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docholligay · 3 years

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Christmas Lights

I tried to get in a few Christmas things this year, this is the first one done! 2300 words, all of my OVerwatch world is here.

Tracer was running around the house, her open bag in the middle of the living room, much to Pharah’s dismay. Next to it was a large box, filled to the brim with sloppily but brightly wrapped presents, names scribbled on the paper in Tracer’s large print. By the door, there was a large zipped up case, and a box full of neatly wrapped gifts in matching snowflake paper, each with a neat bow in either red or green.

Pharah regarded Christmas with a disconnect herself, something that reminded her of her father and so was not without some fondness, but also touched nothing deep inside her. She understood Mercy’s general exhaustion for it, and imagined she would feel the same if she had been raised in a country where it overtook.

But, in general, she thought it might be more kindly received if it were more Winston’s Christmas, and less Tracer’s.

Of course, in one sense, it was the same Christmas, Tracer having wheedled her way, somehow--her charm was as endless as it was irritating--to behind the wheel of a cargo plane heading to England, with enough room for both she and Winston, a week and a half of Christmas for the both of them with her family. Tracer had spent the past two weeks vibrating over it, barely paying attention at team meetings, looking out the window at the snow and chatting at herself about how it would be lovely if London had snow for Christmas, as well.

“Win!” Tracer bounded down the stairs and jumped off the last four, barreling herself into the ground, rolling across her back, and popping to her feet, “Win, it’s nearly time!”

She giggled to herself and bounced across the room, sticking a sweater into the top of the bag and slamming it shut, leaning on it heavily as she zipped the bag. She jumped away from it and examined her handiwork, bright smile as she tapped her fingers together and ran her hand quickly through her hair.

“Excited to be leaving, Lena?” Mercy walked in from the kitchen with her mug of coffee and leaned against the back of the couch.

If Christmas annoyed her for its ubiquity, it never showed when she spoke to Tracer. She simply let Tracer bounce and babble and carry on, with only a smile on her own face to show for it. How Pharah loved her. Tracer could be talking about the same thing, a thing Mercy didn’t care about at best and disliked at worst, telling her the same story, and Mercy only bathed in the fact that someone she cared for was very happy, and excited, and full of joy. She could find purpose in love, even if it were not her own.

Pharah had never been much for the concept of God, but Mercy almost made her believe that such a thing might be possible.

“Oh yes,” Tracer’s voice brought her back from the sacred thought of her wife, “We’re going to the Christmas market at ‘yde Park, for certain, me and Win, and Parvati and ‘er girlfriend at least--and of course her little ones--you know I think Parvati means to propose sometime soon ‘ere, though I said not to do it at Christmas, that’s just, I mean, if you want to playact as a straight man in some movie on the telly, but really--” She shook her head, as if resetting herself like an etch a sketch, “We’ll go ice skating, and then of course there’s all the sweets to be made, Florrie’s a marvelous cook, she is, and I always put up the big tree, me and the kids, all of us stuffed into Win’s ‘ouse, lucky we are he ended up buying something, right? Always said we needed a ware’ouse to store all of us, and there it was! ‘Ave to get all our Christmas jumpers together, think Win’s left ‘is back in London, and it must need cleaning. Oh! And the games we’ll play, you know Raj is always the best at--”

“Lena,” Winston chuckled by the door, picking up his bags, “We need to go.”

“Right, right, of course,” Tracer bounced cheerfully over to her bags and blinked over to the door, setting them haphazardly there, and did it again, barely able to see over the box of presents piled high. “Can’t miss it, they’ll be waiting for us.” she whirled back around to Mercy and Pharah, “‘ave a lovely time with your dad, Fareeha, and tell ‘im I said next time ‘e’s about I’ll requisition a jet from the RCAF and take ‘im up.”

Pharah scoffed. “Under what possible, justifiable reason?”

Tracer stopped as though it had never occurred to her. “I’ll think of something. Use me vast personal stores of charm. Criticize me all you like, Fareeha, but I’m a bloody legendary aviatrix. I’ll offer to fly in one of their little air shows, they’ll let me ‘ave it topped off with petrol, so they will.”

Pharah crossed her arms, and Mercy put a hand on her shoulder, chuckling. “She’s right, you know.”

“It is, at best, a mis--”

Pharah was interrupted by the sudden speed and blink of a tiny Englishwoman next to her on the couch. It was a little chilling, always, when she remembered how fast Tracer was, how nimble, and never was in more horrifying than when this realization ended with a kiss on her cheek.

“Happy Christmas, muffin, I’ll see you when I return!” She gave her little giggle and then blinked off as fast as she’d come, toward the door where Winston had loaded the bags, and hopped up into his arms, laughing all the while. The door closed behind them, and Pharah sat for a moment, Mercy sidling in beside her.

“Tis is the first peace I will have had in weeks.” Pharah gratefully accepted the mug from Mercy.

“Considering she was bleeding to death beneath my hand a few months ago, I would listen to her talk over Christmas for hours.”

“You have a kinder soul than I.” Pharah took a sip of her hot chocolate. “I will always say so. She tries my patience to its thinnest point.”

“Were you not there, when you were giving her your own blood to save her life? Yelling to me that you are my commanding officer to force my hand?” She shook her head, “Your argument is less convincing than you think.”

“She is,” Pharah leaned in to Mercy, “An absolute necessity for the team.”

“You held her hand.” Mercy kissed her cheek. “I think she is growing on you, so to say.”

“The way mold does, maybe.” But she smiled when she said it.

It was true, Pharah could admit, if only to herself, that there was something in the way Tracer had made her believe Overwatch could be reborn, that night they had been drunk in some small bar on the outskirts of Cairo. That Pharah was astonished she held that belief even when the sun rose, and more astonished to realize that she believed it, too. She had not realized how much she attached her own hope to Tracer’s dogged determination until she had seen her life slipping away.

