#she was more concerned about the state of my incision than anything

[snzluv3r]

gf officially went through being gaslit at the doctors with me 🎉🙈 held me while i cried afterwards so that was a nice little touch

[carrisarune]

In Your Eyes

Next

Note: This is my second attempt of dropping a fic on this site and I can only ask that you have mercy. This was an attempt to expand on the book and certain scenes with my OC. Here’s hoping it works

Tags: I was inspired by the lovely @jamespotterthefirst and their amazing works into dishing out this fic. I also want to thank them for being willing to listen to all my wild rambles in chat and me bein a weirdo. You’re awesome and I can’t thank you enough.

CHAPTER ONE: FIRST DAY INTO THE FRAY (Part 1)

With one last shove to balance the pile of boxes against the wall, Rai sighed before flopping on the bed. A room under the stairs wasn’t the most ideal place to start in a new city but at least it was something. Given how the majority of his savings and allowance had gone into paying any school debts, he was lucky enough to get the room with his own money and not have to reach out to his family. While both sides of his family were well off, using their money without contributing anything gave him hives. 

On that thought, he shifted to pull out his phone from his pocket and called his parents. It took a few seconds before he heard his mum pick up. He greeted her with a, “Hey Mum, I’m all settled in-” before he was interrupted by his mum fussing over whether he was doing alright and if was really sure he didn’t want them to contact a friend for a better place to stay. 

“Mum, MUM! I’m fine. It’s not the worst place to stay in the city and hey, with enough work, I can get myself a better apartment to stay in” he chirped optimistically. His words only served to have his mum fuss even more before his dad took over. Rai could easily picture his dad calming her with a kiss to the cheek as her voice faded away and was replaced with his father’s rich baritone. 

He sounded amused as he spoke, “We had to stop your mother from grabbing her phone more than a few times today, you think you’re ready for your first day of work tomorrow?” showing his own turn at concern. Rai rolled his eyes as he continued to assure his parents for the next few minutes. Honestly, he managed to take care of himself in medical school, he could take care of himself in a new city. 

After ending the call and seeing he had a few hours to spare, Rai carefully pulled a box of books towards him and pulled out a few he could study. As he pulled out one particular old but well-loved book, he gave a grin. It was still hard to believe that he was going to start his residency at Edenbrook tomorrow. Who knows what kind of challenges he would be facing on the job. Plus, having the chance to work and be mentored by some of the top doctors? Rai wasn’t even sure he could sleep with all the excitement buzzing through him. 

Suddenly, he heard the sound of rumbling from the ceiling and gave a sigh. Well, if that was going to be a constant thing, maybe it was best to turn in early. Here was hoping he’d get a comfier place in the future. 

Stepping out of the cab and taking in the hospital, Rai couldn’t stop the grin that overtook his face before he practically ran inside. Once inside though, he realized he didn’t know where to go and paused. Tilting his head in thought, he looked around for anything that might give him directions. He then felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around to see a woman with curly brown hair and a warm smile. “Hi!” she greeted, “You look lost. Let me guess… first day of your medical residency?” and Rai nodded enthusiastically. She directed him to a corner where a camera and a white sheet was set up near the reception. 

He hoped that he didn’t stand out too much from the crowd. But being an Asian with windswept black hair and sharp brown eyes, Rai was sure he’d garner some curious looks like he did in school. Once he settled his ID and managed to get some helpful advice from the doctor whom he learned was Dr. Ines DeLarosa, he headed for orientation. 

On the way there through the waiting room though, Rai suddenly heard gasps and turned to see a woman collapse to the ground. Quickly moving as he saw the other patients start to crowd around her, he called, “Everyone please step back! I’m a doctor” and moved to check on the woman. As he did, an attending rushed in, kneeled by her side, and checked her pulse. “Pulse is weak. She’s unresponsive” he announced then looked around before catching sight of Rai. 

Without hesitation, he ordered, “You. Rookie. Get in here” and Rai quickly moved to obey with a, “Yes Doctor!” The woman was then lifted to a gurney before the doctor turned to a male nurse and asked, “What was she in for? Did she fill out a form yet?” to which the nurse replied with a negative. This clearly didn’t please the doctor as he stated, “If we don’t figure out what’s wrong with her fast, she’s gonna die on this table” before telling Rai to check the patient’s B.P. 

Doing as instructed, he peered at the numbers before announcing it’s quick descent and the patient’s immediate need for fluids. While the nurse was preparing the IV, Rai noticed the rapidly forming bruise on the patient’s elbow. Knowing that she had not landed on that elbow, Rai’s mind began to rapidly speed through possibilities as he noticed the patient’s fingertips were also turning blue. 

When he called the symptoms to attention and noted how the patient was most likely lacking oxygen, Rai saw the doctor nod in approval before instructing him to check on the patient’s lungs. The moment Rai did, he felt panic settle in upon hearing the failing of the organ. Urgently announcing his findings, he tried to reign in spiraling thoughts while the attending calmly announced a Code Blue and began to gently pump air into the patient. 

Digging his nails into his palm to center himself, Rai asked, “What can we do doctor? The problem hasn’t been confirmed yet” his mind whirling through all possible answers. With intense blue eyes piercing into Rai’s, the doctor told him, “Consider all the clues. It’s all there. You know this, Rookie.” Rai unclenched his hand to bite at a fingertip as he muttered the symptoms before exclaiming, “It’s a hemothorax!” thoughts coming to focus as the answer came to him. “Precisely. A blood vessel ruptured and is filling her pleural cavity…” the doctor started and Rai continued, “...blocking her lungs expanding! Hence the failure!” Then another thought popped in, “But since there’s no time to repair the vessel, that means…” Rai trailed off.

“We’ll have to do an emergency thoracotomy to drain the cavity instead. Nurse!” the attending called. To Rai’s shock, he finds himself handed a test tube and socket while the attending lift’s the patient’s shirt to expose the side of her ribcage. Blood roaring in his ears as he gripped at the scalpel, Rai gulped as he muttered, “No time for anesthesia… have to make the incision at the fifth intercostal space… anterior… to the mid… damn it, get a grip Hayashi!” growling at his trembling hand holding the scalpel. 

He jolted when felt the doctor steady his hand with his and their eyes met once more as the doctor told him, “Hey… You can do this.” Gripping onto those words, Rai took a breath before steadying his hand and carefully making the incision. He faintly heard the doctor’s encouragement before following the instruction to insert the tube. 

The moment the patient gasped for breath, Rai felt all remaining tenseness leave him before nodding to the doctor in silent thanks. As the doctor gave orders for the patient to be taken to surgery and the onlookers applauded, Rai released a heavy breath. He carefully rubbed his hands and with a breathless laugh, he said to the doctor, “Uh… well, that was… pretty amazing” barely believing that he barely started a shift and he managed to help save a patient. Calm as can be, the doctor retorted, “You’re right. it’s pretty amazing you didn’t get her killed’, his words causing Rai’s smile to freeze. Seeing the other lost for words, the doctor ruthlessly continued, “Your examination was slow and superficial. Your scalpel technique amateur at best…”

Before he could stop himself, Rai jokes, “In that case, maybe you should give me some private lessons” and the moment he did, his mind screeched, “(YOU FECKIN IDIOT!!!)” while alarms blared. Of all reactions, Rai did not expect the doctor to be amused, “Ha! I just might, Doctor…” he said, lifting Rai’s lanyard to read his ID, “Hayashi. But I sincerely doubt you could afford my salary” before tossing it back and walking away. 

It was one thing to suddenly have his ID grabbed, but hearing his last name be pronounced right left him more than a little breathless. He quickly took a breath to reel himself in before ruffling his head and groaning, “… Please tell me I didn’t just make a total fool of myself in front of a top doctor” a whimper tinting his words towards the end. 

The same male nurse from earlier walked over and patted his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, Dr. Ramsey is like that with everyone.” Hearing the doctor’s name, Rai’s brain conjured the Looney Tunes ending theme, replacing the ending catchphrase with “You’re Screwed!” as he buried his face in his hands. “Greaaat, so not only do I mess up my first impression with an attending, I made a fool of myself in front of my medical hero of all people” he bemoaned. Clearly trying to cheer him up, the nurse chimed, “On the bright side, you’ll get plenty more chances to impress him” and Rai smiled in thanks. Once he learned the nurse’s name was Danny and introductions were made, Rai looked down to see his scrubs had been stained with blood and sighed.

Asking for directions to the locker room, he thanked Danny as he was led the way. Once inside, Rai searched for his locker, only to come face to face with a beautiful woman with dark skin and black hair in her underwear. Quickly turning about-face, Rai shut his eyes, “Sorry about that, do you need some privacy?” he asked. The woman seemed amused at his reaction, “How’d you make it through medical school without seeing a bra?” she asked and Rai shrugged. He turned to move away and reply only to bump into a muscular male; “Go easy on him, Jackie. It’s the first day for all of us” Rai heard him say. 

The woman, now identified as Jackie retorted, “Hey, I can be friendly… if you stay out of my way.” Rai couldn’t help but snort at that before piping, “To answer your question, I got away by being respectful, my parents didn’t raise no creep” rocking on his heels. 

The shirtless male barked a laugh, “We got ourselves a smart one here then” he joked before extending a hand with a playful wink. “Bryce Lahela, a.k.a. your new favorite surgical intern. Pleasure’s all mine” he introduced only for Jackie to snark, “Ignore the meathead, he’s a scalpel jockey.” Rai accepted Bryce’s hand with a grin, “Rai Hayashi. Internal medicine, nice to meet you!” Jackie nodded at that, “Guess you’re with me then. C’mon, we’re gonna be late” she said before slipping into her scrubs. 

Going from his first impression, Rai thought it was best to be quick and follow after. It didn’t take long for the trio to reach the main atrium where the rest of the interns were listening to an impressive, statuesque woman up front. From the sound of things, she was already in the middle of orientation. Peering at the woman’s face, Rai tried to place her face before perking. He leaned towards Bryce and whispered, “Isn’t that Harper Emery? I thought she was with the surgical team?” 

Jackie gave a smirk as she overheard, “You’re a little late on the news there Hayashi, she’s the hospital’s new chief.” Rai nodded in acknowledgement before listening to the rest of the speech. As she ended her speech and the interns burst in applause, Rai joined in and grinned at his fellow colleagues only to catch something, or rather someone in the crowd. 

Out of all the interns, there was a young woman who was not clapping with the rest. Frankly, she looked rather unimpressed with everything. Before Rai could think further on it, he hears Dr. Emery announce that they would be meeting their senior residents tomorrow and for today, they would be partnering up for their first patient and that assignments were on the board. 

Waving goodbye and wishing Bryce good luck as he left to join his group, Rai moved to peer at the board. Once he found his and his partner’s name, he tilted his head, “Huh, I’m partnered with… A. Emery?” he mused out loud. An intern with curly hair exclaimed, “Like, Chief of Medicine Dr. Emery?!” and Rai turned to him. “It says A. Emery, so I’m sure it meant a relative, unless Emery somehow became a common last name without anyone knowing” Rai joked and a loud snort was heard followed by an, “I wish.” Everyone turns to the source and it’s revealed to be the unimpressed intern that Rai saw earlier. 

He walked up to her with a smile and held out his hand, “Hi! A. Emery right? I’m Rai Hayashi, it looks like we’ll be partners for this assignment. Are you alright with me calling you Dr. Emery or something else? I mean, if you want,; it’s tough that people pile on expectation when it comes to certain last names. Oh wait, I didn’t even get your first name, my bad” he babbled, though still maintained his bright smile. For a moment, the female intern looked surprised before her expression turned cool and she shook his hand, “Dr. Aurora Emery, Dr. Emery is fine. Anyone tell you that you talk… a lot?” she said and Rai gave a chuckle. “My bad, I was just excited to work my first assignment, let’s go?” he offered and Aurora gave a curt nod; the two breezed past the crowd before anything else could be said.

On the way to their patient, the two managed to have an amicable agreement on their partnership for the assignment. Though he had read the chart, Rai still felt a pang as they entered the room and saw the young patient named Annie. Still, he managed to push through with Aurora taking her vitals while he made the patient more comfortable and asked more on what happened before they ended up in the hospital. 

After leaving Annie with further reassurances and taking note of her symptoms and other unrecorded injuries. Just as they were discussing submitting their findings for lab work, Aurora was paged by her aunt. Rai gave a wince upon hearing the announcement from the P.A System, “Go ahead. I’ll handle things and keep you updated. Good luck” he encouraged.

Aurora peered at him for a moment, as if she was trying to figure him out before she nodded and left. After making the submission, Rai found himself busy with other patients. By the time he managed to have a minute to himself, Rai was close to just squatting on the floor to rest. Just as he was about to do just that, a nurse came up to him with the results. 

Looking them over and noting the uncommon strain of bacteria, he advised for some antibiotics and some observation on the effects before thanking the nurse for their work. With that done, Rai took a moment to breath before heading off to continue his rounds. Only, he realized later, in his attempt to head back to Annie’s room, he had somehow gotten himself lost.

He looked around to see if there was anything familiar, but as he turned around, he ended up bumping into another intern who dropped the textbook they were reading. “Sorry!” Rai exclaimed before bending down to pick up the fallen book and held it out. The intern waved his apologies, giving his own apologies before introducing himself as Landry Olsen. When he was handing the book back, Rai saw a peek of the cover, “Oh hey! ‘Diagnostic Principles by Ethan Ramsey’, you a fan?” he asked. Landry grinned, “Yeah, I totally worship the guy. Shrine in my basement and everything” he said before immediately stating, “Kidding! I’m kidding. I never know it’s clear when I’m joking,” his words caused something to itch at the back of Rai’s head but he ignored it. 

“Well, here’s hoping you give a better first impression than I did,” Rai offered and Landry gave a gasp of recognition. Apparently, the whole incident from the morning had already made his rounds. Landry was gushing on how lucky Rai was and how he wished he hadn’t been early to work, wishing he had the chance to meet Dr. Ramsey. Quite honestly, Rai had been trying to not cringe into a ball as he listened to Landry’s words. When the other trailed off and seemed to stare in shock at something, Rai followed his line of sight and saw the very man being talked about at the end of the hall. 

“(Whelp, time to find the nearest window and yeet myself then)”

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Sixteen) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, murder, mentions of sexual assault, literally everything Criminal Minds, okie.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 9247

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 23. Right after part fifteen.

