#she finds out he as a spare set of keys and beard is thrown out of her house

[coachbeards]

I AM NOT SAYING JANE WAS AT ALL RIGHT but if i saw my boyfriend hanging out w his boy best friend looking like a housewife…I’d have some concerns lmao

[theinfamousdoctorf]

So I’m finally back...

 Those few who know me personally will be aware that me and @theoverworldqueen have purchased a small rural house together. <3 It’s taken the better part of a year to make it happen and several months apart while I negotiated a transfer with my job and she logged work history in the place we were moving too for the mortgage requirements. [So we were apart for several more months then we‘d planned on. ;_: ]

 It took me almost two months to pack our household by myself, and several days to actually load the truck. The ‘friends’ who had promised to help us move faded away when they were actually needed, and I had to utilize some local kids who received cash and some friendly neighbors who were paid in furniture [that didn’t fit in the truck] and booze.

  When the day came to actually leave, I still had no volunteers to drive the truck because none of my friends could get time off work. [I had to drive my car with our eight cats inside.] The only people available to help were my parents.

The exact people I was moving to get the fuck away from.

 My mother refused to do any driving because the big truck was ‘too scary’. My pathetic excuse for a father, [from here on called jackass], would be doing all of the driving. Despite the fact that he’d just had several toes removed for diabetic reasons. My mother planned the route, later I realized she not only planned it with a paper atlas rather then choosing the fastest route via Google, [because she didn’t know how to use the app and wouldn’t ask for help] but also planned a very circuitous route in a vain attempt to avoid driving through any mountains. [Because they are also just too scary.]  So we start driving. A 26 foot Budget rental truck with a small horse trailer on it, and my car with me and the cats. Before we even got out of Texas, the horse trailer hit a bump and lost a wheel. It was then dragged about a mile while throwing an ocean of sparks where the metal edge was grinding against the asphalt. This was because it happened on a narrow highway with no breakdown lane. I barely managed to avoid getting hit with the wheel that flew off as well. We sat in a parking lot all night waiting for a tow driver who basically told us the king nut flew off and it was totaled. I had a partial mental breakdown and had to abandon most of the things I’d packed into the trailer. The truck was already stuffed up to the door and what little I saved was jammed in my car and thrown on top of everything else in the truck.   The cats were riding in a pair of pop-up zippered tents and were pretty mad by this point. My car stank of piss and fear pheromones.

 And then we drove, and drove and drove. Keep in mind that my destination was Washington state and I was coming from Galveston TX. It should have been a 2 and a half day drive with a stop to sleep each night. Around the third day I demanded to see the map and realized she had sent us across the widest part of Texas and New Mexico before turning north. There was a lot of arguing. Especially because I realized jackass was a terrible driver. So I had no choice but to watch helplessly as this colossal asshole drove a truck rented in my name, with nearly all my worldly goods inside, over every fucking curb, bumping it up and down and weaving all over the road. He hit a call box outside a Jack in the Box, he scraped a parked truck, he hit signs at more then one gas station and skirted far too close to the pumps with the back end of the truck. I went beyond the reasonable limits of human stress.

 The cats destroyed the zippers on the carriers and I was forced to just let them roam the car. First panting in the heat and then huddled freezing as we got further north. [I had them all in little safety vests and that kept them mostly calm, pro tip.]  On the fourth night jackass drove into a truck stop and then behind it. Up an unlit dirt road that said ‘dangerous blasting area authorized access only’. He then turned around several times and went back down to the truck stop where I blocked him with my car. He and my mother were having a screaming match because he wouldn’t explain what he was doing or why and wouldn’t stop doing donuts in the restricted area when she told him too.  I lost my shit. I screamed in his face and when he didn’t respond, I grabbed his horrible scraggy beard and then his throat and repeated myself. I took the keys and went to try and get some sleep in my car. [With so many animals in tow I couldn’t get a hotel room and really couldn’t leave the car unattended at all. So I hadn’t been able to properly shower in days. Plus I’d forgotten to bring a spare pair of shoes and my sandaled feet were red and freezing.]  The bastard has always tried to make my mother choose between me and him. He’s a psychotic manic depressive on a whole rainbow of medications. He’s a misogynist who really wanted a son, plus a racist and generally stingy and awful person. A running argument revolved around his insistence on cutting my lawn three times a week with the mower blade on the lowest setting so he was just killing anything green and kicking up dust. [My mother is pure enabler, always apologizing for his terrible behavior and gaslighting me like I’m over reacting.] He’s literally alienated so many people where I was living that I’ve lost out on jobs because he insists that I’m the terrible one and trash-talks me to everyone he meets.  So we finally get back on the road.

 In Wyoming I tried to get some sleep at a rest stop and someone hit my car and busted out a tail light. Several times we almost run out of gas because her planned route avoided any cities in case there was traffic. At this point I have a massive rash under my bra and just take it off.

 On the fifth night we arrive in a gas station in Idaho. I go to pee and come back outside to find jackass laying on the ground with three people hovering over him. I inform my mother that he fell and go back to my car. So emotionally dead at this point I don’t feel anything. 

 I am informed that jackass has broken his hip.

 I’ve spent most of my life praying for him to die, so that part doesn’t touch me. The part that ripped my heart out was that my mother told me that I’m now ‘on my own’. She is going to the hospital with him. She left me in a freezing parking lot with eight cats in a car and a giant moving truck with all my things in it.  Terrified and heartbroken I call my girlfriend Lie. She is eight hours away and leaving now to come rescue me. She’s bringing our friend Ashley as well. So I huddle in the car with the cats and try to sleep. After several hours I get a text from my mother telling me to bring her luggage and such to the hospital. At this point I’m furious. I tell her I will not do that. She says I will. I stop responding.  In the morning my rescuers arrive and we begin the long final limp over the mountains.  I get several more messages threatening me, trying to shame me for just ‘moving on without them’ and ‘not caring if your father dies’.  I was instructed to deal with my own problems like an adult. So that’s what I did. At that point the rental truck needed to be returned and I hadn’t even arrived yet. My job was waiting on me to show up the next day for orientation, and she’d basically wasted all the time I’d budgeted for unloading the truck. There was no way in hell I was going anywhere to give either of them anything.

 But we did finally get here. The Budget guy sent me his ex-wife who happily took some cash in exchange for unloading the truck with me, and we finally got rid of the thing. Unfortunately my car overheated from all the punishment it took and it’s currently non-functional. My job gave me a little extension so I’m using the time to get our household set up again.  My Etsy shop [https://www.etsy.com/shop/PatchworkLaboratory ] is still on vacation for the moment because the previous tenant didn’t like mail and just didn’t have a mailbox, but it should be up and running again soon. My other site is still good though if you’d like some funky cloth and want to throw a few dollars towards me fixing my car. [ https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/infamousdoctorf] I’ve got a paypal attached to nightshade518@yahoo.com as well. It’s going to be hard financially to keep all the bills paid, but I just couldn’t stand being near my abusive family anymore.

In conclusion. Take your giant cockroaches, fire ants, heat waves, and hurricanes; and go fuck yourself Galveston. Have fun with my awful relatives.

WA is home.

[singledarkshade]

Sapphire And Steel

Summary: When Detective Rip Hunter is given the task of tracking down the notorious jewel thieves Sapphire and Steel he has no idea how it's going to take over his life. All he wants is to put them in jail while they want to play with him. In more ways than one. Author’s Note: This was a small idea I had that started out as a quick fic that suddenly blossomed into a much longer fic. There will be some sex scenes later on and I apologise now because I'm not great at writing those types of scenes. Anyway, hope you enjoy and more will be up soon as I have a few chapters already written.                                 ********************************************* Part One The envelope sat on the breakfast bar when Sara walked into the kitchen. It had Rip’s name on it in neat script but was still sealed.

“Aren’t you going to open your mail?” she asked the man standing washing dishes.

Rip glanced over at her, “No.”

Rolling her eyes, Sara picked up the dishtowel and started to dry for him. It was never intentional for her to live with Rip. When she moved to Central City, her dad had asked Rip to keep an eye out for her, which he did. They met up for coffee every so often and she knew he would always be there if she needed help. Then the moron above her managed to flood Sara’s crappy apartment making it even more crappy. Rip had a spare room which he’d offered to let her use and Sara had now been staying in it for the past three months. Even though her apartment had now been fixed.

“Why aren’t you opening the letter?” Sara demanded after several minutes, “You’re a cop. I thought that came with an inability not to snoop into everyone’s business.”

Rip levelled an annoyed stare at her, which never worked since she had grown up with a cop who could do the same glare.

“I already know who it’s from,” Rip replied, “And I am not going to give them the satisfaction.”

Sara frowned confused.

They continued doing the dishes in silence for several minutes before Sara let out an annoyed cry.

“Who sent the letter?”

Rip shrugged, “It’s one of my cases.”

Sara rolled her eyes, “Rip, come on give me some actual information because this is making me more curious.”

Finishing the final plate, Rip dried his hands and picked up the envelope handing it to Sara.

“Open it.”

Confused, Sara used the knife she was holding and sliced open the envelope before pulling out a Christmas card with two penguins kissing under the mistletoe. At the cute cheery card Sara became even more bemused. Opening it she read the message;

Detective Rip Hunter, Merry Christmas, Looking forward to playing with you, Sapphire & Steel

“Who the hell are ‘Sapphire and Steel’?” she asked bemused.

Rip sighed, plucking the card out her hands and tossing it onto the breakfast bar.

“They are my latest case,” Rip told her.

Sara’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, “Do you want to run that past me again? I know Dad never got Christmas cards from the criminals he was chasing.”

Rip opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing Sara one before opening his own. Taking a long drink, he leaned against the counter.

“Sapphire and Steel are the nicknames two jewel thieves have somehow become known as,” Rip explained, “They’re notorious and have managed to avoid being caught for years. I was handed the case when Detective Perkins retired. I’m the third lead detective on the case.”

Sara mused on this, “Okay.”

“He told me that they liked to send him cards at Christmas and on his birthday,” Rip continued, “Their way of letting him know they’re out there.”

“So, they’re telling you they know you’ve taken over the case,” Sara chuckled.

Rip nodded, “Precisely. And I’m not playing.”

 Christmas went by quietly but on New Year’s Eve, Rip arrived home from the station to find a box addressed to him waiting on his doorstep. Knowing exactly who had sent it to him, Rip opened the bin sitting at the side of the building and dropped it in.

Smiling he headed inside to change for the party he was going to, but it was New Year and Rip had promised his girlfriend he’d go. It was quiet in the house with Sara home in Star City for the holidays. Despite reluctantly letting her use his spare room after the apartment disaster, he’d become used to her presence. It turned out that Sara was a good roommate to have since she had grown up with a cop, so understood his shifts. They communicated mostly via text or notes as they were rarely in the house at the same time. When their paths did cross, they didn’t get in each other’s way and got along fairly well. They also both ensured there was always food in the fridge and made sure the house was always clean.

Jumping in the shower, Rip closed his eyes as the water cascaded down over him before quickly washing. Shutting off the water he grabbed a towel and headed into his room to get dressed pulling on the black denims and light blue shirt he’d set out.

Hearing his phone buzz in the other room, Rip frowned when he passed the box that he’d just thrown out sitting on the dining room table.

“What?” he answered his phone sharply.

“It’s me,” Caitlin said, “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Sorry,” Rip winced, “Just…never mind. Is there something wrong?”

“No,” she assured him, “I’m just calling to let you know you don’t need to pick me up. Cisco is going to give me a lift, so I’ll see you there.”

“Okay,” Rip replied, “I’ve got the wine and I’m almost ready to head out the door.”

“Of course you are,” Caitlin laughed, “I’ll see you soon.”

Hanging up Rip frowned at the box sitting on the table. This meant that not only were they watching him, but they’d been in his house.

Perkins had warned him, but only about cards never presents. Grabbing the bottle of wine for the party, Rip decided he was not letting them get to him and ignored the box. He’d bin it again when he got home.

  “He’s not opening our present,” Gideon gave an exaggerated pout.

Miranda laughed as they watched the detective in charge of finding them leave his house, dressed nicely carrying a bottle of wine.

“He will,” Miranda assured her, “Give him time and he’ll get curious about what we’re sending him. All cops are the same.”

Gideon watched Detective Rip Hunter climb into his car and leave the driveway before turning to her partner, “Are we putting the cameras in now?”

Miranda grinned at her, “Yes,” at Gideon’s smile, Miranda kissed her, “He’s far enough away. Let’s go.”

Sliding out the car, Miranda waited for Gideon to disable the alarm system before opening the door. For a cop it had been surprisingly easy to get a copy of his keys. Walking into the house, Miranda looked around thoughtfully.

“Neat freak,” she mused, “How like a cop.” Turning to Gideon she grinned, “Let’s do this.”

It took them about ten minutes to set up Gideon’s surveillance system. They then wandered through the house looking through all of Rip’s things. Studying the man who taken over from Perkins, so they had all the information they needed.

“He’s going to be gone for a while,” Gideon said with a seductive smile, leaning against his bedroom door, “We could…”

“No,” Miranda cut her off, “We’re not leaving any evidence we were here.”

“Spoilsport,” Gideon pouted.

Miranda wrapped her arms around Gideon, “We’re going to have a lot of fun with him. Don’t get overexcited.”

Chuckling Gideon lifted the picture they’d found of their new friend, “He is nice to look at. Don’t you think?”

“He is,” Miranda agreed studying the photo, “His eyes are kind, he looks as intelligent as the reports say and I like the beard. The last two were so clean shaven, they didn’t fit the rugged detective look.”

“I wouldn’t kick him out of bed,” Gideon said.

Miranda’s eyes lit up with an idea

Gideon asked, “What?”

“Miller was gay, Perkins married and…” she grimaced, “Old.” Studying the photo again, Miranda smirked, “Are you following my train of thought?”

Gideon grinned, “Definitely,” she sighed musing, “We can have a lot of fun with him.”

Miranda chuckled, “And we’re going to. But….”

“There’s always a but,” Gideon sighed.

“Finesse, darling,” Miranda reminded her sliding arms around Gideon, “If we push too hard at the beginning he’ll break quickly. We watch and play with him a little first before getting to the real fun stuff.”

Gideon smiled mischievously.

“Miller quit and Perkins retired,” Miranda reminded her, “Neither got anywhere near us. Let’s see how well Hunter will do.”

                                  *********************************************

  Caitlin smiled amused when Rip slid into the seat across from her after he gave her a quick kiss hello, “Only ten minutes late. That has to be a personal record.”

Rolling his eyes, Rip picked up his menu, “I did warn you when we started seeing each other that these things happen.”

“Should I ask what actually happened to make you late?” Caitlin said, “Or will I get the reply ‘police business’ as always?”

At her teasing he smiled, “Just had to finish some paperwork before Captain Singh decided to demote me to traffic duty.”

Caitlin shrugged slightly, “At least you’d have a proper workday.”

