greeted.

Calum smiled, his frame shielding Josie from the sun as he gripped her hips. “Wanted to see you real quick and ask you somethin’,” he responded, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. Josie inhaled sharply as she kissed him back, the smile evident on her lips. When they pulled away, Calum raised a hand to curl his finger around a stray lock of her blonde hair, his grin never leaving at Josie’s curious expression. Brushing his nose against hers, voice dropping low, Calum asked, “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Josie’s heart jumped at his words, her grin widening as his finger brushed along her cheek. Her own hand had reached up to play with the chain around his neck, an accessory she thought he worked unfairly well, as she bit down on her grinning lip. Her cheeks were already hurting from the grin on her face, excitement coursing through her veins. She felt silly, being so thrilled with the simple question Calum asked her, but she would be lying if she said it wasn’t one she had been waiting for.

“I would love to,” Josie responded, feeling a warmth spread in her cheeks under Calum’s gaze. She kind of loved how he so easily made her blush.

“Great,” Calum smirked, hips pressing against hers. “You’re off tomorrow, right?” Josie nodded with a hum. “Alright—I’ll pick you up at your room at five.”

She scoffed out a laugh. “Five?” Josie asked with a raise of her eyebrows. “It’s a bit early for dinner, isn’t it?” She normally ate at seven, years of classes interfering with her schedule having an effect on when she ate.

“Not for what I’ve got in mind.” Calum chuckled, winding his arms around her waist to keep her close. “None of that dinner and a movie bullshit. I got somethin’ planned for us.” He pressed another kiss to her lips before murmuring, “Alright, get back to work.”

Josie smiled, pressing her hands to his chest, reluctant to move away from him. But right before she did, her smile turned coy. “Just so you know—I’d totally be fine with a dinner and movie with you.”

He grinned as she pulled away, heading back to the door. “Noted.”

For the rest of her shift at work, Josie couldn’t help but think Calum was a bit of a tease. She loved that he had been impatient enough to arrive at the salon to ask her on a date in person, loved the few kisses they stole before she had to go back inside. But concentrating on her next few clients had proven to be difficult, to busy trying to school her features to hide the wide grin that threatened to erupt at the mere thought of going on a date with Calum. Her excitement buzzed at her veins, crackling like electricity, and she wondered what he had planned for the two of them. 

Later that night, when Luke was in his bedroom getting ready to turn in for the night, Josie was leaving the kitchen to go into her own when Calum entered the living room, his shift for the day a short one. Josie’s eyes widened in excitement at the sight of him, making sure the water didn’t spill from her glass as she quickly ran over to him and grasped his hand. 

“Can I get a hint for where we’re going tomorrow?” she asked with a sweet smile, looking up at him with big blue eyes in hopes to get him to give in. 

But Calum knew how to handle Josie. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes, lips curling up to grin as he ran his tongue along his lower lip. “Not happenin’, sweetheart,” he responded, making Josie’s lips fall into a pout. “Just don’t wear heels.”

Josie scoffed, gaping up at him. “That’s so vague, Calum.”

He moved past her, a ghost of a smirk apparent as he took off the cushions on the couch in preparation to pull out the bed. As Josie walked over to help him, he pointed out, “At least you know it’s not fancy.”

Josie didn’t hesitate in taking one of the cushions and throwing it at Calum with a huff. He merely laughed, catching it easily before it hit him and placing it on the ground. “You’re the worst,” she declared, fixing his pillow before walking around the bed to head up the stairs to turn in for the night.

Behind her, she could hear the smile in Calum’s voice as he asked, “What, no goodnight kiss?”

Raising an eyebrow, she looked at him over her shoulder. “Do you think you deserve it?”

Calum’s face scrunched, eyebrows drawing together and lips pulling downwards as he scoffed. “Yes.” Josie watched him, fighting off the amused smile that threatened to grow as he approached her, his dark eyes never leaving her blue. “All this sneaking around, keeping my hands to myself so we don’t get caught? Fuck yeah, I deserve a damn goodnight kiss,” he grunted.

She couldn’t fight the grin that split across her face, only for it to be obscured by Calum’s hand placing itself on the back of her neck, using it to tug her closer as he bent down to close the gap between the two of them. Josie wasn’t about to push him away, though she still smiled against Calum’s lips as she kissed him back. He tasted like minty toothpaste and Josie was no stranger to the subtle yet exciting thrill she felt shoot down her spine at the act of so openly kissing him in her house, knowing her brother was just up the stairs. 

She would much rather embrace the surge of exhilaration of sneaking around behind Luke’s back than the guilt of keeping such a secret from him.

*****

As he had said, there was a knock on Josie’s bedroom door at five in the afternoon the next day, right when she had finished tying the laces to her most comfortable pairs of red Converse. She paired it with a yellow sundress, tight around the bodice and fluttering around her mid thigh, and it consisted of small red roses that matched her shoes. Calum had said it wasn’t a fancy date, so Josie hoped her outfit choice was fitting to whatever he had planned for them.

In the couple of seconds it took for Josie to walk from her bed to the door, she did her best to tamp down on the excited flutter that had been a consistent presence in her stomach since yesterday. It was kind of funny; her and Calum were already together, obviously, but the idea on going on their first date made it seem all the more official. Like they were actually doing this—despite having been doing it for a while. Being with Calum, even though they were sneaking around, brought Josie a sense of calmness that she hadn’t experienced with another guy before. As though in the grand scheme of things, she had nothing to worry about, no reason to doubt Calum or what they had.

It was refreshing and exactly what she needed.

Him. He was exactly what she needed.

When Josie opened the door, her grin easily curled at her lips at the sight of Calum, dressed in his favorite baggy black pants, a silver belt chain looped on the side, with a white shirt tucked in and his shining black leather jacket on top. He looked casual and comfortable and so unbelievably good—if Josie lacked better control of herself, she’d melt into a puddle right then and there.

Instead, a smile graced her pink lips, leaning against her door as she playfully mused, “Well, hello there.”

His boyish charm was ever present as he returned, “I’m here to pick up a blonde bombshell.”

At that, Josie let out a very unladylike snort, pushing herself away from the door as she turned her back to him to grab her purse off the dresser. “Don’t ever call me that again,” Josie laughed, grabbing her denim jacket in case she needed it. Raising an eyebrow, hoping to filter some of the overwhelming excitement she felt, Josie asked, “We out?”

Calum grinned and the glimmer in his eyes told Josie he was just as excited, and nervous, as she was. “Yes, ma’am.”

They got in his car and were on the road just moments later, all the while Calum kept expertly shut about where they were going. After shutting her down for the sixth time, Calum scoffed before letting out a laugh, shooting her a look as he said, “You’re the most impatient person I’ve ever met.”

Josie shot him a skeptical look as his playlist played a Coldplay song. “More than Ashton?” she questioned, the smugness seeping into her voice because she knew she wasn’t nearly as bad as their friend.

Calum scoffed, one hand on the wheel as his left elbow remained propped on the door, the window down to let in the pleasant breeze. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

Josie’s jaw dropped, a gasp escaping her as she pointed at him accusingly. “That’s fucked up.”

He merely grinned, shifting so his left hand was on the wheel to allow his right hand to grab her pointing finger before maneuvering her hand so he could lace their fingers together. The gesture only widened Josie’s smile, warming her cheeks as she felt the breeze dance through her blonde tresses as Calum drove them to whatever secret destination he planned for. Josie eventually resigned herself to Calum’s desire of wanting to keep things under wraps, enjoying the car ride with him as the music played, the wind billowed in her ears and his fingers remained laced with hers.

The calm that settled over her was welcomed, enjoying the sensation of her hair tickling her skin as it danced in the wind and the warmth Calum’s touch brought. Already, Josie knew this was probably the best date she’d been on. Simply because it was with Calum.

Soon enough, they arrived at their destination, and Josie’s eyebrows raised as they passed the sign that read their arrival at Lake Balboa Park as Calum pulled into a parking lot. Josie hadn’t been to Lake Balboa before, but there were barely any clouds and the branches on pretty cherry blossom trees, and as she stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching underneath her shoes, the smile was easily lifting her lips.

Especially when Calum walked to the trunk of the car, opened it, and revealed a folded blanket and, quite literally, a sizable picnic basket that had Josie’s smile widening all the more. Her lips were parted in surprise, gaze flickering so her blue eyes could meet Calum’s triumphant brown ones, and no amount of sunshine could spread warmth throughout Josie’s body like Calum did in that moment. He grabbed the blanket and tossed it at her, which Josie caught even in the midst of her shocked state, and the wide grin he wore told her he knew just how off guard he’d caught her.

“A picnic?” she asked, well aware of the answer, the excitement evident in her tone and the way her dimples deepened at her grin. It was taking a lot of willpower not to bounce on the balls of her feet. “Stop—that’s so romantic.”

Calum smirked as he shut the trunk, quirking an eyebrow as they began walking. “Why do you sound so surprised? I can be romantic,” he added with a huff.

Josie snorted, hugging the blanket to her chest as she shot Calum a look. The sarcasm was evident in her tone when she drawled, “Yeah, pushing me into the pull because Luke came home just screams romance.”

He shot her a flat look and Josie merely smiled sweetly, and though she was teasing him, she found the memory funny. It had happened only a few days ago when the two of them had been enjoying their backyard pool. At one point, they’d gotten out, were in the middle of kissing, when Luke’s loud voice announced his arrival and, in a panic, Calum had pushed Josie into the pool. When she had resurfaced, she stared at him in utter disbelief while Calum had the decency to look just as surprised at his actions. 

The two of them continued down the path, greenery and flora around them and Josie was mesmerized by the sight of the lake, noticing the ducks that swam contently and the few pedal boats among them. Eventually, Calum found a nice spot under a tree right on the soft grass, the lake in front of them, and Josie smiled as she spread the blanket before the two of them settled on it.

“Alright,” Josie grinned, sitting comfortably with her legs folded beneath her, leaning back on one hand as her gaze met Calum’s. “Dazzle me with romance.”

She watched intently as Calum began pulling out the items he had packed, consisting of cloth napkins, plates, utensils, two glasses to drink the red wine—which made Josie a lot more excited than it should’ve. She then noted all of the food he brought, her eyebrows raising and lips parting at the dishes; fresh corn and tomato fettuccini, shrimp summer rolls, cut up pieces of toasted baguette, and chocolate truffles for dessert.

Holy shit. “Did you make these?” Josie asked, the awe evident in her voice as she eyed the fettuccini and shrimp rolls.

Calum’s gaze met hers and Josie saw the pride dancing in his dark eyes, smiling as he answered, “Sure did.” Then, with a smirk, he asked, “Are you dazzled yet?”

And a little bit in love, but Josie kept that fleeting thought to herself.

Instead, she leaned forward, right hand finding the back of Calum’s neck as she pulled him close, hoping her kiss would convey just how amazing all of this was, how much she appreciated it. Calum truly went out of his way to make their first date special, taking advantage of the perfect weather and putting his skills in the kitchen to use in making the food that looked and smelled delicious. There was a permanent warmth in Josie’s chest; no one had ever made such an effort for her before, and it was impossible to keep the smile off her tingling lips after she slowly pulled away from Calum.

His smile remained, brushing his nose against hers as he said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Calum completed the set up by pulling out his phone and letting some music gently play as he poured them some wine before they indulged in the food he had prepared. Josie couldn’t keep the smile off her face even if she tried as they ate, drank, talked. Her gaze never left Calum, admiring the way the sun peeked through the cherry blossom tree above them and splashed against him in certain spots, feeling like she was in the scene of a damn movie as a flower occasionally fluttered down and brushed against her skin.

Eventually, after they’d finished the delicious food Calum had made and the wine was pleasantly warming her up, Josie sat with her back against the tree and Calum’s head resting in her lap. Her fingers were running through his dark hair, the strands soft between the digits, and she admired the content smile on his face, eyes shut as he reveled in the feel of her fingers in his hair.

They’d been at the lake for over an hour or so, judging by the way the sun was slowly making its descent, but neither of them made a move to leave. Instead, Josie picked up one of the cherry blossoms that had fallen next to her, holding the pink flower by its short stem and twirling it before glancing down at Calum. With a gentle smile upturning her lips, Josie held it upside down before lowering it, tickling the tip of his nose with the petal.

She watched as his nose wrinkled, closed eyes scrunching at the sensation as his lips curled into a close mouthed smile. The peaceful expression that rested on his features transformed into an amused grin, breathing out a laugh as Josie hummed, “Thank you for today, Cal.”

He opened his eyes then, dark brown looking up into bright blue, and his smile softened. The natural pinkness in his cheeks tempted Josie to kiss them as she brushed some curls away from his forehead. Calum reach his left hand up, the silver bracelet dropping away from his wrist as he cupped Josie’s cheek. “Anythin’ for you, pretty girl,” Calum told her earnestly.

The blush returned to her cheeks, but she didn’t have much time to register it as Calum pushed himself up and brought her down enough for their lips to meet in the middle. Josie melted into him, into the kiss, and came to the conclusion if a perfect day were to exist, it would be this.

They’d watched the sunset after, and as the cicadas began chirping throughout the darkened park, the two of them packed up the picnic and, with Calum’s fingers intertwining with hers, made their way back to his car. The drive home, as always, was filled with chatter and music, and when they pulled into the driveway, Josie sat up. “Oh, Luke’s home.”

She glanced at Calum, who didn’t look troubled at all, and it wasn’t lost on Josie how his calm managed to relax her effortlessly. So the two of them got out of the car, deciding to bring in the picnic basket—the most damning evidence of their outing—later on when there was no chance of Luke catching sight of it.

Josie chewed on her lower lip, unable to stop the nervous habit, as they walked into the house, instantly catching the attention of her brother, who was on the living room couch watching TV. “Hey,” he greeted before turning to look at the two of them, eyebrows raising as a corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “Where’re you coming from all dressed up—a hot date?” he joked, gazing at Josie questioningly.

She knew he was completely kidding around, but the oblivious truth in Luke’s words had Josie’s heart momentarily stopping, stomach dropping before she forced herself to scoff. “No—I was out with some friends and asked Calum to pick me up.”

It would be better if she didn’t focus on how swiftly that lie escaped her.

Next to her, Calum huffed. “What, I don’t look all dressed up?”

Josie wanted to nudge him into silence as Luke gave him a once over before offering a single shrug. “Nah,” he answered before turning to watch TV once more, unaware to the scowl that scrunched at Calum’s eyebrows, mildly affronted.

Despite herself, Josie couldn’t fight off the amused smile upturning her lips as Calum made a face at the back of Luke’s, so childish and boyish and endearing. Leaning close to him, her voice a whisper, she chanced the risk of Luke hearing her as she hummed, “I think you look hot.”

The smug smirk on Calum’s face, accompanied by the wink he sent her, made the risk worth it.

*****

“Go on without me—leave me here to explode in a mess of spaghetti sauce.”

Josie caught Luke’s bemused eye roll as the rest of the boys chuckled at her antics, though she was serious about the implication of being unable to move. She dropped down on a bench on the sidewalk, her stomach feeling heavy after the lunch she practically inhaled; the portion of spaghetti had been the size of her head, almost, and Josie had practically licked the dish clean. And although her mouth was quite happy with the delicious explosion of taste, her stomach was another issue. She genuinely felt like she couldn’t move.

And the fact that the cars were parked a few several blocks away. . . Josie didn’t think she could make it.

“Alright, Lil’ H,” Ashton spoke up, making his way to her and promptly ignoring the distasteful scrunch of her face at the nickname he’d uttered. It was one he and the rest of the boys coined for her back when they were a lot younger, and although they outgrew the use of it, there were still some instances where they’d mention it. Josie had never liked it. She watched as he stood in front of her before turning his back to her, wiggling his fingers out at the seated girl as he said, “Hop on.”

Her eyes lit up, understanding that he was offering her a piggy back ride. Not needing to be told twice, Josie got up as Ashton crouched down enough so it was easy for her to hop onto his back, arms winding loosely around his neck as his hands gripped her thighs to keep her up as he stood straight. She grinned where she was settled on his back, catching the exasperated shake of Luke’s head and the fond grins on Michael and Calum’s faces before they all continued on their way.

Moments like these made Josie a lot happier than one would think. For as long as she and Luke knew the boys, Josie had always feared that she was encroaching on her brother’s friendship with them. When they were kids and she would sometimes tag along, at first Luke had been irritated, but his fondness for Josie always won out in the end, and he’d bring her along to get food or to the park when he would go with the boys. Because of that, the rest of them grew fond of her too. It wasn’t hard, either—it wasn’t like there was years and years separating her from them in age. Only a couple, but she was still Luke’s little sister. And even though they would harmlessly tease her for that, always playful and never spiteful, there had been moments when Josie would think they were sick of her tagging along when she did.

Now, though, with all of them in their twenties, that feeling never came back. Even if it did, Josie knew that Luke would never allow for it to stay for too long. Same went for the other boys. And Josie loved them for it.

“Come to think of it—I don’t think it’s that great of an idea for you to give me a piggy back ride after eating,” Josie piped up, glancing down at Ashton with a raise of her eyebrows.

He made a noncommittal sound, utterly at ease as they continued. “It’s either this or listen to you complain—which I can totally do without.”

Josie scoffed at his teasing as she heard Calum lowly chuckle next to them. “I’ve got my arms around you, Irwin. I can easily choke you.”

She couldn’t quite see his face, but Josie heard the smirk in Ashton’s voice as he responded, “Sounds kinky.”

Luke, having heard him, shot Ashton a scandalized look that the rest of them merely laughed at. Josie was sure she heard him mutter something about his friends corrupting his little sister, and she rolled her lips into her mouth as she glanced down at Calum to her right. He met her gaze, mirth and mischief both dancing in his eyes, silently letting her know he’d heard Luke as well.