But it was as impossible as it would be unkind to explain to Mercy that she had seen Overwatch slipping from her grasp more than Tracer’s life. Mercy was not so cold as her, and would never understand. She saw Tracer--no she saw Lena--as a friend, as a deeply loved member of her family who would be mourned, not as a useful part of the machine that would bring Overwatch back to prominence. Mercy was less practical, it was true, but she was in tough with softer things, things that Pharah had only begun to appreciate since Mercy had come into her life.

Mercy smiled. “So you say.”

“I do say.” She put her hand on her wife’s leg. “When would you like to leave for Sam’s?”

The house was empty now, Dva long since having left to go back to Korea for a tie-in Christmas special with some brand of energy drink.

Mercy fiddled in her seat for a moment, eyebrow furrowed. “Well, we could--”

“You don’t want to go,” She said it plainly, and without hurt, “I thought Christmas did not bother you? Or has it been, and I’ve been so--”

“No, no, of course not,” she touched Pharah’s cheek tenderly, “It isn’t that, no. I was never bothered. I just..”

She looked off into the distance a little bit, to the far window, where her menorah still sat from a Hanukkah quite a few days past, glowing Christmas lights surrounding the edge of the window. Pharah let her sit in her silence, sipping on her chocolate for a moment and looking at her before she gently interrupted Mercy’s thoughts.

“It has been, I think, an exhausting year.”

Mercy looked over to her with a gratitude she could not speak. Pharah was a quiet person, about her feelings, but she noticed everything people did, everything they said and didn’t say. Or maybe it wasn’t all people. Maybe it was just Mercy.

“Yes. I--”

Pharah chuckled. “We managed to build this base, recruit D.Va, get in a tangle with Talon, and then Tracer decided to nearly die. All in twelve months. Less.” She set down her mug, and brought her other hand to Mercy, “And you with no vacation.”

“You can leave me, of course, or--I am capable of going, maybe only a few days to--”

Pharah held up a hand. “This won’t be the first Christmas I do not spend with Sam, and his family. My mother did not raise me with it and I have no affection for it.” She looked at Mercy, very seriously, “Even if I did, you will always be more important than any holiday. My mother was never much for holidays anyway. They are only…days, she would say.” She nodded. “And I think there is truth in that.”

“I am not thinking that for a moment,” Mercy said with a touch of bitterness, and then softened, “but I will allow her influence to be excusing me.” But there was a flicker of emotion in her eyes. “Sam will be missing you. I would--”

“Angela,” she put her arm around Mercy and drew her close, “if it would help you, I will go see him after the new year. For reasons I cannot possibly understand, he likes Tracer, and so I will take her, as well. We can have…fun. I suppose. All he wants is to see me, the date hardly matters. I never spent a Christmas with him until I was a teenager.”

Pharah knew, intellectually, that Mercy was a different creature from her, and so considered the small little moments and wishes of people so deeply in her mind. It was, at least in part, what Pharah loved so much about her.

But to Pharah it was a simple calculation. There would be no injury done, since Christmas was of no importance to her, and her father was not under the impression it ever would. Sam was an infinitely understanding man, and would be pleased with knowing Pharah would visit. Kat might be disappointed--she was a teenager, and so her parents were the greatest of fools while her half-sister was unknowably cool--but Pharah would take her to the range against Sam and Rebecca’s better judgment, and all would be forgiven. Mercy was tired, and deserved her rest, and more importantly deserved not to have to put on a brave face.

There was some work to enjoying Sam’s particular brand of warm-hearted cheer, which often involved a desire to go caroling, which seemed to confuse his neighbors in a kind way. Mercy and Pharah stumbled their way through songs neither of them knew well, and which neither of them was particularly gifted at singing in the first place. Then the cookie decorating. The Christmas Eve pajamas. It was kind, though, and perfectly in keeping with Sam, that as soon as Mercy had joined along, he had dispensed with the Christmas ham in favor of a big prime rib.

There were brief moments when Pharah, noting the warmth of the home, had wondered who she might have been if her father had been allowed a hand in her raising, but she brushed the idea away just as quickly. She might have been exhausting herself.

So Pharah thought nothing of calling him and telling him she and Mercy had opted to stay home.

“I would never want him thinking I don’t love him--”

“Oh, I will tell him I made the decision.” She said it in her way of finality, the way forward clearly decided, “Because I did. It was an invitation, not a court summons.” She stood up in one swift motion, “I have other plans for us, I will tell him. That it is, for the security of the world, necessary we stay here, and wear pajamas on the couch, and eat Chinese food, and pizza, and that I make coffee with whipped cream, and that you do nothing at all. I would never make this judgment call if it weren’t important, and with respect, Dr. Ziegler, as we’ have established, I am your commanding officer.”

She gave Mercy a sly smile, and Mercy returned it gratefully.

“Then I am having no choice in the matter.”

Pharah leaned down and kissed her. “I will call him right now. You relax. Another order.”

Mercy looked over at the Christmas lights glowing in the window, reflecting back on the menorah that sat there. She did enjoy Tracer’s happiness. She did love Sam’s warmth and joy. Winston’s sense of finally having a family. But perhaps this is how she enjoyed Christmas best: the light reflected by those she loved, here apart with Pharah.

#sometimes things can just be sappy

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treason-and-plot · 5 years

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A few strands of Nanette’s hair have come loose from her bun to straggle across the nape of her neck, the skin there so exposed and vulnerable it causes Mia’s heart to contract. But she keeps her voice light and chatty.

Mia: Aw, don’t get all mopey, Ma! You and Renny will just have to have a long distance romance! And heaps of phone sex and sexting! And don’t forget that Raj said that I, I mean we, have to make at least a couple of more trips. So you’ll be back in Paris before you even know it. Provided we don’t get arrested in the next ten hours, obviously. Anyway, you should tell Renny that if he wants to continue knocking boots with you he has to pay for you to fly over here to see him every other week. I mean, Jesus, he’s rich enough. It’s the least he can do! Nanette: Well, maybe. But I can’t help thinking that it’s going to be horrible. How much I’ll miss him. Mia: Poor Ma.

Nanette sighs.