“Wasn’t I the one waiting for two hours last month when you had to finish an experiment?” Rip asked teasingly.

“Now that was an extremely important experiment,” Caitlin replied with the hint of a smile.

Their waiter arrived and they ordered their meals, Rip taking a drink of wine Caitlin had ordered for them. They’d been seeing each other for about six months now. Neither were looking for a relationship at the time, and both were initially reluctant to start anything considering how much time their jobs took up. But Cisco, who had introduced them, just rolled his eyes and told them to not be stupid.

Rip was glad they had started dating, Caitlin was sweet, smart, they had similar interests and he always had fun when he was with her.

  “Do you think she’s right for him?” Gideon asked as she and Miranda sat in a nearby booth watching their Detective with the woman he was dating.

Miranda sipped her wine, “I think she seems intelligent and kind. I don’t think it will last but she’s fine for now.”

Gideon chuckled, “I like her. It’s a pity we’re going to ruin their date night. But I suppose we can make it up to him in some way.”

Miranda motioned the nearby waitress over and paid their cheque. As they were getting ready to leave, a smile touched Miranda’s face.

“What are you thinking?” Gideon asked at the mischievous look.

“I have an idea,” she said, “Wait for me in the car.”

Gideon nodded, brushing her lips against Miranda’s before she left the restaurant, taking a quick look back at their detective who was obliviously having dinner with his girlfriend. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she waited for Miranda to appear.

“Well?” she demanded the moment the other woman was in the car.

“I arranged for a bottle wine to be delivered to the table just before he gets the call about our latest escapade,” Miranda smirked.

Gideon laughed, “I love it. Let’s go and pick up my new necklace.”

  Rip chuckled as Caitlin finished the story about one of her co-workers while they waited for their dessert.

“Sir,” a waiter arrived with a bottle of wine making Rip frown.

“We didn’t order another bottle,” Rip told him.

The man nodded, “A lady sent it earlier tonight with her compliments for your dessert. Said you would know who it came from.”

Before he could answer, Rip’s phone buzzed at his side. Automatically glancing down he saw the alert about the robbery and the wine suddenly made sense.

“We don’t want it,” Rip stated coldly before turning to Caitlin, “I have to go. There’s been a robbery.”

She nodded, “Do you want me to bring dessert to yours?”

Rip sighed, “As tempting as that sounds, this could take a long time. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He leaned over to kiss her goodbye stopping when she caught his hand.

“Rip, you can tell me what that was with the wine,” she reminded him.

Giving her a small smile and a quick kiss, he nodded, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Cisco?” Rip called as he walked into the jewellery store, “What do we have?”

“Lock was picked, CCTV was turned off,” Cisco Ramon, the CCPD’s tech and cyber genius listed appearing at Rip’s side, “Safe was hacked and they got away with a tidy sum in uncut diamonds, some earrings, a few watches and a sapphire necklace that was being cleaned for the exceedingly wealthy Mrs Worthington which I have been told, repeatedly by the manager, is worth a fortune.”

“It was Coburn and Ryder,” Rip told him.

Cisco frowned, “How do you know by simply walking in the door? Are you psychic now?”

At the amused question Rip rolled his eyes. “They let me know at dinner.”

Confusion filled the younger man’s eyes, “I thought you and Caitlin…”

“We were,” Rip grimaced, “We were waiting for dessert when a bottle of wine was brought over from a woman who said I’d know who sent it. Then I got your message about the robbery.”

Cisco let out a whistle, “They…”

“Okay, let’s get to work,” Rip said determinedly, “I’m going to catch those two and throw away the key.”

[sml8180]

Shot at Redemption - 02

A New Day

The night hadn’t been as bad as Rose had anticipated. She’d found a small cabin out in the woods that seemed to have been ransacked and abandoned, and she’d stayed there overnight after finding nobody inside. It didn’t seem like anyone had been in there for some time, considering the general lack of anything inside. There had been a pile of basic furniture outside when she’d arrived, but much of it was damaged and of no use to her. Despite that, it was still better than sleeping out in the woods, where who knows what could’ve gotten to her. The sleep wasn’t bad, considering she’d hardly slept most of the last week. Waking late in the day to noise outside the cabin, all Rose could think to do was hold her breath and pull out the 1911 she kept in her bag for emergencies. She stood up from the makeshift bed she’d set up on the floor, and made her way to one of the windows, tucking the gun into the waist of her pants to keep it out of view.

Outside the window, the small woman caught sight of someone who had just passed by. She only spotted the back portion of the person’s hat, having missed their face. A moment later, there was a knock at the door, and a male voice calling from outside for her to open up. With slow and quiet steps, Rose made her way to the door, picking up a beanie from her bag and pulling it on over her hair. With a quick check through the window in the door, she opened it up, ready to draw her 1911 if need be.

“Well, looks like someone’s out here, after all. Name’s Earl Whitehorse, I’m the Sheriff here for Hope County.” The man Rose found on the other side of the door was friendly enough as he introduced himself. “Sorry to disturb you, miss, just passing through, checking in. Are you here alone?”

“Yeah, I’m alone,” Rose confirmed with a nod. She tried to seem unconcerned as she leaned against the doorframe. “I appreciate the concern, Sheriff.”

“Just doing my job. With the Peggies starting to act out more, gotta make sure everyone’s safe, and this cabin’s pretty close to the compound.” The Sheriff sounded concerned for Rose, despite not knowing her. “I’d suggest getting somewhere farther out, but it’s your decision. If you stay, just keep an eye out,” he warned.

Rose gave him a nod, “Of course. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Whitehorse gave her a friendly smile and nod, bidding her a good day before he stepped away from the door, turning to leave. Once he was out of sight, Rose let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The encounter had gone far better than she’d expected, and he hadn’t even hinted at any form of recognition of her face. The small woman let herself slump against the doorframe with a sigh, looking out at the woods that surrounded the cabin. She could look through what furniture was out by the path, bring in what wasn’t broken and set up a sort of home base for herself, now that she wasn’t so exhausted. First, though, she needed something to eat. She hadn’t wanted to go into what little she’d kept in her backpack, but she didn’t have much of a choice, now. Not eating for as long as she had wasn’t exactly a good thing.

Heading back inside, Rose knelt by her bag, pulling out a change of clothes and a granola bar. It was small, but still better than nothing. She opened the wrapper and took a bite, starting to think over what she’d need to make this place a bit more livable. The first thing to come to mind was a bed; even just a mattress would be better than sleeping on the floor again. Next, maybe a table and a chair, and finally a radio of some kind. Even though it wasn’t much, it would still likely take her most of the day to get it all together, depending on what she could salvage from the pile outside. After finishing her bar, Rose got up and went to see if she could get cleaned up a bit. Surprisingly, the cabin did have running water, even if it was on the cold side, it wasn’t ice cold, and it was certainly better than nothing. She washed up quickly, and got changed into her spare clothes, before brushing out her hair and braiding it into a set of pigtails to keep it out of the way.

At this point, Rose almost regretted ditching her phone somewhere along the highway. Even though there was probably no signal out here, she’d had music downloaded onto the damn thing. The near silence of the woods was getting to her as she picked through the furniture that had once been inside the cabin. The mattress had been thrown on top of the pile, and it was in surprisingly good shape. She’d gotten lucky, it probably hadn’t rained since it was put out, so it wasn’t ruined by the water. It took some time, despite being fairly strong, Rose wasn’t exactly big by any means, which made dragging the mattress off the pile and inside anything but easy. After a good hour or so, Rose got it inside and where she wanted it.

Following a short breather, the woman got back to work, finding a table and a couple of chairs, pulling them inside. She set up the chairs and table, putting them in one of the corners of the cabin. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something to feel a little like a home. There was no telling how long she’d be staying here, but Rose honestly hoped that it wouldn’t be just a week or two, like everywhere else she’d stayed lately. The only thing she hadn’t been able to find was a radio. The one outside was broken, having likely been thrown from the doorway. Maybe she could find a handheld radio somewhere. With that idea, she started to look through the drawers built into the counter in the small kitchen space. She found some utensils, various odds and ends, and almost miraculously, she found a small handheld radio shoved to the back of one of the drawers. The batteries seemed good when she tested it out, bringing a smile to Rose’s face. It was a small victory, but a victory all the same.

Further exploration of the small cabin lead Rose to find a couple of fishing poles and a tackle box, and determined how she’d be spending her afternoon. The cabin wasn’t far from a river where she could likely catch something for dinner, and so she gathered up what she would need, tucked her 1911 into the shoulder holster she’d put on under her flannel, and started out towards the water. It was calm down by the river, and it reminded Rose of her childhood back in Maine. She’d learned how to fish when she was young, and though she hadn’t been able to fish in years, she was sure that she could still remember what she was doing. After a couple of failed casts, and a good amount of Rose cursing under her breath, she finally managed to get her line far enough out. She took a seat on a large rock beside her, and settled in to wait for something to bite.

The initial wait wasn’t as long as Rose had anticipated, though the result was only a small 4-inch catch. Despite the things she’d done before coming to Hope County, the woman did have standards, and she quickly released the small fish back into the water, resetting her line and trying again. The next few bites weren’t much better; a couple more small fish, and one that broke her line. With a “Fuck you” in the general direction of the fish that broke her line, Rose sighed and reset with a new hook. By now, it was late afternoon, so she’d only have time for one or two more casts before she had to start heading back. After casting her line out once more, and settling on her rock, she waited, looking up and down the coast to pass the time.

Not too far up the coast to her left, Rose spotted a group of people gathered around, looking much like the one she’d encountered yesterday. This time, though, it didn’t seem to be the same man speaking to them. Whoever it was, he was standing in the water, arms outstretched and taking hold of one of the others who approached him, guiding them to his side. A moment passed, before the person was guided underwater and held there while the man seemed to speak, before he pulled them back up, seemingly gasping for breath. Rose watched as the drenched person walked back up to the shore, and another came down, the cycle repeating.

“Just some kind of baptism. You do you, people, you do you,” Rose turned away from the sight, mumbling to herself. She didn’t believe in God, or anything like that. She didn’t discount those who did, she could be wrong after all, but she didn’t think the idea held much water.

Waiting until she got a bite, Rose softly hummed to herself, not paying the baptism going on any mind, and not even noticing when they all left, aside from the man who’d been leading it. When she finally felt a tug at her line, the small woman acted fast, cursing under her breath as the fish fought her. A few pulls, reeling the fish in and letting it take the line out, she slowly got it to her, close enough to get it out of the water. Finally, she’d gotten something she could work with. During her efforts to pull the fish in, Rose hadn’t even noticed the baptist from earlier approaching her, until he finally said something.

“A nice catch, as my brother would likely say.” The sudden sound of a man’s voice behind her made Rose turn quickly, stumbling on the rocks under her feet. The speaker reached forward, grabbing her arm to catch the small woman before she fell into the water.

“Sneaking up on people like that is kind of a dick move, you know?” Rose looked up at the man, taking in his features. Like the man she’d encountered yesterday, he didn’t seem to be a threat. His hair was short, brown and slicked back, and he had more of a beard than the other man, with bright blue eyes. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, and under the key he had dangling around his neck, there was a series of scars that spelled out the word “Sloth”. The sleeves of his blue shirt were rolled to his elbows, and she could see the numerous tattoos he had on his forearms. She wasn’t going to lie to herself, visually speaking, the man was attractive.

“Joseph said he encountered a blunt traveler yesterday. Seems I’ve had the luck to run into you, now, as well,” his voice was smooth as he spoke. To Rose, he sounded like he could have been a lawyer at some point.

“Joseph?” Rose focused on the name. So that must have been the man she’d listened to yesterday. The name fit him, honestly.

“My brother, the Father.” The man in front of her specified the person he was talking about, though it did little to help Rose. He stepped back, letting Rose get her footing back. “My name is John.”

“Your brother’s a preacher, and you’re a baptist?” Rose hadn’t originally intended to ask this aloud, but once she realized she’d said it, it was too late.

“You could say that.”

“Well, that’s certainly interesting. Good for you two. But, before you try to offer anything, I’m not interested. Like I told your brother, you can believe what you want, but personally, I don’t believe God exists, and you’ll have a hell of a time trying to change my mind.” Rose’s words were blunt, to say the least. They weren’t as bitter as they had been when she’d spoken to Joseph, but they certainly didn’t leave much room for argument. The small woman gathered her things and started to walk back towards her cabin.

“Could I at least know your name?” John called after her, not bothering to mention her blunt words.

“What would you give to your lover on Valentine’s?” Of course she wasn’t going to give him a straight answer. For Rose, that just wasn’t how she rolled.

John stood in silence for a second, almost seeming surprised at the woman’s response. Most would have just given him a name, but this woman was clearly different. He thought for a second, before calling after her, putting the pieces together, “Rose?”

Rose gave a soft laugh, looking over her shoulder at the man. “You’re a smart one, John.” With that, she turned back, heading to her cabin to prepare the fish she’d caught.

Dinner and the rest of the evening went by without much to speak of. Rose was glad that there were a handful of magazines that held information on how to prepare a fresh catch, because in that department, she’d been clueless. It had taken her time, but in the end, she’d had a good dinner for the first time in weeks. As she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling of the cabin, all Rose could think of was John and Joseph. The baptist and preacher brothers who probably worked together. Joseph’s words from the previous day still echoed in her head, but she shook them away. There wasn’t any such thing as God, and even if there was, she sure as hell wouldn’t be in good standing with them. As sleep finally started to take her, the last thing she could think about were John’s tattoos, and his eyes, and the scars across his chest.

Taglist: @deputyoneill @johnseedthot @deputyshitlordsantana @jacobsmusicbox @farcrying5 @johnseedsplane @rookieseed

[forkanna]

Trigger warning for gross male behaviour and attempted sexual assault. And continuing racism.

And yes, I know it's a dumb thing to throw in a Back To The Future easter egg when that has nothing to do with the Wizard of Oz. Leave me alone and let me have my fun! I had always intended to have something like this happen in this chapter, but seeing the #MeToo stories after Harvey Weinstein was accused (yes, it was written that long ago) made me feel it was necessary to make sure it was part of the fic, to not just gloss over it. Writing these kind of scenes is always very tricky, especially to make them real and graphic enough to make an impression on the reader without making it seem like I enjoyed writing them. I don't, didn't, and can't. Hopefully this hits the intended note.

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

"I said, wake up, girl!"

The word "up" had been punctuated by a slap across her face. Elphaba jerked up, eyes fluttering as she tried to shrug off the disorientation.

She was in some sort of office. The trimmings were bare and grubby, and a wooden desk was off to one side of her, laden down with papers and assorted odds and ends. Much more of interest to her were the two men, wearing some sort of domed helmets with emblems on the front of them, and blue button-up shirts with stars over the left breast. One had a handlebar moustache, curling up at the ends; the other a full beard.

"She's comin' 'round," one of them muttered. Her eyes were still a bit blurry to focus fully on which had spoken.