They kept making their way down the sidewalk until Michael stopped in front of the glass walls of a vintage looking record store. He didn’t even have to tell them he wanted to go in before everyone was already turning towards the shop, Josie hopping off from Ashton’s back as she wandered inside. It smelt just like Josie thought it would; of plastic wrap, laminated cardboard, and heavily treaded carpet, yet there was something familiar about it as she danced the tips of her fingers over a few records stacked on the table in front of her.

They all shuffled through the aisles, looking at the various records, an unfamiliar classic rock song playing in the background. As Josie moved, she happened to glance up, only to freeze when her eyes startlingly met an achingly familiar pair of green ones. The breath caught in Josie’s throat, nearly choking her, as Austin stood a few tables away, a furrow knitting together his eyebrows as he registered exactly who he was looking at, too. And when he did, the confused frown transformed into a scowl, and the blood in Josie’s veins froze, ironically springing her into action, too.

“Oh, fuck me,” she whispered, unaware of Michael’s confused glance her way. The panic heightened, though, when her ex-boyfriend moved to approach her, and with her eyes widening in alarm, Josie silently turned around and swiftly made her way out of the store, ignoring Michael’s confused calls of her name.

Shit, shit, shit. She did not want to have an unprecedented confrontation with her ex-boyfriend, who—by the looks of it—seemingly had a bone to pick with her. Pushing the door of the store open, Josie stumbled out onto the sidewalk, the fresh air not enough to loosen the tightness of her throat, and she’d barely made it two steps away from the store when Austin’s voice froze her in her tracks.

“Do you ever get tired of running away?”

Josie squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, face scrunching in aggravation before she forced herself to turn around, meeting Austin’s unimpressed gaze. Despite herself, Josie rushed out, “I don’t run away.”

He scoffed, not at all convinced with his arms crossed over his chest. His tattooed biceps was a bit more pronounced under the short sleeves of his shirt than she remembered. He’d been working out, it seemed. “That’s exactly what you just did,” Austin pointed out, a wry smirk tilting at his lips. “What, you didn’t want me to see you with your new boyfriend?”

As if the universe had some kind of personal agenda against her, just as Austin had asked his question, the door behind him opened and out stepped her brother and the rest of the boys. Josie was biting down on the tip of her tongue as Austin stepped away to look at both her and the boys, and the panic quickened the pace of her heart as Austin gave them all a once over.

Luke frowned at Austin, knowing exactly who the guy was, jaw tight as he asked, “What’re you bothering my sister for?”

Just as he had asked that, Josie had simultaneously told Austin, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

She’d desperately wished the words hadn’t fallen past her mouth, noting the brief flicker of Calum’s gaze to her, and Austin rolled his eyes at her words. There was something dancing in his green eyes, and Josie recognized it as his intent of making this as difficult for her as possible, a resentment driven need for some kind of revenge over her breaking up with him more than once.

“No?” Austin cocked his head to the side, challenging. Josie was fully aware of everyone’s gaze on her—especially Calum’s. But she watched as Austin allowed his gaze to wander over the four other men, a sardonic smirk on his lips as he asked, “Tell me, Josie—which one of your brother’s buddies are you fucking around with?”

Her heart jumped out of her body, as if a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over her head as she gaped at Austin and the obvious smug expression he wore. Oh, God. No, no, no. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go down. She couldn’t even be furious with Austin for pulling this shit—Josie was too busy drowning in the panic and anxiety that churned her stomach, the busy buzz of the street silencing into the background, all too aware of her thundering heart beat. This wasn’t happening.

Josie vaguely heard Luke sputter indignantly, ready to give Austin a piece of his mind, but her ex beat him to it as she watched his gaze take in the other men standing before him. She watched as Austin’s gaze ultimately landed on a stone faced Calum, who also looked about two seconds away from breaking Austin’s nose, before her ex huffed out a humorless laugh through his smirk and jutted his chin at the tattooed brunette. “It’s this one, isn’t it?” He clicked his tongue, a knowing expression flickering across his face. “I saw you with him around campus a couple of months ago. Should’ve known.”

Josie’s gaze flashed to Calum, who didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he was too busy glaring at Austin, hands curled into fists at his side. Michael and Ashton remained silent, the tension enveloping them nearly suffocating as Luke’s confused glare settled on Austin. “Yeah—I told them they should hang out when Cal was visiting. . .”

The way he trailed off, his stare flickering between his hardened best friend and frozen sister, Josie could pick up on his confusion, the skepticism that was filtering into his voice as he looked between the two of them. Luke looked unsure of what to believe, his irritation with Austin’s arrival overshadowed by the bewilderment his accusation brought. 

Next to her, Austin snorted. “Looked way more than hanging out to me,” he surmised, and Josie was overcome with the urge to sock him in the jaw, too. God, what was he doing? Why was he doing this?

Of course, she knew. She was just still trying to process.

His green eyes met her unblinking, startled blue ones, and Josie’s heart dropped at the guiltless look in his gaze, utterly unapologetic that he just majorly screwed things up for her. With yet another sardonic smile, he quipped, “Nice to know I’m not the only one you’ve fucked over.” He purposefully looked towards her brother, let out a scoff of contempt, before pushing past them to head back into the store.

Everyone was a bit too shocked to do anything but let him go.

Hesitantly, Josie shifted her gaze and it immediately landed on Calum. He was watching her and Josie’s throat tightened at the concern she was met with. He looked worried—not that Josie blamed him. She was pretty sure she hadn’t taken a breath in the past few minutes.

Calum looked like he wanted to step over to her, to hold her hand, but he also looked conflicted, unsure of what the right move was. Josie wasn’t sure, either. Yet her softened gaze remained on him, hoping her silence would convey that she understood, that this was all so royally fucked.

But then she looked at Luke, who had been watching them this whole time, and Josie’s throat locked up when Luke’s blue eyes narrowed. He took a step away so he could look at both Calum and Josie, eyebrows drawing together as Michael and Ashton exchanged a look. “Is he. . .” Luke trailed off, a disbelieving scoff escaping him as he looked at Calum and Josie. “Is that true? Did you two—”

All she could make out in his tone was one of disbelief, nothing else to give away how he was feeling. Maybe he was as numb as Josie felt. 

Her lips parted but no words came out, because Josie truly didn’t know what to say. Should she confirm Austin’s accusation—his truth? Or deny, deny, deny? It seemed that in that moment, all of the sneaking around behind Luke’s back and subtle lies were starting to choke her, daring her to spew out another one right to his face after basically being told the truth from a third party. Sure, maybe Josie could play off Austin’s words as some jealous, resentful ex, and maybe Luke would believe her. 

But, God. She was sick of the lies.

Before she could even decide what to do, Calum moved, and Josie’s gaze instantly fell upon him as he came to stand next to her. She watched him, wide eyed and parted lips, as his gaze remained fixed on Luke, who was watching him with sharp eyes. “We aren’t fucking around,” Calum told him, all confident and firm despite the bombshell he was dropping. “And it wasn’t just a random hook up. Josie and I are together.”

Her heart was in her throat, anything she could possibly say dying on her tongue as she looked up at Calum, eyes wide at his confession. They hadn’t quite discussed when the right time would be to tell Luke about them, and Austin had made sure they wouldn’t after what he’d done. And as surprised as Josie was that Calum took it upon himself to confirm the truth, there was also the tiniest bit of relief she felt relax her stiff muscles. The kind of relief that came with letting go of a secret that had been weighing her down for too long.

Calum’s gaze flickered down to her and Josie inhaled softly at the look in his eyes; soft, reassuring, encouraging. It was enough to make it easier for Josie to breathe.

But when she looked back at Luke, who was still silent, it felt as though an iron grasp had found its way around her heart. 

And instead of exploding on them in a fury as Josie had feared, Luke remained still, Ashton and Michael watching the scene unfold intently. But Josie remained focused on Luke. His expression was empty, features never giving away what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Luke, who was so expressive, but looked utterly blank in that moment.

Who was quiet. Too quiet—a complete contradiction to the betrayed anger that was swirling in his eyes. And, Josie realized with her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach, Luke’s silence was a whole lot worse than anything she could’ve imagined.

--

tags: @irwinkitten​ @loveroflrh​ @astroashtonio​ @sweetcherrymike​ @softforcal​ @wildflowergrae​ @loverofhood​ @captain-what-is-going-on​ @angelbbycal​ @singt0mecalum​ @hopelessxcynic​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @bodhi-black​ @findingliam-o​ @softlrh​ @highfivecalum​ @calumsmermaid​ @erikamarie41​ @quintodosuniversos​ @longlastingdaydream​ @babylon-corgis​ @lukehemmingsunflower​ @spideyseavey @miss-saltwatercowgirl​ @pastelpapermoons​ @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi​ @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @mindkaleidoscope​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @cocktail-calum​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @thesubtweeter​ @mycollectionofnuts​ @cthwldflwr​ 

[dreamofcentipedes]

Red Lotus Blooms: 7 - Blood and Water

Summary: A monster is forged in flame. As light burns out, red leaves unfurl. Under the new lights of Tokyo, Tatara's feral existence is disturbed by the appearance of a girl calling herself a god.

Characters: Tatara, Eto, Noro

Rating: Teen Words: 5, 749 Link to AO3

Link to Table of Contents

The Japanese air suited Tatara well. An unfamiliar air to an unfamiliar place, hostile and unwelcoming, where he was unknown and undesired. A bad place to live, a good place to die.

That was Tatara’s life here – an extended death. A quest for death, inspired by death, suffused with death, seen through the eyes of the dead man walking, who had no home to return to and nothing left to defend. He was the agent now rather than the victim. He had encountered the reaper and left with the scythe.

This was the tale the devastated bodies of countless Tokyo ghouls testified. A year and a half had passed since the refugee conned his way aboard an aeroplane and came to the Japanese metropolis, where the futuristic sheen of neon lights and towering concrete was juxtaposed against remnant wooden shrines and their ghosts of gods and nature. It was a modernity forever in the shadow of the ancient, a living past well suited for his zombie-like existence. In those eighteen months he had set about cannibalising every ghoul he could get his hands on. He did not know the rules of territory, and they did not matter to him. The big fish ate the little, and Tatara had yet to encounter any fish bigger.

Nor did the birds pose any threat. Excessive eating habits like those Tatara was exhibiting typically attract the attention of the local doves, but the years he spent in Chi She Lian had taught him the art of stealth. He made sure to leave nothing left of his prey – if he was interrupted, the intruding element would join his meal. When a ghoul syndicate of the size of Lian had floated past the CCG like ships in the night for years, masking the presence of one ghoul using their techniques was child’s play. He still did not understand how the Chinese CCG ever managed to find Yan. They could not find him, though – no-one knew Tatara Huo was in Japan.

His days were spent sleeping in alleyways and his nights prowling the dark. He had none of the comforts he was used to in his old home, but comfort, or home, was not what he was looking for. This was atonement. He would master his kakuja and kill Kousuke Houji. That was all.

It was the kind of lifestyle that made little in the way of allies and much in the way of enemies. It was on one night in a brisk winter, within which even the ascetic Tatara could not abide sleeping outside, that he came across a dilapidated hideout and discovered it was occupied. This was not much of a deterrent as he slaughtered every ghoul inside. They were stronger than he was used to, but it was hardly an even match. After sleeping there for two nights, he heard a knock on his door in the morning.

His white cloak, now stained with dirt and blood and sewer water, dragged along the ground as he moved to the shattered window and peered out with tired eyes. The ancient house was detached in an old industrial area that was mostly abandoned but had become a common haunt for ghouls. He knew what kind of visitors they would be.

A short girl who looked around his age stood out front in a burgundy robe and a green-haired bob cut with some kind of accessory. She was flanked by a tall and sinister figure wearing a similar robe and sporting a black ponytail that stuck straight out of the top of his head. Most notable, however, was his mask. It was pale, with the emblem of a toothy mouth and no discernible eye holes. Tatara felt as though he should be careful of this one. Shortly, he lumbered down the stairs and swung open the door.

“What?” He asked charmlessly. Japanese had been one of the languages Chi She Lian had taught him. The Huo family had been big figures in the Chinese business world, so knowing the language of their closest trading partner, together with English, was necessary to retain their influence in the sphere of human politics.

He could see now that the accessory on the girl’s head was a red lotus flower, not unlike the kind that had floated among the fish in the old pond at Yangshuo. It soured his already grim mood to see a stranger so casually appropriate his memories. He could also pick up their scent at this range. The masked man smelled as ghoulish as he looked, but the girl had a curious scent he could not quite place. Her big eyes beamed with a salesman-like enthusiasm.

“Hello sir, we’re here to talk to you about Our Lord and Saviour -”

Tatara swung the door shut. He made to leave, but he saw the door open again. The girl had caught it just in time.

“Ah…you’re definitely going to hell for that one.” He heard her grumble cheerily.

“I’ll send you to hell if you don’t leave now.” Tatara threatened, looming over the dwarfish woman with a glower. He had always been tall for his age, but he had come to equal Yan’s stature in the past year. Her silent companion matched him for height, however, dampening the threat.

“Mmm, I doubt that.” She retorted with a wink.

Tatara’s patience ran out and his kagune raced out. As soon as his eyes reddened, so did one of hers – just one - and she instantly blocked the blow with a bizarre-looking kagune of her own. It stretched out from her upper back and was swollen and bloated with an array of tiny arms and fully-fingered hands growing out of it. The masked man did not seem to react at all beyond leisurely moving back a few steps to give the girl some room.

After Tatara glared at her some more and she responded with a smug grin of her own, he swung his kagune back to his side and she lowered hers.

“So you are a ghoul. Or some kind of mongrel.”

“How rude, a lady has feelings!”

Tatara narrowed his eyes.

“Okay, okay, Mr Grinch.” The girl complained, and lightly rapped her knuckles against the man standing next to her. “Couldn’t you tell from my buddy here? He sticks out a bit. Kind of like you, with your chin-mask and your period dress.”

“I knew about him.” Tatara snapped. “It’s you who I was unsure of. You stink.”

The girl clutched her imaginary pearls again in affected wide-mouthed shock. She had a major talent for getting on his nerves.

“And I made an effort to look nice and everything. Here, do you like it?”

She tugged on the flower perched on her head. There was no denying that the girl was pretty, but her personality quickly poisoned any appeal she might have. Not that Tatara had any interest in such frivolous matters in the first place.

“Why are you here?” He growled. “To fight? You want the building?”

“Well, that’s one way this could go down.” She mused with a knowing smirk. “We want the building back. You’re squatting in my territory.”

Her territory? So the masked man wasn’t the leader? It was this runt? Tatara could not help but scoff. Well, he was here to eat ghouls anyway. He was hardly going to complain if they presented themselves at his doorstep. No matter how strong they might be, Tokyo had no ghoul organisation anything like Chi She Lian. He was a big fish in a small pond.

“You’re not getting it back.” Tatara asserted menacingly as he poised his kagune above his head in striking position.

“Oh, you can keep it, I just want it back.”

…What on earth was this woman saying?

“This is the other way of going about things.” She touched her nose in confirmation of secret knowledge.

“And what’s that?” Tatara asked warily.

“We talk about our Lord and Saviour.”

Tatara swung the door shut.

“Wait, seriously!”

She caught it again.

“I’m serious. I think we could all do with a bit of God in our lives. Without a God to look up to, we’re lost, confused. We might as well just be stumbling around in the dark.”

The girl was sounding frustratingly earnest now. He preferred it when she was mocking him, instead of saying such ridiculous things to him in all seriousness. He was torn between killing her and just walking away.

“After all, if there’s no God…hmm. What was it Shakespeare said? ‘Humanity must perforce prey on itself like monsters of the deep’.”

Tatara froze. How much did she know…?

“You’ve been eating a lot of ghouls, haven’t you? Those hits, the reason it’s so dangerous for ghouls to go out at night now – it’s you, isn’t it?”

“And what if it is?” His returning whisper was sharp as a dagger.

“Well, some of those people are my people. You’ve been making things veeery difficult for me. But, if I can avoid fighting someone as scary as you, that would be swell. Especially if that rumour is true.”

The rumour that cannibalisation makes ghouls stronger, he assumed. Tatara knew this to be a fact, but it was not common knowledge.

“It is. So go home, and stay out of my way.”

“But here’s the thing,” The girl yammered on, “I think this can all be settled peaceably. I can’t let a ghoul like you keep making trouble for my baby organisation. However, a great threat could also make a great asset.”

Tatara watched her expectantly. She stretched out her hand.

“Be happy, Hannibal Lecter. I’m offering you a job.”

He met her with stony silence.

“You’d get to keep the pad, of course, as company accommodation. Besides, aren’t you tired of living like a wild animal? Aogiri Tree can give you roots. Stability. Purpose.” She looked up at him with a wicked and unstable smile that made her suddenly seem much more dangerous than she had initially appeared.  “Let me be your God.”

The cold wind whistled down the early morning alleyway. Their cloaks fluttered in the breeze.

“I have a God.” Tatara answered icily. The severed head of Kousuke Houji. “Do you want to fight here?”

The girl looked down in disappointment, and then heaved out a sigh with a shrug of her shoulders. “Ah, I really thought you would agree. What a pain. Well, no, we’ll probably kill you in your sleep or something. Until then, think about my offer! The name’s Eto, this guy’s Noro. Don’t call us – we’ll call you.”

She turned and began walking away with the tall man following behind her. Tatara was hardly going to let a threat like that slide by. He shot his kagune silently through the air towards the girl’s back.

In an instant, an eldritch, carmine kagune with a maw of enormous jagged teeth burst out of from the lower back of her companion. It smashed back Tatara’s bikaku and slipped right back into his body. Neither of them missed a step.

What a strange pair, Tatara thought. He did not mean it fondly.

He knew he would have to be all the more on his guard henceforth. But perhaps, if he grew strong enough to defeat that silent spectre, he would be strong enough to defeat Houji, too.

--

It was not long before the Aogiri assaults began.