It was a sad and quiet walk to the car as Morgan, Hotch, Emily, and I all headed to the crime scene. When we got there, the door to Rebecca’s apartment was wide open. There was no sign of forced entry, which meant that she had originally believed that he was Gideon, like she said on the phone, so she invited him in. The house phone that I had called was smashed on the ground in the living room, and there was a single cup of coffee on the table in front of the couch. I reached down and felt the outside of the mug to find that it was cold. Frank was long gone, just as expected.

Morgan kicked the bedroom door open after jiggling the locked door handle around. Hotch and Morgan took the lead heading inside while Emily and I kept pressure on the tail end for backup, not that it ultimately mattered. After the door flew open, we discovered Rebecca’s body on her bed in the same state that the woman in Gideon’s apartment had been found.

Hotch sighed to himself and took a step out of the apartment. I followed for a brief moment, but I didn’t end up going any further than the couch in the living room. I took a quiet seat and hid my face in my hands. There must have been some hope still brewing in my chest on the car ride over because seeing Rebecca hit my heart harder than it should have. I didn’t know her. I didn’t have any connection to her other than being a part of her rescue team that night we saved her. And yet, I felt almost responsible for her. We could have done more to protect her. We should have called her first. At the time, it didn’t make sense to call one potential target over another, but I should have just done it… She could perhaps still have been alive if we just called a few minutes sooner to warn her.

Emily walked by, “I’m going to check on Hotch,” she told me. I nodded and whispered a thank you.

“Y/N,” Morgan called my name from the bedroom. “You should come take a look at this…”

He sounded concerned about something, so I sucked in a brave breath before stepping into the room. Morgan was holding evidence in his gloved hands, searching through a stack of… whatever it was he found… As I approached, Morgan held the evidence out to the side, but he didn’t look up at me, almost like he was too scared to. Hesitantly, I took what he was offering in order to look for myself. The second it was out of his hands, Morgan turned to find something else to work on.

I looked down at my hands and the evidence they were holding. Within an instant, I felt like yelping or screaming, yet nothing came out. As my blood ran cold, I stayed paralyzed and looked at the photos in my hands. All this time, I thought that they had burned in the fire; yet there they were. Intact and staring back at me.

I swallowed hard. “Has Hotch or Emily seen these?” Morgan shook his head, though still refusing to look at me. I didn’t blame him after what he had just seen. I wouldn’t want to look at me either. “Don’t tell him,” I quietly begged.

“It’s evidence, Y/N.”

“They don’t exist,” I insisted, putting them in the inside pocket of my jacket. “They burned in the fire at Randall Garner’s home.”

“Y/N—“ he turned around, finally finding enough dignity to look at me.

I stared him down, “They don’t… exist.” His eyes frantically searched mine, but I stayed calm. “Hotch can never see them.”

Morgan kept staring at me as if it would change my mind. It wouldn’t. I genuinely thought that this had all ended the night Randall Garner died and his house burned down. I thought that the images he stole from me disappeared with him. There wasn’t a single day since then where I even thought about those photos, because why would I when I had tried so hard to forget them in the first place and then I had reason to believe that they had been wiped from existence. Not once did the thought cross my mind of there being a possibility that those photos were still out there. If I would have known, I would have searched through heaven and hell to find them and burn them myself. Yet there they were now, hiding in my jacket, out of sight of the one person I didn’t want to ever lay eyes on them. Hotch was a well grounded, smart man. He didn’t like to use his position at the FBI for any kind of personal gain— including finding people or digging up dirt on whomever he wanted. But if he saw those pictures… If he knew that they really were, he wouldn’t stop until he found the boy that did that to me, and he would kill him. Therefore, Hotch could never know, the same way Elle could never know. That was, if I ever ended up seeing my sister again.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he whispered to me.

I shook my head, “They don’t exist. It never happened.”

His face softened, “Y/N—”

“It never happened, Morgan. Please. Just… drop it…”

“You know that I, of all people, get it. Right? You can talk to me.”

“And you should know, of all people, that I just want you to drop it and never talk about it again.”

Morgan took a physical step back to signify him backing down from the conversation. He turned back to looking around the room for more evidence, meanwhile I paced around the bed to look at Rebecca’s body. It was left in an identical state compared to the body last night. Her stomach had been cut open, obvious organs missing— but I wouldn’t know until Reid or a coroner could take a look. There was an incision on the left side of her chest, just where there was easy access to a rib, if that was really what his M.O. was. I froze and squinted when I noticed that she was clutching something in her right palm.

“Morgan,” I called his attention over. I pried Rebecca’s hand open slightly and slid the piece of paper out of her tight grip. “It says ‘7AM, Union Station. I’ll trade her for Jane.’” Morgan and I exchanged a glance. “Hotch!” I yelled. Him and Emily came in a few seconds later and I handed the note to him.

“So he’s taken someone else already,” Emily spoke up. 

“Or at least he’s planning on it.”

“Let’s think about this. All other eight possible targets are safe and accounted for, so what— or who— did we miss?” Morgan questioned. “Frank isn’t capable of feeling the same feelings we do, but he enjoys mimicking them because he finds it fun. He takes what other people hold sacred and he uses it against them. So what does that say about his next target?”

“People hold women and children most sacred,” Emily worked out. “He said that he’d be willing to trade ‘her’ for Jane, but he wouldn’t have given that detail if he didn’t want us to narrow down the list, so it has to be a kid.”

“Call JJ and ask her to search through all of the child victims we’ve worked with in recent years and have moved to the D.C. area so recently that Gideon wouldn’t have it marked down,” Hotch told Emily. Emily left the bedroom. “Did you guys find anything else in here?”

Morgan looked over at me like he was waiting for some kind of cue to admit what he found, but I shook my head vaguely. “We didn’t find anything else,” Morgan answered finally.

“Hotch,” Emily said breathlessly as she ran back in, “JJ says that the only girl who matches the description and isn’t accounted for is a girl named Tracey Belle.” Hotch eyes shot wide. “She also says that they found Jane.”

“Okay, go back to the office to meet up with JJ and sort things out with Jane. Morgan, stay here with the crime scene while the PD is on their way, Y/N and I will go to the Belle’s residence. Have JJ send us the address. Let’s go.”

Hotch and I hurried to McLean, Virginia where Tracey Belle’s family had moved to after our team saved her from a child Unsub long before I joined the team. I knew nothing about Tracey Belle or the case she was involved in, except for the fact that there was a boy in her grade who was luring other kids to the woods and murdering them out there. Tracey was supposed to be his last victim, but the team managed to get there in time to stop him before anything could happen. Thankfully. But now, there was a strong chance that Frank had her. She was going to relive her worst nightmares all over again…

The sun was already down again with another day concluded, which was both a blessing and a curse. While the darkness would help Hotch and I approach the house undetected, it also meant that Frank could hide or run and we wouldn’t even know it— or even worse, he could have already killed Tracey.

Hotch kicked down the door and I pushed into the house first with my weapon and flashlight raised. We moved quickly and quietly, checking every corner of the living room, kitchen, and dining room. When there was no sign of a struggle or Tracey at all, we moved down the hallway towards the bedrooms. The first door on our left was open, and it looked like Tracey’s father’s office. Past that, on the right, was Tracey’s parents’ room, which was also empty. The last room to check was Tracey’s room at the end of the hall on the left again. The door was closed, unlike the other rooms. I gave Hotch a short nod as I put my hand on the doorknob, and he returned the signal. I turned the handle, pushed the door open as fast and hard as I could, and Hotch ran in first.

Empty. Entirely empty.

There was no sign of Tracey or her family anywhere. While that seemed like a loss— which, in reality, it technically was— it was also still a win. If Frank was going to hurt Tracey, he would have already killed her in her home like he had done with the other victims. From the looks of it, he took Tracey. The only question was, however, where were her parents?

“I’ll call a forensics team,” Hotch said. “Call Morgan and have him meet us here.”

While Hotch turned to call the office, I grabbed my phone and dialed Morgan. I asked if he was done at Rebecca’s house yet, and he told me that they were just bagging up her body and then the crime scene cleaners were going to come in, which he didn’t need to be there for. I told him that we needed him down at the Belle’s residence as soon as possible. He sighed and hesitantly asked me if she was dead.

“No. Frank just took her.”

“I’m on my way.”

Thirty minutes later, while Hotch and I were casing the house as best we could ourselves, Morgan and the forensics team showed up with the local sheriff's department. We stepped out of the house to let them do what they needed to do in order or to determine exactly what happened to Tracey. Morgan met us out front and we started to discuss why Frank would have possibly taken Tracey, of all people. According to them, Frank wasn’t fond of children, which was why the school bus hostages were a shock to them in the first place, but now this? He was getting desperate. He was losing track of who he enjoyed murdering because he was so focused on Jane. That being said, he didn’t kill Tracey, so maybe she was meant to be a gift for Jane, and in that case, Tracey would be safe unless we didn’t give Frank what he wanted.

“That’s our house, Charlie!” someone shouted from the road.

Hotch, Morgan, and I looked over to see Tracey’s parents getting out of their car and running up towards the house. The three of us stepped in their path to make sure they wouldn’t get through. I recognized the worry on their faces as uncontrollable panic about their daughter’s safety, but we wouldn’t let them into the house until the forensics team was done inside.

“You have to let us in,” Mrs. Belle told us desperately while trying to push past me. “My daughter’s inside.”

“You can’t go in right now,” Hotch tried to explain to them calmly.

“Where’s Tracey? Where’s my daughter?”

“Mrs. Belle—” I began, but she didn’t listen. She was still fighting against me as if I would suddenly budge and move out of her way, but I was going to do no such thing.

“What’s important to know right now is that Tracey is, in fact, alive,” Hotch said. Mr. Belle saw an opportunity to push through Morgan and Hotch, so he attempted to take it, but Morgan caught him before he could make it to the door. “Sir, she’s not in there!” Mr. Belle threw his hands up in surrender and stepped back. “We’re going to find her, I promise,” he said to both parents.

Mrs. Belle stopped fighting against me and suddenly broke down in my arms. She fell to her knees with me barely catching her in time, and she began to sob. Mr. Belle hurried over and took Mrs. Belle from my arms so that he could hold her as they both cried. They thought that all of this was over after they moved… They thought that their daughter was safe because our team had saved her before, but now she was gone and we were back on their doorstep.

The way Mrs. Belle cried and screamed out for her baby shattered my heart as the three of us stood around and watched. She rocked in her husband’s embrace and tried to muffle her sobs, but they were so agonizingly painful in her heart and chest that she couldn’t hold them back. My jaw clenched as I swallowed back the feeling of needing to cry in response. The tears that had started welling my eyes disappeared after I looked away and blinked furiously to make the fog over my eyes go away.

“We should go back to the office,” I whispered to Hotch. I was too scared to say anything louder than that because I thought that the sob collecting in my throat would escape if I raised my voice above a whisper. I took in a steady breath before stepping around the Belles.

If what Emily said earlier about JJ locating Jane was still true, they were likely back at the BAU already interrogating her for information, and since we hadn’t received another call from them, I was going to go out on a limb and guess that they weren’t getting anything of use yet. Hotch was the best interrogator we had, if anyone could do it, it was him. We were practically useless at the crime scene now, there was no point in staying when he could be finding a way to end this once and for all without giving Jane to Frank again and without getting Tracey killed. There had to be answers. There had to be a way to get that little girl back to her family.

“We need to talk,” Morgan said, coming up to me as I leaned against the side of the car while waiting on Hotch. I opened my mouth to protest because I knew exactly where this was headed, but he put up a hand to tell me to be quiet and just listen, so I decided to give him a shot at not making my night any worse than it already was. “You know what I went through growing up. I didn’t want people to know the truth either, yet they found out. They always find out, Y/N. Everyone got hurt and lost their trust in me because I chose to hide that secret over helping them find the man responsible. Hotch still struggles to trust me sometimes.” He shifted his weight on his feet. “You can’t keep it a secret forever even though you think you can. That man over there loves you more than anything in the world. I have never in my life seen anyone look at another person the way the two of you look at each other. You don’t want to lose that because of these photos, Y/N. It’s not worth it.”

“It’s not for him to know, though. It happened decades ago. What’s the point in bringing it all back up when all it will do is hurt people? Nothing will be solved suddenly if I show him the pictures and tell Hotch every single thing that boy did to me. He’s better off not knowing.”

“If it were Hotch keeping a secret like this from you, wouldn’t you want to know?”

I paused. Truthfully, I would want to know. But it wasn’t fair of Morgan to force the decision on me like this. He was right that I knew exactly what happened to him, but he forgot that I also knew how adamant he was about not telling anyone and how when I pieced it together myself, I didn’t tell anyone because it was his secret to tell when he wanted. Telling Hotch the truth was the most petrifying concept to me. During the Fisher King case, I had hinted to him what happened, but he didn’t know the extent of it, and he certainly didn’t need to see the photos.

“Does it get any better after they know?” I asked him.

Morgan’s eyes fluttered as he looked at the ground. “No,” he shook his head, “I don’t suppose it does.”

“You know that I love and respect you, Morgan… but I just… I need to think about it, at least.”

“Are you two ready to go?” Hotch asked as he met us at the car. Neither of us looked up at him or each other. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head and relaxed my shoulders. “Nothing.” I opened the car door and got in.

At the BAU, Reid met us as the elevator doors opened. He explained that Jane had turned herself in to local police because she had nowhere else to go and she wanted to talk with Gideon. He also said that she seemed on edge. She was scared, obviously, but there was something more to it than that, but no one could figure out what.

When we entered the mirror room, I could see that Emily and JJ were still in the interrogation room with Jane, trying to get her to talk while she held onto a brown paper bag for dear life. Morgan and Reid took a few side steps to stand in front of the window, but I moved to follow Hotch into the interrogation room.

“Stay in here, Y/N,” Hotch said. “She doesn’t know you, so it might turn her off from talking if there’s someone in the room that she doesn’t recognize.” I nodded agreeingly and went to stand in front of the mirror with Morgan and Reid.

Jane clutched the bag closer to her chest. “Frank hasn’t hurt anyone, has he? He wouldn’t do that… Not while he has me…”

“But he doesn’t have you, Jane,” JJ explained. “We do.”

“Why did you leave Frank? What changed?” Emily asked.

“Frank changed,” Jane answered. “Agent Gideon warned me that this would happen, but I didn’t believe him when I should have. Frank isn’t who he says he is. That’s why Frank’s mad with Agent Gideon because he knows everything about Frank. That’s why I need to see him.”

“Frank wants Agent Gideon to stop him, doesn’t he?” Hotch inquired quietly from the corner. Everyone was using hushed tones with her because she was such a fragile woman. Anything over a whisper would have made her spiral, which we didn’t have time for.