"Wha… where am I? Munchkinland?" The blue was her only hint so far.

"Police station," the bearded one said shortly.

"You're in a heap o' trouble, missy," the other one chuckled. "What 'n the Sam Hill d'you think you was gonna do with that poor li'l girl? Or don't I wanna know the answer?"

Now her brain was beginning to demystify, and she sat up a little straighter. "Me? What are you doing with her? Drugged up so badly she can barely move, she can't control her bladder! It's disgraceful!"

A hand reached up to fist in her hair, drawing her head back. Elphaba felt her heart drop, pain flare along her roots, but she kept her eyes narrowed and stabbing up into his all the while. "What you say to me, negro? I oughtta-"

"Jeb," the other man sighed warningly. A half-second later, Jeb sat back and released her, and he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling before he said flatly, "Y'know you ain't supposed to be in there. Staff only, and that don't mean cleanin' girls."

"It seems to me that you should be asking why a perfectly normal girl has been shocked, and beaten, and given medicine that she doesn't need," Elphaba snapped immediately. She saw Jeb straining to react, but he seemed to remember the other man's warning and restrained himself.

"Ain't your business, y'hear? An' what were you tryin' to do with all that in the pack?"

When Elphaba didn't respond right away, not sure she should, Jeb stood and retrieved said pack. Inside were her spare dresses and the fruit. "Ain't never seen no dress like these before. You straight from one o' them boats, come to America?"

"Excuse me?" Not that she knew what an America was.

"Maybe she ain't coloured in the same way," the bearded man mused, stroking it as he thought. "Could be an Injun girl. Skin ain't dark enough."

"Is that what this is about? My skin tone?" That was the most absurd thing she had ever heard. She'd finally gotten rid of that absurd green hue, and it still wasn't good enough for these uniformed hooligans! And her current colouring was perfectly normal! Some people just wanted to find something to fight about, no matter how preposterous.

"Hush up," Jeb snapped. Then he leaned a little further forward. "Seems to us you was about to kidnap that poor filly. Don't know what a coloured girl wants with a white girl, 'cept to sell 'er off."

She moved to fold her arms over her chest, and only then did she feel metal enclosing her wrists and keeping them behind her back. The metal was warm by now, which might have been why she didn't notice right away. "You- those are my things. Didn't have a thing to do with Dorothy; I only wanted to stop in and see how she was doing, and good thing I did!"

"You really don't know what you done wrong? I ain't never heard a coloured girl try and weasel her way outta trouble so bad as this. Know what I think?"

"Jeb…"

"Think you're one o' them queer women. Like the widows over yonder in Boston." He stood and began to walk in a slow circle to stand behind her. "Kidnappin' a poor li'l farm girl… or maybe you's thinkin' you'd ransom her back to her folks, if she had any. Or white slavery, like I said afore."

"Enough." Sighing again, the bearded man turned back to Elphaba, all business. "Don't matter why you done it. Trouble is, even if you ain't been caught doin' more than just bein' in the wrong place, we can't turn y' loose into the street; gotta make an example of you."

The man with the mustache smiled at his companion. "Put her in the pen for the night? Ought to make her think twice."

"Reckon that'll do it," he sighed, looking distinctly queasy about the prospect. Not that Elphaba understood much of this; she understood she had trespassed, due to needing a key that didn't belong to her in order to enter Dorothy's room, but given that the girl was being kept against her will and mistreated, she couldn't summon any remorse for her own actions.

"Fine," she snapped in irritation. "Put me in this 'pen' of yours." After all, she wouldn't be in there for more than half of a day at the most before a magic belt would rescue her. The simplest solution was to stop fighting against these matters and wait for them to resolve themselves with her complete and utter disappearance.

They seemed to readily accept her suggestion. In short order, she was dragged out of the chair and thrown into a small cell bordered by iron bars, taking the cuffs off just before shutting the door — or gate, as might be a more accurate description when it was made entirely of bars. A handful of other prisoners were in there already, but most of them were seated against the wall or curled up against the bars. One bench was in the cell, and it was already taken up by a lump of someone trying to sleep.

"A night in there oughtta make you more cooperative," Jeb sneered.

"As if I haven't been entirely cooperative up until now!" she shouted at their retreating backs, completely affronted. "You're the ones who've been treating me without any shred of courtesy!"

Realising they weren't going to bother with her any further for the rest of the night, she watched as the bearded man chatted with Jeb for a moment before leaving the room, then Jeb settled himself in a chair. Bored, she turned back to the rest of the cell.

Immediately, she noticed several sets of eyes focused upon her. Some felt like leers, some were openly hostile. But some of them were merely curious. Elphaba looked around for somewhere to sit away from the door. There was no empty space. So she stepped to one side of the gate and leaned back against the wall, trying to make herself comfortable.

It was some time, perhaps the greater portion of an hour, before one of the men staggered over to the latrine. Elphaba averted her eyes.

"Whassa matter, girl?" One of the other prisoners was addressing her, not the one relieving himself. "Never seen one o' those before?"

"I haven't," she told him firmly through her teeth. "And I've survived this long without it, so no thank you."

"Whoo-ee! You sure do talk purty."

Elphaba decided against acknowledging the dubious compliment. Instead, she pretended to be vaguely interested in a spot on the ceiling. After a moment or two, another man joined in: "Yeah, one of them educated coloureds. Bet we can find more better uses for that mouth."

While a couple of them chuckled, one in the corner with extremely shaggy hair, beard and eyebrows groaned, "Lyle, will you shove it? Some of us is tryin' to sleep."

"And I'm tryin' to have a little fun here. We got us a woman in here with us, can't go nowhere, an' all you wanna talk about is sleepin'? You ain't a real man."

"And you ain't no gentleman or you wouldn't talk like 'at." There was some booing, so the man fell silent, but he had made his point known.

Things grew silent for a while. Elphaba was beginning to think maybe the novelty of her arrival had worn off, and she would be able to pass the time in relative silence. It was a bit premature.

"Listen," said "Lyle" as he approached her an hour or so later, voice quieter. He smelled strongly of some powerful kind of drink, and looked as if he normally shaved but hadn't bothered in several days. The hair atop his head was thinning and he was missing a tooth, and even without these factors, he wasn't a terribly appealing specimen. "You and I both know you ain't a lady, so it ain't any kind o' discourtesy for me not to be no gentleman."

"We do, do we?" she muttered shortly.

"Yeah." His hand came to rest on her waist, and she had to resist the urge to immediately fling it off. But she was biding her time. "C'mon, now… let's have some fun, girl. Stuck in this hog pen… we can have ourselves a waller."

Her smile was ingratiating. She had seen Glinda do it enough times to manage a similar effect, even if not quite. But the man was drunk enough that he couldn't catch the biting sarcasm. "Enlighten me. What is a 'waller' and why should we have it?"

"You know."

"I don't. But perhaps if you explain it, we could find out my opinion on the matter."

One of the men whistled and then laughed, and Lyle shot him a glare. But he didn't bother to divert his attention from his current goal any further. Turning back with a grin, he leaned in close to her ear to whisper, "I'll make a woman outta you. Right here up against these bars. Open you up and see if you's brown on the inside, too."

"Mmm," she cooed. "Well, I definitely know exactly what the chances of that are."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"Yes."

There was something about Elphaba and her habits during their days on the run from the Wizard's forces and Morrible's wrath that almost seemed unimportant. Even though she did learn a few spells that would help she and Glinda clean and keep house, mostly, they had learned to do it by hand. Two years of housekeeping, scrubbing, shifting boulders or furniture, woodworking to make new furniture. It got even worse during the weeks at Kiamo Ko Keep; there was a lot of work to be done, and they all pitched in to make the space liveable. Once they had made the Royal Palace their home, Elphaba had fully intended to put those days of hard physical labour behind her completely… but she had only spent a few nights lying awake, feeling too restless to sleep, before she figured out why. After that, she had resumed a regular amount of work; when the Palace staff rebelled, telling her that it was their job to take care of such things and not the job of a Councilwoman, she began doing some of the same actions without any obvious gain other than maintaining that use of energy to which her body had become accustomed. And a bit of woodworking as a hobby; Glinda and she had done it together, and occasionally, Nessa joined them.

All of which might appear to some as irrelevant… until Elphaba grasped the man's wrist and forced it away with relative ease, despite his superior size.

"O-ow, hey, what're-"

"The chances are less than zero," she told him in a firm tone, her smile turning cold and sinister. Something else she had a lot of practice with now. "I am not a 'girl', and I am not interested in a 'waller' with you. And regardless of what hue I am on the inside, you will never discover that. Do we have an understanding?"

"Listen, you bi- AH!" The twisting of the wrist in the direction that it certainly didn't go cut off his protestation, and his face contorted in sheer pain. "Giddoff, giddoff!"

"Do we… have… an understanding?"

"Yes'm! Leggo, please!"

Finally, she did, and he cradled his arm as he slunk back to his corner of the cell. Now she could tell most of the eyes were on her, regarding her with suspicion, wariness. Anger as if she had disappointed them by not being at all what they had been expecting. Only one man looked faintly amused and pleased, and that was the one who had told Lyle to calm down earlier.

It was going to be a much longer night than she first predicted.

                                              ~ o ~

It was the wee hours of the morning when Lyle struck again. Elphaba had been dozing off and on, as had most everyone in the cell. The man who had been sleeping on the single bench was released by Jeb at some point, and another man along the wall took his place when no one else claimed it fast enough. She felt somewhat offended that no one had thought to offer it to the single lady present, but then again, these men of Kansas seemed to have no idea about proper manners. It was the kind of thing that would have had Glinda screaming at them to behave.

The thought of Glinda had made her smile as she curled up against the wall, where the man now in the cot had been. Feeling the slight warmth of the floor in the spot and finding it comforting in a moment when she had little comfort. That, and the thought of her beloved.

That's what she was, after all. They were right to plan for a marriage. She had only been resistant to the notion because such pomp did not suit her preferences, which were to keep to herself and her circle of friends. Being in charge of the fate of Oz, even partially, had not been something she sought on its own merits — only to ensure that their world was not made any worse. Now that Ozma could be in charge, taking the larger share of the spotlight and being the people's favourite, she was much happier.

But Glinda wanted to do things properly, and she wouldn't deny her that. Besides… even if she didn't feel the same need to show her off in front of Lurline and everyone, she was proud of her roommate. Proud and highly fond. Two lovers often married if they intended to remain lovers, and if that was expected of her, she would gladly do it. For Glinda's sake.

She couldn't know how much time had slipped past while she slept when she felt a hand somewhere it certainly didn't belong. Her eyes flashed open to see Lyle's smirking face as he continued to pet up and down the back of her thigh.

"No."

"Now, now, I gave you time to think on it," he whispered, not stopping in the slightest. "Hopin' you'd see sense on yer own. But you ain't."

"No, Lyle."

His smile vanished, replaced by a colder look. "Ain't no negro woman gonna tell me 'no'. We can either have a good time, or you can have a bad one, an' I'll have a good'n anyhow. Really want it that way?"

All the while he spoke, her stomach had been churning to feel him doing something that was not his right to do. If she had her magic, he would have been incinerated for daring to ignore her wishes. As it was… "You're not going to have any kind of time. Get… your hand… off."

"Suit yerself." And he began to pull her dress up.

This time, when she grasped his arm, he was ready, and his other hand came up to stop hers. The arm beneath her body was trapped, so she couldn't use two on him, and was busy struggling with the one as his hand was free to keep pulling until she was partially exposed. Her face flushed with embarrassment and anger, and she wanted nothing more than to kill him where he stood. Why did she feel trapped? He was nothing to her, and his strength negligible. Somehow, the fact that he was attacking her in such a disgusting way made her feel a certain shame that she couldn't quite articulate. As if speaking out against him, or forcing him away, would be admitting that this was happening in the first place. And she didn't want that.

"Don't fuss now," he kept on as he pet her bare thigh. Bile tried to make its way up her throat, and her eyes stung. "A little fun an' you can go back to sleep." When she tried to sit up, he shoved her back down. "I said… don't fuss."

But she was definitely going to fuss. It seemed that he had thought that little show of force was going to be enough to quiet her protests. It wasn't; instead, it was just enough to prompt the stubborn witch into action.

"GUARD!" she shouted in a voice that might even have carried outside the building. "Handle your prisoners!"

The hand on her arm moved up to clamp over her mouth. That might have cut off another shout, but it also was the wrong move. She was able to pop up to a sitting position with her other arm propped up against the ground. Even better: due to the way he was crouched over her, it was a simple matter for her other arm to flash upward and injure the part of his anatomy driving him to perpetrate such acts of perversion.

The howling of pain was what brought Jeb to the door of the cell. By the time he arrived, a few of the other prisoners were awake and staring at Lyle as he curled in on himself, rolling around and clutching between his own legs. Elphaba was fully sat up with her back straight, eyes narrowed down at him.

"Wasn't that fun?" she flung at him in a growl.

"Alright, alright!" the guard snapped at all the men who were either wincing or chortling at Lyle's misfortune. "You already causin' trouble, girl?"

"She got me good! Oh… oh, I ain't never gonna have no kids!"

"Like you was gonna have kids, anyway, Lyle." His eyes swept back to Elphaba and he glared right back at her. "Don't make me come in there after ya."

Grin dark and vicious, she snapped, "I don't care what you do, pissant. Clearly, you are tasked with keeping order in this place, and clearly, you are not up to that task."

There was a whistling and a laughter of a different kind coming from the rest of her fellow inmates now. Jeb didn't appreciate it, as the way his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed seemed to suggest. Curling and uncurling his fists, he reached for the keyring and snapped at her, "Get up, girl."

"What if I don't?"

"I'm gonna put you in a different cell. Don't get up, and it'll be just you and Lyle."

"Fate worse 'n death," said the man who had also jeered at her along with Lyle. A few chuckles accompanied her as she pushed her dress back into place, then slowly stood and approached the bars.

"Hands behind your back, and turn around." She obeyed. Once the door was open, he immediately put the manacles he'd used before around her wrists. They were of an unusual design, and tightened just enough for her wrists; even while she was still furious about what had happened, annoyed that no one seemed to care, she was curious about how such a device was made.

"Can we come, too?" asked one of the men in the corner. He was ignored, though a couple of the others laughed. They seemed to do that a lot.

Jeb took her around the corner to another cell. This one was much smaller, filthier, and had only a wooden plank in the corner to serve as a cot. He unlocked the door and shoved her inside, and she staggered to lean against a wall before she could regain her balance. Then she whirled to glare at him.

"You know, the way a man treats his equals is not a measure of his character. It's how he treats those in an inferior position. Think about that every time you remember how you shoved a woman in handcuffs around."

Jeb glared at her for a long moment. Then he drew his hand back and brought it hard across the side of her face. She felt her body collide with the wall, the room spun, but she did not fall. She fought off the dizziness and forced herself to stand again, to glare at him as a copper flavour began to blossom along her taste buds.