Nanette: I’m sorry to be so self-indulgent, baby. Enough about me. Tell me about your evening with Pablo. Has he been treating you well? Mia: Oh, yeah. First we had the most mind-blowing sex ever in his kitchen. I’m talking multiples, Ma! Then he made an awesome ratatouille for dinner. Then after dinner he did some painting and I was bored so I made him do me up against the wall of his studio and then I had like a two hour bath and then he came into the bathroom and stuck his d- Nanette: I don’t think I need to know that much detail, thank you dear. Mia: Well, you did ask. Nanette: So do you talk to each other at all? Or is it merely a physical relationship? Mia: It’s totally just sex, Ma. The sex is sooooo hot, especially since he waxed his chest after I got that rash, but we have like, nothing in common. I’ve tried to start conversations with him but all he wants to do is lecture me. I think being in the Legion made him into some sort of emotionless robot-man or something. Nanette: I suppose soldiers have to be like that, to a certain extent. They couldn’t do their job otherwise. Mia: Well, he’s not a soldier any more, is he? Whatever. I don’t really care, to be honest. I only want to fuck him, not marry him.

The still night air is interrupted by the sweeping arc of headlights and the low growl of an expensive engine, followed by the exultant braying of Napoleon and Joséphine from inside the mansion.

Nanette: That must be Agathe. I’ll go upstairs and fetch Renny.

Mia helps her to her feet. Then they see Agathe waving to them from the vestibule, Napoleon and Joséphine dancing and leaping around her in a slobbering frenzy.

Nanette: Oh. She must have her own key. She always looks so chic and lovely, doesn’t she? Even at this hour of the morning. What is it about French women? Mia: Ma, don’t say anything about me and Pablo in front of Agathe, okay? Nanette: Why? Does she like him? Mia: Not exactly. Nanette: Then what does it matter? Mia: You know how she told us at L’ escargot that some bloke had broken her heart and she’d never trust a man again and that they were all bastards? Nanette: You’re not saying- Mia: Yes. It was Pablo. Nanette: Nooooo! Mia: Yes, Ma. Shhhhhhh!

#5 years later #Mia #nanette #Agathe #Mia and Nanette in Paris #sims story #sims storytelling #sims 3 story #ts3 story #simblrstories #simblr story #Sims 3

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zandeliongames · 5 years

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A renovated 20 Culpepper House

2bed/ 2 bath and highly influenced by the matriarch.

Geeta was excited. She had asked Raj to bring a date to dinner tonight and he finally said yes. When he arrived home soon after work, he surprised her with several...as well as figs, apricots, and plums that were from the kitchen at work. Geeta was not amused.

#zandelion #san myshuno rebuild #SMR #20 culpepper house #the rasoyas

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bdfanfic · 6 years

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On His Mane’s Secret Service - Chapter 15