“Well, if anyone can stop him, it’s Agent Gidoen.”

“Not without you, Jane.”

“What do you mean?”

Hotch changed the subject, “Tell me what you know about Frank. Where is he from?”

“Manhattan. He talked about it all the time. He told me about where he lived and how he grew up, everything. He wanted me to know everything.”

“Did he say where in Manhattan?”

She shook her head, “No, but he said that he lived with his mother, Mary Breitkopf. Just his mother, though. He never knew his father, but he still despised him. He loved his mother more than anything. She would take him to the fair, and to the movies when they could afford it, they would have dinner parties when they couldn’t, and she read stories to him every night. He even had me read some of them to him to help him sleep.”

“Did Frank try to kill anyone else while you guys were on the run?”

“Is it wrong to love Frank?” she dodged Hotch’s question by asking Emily another one. Emily raised a curious brow. “You know, since he is what he is… Is it wrong?”

“You don’t choose who you love,” Emily answered.

My eyes unconsciously switched to look at Hotch. He looked at the mirror as if he could see me and I realized that he was thinking the same thing. We would fight tooth and nail for each other and to make our relationship work, just as I had told him in the car the night before. Jane seemed to feel that way about Frank, but we knew what kind of man he was, and there was no way that he could return the same desperate feelings.

Hotch looked back at the table in the middle of the room. “Jane, did Frank try to kill anyone else?”

She nodded, “Me…” She lowered her head as she started to cry quietly. “We had an argument, and as it blew up, I said that Agent Gideon was right, and he became so angry. So I ran and I didn’t look but.” She looked back up, “But he won’t try to kill anybody else. I promise.”

“He’s already killed two people, Jane,” JJ said. “And he’s not going to stop until he gets you back.”

“Oh…”

There was a knock at the door suddenly. Morgan, Reid, and I all turned to see who it was. Anderson poked his head into the room and told us that there was a call for Hotch and that it was extremely urgent. When I inquired about who it was, he said that it was Tracey Belle. I immediately reached for the door to the interrogation room and told Hotch that we had a problem. Hotch uncrossed his arms and hurried past me, Morgan, Reid, and Anderson. We all ran after him as Anderson tried to explain that it was Tracey Belle who had called and she sounded upset— which, of course she fucking was, Frank had her.

“Hello?” Hotch welcomed as he picked up the phone on his desk and put it on speaker for us to hear.

“Agent Hotchner,” Frank began, “we asked for Agent Gideon, not you. Put him on the phone.”

Hotch reached down to the phone and speed dialed Garcia’s number since Gideon didn’t have his phone on him. When she picked up, Hotch said, “Garcia, put Jason on the phone. There’s someone who wants to talk to him.”

“Who is this?” Gideon asked once he had the phone.

“Jason?” Tracey questioned, her voice shaking with fright. “It’s Tracey Belle.”

“Go on, Tracey,” Frank encouraged from the background. “Just like we practiced.”

“Please, Mr. Gideon,” Tracey sniffled, “you have to help me. You saved me once before. Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember you, Tracey. How could I ever forget you?” Gideon chuckled lightly and playfully, trying to brighten Tracey’s mood. “Tracey, everything’s going to be alright.”

“I’m scared, Mr. Gideon… I want my mommy…”

I sat down on the couch in Hotch’s office as I choked back that same need to cry that I felt at the Belle’s residence. Tracey was crying out for her mother in the same way that Mrs. Belle had been crying out for her daughter. It all rang in my head over and over again, the crying and the screaming.

“Jason,” Frank sing-songed into the call.

“You son of a bitch,” Gideon cursed into the phone. “I swear I will find you no matter what it takes and I will take you down.”

“Shhh,” Frank cooed. “I chose the station because I know of your interest in trains. I saw the toys in your apartment before I killed your date.” And then he hung up.

Silence hung in the air as we all stared at each other. We only had a few hours until the sun would start to rise and we were supposed to meet Frank at Union Station with Jane. There was no other choice than to play by his rules, though, right? If we wanted to get that little girl back to her family safe, then we needed to give him Jane. That being said, there was no way in hell Frank actually believed that we would let him get away again. Even if we did give him Jane, they weren’t going to get very far. D.C. and Virginia was our turf, not his. We knew how to tear apart the entire East coast if need be. He wasn’t going to win again. Especially since he made it personal with Gideon this time around.

Hotch picked up the phone and dialed the SWAT team to let them know that we would be heading to Union Station around 6:30 in order to be there on time for 7AM. Morgan paced around the room, biting at his nails, and Reid sat down on the couch with me while lost in thought. He was likely thinking of a way to get Frank after this was all over with. We knew that no matter what, we had to be the ones to get to Frank, because if Gideon got there first, he would kill him, and Reid couldn’t afford to lose Gideon because of a dumb mistake.

Morgan stopped pacing when Hotch hung up the phone and looked up at the three of us. “Boardroom. Now. Reid, get Emily and JJ.”

Reid stood and ran to the interrogation room to go collect them, and in the meantime, Hotch, Morgan, and I walked down the lifted walkway outside of Hotch and Gideon’s offices and into the boardroom. Hotch pulled up a map of the train station on the TV and we started making our plan for how we were going to clear the station, get to Frank, find out where Tracey was, and then arrest Frank. We had to be exact. There was no room for error. Fucking this up could result in either Tracey’s death or Frank getting away again— or both, if we were too careless.

“Hotch, we think we might know where Frank is keeping Tracey Belle,” JJ said as she, Emily, and Reid all stormed into the room. Hotch raised a curious brow. “Jane said that he is obsessed with his mother. Well, I did some digging, and it says that she’s still living in the Upper East Side in New York. Since taking Tracey, he would have had enough time to drive up there, leave her with his mother, and he could be back in time for our meeting at Union Station.”

“He would want to get her as far from us as possible,” Emily shrugged, explaining further, “just to make sure that we don’t get to her before he gets Jane.”

Hotch nodded, “No lead is a bad lead. JJ and Reid, take the jet to Mary Breitkopf’s home, see if you can find Tracey there. Meet with the field office there and have a task force go with you. We can’t afford to let Frank or his mother get away.”

JJ and Reid left together to get ready for their flight to New York while the rest of us looked back at the map of the train station. Hotch showed us exactly what plan he had in mind for the 7AM meet time. Our team, along with backup from SWAT, would move into the station and clear it out as quietly as possible. Frank won’t leave or hide in the crowd because he knows that this is his only chance of getting Jane back— just like when he stayed around in the diner in Nevada. Hotch was going to talk to Frank first, see if he would budge and tell us where Tracey was, even though that wasn’t very realistic. Eventually, we would have to show Jane to Frank in order to get Tracey’s location, since by the time Reid and JJ would get to his mother’s house in New York to check if she was there, this would all be unfolding. If it came down to it, we would have to give Jane over to Frank, and he would likely tell us to wait so that they could run again; but the local PD would have road blocks surrounding the area to make sure that he wouldn’t get too far. Our job would be to help find Frank once he was gone, but there wasn’t much we could do to stop him while at the station if things progressed, unfortunately. 

At 6:30, we geared up and headed out to Union Station. The SWAT team was waiting in the back of the parking lot for us since they didn’t want to scare off the public or Frank just yet. We needed to make sure that Frank remained calm until 7AM when we would find him somewhere inside, so it was a safer bet if our team went in quietly without our weapons out. People were in too much of a hurry around the station to notice a few FBI agents spread out amongst the building. Hotch put me and Emily on guard at the inside platform, and Morgan and Hotch were going to take the lobby. We headed in quietly and calmly, Emily and I splitting off from the boys as soon as we entered the building.

For the thirty or so minutes leading up to 7AM, Emily and I paced and searched the platforms to see if we could spot Frank anywhere. If we were lucky enough, we’d catch him in the crowd and we could take him in for interrogation over anything else. Frank liked being in control and being powerful, and by taking a hostage, he had both because we were playing by his rules. But if we shoved him in a dark, windowless interrogation room for long enough, he would tell us where Tracey was.

At 6:58AM exactly, the SWAT team moved into the station to start clearing out all of the civilians. Emily and I searched every face that passed by us to make sure that Frank wouldn’t slip out— just in case our profile of him was wrong. He wanted Jane, yes, but maybe he would get scared off by all of the armed agents running around. But there was no sign of him on the inside platform after everyone cleared out. Even if he was on the outside ones, he would have needed to pass by us or the boys in the lobby. He was either waiting somewhere for us or he was long gone.

“The building’s clear,” we heard from the SWAT team through the comms. Emily and I exchanged a glance. “Target spotted on the platform outside. Target spotted.”

“Emily, get Jane,” Hotch said over the comms.

Emily turned around and headed back for the lobby and the parking lot where Jane was sitting in one of the cars, waiting for us to get her. I immediately jumped onto my toes and started racing for the tunnel that led to the outside platform. The platform was entirely clear except for Frank, who was sitting alone on a bench, and Morgan and Hotch who were carefully approaching. Morgan passed the back of the bench to stand on Frank’s left side, while Hotch and I stood on his right side.

Hotch stood his ground and stared at the man sitting on the only bench on that side of the platform. “Frank,” he greeted casually.

“Agent Hotchner. Agent Greenaway. It’s a pleasure to formally meet both of you finally.”

“Where’s Tracey Belle?” Hotch wasn’t having any of Frank’s shit. We weren’t going to give up Jane until we knew for sure that Tracey was still alive and well. When Frank didn’t respond, Hotch asked again, to which he was met with Frank asking if we brought Jane. “Maybe we did. Tell us where Tracey Belle is and we’ll give you Jane.”

Frank tsked his tongue, “That’s not how this is going to work, Agent Hotchner. I see Jane first and I will tell you exactly where the girl is.”

Hotch sucked in a deep breath, his face still sour and flat. He waited another minute in silence before lifting his wrist comm to his mouth and telling Emily to bring Jane out. The platform was quiet again as everyone maintained their footing and aim at Frank. The clacks of Emily’s boots and Jane’s heels echoed in the station as they walked up to mine and Hotch’s side. Frank looked over and smiled at Jane, but she didn’t smile back. Hotch asked his question again as Frank stood up.

“Did you not think that I’d come looking for you?” Frank addressed Jane.

Jane hid slightly behind Emily. “You killed two innocent women, Frank, and you took that little girl. Why?”

“For you, my love. Without you, I am nothing. I had to do everything I could to get you back.”

“Tracey, Frank,” Emily said, irritated with how they were dancing around the information we needed.

“Not until we’re safely away.”

“Stop it, Frank. I’m not going with you,” Jane insisted, moving behind Emily a bit more.

“Jason, wait—” Hotch pleaded with Gideon as he came running onto the platform with his weapon raised at Frank.

Both of us tried to stand in his way, but he pushed past us and stepped closer to Frank. “Sarah was a doctor,” Gideon said behind gritted teeth. So that was his date’s name. “She ran a cancer treatment center. She dedicated her life to easing the pain of others. You took the lives of hundreds all because your mother was a whore.”

Frank’s grin immediately disappeared. “You don’t know anything about my mother.”

“Mary Louise Breitkopf. An immigrant from Germany, a single mother to a son named Frank, lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Tell me, did she do it all in the house or did she at least show you the courtesy of doing it elsewhere?”

“Shut up,” Frank hissed.

“You think that you’re special, don’t you, Frank? Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not. You’re nothing.”

Frank glanced over Gideon’s shoulder to look at Jane again. “Jane, this world isn’t meant for us. We don’t fit in here. We should go Come with me and we can be together forever.” Jane stepped around Emily slowly and started walking forwards. No one tried to stop her,  but we were keeping a close eye to make sure that neither of them would try anything. “I love you, Jane.” He held out his hand for her.

She took his hand, “I love you, too.”

He pulled her close for a kiss, and both Emily and I stepped forward to intervene, but Hotch put an arm out to the side to stop us. The approaching train blared its horn to signal its arrival, so none of us could hear what was said between them after they parted from their kiss. The next thing we knew, Frank kissed Jane’s knuckles and they made a run for the train tracks. We all tried to run after them to grab them, but they were just too far ahead of us. Before we could stop them, both Frank and Jane jumped in front of the train.

I threw my palm to my forehead as my jaw fell and I let out a gasp. This was Frank’s endgame. He knew that we weren’t going to let him get away again, and he wanted to make sure that he was with Jane for forever, just like he said. He didn’t really care about her, though. As a psychopath, he was incapable of loving her the way she assumed he did. He just wanted one more victim to go down with him. She was supposed to be his first and only, but he couldn’t stop himself from killing, even in the end.

Gideon’s phone rang as he reholstered his weapon. I looked over at Hotch and he looked just as shocked as me. No one cared if Frank died, though it would have been nice if we could have arrested him; but Jane was just an innocent, naive, lost, and broken woman. She didn’t deserve what Frank put her through. That seemed to be Hotch’s biggest regret— not getting to help her more.

“Reid and JJ have Tracey,” Gideon told us, still on the phone. “She’s safe.”

“And Mary Breitkopf?” I asked.

Gideon shook his head, “Reid estimates that she’s been dead over twenty years.”

Frank started killing people around twenty years ago… The death of his mother— if he hadn’t killed her himself— was his stressor. He did all of this for her. But it was over now. Frank and Jane were gone, and they had left a trail of blood behind them; but Tracey was safe. That was a win. We failed Rebecca, but we didn’t fail that little girl or her parents.

It was over. Finally.

“Hey, Greenaway,” Morgan said as he approached my desk. “Wanna go for a drive?”

I shook my head while still collecting all of my things for the night. “Hotch and I are going to pick up Jack from his aunt’s house.”

Morgan kicked my ankle playfully to grab my attention, so I gave in and looked up at him with a glare. “I want to show you something. It’s important.”

“But Hotch—”

“I already talked to him. Trust me, it won’t take that long.”

I looked up at Hotch’s office to see that he had just finished packing up his briefcase for the night. Morgan stepped in front of my gaze and smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and gave into his offer with a silent nod. His smile widened as I got out of my seat and walked towards the glass doors of the BAU.

Morgan drove us about thirty minutes out of town to a suburban neighborhood that was in the middle of development. We pulled up to one of the houses that was practically just a skeleton with half of a roof. As Morgan put the car in park, I asked myself what the hell we were doing there. How did Morgan know about this place and what was so important to show me all the way out there?

I followed Morgan’s lead as he got out of the car and walked up to the house he had brought me to. There was no door, so we just stepped in between two beams. We ended up standing in the middle of what looked like would eventually be a living room. After a minute of me spinning around to try to figure out the significance of this place, I gave up and asked Morgan where we were and why we were there.