"Had just about enough o' your mouth, whore. Come in here, makin' me look bad in front o' Hoss, in front o' the other prisoners. An' you jus' a coloured girl, ain't nobody important, actin' like you is. That's enough outta you, y'hear?"

Elphaba glared daggers at him for a long moment. Then she worked her mouth until she had a good, thick gob and spat it into his face. The splotch of red blood mingled with the saliva made quite a pattern outward from his cheek, and he flinched in shock.

"What colour is that on your face? My blood. That you don't deserve to touch, but you caused it to be there. What a disgusting excuse for a person you are."

He reached up to backhand her again, but this time she ducked the blow and he connected with the wall instead. Taking her opportunity, she lashed out with her leg and shoved at his stomach so that he staggered back out of the cell. Desperately, she wanted to break free, to run, but he was already struggling to his feet, he would definitely catch her with minimal effort. She didn't even know if she could turn the knob to the entrance of the building with her arms pinned in such a way.

So she kicked the door to the cell shut. It latched with a loud CLANG.

"Damn you!" he snarled, rattling the bars. He went for his keys, but she spat at him again, and this time he pulled back out of the way. "SICK! I don't want none o' your… your darkie diseases!"

"Then you'd better not come in here again, or I'll spit on you until you're covered in them!"

They regarded each other for a long moment. He seemed to realise that she meant business, and that nothing he could do would change the situation. Then he grumbled, "Lyle's plum crazy. Wants anything to do with some girl like you… plum crazy."

Then he was gone. For the first time since that moment in the closet, she felt well and truly alone, and found it to be a relief. Even if she would have wished for Glinda to be there, to put her arms around her and tell her everything would be alright… if she couldn't have that, she would take solitude with a glad heart.

                                              ~ o ~

Uncomfortable though it was to lay down with her hands still bound in the small of her back, Elphaba did manage to get a little more sleep once her racing pulse left her alone. It took a long time. Thoughts continued to crash through her mind. When she wasn't dwelling on Lyle or Jeb's misdeeds, differing in variety of transgression as they were, she was worrying about Dorothy's wellbeing. Missing Glinda. Everything had turned into such a mess in a small fraction of a day. How could the Kansas girl ever have wanted to come back to this awful place?

She was awoken by a banging on the bars. "Get up," said another voice she didn't recognise. Blinking stupidly, she tried and was unable. "Hurry now."

"I can't," she croaked, throat dry. Only then did she realise she hadn't eaten since before she first arrived. Or had more than a brief drink of water.

There was a put-upon sigh. By the time the man had entered, she realised this was another uniformed person, but not either of them from the evening before. His mustache was of a more traditional sort, bushy and covering his upper lip, unlike Jeb's which had been waxed to curl at the points. He reached down behind her, and she tensed all over-

And hated herself for doing it. After one single incident, one she thought was stupid and ridiculous, she had expected that he would do what the prisoner had done. Her stomach tightened, her pulse ticked up in speed, and her breath stopped entirely until she heard the key sliding into the lock of the restraint. Only then could she breathe again.

He noticed. As he was drawing the metal cuffs away, he squinted at her reaction, but then continued to stand. "Up ya get, girl. C'mon."

Elphaba managed to stand. He neither helped her nor further tried to chivvy her along as she worked to regain her footing. Once she was standing, swaying slightly, he turned and exited the cell, then waited for her to do the same.

As he led her past the bars of the other cell, Lyle saw her and scrambled to his feet to throw himself up against the bars. His eyes were full of unbridled fury, and his knuckles turned white where they clutched at the bars. Spittle ran down from the corner of his mouth as he watched her go.

"You'll git yours, slut! Just you wait an' see!"

"Here, now!" the officer barked, and drew out a smallish wooden club from his belt and slapped it against the bars. Lyle leapt backward in alarm; it had just barely missed his fingers. "Settle down in there."

"You'd better do as the man says," the shaggy one who had admonished Lyle before said, merriment in his eyes. "She ain't nothin' to ya, and you ain't nothin' in the first place."

While everyone else was guffawing and chiding him for his outburst, Lyle's face burned with mingling rage and embarrassment. Good, Elphaba thought. Now he knows the tiniest fraction of how he made me feel.

The officer was leading her to a tiny office, one with a door, unlike the desk she had been at when she first awakened in this gaol. The door shut behind them. On the desk were two simple metal platters, piled with a sticky-looking greyish substance. A little clearish-yellow puddle was in the dead center.

"Et up," he told her as he sat down on the other side, taking up his spoon.

Elphaba sat. After a moment of watching him stir the muck around and begin eating it, she did the same — and it hardly tasted like anything. She pulled a face. Still, it was food, and she was starving. Once the muck was stirred a little more, the flavour seemed to gain a hint of saltiness that hadn't been present before, which made it more palatable. Enough to stomach the rest of it.

About halfway through, she paused and wiped at her mouth, swallowed. Then she asked, "What are you feeding me for?"

"Hm? Ain't you eat?"

"Well… I do, yes."

"Then eat."

Left with no other choice, she finished her plate. Then she sat back and sighed pleasantly.

"Good." He took the time to dab at his mouth, then looked up at her. "You aim to tell us what you were doin' slinkin' around the loony bin?"

"Loony…? Ah." Caught off her guard, Elphaba fumbled, "I, um… well, I was visiting a friend."

"That girl, Dorothy? Ain't got any friends, way I heard tell. Her Ma and Pa dropped her like a sack of ol' potatoes."

"Uncle and Aunt."

"Eh?" He glanced down at a notepad that was open in front of him. Until that moment, Elphaba had paid it no mind in the slightest. "So they were. Orphan girl, I hear."

"That's right. Her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry took her in after she lost her parents." As often as she heard Dorothy mutter those two names, she practically had them tattooed on the inside of her skull.

"Mmm. Poor thing. But I can't figure how a coloured girl'd know Miss Gale, or why she'd sneak in to see her. I mean, what with negroes bein' free an' all nowadays, cain't be their kept girl."

Again, the stipulation that she was "free". As opposed to what? Costly? But Elphaba was trying her best not to let it become readily apparent that she was not native to the Land of Kansas. So she merely shrugged her shoulders and muttered, "She's a friend, as I stated before. And I was worried about her welfare — and rightly so! Do you know they've got her locked in a room with practically nothing? Dosed until she can barely move, shocked with… with I don't know what!"

By now, the bristle-mustached officer was a little surprised at all of her unnecessary explanation. She could have kicked herself, but it was too late for that. So she merely waited for him to finish nodding down at his plate, and then to speak again.

"Yep. So you says. Reckon you wouldn't have much use for her otherwise, and you ain't have anything like a gun on ya to scare off anybody tryin' to stop ya. Mighty stupid… and I don't peg you for a dummy."

Elphaba only understood every third word the man said, but it sounded like he was agreeing with her, so she didn't try his patience. "Sorry for the trouble I've caused."

"Mm. Jeb was jammerin on this mornin' that you spit on 'im, kicked him outta the cell. That true?"

"I… I'm afraid it is." Her entire body braced for the impact of his retribution. Instead, he only chuckled, eyes crinkling in a way that his mouth couldn't show from behind that mustache. "Sir?"

"Funny as heck to me, miss. Coloured girl with her hands cuffed licks one o' my men? He oughtta be tarred and feathered, and thrown out into th' streets. Not fit to be an officer of the law."

"Begging your pardon, but I'm glad he wasn't very fit, or I might not be alive."

He nodded, his laughter finally petering out as he scrutinised her face. Then his nods finished up with a stronger one. "Maybe so. Too much fire in that boy's belly. Glad you gave 'im a little humility; good for 'im."

"If you say so."

"Tell you what. Y'ain't seem t' me like much of a risk, or a dangerous type. Another night in the cell, I'll turn ya loose. But you better see Little Miss Dorothy through proper procedure next time, y'hear?"

"Well, I suppose I ought to find her aunt and uncle first. Do you know where they are now?" An idea occurred to her. "Ever since the storm, I'm afraid I'm not sure where they're living."

"Not sure? Ain't you their mammy?"

Elphaba had no idea what he meant by this, though it sounded like he was implying she was Dorothy's grandmother. Deciding that probably wasn't it, she said, "Just a family friend" and left it at that.

"Fair 'nough." He thought for a moment, tapping his chin with the end of his pencil. Then he said, "Tell you what. On account of you rilin' up the men in the drunk tank, how's about I take you down t' see Hank an' Em? Maybe we can straighten this whole thang out."

"Oh, they wouldn't remember me," she said with a laugh. "Dorothy does, but…" Still, she might be able to work this to her advantage. "But I would like to speak with them all the same. The doctors really weren't forthcoming at the asylum, because they couldn't seem to believe I was Dorothy's guest."

"Ain't many coloured women want anythin' to do with that place."

"Maybe not, but I don't appreciate being called a kidnapper."

"Might be one. I ain't seen any proof different." Still, he was already standing, reaching beneath his shirt to hitch up his pants. "Let's git to goin'."

                                              ~ o ~

Apparently, this "goin'" was to be accomplished in a horse-drawn cart of some sort. Elphaba's escort took them outside the city proper and its drab, lackluster buildings, into the surrounding cornfields and featureless pastures with somewhat odd beasts grazing in them. The way was quite bumpy, and she felt obliged to hold on for dear life as they bumped over the road toward their destination. The police captain, whose name turned out to be Will, said very little along the way, but he did ask a question or two that Elphaba did her best to answer. Some of them, such as "Where at in Africa your kin from?" meant literally nothing to her, so she had to throw out such winning responses as "Don't remember".

Eventually, after what felt like a year of unpleasant riding, they reached a small farmstead. The house was much larger and more noteworthy than the tiny shack that had landed near Nest Hardings; there was a tiny amount of pale yellow paint adorning the eaves and the shutters. Elphaba found herself wondering if they had entered the Vinkus before she caught herself.

A brief knock brought a young woman to the door. She looked to be about Dorothy's age, perhaps a bit younger, and her russet hair reminded her strongly of Ozma's. Bare feet stuck out the bottom of a dingy dress of muted colours that swished around her ankles, still moving quite a bit from her most likely having run from several rooms away to see whom had knocked. After smiling at them, she seemed to be startled enough by the mismatched pair that her smile vanished, and she ducked her head shyly.

"Evenin', missy," the man said, doffing his hat. Underneath, he was very nearly bald, and what hair was left was grey and wiry. "Might I inquire after Hank and Em Gale?"

It took her a moment of staring openly at Elphaba before he found her voice. "M-mama?" she asked distantly. But a moment later, she seemed to come back to herself and called more loudly, "MAMA! Policeman at the door!"

Not long afterward, another woman, her own hair a darker blonde and wispy, came to the door to greet the strangers. She was more primly dressed, more polite, and had a better handle on her own manners, curtsying in front of the officer and then showing them into the parlour. Her daughter was shooed upstairs to hide away, since she was clearly uncomfortable around strangers.

"Sorry about my Frances," she told them in a pleasant-yet-flustered tone, shooing him into a chair. "Afraid we don't get many visitors out these parts. Can I fetch you a drink, sir? Cider, or anything stronger? I could put the kettle on…"

"No, no, ain't stayin' that long, miss," he assured her with a crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Elphaba resisted the temptation to comment on their host not offering her a beverage; she was beginning to accept her hypothesis that her skin tone meant she was of lower social standing, ludicrous as that was.

"Begging your pardon," she said, startling the woman and causing her to blink rapidly, "but might there be a Henry and Em Gale here?"

The woman didn't answer right away, but looked to her escort. When he nodded, she still directed her answer toward him. "Indeed there is. Sad story, it is; poor old things."

"Nasty twister, that one was," he sighed with a slow nod, staring off toward the parlour window. "Bunch o' folks lost good homes. Land."

"That's why we took them in, y'know. Em's so good with livestock, and my Frances, and Hank can work all day like I never seen; good and decent, Christian folk. Shame about their niece."

That most certainly caught Elphaba's attention. Sinking down onto the settee next to the "policeman", as the girl had named him, she asked, "What about their niece? I went to pay her a visit, and everyone behaved as if I was trying to kill someone."

But this woman, mother of Frances, was highly distracted. The way she was looking at Elphaba was the look of someone who had seen something highly unpleasant. She hadn't looked at her that way before. When no answer came right away, she glanced over at Will, hoping for some sort of revelation. He, too, seemed vaguely surprised, but not nearly as shocked or affronted as the hostess.

"I… well, alright. It's alright." Turning back to the hostess, Elphaba caught her sighing and passing a hand over her forehead before continuing, "We're part of the Union, after all. Just haven't ever had any…"

"Dorothy, ma'am?" the officer prompted.

"Right. She's off her rocker, I'm sad to say. Can't be all that shocked, as a good many people saw her go up in that house. Darned if I know how she survived! But that kind of thing can't be good for your mind, y'know. So… well, when she came back down, they found her and took her name, and brought her back to Em and Hank. Only she wouldn't quit jawin' on about nonsense, flyin' monkeys and I don't know what all! Well, that ain't the sort of thing I want fillin' my Frances' head, so… well, Em and Hank took care of it on their own, o' course. My Seamus never had to say a word, they already knew what was best."

That completed the picture that Elphaba had already more or less filled in along the way, save for a few details. So she had come back, been reunited with her family, only to have them dismiss her tale as the ramblings of a madwoman and have her sentenced to eternal isolation. It was abominable. Worse — it was unfamilial.

"And you and Seamus let them take care of the matter," she supplied in a numb tone. Again, she saw how uncomfortable the woman looked whenever she spoke, but she paid that no mind. "Could I ask them a few questions? The poor girl was so distraught when I tried to see her, I thought if I might learn a little more, I could talk some sense into her the next time I try."

"And… no offense intended, miss, but what good's a coloured woman from the big city goin' to do Dorothy?"

"Big city?"

"Sure. I mean… obviously, you come from New York or somewheres, talkin' like you do. Educated negroes don't much live 'round here."

Her jaw tightened in annoyance at all the sidetracking, but she tried to remember that shouting at her — or slapping that strangely condescending-yet-afraid look off her face — wouldn't make any strong progress toward her goals. So she forced the grimace into something like a smile.

"Listen, miss… what was it again?"

"Maggie."

"Maggie, yes. I'm an acquaintance of Dorothy's; we had a good many conversations, and she's a charming young woman. At least, she was before all this happened." She just barely kept from mentioning that the 'all this' to which she referred was what the doctors had done to her. "I'd like to see if we might restore her to who she once was."

Maggie scoffed a little. "And how on earth can you do that? Voodoo?"

"Might be. I do have a trick or two up my sleeve." When the hostess gulped, actually frightened now that she hadn't denied it, she turned back to Will. "Hope you don't mind? If we could get everything straightened out today…"

"'Course not," he sighed. He did look weary, but also as if grateful for the shortest route to settling the matter. "Ma'am, if you could point us in the right direction? Cain't take but a few minutes."