It started with minor assassins that Tatara made short work of. He was no heavy sleeper, alert from his feral lifestyle and plagued as he was by nightmares of burning buildings. He knew he could be free of his unwanted guests if he just left the old shack. The nights had not gotten any warmer, but if necessary he could always get hold of a place occupied by less persistent ghouls. However, he had no intention of giving that brat the satisfaction of victory, and besides, he was grateful for the free meals and prey he could play with like the catfish in that pond he was feeling nostalgic for. He had kept a collection of heads now that he had somewhere to hide them, mostly just to keep count.

The more time passed, the more assailants came. Clearly this Eto did not like that her drones were not coming back. As the waves kept coming, Tatara began to notice some disturbing features. One set of heads he collected had their mouths completely stitched up. Others, their eyes, groping about entirely by smell. If she was hoping to win the battle of psychological warfare, she had picked the wrong target. Horror was his habitat now, and burnt bodies all looked the same.

He could feel his power growing with every discoloured limb he forced down his throat. On the rare occasions he needed to activate his kakuja, he noticed it had grown taller, wider, stronger. His firepower was now hot enough to rage in blue. It was not enough to simply become like Yan: he must surpass him if he ever hoped to defeat his killer. So he welcomed the nightmare more than ever when it came to his doorstep in full force.

A light snow was falling that night, but the heavy snow from the night before had already swamped the ground in velvety frost. Trudging through the snowfield, the small army knew they could not approach quietly, so they compensated by making themselves horrifically visible. Monstrous masks replaced their faces and their kagune stretched out on full ghastly display. They yelled war chants and beat their chests and stamped their feet with ferocious intensity until they came to a halt outside Tatara’s self-made abode.

He examined them from the window. Something like a hundred ghouls were amassed beyond his walls. Not bad for a fledgling organisation, though he had certainly never heard of Aogiri Tree before. He noted with caution the presence of the masked man, Noro, among them. His kagune was freakish, like nothing Tatara had seen before. Perhaps it would be wisest to take him out first.

As for Eto, he could not see a green head of hair among them. Leaving it to the grunts. How insulting. Or so he thought, when he heard a familiar voice pierce the dark.

“Tatara? Tatara Huo?”

He backed away from his vantage point in shock before hurriedly pressing himself up against the aperture. He could see a small figure wrapped head to toe in bandages, wearing a short burgundy cloak with a colourful neckerchief and a hood with protrusions like rabbit ears. What a grotesque appearance. Was this Eto in full ghoul flare? More importantly, Tatara thought, grinding his teeth, how does she know my name?

“I see you, Tatara, come on down!”

Tatara placed his hands on the windowsill and looked down disdainfully.

“Come in, I insist. I’ll make it nice and warm for you.”

“Somehow that doesn’t sound too inviting.” Eto objected from below. “It still doesn’t have to be this way, Tatara. You can make up for all my people you’ve killed. Join us, and we’ll give you a blank slate.”

“There are no blank slates.” Tatara shot back cynically.

Eto giggled. “No, maybe not. We’re never really free from our pasts, are we? Not until the wrongs are righted.”

A brief silence fell upon them amid the tension and snowfall.

“You know,” Tatara told Eto through hostile eyes, “I’m getting tired of your indirectness.”

“I’m telling you that I can take you to Kousuke Houji.”

A longer silence passed as Tatara gripped the rotten wooden windowsill like a liferaft. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears as blood pulsated through his brain. Houji. She can take me to Houji.

“I told a friend of mine about you, and apparently he knows you. He knew about China and Chi She Lian. He knew about the Huo family and their extermination, and the operation’s shining star: First Class Kousuke Houji. Ah, or that should be Special Class now. He did so well they bumped him up two ranks when he got back home.”

He’s here. In Japan. In Tokyo? If Eto could take him to him, then he could not be too far away. Tatara’s head was flooded with a rush of memories like acid. Fei’s stupid nicknames for him. The pride on Yan’s face when Tatara told him about his first kill. A burning building, an interloping whale, and, out of the corner of his eye, the cold professional face of Death. A solemn admission and an agonised howl.

“I also heard a story about a half-kakuja escaping their grasp. Apparently, they never found the middle child either.” Her bandages crinkled in an impish grin. “So how about it, Tatara Huo? Join us, and he’s yours.”

“No.” Tatara responded immediately.

“…No?” Came Eto’s confused reaction.

“No.” Tatara asserted in a firm voice coloured by the anger surging through him. “Here’s what we’re going to do instead. You’re going to tell me where he is or I’m going to kill every last one of you.”

Eto stood silently as snowflakes settled on her cloak.

“You’re alone against a hundred of my best ghouls. Do you really think you’re in the position to make an ultimatum like that?” Her face, expressionless behind her bandages, rose. A single red kakugan gleamed in the black hollows of her eyes. “Do you know who I am?”

“No. And by the time I’m done with you, no-one will.”

Tatara reached into a storage space and threw something out onto the snow. The ghouls instinctively leapt back, but when they saw it was not explosive they inched closer and turned it over. The head of a would-be assassin graced the midwinter floor elegantly, the blood long too black and congealed to stain.

As soon as they looked back up at him, Tatara left the windowside and retreated inside to prepare. No more negotiation. This would be no Xuhangli, he affirmed to himself: Eto would follow the Longxia into the graveyard of over-reachers.

--

It was a matter of seconds before the first wave of Aogiri ghouls had broken down the door. It was a matter of seconds before their bloody carcasses decorated the desolated apartment.

They had instantly began running up the stairs, knowing that Tatara would not have had the time to descend, only to find strange burning balls tumbling down the stairway. On impact, the long red cloaks of the ghouls were set alight, and they immediately turned around to quench the flames in the moistness of the snow. A turned back made an easy target for Tatara’s kagune, snaking down from the top of the stairs to zip in and out of head after head like a fine scalpel, sparing no time stuck in the flesh but seizing prey after prey after prey.

All the while, in his hands Tatara began to hurl the flaming balls directly at the backs of his victims, knocking them to the ground and catching them in between the fire on their back and the fire on the floor: as the balls from before were still rolling about, spreading fire in their wake. To burn alive caught between two walls of flame while looking at the stitched eyes of your fallen comrade staring up at you sightlessly, the flames melting their face and yours alike…

How’s that for psychological warfare?

The warriors in the first wave who survived the initial onslaught left screaming in a mad panic, deserting into the darkness and ruining the Aogiri formation as other ghouls broke off to stop them. There was a brief pause before Eto sent in a second pack of wolves, but it was a hesitant, demoralised bunch. As they inched into the kitchen just through the entrance, their heads swung round at a flaming object sent hurtling towards the old gas cooker.

Those heads were jerked back at lethal angles in the force of the explosion that resounded throughout the ground floor. It was left blackened and smoking without a single survivor from that second wave. Tatara had sprinted back up the stairs just in time to avoid the blast himself and rolled to the floor to avoid being spotted through the window. Peeking up outside, he could see more desertions ensuing. Suddenly, a kagune smashed down right in front of his face.

He leapt back as a ghoul pulled itself up onto the window frame. Eto must have sent out two waves at once, he realised with irritation, one for the door and one for the windows. Before the ghoul could break its kagune free from the house’s brick exterior, Tatara rammed it outside again with his own kagune. He realised that now, however, Eto would have an accurate read on his location.

Several other ghouls quickly followed, clambering up the windows into multiple different rooms. As soon as Tatara knocked one off he would find another entering through a different window, and while he managed to keep the windows in his immediate range clear, he could not defend windows in separate rooms at the same time: which meant that an increasingly large numbers of ghouls did manage to get into the house, posing a much larger threat and taking much longer to kill. And the longer it took to kill those ghouls, the less time he could spend defending the windows, until he found himself becoming overwhelmed.

The space was too small. It had worked to his advantage before, but this time he needed open space. Charging towards an invading enemy, he kicked her out of the window and jumped.

Cracking out his kagune, he anchored himself to the wall of the house and scampered vertically towards the roof. As he ran he noticed that the assembly of the main force below was completely gone, while clamberers were everywhere. He even had to kick a few off just to make it to the roof. Eto had clearly recognised which strategy was superior. Somewhere, she must be among them.

He climbed up on top of the roof in little time and saw that, for now, thankfully, it was clear. It was flat and tiled, making it ideal as a non-flammable battleground – it would be no good if the roof collapsed beneath him. As clamberers made their way up to him, he activated his kakuja.

It had reached colossal proportions. A scaled silver beast, nigh identical to Yan’s. The old anger coursed through him now, savage, relentless. With a sweep of its gigantic arm, the clamberers fell right back down into the snow; the cushioned fall meant nothing when their bones were shattered instantaneously.

The titan peered over the ledge. The scalers were struck with terror, one so badly he fell off immediately. The others joined him when their lives were scorched out of them by the firestorm erupting from Tatara’s throat. He kept the blast going like a red waterfall, moving along one side of the building, then another, roasting every climber who dared advance. They plummeted to the ground like ashen comets. Tatara had lost track of how many scores of people he had killed now, but he knew there was only one side of the building left.

Before he could turn around, he was knocked severely off balance by an intrusive wormish kagune. His flames puttered out as he skidded along the rooftop, but managed to remain upright. The kagune bit into the tiles and, propelled by its forward motion, a man burst into the sky like a rocket, before landing on the rooftop with perfect form. The eyeless mask stared at him. It was a confrontation Tatara had been waiting for. He was ready to incinerate him on sight, before something emerged from his back. Relinquishing her clutch on Noro’s robe, Eto hopped down to join them.

“If you were going to destroy the house, you might as well have just left.” She complained.

Her words were just meaningless noise to Tatara in his kakuja’s mental state. It lived to kill, not to talk. With a roar like a hurricane, Tatara barrelled forward.

Noro’s kagune with its rows of shark teeth bit at Tatara’s legs, but his armour sustained the blow. Hauling his great weight into the air over the ankle-biter, he slammed his chest into the empty space where Noro and Eto were standing just a second before. They had split in opposite directions, Eto perched on a corner of the roof, enjoying the show, while Noro stood directly behind Tatara, his kagune already poising, rising, striking.

Just in time, Tatara managed to block the great serpent with his appendage. The tension between the two forces continued for some time before Tatara flung off the kagune to the side, but it wasn’t long before it was circling back around towards him. He unleashed a jet of flame that sent the kagune rearing back to its owner with its blind head singed and seeming to scream. Tatara continued to defend himself with the blaze of protective blue fire as he pummelled his pillars into the rooftop to right himself. When he was standing and blew the fire out, Noro was gone.

Immediately the kagune smashed into his back, and Tatara thrust his appendage forward to prevent his weight from being used against him again. The kagune was fast, hitting his back like a machine gun, first here, then there, constantly moving and leaving nothing unscathed. Tatara could feel his armour weakening and his pain rising, but while he was under assault from behind, he could not turn to face his foe, rendering his firepower useless. Each hit made his anger burn more furiously. Eventually, Noro’s teeth cracked through the armour and sunk into the kakuja’s exposed flesh.

It was the opening Tatara needed. Now that Noro’s kagune was firmly attached to him, he hauled his bulk around with all his strength, and dragged Noro with him. As the kagune’s teeth clung onto Tatara’s flesh, Noro was flung upwards into the sky and twisted around by Tatara’s circling movements. The stress of the motion made the kagune finally give way and broke off with a chunk of kakuja flesh, and Noro went flying off the side of the building and plunged into the snow beneath.

Tatara lumbered towards the edge, stinging from the sheet of missing skin. Through the spiderlike eyes beneath his helmet he could see that Noro had landed on a bricky outcrop in the snow from which a small leafless tree stood up limply. Or rather, his head had. Blood stained the bricks as his cranium was twisted at an unnatural angle. This battle was over. He made to turn to Eto and crush her next.

But before he could, he saw a strange spasm out of the corner of his eye, and turned back to the body. There was no way he could be alive. And yet, with sudden recoil like an elastic band, the head spun rapidly back into place. The vacancy of its white plaster face stared up at him, expectantly.

What kind of monster was this?

The body begun bleeding, but not blood. His body was bubbling with a boiling red tar that oozed and squelched around him in a mad cthonic dance. As the crimson mass grew and grew, more and more mouths grew out of it, littering the tendrils racing at Tatara with tongues and teeth. Tatara swung out his appendages to defend himself, but the teeth of the chattering, moaning wall of crimson midnight bit into them and tugged, throwing Tatara off his balance and towards the snow, toward the nightmare abominable.

A rocket of flame lit up the bloodlike darkness and set the creature curving backwards as its many mouths shrieked and gnashed their teeth in hatred of the light. The snow melted beneath Tatara’s feet as he stomped forward and vomited fire, pouring out of his helmet in an incessant stream of incendiary viscosity. The alien entity loathed the heat, and its tentacles surrounded Tatara and assaulted his back relentlessly as its main body desperately retreated further from the flames with each step Tatara took.

The force of the assaults were far worse with Noro in kakuja form, and his many arms flooded into the hole his kagune made earlier, ramming and tearing at the exposed skin of Tatara’s kakuja. Yet Tatara persisted, even while his legs stumbled and his body grew weary, and his earholes ached with the cacophony of screeching sound and pain multiplied in him like a virus. The vaccine of hatred soothed whatever torments hell could unleash upon him. This thing was getting in his way, just like the Whale had back at Xuhangli. Standing between him and Houji. Between vengeance. Between salvation.

He would not forgive that.

As chunks of Tatara’s armour were torn off and shattered on the ground, as blood poured from his wounds and his legs gave way, Tatara dragged himself across the floor, inching closer and closer to the noctal horror until he could grab it by its fleshy, slimy surface and hold it still so its central, largest, mouth, tongue lashing out like mad dog, could face the judgement of fire.

It screamed at a pitch that rent the human ears before disappearing into the supersonic as the moisture was drained, sucked, stolen from the once-slobbering tongue. The flames burned right through the protective wall of teeth, exposing the creature’s innards to the full agony of the scorching of the flames that warped the tongue and shrivelled it to a cinder. Its tendrils writhed around uselessly as its mind was subsumed by torture. Before the judgement could conclude and Tatara rule death on the hellspawn, another interfering voice cut through the silent noise.

“Stop it, Tatara. That’s enough. You win.”

The flames guttered out and the aberration lay dazed, its many visionless heads paused mid-motion, jaws wide or clenched or thrown back. Tatara tore himself out of his ruined kakuja and dropped into the snow, battered, bruised and bloody, but far from broken.

Eto was standing in front of the house not far from them, her small form smaller in defeat. To make sure, Tatara blasted his hulkish kagune towards her. She had no time to react and was quickly caught with a yelp inside its stranglehold, crushing and squeezing her like a boa constrictor. Tatara walked closer as he hoisted her into the air.

“You’re going to take me to Kousuke Houji. Understand?” He informed her in a voice colder than the night now warmed by the inferno.

She eked out a response like “Yes” as she battered at the kagune with her small arms, struggling to breathe.

“I will have full control over you and your organisation until such a time that he lies dead at my feet. Do you understand?”

She hacked out an affirmation like a wheezing cough. He had not been opposed to working with Aogiri, but merely working for them. The last scion of Chi She Lian was not going to follow a petty gang leader around like a lapdog. They might make for convenient puppets, however, so long as he pulled the strings.

Tatara relaxed his grip for a moment so he could get a clear answer out of her for his next question. She gulped down air like an oasis in the desert.

“Where is he?”

Eto was still focused on her heavy breathing. He made his point in a sudden constriction, and she screeched out an answer at the night sky as her back was jolted up again.

“Cochlea! He’s in Cochlea!”

Cochlea, huh…Tatara had heard via eavesdropped conversations from ghouls and doves alike about the maximum security ghoul prison in the 23rd Ward. What, had he become a glorified guard dog? It was about the worst, most difficult to access place he could be. But with Aogiri at Tatara’s disposal, assuming he had not already killed all the ghouls they had enlisted, it might just be possible to squeeze open a breach and find his way inside. Making his way out again was not important. All that mattered was that Houji dies.

He cast his gaze over the smoking husk of the Noro kakuja. Its owner was just now tearing himself free, come back to his senses, with his cloak tattered and singed and looking much worse for wear. If he could defeat a monster like that, win a battle of a hundred to one, and bring the head of a sizeable ghoul organisation to heel within the same half-hour, then he was ready to face Houji. He could feel it in his heated blood. After a year and a half of this bestial existence, he could finally fulfil the promise he made to those ghosts so dear to him.

He pulled the barely breathing mummy closer to him so his glare singed her bandaged face.

“You’re going to break into Cochlea for me. No objections.”

Before her solitary red eye could make any response, he released her from the hold of his kagune the hard way. She was flung into the snow and rolled along its dunes, until she finally came to a halt and shakily began to lift herself up. Noro strode over to help her with a quickened pace.

A second, ethereal sunset fell in the sky as the night was illuminated by the glow of the red and blue flames coating the house which had led to all this chaos. Just as the roof caved in, ten or so survivor ghouls crawled hurriedly out of the ruin to freeze before the triumphant Tatara. They dropped to their knees when they read the situation, as did the eight ghouls who had left earlier to unsuccessfully round up deserters.

The remainder of the ghouls that had come there that night lay out in a litany of charred corpses. Together with the remains of the great black kakuja, they stood out in sharp contrast against the septic whiteness of the snow. They had made quite the spectacle here, and a great deal of noise too. It would be good to leave before the doves caught wind of it.

As the reluctant ghouls led Tatara to the Aogiri base under the menace of his kagune, he looked back on the scene with a pride like elation. Here was one burning building that burned for him. Nothing was taken from him in these flames - only from his enemies.

Cochlea would be next. He was so close now. So close.

[theonewiththefanfics]

The One That Got Away (part 9)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12- END

Pairing: Cassian x Reader; Platonic!Poe x Reader

Genre: still angst, have no idea when Imma give ma babies a break, but it’s looking up a bit... I think...