Sometime later, she opened her eyes. She finally understood what the Hist were trying to explain. It was a mushroom. She didn’t know it’s name - plants were definitely not something she had ever paid much attention to, let alone mushrooms - but now it was the most important thing she could think of. She would need wheat too, but flour would do and there would be plenty of that in the kitchen. She ran from the room without saying anything to the sisters, who were still underwater anyway. She ran out of the palace without a thought to the guards who watched her run past in her frankly scandalous bodysuit, or the stares of the strangers as she left the palace grounds. She almost didn’t recognize Dar when he shouted at her as she left the palace grounds. There would be no mushrooms there. “Raj!!!” he screamed. “Dar! I… Please, I need your help. I need to find something. It’s a mushroom. A very specific mushroom... “ Dar’Amon shifted gears quickly, fortunately. Ra’Jirra had to endure only a few seconds of impassioned kissing before he recovered his wits. “Describe it,” he said once he’d verified she was alright. She did so, as best she could. “Sounds like blisterwort. Not really my field, but I did have a little training in alchemy. It usually can be found at the southern dark side of old rotted wooden buildings around here.” Within a few minutes, they found some, and Ra’Jirra was happy to realize it was just what she had pictured. However, Dar’Amon wasn’t allowed back into the palace. In fact, she was lucky to have been recognized herself without her Raba, but the guard confessed he had seen her rush out, and the sight of her in her current state was not something easily forgotten. She looked down at herself for a moment - clad only in the skintight bodysuit and still wet from the Royal Bath, she must have looked a sight. But she still had no time. The Histess may be dying and she could help. She ran back into the palace and to the large kitchen, where she muscled some cooks and helpers aside and found a mortar and pestle. She ground the blisterwort into a pulp and grabbed some flour as well and mixed it in, along with a good bit of water to make a thin syrup. The syrup was turning red as she watched, but she had no time. She rushed back to the Mane’s bath, hearing voices from the front of the palace, but she didn’t stop to look. Instead, she found the three Argonians still submerged. One of the sisters rose as she entered the bath and she hastily explained what she held. In a moment, they had pulled the Histess out of the water and opened her mouth unceremoniously before pouring the red syrup down her throat. “What’ on earth is going on in here?” she heard from behind her, as she turned to see the Mane, Deviline and two guards enter. “Ra’Jirra?!” the Mane said, finally recognizing her. She strode from the bath, apologizing as rapidly as she could, when finally her bodysuit gave out. The snap from between her legs was unmistakable and the bodysuit’s tight grip across her body was suddenly loosened. Her fur stood on-end in embarrassment as she realized she was standing half naked in front of the two most powerful Khajiits on Nirn. Ceremonial nudity in a Raba was one thing, but this was quite another in the Khajiit system of propriety. In mid-sentence, trying to cover herself with the mortar and failing miserably, her composure shattered and she sank to the floor in tears, hiding her face in shame. Devline grabbed a throw from a nearby couch and draped it over her her, lifting her easily and carrying her to the couch where he sat with her, assuring her. The Mane sat on the other side. “Don’t be silly, Ra’Jirra,” he was saying. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.” “He’s right, Raj,” Devline assured her, and she looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears still. “We’re just happy to see you’re alive! As for seeing the rest of you too… well, it’s no big deal.” “Well,” the Mane responded with a grin, “maybe not for you…” A sound came from the bath as three reptilian heads rose from the water. The two sisters helped their stricken sibling to her feet. Suddenly all thoughts of embarrassment were banished as Ra’Jirra left the couch and back into the pool to hug the Histess. “Ra’Jirra, give her some room to breath!” one of the sisters said, but with an accompanying laugh. “Oh, no. You stay right here with me, Ra’Jirra. The Khajiitmother lives, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to turn away that embrace!” said Quill-Weave. “Glad to see you getting better,” the Mane said, rising from the couch. “But if Isdra catches me in here with all this female flesh, she’s going to get jealous. Excuse me please, I’ve got to go take a cold shower.” He left with the guards, but Ra’Jirra had to chuckle at the obvious evidence that he wasn’t overstating his reaction, as she helped Quill-Weave out of the bath. -------- Ra’Jirra sent word to Dar’Amon not to wait for her that night, but that she would meet him for the wedding the next day at high noon in the chapel. She stayed instead in a bedroom with the Histess and her sisters all afternoon and evening as the Argonian recovered. Shortly after the sun had set, the Mane and Isdra entered. “You’re looking better,” the Mane said, taking a seat beside the bed with the Prime Concubine beside him. Ra’Jirra sat on the bed beside her Argonian friend while her sisters lay beside the Histess. “I’m still a little woozy,” Quill-Weave admitted, “but nothing that Ra’Jirra’s potion won’t cure in time. I suppose we will leave in the morning, if we can impose a bit longer.” “Stay as long as you like,” Isdra said, and Ra’Jirra thought it was quite sincere. “You are always welcome in the Palace, Histess. But we’ve come to talk to both you and Ra’Jirra.” “Oh? About what?” The Mane took over the conversation, rising and beginning to pace the floor. “We’ve been thinking about you, Ra’Jirra. You and your unique ability with the Hist that is. Though it’s unprecedented, you clearly cannot remain as a royal concubine. I’m afraid I must remove that royal title from you, through no fault of your own. But I think in the end you will understand that it simply isn’t an appropriate place for you.” Ra’Jirra was not heartbroken as the Mane seemed to think she should be, but it would be rude to show just how not-heartbroken she was, so she kept quiet and just nodded. “However, it’s more than that. Devline pointed out that the Dominion will soon find out you are still alive, if they haven’t already. They will know that this alliance of theirs is doomed so long as you are alive - and with you the promise of a future with the Argonians and the Hist - truly a future Elsewhere.” “That’s probably so,” Quill-Weave agreed, placing a hand on Ra’Jirra’s shoulder. Isdra picked up from the Mane, “To be blunt, Ra’Jirra, you’re going to be at the top of the Dominion’s hit list for some time to come. Even here at the heart of Elsweyr, we’re not sure we can protect you - especially not as long as you’re as high-profile as you have been.” “So, what do you propose?” Ra’Jirra asked, turning back to the Mane. “The logical solution, it seems to us,” Isdra started before the Mane finished for her. “Ambassador to Argonia, Raj. Even if it won’t be for thousands of years, it sounds like we and the Argonians are going to be taking a long trip together someday. I think it’s time we begin to bond with our reptilian neighbors a little better.” “Ambassador? What do you have in mind?” “Honestly, I’d like to see more tourism between our two countries,” the Mane replied. “I’d like us to get to know the Argonians better, and the same for them. We’re always going to be very different, but I think we should begin allying ourselves with them. Together the tailed races of Tamriel can be a pretty powerful force.” “Yes!,” Quill-Weave agreed cheerfully from her bed. “You are a wise Khajiit, Mane. While I am only a speaker for the Hist, I will talk to those on our high councils to see if perhaps we might do the same. It may be that the little embassy you built here in Torval might become occupied on a more permanent basis.” “And who would be my contact back here?” Ra’Jirra asked, warming to the idea. The Mane opened the door and Em stepped into the room. “Welcome back, Ra’Jirra,” he said, and she jumped off the bed and hugged her ex-boss. “Em! Am I to go back to the HMSS?!” He pulled her away gently. “Not exactly, Raj. You are the Khajiitmother, after all, from what I hear. You will report to me. However, I won’t be your superior - you will be the Ambassador to Argonia. Though the rank is new, it is a higher rank than my own, I’ll just be your contact back here in Elsweyr. The Mane will be your direct superior.” “Well, all this is awfully big news, but I certainly accept! Dar’s gonna be shocked, but I think he’ll be happy. Em, can he be assigned to Argonia with me?” “Of course. I’ve already made the arrangements. After your honeymoon of course.” “Oh! I’d forgotten about that.” “I spoke with Dar about it already, Raj. You’ll be travelling incognito. You shouldn’t have any problem from the Dominion. And when you return, you’ll be off to Argonia.”

#argonian #khajiit #the elder scrolls #fanfiction #spy #crossover #prequel adventure #rajirra

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ladyseaheart1668 · 6 years

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Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 9)

Description: Alodia’s reunion with her family has a bit of a rocky start. Aleister, Zahra, and Iris continue to monitor Prescott Industries.

Tagging: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo , @princesstopgun

Chapter 9 : Meet the Family

Jake

The curtains on Alodia's bed diffuse the light as it filters through, softening it even as it rouses me from my sleep. My wife is still curled up in my arms, looking as peaceful and content as I've ever seen her. I can't help sighing happily, but the motion of my chest rouses her. She stretches and turns her face toward me, smiling.

“Good morning, Top Gun.”

“Morning, Princess. Sleep well?”

“Better than I think I have in a long time. ...What time is it?”

“I dunno. There's not really a clock in this little cocoon.”

“Well, there's one on my nightstand, but I don't really feel like emerging from the nest to find it. I'm comfy here.” She plants a kiss on my chest, and then another, her mouth roaming teasingly towards my nipple.

“Yeah. Me too.” I let my hand slide under the waistband of her pajama shorts to cup her bottom. “And I'm getting even more comfy.”

She grins, and I feel one leg hook around mine. She slides on top of me, disappearing under the blanket as she kisses lower down my belly, hooking her fingers under my waistband. I feel myself shudder with anticipation. She giggles playfully.

“Oh, good morning...” she purrs, trailing her fingers along my inner thigh.