“You know how I own a bunch of different properties?” he asked me and I nodded. “Well, this is one of them.” That was great and all, but why were we there? “What happened to us, it doesn’t define us, but there are a lot of kids still out there who don’t know that— and a lot of them end up in the system. If there had been a place where I could have sought out help, I would have taken it, but I didn’t have anyone. We save all different kinds of kids all the time, and sometimes they end up in a system that can’t give them the help or resources they need, and I feel like I have the ability to help them, so I bought this place and I’m going to turn it into a foster home for kids who have been removed from abusive families.”

“Morgan, that’s…” I was absolutely speechless.

It was amazing. No one ever looked out for kids like us when we needed it the most. We always felt so alone and misunderstood— like somehow it was all our fault. Morgan knew that feeling better than anyone, and he took the initiative to find a place that could help kids. If I would’ve had something like that after… Well… Again, speechless. 

“Do you still have them?” he asked, referring to the pictures while pulling out something from his pocket. I nodded. He flipped open a lighter, “They don’t exist, right?” I smiled lightly as he ignited the flame. “Let’s make it official.”

I reached into my suit jacket and pulled the pictures out of the inside pocket. I kept them face down because I didn’t want either of us to look at them again. I wanted that night to be remembered for the kindness and friendship Derek Morgan showed me, not because it was the last time I ever stared at those nightmarish photos. Morgan took the photos carefully from my grip and I watched as he held one of the corners over the flame. The photos took a moment to catch on fire, but once they did, Morgan lit another corner just to make sure it would keep going and not fizzle out half way through.

When the flame got too close and hot to his fingers, Morgan dropped them on the dirt ground. We stood shoulder to shoulder in silence for a minute until I finally found the courage to say what had been on my mind all day since we found them in Rebecca’s room.

“I’m going to tell him,” I whispered as we watched the photos burn. “I’m just scared.”

“Y/N.” I looked up at him. “Hotch loves you more than anything. He’ll listen and he’ll get it. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“I don’t want to lose him because he thinks differently of me.”

“I swear to you, if that happens, I’ll shoot him myself.”

I laughed, “Well, that’s a little hyperbolic.”

Morgan reached over with both of his arms and he enveloped me in a warm hug. “You’re going to be fine.”

I wrapped my arms around Morgan’s chest and hid my face in his shoulder, “Thank you, Morgan.”

“Anytime, sunshine.”

The small fire died out as the photos were turned to nothing but ashes. It was like they never existed, which was exactly what I wanted. No one would ever see those photos again. They weren’t even a memory, if I were being honest. It happened, I moved on, yet they were exhumed for the purpose of hurting me again, and I just needed to get over it again. Time was the best way to heal before, and it would be again… as long as I had Hotch and Jack with me every step of the way. Knowing that I wasn’t alone anymore, that someone like Morgan got it, it helped tremendously; but Morgan was right, Hotch deserved to know why I was hurting because if anyone could help ease my suffering, it was the man I loved most. I didn’t have to be alone. I didn’t have to drown in my sorrows all over again like I did after high school. I had people who loved me and wanted to help me. All I needed to do was ask.

So I asked Morgan to drive me home as fast as he could before I could change my mind about it all. I watched the moon move in the opposite direction of us as he drove me back. The stars sparkled and the wind blew in my face as I stuck my head out the window and rested it on the windowsill. It was good to appreciate the smallest things like how nice the night was when our work consisted of so many terrible things. It was easy to lose faith in humanity and life if one got too caught up in the work and ignored the good that came out of it all. For instance, without the BAU, I would have never met Hotch and Jack. Without the BAU, I wouldn’t have found the closure I needed from that night in high school.. Without the BAU, I would have never met Morgan, Emily, Reid, Garcia, or JJ. The people I held most dear wouldn’t know me without the job we had. I had so much to be grateful for, and it all came from the opportunity I was given. I had to remember that every time a case took a toll on me or anyone else.

I thanked Morgan for showing me the foster home he was building and for driving me home afterwards. He insisted that it was no problem and if I ever needed a ride again, he’d be more than happy to lend a hand. I hit his arm playfully and told him that he had to get in line behind Hotch and his gun if he were ever going to get a chance with me. Morgan laughed and threw his hands up in surrender before I thanked him again and got out of his car. I watched as he drove off into the night to head back to his own home. 

When the street was quiet, I headed into the house. The lights were off in the living room, kitchen, and dining room, but the hallway light up the stairs was on, meaning that both Hotch and Jack were upstairs. I circled back to the front door to set the alarm before heading upstairs. I dropped my bag off in the hallway just outside of Jack’s room and quietly knocked to see if he would respond. When there was no answer, I carefully opened the door to see if he was asleep or had headphones on while playing a game on his tablet. My heart melted as I saw Jack curled up under the blankets on his bed. He looked like he had been asleep for hours despite it still being fairly early in the night.

I snuck over and discreetly sat on his bed so as to not disturb him. I leaned down and kissed the top of his head, “Goodnight, little man.” I sat back up straight.

“He crashed as soon as we got home,” Hotch whispered from the doorway. “I think he had a longer day than we did.” I smirked while brushing Jack’s hair out of his face gently. “Are you okay?” he asked me. I shrugged and he tiptoed closer to me before taking a seat on the bed, too. “What’s wrong?” he snaked his arms around my waist and kissed my temple.

“I can’t get the sound of Tracey Belle’s mom crying out of my head. They were so worried about their daughter… I thought that Mrs. Belle was going to have a heart attack then and there on that sidewalk.” I sucked in a quiet but deep breath. “And all I could think about was how I’d die if anything happened to you or Jack. He doesn’t deserve the cruel touch this world can have.” I reached up to my face and wiped a tear that managed to escape before I could blink it away.

There was so much out there that Jack wasn’t prepared for, and he never would be. Hotch and I knew of every evil imaginable, it came with the territory of the job, but I never wanted Jack to have to face any of it. Worst of all, I didn’t want him to end up in a lonely situation like Tracey Belle went through… or the unthinkable, what I endured.

Hotch kissed my cheek, “We’re going to be okay.” He hummed against my ear as he rocked me back and forth slightly. “I promise that nothing will ever happen to us. I swear.”

I stood from Jack’s bed, took Hotch’s hand in mine, and began to lead him towards our bedroom. He followed without arguments or playfulness like he normally would. In our bedroom, Hotch sat down on the bed while I closed the door. For a moment, I continued to face the door, my back to Hotch, my mind racing with thoughts of how I was going to approach this.

When it came to Morgan, everyone found out before he could even say anything the way he wanted to, but now I had to come up with the right words to make sense of everything for Hotch. The worst part, though, was the anxiety of not knowing how he was going to react. There weren’t many people out there who could learn about something like what I went through and then go on like nothing happened. I didn’t want things to change. I liked how Hotch and I were. I liked how he loved me when he was trying to be romantic, how he got rough when he wanted to be dominant, how he knew exactly what I wanted without even having to ask. It was our thing, and it made me happy. But people had a tendency to treat survivors like they were fragile, and I wasn’t fragile. I was more than just what happened to me. I didn’t want Hotch to be scared to do things anymore because he knew about my past. I didn’t want him to stop loving me because he might think differently of me. But Morgan had a point… Hotch would eventually find out one way or another, so it was best if I just told him.

“Baby,” he whispered from the bed.

He never called me that. It wasn’t like we didn’t want to or anything, but we just… hadn’t… so when it took me by surprise, I felt my heart and stomach do simultaneous somersaults. I didn’t want to lose him. It was my worst nightmare to have the only man I had ever loved to look at me like he was mad or disappointed. I didn’t want that. But he seemed so worried about me, obviously, or else he wouldn’t have slipped up on the name. Or maybe it wasn’t a slip up at all and he just felt like it made sense to finally say it.

“What is it?” he asked me. I turned to face him. “Is this about me jumping in the dumpster? I said I’m sorry.”

I smirked and shook off a laugh. He wanted to cheer me up and brighten the mood, and it was working, but my nerves prevented me from acting normal, which only concerned him even more. So, while fidgeting with my fingers, I sat next to him on the edge of the bed while maintaining a safe distance from him. There was no doubt in my mind that Hotch was definitely profiling my behavior. I was quiet, distant, my eyes were looking anywhere but at him, and I was shaking like a chihuahua in the snow. Something was obviously wrong, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what other than the fact that what happened with Tracey Belle made me worry about Jack— but there was no reason for me to still be this worried about it when he had just calmed me down. So it was something else, he knew that much, and he was going to give me the time and space to say it however I saw fit.

“Do you remember how Randall Garner stole the jewelry box Elle gave me?” I asked quietly, still staring at the floor. I spotted Hotch nodding out the corner of my eye. “You remember I told you that there were supposed to be pictures inside—”

“I know, Y/N,” he interrupted before I could say more. I finally looked up at him with confusion plastered to my face. “Garcia found out about them, and you know how she is, she’s ridiculously protective of us all, and so she wanted to find the guy who blackmailed you, I guess. She didn’t find what the photos were, but… we connected the dots when we saw that he had at least ten other girls come forward against him, claiming that he did the same thing to all of them when he left for college.”

My eyes fell shut and I cringed. At least ten other girls. It should have ended with me, right, but that wasn’t how sociopaths like him worked. One victim just wasn’t enough to quench his thirst. Frank was the same way.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he took my hands.

“It was so long ago—”

“You don’t have to invalidate how you really feel about it.”

“I’m not.”

Hotch tilted his head to the side and gave me a look that said: “Seriously?” I shrugged. “Look at me,” he said before he gently grabbed my chin and made me stare at him. “What he did to you shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry that it did. But you didn’t have to be afraid to tell me and you don’t have to be scared to admit how you still feel about it. I need you to believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t your fault.”

He was right. I knew it. Both Morgan and Hotch had told me practically the same things, and yet it was still hard to believe them. At least this hasn’t gone as poorly as expected. I would definitely need to talk to Garcia about keeping her fast, little, hacker fingers off my past, but I was honestly glad that I didn’t have to say it. While I should have been mad at them for snooping around in business that didn’t concern them and should have been my right to tell them, it was a relief that I didn’t have to relive any of the memories by telling Hotch everything. It could just go unsaid and the healing process could begin with him by my side.  

I escaped from his touch before letting my face fall into the crook of his neck. “Please don’t treat me any differently,” I begged quietly.

“I’m not going to,” he answered quickly while petting my hair.

I grabbed onto his shirt and twisted the fabric in my hands. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [8]

Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 8.5 OR Chapter 9

➜ Words: 2.5k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

You don’t speak to Jimin anymore.   Ever since the meltdown, seldom do you see him despite being neighbors. He’s probably made an effort to avoid making you uncomfortable.   Sometimes you do see him, times when you’re throwing the garbage or coming home from work. And when you do, he always looks tired. Dark circles lined beneath his eyes, lips lopsided in exhaustion. It’s expected considering the show was coming up. Jimin has to be working hard.   But you still can’t help wondering what he’s actually doing, if he’s sleeping at all, if he’s eating well.   Maybe it’s the guilt speaking inside the recesses of your mind. The remorse has been eating at you alive after all.    It was a one-sided rivalry. One-sided resentment. He didn’t know.    Jimin really had no idea what he was doing to you.   You want to apologize for how the way things ended between you two — but you don’t know if you want to make amends. You don’t know if you can. If you deserve it after what you’ve said to him.   The both of you have truly become strangers. It’s like how it always should’ve been.   But the ticket he had given you weeks ago still sits on your kitchen counter, abandoned. It haunts you, and reminds you of the past — the many nights shared with Jimin, his sweet words and compassionate personality that never failed to cheer you on. How blameless he really is in all of this. How you’ve single-handedly turned him into a monster inside your head.   You can’t eat — your appetite left long ago with your conscience.   //   You wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.   It’s not from a nightmare, the one you usually have where you’re on stage and everyone’s staring while you’re unable to sing. The nightmare of your lips parting but no notes are able to stream out. Rather, it’s a dull pain in your upper abdomen that has shaken you from deep slumber.   In the midst of your drowsiness, you peel off your covers from your hot body and barely reach over to flicker on the lamp on your bedside table. You roll out and stumble across the floorboards to your bathroom.   You grip the door frame and move to sit on the toilet. After ten minutes, you nearly fall asleep again, but nothing releases from your bowels. You flush, get up, and move to the cabinet.   The fever medication is taken with a glass of water and you go back to bed.   //   “You’re late,” someone from the female ensemble says, not with malice for once. Her voice is ridden with slight concern. You wonder if your exterior is that bad to warrant sympathy from the people who couldn’t care less about you. “You’re already on thin ice with the director.”   True to her word, Director Kang is looking at you from the corner of his eye.   You nod, breathing out of your mouth. You were late because it took you some time to go up and down the stairs at the subway station. The dull pain hasn’t gone away.   “Try not to be late tomorrow. It might be the only excuse he needs to fire you.”   “Okay. Thanks.”   The coffee run takes you an hour long. You have to go up and down the stairs, balance all the cups of coffee while the world around you is spinning at a different axis. The pain of your stomach becomes increasingly sharper as time goes by as well. And you’re forced to stop a few times, unable to keep walking.   Everyone’s disgruntled when they receive their cold drinks, mumbling under their breaths, but you try your best regardless.   You have to stop when you’re sweeping too, gripping your waist when the pain shoots through your body. You push through in spite of how much it hurts, of how you’re feeling like you’re being stabbed.   When lunchtime rolls around, you can’t take a bite of your sandwich. Even the fresh deli meat can’t compel you to take a single bite. It’s excruciating, and you abandon the food to bumble towards the washroom with hopes of relinquishing the ache. But instead, you feel something stir in the pit of your stomach. You end up running to the nearest stall, vomiting into the toilet bowl. Bile comes up your esophagus, burning, and once your body has calmed down, you flush the toilet.   You come out to rinse your mouth, not realizing that Taeyeon was there the entire time. She’s touching up her makeup in the mirror, but spares you a quick glance. “Are you...alright?”   “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” You dab at your forehead with damp paper towels, wiping away your sweat.    You’re shivering, suddenly cold, so you hastily run your hands over hot water.    “Is it bad period cramps?” Taeyeon asks.   “I’m not on my period.”   “You’re not pregnant, are you?” She laughs but when you don’t answer, she immediately goes stiff. The pretty girl gasps in horror. “Oh my god. You aren’t, are you?”   “That’s not possible,” you tell her with a sigh.   The rest of the work day goes over painfully. Literally painfully.   You don’t know what it is. The ointment brought from home doesn’t work well. The fever medication doesn’t seem to be working either. It’s not food poisoning, you can’t do anything on the toilet and vomiting has no effect.   Yet when you push on your stomach, the pain worsens.   It’s a miracle when you manage to drag yourself home, wobbling up the stairs while hanging onto the railing and the other hand bracing yourself against the wall.   You use anything possible in your vicinity to steady yourself, but you give up halfway.   You are physically unable to continue.   It hurts, the pain dizzying.   Suddenly, someone’s shaking you.   “Y/N?”   You look up past your foggy vision, discovering a cute brunette with brown irises rounded like a puppy’s. The boy is gazing at you and tears gather at your lashes, stinging with an emotion of yearning overwhelming you.   “Jimin?”   “Are you okay?! You fainted!” The back of his hand presses against your forehead and then he withdraws. “You have a fever.”   “I...I’m fine.” You get up, but you stumble into him. Jimin catches you against his body. “It’ll pass, I can’t miss work.”   “Who cares about work?” he says almost angrily.   You can’t argue with him — you’re too exhausted, the pain of your stomach excruciating. You hear your name being called several times, but you grip onto your stomach, unable to respond.   And that’s when you feel yourself being lifted up. Onto Jimin’s back.    He’s piggybacking you, and in your dazed state, you realize he smells of shampoo and soap scented of fresh oranges. He’s also warm, body radiating heat, his backside firm. You didn’t know his shoulders were broader than they looked.   “Jimin…” you murmur his name.   “Excuse me!” Once outside, he calls out to a nearby woman in desperation, shouting at the top of his lungs. You can hear the way his voice warbles. “Can you please call a cab for us? She needs to go to the hospital!”   The taxi comes within three minutes and he thanks the woman who wishes you both luck. You feel Jimin put you in the backseat, holding onto you tightly.   You pull him closer, cold. The sheer agony concentrates on one side of your abdomen and it never stops. “J-Jimin…”   If this is how you die — it’ll be so pathetic. More pathetic than how the rest of your life has been. Your parents would be crying tears of disappointment, not sorrow.    But he disrupts your thoughts, arms wrapping around your shoulders. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay…”   When the pair of you have arrived at the hospital, Jimin coaxes you to hold onto him again and he hoists you onto his back with the help of the female taxi driver.   “Can someone help us, please?!”   Jimin’s voice sounds far away, but it’s desperate. You don’t know why he’s trying so hard for someone like you — someone who’s said such hurtful things to him.   Soon, you’re wheeled away, and when you peel back your eyes, the fluorescent lights passing by blind your eyes. You feel your body being rocked from the force of the stretcher being pushed, disoriented with the strangers surrounding you — but then you hear your name being called again by someone familiar.   By someone with a smooth timbre, one that you’ve heard sing many times over.   You find Jimin’s eyes and that frown again, the one that messes up his cute features, that makes the knot between his brows. You wish you could press your finger against the wrinkle and banish it away forever.   Your hand is squeezed. “I’m here.”   You nod, nerves calming, and no sooner are you brought in for an abdominal ultrasound, blood taken, urine tested. They give you painkillers that temporarily take the sharp pain away and you’re able to breathe again.   Through it all, Jimin sticks by your side, holding his coat and your own, standing back to listen to every word the doctor has to say.   “When did it start to hurt?”   “L-Last night.”   The doctor hums. “When was the last time you ate?”   “I...don’t remember.” You couldn’t eat lunch — you skipped breakfast. Now that you think about it, your throat was parched too. You couldn’t drink water either.    “Can you show me where it hurts?”   “Here.” Your fingers press against the swollen area.    The doctor notes, making some last notes before he puts down his clipboard. “Well, Ms. Y/N. Taking a look at your tests and the ultrasound, I think it’s safe to assume you have appendicitis.” What. “Your appendix ruptured. We’re going to have surgery as soon as possible to get it removed.”   You nearly sit all the way up, forgetting about your condition. “R-Right now?”   “In five minutes.” The doctor smiles in an attempt to put you at ease. “Don’t worry. It’s a really simple surgery and the success rate is really high. We’re just going to make a small incision about four inches here and we’ll get that sucker out of you. There’s a chance of infection afterwards, but we’ll give you antibiotics and you should be fine. There’s no cause for concern really once we get it out of there.”   He briefly goes over what the recovery will look like, how long it’ll take, how fast you’ll be out of here. But that doesn’t do much to lessen your anxiousness.   “Thank you, doctor.” Jimin nods and the doctor leaves with the nurse, the latter who will come back soon to prep you for surgery. But you’re not ready. Far from it.   “I-I can’t miss work, Jimin.” Your arm reaches out and he grabs your hand immediately, giving a firm squeeze. “He’s going to fire me.”   “I’ll talk to the director.” His voice is stern, expression solemn. You’ve never seen Jimin like this before. “You can’t go into work like this.”   You want to cry. It’s so sudden. One second you’re on your way home and the next you’re in a hospital, laying in a bed to be brought into the surgical room. “I’m already on thin ice with him.”    “He’ll understand. Or I’ll make him,” Jimin whispers calmly, almost upset at how you’re still so worried about work in these last moments. “You can’t just get up and go to work, okay? You have to do this surgery.”   “But...I can’t afford it.”   “I’ll help you.” His hand gently squeezes yours once more, comforting you. “It’ll be alright.”   “I’m scared,” you admit after a moment.   “It’s okay.” Jimin leans in close, searching your expression. When your eyes lock with his, you nod. Somehow, you believe him. If he told you that the ocean was pink, you’d believe him. “You’ll be okay. Promise. I’ll be right here with you. You don’t have to worry.”   No one is here but him. Out of everyone you know in your lifetime, only Jimin is present. And true to his word, he stays right by you, until the last moment where you’re brought into the surgical room.    “Your boyfriend really cherishes you, huh?” the older nurse asks as she’s fiddling with your IV, sighing wistfully with a softened smile. “How long have you been together?”   In a split-second, you decide to spare her from the awkwardness, not wanting to put her in an uncomfortable position and have to apologize. “Oh...um….three months?” Your voice is muffled behind the oxygen mask.   The anesthesiologist smiles as well. “Young love is always sweet. Alright, Y/N, just breathe in deeply, okay?”   You listen, inhaling deep breaths. Your lids become heavier and heavier as if you were drifting off to sleep.   The last thing you think of is Jimin. How nice he smelled, how warm he felt, and the way he held your hand.

When you come to, it’s dark outside.   You can barely remember anything. It was surreal as if you were still trapped in a dream-like state and now all the memories you have are mashed together. You vaguely recall being woken up by the anesthesiologist, how the doctor said something about antibiotics.   But now after a long sleep, you feel more conscious.   Your eyes flutter and your heart monitor beeps every time your heart pumps. The IV is still in your arm, but you feel something else on your other hand.   The tips of your fingers presses against soft skin that isn’t your own.   You loll your head over to look.   It’s Jimin. He’s in the same clothes as he was hours ago and he’s fallen asleep in his chair. His head is dipped down, neck nearly snapping and will probably ache when he wakes up. Though for now, he’s in a deep slumber, chest rising and falling at a constant rhythm. His hair shags down his forehead, eyes shut tight. His lips are plump and pouted, cheeks rounded. And his hand is limp in yours, having held it as he drifted off.   You wonder if he’s trying to pay back the favour. Maybe he’s trying to make it up to you. You did teach him after all, helped him get into Broadway even when it was against your will. Maybe this to make you both even. Or perhaps he simply felt obligated to help you….it’s not like you can ignore a person who’s fainted in a stairwell….   But you don’t understand why he’s still here.    Why he’s stayed by you even when you’re okay now, at this time of night, and when the surgery is over. He has gone beyond the duty of a neighbour, beyond paying back debt. Jimin’s still beside you after all these hours, holding your hand. Even after all the mean things that you’ve said to him. After you told him you hated him. How does he not hate you?   “I’m sorry.”   A tear escaped down the side of your face, dripping onto the pillow.

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #16 - Lucubration (slightly NSFW)

AO3 Link HERE

spoilers for end of 5.0, some light references to body horror.

========================

"Nero?"

The query was so soft that he might not have heard it had he not noticed that the strong and steady rhythm of her hips had stilled in their dance. Mind half-locked in a haze of lust, the twinge of initial impatience he had felt faded when he saw the look in her eye.

Nero let his grasp upon her thighs go slack and reluctantly allowed his senses to return to the present. The ceruleum lamp on the sideboard had not guttered out; its low light at her back haloed the wild tangle of her hair and the slopes and curves of her from head to hips like a cartographer's draft. Her skin was aglow with sweat from their lovemaking.

But she looked troubled, and that faraway expression - her heart wasn't in it. Not really.

Breaths still shuddered from his lungs with the hammering of his heart, and his question was less asked than panted.

"Something on your mind?"

Shoulders heaving from her exertion, Aurelia had managed to lift her head- wearily, as though the act had sapped her strength- to utter his name. But now, with his attention focused upon her rather than the act, she looked hesitant.

"I just..."

The movement of the musculature in her throat was only just visible, flexing as she swallowed. He lay still, his heart resuming its normal cadence moment by moment.

"Go on," he coaxed.

"I... no. Maybe later."

"Not later, now."

"No. This isn't the time," she rasped. "For either of us."

Nero, always one with a penchant for close observation, would not be deterred; her worry nagged at him in the same way a perceived flaw in a blueprint would have done if he had left it alone. His blunted nails scraped a light and carefully repetitive path against her flank, from hip to knee.

"I should rather talk about it now. You have been avoiding anything that transpired while you were in... what was it, the First Reflection?"

"Norvrandt. Yes."

"Norvrandt, then. If you feel the need to discuss it, then let's talk."

Aurelia stared down at her hands where they rested upon his stomach, gaze following the neat path of the incision scar she'd made just beneath his ribs. A legacy of Omega.

"...Now I just feel as though I've ruined the mood."

"You've ruined nothing," he said, even though the dull ache of unrelieved desire still nagged at him. He offered her a faint grin. "Not as though you and I've never managed to find ample time for a good swive when the mood strikes, hm? So. Talk to me."

"No, I... really, it can wait." She tried to smile but the laugh that fell from her lips was thin and weak, and he saw them quiver. "We're rather in the middle of something, and I'm not going to be the one to ruin- damn it, Nero! Wait-"

He'd already unseated her, lifting her from her seat on his hips to place her slender frame on the bed alongside him- he still throbbed with want but he could force himself to ignore it for the time being. This was more important, he told himself. One rough palm cupped her cheek, then lifted a sheaf of wet hair from her neck and shoulders with a deft and careful gesture.

She blinked furiously, her gaze shifting away, and he saw her eyes were wet.

"Let's... let's just finish what we were doing," Aurelia said, her voice trembling and uneven. "Really, it's fine."

"It's not fine, whatever it is. You're obviously distressed."

"Nero-"

"What is it you always tell me? You'll feel better once you've let it out."

She took a deep breath, one that told him whatever it was that troubled her, it was not trivial.

"I don't understand how you can look at me and bear the sight of me, much less go on like nothing happened," her voice cracked. "I don't understand it at all. You've done all this work to make a space for yourself and I come back, broken and halfway to failure, expecting you to simply accept the state of things as they are and not ask any questions because I'm a coward and I can't-"

"You are neither broken nor a failure," Nero interrupted her outpouring of words with a vehemence that surprised even himself. "And you aren't a coward either."

"I am."

"You can't possibly believe such things about yourself, not after all you've done."

"But I did fail! I went to get the others back and I couldn't do it! That was the entire point of going. And just- just look at what the Light did to me. My hair, my face- my eye-"

"You're missing the point. It could have killed you. You're alive."

"No, you're missing the point. I don't know how long it'll take to recede. If it ever does. If I'm not just stuck this way indefinitely."

Silence reigned, yawning between them like a chasm bridged only by the sound of sniffling. He propped his elbow against one of the pillows and reached for her with his other hand. His thumb brushed the corner of her good eye and came away wet.

"Aurelia," he said, taking pains to keep his voice a soft and even murmur, the suggestion of waves lapping against a rocking boat. She'd reached for the coverlet and had dragged it over her thin frame, clutching handfuls to her chest. "Look at me."

She did, reluctantly, one eye focused and the other vague and unseeing. He took one of her hands, prying the coverlet from her fingers and folding it in his own grasp.

"Do you remember what happened to me at the top of Syrcus Tower, three years ago?"

"I- yes, of course. The Exa- ...Raha and I had to come in after you. Of course I remember."

"And do you recall the state I was in when you found me?"

"Nero, that's not the same."

"Not the same," he repeated. "I thought you might say that. How is it not the same?"

The corners of Aurelia's lips twitched helplessly.

"It's- you weren't-"

"It was exactly the same. The only difference was in the aspect. I came very, very close to becoming a voidsent. Closer than I think any of you realized." He grazed his lips over her knuckles. "You said yourself that I could expect any lingering effects to diminish over time. Why would you think it would be any different for you?"

"I took in so much more aether than you did, Nero. My flesh isn't any different from yours or anyone else's, Blessing or not." She sighed. "I don't know if... I mean, it's very much within the realm of possibility that I will never regain my sight in that eye."

"And if you don't, what of it?"

"But... the way I look. You aren't-"

"Sweetling, correct me if I've assumed wrongly, but you seem far more concerned about your appearance than your loss of vision. Are you worried that I find myself revolted by it?"

Something like embarrassment crept into her eyes. Nero knew better than to laugh, as much as he wished to do so.

"Who wouldn't be," she muttered. "I still look half transfigured-"

He reached for the coverlet and tugged it from her remaining hand, prised her wrist away to give him access to her bared chest, and traced a fingertip along the scar that ran from the base of her sternum to the curve of her collarbone. It was a delicate touch, as though he had taken one of his precision tools to the aetheric circuit boards in his tomestone hoard.

"I have seen this scar countless times now. Every time I do, I remember that night we were able to repair matters between us."

"But it doesn't-"

"Hush."

He ran his fingers through the left side of her fringe and brushed her forelock aside to look upon the marks of the Light that lingered still. With one knuckle he followed the arch of her eyebrow, with its hairs bleached white, and studied the skin that was still pallid and immobile, stiffened with the marbled and inhuman perfection of primordial stasis.

Her left eye, its lens clouded and crystalline, made minute tracking movements side to side- it was reacting to the lamplight, not to him, but the tears that fell from it were no different than those from the right. He brushed them away just as he had done moments ago.