Warnings: some sexy time implications, other than that I don’t think there is anything else

Word count: 2386

Y/N was exhausted when she came to consciousness. Her body went to slump forward from the vertical stance it was in but found to be unable. Her hands, legs and even her neck was restrained by metal clamps.    Her sight was blurry but slowly bit by bit it went back to normal and her breath hitched as she realised where she was. The wast galaxy outside and the Dreadnought in front of her told Y/N as much. A voice from behind startled the girl as she strained to see, yet the restrains didn’t allow for pretty much any movement at all. Though there was really no need for sight. That voice would haunt her for the rest of her life, no matter if it was minutes, hours or decades.    “I thought I’d have to wake you up, but I do have to commend, you have perfect timing.” Kylo Ren stood in front of her. There was almost like glee shining through his face, which was a strange sight. He came to stand right next to her ear. “See that planet over there?” his long gloved finger extended and her eyes took in a brownish green planet. Kylo didn’t say anything for a while, letting her figure things out on her own.    It took Y/N a hot minute. Her brain felt fuzzy and she couldn’t really gather thought but then it dawned on her- Yavin4.    “No,” a breath filled with panic and terror and anger escaped the girl, a tear already splashing on her tunic. “Please, don’t. You have what you wanted, you have me, please.”    Kylo only chuckled in response. “I don’t want you. I wanted you to stand beside me as we ruled the galaxy. I would’ve thought you the ways of the Force, but just like the other girl Rey, you’re just too far into the Light. The only thing I want from you now is to watch you crumble as you witness everyone you care about perish. All.. because… of you..”    The tears continued to slip down her face in a steady stream but her eyes were only filled with rage. She felt hot from the anger, her body trembling. Kylo leaned in closer to her face and traced the jagged scar from her neck to her collarbones. 

   “But before we do all of that,” he pushed a lever making the chair spin around. Y/N eyes widened in horror as she saw Cassian chained up to the wall, “there is someone here who’d like to say goodbye.”    “Rot in Hell,” the captain spat.    “Wouldn’t have expected your last words for Y/N to be those, but I guess we’ll have to do with what we have.” The Supreme Leader pushed the lever once again and Y/N snapped back into the previous position. She couldn’t wrap her mind around why Cassian was there. She’d left him by the ship, she messed with his mind, so that he hated her, but it looked like Kylo saw the confusion.    “There is more to mastering the control of a mind than simply saying a command once. It takes years of practice to make a decision you’ve made stick.”    And then it dawned on her- he didn’t actually hate her. She had failed. Y/N didn’t know when he’d broken the illusion, but he’d done it and now Cassian would die because of it.    No. Horror hit her like a wave once again. He wouldn’t die, it wouldn’t be that easy, Kylo wouldn’t give that kind of mercy, he’d be tortured and she would be able to only listen and not do anything.    He once again came to stand next to her, his breath fanning over her ear, hairs on the nape of her neck standing up. “Anything you want to say to your love?”    “Rot. In. Hell.”    “Hmm,” he mused, “pity. I had hoped for something a bit more heartfelt. But fine so be it.”    “General Hux,” the large man called to someone behind, “tell the Dreadnought to load their cannons and obliterate the Resistance.”    “Yes, Supreme Leader.”    Y/N kept her gaze on the galaxy outside. She had had enough time to let Poe and Jyn and the rest of Rogue One alert the Resistance of the mole, yet Y/N had no idea how much time had passed since. She didn’t know if they were on their way to somewhere else, somewhere safe or still on the surface of the planet soon to be blown to smithereens.    “You could’ve saved all of them,” he cooed in her ear, “but now,” she saw the cannons glow orange as they charged, “you doomed them all to death.” And then it fired. It took a few seconds for the beams to reach the earth, but when it did nothing but dust and smoke and flame rose up.    Y/N clenched her jaw and willed herself to not scream. She may cry and shake, but she would not give that monster the satisfaction of showing any other emotion. She could hear Cassian’s ragged breathing behind her. His friends, his home… their home was now gone.    “I will kill you with my bare hands,” he seethed.    “Too bad you won’t be alive to do so,” Kylo Ren replied so nonchalantly it was like he was making dinner plans. “But you’ll be alive to see how I take everything from your precious, how did you call her? Mi Alma?” Cassian’s chains rattled as Y/N could imagine how he was trying to pull towards her. “And when I’ve taken almost everything she has,” he once again turned towards the girl, “I’ll make you watch him die. And you won’t be able to even lift a finger.”    Right that second the same pain she’d felt before Kylo’s landing on Crait rippled through her head. Y/N tried to contain the scream, but in a matter of a second it became so intense she felt like her mind was burning from the inside out. Like listening through water she thought she heard Cassian scream, but Y/N wasn’t sure about it. Her own shrill voice overpowered all of her senses.    Kylo started with taking her power. The power to control the Force and once again that soul-shredding blade rippled in waves throughout her whole body. From the tips of her short hair to the ridges in her tippy toes, white-hot razors split her from the inside out. It scraped off one atom thin layer and then it went on and on and on. Y/N lost track of time completely. The only indication that it was passing was the rubble from Yavin4 floating through space.    Had it passed? How much had gone by? There was only non stop ringing in her ears and her hoarse voice echoing through the room. The only thing now familiar to her was pain. And when she thought it couldn’t get worse it did.    The man went inside her mind, her memories and shredded them. He looked through every crevice and nook violating the moments that only she and Cassian had shared, the intimate time where they were tangled together in kisses and pleasure. Every sweet moment and every fight that had ended up once again under the bedsheets curled up, the grips of both rebels tightening on each other to never let go, every good an bad piece he took a sledgehammer to.    He took away all the happiness that had come with racing Poe during a battle, BB-8’s worried beeps echoing through space and their comms, while Leia scolded both commanders, yet you could hear that hint of a smile as she reprimanded them.     Or laughing with Rey about Finn’s naivety, while the man clearly wanted to ask the fellow Force-sensitive girl out, yet had no clue on how to actually do that. Y/N having to step in, to give Finn a talk, that it wasn’t as scary and Rey would be happy to just stay in their quarters and do nothing if he asked her so. That, he burned up until it was ash caught in a breeze.    Kylo obliterated the warmth she felt while spending time with Chirrut and Baze, how they had discussed books together and wondered what was beyond the starts they had already explored. He mercilessly extinguished every ounce of love Leia and Han had given her, how they had become her parental figures, even scolding the girl like she was their own daughter.    The moments with Chewie and Rose, how they had played Dejarik and laughed their asses off when none wanted to do their actual jobs- he filled them with coldness and anger. Y/N’s girl talks with Jyn, their movie nights spent together talking about nothing and everything- he pulled them apart until it was just like the rubble of what once was her home.    Sweet Bodhi and their talks Y/N had shared with him under the night sky, where both had told their secrets and fears and always reassured each other that no matter what, there was someone at the other side of the galaxy who wished for their safe return. All of that was wiped away like chalk under the rainy sky.    Her sassy talks with K-2SO, that when gotten heated even Jyn and Cassian walked out of the room because the possibility of instruments flying went from zero to a hundred real quick. But even then there was never anything malicious between the droid and Y/N, he was just being protective of his captain and liked to push the girls buttons- that was frozen like ice and smashed into tiny sharp pieces that grazed her skin cutting invisible scars with the feeling of how good things used to be. All of that gone now because of her.    Y/N felt like there was nothing in her anymore. She wasn’t even a shell of a person, she was a ghost of a shell. The girl felt like if you shone a light on her, it would go right through her body as on the inside there was nothing left. Nothing of the stubborn girl madly in love with a captain that was her perfect match.    “Oh, don’t give up just now,” the amount of strength she had to put in just to flit her eyes up to Kylo almost made her throw up, “we’re just now getting to the good part.” He looked over the metal chair to where Cassian was.    Y/N tried to say “no”, whisper it, but only an intangible groan escaped the girl’s lips. “You got everyone in this situation, now you have to face the consequences,” his fingers traced the large scar once again, but before he could make one step towards Cassian she could vaguely hear people approaching.    To her, it felt like her ears were stuffed with cotton. She saw Kylo lift his hand up in what she could only imagine being a Force-choke and she wished to be in that lucky bastard’s place.    The conversation let like it lasted for hours yet it was only minutes. Y/N was so weak. She felt blood dripping down her chin from he nose. Breathing took up almost everything she had; just to pull in another breath and then exhale set her lungs on fire. Bits and pieces of the conversation flooded towards her. Pilot… Resistance… X-Wing... General… Hux… Message… Personal… Urgent… Request… Someone starts coughing… It all mushed together, yet Kylo’s breath against her neck sent up a shiver of pain.    “I will return, so you better save up some strength…”    Y/N’s head lolled forwards as Kylo stepped out of the room. She was exhausted and frankly on the verge of just giving up. Tears slipped down her cheeks at the thought of never seeing Cassian again, or never racing Poe in the midst of a battle, or trying to best Finn in a drinking game. She always won, the boy was such a lightweight.    The two white figures that she could only assume where the Stormtroopers that had come to deliver the message and now were appointed to guard them entered the room, one of them stepping next to the girl’s restrained body, crouching down by her legs.    She could feel her heartbeat slowing down as blood trickled down in a steady stream, her mind felt like it was in shambles after Kylo had taken everything from her. He’d destroyed what happy memories she’d had and now Y/N felt nothing but emptiness. The Force was calling to her, to let it all go, promising that the pain would end and she could return to where everything came from in peace and resolve.    Her eyes slipped closed and her breathing turned shallow. She pulled out one last memory, the one she’d hidden from Kylo with everything in her- the first time Cassian had kissed her. How his lips had been surprisingly soft and gentle against hers and how for the first time in her life she felt like there was nothing missing. This one, this one belonged just to her and no one else.    Y/N opened her eyes for the last time, to look at the galaxy beyond the glass, but there in front of her was Cassian. She knew he wasn’t, not really. He was still chained up to the wall behind, escape for him was nonexistent. But she was glad to see him, cause if there was any chance of looking at the man her heart belonged to if only for a second, then there was no better way of letting go of life.    And just as she slipped into the blissful darkness, her arms and legs were released only for her body to be gently picked up by strong hands and a featherlight kiss to be placed on her forehead.    “Don’t you dare leave me, mi Amor. Don't give up on us. We're so close... Fight…”

Tags (crossed out couldn’t be tagged, sorry loves, don’t know why :( ): @irreplaceable-spacexual @chunkymonky11 @paulinka97 @thechandlerbingdance @sweetimagines @redhairedoddity @bookishaficionado @gigglesforme @nerdy-98 @captainpxe @yana-yana-meow @aseasyasdeanspie @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla

A/N: am I... am I actually working and being productive???? Welp with uni things no, but meh, who cares :D

P.S. if you have any requests or wanna be tagged drop a message

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

P.S.S.S please don’t repost without credit :))

[chininirisart]

Backfire | vii: Overheard > On FF.Net and AO3

Warning/Notes: Canon divergent AU Status: In-progress (7/?) Summary: To destroy the evidences, they must join the Survey Corps and bond with Humanity’s Strongest.

As soon as the steps fade away, the three jump from their seats and Levi shoves the windows open. Jumping out into the morning air, they run the correct distance necessary to shoot their grappling hooks at the roof of the castle and launch themselves up, landing on the balls of their feet as soundlessly and softly as cats. Just as they did not know which room belongs to Erwin, they do not know which of the windows lead to his office. They split ways, each searching in a different direction, until Magnolia calls for them with her hands cupped around her mouth as she imitates the singing sounds of a robin.

The sun has risen further now and soon other soldiers will be waking up and venturing inside and outside the headquarters. She offers to stand guard and keep an eye out for anyone that might see them as the two men attach their grapples to the edge of the room and dangle on the side of the building, each one placed in a different side of the window. Pristine white curtains billow inside the room, and they adjust their feet and position to better accommodate themselves.

Levi and Furlan share a look, silently conversing, and when the door of the office opens, they turn to the window and strain their ears.

Erwin motions her inside with a sweep of his upturned palm and quietly clicks the door shut behind his back. Mikasa stands in the middle of the room facing his work desk as he rounds around the room and stops by a small table by the right wall. She has never seen someone that has as many books in their possession as him; even Hanji does not have as much and that is saying something. Their bedroom, most of the time, resembles a wreckage, with notes and textbooks and test results lying about carelessly. One has to wonder how they manage to find what they need in that chaotic room.

She watches from the corner or her eyes as he pours himself a rich smelling amber liquid in a glass and swirls it around before taking a sip, and snorts lightly, placing a hand on her hip and cocking it to the side. “Really?” He faces her with arched eyebrows and glass still on his lips. “Whiskey at six in the morning?”

“Better than coffee.” He raises his glass to her and she wrinkles her nose. “You should try it.”

“You know well that I and alcohol don’t mix.”

Erwin moves over to his chair and pulls it back, its legs lightly scrapping on the carpet before he sits down. “I’ll never forget that night, Mikasa. For that matter, neither will Mike and Hanji.” There is a slight curve to his lips as he sets his drink to the side and shuffles assorted files and documents on his hands.

“Let’s go straight to the point so you’ll spare me from reliving the memories.”

“Very well,” he dips his head in a slow nod and opens the first drawer of his desk looking for his pen. “What do you think of your new team?”

She frowns lightly at his question. “They’re just as bad as any of my previous teams.”

He hums low in his throat, as if musing over her words. She knows damn well that he is doing anything but. “What about chances of survival?”

“Too early to say, sir.” Mikasa replies honestly as she shifts her weight to her other leg and loosely crosses her arms under her bust. “I’m confident Mateo and Rael will return from the next expedition. I just started training the other three this morning.”

“So that explains the boy running around aimlessly and barely managing to keep standing.” She nods and he flips through the first document with little interest, gaze skimming over the letters printed on its white surface. “What else?”

A breeze blows in and plays with the stray lock of hair that hangs between her eyes. “I heard from Magnolia just moments ago that Elrora Lynna was crying in the shower barracks after I dismissed her.”

A brief chuckle comes from him and he swallows it down with a swig of his whiskey. “As far as I know, no one ever cried when I had to correct the new recruits.”

Mikasa keeps quiet and waits, waits because she knows she is there for a reason and her instincts tell her that she unknowingly stirred the conversation in the direction he wanted to go. He is silent as he reads through the first paragraphs and she allows herself to watch the sky from where she stands, colors washing away and slowly dissipating as the sun crawls higher and higher over the line of the horizon.

When she spots the slightest of shifts of his shoulders, her gaze snaps back to him and focus on his form. Just a second later, he speaks. “It’s about Levi and his friends.”

“I figured as much.” It is understandable and, in all honesty, predictable. Magnolia is always shadowing her steps in her free time because she was ordered to, and from all of the other squads and team leaders, she is the one that has interacted with Levi and Furlan the most.

Erwin signs his name at the bottom of the last page and places the file aside, the first of many that will pile up on the corner of his desk. “Flagon’s opinion is biased because he was against adding them to the Corps since the beginning, so I want to hear it from you.” His eyes flicker up to hers and they hold together before he glances back down at the next document. “What are they like?”

“Despite what everyone thinks because of their origins,” she starts slowly, letting her gaze trace over the many books on the shelf to her left. “They are actually civil. Would you believe that?” He huffs in amusement at her sarcastic remark and reaches over for his glass; that is her cue to keep talking. “I understand other soldiers feel threatened because they didn’t go under training to be accepted in the Corps, but they taught themselves how to use the vertical maneuvering equipment. That should count for something.”

“We can’t treat them as if they’re special because of that, Mikasa.”

“Well, we can’t treat them differently either, Erwin.”

He looks up, really looks up at her at the sound of his first name, and she pinches her eyes closed as her mouth sucks in a lungful of oxygen. She misses the frown that creases his forehead. “Care to explain?”

Mikasa exhales through her nose and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear before disclosing, her fingertips rubbing at the inner corner of her eyes, a sign that she is getting worked up. “It’s just... Their skills are a great addition to the Corps, though they need to be disciplined. While Magnolia and Church can be easy to work with, Levi isn’t a bundle of rainbow and sunshine and Flagon is far too, as you said, biased to try and not let his personal feelings get in the way.” She licks her lips idly, gaze flitting about the room. “His judgement is getting clouded and this will create more conflicts between the three of them and his team, and whatever comes out of this can affect the Corps as a whole, sir.”

“Mikasa, are you–”

“Can I just add that Dimitri Alton called Levi a street rat this morning in his face? I was there; he insulted him in front of me.”

“Calm down, Ackerman.”  

She lets out a huff and cups her flushed cheeks, forcing air into her body. Dealing with some petulant cadets is far easier and more bearable when they are not throwing insults left and right.  Erwin is looking at her with a concerned flicker in his blue irises, although his expression remains pretty much the same. His pen and paperwork lie forgotten before him, as does his glass of whiskey.

“Sit down.” She shakes her head no, but grips the chair before her and leans most of her weight on it as her head hangs down, dark locks obscuring her face from view. Once her shoulders have settled in a smaller pace and she is not gasping for air anymore, he speaks in his rarely used comforting voice. “I know how you feel about name calling, I know. I’ve seen a lot of broken noses and black eyes in the past seven years since you joined the Corps.” That makes her click her tongue against the back of her teeth and she knows that he knows there is a ghost of a smile on her face. “Mike says you have the best uppercut in the entire Military.”

A weak chuckle escapes her lips and her head lifts from its bowed position. “I might as well have.”

A smile flickers across his features. “I don’t doubt it, but it was because of it that you got stuck with me for some years.”

“They were a hell of a couple of years, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I don’t, even though I should.” He rubs his chin as he averts his eyes for a moment, pondering over it for a brief second. “The difference is that they can’t go punching people around whenever they’re offended or confronted about something. You can’t also blame Flagon and his team, or the rest of the corps, alone, Mikasa. You know and you’ve seen firsthand in the underground that they can be very prideful. Church may jump in once or twice to stop a fight, but Levi and Isabel don’t try much to hold back when things are thrown their ways.”

Mikasa tilts her head away from him, dark eyes downcast as she examines the wood floorboards beneath her booted feet. Not a word leaves her mouth in that moment, choosing instead to keep quiet and wait for whatever he will say when he makes up his mind. In the meantime, she can only wish that the world were a little less cruel than it is.