“Shit, Princess. If you keep going, I'm never leaving this bed, and I'm totally okay with that.”

“I could keep going.” She slides up to poke her touseled blonde head out from under the blanket and kisses me. “...But I have another idea.”

Every cell in my body protests as she slips off me to push open the bedcurtains, but then she stands and holds a hand out to me. I accept and she pulls me out of bed. Then she goes towards the bathroom with her hips swaying enticingly, pulling off her top. She turns back to wink at me.

“Join me in the shower, Top Gun?”

Nothing in the world could ever make me refuse her. I push down my shorts and kick them off, following her into the bathroom.

* * *

It's about an hour before we finally get dressed and make our way downstairs. Raj has breakfast waiting for us on the table, and Mike and the other Catalysts are already awake.

“Yeah, in case you don't remember, Allie,” Diego says, “the room you stuck me in shares a wall with your bathroom, so don't think I don't know what you were up to this morning.”

“I think everyone knows what they got up to this morning,” Estela quips. “Because it's Jake and Alodia we're talking about.”

“What about Jake and Alodia?” Molly Fisher's voice, deceptively light and pleasant, sends a chill through the dining room. Suddenly, we're all acutely aware that in spite of the lavish décor and the summery air wafting through the palm trees, we're not actually on La Huerta anymore. We're in California, guests of the people who raised our Alodia. Molly and Rob stand in the doorway, eyeing us warily. We eye them back, and I slip my hand into Alodia's. We're not altogether sure what to make of each other yet. But then Alodia looks straight at them, flashing them a sweet smile.

“We had sex, Aunt Molly,” she says lightly. “In my shower. This morning. Loudly. Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't hear.”

I hear an inelegant snort behind me as Quinn chokes back laughter. I bite my cheek to keep from smiling and don't quite succeed. Rob glances at me with a look that all but screams his displeasure, and I feel the smile fade. I've seen that kinda look before on the faces of old girlfriends' fathers, particularly when I was a teenager. Some of them got it because they weren't sure of me, whether I was one of those boys who might go too far with a girl who wasn't ready for sex, or who would generally be irresponsible with sex the way a lot of teenagers are. Some of them were just scared of the idea that their daughters were growing up and looking at boys at all. And some of them were more worried about their own reputations than they were about the girls they were shielding from me. I ain't sure yet which one Rob Fisher is, but from everything Alodia's told me, I'm leaning towards the third. And I don't like it. Molly, however, doesn't look at me. She holds Alodia's gaze, smiling tightly.

“Well. Isn't that something.” She looks over the magnificent spread on the table. “And isn't this lovely. Raj, is this your handiwork?”

“Guilty as charged. Consider it thanks for hosting all of us.”

“That is very considerate of you. But it isn't strictly necessary. We have a chef who does most of our cooking. Though admittedly, she doesn't usually get here for breakfast.”

“Then I volunteer to make breakfast while I'm here,” Raj declares. “Please, everyone sit down. I'll just go heat the syrup for the French toast.”

“We can promise you, you won't be imposing on Raj by letting him make you breakfast,” Quinn assures them as we all take our seats. “He loves to cook. You may have heard of his show, Bhandarkhar Fills Bellies?”

“Ahh, of course I have heard of it. I've never seen it, though. I don't watch a lot of television.” An awkward silence ensues for a moment as Molly looks around at us. “Just...how long can all of you stay for?”

Glances pass between the Catalysts as Raj returns with a gravy boat full of warm syrup. Diego helps himself to a couple pieces of french toast.

“I'm planning to stay at my folks for a week or two while I look for a place around here to rent,” he says. “I'm teaching a course at a college in Costa Mesa this fall, so I was planning to be back here in a month or so anyway. I'm just a little early.”

“Raj and Estela and I weren't planning to stay any longer than a week,” Quinn says. “We just wanted to make sure Alodia got settled in okay.”

“And I was really just here because I dropped everyone off yesterday,” Mike adds. “I can clear out whenever I'm getting to be a nuisance.”

“...I see. What about you, Jake?”

I know what she's really saying. I think everyone in the room knows what she's really saying. And I have to think she understands what I'm really saying when I raise my eyebrow and reply, “What about me?”

“How long are you planning to stay?”

“As long as Alodia plans to stay. Ma'am. I go where she goes.”

They clearly don't like that answer, and I can think of a few reasons why that might be the case, though I'm not sure which it is yet. Maybe they just aren't thrilled by the idea of a stranger romancing their niece under their roof. Maybe they aren't sure of my intentions. Maybe they just don't like me. Which I suppose is not unfair. So far I don't like them much, either.

“...Isn't there anything you need to be getting back to? A job, or...?”

“Nothing that's as important as Alodia. I was working in a bar. I can get another job around here, I'm sure.”

“Look, son, I really don't think--” Rob is cut off by his wife's hand on his arm.

“Robert, please. Let's not be discourteous. Maybe we should hear what Alodia has to say on the matter.”

Alodia puts down her knife and fork to take my hand under the table. “I want him with me,” she answers, calmly but firmly. “But I understand if you don't want him in the house. Say the word, and we'll be packed and cleared out by the afternoon.”

“Alodia!” Rob snaps. “Be reasonable!”

“I am being reasonable. I'm twenty-seven years old, and this is your house. I won't force you to accept my boyfriend's presence, but you can't force me to stay here without him, either.”

“And where will you go? What will you do for money?”

“Unless you've stolen it, I still have that $5000 savings bond from my parents. Not to mention the trust fund that you set up for me when I was born. That would have been available to me two years ago.”

A dangerous hush settles over the table. Everyone has stopped eating, but Molly continues to cut her french toast into smaller and smaller pieces.

“You have been a missing person for five years,” she murmurs.

“Have I been declared legally dead?”

“...No. You have not.”

“And did you steal the savings bond from my parents?”

“Of course not! It should be exactly where you left it five years ago!”

“Well then. I think between us, Jake and I should have enough money to last us a little while until we find work. It would have been more convenient to stop here for a little while, but I'm not going to stay some place Jake isn't welcome.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Molly speaks through gritted teeth. “Of course he is welcome for as long as you want him here.”