"I don't find you revolting," he said. "I find you beautiful."

Slowly she shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Every moment since I first saw you, I have studied everything about you. Your demeanor, your mannerisms, your intellect, your talents. If the mark of the Light is to become a permanent part of you," she stilled when his thumb brushed the curve of her third eye, "then I would simply add it to my memories and my knowledge of the most remarkable woman I have ever chanced to know, and count myself blessed as I ever have."

"That is very easy to say, but-"

"I do not feel any obligation to be with you, nor do I remain 'in spite' of anything, contrary to what you might believe about yourself. There is nothing about you that I will now or ever find pitiable or repulsive." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "Nothing."

Her expression crumpled as though he'd punched her in the gut.

When he reached for her again her arms wrapped about his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder. Nero sat upright and rested his hands on her back, and aside from the idle stroking of his fingertips along her spine he let her exhaust her emotions, bemused as ever by this fount of patience he'd discovered within himself. He had not possessed even a fraction of it when he was younger.

How different his life might have been, he thought.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You don't need-"

"Aurelia Laskaris, if you attempt to imply that your distress is a burden to me one more time," he poked the wet tip of her nose where one of her tears had run, "I am getting out of this bed, and I am turning on that broken centrifuge in the workshop. Whereupon I shall force you to listen to the bloody awful grinding noise those broken bearings keep making until you've driven to distraction or you stop berating yourself. Whichever comes first."

Normally she would have had some sort of rejoinder in her, something to counter his jape- but at this moment she only made a shaky little exhalation, waiting as the tightness in her throat began to ease.

"I really should repair that," she said. "I promised I'd do it when I returned-"

"Tomorrow. Tonight, you are staying right here. No work and no self-pity allowed."

One of her arms abandoned its place about his neck to try and wipe at her face before she braced her palm against his chest. "So," she ventured after a few moments, "what was that about 'studying everything about me'? That's not even possible. Unless you've fallen back into your bad old habits, Tribunus."

Nero cleared his throat.

"...Well," he said, "I might have exaggerated. For dramatic effect, you know. Only a touch, though."

"What do you mean, a touch?"

"What? Half the fun's in the discovery of- ow." He winced, rubbing his rear end as she retracted her hand. "Give a man an opportunity for his safe word before you start breaking out the rough treatment, won't you?"

"A swat to the cheek for your cheek."

Nero shrugged.

"I made you smile, didn't I?"

He was grinning at her the way he always did, that overly wide boyish smile when he meant to charm her, his teeth a brief shimmering flash in the darkness. Aurelia leaned into him to rest her cheek against his chest, next to her palm, until she could hear the strong and steady sound of his beating heart in her ear, then let herself have a small and tremulous laugh.

"You always do," she said, wiping away the last of her drying tears. "You always do."

[archadianskies]

Whumptober Day 21

Infection → part 1; part 2

Whumptober Masterlist | 21/31 of RK900 short stories

↳ on Ao3

Tags: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings × Team as Family × Good Parent Hank Anderson × Infection × Toothache

For all his quick reflexes and heightened senses, there’s still no accounting for human error. The pen hastily slapped onto the table begins to roll towards the end of it, so Freddie darts over to catch it just as Isaac crouches to lift up the heavy crate of equipment. Crate meets jaw. Audible crack upon impact. Damage to top and bottom left second and third molars. 

“Oh shit Arlo!” Isaac cries, the shift in attention causing him to drop the crate in order to reach out in concern. Freddie grabs the crate before it hits the floor with a crash, straightening slowly to place it on the workbench. 

“I am alright.” He reassures the panicked human, who gives him a look of disbelief.

“Buddy I heard that sound.”

“Impact damage to my left molars.” He concedes, cupping his jaw. “But nothing more than fractures. My self-repair program should take care of it within an hour.”

Isaac looks at him warily and the concern is warranted; he’s only just beginning to associate physical pain with negativity after having spent the past eight months prior to his rescue being treated as a piece of equipment by Special Agent Perkins. 

“And if it doesn’t, I’m taking you to First Aid, got it?” Isaac huffs, fixing him with a stern glare. He nods obediently.

“Got it.”

*

It heals within an hour. Mostly. There is one fracture, the deepest one, on his bottom left second molar yet to seal completely but it’s making progress. He says as much, reporting to Isaac who concedes with a sigh that alright, yes, that sounds fine and no he won’t drag him to the First Aid room. 

Dr Olive calls him to the morgue because there’s a new cadaver brought in from the Red Ice lab case and Freddie knows there will be quite a lot of chemicals to process. Connor had already warned him with a quick message stating there had been several shots exchanged and a lot of the lab had been damaged, sending chemicals spilling onto the floor and contaminating the newly deceased. No matter. He is an RK900 and his toxicology abilities are far superior than any android created before him, even Connor. 

Dr Olive waits for him to put on his full length vinyl apron and gloves, and he forgoes the surgical mask given he has no saliva to spit, and must have quick access to his mouth. She begins the Y incision and he touches the smudge of dried liquid on the victim’s forehead. 

Cause of death is extremely clear, but what isn’t clear are the concoction of chemicals spilled on site. It didn’t seem to match those usually found at Red Ice labs, so the lab seemed to be cooking up something else on the side, coupled with the fact all the deceased have needle marks on the inside of their elbows which is at odds with the usual method of Red Ice inhalation. Freddie swipes what residue he can on the tip of his tongue.

*

>sample insufficient 

 *

“Anything?”

“Insufficient. The liquid has dried and the residue left behind is not enough to provide clear chemical analysis.” Freddie frowns. “We will need to see if there’s more on other parts of the body.”

“Or more on other bodies.” She quips. “Not the only one we’ve got to do today. Your dad’s sending in at least three others.”

“The track marks are inconsistent with the consumption of Red Ice.” Freddie points out, turning the victim’s arm to reveal the crook of their elbow. “It is possible they were working on something else, a new drug that uses Thirium 310.” 

“How much blood do you need?”

“Not much.” Freddie dips his index and middle finger into the body, smearing what blood he can onto his tongue. 

“We’ll still need to spin it up to make it official.” She reminds him, and he frowns as his HUD fills with new information. “What have you found?”

“Nothing good. Nothing I can confirm until I’ve checked the others.”

*

In the end, when they forward the findings to the DPD after analysing four bodies and multiple tubes of various chemicals sampled from the site, Freddie knows the arrests made today, the destruction of the lab, has been done in the nick of time; they were in the midst of creating a new drug, a stronger one with highly addictive properties. 

“Good job, Frederick.” She commends with a smile as they bin their gloves. “Lab will process everything for the secondary round of tests to make it official, but from what you say, DPD nipped this one in the bud.”

He attempts to smile in reply, wincing as a sharp burst of pain resonates from his bottom left jaw.

“What happened?” She demands, hand immediately on his shoulder.

“Oh um, it’s alright I- I um, knocked my jaw on some equipment.” He stammers, fidgeting under her intense, matronly gaze. “Very minor fractures on some of my molars but they’ve mostly healed. This last one just needs a bit more time I think.”

“Well we’re all done here, so I’m sending you home to get that checked out.” She declares and any thought of protesting shrivels up when he sees her stern expression.

“Yes, doctor.” 

“Good. Now out of your uniform and call a cab to Jericho.”

**

He doesn’t go to Jericho. It cannot be that bad, surely, and so he takes a cab home instead. His molar just needs time to heal and now he has no more lab work, his system can focus on self-repairing the tooth. Unlocking the door, he crouches immediately and welcomes the Saint Bernard as Sumo lumbers over enthusiastically and mushes his face into Freddie’s middle. 

After making sure he had fresh water and had been let out to pee, Freddie set about searching the fridge for a bottle of cherry cola Tearium. Where Connor prefers hot Teariums, and Caleb the alcoholic ones, Freddie much prefers the chilled, carbonated ones. Hank always buys a pack during the fortnightly grocery run, and keeps a couple in the fridge ready for consumption.

Settling on the couch with Sumo, Freddie blinks the television on and resumes the documentary on space exploration he’d started the other night. The cherry cola is sweet, and the carbonated liquid fizzes on his tongue. A moment later, his entire left jaw and cheek explodes with pain and he nearly drops the bottle, clumsily pawing to set it down on the coffee table before cupping the side of his face. Sumo whines in concern and he squeezes his eyes shut as the pain rolls in waves, a strong throbbing, piercing ache drilling right into his jaw.

The door clicks open and even through the pain, Freddie knows his dad and brother won’t be home for at least another hour. He looks up just in time to meet the surprised gaze of his twin, Caleb, who immediately sets down the small bag in his hands onto the console table in favour of closing the distance between them.

“Freddie you ok?” His brother rushes to his side, and Freddie shakes his head rapidly. “Show me?” Caleb offers his hand, retracting the skin. It takes a considerable amount of effort for Freddie to do the same, having to fight through and sweep aside the pain in order to execute such a basic command. He grasps his brother’s hand and shows him his recent memories and spills over the question of ‘what are you doing here’ through the link because he doesn’t think he can manage speech quite yet.

“Oh, I thought I’d drop by and surprise you all with some drinks. Our mission wrapped up quicker than we thought and David’s got some boring admin meeting.” His twin shrugs, still distracted by his pain. “I think your tooth is infected? All the chemicals you processed today probably hindered your self disinfecting cycle and prevented a proper repair.”

He whines in frustration and Caleb laughs, looping his other arm around him and drawing him close into a hug. 

“We should probably get you to Jericho.” A pause. “Or, I mean. Maybe I could take the tooth out? Dad’s got a toolbox in the garage. I’ll sanitise the pliers. Your whole jaw will need to be detached temporarily so I can inspect it for infection and then we can ask Fabrications to print you another tooth.”

He doesn’t want to go to Jericho, and it must be plain on his face too because Caleb nods with a determined sigh. “Alright. Pliers it is.”

**

Long day. Long shitty day, but apparently some good came out of it: they stopped the production of some new drug being released onto the streets. Hank yawns, stretching languidly and standing aside so Connor can unlock the door. He’s not sure if Freddie is home yet- the boy keeps odd hours depending on what lab work is needed. So he expects one android, and won’t be disappointed if there isn’t one but instead he walks in and there are two androids.

“Caleb?” The other RK900 is holding a pair of pliers in one hand which he quickly and quite comically hides behind his back.

“Uhh hi dad.”

“...Do I want to know?” His eyes flick over to Freddie who is, for lack of a better word, sulking with the couch throw wrapped tightly around his shoulders and Sumo sprawled on his lap. He’s cupping his cheek, rubbing it as if he has a toothache. Can androids even have toothaches? 

“...Do you think the tooth fairy will come, even for android teeth?” Caleb asks sheepishly, slowly bringing the pliers from behind his back to show Hank the single tooth in its grasp. “Freddie had an accident at work today.”

“That’s nearly split in half.” Connor frowns, reaching for the tooth and plucking it free from the pliers so he can inspect it. “But given its position in your jaw, how come your self-repair capabilities did not seal it together?”

“Because he was working your case.” Caleb reminds him. “Mouth full of chemicals.”

“And a cherry cola.” Hank nods in the direction of the bottle on the coffee table. “That oughta do it.” Freddie whines, rubbing his cheek again and Hank chuckles, tousling his hair fondly. “What’s the android equivalent of ibuprofen?”

“Nothing.” Connor shakes his head. “We could disable your sensors for a little while though, Freddie, until the infection site heals up?”

The younger RK900 hesitates for a moment, eyes darting to Hank’s as though seeking reassurance. “Go for it, kid. Don’t want you to suffer through the night.” With his blessing, Caleb touches Freddie’s LED and after a moment, the twin’s face relaxes, no longer pinched up in pain. Hank sighs, the tension unwinding from his shoulders. Surely now he can have a perfectly ordinary, lazy evening with the boys?

**

He has his own room, but most nights he spends in Connor’s instead. Last night had been no different, and something about the dull ache in his jaw and having a part of him missing exacerbated his fear of being locked away alone in the dark again. It felt a little too much like being locked in the armoury, left to repair himself and clean the gear and guns of the FBI SWAT team. 

He feels safest when he’s with a family member, and most nights it’s Connor. His brother tells him each time it happens that he doesn’t mind at all, and Freddie knows this to be true and revels in it. Connor makes him feel safe and wanted and cared for. Connor would never lock him up in the dark and expect him to clean anything. 

They rise at the same time, Connor pausing to lean over and bump his nose against his fondly before they start getting ready for the day. Freddie heads back to his room and notes the pillow has been disturbed despite him not using his room last night. Curiously, he rounds the side of the bed and lifts up the pillow to reveal a dollar coin. Picking it up, he turns it over in his hand and smiles brightly, taking a photo to send to Caleb. His twin replies a second later.

[Tooth fairy doesn’t discriminate!]

[bluesfortheredj]

A Beautiful Mistake Chapter 18.

The two of you walk through the gates with beaming faces, your arm linked through his as you rest your cheek on his shoulder, but your joy soon turns to concern as you see the crowds that had gathered in the middle of the settlement, and the pained cries that call out after the sound of leather against skin make you wince each time you hear them. Samuel’s free hand comes up and holds your face against his arm to prevent you from seeing anything, but Redwick is quick to spot the two of you and halt you in your tracks.

“You’re missing it! Come with me, I’ll take you to the front of the crowd!” he declares, grabbing Samuel’s arm and dragging you both through the throng of people.

“I thought this would start tomorrow,” Samuel states to a joyous Marshal.

“There’s no time like the present dear Samuel! Don’t you want to see the man behind your dear wife’s attack punished? And Mistress Castell, do you not want to see him get what he deserves for launching such an atrocious man upon you? What if it had gone awry and he had not intervened in time? You could be dead.”

You look up at Samuel, unable to turn to face the source of the anguished groans coming from only a short distance away, but Redwick walks around to you and forcefully turns your head to meet James’ pleading gaze which is directed straight at you; the Marshal’s large fingers hurting your jaw as he holds you in place.

“Let her go!” Samuel snaps, then quickly pulls you away from everyone and through the crowd back to your house where Mercy waits on the step with tears in her eyes.

“Oh Mercy,” you sigh, “come inside, don’t listen to what’s happening dear girl.”

You skip ahead of Samuel to take her in your arms and lead her back into the dwelling so she can no longer hear the grunts and whips that alternate outside, then sit her down on a chair and make her some tea to ease her fragile mind.

“I’ll do that Mistress Castell, I don’t want to be a bother, you need to rest, I-”

“Mercy, it’s tea,” you smile, “I can manage to make tea.”