His chair creaks softly as he leans back on his seat with a quiet sigh. “I trust that you won’t intervene with Flagon’s ways, Mikasa. They’re part of his squad and your hands are already full.”

Her shoulders heave with a sigh and she dips her head. “Yes, sir.”

“Give it time. It’s just the dawn of the second day. There are many days ahead of us and many things can happen in the meantime.” His fingertips glide along his hairline as he stops for a breath, elbow firmly planted on the mahogany desk before him. “They interacted with his squad for only one afternoon, that’s not enough time to determine how this is going to happen. You’re aware that nothing is set on stone. I’m sure Magnolia and Ciela will get along fine after some time; they both like horses, after all.”

Erwin rearranges the sheets of paper on his desk idly as he continues. “And about personal feelings, you’re one to talk. You have always sided with the ones you identify with the most, even if it meant going against orders.”

A fleeting grin takes over her features and she rearranges the scarf around her neck. Noticing that his eyes trace over the movements of her hands, she pats the place over her sternum and gives him a reassuring nod. A robin sings near the windows of his office, the music clear to their ears. Instinctively, her gaze flickers to the window, but no bird is seen in the sky.

When Mikasa returns her glance to his face, she frowns at the flicker of something that flashes for a split second in his blue pools. “Sir? Is everything alright?”

Focus returns to his eyes and he blinks once. “The birds are out already.” Noticing the confused look she wears on her face, Erwin brushes it away with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The expedition will happen in three weeks as opposed to the five-week it was before.” He hooks a finger around the corner of the page and turns it. “Make sure your team is prepared by then.”

“Right,” she replies slowly, and slips back into an all-professional persona. “How are preparations for your promotion?”

“They are well.” He sips his drink once again, already back in work mode. “Commander Shadis says he will pass down his position to me after the expedition. He wants to participate in this one as a commander, still.”

“That’s a nice farewell gift.” She hums in acknowledgement. “I’ll be taking my leave, then, sir.”

His head nods absentmindedly, attention now completely focused on the sheets before him.

The call from Isabel jerks them into action, feet kicking against the brick to gain some boost so they can climb back up to the roof with more ease. A couple of soldiers surface from the vegetation, hands pressing down on wrinkles in their shirt and brushing away stray leaves from their hair. Magnolia presses a closed fist to her mouth so she will not laugh, but the things her friends eavesdropped demand more attention than any amusing sight of a silly couple going against the no fraternization rules.

She backs two feet away when they land, knees bending to absorb most of the impact. Levi flexes his fingers as Furlan glimpses over the edge of the roof at the window and ground below, making sure that no one in the office truly saw them, and turns to his friends with slight creases on his forehead.

“Well?” The shorter man ignores her question and instead starts to walk away, feet light and careful as he steps on the blue roof tiles. “What did they say?” She demands in a harsh whisper, her thin eyebrows knitting together in the middle.

Furlan meets her exigent eyes that burn in green flames with his own, calm light grey and slightly troubled. “They said nothing that’s important.” Comes Levi’s voice from behind her back. “It was just useless chit chat that won’t help us at all. We wasted our time here.”

The taller man holds his breath for a second and lets it out in a rush, running his fingers through his tousled hair. “That’s right. All they talked about was her team and their chances of survival outside the walls.”

“But,” she frowns up at him, dusting the back of her pants before making to follow Levi. “But why would he call her just to talk about this?”

Light grey and blue meet for a moment, exchanging silent words. With a shrug, Furlan tries to act as nonchalant as he can. “Who knows? Weirdos come in packs. You didn’t really think only her team was strange, did you?”

Isabel snorts and grins at him. “Guess you’re right!”

They fall into silence, each lost in their own minds. It is an unexpected turn of events. When they lived in the slums, they only cared for each other and that care stretched to those that paired up with them to complete a task or another, there never was any person that would frequently check on them. Ackerman’s words could be seen simply as a report from a subordinate to a squad leader, could be seen simply as her complimenting their skills and trying to prevent a misunderstanding or a fight from happening. After all, as someone that has to discipline those that do not follow orders, it is in her nature to keep an eye out for any possible animosity that might arise.

However, there was the barest of hints of concern in her voice that was further supported by Erwin’s claim that she has the habit of siding with those she identifies the most. Isabel did not need to know about it; it has only been a couple of hours and she is already eager to see Ackerman in action. Levi dares say that she is starting to look up to her. Why he does not know; perhaps she saw something in the soldier when she had to follow her everywhere for the past day.

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

The Fire After the War, Chapter 7

Here it is, after such a wait.  Now it's Utena's turn.

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4670804/chapters/25987323

Chapter 7: 101 Dalmatians

A week passed from Thanksgiving, and December rode in on its usual bitter breeze.  Utena lifted her gloved hands to her mouth and blew on them as she struggled against a strong headwind on the way back to the apartment.  It wasn't a long walk, but the wind and the cold made it seem eternal, not to mention the deep growls her stomach was making.  The firefighter found herself inadvertently mulling over what had transpired at her parents' house the other day.  It wasn't a happy train of thought, but it had been nagging at her since the drive back, demanding her attention.

Everything had seemed to go well at the time.  Anthy was winning over everyone in Utena's family and absolutely cunt-punting anyone that tried to act out of line.  Watching it had made Utena very proud and viciously pleased.  Dinner went very well, and even the awkward questions about Akio didn't seem to shake Anthy.  Getting chewed out by her mother afterward hadn't been fun, but Utena's reasoning was sound and nothing would convince her otherwise.  She had hoped to steer away any conversation that veered too close to the subject, but when Uncle Petyr started asking about Ohtori directly, she couldn't find a way to subtly change the subject.  Thus, she was left having to watch Anthy smoothly handle everything, all while feeling a knot of dread in her stomach as things moved further and further out of her control.  She'd felt guilty at the time, despite Anthy's insistence that it hadn't been an issue.  Now, in retrospect, she wondered just how sincere Anthy had been in her reassurances.

The outburst---Utena didn't like that word; it felt wrong for the situation---was, of course, completely unexpected.  The accusations---that wasn't the right word either---the admission of jealousy, and then the personal feelings that Anthy had revealed with such difficulty; they haunted Utena's mind as she turned onto the next block.

Danny made Anthy jealous, Danny of all people.  Anthy was jealous because she was afraid.  Utena was sure of that, whether it was really because of Danny or not.  Anthy was afraid, and she was reacting badly to it.  Utena counted a hundred possible reasons why, and too many fit with what Anthy revealed about herself and her past.  Anthy was scared of losing her to someone else.  A ridiculous fear, but Utena supposed she could understand where it came from.  Anthy had said that nothing belonged to her before Utena, and the other woman believed it.

She felt an annoying stinging in her eyes when she thought of the former Rose Bride and her deprived life, existing with nothing to her name, not even enough to hold her to the physical world in some instances.  Like a ghost.  Transient, Utena thought proudly when she remembered the word.  It had been on an old word-of-the-day calendar she'd had years ago.

No longer the Rose Bride, she pondered sadly.  That should mean something beyond existing as more than a phantom.  Anthy needed something more, something else to tie her to her life.  Yet, at the same time, Anthy's freedom was very new after god knows how many years of imprisonment.  She was clearly still adjusting to her new situation, with more success in certain areas than others.  Utena was hesitant to make real suggestions.  Yes, she encouraged Anthy to go outside, explore, and grow the scope of her world, but she was scared to propose any specific course of action.  Who could say what might tear up an old wound, turn a hairline fracture into a shattered bone, or infect a healing burn?  One wrong step could send Anthy falling, maybe beyond the point that she could ever recover again.  Utena shuddered at the thought.  Still, they wouldn't make any progress at all if they just sat around, too afraid to try anything.  "What a conundrum," she murmured, remembering another word from that calendar.

Her worried musings carried her the rest of the way back to her apartment.  She breathed a sigh of relief when she entered the warm lobby, crossing to the rickety old elevator and pressing the button for her floor.  Creaking and shuddering, it carried her upwards as she tried to cheer up, at least on the surface.

She walked in to the apartment to find Anthy mulling over newspapers at the kitchen table.  She had a pen out and was circling certain parts.  Utena realized that it was the ad section.

"Are you looking at jobs?" She asked as she pulled out the open chair and sat down.  She had to lift up her arm to let Chu Chu through with a pen of his own.

"Yes…" Anthy said slowly as she scanned a column.  "I heard that they offer jobs in newspapers these days, so I thought I might look at them."  She glanced up briefly and then went back to scanning.  "I thought I might take you up on your challenge."

"Did I issue a challenge?"  Utena didn't remember anything like that.  Was she talking about that night?

"Yes," Anthy confirmed.  She sat back.  "You said I should try to get out more.  I thought I just might."

Hmm.  Utena picked up a paper.  "Well, what have you been looking at?"  She asked cautiously.

"There are so many," Anthy said, sounding genuinely surprised.  There was wonder in her voice.  Utena couldn't say she had heard that before.  How would she react if she knew how many jobs were posted online?  "But I was thinking about putting in an application to that flower shop down the street.  It says here that they're looking for help."  She pointed to the passage in question.  The ink circle around that was especially thick.  "I was also considering this grocery store.  They say they offer $7.25 an hour.  Sounded promising…"

Utena's brow furrowed, and rightly so, but Anthy continued on without noticing.  It wasn't until Utena gently took the newspaper from her and commandeered Chu Chu's pen that her girlfriend quieted.  Utena used the pen and put an X over the grocery store ad as well as any other ads that advertised $7.25 an hour.

"What are you doing?" Anthy asked, and she sounded mildly affronted.  Utena looked up at her.  She didn't want to burst her bubble, especially when the older woman sounded so active and even excited, but she had to make her aware of this if nothing else.

"Babe, do you know what minimum wage is?"

"Minimum wage?"  Utena's prediction was correct.  Anthy looked confused.  She was innocent in this, still unaware of many inner workings of the mundane, even after nine years.

Utena sighed.  "Minimum wage is the lowest legal wage an employer can offer an employee.  It's the lowest of the low in this country.  It's almost not enough to live on."

"So what… are you saying?" Anthy asked.

"I'm saying that you shouldn't waste your time with jobs like that when there are better options."  Utena paused.  "You could also wait.  There's no need to jump in so quickly.  We're not rich but we won't be out on the street any time soon."

"What are you saying?"  That again.  How to answer…

"Just that, you don't need to worry about things here, if you are.  You can just relax if you want.  Take it slow, you know?"

"Are you saying I shouldn't look for a job?"  Uh oh, it was a trap.  Utena had never been very good at avoiding those.  Let's see if she could get out of this one.  The firefighter turned back to her, frowning.  Anthy was watching her carefully, showing nothing, but no doubt cataloguing every word and reaction.  Once upon a time, Utena wouldn't have noticed cues like that, but she wasn't an oblivious teenager anymore.

"No," she said firmly.  "I'm saying that you should be careful not to do too much too soon.  You're strong, Anthy, but everyone has their limits.  They can be difficult to change.  I don't want to see you crash and burn."

"Crash and burn?"

"It's an expression.  Look, jobs are good, but they're tough.  Jobs like these, where you have to deal with and talk to people every day, they can be difficult.  You admitted yourself that you have a problem with crowds.  Jobs like these are crowds all the time.  If you're still having problems with that, jumping into a job like this honestly isn't going to help you.  It might actually make it worse."  Utena ran a hand through her hair.  "It's good to do things slowly every once and a while.  And don't say 'I told you so', because I already know."

"Baby steps.  Isn't that what you said?"  Anthy was still watching her, waiting to see if she would say something stupid and ruin this or maybe make it through cleanly after all.

"That's right," Utena said, standing resolved.  Her expression softened.  "I want you to be able to do everything you've ever wanted.  I'll do what's in my power to get you there.  But there is something to be said for caution, acting responsibly."  She smiled shyly.  "I know that's a strange thing to hear from me.  I know you want to tell me to take my own advice; I can see it in your eyes.  I think that this must be in some part because of what happened last week, and I just want you to take things at a good pace."

Anthy sat back, and she seemed to be mulling over something.  She glanced down at the table and then to the pen still resting in her hand.  Utena waited, feeling a little strange just standing there.  It seemed like several minutes had passed before Anthy finally looked up at her; it couldn't have been, surely, but it felt that way.

"So what would you suggest?" Anthy asked slowly.

Utena let out a breath through her nose, thinking quickly and carefully.  When the idea came to her, she snapped her fingers.  "I might know a good place for you to apply," she said.  "I gotta take a walk.  I'll be back in a bit."

"Should I order something for us?" Anthy asked as she watched her girlfriend grab her coat.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Utena said as she tied her shoes.  "I shouldn't be gone too long.  30 minutes tops.  You should give some thought to your resume while I'm out." 

She was halfway out the door when she heard Anthy mutter, "Resume?"

Oh boy.

  Four days later, Anthy was standing in front the Fair Friends Animal Clinic.  She was dressed in a pretty pink suit and jacket that Utena had never seen before.  Her hair was up in a ponytail; at least as much as a single hair tie could bind such a powerful mane.  She was wearing the cute little beret she had worn on the day they had first found each other again.  She wore white shoes that, amazingly, miraculously, managed not to get dirty at all on the walk down here.  Probably magic, Utena thought.  She looked up to watch Anthy's face.  She might not even know she's doing it.

Anthy's expression was one of unadulterated apprehension, bordering on fear.  Her posture was tense and she was standing very still.  She was clutching a manila folder to her chest.  It held her resume, a hastily constructed thing that they had spent a full evening poring over.  The paper didn't look too bad, all things considered, but Utena was concerned about the amount of information Anthy seemed to make up out of the blue.  She was also worried that the paper would horribly deform if her girlfriend held it to her body any tighter.

"Anthy," Utena said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.  "What is it?"

Anthy looked down at the street, and her hands were shaking.  "You were right," she murmured, almost too softly for Utena to catch.  "I'm not ready for this yet."  Anthy's self-defeating habit was becoming increasingly noticeable.

Utena stepped in front of her and lifted up Anthy's chin.  Utena smiled reassuringly.  "Crowds are no good, I know.  They might not be for some time yet.  But fortunately, this job doesn't handle crowds.  Of people anyway."  She mimicked exaggerated breathing motions.  "Take a deep breath.  You're going to be great.  Look," she said, pointing to the window of the clinic and into the clinic itself.  "There's a grand total of six people in that waiting room, and that's it.  And look at those dogs."  Utena wrapped an arm around Anthy's shoulders and smiled brightly.  "Look at that big blonde one.  Isn't she beautiful?  Or, ooo, look at that little guy in the cage.  He must be riled up about something cuz he's barking like crazy.  Heh, I feel kind of embarrassed for his owner.  And there's---" She was cut off when she heard a soft, shaky laugh.

Anthy was laughing, leaning against Utena.  The sound was a little breathless and it stuttered, matching the shaking in the older woman's shoulders.  Utena waited, lowering her hand.

The woman next to her carefully dabbed tears out of the corner of her eyes and looked up with a smile.  "Thank you," she said turning to embrace Utena fully.  The firefighter returned it, still trying not to squish the documents in between them.

"You're going to do great, babe," Utena repeated encouragingly.  "Just wow them like you do everyone else.  It's natural for you."

"Thank you, darling."  Visibly gathering herself, Anthy smiled at her girlfriend before turning back to the door of the clinic.  "I guess I'll be done in half an hour.  That's how long these take, right?"

"On average, yeah.  I'll get us something to eat while you're in there.  Gilardi's okay?"

"Yes, that will be fine."

"Okay, I'll see you in a little bit."  One last grin, tinged with nerves, and then Anthy practically marched up to the glass door and went inside.  Utena stayed standing on the sidewalk for another second or two, and then she began her walk down to the restaurant.

The delicious smell of sandwiches, a little bickering with George, and enjoying the heat of the room left her feeling more cheerful.  She waited to order the food until it was closer to time and when it came out she grabbed the bag and strolled out of the shop.  Arriving at the clinic again, she leaned against a parking meter and checked her watch as she thought over what was going on.

She chose the clinic because it was the least of many evils.  Anthy didn't like people, but she loved animals.  She knew how to take care of animals, and Utena had never seen her happier at Ohtori than when she was with her unusual pets.  Come to think of it, all she ever had were unusual pets.  Weird even.  Fitting, she thought, and smiled.  Weird pets for a weird girl.

Who could say if this kind of job would suit Anthy in the slightest?  The Rose Bride would have put up with anything, did put up with anything, but what could Anthy handle?  Utena sighed, checking her watch a second time.  She supposed they would just have to wait and see.

  Anthy emerged from the clinic fifteen minutes later, and Utena pushed off the parking meter where she had been waiting.  She watched her girlfriend's face carefully as she approached her.  Anthy noticed, and to Utena's surprise, she started to laugh.  The dark woman's free hand hovered over her mouth as she laughed openly.  Utena was relieved, and she smiled as she wrapped her arms around Anthy.

"What're you giggling about, missy?" She said, in a funny accent that made Anthy laugh harder into her shoulder.  People looked their way oddly, but Utena ignored them.  Anthy pulled back and kissed her on the cheek.

"Your face," she chuckled.  "Were you worried for me, Utena?"

The firefighter shrugged.  "Not too much.  Just wanted to know you were okay."  She kissed Anthy's temple, eliciting a peaceful sigh from the witch.

"Thank you for your concern, my love.  But you were right.  It went swimmingly.  I feel… good."

"Glad to hear it.  Hopefully, you'll hear back from them soon.  Meantime, you still hungry?"

  Anthy got the job.  It didn't surprise Utena in the slightest, of course, but she was surprised at just how quick the call back was.  She supposed Anthy, in her special way, made a better impression than most.

She started the following Monday, walking with a barely perceptible bounce in her step that made Utena smile.  Anthy was excited, nervous yet happy, and seeing it was so new and wonderful that Utena couldn't help but bounce too.  Her worries had been replaced with cautious optimism, knowing that Anthy would thrive in an environment with more animals than people.  Anthy still wasn't quite comfortable walking outside alone, so Utena accompanied her on her own way to work.  When they arrived at the clinic, Anthy turned around to face Utena and took a careful breath.