“Thank you.”

The meal continues in silence. Finally, Alodia finishes and stands, collecting her dishes. “Can I take anyone's plate?”

“You know there's no need for that,” Molly sighs. “The housekeeper will be here in an hour.”

“It's all right, really. Even if I'm living here for awhile, I don't need to be a mooch.”

I wipe a bit of syrup off my lips and stand beside her. “I'll give you a hand, Princess.” Between us, we gather up the breakfast dishes and carry them back to the kitchen. At the door to the dining room, Alodia pauses, turning to smile over her shoulder at the others.

“Why don't you guys get into your bathing suits? When we're done in the kitchen, I'll give you the grand tour, and by the time we're finished, we'll have digested enough to swim.”

“That sounds like a plan to me,” Quinn says cheerfully.

The moment we're out of the dining room, the smile drops off Alodia's face. In the kitchen, she slips the dishes into the sink with a sigh, practically yanking the tap up to turn it on. I set my pile of plates on the counter and rest a hand on her back.

“...I'm kinda getting the feeling they don't like me,” I murmur. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not sure it's you they don't like,” she sighs. “I think it's this whole situation. ...Maybe it was a little presumptuous of me to just invite everyone back here and assume they'd be okay with you staying.”

“You didn't just invite us, Alodia. You said you didn't want to go with them unless we came with you. And your uncle said that right now you could have anything you wanted.”

“Yeah, but I don't think he was expecting any of you to become permanent guests.” She pulls open the dishwasher and starts loading the dishes in. “It's gotta be awkward for them. They had five years to get used to the idea that I was never coming back. Now suddenly I'm alive and back in their lives.”

I bristle. “Well, you know what? Call me crazy, but I'd think having you alive and healthy would overshadow any inconvenience that having you back in their house causes!” I shove a plate between the prongs like I'm angry with it.

“It's...a little more complicated than that, Jake...”

“What's complicated?! It's not complicated for me, or Diego, or Quinn, or Raj, or Estela, or any of us! Inconvenience can go to hell because you're back, and that's worth everything!”

“It's different for you guys, Jake. You needed me. More than they ever did. ...Maybe they just feel like I'm rubbing their faces in that, refusing to come home with them unless you guys came with me. Maybe they feel slighted.”

“Well, fuck their feelings! You're what should be important right now!”

She smiles a little. “...I love you for jumping to my defense. And...ultimately, I think you're right. But they are human.” She sighs, shrugging. “And hell, maybe you're right that they just don't like you. But honestly, I can't blame them for being just a little suspicious. We knew each other for six months, and five years later, you're not only still calling yourself my boyfriend, but you're sitting in their dining room after meeting them for the first time less than twenty-four hours ago and telling them you go where I go? That's gotta be damned confusing for them.”

I grunt. “Yeah, maybe,” I grudgingly admit. “But I ain't gonna pretend to be less in love with you for their sakes. And I damn sure ain't leaving you unless you tell me to leave.”

She takes me gently by the front of my shirt and kisses me. “I would never ask you to leave or pretend your less in love with me. I'm not going to pretend to be less in love with you, either. They're just going to have to get used to us as we are. Or kick us out. ...We'll give them a little time to decide which it's going to be.”

“Fair enough. And I'll try to be nice to them in the meantime. Promise.”

“Good. Ridiculous as it may be, I kinda want them to like you.”

“It ain't ridiculous. They're your family.”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” she replies. “I know who my real family is. And I know who I'll choose if it ever comes to that.”

Estela

In the guest room where I've been set up, I open my suitcase and dig out my swimsuit. I am hoping Alodia's aunt and uncle won't insist on following us while she gives us a tour of their home. It was uncomfortable enough sitting through that passive-aggressive exchange at breakfast. I would wonder how two people who seem as uptight and closed-off as Molly and Robert Fisher could have raised someone as warm and open and kind as Alodia Chandler, but I suppose I know the answer to that. The Catalysts made Alodia Chandler warm and open and kind before the universe gave her a pair of guardians who were uptight and closed-off. But I am trying not to think of things that way anymore. The new truth is that Alodia is both the daughter of Vaanu, and a complete human in her own right, with a family and a past outside of La Huerta. So I suppose her warmth and openness could be attributed to a combination of nature, and the influence of Diego and his family, who I have been told did more of the raising of her than her legal guardians. It is probably down to them that she did not turn out more like my brother, acerbic and bitter until people came along who drew the kindness at his core to the surface.

I pull a pair of shorts and a T-shirt over my swimsuit and open the door to head back down to the kitchen. Then I hear voices down the hallway that don't belong to any of my friends. I slip my shoes off as I creep down the hall. There is carpeting on the upper level, but I can't risk being heard. The voices are coming from the master bedroom.

“...with her boyfriend living here?” I hear her uncle's voice. “Under our roof?”

“She's twenty-seven, Robert, not a teenager. We can't just forbid her from having a boyfriend or having sex with him.”

“We can forbid it from happening under our roof!”

“Then she'll just go do it under someone else's roof. Or her own roof.”

“Maybe she should! As you reminded me, she is twenty-seven.”

“Rob, please! She's been missing for five years. She went through god-knows-what kind of trauma on that island, and you want to immediately push her out on her own? I know you never liked her, but--”

“Molly, that's not fair...”

“Isn't it?”

“No! It isn't! When she disappeared, wasn't I there pulling every possible string to get her found?! Honestly, I don't want her to leave before she's ready, before she's got a safety net under her! That trust fund isn't going to last forever, I don't want her out of here before she's got a job! But accepting that kid as part of the deal?”

'Kid'? Perhaps it is only because he is the oldest of the Catalysts, but I have a very difficult time thinking of Jake as a 'kid'. I suppose even at thirty years old, he could be considered a kid by someone who must be twenty years his senior at least, but the way he says it makes me think he has formed a decidedly unflattering opinion of Jake.

“What exactly is wrong with him?” Molly sighs. “Is it just the fact that he had sex with our niece?”

“What about the fact that he just quit a job as a goddamn bartender?”