Curtsying slightly to show her deference to him as an authority figure, she shot Elphaba another wary glance as she whispered, "Right this way." But her eyes remained on the woman as she led them away from the parlour. Elphaba repaid that courtesy in kind.

Emily and Henry Gale were out in the barn. Both of them were hard at work, though not at any sort of frantic pace; happy to be of use. Elphaba spared a thought for how much their lives must have changed in the past months, since losing their home and everything they had ever held dear. Including Dorothy. Still, she wouldn't forget what she had seen — what they had done to their niece.

Henry was a man with about as much hair as Will, skin spotted with age and from working in the sun all his life. He swiped his forearm across his forehead as he got up from where he was helping another man, hair as bright red and blazing as the sun itself, fixing some sort of wheeled contraption meant to help them move produce from one place to another.

"Maggie!" Seamus called out, shadowing his eyes. "Who's this yer bringin', then?"

Unlike him, she didn't shout back, but waited until they were closer to call, "Officer William, from in Topeka! Says he has questions for Hank and Em!"

"Me?" asked Henry. He had been about to make himself scarce, believing this to be none of his business, but now turned back again, stunned. "Whatever about?"

In short order, they had all gathered around a horse trough while Seamus and Will shook hands, and Maggie went inside to fetch Em. Again, Elphaba felt soundly ignored, but she decided that soon enough she would be back in Oz and could forget all about the unprecedented rudeness she had found in Dorothy's homeland.

From everyone except Angeline, and to a lesser extent, Will. That would bear some remembering, even if everyone else had made the worst impression imaginable.

"Alright," Will said once they had all been introduced. Toto had come out of the barn, and Elphaba felt a slight flare of surprise to see him there; she had almost expected they would sell the dog off once Dorothy was no longer there to take care of him. "We had a couple o' questions about your Miss Dorothy, is all. Well… Miss Elphaba?"

The elderly couple looked a little surprised that the query would be coming from someone they had been ignoring since they got to the barn. Elphaba decided to sidestep that frustration and begin with, "I don't believe you'll remember me, but I'm an old acquaintance of Dorothy's. In passing, I heard that she had been put in that awful asylum and I tried to visit her. Can't begin to even explain how unacceptable the treatment I received there was, and what I've seen-"

"Sorry, but I don't know of any negro women our Dorothy was acquainted with," Em said in an astonished voice. "Fact, other than a few farmhands… I don't reckon she knew any negroes."

"You know, you all spend a lot of time using that word," Elphaba observed with a little more bite than she intended. "As if it automatically settles a lot of things that it most certainly does not! How about we forget 'negro' for a moment, whatever that's supposed to connote, and focus on the heart of the matter: that Dorothy is being gravely abused in that institution of yours!"

"Abused?" Henry blustered immediately, hands curling into fists as Toto barked to hear his stern tone. "What've they done to 'er?"

"Only fed her medicine that caused her to drool like a toothless old kalidah! Shocked her with…" It took her a moment to come up with the word. "'Lectricity, and even beaten her when she was uncooperative! It's bad enough to have shut her up in a room where she can be forgotten conveniently, but in my opinion, physical injury is a step too far! This would never happen in Oz, you know!"

Everyone fell silent at these accusations. However, it wasn't the sort of silence Elphaba had been vainly hoping she might enjoy. They were not outraged, they were not angered. Only saddened and uncomfortable.

"Well… yes, I s'pose that could be," Em said.

"Oswego?" Seamus mused quietly, having misheard Elphaba. "Never been that far south, can't say I've heard they have an asylum there."

"Didn't you say she was demented?" Will prompted, hoping to keep their discussion focused. "Saw nonsense things, talked 'bout 'em?"

"She was," Henry admitted, as distraught as the others. "We tried t' reason with her a bit more, get her to admit she dreamed up the whole mess, but when she got Frances all aflutter and scared, seemed only right we give her over to th' doctors. I ain't any expert on brains."

Elphaba wanted to scream. At them, and in general. This was really all the regret they could summon? But she forced herself to fire at them through her clenched teeth, "She's your family. Why aren't you more upset that she's being hurt on a daily basis?"

"Ain't that simple," Em said, though she was squirming. "The doctors know best; we're simple folk, mind. Can't know what to do with a child who's got a head all twisted up like that."

Finally addressing Elphaba himself, Seamus seemed to come to a realisation — even if he was the only one, and even if he only grasped a piece of the problem. "Look, lass. None of us wanted to have her sent away, did we? But she was ill of the mind, she was. Not a place for her here if she was ill. Had to take her somewhere she might get looked after better than by us, bein' uneducated farmers."

That much made sense. Even if they were quite wrong about the Topeka Insane Asylum being somewhere "better". Her rage had nowhere to go, so she spun on her heels and faced away from them, eyes threatening to stream tears as she stared out over the fields at the setting sun. The countryside was somehow beautiful when lit up in such a manner, even if it couldn't hold a candle to Oz and its splendour. A simple kind of elegance.

"Well, I reckon that's it," Will observed once a short silence had passed. A fresh sob burst from Em, but she still didn't turn to acknowledge it. "Thanky kindly for your time, sir, ma'ams."

"No trouble," Maggie said quickly, ever the hostess.

"Wait," Elphaba said, mastering her emotions and turning back to regard them coldly. It was the best she could do; Glinda might have been able to summon a smile after all that, but she wasn't Glinda. "I would appreciate some kind of… I don't know, decree, that I may visit her. The persons in charge there were highly opposed, and had me imprisoned for attempting to force my way in."

"An' somehow, she ain't the crazy one," Will muttered. But he wasn't trying to stop her.

In short order, Henry and Em signed a brief note stating Elphaba Thropp would be entitled to visit Dorothy — after they had finished with goggling at her unusual name — and the officer signed it as well, bearing witness to the event. Then they walked the guests to the front door.

"Take care, now," Henry told her in a pained voice, scratching behind Toto's ears.

"Tell Dorothy we'll come an' see her soon as we're able," Em said.

"I will. I will tell her that." Perhaps her tone, if not her words, conveyed that she would think far less of them if they never followed through on such a promise.

                                              To Be Continued…

[wackygoofball]

Gifset: Jaime x Brienne - The Net AU

Brienne is a freelance computer programmer who works from home, enjoying her own little bubble where she can be herself without having to put up with co-workers who only ever have mockery for her to spare. Brienne made that experience before when she got into the business, but can now safely say that she rather does without.

Brienne of Tarth doesn’t need anyone, after all.

When one of her online colleagues sends her a copy of a glitch he wants her to take a look at because he does not have the time, Brienne is eager to get down to the bottom of the code – and crack it.

The glitch, a green flame on one of the clients’ websites, leads her down the electronic rabbit hole as suddenly confidential databases of all kinds of government agencies flicker across her screen. Brienne saves a copy of the website's code for later, because she wants to leave it until after she returned from her holiday.

She wants to focus that with all of her mind, because that may prove to be her biggest job until now.

Little does she know…

On her vacation to Dorne, Brienne enjoys some silent days in a hotel, which is gladly not at all crowded. The advantage of someone working freelance is that you can go on holiday when most others are already back in the offices or have to return to bring the kids back to school. Thus, she has the hotel almost entirely to herself, and Brienne relishes the silence and tranquility of this place, even though her mind keeps circling around the glitch.

One day, sitting by the bar, Brienne finds herself curiously being hit on by some random man whom she believes to be way out of her league. Brienne got her fingers burned often enough by now to know that she has to be weary of a man’s advances on her, because she is not pretty to look at, so she rebuffs him rather quickly. While she finds it queer, she thinks nothing of it.

Stranger things have happened, like that code that just won’t leave her mind.

That same night, Brienne suddenly has someone knock on her door. Irritated, she opens, only to come face to face with the guy from the bar who tried to hit on her, staggering around drunkenly.

He tells her that no one is at the lobby, that he forgot his key card and cell phone in the room, and asks Brienne to use her phone to call up his friend with whom he shares a room to bring by the key card.

Brienne is suspicious, and instead suggests that he may write down the number for her, so that she can call from the phone in the room in his name while he can wait outside. “I don’t have good experience with strangers in my room.”

However, the man insists, which only ever assures Brienne that she doesn’t want that man inside. She tells him to lay off, but that is when the man basically falls into her arms before Brienne can move away. She staggers backwards. The door falls shut, and suddenly, she is forced to revive all of her mixed martial arts skills as she has to fight with the man who turns out to want to kill her.

A battle of life and death ensues.

They fight their way through the room, wrecking it in the process, until they come out on the balcony. Brienne manages to knock against the man’s head, momentarily knocking him out. As she is about to lock him out on the balcony to call police, the man grabs her leg, makes her fall over, and the two wrestle once more. Somehow, the man manages to cut past her defenses and push her off the balcony below. Brienne hits her head on the side, but then rolls into the pool, out cold.

Brienne wakes up in a Dornish hospital some time later, in pain and confused. The nurse taking care of her explains that she almost drowned and that they do not have her ID to confirm her identity, which confuses Brienne a lot, because she checked into a hotel, and she almost drowned in their pool, so they should have her contact information.

She wants to call the hotel, but thanks to the head injury, she has a hard time remembering either the number or the name, but once she does, it is claimed that Brienne of Tarth checked out a couple of days ago. Brienne is in shock.

Not knowing what else to do, she sets out to the Embassy, releasing herself from the hospital early, but she cannot acquire an ID with her actual name due to the lack of papers. Brienne manages to go by the name Jane Snow and at least get an ID to leave Dorne. She hopes that once she is back home, she can clarify this whole mess.

But far from it. Back home, her entire life is lies in ruins. Her apartment is up for sale though she never did it, and increasingly, her squeaky-clean record gets stained with sudden charges for theft and drug abuse.

Not having any friends or support to turn to in King’s Landing, Brienne finds herself on the run, all the while fearing that the man who meant to kill her was not alone.   With the last stags she has, she goes to a cyber café. She wants to get into contact with her employers to somehow work out this mess, but the revelations just keep coming, since it appears to be that they are somehow involved into this whole mess, when suddenly her employer demands of her that she gives him the information on the stick, which she saved before leaving for Dorne, and that only then he can help her.

As she gathers more information by digging deep into the dark net, Brienne suddenly receives a mail by the ominous “Slayer-King”.” A person she has never heard of or spoken to. In the email, the person claims that she is in severe danger, that she has to get out of that cyber café or else they will track down her location via the IP address, and that he can help her.

Brienne, naturally, does not want to trust that person, after she was already screwed over twice in a short amount of time, but she eventually agrees to meet with Slayer-King – because, what other choice does she have if Brienne ever wants to get her life back?

They plan to meet up at a train station. Brienne is supposed to only speak to a man approaching her, knowing the password, which he sent to her via email, so that she doesn’t end up talking to the people after her.

Once at the station, a man approaches her, and he recounts the word listed in the appendix of the email. The two start to talk and the man explains to her that he can get her to safety so long she hands over the information for the “Wildfire Code.”

“Once I have that, I can get you to a safe house, I can get you bodyguards, and then we can get the bad guys. You will get your old life bac. I promise you. But I need that hard drive to start, or else my agency won’t make a move, sorry.”

Brienne tells him that she will give him the USB stick, but that she hid it away in the lady’s bathroom before coming here, reckoning it may have been unwise to bring the one thing that may be worth a bargain right to the negotiations.

They make their way to the restrooms, which are vacant, so the man follows her inside. While Brienne is inside one of the stalls, she keeps talking to the man in black suit. When he grows impatient and means to head into the stall as well, Brienne smacks the door right in his face, snarling at him, “Wrong password.”

Brienne looks around, trying to figure out what to do next, when suddenly she finds herself being strangled, the guy having moved in as silently as a cat, seemingly an assassin sent to execute her now in all earnest. Brienne already fears that this is the end for her, but that is when the man strangling her is hit over the back of the head with the back of a gun. The assassin falls over to the side as the third man now in the room keeps smacking him until he is most definitely out of it. Brienne staggers away, removing the zip tie around her neck. She already wants to get away, but the bearded man suddenly yells out the right codeword.

“Those assholes have yet to learn that an email is not the same as a code,” he mutters, looking back at the passed out men on the ground, before dragging the two into the stall and closing the door.

“We have to get out of here,” he says, urging Brienne to take his hand and leave, but when he sees her hesitance, the man adds, “You have no reason to trust me, I know, but for now, I am the only person standing between you and those guys. So we will have to agree on a truce.”

“You need trust to have a truce.”

“And I trust you,” he replies, suddenly holding his gun out to her. “You really think they would have done such a reckless thing?”

Brienne takes the gun and puts it away, fearing that the man has the rights of it and that she has no other choice but to come with him.

“Who are you?” she asks once they are in the car and driving away from the train station.  

“Jaime Lannister. Former agent for the Westeros’ Bureau of Investigation, cyber crime division. And you have stumbled over an old enemy of mine, sadly.”

“Who?”

“What is the appropriate question. The code that you discovered, that is the enemy. The Wildfire Code may potentially run havoc and throw all federal government agencies into a spiral of chaos.”

“Because it can reveal all data, who is undercover, who is who, where there are raids or attacks planned…,” Brienne recounts as it dawns on her just what she stumbled into.

“Exactly.”

“But how does that appear as a glitch on a website for some random bank?” Brienne asks.

“I don’t know, but we will have to find out.”

“We?”

“Well, you don’t have the luxury to choose another partner. For now, I am the only person you have, sweetheart.”

“I am not your sweetheart.”

“Would you rather have me call you ‘wench?’”

“No!”

Jaime Lannister hoped to put that old demon to rest back when he killed Aerys Targaryen, which earned him his nickname, because it was his former boss who sold the Wildfire Code to the guys now after Brienne, or rather, parts of it, and they now want to get the rest, some of which Brienne accidentally brought back to the light.

He would rather just get Brienne to safety, but since he was thrown out of the agency and discredited for Aerys’ murder, Jaime knows that no one will believe him unless he delivers the evidence, and for that, it takes more than Brienne’s bit of the code, he needs all of it.

And so, Jaime has to propose to work together with Brienne to get the remains of the code, because he knows he cannot do it alone, as much as he dreads putting the woman any more in danger than she already was thanks to his own mistake of not having managed to put down the code the same way he put down Aerys.

Over the course of the events, the two develop more than a begrudging respect for one another, which makes all of this ever the more dangerous and complicated for the two programmers on the constant back and forth between chasing and being chased.

Jaime finds himself forced to leave his cyber rabbit hole, his home, where he hid away from the world after Aerys, leave his self-loathing and blame, simply his past, behind in favor of getting the bad guys, and most importantly, protecting Brienne.

Brienne, at the same time, has to learn to accept help from a man she still barely knows, has to stop being the lone wolf, and apparently follow the same advice she gave to Jaime, which is to leave the rabbit hole.