Utena smiled encouragingly and rubbed her shoulders.  "Are you ready?" She asked.

Anthy exhaled and nodded.  "Yes."

"Good," Utena said, withdrawing her hands and putting them in her pockets.  "If you get some time during your lunch break or something, throw a phone call my way.  Let me know how the day is going."

"Of course, darling," Anthy said.  After pecking Utena once on the cheek, she turned and walked into the clinic.  Utena stood silently for a moment, staring at the door as it slowly closed, before she too turned to continue her way to the firehouse a few blocks down the street.

She pushed through the front door and immediately went over to the dispatch desk, where an older woman sat typing briskly on a keyboard.  Her hair was dyed bright orange to hide the gray underneath and she wore exquisite make-up to cover up the little wrinkles that lined her face.

"Morning, Mary Ellen," Utena greeted, leaning against the wall next to the desk.

"Oh, good morning, baby girl!" Mary Ellen responded enthusiastically.  Her voice was as rough as the gravel the team tracked in every time they came back from a call.  Whenever someone pointed out the irony of her career choice, Mary Ellen would always say "Smoking is like a first husband: complete trash but hard to throw out."  Utena thought it made her uniquely qualified for her position as the best damn dispatcher in the county.  "Didya have a good Thanksgiving, sweetie?"

Utena shrugged.  "As good as ever.  What about you?  Were you able to see your grandkids?"

"Oh now that's a story!" Mary Ellen said with a laugh.  "But you've got no time for that now.  Come visit me during lunch.  I'll talk your ear off!"

Utena snickered as she was waved off.  She walked out of the dispatch office and down the main hallway of the station to where the common area was.  She could already see some of her team sitting in the set of couches and armchairs, watching footage from yesterday's rounds on a big flat screen.  They looked around when she made noise by pulling out a chair from the lunch table to watch.

"Hey, girl," greeted Henry as he reached one burly arm back to high five her.  Next to him was David, who turned around to fist-bump her in way of greeting.  In the armchair to the right of the screen sat Antonia, the only other female fighter at their station.  Antonia was much like Utena herself, a tall and muscular woman with flowing black hair and golden dark skin denoting her strong Italian heritage.

"You're rolling in a little late this morning, ain't ya?" Antonia commented.

Utena shrugged.  "Had to see my girlfriend off to her new job.  She's still getting used to the city."  That was putting it mildly.  Utena turned to face the last member of the team present in the room.  "Morning, Ricardo," she said, watching the man in the other armchair.

"Morning," he said without looking away from the television screen.  No one could kick him for his tone choice, but it was obvious to anyone with ears that he was trying to ignore her.  David certainly noticed, and he reached back to give Utena a sympathetic thunk on the back.

Utena sighed softly, trying not to let frustration poison her mood.  Ricardo was her ex.  Okay, well, not her "ex" exactly.  They were never even close to being an item, whatever he may have thought.  He was the first part of the double fling Utena had had last summer.  They had shared a single night together, both of them drunk and making poor decisions in a dive bar.  She regretted it dearly, especially when he seemed to take it as cue to ask her out.  She didn't remember much of that night, but she thought she had told him nothing else could happen.  In any case, it was far from her finest moment, and Utena worried over how long the ice between them would last.  Nothing would change today, though, so she tried to put it aside.

The morning progressed sluggishly, with no calls coming in.  Utena had backed out of playing cards with David, instead sitting alone in one of the armchairs, nursing a cup of coffee.  She didn't much care for coffee, but had learned to put up with it when she found she couldn’t stomach tea after waking up in the hospital.  It took several years for her to overcome that strange aversion, and by then she'd been drinking coffee too long to pull away from it.  Tea was still unbearable in summer, which didn't help anything.

She let out a slow, quiet breath.  Summer.  She hated it, and that never failed to make her sad.  She didn't remember much of her birth parents anymore, nothing more than half-imagined flashes and approximations, but she remembered that she used to love summer.  The sun, the heat, vacations, and all that.  But ever since Ohtori, summer was something to be dreaded, a weighty and lingering curse, unavoidable and unforgiving.  Utena never felt more alone nor more hopeless than when she could feel the heat in the air and look up into a bright blue sky.

She'd heard of seasonal depression, sure, everyone had, but all of those stories were about winter; scientists talking about vitamin deficiencies and the psychological impact of colder temperatures and less daylight.  Can't relate, she thought with bitter humor.  Since Ohtori, she preferred the cold.  Since Ohtori, she preferred the dark.

The first episode hit hard and fast with the end of May nine years ago.  She had been sent to her first foster home, and though most of her memories were hazy she clearly recalled the desolation she felt in every sultry afternoon, the sharp-edged emptiness that she could not explain to anyone, least of all herself.  When her mood had begun to improve with the first morning frost, she had rejoiced, thinking the trouble over, only for the next May to drag her back down mercilessly.  Each subsequent summer was worse than the last without fail, as her memories returned and the feeling of her loss intensified.  Things came to a head this past summer before she ran into Ricardo by chance while getting smashed.  Maybe the alcohol was ultimately to blame, but as they drank and talked and fucked, he made her forget her jagged past, her shattered heart, and the rope she had bought from the hardware store just hours earlier.  Utena had never told Ricardo exactly what he did for her that night.  She wasn't certain how he would respond to such a confession, so she kept it to herself.

Her coffee was getting cold.  She grimaced and got up to toss it out.  She made a mental note to ask Mary Ellen to buy some tea.  She noticed it was lunchtime when she checked her watch, and went to grab the food she had packed.  Her phone rang just as she was sitting down at the table.  "Hey, babe," she greeted Anthy as her free hand unwrapped her meal.

"Hello, darling."  Anthy's lovely voice brought speedy relief to Utena, as it always did.  "How are things at the station?"

"Eh, boring, no action yet today.  But what about you?  Save any fluffy lives yet?" She joked.

Over the line, Anthy giggled.  "Nothing so dramatic, just simple appointments."

"Dogs?  Cats?  Unicorns?"  Utena smiled widely as Anthy laughed again.

"If someone brings in a unicorn, you'll be the first to know.  Two cats and three dogs.  Someone had a beautiful python, but I wasn't able to help with that one."

"Figures you'd be more interested in the unusual pet," Utena teased.

"Oh the dogs and cats were lovely too," Anthy said.  "But it's been a busy morning.  Did you remember to eat?"

"Eating right now, babe.  You?"

"Yes.  I only have an hour to eat.  Is that common in this world?"

"Kind of, yeah.  Most places give you 45 minutes to an hour."

"How quaintly arbitrary," Anthy commented.

Utena chuckled.  "Probably don't let your boss hear you say that, just to be safe.  Speaking of, how are your coworkers?  Things going well?"

"As far as introductions go, yes.  They seem… amiable."  There was a pause, and Utena could picture Anthy sitting at a table with her phone and her salad and that trademark pensive expression on her face.

"Well, that's good to hear.  Do you have to get back to work soon?" She asked after peeking at her watch.

"In a moment," Anthy said.  "What shall we do tonight, my love?"

Utena hummed thoughtfully.  "You ever seen 101 Dalmatians?"

"That's an oddly specific number of Dalmatians to see tog---"

"No, no, babe! The movie, 101 Dalmatians," Utena clarified with a laugh.

"Oh.  Then no, darling, I haven't."

"That's our plan for the evening," Utena said, grinning.

"Very well, Utena.  I… look forward to it.  But I should get back to my duties.  Be safe, my love."

"You too, Anthy.  Watch out for Jack Russell Terriers.  I hear they like to bite.  Love you."

"I love you too.  See you soon!"

"Bye," Utena said before she hung up.  One conversation with Anthy, and just like that her day was good again.  She hoped that never changed.  Anthy's voice was like a brisk hand batting away the sadness and frustrations bothering Utena like insects, letting her finish her food in peace.  There still hadn't been any calls for their team, so Utena took a little extra time before she went to work on the trucks.

The thought of summer still lingered.  Utena wondered what might happen next summer, now that Anthy was here at her side.  It was her grief that dragged her down so deep into the abyss, her pain over losing Anthy and her self-loathing over her many failures.  The guilt, not unlike a million swords, was pervasive and ever-present.  But Anthy was here now.  Anthy was here, safe, free, and she didn't blame Utena for what had happened.  Amazing, really, that Anthy could be so forgiving, dismissive even, of her mistakes.  Utena did not agree, but it was hard to be angry about the warmth and peace forgiveness brought.

Summer was a long ways off, but for the first time in a decade, Utena felt herself looking forward to it.  Tentatively, with extreme caution, but with surging hope as well.  If she had Anthy, she could survive it.  If she had Anthy, she could survive anything.  She was sure of that.

Suddenly the bells in the station were ringing, and she jumped to her feet.  She strode to the suit-up station and threw on her gear before running out to the trucks.  Mary Ellen told them the address over the radio as they peeled out from the garage.  Utena settled into her working groove, becoming alert and focused, but not before she had a cheerful thought about 101 Dalmatians.

[astersandstuffs]

we’ve passed the end (so we chase forever)

“Hey, Iwa-chan, what do you think of living forever?

“What, like if you don’t find your soulmate?”

“Well, how else can we live forever?”

On choosing to live forever.

@iwaoiweek2017 -  (immortality)  1  ☆  2  ☆  3  ☆  4  ☆  5  ☆  6  ☆  7

thanks to @sawamura-daichis-thighs for beta’ing this!

[ao3]

“Hey, Iwa-chan, what do you think of living forever?”

This is when Tooru chooses to ask such a question—the start of high school, the two of them donned in Aoba Johsai’s blue and white and getting ready for their first practice, and as Hajime’s copying the knot on his right shoe to his left. In turn, he doesn’t look away from the task.

“What, like if you don’t find your soulmate?”

“Well, how else can we live forever?”

We, huh. Hajime wonders if Tooru thinks of forever in the context of them, and chides himself for such pointless observations. Because he might’ve been observing this best friend of his since forever (and the other boy, the same), but it doesn’t make him immune to the dangerous waters of wishful thinking.

“Humans are crazy shits,” Hajime says. He secures the shoelaces with a final twist, goes to stand with some sort of conviction, and starts his warm-up. A light kick with the toe of his shoe prods Tooru out of his crouch from where he’s been staring intently at Hajime, urging him to do the same, and Hajime just trudges past the exclaimed how rude! “We’ll figure something out.”

“Hmm.” Arms raised high and skyward, Tooru gives a pleased sound at the stretch. Hajime tears his gaze away from the line of skin exposed by the lifted shirt. “We haven’t come up with the one-hundred percent scientific explanation for soulmates.”

“Well,” Hajime says, “it’s soulmate, after all. Something unquantifiable. Why’re you asking this now, anyway?”

There’s volleyball to play, new techniques to learn and teammates to know, but throwing quips back and forth has become instinctive when they’ve been doing it with each other ever since they could babble without words.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Finding true love is supposed to be like happily ever after, like fairy tales, but instead it’s what triggers us to age and die.”

This, too; when Tooru runs and jumps, from topics of discussion to a race down the road, the run uphill, Hajime just catches up. He dodges questions and takes pleasure in letting Hajime connect the clues, the scattered slips. But perhaps that’s because Hajime is the only one who can.

“There’s no push to do stuff together when you have all the time you don’t need, when you have forever together. It’s like how we eat because we’ll get hungry later.”

Tooru stares at him, unblinking, and it sort of pisses Hajime off because it’s the kind he does at Ushiwaka when he says things along the lines of choosing the wrong path and infertile soil. “Wow,” Tooru mutters, all pretend-baffled, and gives up a snort—awkward sounding and certainly not pretty and why the hell does it make Hajime want to smile—hiding it behind a loose fist. “Iwa-chan, I know you’re stupid, but comparing that to being hungry is a new low.”

The coach calling them for a line up is the only thing that saves him from Hajime’s wrath. Still, Oikawa Tooru has picked up another obsession, this time on the subject of forever more than soulmate itself, and he’s never one to do things half-way.

On the walk home from school—“Would it be like dreaming?”

“What?”

“The forever thing.”

“Oh, it’s a thing now?”

In the middle of the match—tugging on Hajime’s sweat-saturated jersey and gesturing him to lean close, only to whisper, “Would it be like counting years?” instead of some morally questionable strategy to crush the opposite team.

During a lab experiment—“Would it be traveling all over the world, and there are always new places to visit and things to discover?” he asks, past the girls murmuring behind their backs, as he nudges a pair of glasses to settle back on the bridge of his nose.

“Why do you care?” Hajime takes the query ahead of Tooru one day. It’s the first night of summer training camp in Tokyo, and a glance at the clock above the gym’s doors tells him it’s 10PM. They’re a sweaty mess sprawled on the floor side by side, all growing pains and aches from the extended practice, just between the two of them once the others whistled at their stamina and bid farewell, their senpai with a “don’t push too hard, first-years!”—because of course a powerhouse’s training regime isn’t enough for Tooru, and of course Hajime wants to improve awfully the same, if slightly more rational about expectations and the likes.

So, Hajime asks again, Why do you care? About forever. About what having forever feels like, when he’s been living like he’s running out of time. When he’s restless and terrifyingly driven at every practice, and faces official matches like trouncing battlegrounds, the outcomes scars to carry by something permanent.

“Why don’t you care, Iwa-chan?”

—and for all their differences, Hajime can’t say he isn’t the same, either, and perhaps that’s why he doesn’t give much thought on this. I live my life, and I set the pace. But he also knows there’s a certain limit to it, even if it doesn’t entirely stop him from trying to break through. Tooru eschews the boundaries he doesn’t set himself, and Hajime’s there to remind him of it, with a hit upside the head and wise words and bodily dragging him out of whatever he’s got himself into. Just like when Tooru lends a hand on Hajime’s back for the push, or to smack him to his senses, or just to linger there. I’m here if you want to fall. Because I won’t let you.

“—there are seven point five billion people in the world,” Tooru continues, sight on the ceiling like he’s watching ghosts dance beneath the limelight of cheap fluorescents. “What are the chances of finding your soulmate?”—and, oh. They’re talking about that, too.

“…Actually, I remember from some documentary that it’s quite high.”

“Yes!” Tooru gripes. “Yes, I know. Why, though? There’s so little time for everything—imagine if we can be on the Olympic team forever.”

“You truly have nothing but volleyball in your head,” Hajime mutters. We. Still us. “But”—he tips his chin up, gazes straight at the ceiling lights, and pretends the sting of it is the sun of a summer noon—“it’ll be somewhat lonely. Our families and friends aren’t forever.”

Quiet looms over the next moment. Cicadas sing through the barred window, the gym’s open doors, light from the spaces inside spilling over the road in front. Hajime closes his eyes, the cicadas’ hum a memory from home.

“Ne, Iwa-chan,” Tooru calls with a voice much too small for his usual flair, and Hajime, with eyes closed, encompassed in darkness, tries to catch every single lilt. “If we’re still lonely souls by the time we’re thirty, let’s stay together.”

“Aren’t we already doing that? You’ve always been clingy and you probably won’t ever let me have peace.” And I can’t leave you, anyway. “Getting a girlfriend or married shouldn’t change anything.”

“No, I mean together, forever,” Tooru says, not quite above a whisper.

Hajime opens his eyes, craning his head to the side, but Tooru has his face turned away from him, and he can only speculate if the pink flush down his neck is from physical or mental exertion. “Dunno.” He shrugs. “You’ll do stupid things and I might snap and kill you before we’re thirty.”

“Such a brute answer!”

“It’s not as bad as it might be, though,” Hajime muses, and this might be wishful thinking worth realizing. “Us staying together for that long.”

“Staying, huh. So. Nothing’s gonna change?”

This is when Hajime breathes in, deep and expanding, drowning the lungs with the scent of Salonpas and sweat, summer breeze and a hint of burned rubber soles, and goes to stand up. His footfalls echo in the hush of such a spacious place, yet Tooru doesn’t turn to look, as if he knows, anyway, when Hajime settles down closer beside him. Hajime simply reaches out like always, running his fingers through a tousled mess of brown hair.

“Only if you want to.

“Oikawa, say something.

“Shittykawa. Will you at least look at me.

“If I wrestle you over, am I gonna find you crying and dripping snot all over?

“This gym isn’t ours, you know, so don’t contaminate it with your nasal mucus.”

Tooru snorts, all stuffy nose and held breaths, and lays the back of a wrist over his eyes. Hajime spots the wobbly line of his mouth, a bottom lip gnawed white in some failed attempt at keeping silent; Tooru’s always been loud in everything he does, anyway, and perhaps that’s why he cries all ugly and bawling.

“Stupid Iwa-chan.”

Hajime clears his throat. “So,” he says, hoping he won’t choke on his own words, “is this your way of confessing? All cryptic messages and hypothetical questions bordering on philosophy?”

He covers Tooru’s face with the spread of a palm and Tooru slaps it away as expected, half-hearted, knowing, revealing himself in the process. He glares at Hajime, squinting past the mess of tears and cheeks flushed ruddy and nose all scrunched up. “What, like you would do any better? We would’ve gone through a mass extinction before you did anything.”

“I think you’ll do stupid things and I’ll eventually be desperate enough to kiss you to shut you up.”

Tooru’s mouth goes agape, for a second. He mashes it shut (and it’s definitely been too long for that flush to be solely from exercise) when he finds that Hajime can’t keep eye contact during the confession. And he just grins, the smug dumbass.

“I like like you a lot, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime huffs out a breath, squishing Tooru’s cheeks again so he doesn’t catch more glimpses of Hajime’s own burning face. He smiles, too, when Tooru’s laugh only rings melodious.

Their train enters the tunnel, underground darkness coating the windows.

A toddler wails, their mother all shh’s and whispering warmth, and Tooru just hums an old-learned lullaby, smiling when the mother answers with a grateful yet awed glance. Tooru finds him by the graze of pinky fingers. “Iwa-chan, are you tired of me yet?”