Samuel stands with his back against the door as he looks on at you bustling around to make sure Mercy is okay, and his face falls at the spectacle that was happening outside your four walls. Just as you’d received the good news that you wouldn’t be the first couple in Jamestown to give birth, you’re faced with the utterly horrid sight of James facing his punishment earlier than agreed, and Redwick just had to rub your faces in it for his own enjoyment.

“Samuel, you look worried my love,” you frown after handing Mercy her drink.

You place your hands upon his cheeks to focus his distant stare on your eyes and he gives you a half hearted smile as he lifts his arms and takes a hold of yours gently.

“Are you not worried?” he questions quietly.

“Of course I am. James is out there being beaten because of me. How could I not worry? I’m the one who put him in this position, I deserve to be punished for it.”

“No you don’t,” he says, shaking his head from side to side.

“Maybe I do though…” you gasp, realising that maybe if you stood by as witness to what was happening to James, no matter how much it pained you to watch, then maybe you’d be forgiven, “Samuel, I have to see him. If I do this then we could be free from hurt, and our sins would be forgiven.”

“Are you feeling quite well my love?” he asks with concern furrowing his brow.

“I feel as if I need to do this Samuel, do you trust me?”

“Implicitly sweetheart.”

“Then I must go and see him until his punishment is over,” you nod, mostly to yourself.

“(Y/N), I-” Samuel starts, but you’ve already moved past him and slipped out of the gap in the front door before he can get another word out.

You slowly push your way to the front of the crowd, your eyes turned down to the ground as you try and prepare yourself for what you were about to witness, and then when you no longer see feet in front of you, you manage to lift your gaze towards the origin of those awful noises you were hearing. There stood James with his eyes trained on you straight away, his body convulsing each time he’s hit with the whip, and you watch as he tries to mouth something to you.

“Come to see the bad man get what he deserves?” Jocelyn asks smugly from beside you.

“I’ve come to face my own punishment,” you reply softly.

“Your punishment for what?”

“Acting upon unlawful feelings for another man.”

“Ha!” she laughs, “power is what I want, not a man. Samuel was nothing more to me than a step up in the ranks, but he didn’t even have the balls for that so I simply couldn’t live like that anyway.”

“So why the assault in the woods? Why get me to feed you information?”

“I thought it would be a fun little game. I mean, you were in the wrong, but you didn’t have to know that I didn’t care just yet...”

You briefly turn your head to see her haughty expression as she takes in the sight of James being punished with a smile, and you frown as you turn back to the poor man.

“And this was my idea anyway,” she sighs, “such a shame he got found out.”

“What?”

“I told him that to try and steal your affections back he must make a bold statement, save your life or something to make you fall into his arms. It was almost too easy to convince him, he was so desperate for you I actually almost felt sorry for him.”

“You really are something else, aren’t you?” you scoff, “so who’s your target now then?”

“Dear Christopher seems sweet on me, and as a Doctor he would know more than most when it came to the men who control this settlement. I could use that to my advantage.”

Your eyes convey your worry that he would let slip information about you, but Jocelyn simply waves her hand dismissively and laughs.

“Don’t worry, you and Samuel have done your jobs for me, I only have interest in them now,” she says, nodding towards where Redwick, the Governor, and Farlow, “they hold the key to power.”

“Were you hoping this would happen to James then? To gain the trust of Redwick?”

“Oh, she’s clever, too!” Jocelyn gasps, “of course. I tell James what to do, James gets found out, and the dear Marshal over there gets what he wants… Thanks to me.”

“Congratulations,” you mutter.

“So I wouldn’t worry about punishing yourself by watching James all day, as you have nothing to be punished for. Just look at me, I seem to be doing fine!” she laughs before walking away into the crowd again.

The sound of the whipping suddenly stops as the man carrying out the punishment pauses to change hands and take a sip of water, and you hear James ask if he may have a drop himself but all he receives is a laugh as the man puts a cup just out of reach. You’re quick to run forwards and pick it up so you can tip some moisture into his mouth as you wipe some of the dirt from his sweat covered face with your handkerchief.

“Why did you come back?” he whispers.

“I… don’t know,” you lie, shaking your head and feeling thoroughly stupid.

“Your sweet face is the only thing getting me through this (Y/N), but please leave, go back to Samuel, you must not be witness to such- ah! Go!” he cries as the whipping resumes.

You jump back from him in shock as the punishment suddenly continues and you stand with the crowd, your eyes wandering over to where Jocelyn now stood talking to Marshal Redwick, obviously telling him of her scheming in hopes of forming some sort of alliance so she can further climb the ladder of Jamestown. It all goes awfully though as Redwick laughs in her face while he tells her to leave him alone, and she purses her lips before storming off in a huff, which you can’t help but smile at. A dull ache in your abdomen reminds you that you were already facing some sort of wrath from the powers above, and as your mind wanders to what would happen if you were to die while you back away from the sight of James, you’re suddenly stopped by the Governor’s wife who appears beside you with a breathless pant.

“Mistress Castell,” she breathes rather urgently, “have you heard of Alice Sharrow’s news?!”

“I have!” you beam, “it’s wonderful isn’t it?”

“It’s a miracle,” she sighs happily, “the first child of Jamestown! Oh, how the people will love them.”

“It will certainly bring joy to the settlement.”

“And it shouldn’t be too long until you have your own news to share,” she smiles, “family is so very important, and we need to lay our roots down.”

“I’d be honoured to carry Samuel’s child,” you nod, “and to have a family of our own would bring me so much happiness.”

“You look a little pale Mistress Castell, do make sure you’re keeping well especially if you are planning to have a baby. Maybe see Doctor Priestley to make sure everything is okay? How about I come with you?” she suggests, trying to take over your whole body it seems.

“I will make sure I go with Samuel,” you smile as politely as you can muster, “thank you for your concern.”

“Good… good! Have a good day.”

“And you!”

You walk back to the house and enter the door with a faint smile playing on your lips as you think about the Governor’s wife and how controlling she was, then you notice Samuel and Christopher sitting in a now solemn silence at the table with their heads turned and focused on you.

“Are you okay my love?” you gasp, rushing towards Samuel and taking his head in your hands as you examine his face carefully.

“I am fine,” he sighs, placing his hands over yours and bringing one of them to his mouth so he can kiss your palm, “we’re just… we…” tears prick his eyes as he struggles to finish his sentence, and Christopher takes over.

“We were discussing any procedure that might have to happen if your situation were to worsen and I’d have to intervene.”

“What would it entail?” you ask quietly.

“I would have to make an incision-”

“This is not for her ears, Christopher,” Samuel hisses.

“No, I need to hear what will happen,” you say as you move away from Samuel and lean against the wall.

“I would make an incision in your abdomen to reach through to your kidney where I would then need to make a hole big enough to fit my equipment in and remove each stone one by one before sewing you up again. You will pass out from the pain of it eventually, and there is a high risk of infection afterwards. I have not done this sort of procedure before… and if you were to still be with child then I fear the baby would not survive due to the trauma inflicted upon your body,” he explains calmly.

Your legs begin to shake beneath your weight and before you know what’s happening you’ve slid down the wall and landed on the floor as the colour drains from your face.

“(Y/N)!” Samuel gasps, dropping to his knees to help you.

“I’m fine,” you whisper unconvincingly, “I’m fine.”

@lv7867 @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @timeandpixiedust  @antonomase @queen-bunnyears @leah-halliwell92 @queen-paladin

[lady-plantagenet]

Chapter 3 of a Bygone Era -

A Fictionalised Account of Isabel Neville’s life from the point of view of her and those close to her.

Points of view written so far include Anne Beauchamp, Anne Neville and George Duke of Clarence.

26 June 1465 - George Plantagenet, Duke of Clarence

The ride beyond the Yorkshire Dales was more than any reasonable man could endure and George’s spirit waned with each passing of the moon. Now arrived, he was glad to be relieved of his riding habit. The summer sun looked upon him, setting his glossy green silk aglow, elevating the golden weaved threads to a glimmer and his persona to a countenance so divine, Paris himself would have payed homage had they encountered.

Now, his cousin of Warwick requested his presence for a private audience before the dinner and George despite his wishes could not feign ignorance to himself. After all the noble blood of the land has been mingled with the Rivers, he intends to woo me himself, for Isabel. He set his cup of Rumney wine on the painted table of his chamber wondering what possessed Warwick to have his wines brought from Wallachia of all places. Mayhaps he has even befriended the Impaler himself. There is not a road in christendom left unexplored by the shadows of his ambitions.

Realising it was nigh time he appeared for the audience, he made his way past the stony winding stairs of what was unofficially called the Guy de Warwick tower and across the gleaming inner court, beset with a sea of jade shards bobbing to the wind in a biddable manner, until he reached the threshold of The Maiden tower. A wry chuckle escaped George. The choice of meeting amused him nearly as much as his lodging arrangements. The thematic allusions to the ancient Neville tale of Guy of Warwick and The elusive and noble Lady Felice did not elude him. While awaiting his receipt, he wondered whether ballads still held court in Isabel’s heart.

A servant he did not recognise before beckoned him into a suffocating chamber of cream and steel where George to his surprise was faced with the Countess of Warwick sitting beside her husband, as if they were a king and queen holding court. So this is how royalty ought to look. George thought back to his brother’s court and how the new queen’s striking beauty and liveliness did not sit well with the austere and mystical nature expected of one who claimed the sacred place next to an anointed king. The Countess, however, appeared as if a part of the room as a whole, as would the queen of heaven in a nativity tableaux.

As he knelt for each of their blessings reminiscent of a bygone era of peace and childhood, he rose with a solemn smile. To his discomfort the Earl and Countess did not avail the room of its stilted atmosphere with their faces remaining taut like sheets of ice.

‘George we are honoured to be having you here again and with us for near a fortnight, truly much time has passed since you were under our guardianship and a mere lad in the courtyard sparring with play swords’ said the Earl neutrally ‘however the time has come for me to address an issue that we had near no time to discuss while at court.’

What in the heavens could he be referencing? I do not remember exchanging anything but pleasantries with him. Best keep my mouth shut and refrain from guessing or else I may be held to have had expressed my willingness to carry out something I would ne’er do.

The Earl was waiting expectantly. George could not help himself and blurted: ‘My sister Margaret is arranging a marriage between myself and Mary of Burgundy, which she hopes will result in a double alliance between our realms when her own betrothal to Charles I is underway’. Just to think! Margaret and I living in the most marvellous court in Europe and when the Duke’s recklessness resolves in death, her and I can rule the Low Countries like two kings. ‘ And so, before you ask me to wed Isabel, I tell you that I cannot regardless of what you may think you have heard me say at court.’

The Earl let out a full-throated laugh so strong that his whole body appeared to be shaking. Even the Countess stifled a chuckle behind her long ringed fingers. Half a minute went by and the Earl’s head was snapped back in roaring laughter revealing the roof of his mouth, which in this moment was opened so wide it resembled a scarlet cave.

George could not understand what was so funny.

‘George, I am not your doting nursemaid concerned with your heart or an up-jumped merchant who is trying to seduce you with sweetmeats to cajole you into a coupling with my daughter, by entrapping you into my home.’ The Earl began. Laughter still seemed to coat his voice like sugary water hiding overlying vinegar. The incredulous tone denoted an arrogance such that it arose an eyebrow even in the Earl’s wife whose reputation for haughtiness cast a shadow that outran even the borders of her own lands.

George looked at the Countess expectantly - the woman who he loved very nearly as much as his own mother. The woman who never derided him for fidgeting with his book of hours during mass, the woman who applied salve to his wounds when he would constantly fall out of bed and vouched for him that they were earned on the sparring field, in order to shield him from Rob and Thomas Parr’s cruel derision and the potential of Isabel’s incisiveness. He peared down at the forest green of his doublet sleeve in shame. Shame for holding the Countess anywhere near in affection to his own wimple-wearing mother, whose frankness and coldness, though honest, rarely elicited charm.

‘And what you are trying to say cousin is that it is I that should be beseeching you to give your Isabel in marriage to me. That I was invited here to offer myself up in exchange for an honour much above me’ George’s face was puffing up into a crimson that stood out markedly against the cold watery colours of his doublet and cape. ‘You forget that though you may have made my brother king, you did not make me a man, and judging by what a king he turned out to be and-‘

‘And what?’ The Earl prodded on

‘-and what is in fact the truth about his and my diverging lineages’ George’s voice coming out as a strangled whisper ‘we both know the truth and how the divine order has been disturbed’

The Earl nodded knowingly, satisfied that he had extracted the confession he needed from his young cousin at his expense.

‘Therefore, I would find it odd that you find it amusing that I would be in good standing to marry the future young Duchess of Burgundy’ George continued his voice gaining courage ‘You dare insinuate that your offer of Isabel would be charitable and that it is I that should haggle for this honour, when dear cousin it is you who should be humbled by such a match’.

Having confirmed his own suspicion that George personally subscribed to that old rumour, the Earl then knew how to proceed further. He was about to express his proposal in full but seemed interrupted by the Countess who shot up as if in shock. The glare from the gilded edges of her caul burned in the hot summer sun, and indignantly she said ‘You would be calling your mother a whore! The one who sacrificed her life for you after Ludlow to see you safely spirited away to the Low Countries... She would have been queen, George!’

George was at a loss for words. The scales weighing up the two factors in his head were shifting in positions like two poles of a weathervane spinning frantically in a violent storm.

‘Veritas Lux Mea, cousin’ said a solemn George crossing himself. Since I was a ninny and blurted that out, I would do well to act ashamed by it. I shall play George the hero who bears the sacrifice of his mother’s dishonour on his weary shoulders and accepts the crown despite the love he bears for his brother.

The Countess who, like most women, raised her defences upon the suggestion of a fellow women’s dishonour - not for want of defending proud Cis’ honour but her own - was now reverting to her typically restrained composure and peacefully reclaimed her seat, while the Earl let out a resounding ‘hmm’.

George who just now realised that he had been standing throughout this entire encounter, made for the other side of the chamber for a heavy oak chair. Mayhaps I should have demanded Warwick give me his seat in deference and as an apology for keeping me on my feet and knees. Instantly regretting not doing that George stopped midway and took a seat on the chair he dragged with him.

‘George’ began the Earl calmly ‘It seems our minds are ad idem, do you recall the feast where you were made Earl of Richmond and John Woodville bested you at hawking?’

George nodded from the chair across the chamber, his previous bout of anger subsiding into a tired acquiescence.

‘I recall asking you whether you thought you could do better as king. Well do you remember?’ asked the Earl.