“He's ex-military.” She says it like it's being offered as a consolation prize.

“With a dishonorable discharge.”

“That was eventually reversed because he should not have received it in the first place.”

“Sometime between when Alodia disappeared and when she reappeared.”

“I'm not sure what your point is there.”

“He supposedly hasn't found another girlfriend five years?”

“Maybe he did and broke up with her. Maybe he's just been having casual sex. There are dozens of reasons why he might have been single when Alodia came back.”

“I just don't want some grifter taking advantage of our niece at a time like this.”

“Not everyone who tries to date her is a gold-digger, Robert. And even if this one is, isn't it better we have him under our roof with her where we can look out for her?”

“I just don't want her to end up with someone who can't take care of her.”

I think I've heard enough. Frankly, if I listen to any more, I'm going to get too angry to keep quiet. I creep back down the hall and resume a normal gait at the stairs to the kitchen. One thing is for sure: those stuck-up WASPs in there don't know anything about either their niece or her husband. They've clearly judged Jake unfairly as a deadbeat and a grifter, probably on the basis of his rough appearance, but their assessment of Alodia as some naive, lovestruck schoolgirl who can't handle herself is just as insulting. The worst part is that while I believe they may come around on Jake if they can only see how much he loves Alodia, I have to question whether they will ever see their niece for who she really is; whether they will ever see the strong, fiery, loyal, compassionate young woman who saw through my cold exterior to the human heart of me. It seems strange that the person who touched my life and the lives of all the Catalysts so deeply could have failed to touch the hearts of the people who share her blood. But I suppose that is less a mystery of her strange existence than it is a mystery of all existence. I am no one to talk about blood ties when I rejected the man who sired me while embracing the child he had so carefully crafted to be his heir—a child he later rejected himself.

I am the last one to make it to the kitchen. Alodia grins, clapping her hands. “Great! We're all here! Should we start the tour inside or outside?”

* * *

As they lead us through every flawlessly decorated room, Alodia and Diego share childhood anecdotes that banish the cold, polished aura from the corners, replacing it with warmth and nostalgia. They used to send secret messages to each other through the laundry chute running from the top floor down to the basement, either calling up and down the chute, or dropping handwritten notes from the top floor. They used to play on the balcony and pretend they were on a pirate ship, either as shipmates or captives. Inevitably, the ship would sink and they would run down to throw themselves in the pool, which would cause Diego's mother no end of distress since she had told them a thousand times not to swim without supervision. We end the tour at the terraced back yard, swimming in the in-ground pool. Mike lies back in a louge chair beside the pool, preferring not to reveal his bionic legs or his scars with strangers so nearby. For my part, with Rob and Molly Fisher inside, I start to feel more relaxed. When we gather in a circle and start tossing a colorful beach ball between us, the last of the tension left over from breakfast evaporates.

At first, I don't even notice the angry voices floating out from somewhere in the house. But they're getting louder. Slowly, we all pause in our game, tipping our heads. I'm sure her aunt and uncle are two of those voices, but there seems to be another one mixed in there. …And what's surprising is that they're all speaking Spanish. Diego and Alodia exchange a startled look.

“...Is that...?” Alodia asks.

Diego sighs. “...Yeah. That's my mother.”

Alodia and Diego hastily climb out of the pool and towel off. The rest of us follow suit, following them into the house. A woman who must be Diego's mother is pushing her way past Rob and Molly towards the back door.

“I practically raised that young lady!” she snaps in Spanish. “I can't believe none of you thought to tell me! I had to see it on the news this morning like--”

“Mama!” Diego's voice is firmly placating. “Mama, calm down!”

She stops, her eyes falling to her son. Then they shift a little ways to land on Alodia. She purses her lips.

“...And perhaps, mijo, you can explain why you of all people didn't think to inform me that the girl who grew up as your sister is home safe after five years?”

“We got in late last night,” Diego mumbles, shifting awkwardly. “I didn't think you'd even be awake.”

She grunts, turning back to Alodia. “...Mija...” She opens her arms invitingly. Alodia steps up cautiously.

“...I'm...a little wet...”

“Yes, yes, I see you have been swimming. Clearly that was more important than letting me know you were alive.”

Alodia slips Diego a slightly panicked glance before going to embrace his mother. The older woman immediately dissolves into tears.

“Mija,” she murmurs, stroking Alodia's cornsilk hair, wet and matted with pool water. “Today is the feast of San Antonio. Every year since you disappeared, I have gone to church and prayed for your safe return. I knew you were alive. I just knew it. And today, San Antonio has answered all my prayers.”

“I...didn't know if you...if you even noticed I was gone,” Alodia murmurs back. “I know we didn't exactly part on...easy terms.”

She pulls back. “...You were angry with me because of how I left things with your brother.”

“Yes.”

She looks over at Diego. “...Things are better between us now. Little by little, we are making things right again.”

“...I am glad to hear it, Mama,” Alodia answers softly, then glances around at the rest of us as she switches to English. “Let me introduce our friends: this is Estela, Raj, Quinn, Mike, and my boyfriend, Jake.”

“Your...boyfriend?” She casts a critical eye over Jake, and I can't help rolling my eyes. Clearly it's not just Alodia's WASP family that's going to be disapproving. I can't hold my tongue any longer.

“We can all vouch for him, señora,” I say dryly. “There is no need to worry.”

“...He is so scrawny, mija,” she grumbles in Spanish. “He might have muscles between his skin and bones, but he won't for long if he doesn't start eating.”

Jake clears his throat. “I speak Spanish, señora,” he says in the same. “I spent three years in Costa Rica.”

To her credit, Mrs. Soto looks properly embarrassed, but she quickly shrugs it off. “...Where have you been, mija?”

“Ramona, please! Don't press her on that now!” Molly hisses. “Alodia, darling, may I borrow you for a moment?”

Without waiting for an answer, Molly takes Alodia by the arm, forcibly dragging her away. Immediately, Jake and I step in front of her, glaring.

“Excuse me, where are you taking her?” I ask lowly. Molly looks startled by the sudden human barricade, but surprise is quickly replaced by annoyance.