At this, after ninety-nine years, Hajime’s grip on the handrail doesn’t strangle. “No,” he tells him as per usual. “Not yet.”

“I’m fifteen for a moment Caught in between ten and twenty And I’m just dreaming Counting the ways to where you are.”

[ao3]

[loveinpanem-blog]

Love is...Unconditional

Banner by the brilliant, amazing and perfectly talented @akai-echo

Parts 1 and 2 are available on AO3/ffnet! 

Epilogue will post on Valentine’s Day. 

A million thanks to my lovely friend, @eala-musings for betaing this, the incomparable @akai-echo for the prereading, making the gorgeous set of banners and for talking me through some plot points. And finally, to the wonderful @thegirlfromoverthepond , my other partner in crime with @loveinpanem for inspiring this fic. Thank you all!

Part 3 - Release

“I’m fine, I promise,” I said, holding the cellphone in the crook between my neck and shoulder as I spoke to Prim and packed at the same time.

“I know, I know, but I just worry. I’ve never gone a month without seeing you. When are you coming home?”

“Soon, Little Duck,” I said, using my most soothing voice. Peeta quietly took my bag from my hands and checked the room one last time before we shut the door behind us.

“Okay. I just need to know you’re okay and I’ll quit worrying.” Her voice was plaintive, sounding like it did when we were children.

I sighed and watched Peeta pull on his shoes and tie them, knots double-laced, as always. “This trip has been one of the most important ones I’ve ever taken.” He looked up at me, one eyebrow raised as if in skepticism. I held his gaze defiantly as I continued. “I wish it would never end.”

His face softened, becoming thoughtful, then sad, before he let his eyes drop down to his shoes where his fingers still rested on the laces. I wished my sister goodnight and retreated to the restroom to brush my hair and keep myself from falling all over Peeta once again.

XXXXX

We stayed in Haymitch’s house just long enough to notify the proper individuals regarding Haymitch’s possessions so that they would be properly disposed of before we took the next train out. With him being legally dead and yet having been so visible and active in the matters of that small town, we were in no position to allow ourselves to be caught up in the confusion that would likely ensue with Haymitch’s abrupt disappearance.

The train took us further southwest, to the coastline of Panem, where District 4’s seaside towns were located. The trip lasted nearly three days, as we were unable to secure a ticket on an express train. Dread, heavy like the stone I’d cast into the lake, sat in my belly as we neared the place where Peeta was last alive. I suggested several times that we make a detour, stop in District 7, or even make a clandestine visit to District 12. It was, after all, our home and wouldn’t it be nice to see it one last time? But Peeta demurred, insisting that we go to the sea.

“There’s one more stop we need to make,” he kept repeating.

“But why the sudden hurry?” I insisted, cloaking myself in a naive hope that I could prolong all of this, pretending that I didn’t know why he was now racing to get to District 4.  To Peeta’s credit, he didn’t indulge my fantasies, but he wasn’t cruel or blunt either. He simply smiled, running his hands along my hair and down my braid before releasing it with a small tug.

Those days on the train with him existed beyond all reality. I wasn’t sure how things could get any stranger than my traveling with the corporeal ghost of my deceased husband, but it did. No one existed except for us, even though the train was full of people going about their business each day.

No one seemed to notice that Peeta was different, except for a small toddler with curly blond hair who waddled up to him when we were visiting the dining cabin. The child could have passed for Peeta’s son as he stared at him, not with fear, but with confusion as to the nature of the kind, blond-haired man he’d been instinctively drawn to.

“He’s beautiful,” I whispered as his mother tugged him away. I felt a memory barrelling upwards, a memory I pushed violently away for fear it would make me bleed.

Peeta’s face went through a quick series of changes, first frowning, then smoothing out to impassivity. “Some people are more attuned to ghosts than others,” he said, turning the pages of the magazine next to his sandwich.  “Kids, especially.”

We fell into a tense silence, which persisted until the little boy finally left the car with his mother.

XXXXX

“Do you know I have a secret?” I said one night, sprawled out on our cabin bunk.

Peeta, who had been placidly reading at his side of the bed, looked up. “Really? Do tell.”

“Yes. Something I’ve never told you.” I took up most of the space on the bed as I spread out dramatically. “I had a girlfriend the very first year we went to college.”

Peeta closed the book, watching me as I smiled at the memory. “I had no idea.”

“Well, you and I weren’t actually dating yet. It was weird, really, how it all happened. I’m not exactly a people magnet, but she liked me and pursued me. She was very pretty - astonishingly so given what a social idiot I was.”

“I’m not surprised she pursued you. I’d been pining for you since I was five. How long did it last?”

I shrugged. “Four months. But it was...intense. We saw each other every day. She was the first person I’d ever had sex with and I admit - we couldn’t get enough of each other. But then it just fizzled out. We never talked about the future, never mentioned marriage. It was just...what it was. So when she left, I let it go. She had marked an important period of my life, but I wasn't as devastated as I would have expected.” I turned my head up towards him. “I learned a lot from her but she didn’t break me when she left.” I rolled over and rested my head on his lap, looking up into his blue eyes, which danced with amusement and a certain amount of awe.  “It’s strange, the things that connect people.”

“Maybe it’s because you and I are married?” he whispered, playing with my hair.

I shook my head. “Marriage is a formality, nothing more. No, it’s because when I decided to love you, I gave it all to you - I made my existence completely enthralled to yours, and if you'd have stuck around, it would have been good. I gambled on the fact of you living, but I lost.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his expression pained.

I shrugged. “Don’t be. Maybe the odds weren’t in my favor. But you were worth all of it, even with the pain of losing you. Knowing what I know now, I'd still do it all over again, because simply being with you was a gift.” I ran my hands along his leg, reveling in the hard muscle beneath his pants.  “I'm learning to accept that I will live my entire life and never love anyone the way I love you.”

“It’s not true,” he said, helping me onto his lap. “You can love someone else one day.”

I shook my head. “Hey, I just admitted to surviving beyond you. That’s all the progress you’re going to get out of me today.”

Peeta snorted in disbelief, but he didn’t argue with me. Instead, he kissed me, murmuring sweet nothings in my ear before asking, “So, do you have any more secrets?”

I snaked my arms around his shoulders, realizing how many things we still had to learn about each other, and wondering if there would ever be enough time. “Yes, but for now, I think I’ll keep them to myself.”  

XXXXX

When we descended from the train, we walked out onto a two-lane road. One side was lined with shops and restaurants, while the oceanside featured a long boardwalk that went on for miles in either direction, punctuated by public beaches, quaint motels and wide stretches of sawgrass and mangroves. The sea was not masked behind even the tallest structures but made itself known by the deafening roar of its call and the overpowering smell of salt. It beckoned from the open spaces of beach and between the alleyways of buildings.

We searched the strip, or rather, I followed as Peeta wandered from one motel to another until we arrived at a small establishment with adjoining restaurant, buried under overgrown vines and trees, hanging thick with bougainvillea and jasmine. A sign with the handpainted name, The Seacomber, was posted proudly at the entrance and above the building.The smell intoxicated me, and I knew we’d arrived even before he’d stopped to consider the building.

“Here,” was all he said as he took my bag and stepped inside a tiny office with a faux-marble countertop that served as the front desk.  We were greeted by a middle aged woman with a face that smiled easily. A handsome young man, not much younger than me, with an unmistakeable resemblance to the woman, emptied the trash bins in the small office, pausing only to welcome us before exiting through a door in the back.

“I can offer you a poolside room on the first floor,” the woman suggested, showing us a map of the U-shaped property. A large pool area sat in the middle, surrounded by lounge chairs. The opening of the configuration faced out to the sea. I examined the layout more closely.

“Is that one available?” I asked, pointing at the leg of the U, at the end of which appeared to be a room that faced directly onto the ocean.

“That’s our honeymoon suite complete with a full kitchen, separate bedroom featuring a king-sized bed, and a lounge area that opens onto the balcony overlooking the beach. It’s...pricier...than this one.” The woman, who wore a name badge identifying her as Cecilia, pointed at the room she had originally assigned us.  

“I’ll take it,” I said, glancing at Peeta. He made to protest, but I silenced him.

“I want this. Please.”

He nodded and watched as I signed the credit card slip and gave it to her in exchange for a large room key with the number 11 hanging on it.

I was satisfied when we made it to the room. It was one of the loveliest rooms I’d ever seen - white-painted, wooden furniture adorned the open space. The sofas were dressed in homey prints of yellow and blue with matching pillows and a throw blanket. Sheer white curtains rustled in the breeze of the open window and the current created by the ceiling fans circling above. I set my bag down and crossed to the large balcony that, from the door, appeared suspended directly above the ocean. The shore only became visible when I approached the rail.

The smell arrested me - the aroma of flowers we’d encountered wafting up to our room, mingled with the sea, the sand, even the pungent odor of chlorine from the nearby pool. The squall of seagulls in the distance was the only sound we heard and I was grateful for the sparsely populated beach that spread for miles in each direction.

But it was the ocean that drew my interest. Rolling in on gentle waves under a partially-clouded sky, it did not give a hint of its menace. Rocks piled over each other to the south and the north beach curved into a bay that drew most of the sea-goers’ attention, for the water was smooth, almost mirror-like to swim in. But this savage beauty enticed me, nearly making me believe that it’s invitation into its depths was benevolent and sincere.

“I never thought I’d come to the sea again,” I said. Peeta came up behind me, wrapping his powerful arms around my waist. “I don’t know that I can go in it.”

He squeezed, pulling me flush against him. “Then don’t. I’d never force you to do a thing.”

“But what about you?  Doesn’t it…?”

“Does it disturb me? In the beginning, I was terrified of everything. I didn’t understand what was happening. But I came to grips with this,” he spread his hands out to indicate the treacherous water that lay before us. “It was one of the first obstacles I had to overcome so I could go where I needed to go, which was to you.”

I crossed my arms over his. “I’ll never forgive it.”

Peeta sighed, turning me to look at him. “It’s useless to hate a mindless thing.”

“Well, then who else do I complain to about this?” He fell silent on this point. He’d died but he knew as little about everything after as I did. “Well, then, since no one is listening, you’ll have to forgive me for hating that thing for taking you away.”

He shook his head but didn’t protest anymore. It was useless to argue over such things, anyway.

XXXXX

The family who owned the establishment where we stayed was a small one. There was Cecilia and her husband, Caleb, a jolly man somewhat older than her but who still preserved a certain air of humor about him that rendered him youthful. They spoke of two boys - Jayden, who was studying in a residential engineering program in District 2, and Thresh, who also studied in north Panem but stayed back in the summers to help his parents run the motel.

“Thresh sure does love the seaside,” Cecilia said fondly of her son, who at that moment was wiping down the machinery in the back of the restaurant. “His older brother had more of an itch to go away, do something different. But Thresh will probably inherit the place, since he loves working here so much.”

Peeta and I sipped our coffee as she chatted. We were consistently the last customers to make it down to the dining room before the breakfast bar closed.

“Now, don’t you worry,” she said as I apologized for the third morning in a row when we arrived only ten minutes before breakfast stopped being served. “We keep those hours for the business folk who come in and have to eat early so they can get on to their meetings and things. You both are obviously on vacation. We can relax the rules some.” She winked as Caleb brought hot water for our tea. “I’m on the ins with the owner.”  

We spent the days walking along the beach, exploring the national park north of our location. There was a reef off the coast that was only a small boat trip from the motel but after two weeks, I still refused to go in the water.

On one of our walks, after I’d turned down yet another invitation by Peeta to go in the water, he paused, considering me before taking off his t-shirt, leaving him in his swim shorts.

“What are you doing?” I said, panicking as he exposed his fair skin to the sun. “You barely put on any sun block!”

“Worry wort,” he teased as he gave me a brief, lopsided grin before turning and plunging, head-first, into the ocean.

“No!” I shouted, scrambling to take off my dress and race in after him. When I reached him, I grabbed him by the arm and jerked him towards me.

“Get out! GET! OUT!” I screamed, pulling frantically at him.

“I’m fine, I’m not going out there, Katniss. Please!” he begged as I continued to shout at him until I had managed to drag him out onto the sand.

“How dare you do that to me!” I screamed, hitting him on the chest, not once, but several times, tears now streaming down my face. “You promised you wouldn’t force me!”

“I’m sorry!” Peeta said. “I just really wanted to go in, so you could realize that I’m okay. I can take a swim and nothing will happen to me.”

I leaned my cheek against his wet shoulder, trying to regain my composure. I remembered the ambulances, the police cars, the National Guard boats out on the open water, combing the rocks, the reef islands, the mangrove fields and not finding anything, leaving me on this very beach, just north of where they were now, kneeling and begging for the courage to throw myself into the sea too.

“It’s physical. I…” I looked up at him, calmer but still upset. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, scraping my cheek with the fine grains of sand. “I just can’t let it touch me. It’s taken too much from me.”

“Hey,” he said, holding me firmly to him. “I understand. I felt the same way when I first, well, after…”

“You’ve had more time to deal with it. This is the first time I’ve been in front of the ocean in three years.” I looked out at it, so warm and beautiful, calling to me, presenting itself as it is, without will or volition. It just was and could no more help itself than the wind could stop itself from blowing.

I turned to look at Peeta, who was staring at me with those confounding blue eyes filled with worry. The water dripped from his hair, down his chest - making his hair sparkle again. I ran my fingers through the damp hair, curling them before I released them. Taking a decision, I stood and helped him to his feet and. With his hand firmly in mine, I waded into the warm, lapping waves, shivering despite the temperature.

Terror raced over me but I swallowed it back, breathing deeply in time with the music of the seagulls in the distance. I squeezed Peeta’s hand, swaying slightly as we reached the break line, where the sea was most insistent, waves crashing with mindless force against us. Finally, the foamy, roiling water became gentle undulations that spread and caressed us, a contained fury that enticed us to let down our guard, to trust it, but never too much.

Peeta pulled me up so that he was holding me, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. The water came to our mid chest, so we let it carry us, each anchored to the other. Despite my terror of earlier, I felt safe and protected, the way I could only feel with Peeta. I still eyed the sea in anger and no small amount of hatred, but I could also admit its beauty and serenity into my consciousness. My arms were wrapped loosely around his neck and I heard his murmurs in my ear, dampened by the low roar of the surf.

“Hmmm?” I asked, unable to capture his words with any clarity.

“Oh,” he said, as if he hadn’t been aware that he’d been speaking. “It’s a silly thing really,”

“Tell me,” I insisted.

He looked sheepish but he spoke again, this time so I could hear:

We the mortals touch the metals,

the wind, the ocean shores, the stones,

knowing they will go on, inert or burning,

and I was discovering, naming all these things:

it was my destiny to love and say goodbye.

 I kissed him then pulled back. “That’s beautiful...and so sad…”

Peeta shrugged, pulling me back to my place, head on his shoulders, arms and legs wrapped around him. “It is, isn’t it?”

XXXXX

We spent so many days that way, where the goal was not where we were going or what we were doing, but that these things were done together. Peeta had always had a gift for sketching and I sat next to him for hours as he indulged himself, making drawings of me, of himself, the birds and oceans. And he gifted each creation to me, amongst the most precious things he ever gave me.

We took long naps in the afternoon, retreating to our room to talk, read or make love - whatever and whenever the mood struck us. In the quiet rhythms of our time together, we learned more about each other than in the ten years we’d been married, punctuated as they were by the constant freneticism of work, obligations and an ever present to-do list. I imagined myself doing this forever but my imagination would not reach that far. It was funny how people were made - we could get used to almost anything and I eventually became accustomed to the uncertainty, living as fully as possible in the moments I spent with him.

Some days, when Peeta napped and sleep eluded me, I wandered the premises or the beach, though I refrained from going in the water without him.  There were small, secret places in that motel, and I wandered into one of them after nearly a month, drawn by the lonely chords of a beautiful piano piece I nearly recognized. I followed it, searching for its source until I reached a conference room, its door closed but not locked. I opened and walked through.

The music drew me in, a gentle melody that was executed with a practiced, if hesitant tempo, as if the player did not fully trust their ability to play. I followed the music, which I recognized as Comptine d’un Autre. It took me back to my youth in District 12, and to, Madge, who would invite me to her house nearly every day. Each time, at some point in the visit, she would sit me down next to her as she played this melody and others, all the while pausing between songs to chat. Sometimes we said nothing at all and she just played song after song, which suited me fine because I loved listening to her play.  My visits always smelled of tea and cookies, sometimes homemade, mostly bought from Mellark’s Family Baker.

The thought brought Peeta to my mind, causing me to nearly turn back. I missed him when I wasn’t with him, but he’d had been sleeping so peacefully, I was loathe to disturb him.

I forced the door open and stepped inside. A young girl of about 12 sat at a fairly old and well-worn piano. She wore a blueberry-colored dress with a crisp collar, the color of whipped cream. Her slender fingers danced, occasionally missing a key, which she corrected with a smooth shift of her hand. Her skin glowed smooth and brown, her tight curls fastened into two fluff buns on either side of her head, held in place with ribbons the color of her dress.

Drawn by the music and the nearly picture-like perfection of the girl, I stepped up to the piano, capturing the expression of surprise on the sweetest face I’d ever seen.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly, noticing that she wore the same look of being on the verge of a smile that Cecilia and Thresh possessed. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

The girl, who had paused in her playing, spoke with the voice that reminded me of trilling birds.  “Oh, you’re not. I’m just keeping myself busy, like my brother always says.

I was confused. Cecilia had only mentioned two boys, but I kept it to myself. “My best friend used to play that piece. When I was young, it was my favorite and I always made her play it.”  I smiled as she giggled. “I’m Katniss.”

“I’m Rue,” she said, resuming her playing. “I want to practice so I can play at the school assembly. But I have to learn it perfectly first.”

“It sounds perfect to me,” I said, taking a chair next to her. She took up humming the tune under her breath. I watched the soft undulations of her shoulders as she brought her arms to her side, chasing the tune with child-like persistence. A sound, harsh and short, caught my attention and I turned. It jarred, not because it was loud but because it reminded me of a wound being torn audibly open.