However, danger is only just a click away as the two get more and more entangled in a net of thievery, murder, and treason reaching up to the highest ranks of federal government, and it is yet to be determined whether the two will manage to crack the code…

[siriusordo]

A Chance Meeting

A/N: So I haven’t shared this story here. It’s something new I tried. I wrote it for my World of Warcraft main character, Rhys, a blood elf hunter. The first chapter is mostly world building but it heats up in the second chapter and gets smutty.  I hope everyone enjoys it.

A Chance Meeting

After weeks of living off the land, camping out and avoiding most people, both Alliance and Horde alike, Rhys had decided it was time to treat herself to a warm bed, bath and food she didn’t have to fix herself. She’d considered renting the room above the tavern but one look at the dirty room and the lack of a door and she decided she’d find a room elsewhere. Luck was with her. A sweet older Tauren lady had a spare room above her business that she was willing to rent to Rhys for a couple of nights. It boasted everything the other one lacked. A large cozy bed with clean sheets, a small fireplace tucked in the corner, a wash basin with clean towels and best of all, a door with a sturdy lock. One sniff of her and the Tauren had thrown in a hot bath and evening meal.

After luxuriating in the bath until the water was nearly cold, Rhys had washed herself, scrubbing off the dirt and grime of the jungle before using a large towel to dry off. She took some small clothes out of a pack and slipped into them before pulling out a soft, long sleeved green shirt that matched her eyes and black pants. She sat down and put on a pair of stockings and her leather boots. She eyed her dirty leather gear tossed in a corner. In this heat it would be uncomfortable to put the armor back on, plus it really needed a good cleaning before it was worn again. Leaving the pieces in the pile, Rhys found her belt in her backpack and put it on instead. She tied her small money satchel to her belt, slid her hunting knife into its scabbard on her belt and slipped a boot knife into her boot top. Last, she used a small brush to carefully comb out her long red hair and pull it back in a low ponytail. For more read below or: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685667/chapters/56864812 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13554766/1/A-Chance-Meeting

Standing up, she started towards the door and grasped the handle. “No Infuego,” she told her faithful companion, a large black wolf, “Stay here, rest and guard our belongings.”

He huffed his acceptance and laid back down on the rug next to the bed. He closed his eyes and seemed to drift back into a light slumber. She was well aware that the appearance was an illusion. All of the wolf’s senses were still on guard and if anyone was stupid enough to enter while she was gone, they deserved what he did to them.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” she added as she shut the door behind her. Using the key the old Tauren had given her, she locked the door and slipped the key into her satchel.

After eating supper with the matronly home owner, Lydai, Rhys had headed out into the humid evening to get a few drinks. She kept both eyes open as she walked the short distance to the tavern. This may be a neutral town but it was still better to be on guard, just in case.

When she stepped through the small door to the building, she was hit by the scent of fish, stale ale, and sweat. The bar was along the far wall, a few tables were tucked into various corners. The goblin innkeeper stood in the middle room and a goblin barkeeper was behind the bar, only the tips of his ears were visible. A stairway was to her left and it led up to some more tables and the doorless rooms. Another set of stairs led up yet again, to a third seating area on the highest floor.

She walked over to the bar and the goblin stepped up on to a box. “What’ll ya have?”

“Any draft ales?”

“Just got in a barrel of Wicked Ale,” he answered as he stepped down off a hidden box and walked down the length of the bar and picked up a mug. “Five silver pieces.”

“Three,” the young blood elf countered, knowing better than to take the first price a goblin quoted. “And a shot of rum.”

“Three silver and six bronze pieces,” the goblin haggled, as he filled the mug before picking up the rum bottle and pouring out a shot.

With a nod of agreement, the young hunter reached into the leather money satchel tied to her belt and placed the agreed upon sum on the bar in front of her.

“Good doing business with you,” the goblin put the drinks down in front of the female elf and picked up the money before walking off to serve another patron down the bar.

Picking up the smaller glass, Rhys quickly knocked back the rum swallowing it in one go. She placed the now empty glass back on the bar and picked up her mug of ale. She turned and looked around the room and found a small table tucked into the far corner. She could have her back to the wall and still have a good view of the door.

Just as she settled into the chair and took a sip of her ale, Rhys heard the tread of a pair of heavy boots on the stairs. Taking another swallow of ale, her eyes were drawn to the dwarf who was so different from the males she was used to. Though he was shorter than most elves, he was broader though the shoulders and his arms, chest and legs rippled with muscles. He kept his dark hair short and spiky and he had a long, well cared for beard that hung down to mid chest.

“Lass,” the dwarf greeted her with a smile, “It’s good to see you.”

“And you master dwarf,” Rhys replied with a grin of her own.

“None of this formality,” the dark haired “as I told you before, the name’s Ranir.”

“Well Ranir,” Rhys raised her mug to him with a smirk, “You did offer to buy me a pint for saving your life.”

“That I did,” he readily agreed, “And a dwarf is always good to his word.” He winked at her, “Especially when he owes a debt to a beautiful lass.”

“I uh,” Rhys stumbled over her words as a blush colored her cheeks, not used to the attention. She found that most males of her own race weren't attracted to her. They thought her too brash, too bold and much, much too independent. “Thank you,” she finally managed.

“Tis just the truth lass,” he quirked an eyebrow and seemed to study her, “and if those other ruddy elves are to blind to see it then it's their loss.”

Rhys squirmed in her seat, a bit uncomfortable with the drift of the conversation. In an attempt to hide her discomfort, she picked up her mug and took a few long swallows of ale.

The dwarf watched her for another moment before deciding to let the matter drop. “Now,” he clapped his hand together, “What’ll ya have? I promised you a drink and a drink ya shall have.”

“Wicked Ale,” Rhys answered.

“Eh, that weak stuff,” Ranir said with a snort of disgust, “Ya need something a little more stout.” Just as Rhys took another sip from her mug, his voice dropped an octave and seemed to rumble out of his chest as he added, “Something a bit more dwarvish.” Rhys sputtered and choked at the innuendo, making Ranir roar with laughter.  “Ah lass, you turn such a pretty shade of pink.”

She refused to allow this dwarf to keep getting the best of her. “I can handle anything,” she put down her now empty mug and eyed Ranir from the top of his head, her eyes slowing just below his belt line before continuing to the tips of his boots before coming back up. Her green eyes met his sky blue ones as she licked her lips before she finished, “anything dwarvish you may have.”

“We’ll see lass,” Ranir said with a wink, ���we just may see.” He pulled out the chair to Rhys’s left and sat down, giving him a decent view of the whole room and door.  He held up two fingers and shouted to a nearby serving woman, “Two Dark Dwarven Stouts.”

She nodded and headed toward the bar.

As they waited for their drinks, the silence seemed to stretch between them, the air heavy and hot, the tension building. Rhys played with her empty mug nervously. It was one thing to joke, maybe exchange a few words in passing to someone from the other faction, an enemy. It was quite another to sit at a table and have a friendly conversation. What did you say? Just as he tipped his chair back, Rhys decided to break the silence. “So, is there a dwarf woman waiting for you back at the mountain?”  

The front legs of Ranir’s chair crashed back to the floor and he made a surprised noise in the back of his throat. He choked and sputtered on his words, unable to say anything intelligible.

Pleased at the reaction she’d gotten, Rhys smiled and added, “Maybe a few little dwarflings running around at her feet.”

“No lass,” he said, “I’ve no little ones at home.” He decided to try and turn the tables on her. “And unless you’re offering, I’ve no wife.”

It was Rhys’s turn to sputter and turn pink again.

The barmaid returned and put the large mugs on the table in front of them. She picked up Rhys’s empty one and put it on her tray.

Picking up his mug, Ranir decided to let her off the hook. “I’ve never found a woman willing to put up with me for long.”

Rhys nodded her understanding. It took a special person to put up with a partner’s long absences. So far, she hadn’t found anyone willing to put up with it either. She picked up her stout and took a tentative sip. A strong, bittersweet taste, hit her tongue.  A second sip and her taste buds were overwhelmed by hops and barley. “It’s good.”

“O’ course it is,” Ranir grinned at her, “It’s dwarvish.”

Rhys just rolled her eyes at her companion, taking another swallow of the dark liquid.  

Ranir pulled out a couple of gold pieces and put it on the server’s tray. “Keep them coming.”

“Will do,” the human female said.

Before the woman left Rhys made a request. “Bring us a bottle of Rumsey’s dark rum and two shot glasses.”

The woman didn’t answer but started back towards the bar.

“Rum lass?”

“You need to catch up,” Rhys grinned at him and took another sip of stout.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Challenge,” Rhys mused, “No,” it was her turn to see if she could embarrass the dwarf,  “that comes later.”

Ranir grinned at her and didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t make promises ya may not be ready to keep lass.”

She leaned forward in her chair, rested her elbows on the table, and her eyes met his, “I can keep ‘em.”

The moment was broken a few seconds later when the server returned with the bottle of rum and glasses. She also brought another round of ale for them. Rhys leaned back in her seat so the human could put the items on the table. “Two gold for the rum.”

Rhys went to reach into her money satchel but Ranir stopped her and motioned for her to put money away. He took out the requested amount and put it on the server’s tray. “I’m paying tonight.”

“Thank you.” After the bar maid left, Rhys picked up the bottle, poured a shot and put the bottle back on the table. She pushed it in front of the dwarf and nodded toward the glass. “Drink up.”

“And what of yours?” He picked it up and knocked it back.

“I had one already,” Rhys explained with a smile, “As well an ale.” She motioned to his first stout and teased, “You wouldn’t let a blood elf out drink you, would you?”  

Wrapping his handle around the handle on the mug, Ranir winked at Rhys, tipped up the mug, chugged the contents and slammed the now empty glass back to the table. “Never,” he wiped away the beer from his beard with the back of his hand.

“Better,” Rhys laughed while shaking her head at the dwarf’s antics.

“Now lass,” Ranir said, wrapping his hand around his second mug, “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“You asked for it,” Rhys laughed, sipping her stout before she told the dwarf her life story.  

They spent the rest of the evening, swapping stories and drinking. They shared ribald jokes, laughed together and drank some more. They told of their greatest hunting kills, each story more grand than the last...and they drank some more.

“Last call,” the goblin bartender called out.

“It’s that late,” Rhys asked, her words slurred by the alcohol, “Where’d the time go?”

“One more round here,” Ranir called out as he motioned to their table. The barmaid acknowledged him and Ranir turned his attention back to his beautiful companion. “Time flies when you’re having fun lass,” Ranir said, his own words slurred, “And tis been a time since I’ve enjoyed myself this much.” Underneath the table, he reached out and rested one hand on her upper thigh. He gently  rubbed her pant clad thigh, fingers slowly drifting to the tender skin of her inner thighs.

Rhys flushed and made a little whimpering noise in the back of her throat but she didn’t stop him.

Taking that as permission, Ranir’s fingers drifted higher between her legs. He caressed her most intimate spot. “I’m not ready for the night ta end.”

“Me neither,” she said, breathily, his gentle touch caused a heat to pool in her tummy.

Before Ranir could say more, the server returned with their last round of drinks. The dwarf sat back in his chair and reluctantly pulled back his hand. Ranir watched with hooded eyes as the barmaid put two more mugs on the table and picked up the empty ones.  He dropped a couple of coins on her tray. “The rest is for ya.”

“Thank you Master Dwarf,” she said with a smile. She turned and headed over to check on another table.  

Rhys picked up her own mug and drank from it, desperately trying to cool her overheated body. She needed to get a hold of her rampaging desires. She wouldn’t do anything she’d regret later.

Ranir grinned at the blood elf as he picked up his own mug and followed her example. He could feel his own blood and desire coursing through his veins. He desperately wanted more. It had been a long time since he was physically attracted to anyone but it was more than that. There was something about the blood elf that intrigued him. She was different, an equal.

“Ranir,” she put her mug down on the table, “no matter how badly we want it, we can’t do this.”

He just grinned at her inadvertent admission. She wanted him just as he wanted her. “Ah lass,” he said, a slight slur to his words, “we’re doing this and it’ll be unlike anyth’ing you’ve experienced.”

At his words, heat flashed through her body, straight to her womanhood. Rhys squirmed in her chair and moaned softly, “Ranir.”

“Lass.” Reaching out, he buried his hand in her long fiery locks, gripped the back of her neck, and gently pulled her closer to him. He leaned in and pressed their lips together. He tentatively deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth and gently caressing hers, and making her moan needily. Ranir felt his cock twitch in response and press hard against the fabric of his pants. The need for air finally forced them to break the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers. “Need ya lass.”

“Want you too,” she panted with need and tried to catch her breath, “but not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Why’s that?” he asked and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before he let go of her neck and sat back in her chair.

“Dif’ferent factions,” Rhys answered as if it should be obvious.

“Do ya care lass?”

“No,” she admitted and she was surprised to realize she meant it. She’d had a wonderful evening getting to know Ranir. After all the stories and jokes, she realized they weren’t all that different. They had the same hopes and dreams for the future.

“Me either,” he shrugged and picked up his mug, “So what does it matter? I like ya. I wanna spend time with ya lass and get to know ya more….intimately.” He turned up the mug and took a few swallows of stout.

As realization dawned, she admitted, “It doesn’t,” and with that clarity, it was Rhys’s turn to reach out and touch Ranir. She slipped her hand into his lap and stroked his pant clad member.

He sputtered and choked on his last gulp of beer. “Fuck lass,” he groaned.

“Yes,” Rhys continued her mistrations. “I need to feel you,” she felt his cock respond and twitch against her hand, “All of you.” It quickly hardened and lengthened, pushing against the fastenings of his pants.

When Ranir finally reached a breaking point, he grasped her hand in his and stilled her motions. “Stop lass or...” his words trailed off as he tried desperately to regain some semblance of control of his body.

“Or?” she nearly purred.

“I bend ya over this table and take ya right here for all ta see.”

She licked her lips at his admission. She wanted so badly her center ached with it but she had no desire to be a spectacle for the other bar patrons. She slowly and reluctantly removed her hand. After taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she asked, “So how do we do this?”

Giving it a moment of thought, Ranir reached into his money satchel and pulled out a gold coin. He put it on the table between them.

“Ummmm...ok?” the puzzlement clear in her tone. She was fairly sure he didn’t intend to pay her like some common street prostitute.

“Heads I win,” Ranir offered, “tails you do.”

“What’re the stakes?” Rhys asked, the slur returning to her words.

“Ya win,” he licked his lips, his eyes dipping to her breasts, “Ya get to ride me.”

Rhys’s breath caught in the back of her throat. “And if you win?”

“If I win lass,” he licked his lips. “I ge’  ta feel those long, luscious legs wrapped around my waist as I take ya hard and fast.”

She couldn’t deny she was attracted to Ranir but was she ready to take this step? Did she want to sleep with the enemy? Her eyes were drawn to his hard length pressing against the fabric of his pants. Gods yes! Without thinking about it anymore, she said, “Let’s do it.”

He laughed at her unintended double entendre as he picked up the coin. “Ready?’