“Just into the library, Estela,” she snaps. “I would like to speak to my niece privately, if her friends would kindly stop acting as if they are expecting her uncle and me to murder her every time we're left alone with her!”

“Guys...” Alodia says softly, “...Please...”

Jake and I exchange an uncertain glance before stepping aside. Jake is still frowning as Molly pulls Alodia into the library. Mike puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe I should stick around a little longer. I will if you need me to.”

“I appreciate the offer, Mike, but it seems like a bad idea to make ourselves a bigger burden to these people than we need to be. Besides,” he sighs, “at some point, this is going to be something Alodia and I have to face together, just the two of us.”

I purse my lips. “You may ultimately be right. This is your life that the two of you are building together.” I glance at Diego's mother and lower my voice, leaning in. “...But don't ever forget that twelve are one.”

“I promise I never do, Katniss. ...Even if it seems that way sometimes, I never forget.”

Grace

On the second night of my show, I get home a little later than I intend to, and perhaps just a little bit in my cups. At least enough that I don't feel comfortable driving home. Outside our London flat, I hastily pay the cab driver and dash inside, hoping that Aleister isn't too worried. I haven't gotten any frantic calls or texts yet, but that doesn't always mean he hasn't been worrying, at least a little. I pound up the stairs and take a moment to slow down outside the door to avoid waking Reggie as I open the door and step inside. The light is on in the living room. Aleister sits in front of his laptop, frowing at the screen.

“Aleister? Baby, I'm home. Sorry I'm late?”

“Hmm? Oh! Grace...” He frowns, and I see him glancing at the clock on his computer before looking back up at me. “Heavens, I didn't even realize how late it was. Come kiss me, my darling.”

I do as he tells me, but I'm not too tipsy to be worried by his obvious distraction. “Is everything okay? Where's Reggie?”

“He's asleep,” he taps the baby monitor on the desk beside him. “I've been keeping an ear open. ...I've just been looking over some of the reports Zahra sent me.”

“...About the Prism Gate?”

He sighs. “For five years, her reports have all been about potential data breeches that she's already prevented...improvements to our security systems. It's shocking to suddenly be thinking about extra-dimensional crystals again.”

“What does she say?”

“Well, Prescott Industries has reopened, but we all knew that. But there's also some old information on the Prism Gate project. It's heavily redacted with some kind of code that Zahra is still trying to unscramble, but it does seem that Silas Prescott knew nothing of how deep La Huerta's mysteries ran, much less the Endless. It seems he largely believed my father was unaware of the island's unique properties. I suppose even after the trial and Father's yelping about 'crystal people', with the island closed off, Silas must have figured he had a crystal of his own and there was no need to throw himself against the barrier to comb it for more. Not that he would have found anything. I think that should keep the Vaanti safe for now at least. I just hope Alodia's return doesn't attract too much of his attention.”

“I think that might depend on his goal. Does it say anything about that?”

“There is a lot about unlocking the crystal's 'true potential'. Maybe he does simply mean to create a clean, renewable energy source.” He frowns thoughtfully. “And perhaps the crystal could be used that way...”

“Well, I hope that's all he's after. If he learns about the crystal's origins beyond La Huerta...”

“I know, I know. Even with Vaanu departed and the island closed, it still puts the Vaanti in a vulnerable position. Not to mention Alodia. Or any of us, really, if he decides we might know more than we let on.” He sighs, keeping one arm around my waist as he studies the computer screen. “There also appears to have been a break-in at the Prescott Industries lab. It's a report that was buried quite deep behind layers of security, but there is not much that can escape Zahra and Iris. ...It...isn't really clear what was taken or indeed if anything was taken...”

I bend to kiss his cheek. “You know, sugar, there's only so much you can do in one night, and the pair of us lose enough sleep as it is. Come to bed with me, okay? It's only 7:30pm in Northbridge. Zahra will probably have more for you when you wake up.”

“I expect you are right. And in my present state, I would probably miss some vital...” He trails off, frowning. “...What's this...?”

“Huh?” I frown at the screen, but my exhaustion and slight intoxication make the text blur before my eyes. “What's what?”

“...Financial records. ...It...seems Prescott Industries received a substantial grant from Mansingh Global...”

“My mom's company? ...Rourke International has received grants from her, too, right?”

“Indeed. ...It seems she is hedging her bets. I suppose we should be grateful she didn't withdraw her support after my father's imprisonment.”

“You impressed her,” I reply proudly. Even my own frustrations with my mother's worldview and behavior aren't enough to overcome the pride that swells in me when I think of that. “You and Estela. You intrigue her, and she wants to remain an investor because she thinks the two of you can take the company to new heights.”

“New heights that do not involve exploiting aliens trapped on earth or the human children they will into being, or the superhuman race that evolved after being exposed to alien tree sap.” He frowns thoughtfully. “...I wonder if the crystal might behave similarly to the sap...? And that might be why certain people exposed to it have developed superhuman abilities?”

“It's possible. The Vaanti became what they are by ingesting the sap, but Quinn got her powers simply by having half the Island's Heart in contact with her body for an extended period of time...” I sigh. “But it's too late to think too hard about it. Come to bed.”

I take his arm and tug insistantly toward the bedroom. Sighing, he closes the laptop and rises, smiling. “Very well, my dear. You know I cannot disobey you.”

I laugh. “No, you cannot.”

I look back and see him making a face. “My father is institutionalized, my mother is a hologram, and your mother is...”

“...My mother.” I finish, not needing to say more.

“Poor Reginald has only one suitable grandparent, and an aunt whom we love, but whose business is something I would much rather keep him out of. We really ought to make it a habit to see more of your father. For our son’s sake.”

“You’re right. Especially as he gets older. It will be nice for him to know that there is someone in his extended family who leads a simple life.”

#Endless Summer #playchoices #pixelberry choices #choices stories you play #Diego Ricardo Ortiz Soto #Jake McKenzie #sean gayle #raj bhandarkar #aleister rourke #Craig Hsiao #zahra namazi #grace hall #estela montoya #michelle nguyen #quinn kelly

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