I saw that Thresh had taken a seat at a long table behind me, watching with an expression of agony as the girl played on.

“You can see her?” he asked, the sound barely audible over the tinkling of piano keys.

“Yes,” I answered. “She’s a very good player, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a paper napkin from his pocket and gripping it in his fist. “She comes and goes, always playing that song. I’m the only one who ever sees her. At least others can see your husband.”

“You noticed that,” I said, more calmly than I should have. But it was clear that Thresh and I were two of a kind. “Why is she here?”  My proximity to this world taught me that there was always a reason that the dead lingered, always a knot that they were seeking to untie before they could be free.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice sounding more tired than anyone should sound at his age. “When she was born, I was so jealous of her. My parents paid so much attention to her, and my older brother - he was too busy with his own things.” His face clenched as if he had been struck. “I only learned later that she had been born sickly and my parents were just trying to...keep her comfortable. Alive. By the time I figured it out, I’d wished her dead so many times that I was sure I was the one who made her sick.”

“It doesn’t really work that way,” I whispered, though who was I to lecture anyone on regret?

“When she turned 11, she died.” He rubbed his face, as if trying to keep all that he felt by physically shoving those feelings away. “She won’t leave because she knows my evil wishes killed her.”

Rue stopped playing and turned to look at him, staring without saying a word.

“She does that too,” he says. “Just stops and stares at me, like she’s accusing me.”

My heart ached for him and Rue. For Haymitch and Maysilee.  For myself and Peeta. For all the spirits torn away too soon and the broken souls they left behind.

“I don’t think she’s here because she’s angry. They never come to us out of anger.” I closed my eyes and thought of my husband, how I could describe in every way his presence in my life but never as a haunting. The living were haunted, not by ghosts, but by their own regrets.

“I think she’s just waiting for you to forgive yourself. You were just a child. No amount of wishing in the world could have made her stay or leave.”

Thresh stared back at his sister, who held his gaze with innocent purity. “I didn’t know, Rue,” he said, his voice now broken. “I didn’t know.”

Rue stood and walked towards him, her small dress swishing about her knees. When she reached him, she touched his hand and smiled, provoking a hiccup of sobs from him as he took the little girl’s hand and pressed it to his lips. He held it there as if it would keep all the grief in the world from spilling out of him and blotting the bright sunlight beyond the windows. With her other hand, Rue cupped his cheek and, like a blueberry tinted rainbow, shimmered and dissolved into mist.

XXXXX

I quietly left Thresh in the dignity of his solitude, knowing those moments belonged only to him. I couldn’t get a handle on how I felt after that. I stumbled out of the room and down the hall, my memory attempting to betray me again, reminding me that I, too, had an account to settle, a ledger on my balance.

I thought if I walked quickly enough, I could escape it. But it had become another spirit, one less benevolent than all the ones I’d met. It was vengeful, insistent and emanated purely from my guilt. As I pushed the door that opened onto the sparsely populated pool and I wound my way to the stairs that would take me to our suite, the spirit of that memory overcame me, and I had no choice but to stop under its power.

I was back in District 4, the night before Peeta died. We’d return from a walk with Finnick and Annie, both aglow with joy from the good news. They were expecting their first child in the fall, and they had infected both Peeta and I with their excitement. In particular, Peeta was as ecstatic as if the good news had been his own.

When we returned to our guest room, Peeta had acted immediately under that borrowed happiness. He’d taken me and kissed me, his hand sliding over my belly to grip my waist, his intent clear. No matter what happened between us, how angry the fights or how deep the disappointments,we always had this way of connecting, through the physical rhythms of our bodies, moving in synchronicity - a dance that always brought us back together.  Our unity of motion coaxed the same in our hearts.

When it was over, Peeta had whispered, “What about us?”

I had known what he was asking for he had asked for it often in the years of our marriage. There had always been a way for me to put him off - first our need to finish school, then the more pressing need to save money - all to hide the real reason I didn’t want to have children. I was terrified to death of having them, ruining them and, most compelling and ironic of all, of losing them.

“Maybe when we move back to District 12,” I had answered lamely. I knew Peeta had hoped for something more enthusiastic and committed from me but that night, I had failed. And it had been a critical failure.

Peeta was far too sensitive to me. He perceived the hesitation, and, soon, all I felt was ice from his side of the bed. I reached out to touch him, to try to find that connection to him again, the one I had severed with my answer. But he sat up suddenly, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and dressed quickly.

I sat up also, gathering the bed sheets around me.

“Where are you going?”

He paused, his rigid features visible only in profile, but it was enough to capture to depth of his hurt and anger.

“The thing I’ve always looked most forward to in our life together was the possibility of having a child with you. To have someone who carried a piece of you together with a piece of me.” He inhaled loudly, as if it would steady him.

“I want that too, some day…” I said, hearing the emptiness in my words as I said them and knowing that I was continuing to fail miserably.

“One day?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “I don’t understand why you would marry someone you don’t want to have child with.”

“That’s not true!” I said, anger now spewing out of my chest, at him and at me. “That’s such an unfair thing to say!”

“Why the hesitation then, Katniss? Why else but because I just don’t inspire that in you? Maybe someone else would be better able to do that.”

“Hey, hold on,” I said, oblivious to the fact that my blankets had fallen away and my voice was rising. “You don’t have to say things like that to me!”

Peeta stood and whirled around, hands balled into tight fists. “Oh, come on!  You keep putting up every fucking obstacle that you can find to actually settling down and starting a family. You keep postponing our move back to 12, you’re completely unenthusiastic about me taking over the baker…”

“I just want to make sure we have enough money, that’s all! You’re just turning everything around so that you don’t have to take responsibility for your own unhappiness!”

Peeta grabbed his hoodie and threw it haphazardly over his head. “You know what? My happiness depends as much on you as yours does on me. I take responsibility for that. You’re the one who keeps pursuing goals that take no account of how I feel!” He shoved his feet into his shoes. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I’m taking a walk.”

“Don’t...don’t go,” I said, suddenly horrified by the argument, by our words. “Please, let’s talk it out. Maybe I can…”

“You can what?  Keep putting me off? I’ll pass on that, thanks.” He turned, opened the door and left the room. I was so stupid. I should have gotten dressed. I should have gone after him. Instead, I kept thinking that if I gave him time, he’d come around, become the Peeta that I loved, the Peeta I’d taken for granted - the patient one, the one who was always willing to apologize first, and make amends.

I chose to sit on that bed and wait in my self-righteous anger.

It was the last time I saw him alive.

XXXXX

Tears blinded me as I finally arrived in our suite. Peeta was awake and making coffee in the kitchen. I tried to calm down, tried to find a stable place. We had so very little, precious time.

“Are you okay?” Peeta asked as I paced the room. Memories had become feelings that rose up to swallow me and God knows I didn’t want them. I didn’t want them to make their appearance. I pressed my temples as if I could push them back behind the wall of darkness where they could haunt me without my awareness. But it was futile. The time had come, and I could no more keep them back than I could hold back the waves that had taken my husband’s life.

“You have no idea what these last three years have been like for me,” I said between clenched teeth.

“No,” Peeta said softly. “I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”

I wiped my cheeks, trying to take in air. “No one has ever hated themselves more. You have to understand,” I leaned against the window, gazing at the sea, at once so calm and beckoning, yet full of treachery and death. “I let you die with that stupid argument between us. I didn’t realize how...how badly you wanted them.  And I was too proud to tell you how afraid I was.”  I turned to him. “Why did we let it go so long?”

“Because I never pushed you,” Peeta said, suddenly next to me, flexing and unflexing his hands in that confounding habit he’d come to have. “I didn’t want to force you and have you hate me if you weren’t happy with the decision.”

“You should have forced me!” I shouted, all of my self-hatred and regret rising out of me in one enormous wave of feeling, powerful enough to pull me under. I was forced to take a seat on the divan. “You don’t know how many...how many times...I...cursed myself for saying no to you. For not going after you and telling you, once and for all, that I would give you everything you wanted.” I balled my fists against my eyes to keep the tears from escaping again. “If I’d have just done that, you would still be here, with me and not dead...and fading…”

“Katniss, please! I told you not to play this game!”

“I should have had your baby!” There it was, the truth. I would have had someone to comfort me, to make my life worth something in the event he left me and took my heart, my soul, my will to exist with him. “I should have just said yes.”

“Katniss…” he whispered, rubbing circles between my shoulder blades while I sobbed. “You weren’t ready. I...I made the mistake. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you.”

His words still stung, even with the distance of memory. “I was...haunted...obsessed...by the thought that if I had only just said yes...if I had only just given in.” I sobbed between my words, forcing them to make sense. “And this...thing...this regret...it nearly killed me. And now it traps you here.” I look up at him, feeling so unworthy of him, of everything he had given me and continued to give me. “Why did you even bother to come back?”

Peeta sank down onto the divan next to me, flexing his right hand again. “I have a confession to make.”

I stopped blubbering enough to listen to him. “I thought I was the only one with secrets.”

“That’s not entirely true. I...I owe you an apology.”

“And apology? Why?” I look down at his hand and notice the subtle phase shifting like Haymitch, noticed his hands as they curled into a fist and opened again. “You’re fading, aren’t you?” I gripped his arm in a panic. “You’re beginning to fade!”

He shrugged, capturing my hand in his and squeezing. “I’m always coming and going. That...that’s not...Katniss, I’m not just here for you.”

“Not here just for me?” I repeat, never having posed the question of his current state of existence, even to myself before today.

“I didn’t realize it at the time, of course, why I’d held on, why, when other spirits were moving on, I was stuck and couldn’t leave. I needed to make it right with you. I needed...I shouldn’t have left you that way. I should have never said those things to you.”  His ragged breath prefigured the tears that now fell.

“Shhhh….” I whispered, pulling him towards me.  “People say things…”

“You were alone for so long,” he continued.  “I could hear your grief, Katniss. It was like a lonely chord rising above a symphony of existence, a note that only I could hear. I followed it because if you suffered, it was because of me. I’m the one who left you alone after that argument without making amends. I had no choice but to come to you. I had to fix that.”

I gripped him to me, revelling in the feel of him, a feeling I never wanted to duplicate with anyone else ever again. “You have nothing to apologize for. We got a little lost, that’s all. But it never changed anything for me. I love you. I loved you then.” I looked up at him. “The only thing that could fix everything is if you stayed. We could live here, if you like, or in the mountains. Any place would do.”

Peeta shook his head. “I’m not in the right place.”

He stood, stepping toward the large window I had just vacated, beyond which lay the sea. He had no fear of it - he’d demonstrated that to me already when we swam in it. But he leaned towards it, as if it beckoned to him, and I knew, I knew I wasn’t ready. I could be - I could make myself strong, but just not at that moment.

“No, not yet!” I shouted, hurling myself at him, gripping his arm, not realizing that his edges had been blurring until my hand landed on him and he became solid. “Please, I’m not ready.”

He shook his head. “Neither am I,” he said, pulling me into a tight embrace. “I’ll never be ready to be without you.”

We held on to each other for a long while before he spoke again, his words rumbling in the depth of his chest, radiating in my ear.

“Please? Stay?” I begged, but weakly, because I knew it was only a delusion.

“I’m fighting everything to be here, but I only have so much strength until the tide turns and takes me away again.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Peeta!” I shouted. “That’s such a horrible metaphor!”

He froze, perhaps not expecting such a reaction from me, before chuckling into my shoulder. “You’re right. That was downright lurid.”

XXXXX

After we exchanged more reassurances, more words, the exactness of which I can no longer remember, but there was healing in them. We cleaned up and took a walk down to the small shack of a restaurant that served fresh seafood. We ordered several plates and a bottle of astonishing good, local white wine. We sampled everything on the menu, stuffing ourselves until my belly felt sloshy and full.

I told him all my secrets then. About the time I’d caught a deer after my father died and let it go because I couldn’t stand to kill it, even though the meat would have been welcomed. The only time I’d cheated on a test. How much I first envied my sister when she was born. How desolate I was when my father died and my mother couldn’t pull herself from the depression that followed.

And he told me his. The crush he’d had on our fourth-grade teacher. The time he nicked gumballs from the sweet shop, so proud he’d gotten away with it that he’d saved those round, shiny treats until they became brittle and nearly disintegrated to powder in his desk drawer. The night his mother had gotten piss drunk and woke him up in the middle of the night to confess that she did love him, with all her heart, but she was a right piece of shit and didn’t know how to show anyone how much.

“I can’t believe your mother would say that,” I said, feeling drunk in my own right.

“That’s mom for you - she isn't afraid to drop a surprise drunk confession on you in the middle of the night.” He looked up at me, his face suddenly serious. “Does it make me a horrible person that I didn’t once think of going to look in on my family?”

I thought about it. “Well, I never once mentioned it so that makes us both lousy human beings.”

He lifted his glass in a mock toast, before downing the glass of white wine in one gulp. “Come on, woman. Let’s pay this bill. I”ve always wanted to make love to you on the beach.”

I smiled as I paid the bill and we strolled for a long way along the beach. It felt terribly like something on a bucket list, which I indulged him. We did make love on the sand, the gritty grains getting everywhere, invading places where they shouldn't be. But when he poured salt water over me with his hands, cupping the warm water and letting it fall over my arms, my shoulders, the warm liquid racing in rivulets over my belly, I forgave all the discomforts. We melted into the gentle waves, clinging in the unfathomable darkness to one another. The waves pushed us gently together and I thought how ironic that, on our second last night together, the sea would conspire to unite what it had so violently torn apart.

XXXXX

Peeta fell asleep as soon as we returned to the suite.  I barely closed my eyes, opening them every few minutes to check that he was still next to me. But he was. In the silence of the room, and the depth of his exhaustion, I watched him sleep, memorizing him, cursing my inability to generate even the most rudimentary picture. While at Haymitch’s, I had tried to capture him with my cellphone but he simply refused to appear.  

“You can’t break every single law of physics,” he had said as I showed him the shot I’d taken. There was only an outline, like capturing the scattering of light, which only hinted that a person was standing there.

“It’s like those ghost pictures that you see in magazines sometimes,” I said.

“I guess you’re not the first person who’s thought about taking a picture of a ghost.”

Now, I had only my eyes, my memory, which would fade and leave only the impression of the man I loved, a poor duplicate for someone I had come to need for my very survival. But feast I did, until I was bleary-eyed from exhaustion. It was an exercise in futility, for no amount of staring would ever be enough. And he hid, in the sweetness of his slumber, the most striking thing that made Peeta Mellark who he was - his deep blue eyes, full of the texture of his kind heart and gentle soul.

When he woke at dawn, I was exhausted and he was struggling. His edges blurred and he compulsively flexed his hands into white-knuckled fists. I put my hand over his. “It’s how you focus, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his face strained. I would never truly grasp how much strength he’d needed to hold himself together until now. He was suffering and I knew that there was nothing to be gained by letting someone I love suffer, even for my sake.

“I wish I could beg you to stay. I wish I knew the formula that would keep you with me forever. But I know now that I can’t,” I said, holding on to his fists more strongly, my breath threatening to escape my lungs and leave me without speech. Everything in my body rebelled against it, but the time was near, and I had to cut the strings and let him go in peace. I had no idea how I would survive, but I knew, for his sake, that I had to try.

“Do you know that we are only aware of .04% of the universe?” he said suddenly.

“I...okay…” I said in confusion, wondering if his sanity would be the first thing to go.

“It’s so immense. It’s been around for so long and it’s expanding, always expanding, and will do so possibly for all of eternity. And our lives are like a flash in the middle of stars blazing their finite light in an infinite darkness - blink and you miss it.” He looked at me with eyes melting into the very stars he described. “I was so privileged to live in that infinitesimal moment in time, to have been alive when you were, and to have had, for that incredibly tiny interval, the gift of your love.”

“Peeta...don’t…” I was sobbing. Leave it to Peeta and his silver tongue to magnify the pain of his leaving a thousand times by simply opening his mouth.

“But I did what I had to do.” He released my hand and place his palm over my belly.  

I looked down at the deceptively flat expanse, warmed by the heat of his palm, and suddenly felt something, perceived in one, fierce vision of illumination the tiny life stirring beneath. My mind struggled to accept what my body had already known, had been preparing for since possibly the first moment the universe was cleaved into a billion pieces, setting in motion the timeline that would bring us to this moment.

“How...how could it happen...how can you possibly know?” I babbled in awe as I put my hand over his and held it.

“I told you...I know things.”

“But you’re a ghost!” I shouted.

Peeta shook his head. “We’re the same,” he raised his hand, shimmering like a collection of constellations. “We are both light and energy, mass and heat. And love. So much love. Einstein got some of it right, at least.”

I held his hand, the solid one, like a captive over the place where our child was taking shape. I had no words for this moment. It was too much for one person, so I just clung to the part of him that was still solid, still here.

After a time, Peeta said, “You’ll never be alone again.”

I smiled, despite the immense pain of my heart breaking in two. I smiled. I cried. I wailed. And finally, I laughed. I flung my arms around him and laughed and cried into his shoulders. “God help me, Peeta. All I can think about is I’m going to have one helluva story to tell when I get home.”

Peeta gripped me and held me close to his him. “Just be sure to leave the good stuff out.”

XXXXX

It happened like a star falling out of the sky. At sunset, I helped him down to the sand, where we both stumbled, falling in a pile on top of each other. We laughed like idiots because we were idiots. Who the hell did stuff like this happen to?

But when we sat in the sand and he became nearly transparent, I beckoned him to me one more time and his eyes became filled once again with the color of the dying sun. “We’ll see each other again, won’t we?”

Peeta became solid as he answered. “We will. Not for a while yet. But we will.”

“Okay,” I said, running my fingers over his face one more time.

“Can you do me one last favor?” he said, flickering now like a candle.

“Anything.”

“Call her Amada. Tell her she was given that name because she is beloved.”

And with that, he was gone.

Epilogue will post on Valentine’s Day.