“Yes,” she said eagerly, “Flip it.”

He set it on his large thumb and flicked the coin up into the air. It flipped end over end a few times before Ranir caught it again and slapped it down against his forearm. He kept it covered with his big hand. “Last chance to back out lass.”

“Won’t happen,” she shook her head, “Now show me the coin.”

Ranir slowly removed his hand, so he got the first glance at the coin. He winked at her as he showed her the results. “It’s heads.”

Unable to stop her instinctive reaction, Rhys wrinkled her nose at the loss. It wasn’t the wager that caused it but her competitive streak. She didn’t mind fulfilling her end of the wager, she just didn’t want to lose. “Two of three?”

“Sure ya wanna risk it lass?” He winked at her and took another swallow of stout.

Not giving a second thought she replied, “Yes.”

“Tis your choice,” he put his now empty mug back down on the table. He looked her up and down. “Or more exactly your body.”

He picked up the coin again, placed it on his thumb and flipped it into the air. He caught it, slapped it down against his arm, and pulled his hand away.

“Tails,” Rhys said, triumphantly.

“Tails,” Ranir agreed. “Do we break the tie?” He looked at her with his hungry eyes and gave her a wicked grin, “Or do we enjoy both wagers?”

Rhys flushed and bit back a moan at his suggestion. She managed one word, “Both.”

He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair. Grabbing her hand, Ranir pulled Rhys to her feet. He didn’t let go of her hand as he started toward the staircase.

“Where are we going?” Rhys asked the eager dwarf.

“My room upstairs.”

Rhys planted her feet and stopped, forcing Ranir to either stop or let go of her hand.

“What?”

“You let one of those dirty, doorless rooms?” she asked incredulously.

“I made ‘em change the sheets,” Ranir shrugged, “And put up a curtain over ‘e door.”

Rhys made a disgusted face. Sheets and a curtain were barely an improvement for those disgusting rooms.

“I’ll admit it isn’t the best choice,” Ranir allowed, “And our neighbors will still hear ya when I make ya scream my name,” he gave her a lusty wink.

Rhys rolled her eyes at his boasting.

“But unless you have another option it’s the best we have,” he finished as he gestured toward the staircase.

“I rented a private, clean room over a business for a few nights. We could go there,” Rhys offered. “It’s not far.”

“And it has a door?” he teased her.

“Aye,” she said, starting toward the saloon’s exit, “And a lock.”

“Your belongings will be safe in your room?”

“Rá will guard our room.” Ranir glanced at the goblin innkeeper and warned, “It would be unwise for any to enter there until I return.”

Rhys remembered the large white lion from the jungle and she had to agree. After she’d saved Ranir from a large band of beasts, the cat barely allowed her near its downed master. Only after the dwarf had reassured it that she meant no harm, could she get close enough to heal his wounds.

“Lead the way,” he allowed Rhys to lead him outside into the darkness…

[shazyloren]

The Dragon Club: Chapter 1 - Billboards and Downpours

Summary:  Jon Snow is an online blogger who gets an interview with the sort after Daenerys Targaryen, the Editor of Valyrian, a multi-million dollar fashion magazine. He'd heard so much about the silver-haired and silver-tongued woman and he running of her business; he would have to be smart to get anything more than five minutes. Will he be safe walking into the Dragon's lair or will he get thrown to the Lions?

Note: This is going to be a 20ish chapter fanfic, hopefully gonna upload three or fours chapters a week depending on work etc. 

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12018519/chapters/27201402

--------------

Shoot.

Jon looked at his watch and realised he was going to be late if he didn't hurry his ass up. Going over his notes in the car; he scribbled down extra little comments which came to him as he thought everything over.

He was in debt to his sister Sansa, who's face had been plastered over the billboards throughout town. She had gotten him a small interview with Daenerys Targaryen, the owner of Valyrian magazine, in which Sansa was on this month's cover. Jon didn't normally cover fashion on his blog; but he loved business and what better person to do an interview than the woman who three years ago was living in her car to the multi-million dollar empire she had today.

It was an astonishing achievement in business; and Jon was looking forward to getting a one on one to find out the details of how she'd done it.

At the very thought of sitting opposite a woman who was more than likely going to be wearing something worth more than his house; he felt his skin tingle as his goosebumps stood on end.

You got this, Jon. Don't screw it up.

He turned the key in the ignition and drove off down his road. The radio was quietly playing through his personalised playlist on Spotify and helped keep his nervous tension at bay.

As he passed by houses and bungalows; suburbs and villages, the scenery changed the green and yellows of country life to the blues and blacks of the city. Valyrian tower was a new building, six months old and protruded the King's Landing skyline with it's elegance and style. Underneath the huge 10 ft x 40ft sign atop the building saying 'Valyrian' was the magazine's now infamous logo, the three dragon heads. He was still twenty minutes out from the tower, but he could see it protruding the horizon.

A bit much really, Jon thought, I can see her ego all over it.

The heavens opened then and small drops of rain tumbled from the sky and landed on the window and bonnet of Jon's black Golf GTI. The car handled the ran well though, still smooth over the paved roads as traffic seemed to be no existent. It as unusual for the traffic to be this light on a Wednesday nearing lunch time. But as if the gods new Jon had somewhere to be, the roads were quiet. The rain started to slash down, visibility really down as Jon's wipers worked overtime.

Not now, he thought angrily. He didn't need the delay of driving slower, he was making good time. Trying to no think about possibly arriving late he thought about what questions he was going to ask first. He had over a hundred questions but he would be luck if he got to ask more than five or six. Jon also brought his camera in the hope that he was allowed to get a couple of photo's, he was an amateur photographer and had taken all the photos used on his site where possible.

He wanted to make sure he asked about her attitude which built her empire so quickly, but he also didn't want to come across rude. He'd thought about trying to plan what he said very carefully and constructively but he wasn't about to look rehearsed in that room with her.

He ran his hand through his hair as he slowly drove through the rain; his wild curls uncontrolled in his rear-view mirror. His bearded face looked worrisome; he hated that he always looked like he was in a constant state of misery and brooding. Not much made him smile these days; not since... her.

He'd always busied himself wit his blog which was now a phenomenon. He got a million hits a day and whether it was social issues he was tackling or political intrigue amongst the world leaders he put the same amount of effort into it. Robb had said he was a workaholic and needed a good shag; Jon had found his comment crude and distasteful. That was Robb in a nutshell. He was always commenting on Jon's sex life )or there lack of) and bragging about his own to him. 'Robb, you're married' Jon would say but Robb said that Jon being unmarried was all the more reason not to be a celibate for the rest of his life.

Jon wasn't becoming a celibate; he just had other priorities and focus' in his life that didn't revolve around his junk. Arya had told him that he needed to meet someone, but it just didn't feel right. And now his younger sister was getting married before he was; in four weeks no less. Sansa, like him, was still single but he thought he'd heard her and Arya chatting at Robb's house the other night about another model she'd met while working with Louis Vuitton. Jon hadn't said anything but if he wasn't careful, his youngest brother Rickon would be married before him and he was currently fourteen.

Sigh.

He was being hopeless again; thinking of anything that would distract him ass he pulled into the city centre. The Valyrian building was even more menacing from lower on the streets, it was easily 100 floors. There were women and men in fashionable suits and powersuits walking into the building. Jon was transfixed with some of them; who looked like some of the richest people on the planet but Jon was sure they'd only be making just above minimum wage.

He pulled into the parking lot which had valet availiable but Jon hadn't been given access to that. So he waited for the ticket barrier to rise and drove through and travelled down a winding path that took him to some empty parking spaces. He found one he liked out of the way of the big Range Rovers and Volvo's which like to park over two spaces and smoothed into the white lines. 11:52, he was early. His 15 minutes wasn't until 12:15. For a few minutes he browsed his own hand-writing as he gave himself one final prep before walking into the Dragon's lair.

He walked through the big front doors, white and looking as if they were polished that day. He straighten his tie out of habit and strolled up to the front desk, his folder in arms. The woman on the front desk had an impatient smile as the person on the other end of the phone didn't seem to stop talking. She smiled apologetically at Jon who shrugged as if to say it was fine; even if the long wait was making him more nervous.

You got this, he kept on telling himself.

It suddenly occurred to Jon, that even by glancing around the tower's lobby, he suddenly felt very out of place. He was used to a more homey setting (considering he worked from his office most of the day; with the occasional interview making him leave his abode) and everything in this building did not scream homey. It almost screamed medicinal, sanitation and surgery to him. Everything looked like it could've been buffed clean ten minutes ago.

"Good morning, sir. Apologies for the wait. Welcome to Valyrian Magazine, how may I help you today?" The woman on the counter spoke as she grabbed a visitors clipboard.

"Err, hello. I'm Jon Snow from The Wolf Online; I have an interview with the Editor" He felt so much tension in side himself. It was almost as if someone had set every nerve in his body on fire with a match. He felt it in every creak of his bones, with every breath of his lungs. He'd heard so much about her, he was expecting so much from her that he was worried he'd be disappointed. He was given the visitors board before being clocked into the building. The woman told him the necessary fire routes and gave him a 'visitor' badge. "Thank you"

"No problems, you'll need the 101st floor. From there you'll be shown to the Editor's room to wait until Miss. Targaryen is ready for you" Jon nodded in thanks once again. He felt unprepared; he knew he should've spent more time doing it last night but the three glasses of red he'd had drank had made him confident and now, he was regretting his actions.

He sloped off to the only spare elevator and walked inside. Pressing floor '101' he watched the lobby disappear behind sliding white doors and waited for the long trip to the top. He didn't fair well in heights, but he still found himself wondering what the view would be like form the top floor. He wondered what it would be like to own a company this big; that was as renowned worldwide as Valyrian was, what it was like to see the view everyday.

There was no going back; no cancelling no rescheduling. I must thank Sansa later, the thought of her suddenly entering his mind as the lift doors open on the 101st floor and he's greeted with her face on the wall opposite. She did look beautiful on that campaign, he'd have to embarrass her later by taking a photo with the one he'd spotted outside the building and post it to his instagram page. She would hate that, and the thought of it makes his stomach feel at ease. Even if he did make a tit of himself in this interview at least he'd be able to laugh at it afterwards.

He was immediately shown to a waiting chair outside her office and took a seat as various people walked by him and in and out of the office he was to go in himself. He could here no shouting, no wails of tears from anyone. He was almost disappointed already; perhaps she was a more menacing threat face to face. Perhaps she was someone who didn't make you cry until you got home and readdress your life choices. It was some ten minutes before he was pulled out of his thoughts, the last thing he remembered was that he was cooking for Arya and Gendry tonight which meant he had to get home by four as to not end up getting takeaway.

"We're ready for you, Mr. Snow" An assistance with brown hair and deep caramel skin spoke as she walked to him in a pantsuit. He nodded and got off of his chair; one last fix of the tie before grabbing his Polaroid and his folder.

The woman moved the door aside so he could step in, on last intake of breath before he entered the lair.

[redheadedcashew]

Make You Miss Me. (3/4)

Soon enough the weeks were turning into months and Amanda still hadn’t left the small town of Charming. She was still sleeping in her old bedroom at her mums place, she’d never gotten around to collecting her furniture or her precious books from the house she had made a home with Tom. She occasionally wondered if he had thrown all her stuff out, or set them on fire as a way to further hurt her. When she felt herself thinking about him, she’d have to take a deep breath before her feelings took over and she became tempted to call him. It didn’t matter that she was still connected to Cillian, she’d been connected and apart of Tom’s life for so long, it was hard to remember how to exist with out him. She couldn’t say it to anyone, she didn’t want to admit that some part of her secretly yearned for him in the late hours when she was alone, but she had found Cillian to be a welcome distraction and the one thing she had made clear, she was NOT his ticket to club information.

As time had carried on, other things unrelated to her were changing. Ryan, had finally asked Sarah to marry him and of course, without even a hiccup Sarah had said yes. Amanda couldn’t have been anymore happier for her friends. These two had been destined together from the get go, they were as strong as ever and nothing could ever ruin the foundation they had built with each other. Even though Amanda was happy for them, she couldn’t help the unease in her stomach as she had received the engagement party invitation… it was to be held at the clubhouse. She sat down heavily in her chair to scan over the details. Could she do this? Could she face him after all this time? Did she look better or worse since he last saw her? She groaned and without much more hesitation, she sent her rsvp to Sarah.

She was going to have to go shopping. She needed to look like she was winning this break up. Even though she knew, deep down, she may have been loosing.

—

Amanda stood in front of her bedroom mirror and took one final look at her appearance, going over each and every detail. She had had her hair styled into an up do, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed as the sleeves of her dress begun just underneath her shoulders. She’d chosen a nice plum coloured stress and even added some heels to the mix. She was going to do this, she was going to support her friends and let them know she bloody loved them and missed them terribly. Besides, tonight she had some news of her own to deliver to Sarah.

“You’ll be fine love,” Amanda looked over at her ma, “i know you know what he’s been up to ma, just know I’m glad you never told me.” They settled to a spare spot outside the lot, she felt her ma grab her hand, “I raised you to be strong and independent, he was a stupid boy but you are here for Sarah and Ryan. You’re moving on, be proud of that.” Nodding, she took a deep breath and stepped out of the car as gracefully as she could, smiling as her ma linked arms with her. All the memories she had shared at this place started coming to her and she realised she had missed being here, this place had been such an important place to her. God… how could he have destroyed them? Their lives?

She tried really fucking hard to ignore the stares and whispering that was happening. A few of the guys gave her slight nods and she smiled back, but it wasn’t the same. Too much time had passed and she knew he was President now. He was the king, everything he had worked for had finally happened for him, but before she could scan the crowd for her, Sarah crashed into her, hugging her tightly. “Congratulations, it’s about bloody time,” she laughed to her friend, hugging her just as tight. The two parted and she couldn’t help but hug Ryan also, “don’t ever hurt her, because they’ll never find you.” She whispered to him, feeling his chest vibrate as he chuckled, “don’t worry, I can barely function without her. I’m never going to mistreat her.”

The night carried on and Amanda found herself standing in a group with Kozik and a few other outer charter guys, simply shooting the shit, things felt normal and she was enjoying herself. But then she felt it, she felt someone staring at her and she couldn’t tell who it was. Turning her head, she caught his eye and the two ended up just starring at each other, not hearing what was happening around them despite him being a few feet from her still. Her expression was blank, she wasn’t going to give anything away. He had changed, he was more built, more solid than she remembered and his beard was in full swing, but the President patch didn’t go unnoticed ether. Their eyes didn’t stray, not until she felt her phone vibrate in her hand.

“I’m on my way. C.”

She looked back up from the message, saw that Tom was still watching her and finally she sighed before simply shrugging at him. Turning on her heel, she said goodnight to those she was talking to and made her way through everyone to find Sarah, she needed to tell her something important. But as she walked away, she felt relieved, because her and Tom would never be anything again. She no longer felt that magnetic pull towards him, and that sealed the deal for her. They were really over.

“Sarah, can I have a minute?” The two moved to somewhere more quiet, “I want you to know I’m so happy for you,” gosh, how was she supposed to tell her only true friend in the world what she was doing. Looking at her friend, she gave a one armed shrug, “I’m leaving Charming… tonight.” She felt tears starting and laughed softly, “I’m probably making the biggest mistake, but I have to go. This place just isn’t the same for me now.” She hugged her friend tightly once again, “keep me updated on everything. Once I’m settled, I’ll explain it to you. Don’t walk me out, stay and enjoy your night, okay? Go and get stoned with your man.”

Stepping outside, it suddenly felt like the last weight of her troubles was finally coming off her shoulders. So much so that she started grinning to herself, “red, where you going?” She made a stop motion with her hand to Ryan, “I’m moving forward, finally.” Ryan frowned, “stay safe.” Ryan knew Tom was near by with a blonde and a brunette hanging off him, each fighting for the title of Old Lady but he knew Amanda hadn’t seen. He watched as she walked to the end of the lot and he was surprised to see who had pulled up to collect her.

Getting to the car, she gave Cillian a small smile as he got out to open her door, “are you ready love?” he asked as he helped her in, she nodded, “yeah, you still want me to come?” She waited until he was seated in the drivers seat to receive his answer, “I wouldn’t have organised it all back home for you if I didn’t want you with me.”

—-

All she could feel was a nervous energy racing through her body as the plane landed in Belfast, Ireland. Cillian held her hand tightly as they made their way through the airport, his men grabbing their belongings as he ushered her into a car. Her eyes were wide with wonder, trying to take it all in at once. Despite the nerves and excitement, she couldn’t help but begin to question if she really had made the right choice to leave with him. Of course she had wanted out, was sick of living a half life because she couldn’t bare to see Tom or anyone from the club around town, but was moving across the world with a man with ties to that club the best idea? He squeezed her hand and she looked at him, well, if it all went wrong, she could always build herself back up for the second time right?

After a nice, soothing warm shower, Amanda got into some comfortable clothes and began looking around Cillian’s apartment, waiting for him to join her. They needed to have a conversation, one she had had with herself in the shower. She was scanning his bookshelf as he entered the living room with food. “Before we eat, I think we need to draw some lines.” He nodded, telling her to continue, “I need to live separately from you. I can’t get sucked into whatever you’re doing when I’m trying to rebuild myself.” She ran a hand over her face, “I dunno if this even sounds right, I like being with you and whatnot, but I want to remember and find me…” He gave her a grin that could melt her, “you set the pace, I’m just happy that you agreed to join me. And while we are on the subject of sorting ourselves out, I got you a job interview.” He held up his hands before she could but in, “just an interview, you’ll have to win them over, told you I wouldn’t overstep the bounds. Trust me.”

—-

Trust him… well thats exactly what she did. She waited days, weeks and soon months for this all to blow up in her face. For the heartbreak and betrayal to format her full force but it didn’t. Cillian allowed her to rebuild in the ways she needed, gave her the room to breathe when at times it became too much but mostly, he was there when she needed to talk and she found she did have to rehash her past relationship, the relationship that was supposed to be her be all and end all. It had been the final key into being able to completely, and utterly let go of the pain. Life began to not look so grey anymore, she was standing on her own two feet on her terms but without even meaning to, she we aligning herself with Cillian to a blissful point of no return and had no plans to stop.

“Yes Sarah I read the instructions… I don’t know, nothing’s happening.” She let out a shaky breath, “oh by the way, I received the dress, booked in to get it altered just before I fly back.” She laughed, “yeah… I guess I am talking about your wedding at a time like this.” Glancing down, she pinched the bridge of her nose, “is it too late to change my plus one?”

—-

Ryan & Sarah’s

Wedding Day

It had been 12 months since Amanda had left Charming, 12 months since she had been someone she no longer recognised. New job, new life, new world and a new man could work wonders for some. She was undeniably head over heels in love with the Irish man who had convinced her to leave her old life behind. But today wasn’t about her, no, today was about the two people in the world who she loved dearly finally tying the last knot in their lives together. She’d arrived late the night before so no one knew she was here. Of course she had to spend the night before with her best friend, she had missed the hens party, there was no way she was missing this moment.

Morning came quickly, the two having stayed up talking, knowing the make up artist would have fun covering up their under eyes from the lack of beauty sleep but the talk was well needed. As Sarah’s mum got her daughter to eat and consume coffee, Amanda stepped away to get herself ready. Slipping into her dress, she smoothed it into all the right places and adjusted it accordingly, until she was satisfied with the way it sat on her body, figure hugging but understated, there was no question that Sarah had good taste. Her hair was put together perfectly, her make up natural so with one final nod at her reflection, excitement filled her as she made her way through the house to Sarah’s childhood bedroom, “ready to get this dress on?” Sarah’s mum grabbed the gown and the two helped Sarah into it, Amanda getting the lovely honour of zipping and buttoning it into place while Sarah received some words of wisdom from her mum. She looked over her best friends shoulder, looking at their reflection in the mirror, “you look beautiful, he is one lucky man to have you stick by him.”

She helped Sarah get the dress just right before she gave her a hug, “let’s get you married!” She picked up the train of Sarah’s dress and helped her leave the room, wondering if she was ever going to start feeling nervous. There were a lot of people she hadn’t seen in a year who would be here, one person in particular but the nerves never surfaced. She was too busy by the overwhelming joy she felt for her friends and the love she had for a certain man who would be waiting for her at the event. “Ok have we got everything? I��ve given your dad your luggage and he’s assured me it’s where it should be for you both to leave. I have my emergency kit, incase anything goes wrong. We good to go? Right let’s get you in the car!”

Before long, the time came to get ready to walk down the isle. Amanda turned to her best friend, “last chance to run away, I can have you out of her in 5 seconds, 2 if your dad helps me.” She was smiling as she said this, she knew these two would never not be together. “Ok, I’ll see you down there,” the music began to play and she gave Sarah one last hug before it was her time to walk. The moment she stepped out, she felt all eyes in her direction, “it’s fine, they just waiting for Sarah, no big deal, so you look a little different, it’s fiiiiiine.” Ignoring everyone, her eyes scanned the rows of guests as she smiled, her eyes lighting up as she found him sitting close to the front row. He looked handsome as fuck in his crisp, dark grey suit. He winked at her and she felt the faintest blush creep up on her neck and cheeks. God damn.

And then, she had to return her focus on the task at hand. She was Sarah’s Maid of Honour, and naturally everyone knew who Ryan would have chosen as his best man. That’s right, Tom was standing right beside his best friend but he looked a lot different from the last time she had seen him, like the world had hardened him even more. To her surprise, she felt… nothing as she looked towards him, even gave him a small smile of acknowledgement before Ryan caught her attention, “she’s here?” he whispered and she nodded, grinning. Ryan looked at his friend again, about to ask her another question but there was a change in the music and his focus moved to the end of the isle and he felt himself shift on his feet. This was it, fuck he loved her.

Cheers and applause erupted as the newly wed couple shared their first kiss as husband and wife. The two looked even more in love than they had ever looked before, Amanda felt the tears running down her cheeks as she watched them. They linked arms and made their exit, and it was now her turn to link with Tom. He offered his arm and she couldn’t tell if he had wanted to or not, but she linked her arm with his and once again, was shocked that he was having no affect on her. His touch used to make her weak and forget everything, now, he was just another person to her. She could feel how tense he was though as he spoke, “you’re pregnant?” she looked up at him, her eyes damp from tears but a soft smile gracing her features, “I am, 3 months left and then I can hold my little girl.” It was the most she had spoken to him since the night she’d walked out on him, but she wasn’t angry anymore.

As they reached their destination, she unlinked from him and moved to stand in position for a photo and then along with everyone else, cheered the happy couple off as they ventured to the reception. A hand found hers and she lent into the body she felt beside her, “are you alright?” Cillian asked, pulling her close, “I really am, thank you.” They shared a quick kiss before his hand ran protectively over her stomach, “shall we head to the reception? I’m sure Sarah need’s a bathroom break.”

True to form, the reception was in full swing and it looked like it had turned out exactly how Sarah had told Amanda she wanted it. Cillian had stepped away to get her something to eat when Beth, Tom’s mum, approached her. “Wow, you definitely made a change.” A little nervous, Amanda nodded, “that’s one way of putting it. How are you Beth?” The older woman softened slightly, “I’m well love, a lot has changed but some things never do. Tom’s President now,” Amanda watched Beth’s eye sight land on her son, who looked completely disinterested in the blonde who was holding his hand while she spoke to someone. Amanda nodded, “you must be proud.” She didn’t know what to say, at one point this woman was going to be her mother in law, jesus, she had looked to this woman for motherly advice but that felt like a lifetime ago now. “Why didn’t you give him another chance?” Amanda blinked at the question, “Beth, this is not the time, I’m here for Sarah and Ryan. Tom already knows that answer, so you need to go and talk to your son. Excuse me.” Turning on her heal, she walked away from Beth, not wanting to cause a scene. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going but a hand caught hers, “everything ok love?” She relaxed noticing it was Cillian, “it is now, come on, let’s get a decent spot to hear the speeches.”

There were tears of joy and deep love for the couple as Sarah and Ryan shared their first dance as husband and wife. She was grinning at the two of them and she wiped the tears away quickly to applaud them before everyone else was invited to the dance floor. Cillian wrapped her in his protective embrace and the two moved easily to the song. She could feel eyes on her and she couldn’t help but find them, he was clearly ignoring the attempts of his date to get him onto the dance floor. She almost chuckled, good luck with that love, Tom had never been a dancer except with her in their kitchen, and that was only to make her smile. As the memory faded she looked away from him, she wasn’t going to walk down memory lane now. “Ryan looks like the happiest man alive right now,” she looked over towards Ryan and Sarah and nodded against Cillian’s chest, “he’s never wanted anyone else, never been swayed from her. they are forever those two.” “There’s still hope for us,” She leaned up on her toes, minding her stomach and kissed him, “definitely, plenty of time to find out.”

“Congratulations lovely,” Amanda said softly as she and Sarah hugged. Everyone was staring around waiting to say goodbye. “Enjoy the honeymoon and make sure to enjoy the time with just the two of you, without the club.” Next was Ryan and he still looked confused, “it’s just weird seeing you like this… is he being good to you?” “Ryan, you are about to go ravish your wife! Focus on that, I’m totally fine, the moment I’m not is the moment I call you to come and save me ok?” He nodded, “you fucking better.” Everyone waved goodbye as the two of them left, and Amanda really hoped they took the time to enjoy being separated from the club and all that came with it. “I’m just going to say goodbye to ma and then we can get out of here?” Cillian nodded, “I’ll let them know we are on our way.” He walked away as he pulled his phone out and she moved to where her ma was standing. “Hey, time for me to go as well.” Her ma smiled sadly, “alright darling, let me know when you land. Once I’ve sorted out some time off work I’ll be right there for when my granddaughter is born ok?” “of course, I’ll have the spare room waiting for you, I’m definitely going to need you.” Her ma shook her head, “I think you’ve got this, look at how far you’ve already come my dear.” Hugging her mum she took in the motherly comfort, “love you ma.”

“Car is here, let’s go home.” With both hands on her stomach, she nodded, “sounds good.” Cillian carefully lead her to the car that would take them to the plane he had arranged to get them back to Ireland tonight. She hadn’t even felt the eyes watching her, analysing every detail, studying her. The eyes were willing her to turn around, but she didn’t, she was no longer tuned into his presence. She was really gone for good.

—

Leaning on his bike, Ryan flicked the cigarette ash to the ground before the toxic stick was back in his mouth. It was early and the weather was cooling down, he’d had a hard time dragging himself away from Sarah that morning. She was even more tempting when he had a meeting early, she could wrap herself around him in such a way that had him completely lost to her. But just as he considered blowing off this meeting, his phone had gone off, telling him the location and that he better get his ass going. He’d just have to focus on the fact he’d get to shoot some guns in the lot without any repercussions.

A silver car pulled up into the space and he didn’t bother to move, knowing that it would be the Irish, they had set this up about and hour outside of town so they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves. “Ryan, nice to see you again.” The accent was thick but Ryan shook the offered hand, “Cillian, how are you?” he watched the Irish man light up, “can’t complain, are you taking charge today?” Ryan shook his head, “Tom is almost here, he got caught up with another meeting. Not gonna be a problem is it?” he watched the other man frown, “no, I’ve dealt with Tom from the beginning.” Ryan moved his head from side to side, stretching out his neck, “just… don’t mention Amanda and Andy ok?” Before the two could discuss the matter further, another bike joined them and Ryan jumped up, flicked his smoke away and went to meet his boss, his brother while Cillian moved to get his men to organise the guns.

“Bit fucking early for this shit brother,” Ryan said in good humour, “why’d we have to do it at this time? We’ve got nothing else on today.” He listened to Tom’s rather blunt reply, not taking any offence, it was just how he was now. Tom had become more blunt and disconnected since the wedding, jesus, he was still reckless with their work but nothing Ryan said could change anything. “Surprised you were allowed outta bed this morning, miss whats her name sure has her claws in.” it was no secret to anyone that Ryan couldn’t stand Tom’s girlfriend, the girl he’d cheated on Amanda with. He was fairly certain Tom was sleeping around on her too, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The two of them moved to the table set up and Ryan’s mood was slowly improving, “is this the standard order we’ll be receiving?” he asked. “Aye, the Ak-47s and the glocks. I’m still searching for a supplier for the .223s ye requested, but the Aks at this time are not in short supply, so if you need, we can double the order.” Ryan looked at Tom, “that should keep black happy and possibly Alvarez if we still wanna expand, he has been asking.” “Everything is the same with shipping, we’ll send them dismantled, your boys will assemble and then run them to your other charters like discussed. If your into any issues, let us know, we’ve made some connections state side that could benefit you.”

“Anything else?” Ryan lit up another smoke as Tom finally spoke, he watched Cillian look to him, the two becoming eye locked and he wondered how this would play out. “We’d prefer it if you cut ties with the Russian pipeline you’ve previously had. We can handle the gun demand, but we won’t share customers with those bastards.” Ryan shrugged, he’d be happy to drop the Russians, “we’ll put it to a vote.” Cillian nodded to Tom, “let me know how that pans out. Now if you don’t have anything else, we’ve been state side long enough. Keep these, and the ones in the trunk as a sign of good faith. I’ll be back with the major delivery in a weeks time. Ryan, give my families regards to Sarah.”

Ryan and Tom were standing near their bikes, smoking, as the Irish left the lot. They were waiting for a prospect to come with the van to collect the guns. “We can scout another pipeline if you don’t trust the Irish. Though,” he exhaled, “they can definitely keep up with the demand of the other charters.” He looked at his boss, who was like a stone wall, no expression. He inwardly groaned, “let’s get outta here.”