‘I remember that too’

‘I could make you king. With you on the throne we could cleanse this country’s government of the Woodville filth, restore piety to the court and mend our ties to France. Between us, what Edward did well was all my merit. If I were to be placed beside you as counsel, we could ensure that your reign would be at least an improvement on the current state of affairs’

‘Then you would recall cousin, that I gave no answer to your question about wanting to be king.’

‘You are too modest George’ said the Earl in an a tone so sweet it was resoundingly artificial. ‘I know your brother better than you do, the years between your ages made sure of that. I can tell you hand on heart that at six and ten years he had less of his wits about him than you now do. Besides if what you said about his paternity be true, then we would make god angry by failing to act’.

‘Now now cousin, if you would put me on the throne in hopes of restoring your French alliance I regret to tell you that I would never allow it. You know very well why. Just as I, you lost a brother and father to that bitch of Anjou and the latter’s head ‘till four years past still stood severed atop the gates of York next to my own father’s’ George realised that his tone was rising in aggression at a rate he could no longer contain, much like a wild horse who after daring to descend a steep hill could no longer calm its trot, descending into a grassy grave.

To his surprise, the Earl let out a melancholic sigh leading The Countess to instinctively place both of her hands over his. The crane white of her embroidered cotton chemise fell over both their hands like a bandage and it looked as though her touch was blocking a bleeding open wound.

The Earl’s voice now lowered to a solemn murmer, so much so that even George felt his fiery temper extinguish. ‘Now George, that is precisely the reason we must mend our relations with France. Margaret is but a distant relative of the French queen and given how France consented to me joining Edward and Bona of Savoy in marriage - his very own sister-in-law -, it is clear that the Spider King is eager to forge new alliances that would suit him better. Leaving that aside, you can now see why I laughed at your suggestion of Mary of Burgundy, for what man would want to be a mere consort of a Duchess when he can be King of England? And if that is what you shall become you can now see how a marriage with the heiress of Edward’s future ally would be quite impossible’

George had been flattered by his favourite sister’s concern in suggesting that marriage, but in truth, he was loyal to that match for his sister’s sake not for some idealisation of the future Duchess who was after all, still years away from her own flowering. Her father still entertains my dastardly brother-in-law Henry of Exeter at his court and with his own Lancastrian heritage, he would be far more likely than even the French to turn to Lancaster. Besides, what would I want with an eight year old bride?

‘I would not marry with Bona of Savoy or any other French Princess. I respect your logic but I cannot be bound to a woman who shares any kinship with the she-wolf that wrecked havoc over my life since I came into this earth’ stated George.

George suspected the Earl would arrogantly state that France would not give one of its daughters to a second son like him as an indemnity - a gamble too high even for the most compulsive gambler - which Louis XI was anything but.

He instead said: ‘I know that George. It simply will not do. All you need is here in England - a wife of a family even older than the Plantagenets whose loyalties would run with yours’

‘I know what you will suggest and I would marry Isabel, cousin. But not like this. I would not be your pawn like Edward was and I will not have her imposed upon me from above as if you would be my superior, ingratiating my humble person with so lofty a marriage’ said George

‘My apologies George, if my tone and actions were conducive to you believing me haughty. It is you who is the true heir of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, you would be our king and I your counsel but nothing more - I would not have thought you to accept any different. Now Isabel I recommend unto you for more than her blood. My finest daughter has the bearing of a queen from near birth and is well-read and wise beyond her years. If I may say so at risk of betraying her secret: she took a liking to you long before a marriage has even reached our minds and if I may be so bold, I believe you have noticed that too and care for her affection more than a jot’

‘Indeed cousin, I have always remarked her beauty and despite our familiarity, she still retains an otherworldliness to her that captivates and assures me, that in her, I may find the solace needed to keep my wits about me on the road to kingship’ said George already starting to alight from his chair in order to advance towards the Earl and Countess to ritualistically perform the hand-on-knee proposal for their daughter’s hand.

After once again receiving both their blessings and being brought up by the Countess to be embraced and kissed by her painted red lips as a son-in-law, he added ‘I do not know how strong her feelings are towards me, but at this point I could imagine no one else as my bride. If there ever was a plot concocted since our infancies to bring us together you may congratulate yourselves on your successes. I may not love her yet, but I am sure I shall forthwith. But cousin, you may count on my love and your daughter’s happiness as long as she be my wife and you do not perpetually dangle her fortune in my face to humble me, nor turn her into my keeper or a spy against me. Are we understood?’

The Earl and Countess nodded at what seemed both a reasonable and achievable request.

‘Do invite her to sit with you at dinner tonight, we have arranged a banquet honouring your return and perhaps you may be the one to tell her of your marriage. I am sure she would be joyous to hear it from you.’ said the Earl while the Countess smirked discreetly.

Exhausted after passing through more emotions in an afternoon than he would have in a week, George straightened his Scarlett hose which had wrinkled from all the twitching and tensing. He sauntered off out of the chamber and through the hall leading into the bailey, convinced he held his own as much as any man could against persons as formidable as the Earl and his Countess.

After the banquet George followed Isabel at her father’s behest out into the the courtyard of Middleham castle, away from the prying Neville eyes, yet still close enough that upon a twitch of the thread they would both fall back into their palms.

Isabel who had been so charming throughout dinner was now growing shyer with each miniscule step she daintily took. Her indigo skirts flashed in a dying opulence as the Wensleydale sunset befell the land in all its summer glory, and Isabel as well, as the snowy silk of her henin now appeared a pale orange complementing the warmth of her flushed cheeks where before the wine, were of custom icely pale.

George wondered at the how the hues of those northern lands were subject to the reign of the sun, which instead of setting at this hour as it would in the south, it merely turned all around it darker and in many ways deeper.

Finding it to be a fine time to stop this treck, George beckoned Isabel to sit by him. She happily obliged but said not a word as her gaze remained transfixed on the the juniper-coloured grass below them.

‘How did you find the feast my lord of Clarence? Father knew how much you love venison and Malmsey wine so he was very glad to have procured them for your arrival’ she said courteously yet still not sparing him even a look.

‘It was more than I could hope it to be’ he smiled

‘I am glad of it, my lord’

George ever the impatient man, decided to urge the conversation forwards. He gently yet decisively reached for both her hands turning her ever so slightly towards him. ‘Isabel, it is not my lord of Clarence but George, why would you impose such formalities on our correspondance?’

To his surprise she did not flinch, but rather seemed to expect this sudden gesture of closeness. This he found passing strange. Yet through it all she still feigned a degree of wide-eyed shyness.

‘I suppose you are right... George. You and I are well-acquainted. You just seem so much changed that you appear to me a man of the court now, not the boy who used to play practical jokes on Dickon and Margaret’.

‘Ah yes, remember when I tied Richard’s bootlaces to the stirrups and when he tried to canter, the horse threw him into the lake?’.

‘I felt wicked for laughing, but in truth I laughed so hard that day, that I gave myself a stomach knot’.

‘We were always the most wicked ones, I think’.

‘Me?’ questioned Isabel, smiling and palm on chest as if shocked by such a revelation. The flirt in her is returning, I see.

��Yes, you. Remember when you thought it would be amusing to trap a frog inside Margaret’s salve. The poor thing decomposed in there and it was months until she realised that at the bottom of her pot, lay the entrails of that poor animal’.

‘Now that I think of it, my transgressions were much more ungodly than yours. Oh George, now you have made me feel bad for the poor frog. I had nearly forgotten!’ She said warmth slipping into her tone like a hot spring over a snowy valley.

‘Yes but you were always shrewd enough not to get caught’. He added with a wistfulness at the tip of his tongue.

Read the rest on here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268239/chapters/54573088

All Chapters included :)

[aetherical-cosmos]

The Horrors We Bear: Part 2

(⚠ Trigger warning! Death, autopsy procedures, possible post-gore)

I felt I was at a complete loss.

I performed her autopsy, only to find that her lungs were full of water that was not native to Ul'dah but to the western Thanalan area, Vesper Bay to be precise. The silt and clay-like sediment there was slightly caked around her bronchioli and I couldn't really see any other cause of death but drowning. There was only a slight bit of blood in her lungs, possibly from vessels bursting as she inhaled so much water and the over-contracting of her lungs to dispel it. I chalked it up to a classic case of someone drowning her and left it at that.

Who would've done this to someone so young and full of life? Her name was Serena Torwyn. She belonged to a family who loved her. She had friends who were now mourning her loss. A wealthy merchant's daughter, she was in the prime of her life enjoying privileged luxuries but also made her mark in the world as a philanthropist and charitable towards those less fortunate. She was also engaged. However, what didn't escape me before learning this knowledge was the absence of said ring though it was obvious it was something she wore daily by the intention left upon her skin. Nothing of her past suggested anything but an honest, hard work, eager student to learn her family's craft in the jewel trade in order to see it succeed for her own goals. To have that all cut so short so senselessly began to make my blood boil.

My assistant Sera had been taking my notes as I guide her through the entire exam. I checked her eyes, they were milky white with the luster of death. I also checked her body for any other possible wounds, anything that would lead me in a possible direction for better evidence. Nothing. Defeated about this whole ordeal, I sent my entire lab staff home to be with their families so that I might have a bit more peace and quiet to concentrate on this case. All of the signs pointed to a malicious drowning; this was an angry death. I felt it in my bones as I started to cover her back up and place her body back within to cold storage.

The only way I'll know about the actual death is to retrieve some kind of evidence from the bay. Damn my lack of learning how to swim! Dad, Uncle Ivar, Uncle Reese? My brothers? I'm sure they'd be willing to lend a hand.

After such a long morning of trying to figure out what was to come of Serena's case the very next day, I felt I was at a complete loss.

As I sit here at my desk as I mentally prepare for the Torwyn autopsy, I just stare at the blank parchment in which I would start the preliminary findings of my report.

Vesper Bay in Thanalan is quite deep, despite how tranquil and inviting the surface of the water looks, and what evidence I've been able to gather from Serena's autopsy gave me samples of plant life and silt and debris that are not common to Horizon or even outside of Ul'dah. When running the samples that came from her lungs with local bodies of water, Vesper Bay was the closest match. Dad and Uncle Ivar braved early morning fog in order to get to the bottom of the bay and retrieve some samples of the mud and silt.

We had an absolute match.

So, what happened?

I start the autopsy with eagerness to retrieve the evidence needed; my findings collaborate that she was alive when she went into the water, as a fine white foam was found in her airways; the water that had eventually resurfaced and was churned while in the process of trying to be exuded from the body. This happens shortly after death, when the brain is still providing electrical impulses to the rest of the body as it struggles to stay alive without support from the heart or other vital organs.

I make a small incision with my scalpel at the lower area of her left lung, taking care that it doesn't collapse while I hold my finger over the cut to place a small glass tube into it to filter out the contents within. A collapsed lung was messy business and would disrupt whatever evidence may still be in her lungs in order to properly diagnose a CoD and retrieve evidence. The silty liquid within would filter out into a small bucket at the side of the table I kept her on. I'd do the same with the other lung once I gently pushed upon it to make certain that all of the liquid was expelled before I could perform the procedure.

I begin to cut through the layers of her skin and lungs to find that her bronchioli are covered and surrounded with tiny spores, speckles of mud and mold here and there, and lots of silt. He must've had her at close to the bottom when she took her last breath, whether it was shallow or deep water...the silt was the same throughout the bay floor. There is a larger amount of blood in her lungs, moreso than what would normally be found from a drowning. I follow the path through her nose and lower throat to the lungs and see nothing out of the ordinary.

Her lower throat was quite swollen from asphyxiation. I found it curious that a piece of that thick bay kelp was sitting around her throat when her body was brought back to the lab. Could the drowning have resulted from that?

My assistant, Sera Kierney, documents my findings as she remains with me. She's probably one of the few people in this office that has legible handwriting aside from myself and often I have her write out the obituaries for the deceased as she delivers them to the various city-state news criers for me. She's a very special girl, near and dear to my heart as her kindness towards her fellow man just completely astounds me. She sees me smile at her, she remains a safe distance away from me to protect herself from injury or infection.

"Is something wrong, Dr. Nicholaides?" She could always read my concerns like she had a sixth sense for it.

"Honestly, this death...it was angry, violent. I can't help but feel a screaming at the back of my mind that is nagging me forward to discover more about what had happened to her. Listen, Sera, the Sultansworn are requesting this report personally because they believe that the current investigation of certain Syndicate members could be partially related to this case. Whatever findings we come across will be presented to the Sultansworn as evidence. Don't say anything, this particular case has to be 'by the book' politically and if they're involved, this will be one way to find out."

Sera nodded. I could hear her continuing to scrawl out the dictation from me. I could trust her to know that everything I said would be recorded verbatum. "Dr. Nicholaides, this is technically my first time recording a drowning. Would we need to take any special care to the terminology that we use so that way it's easily understood by the officers reading the report?"

Gods, Sera. This is why I chose you.

"Yes. We need to make this as layman as possible for them to understand. Not everyone is familiar with our vocabulary. Medical definitions probably won't be as easily understood by the law enforcement officials as they are for the medical community. So, let's begin with proper, basic procedure about how to diagnose a CoD properly."

I take a deep breath, still inspecting Serena's inner organs for any other clues.

"Alright, let's start with the given obvious:

Drowning: suffocation due to immersion of the nostrils and mouth in a liquid.

Qualifications of Drowning:

• the mechanism of death is complex and varies somewhat with circumstances. It is not simply an asphyxiation due to suffocation in a liquid.

• immersion of the nostrils and mouth is the minimal requirement, typically the entire body is submerged in the liquid.

• the liquid is most commonly water but drowning can occur in any liquid e.g. beer, wine, or some other chemical solution.

Mechinism of Death:

Drowning in the aspirated water is rapidly absorbed from the alveoli into the circulation producing an expansion of blood volume, haemodilution and haemolysis. Within three minutes of submersion is circulatory overload, hyponatraemia and sodium/potassium imbalance together with myocardial hypoxia resulted in a dramatic collapse of systolic pressure quickly followed in the majority of cases by ventricular fibrillation.

In the case of Serena Torwyn, there is terminal pulmonary oedema:

Phases of Drowning:

1. Submersion is followed by struggle which subsides with exhaustion and drowning begins.

2. Breath holding lasts until carbon dioxide accumulation stimulates respiration resulting in inhalation of water.

3. Gulping of water coughing and vomiting is rapidly followed by loss of consciousness.

4. Profound unconsciousness and convulsions are associated with involuntary respiratory movements and the aspiration of water. Respiratory failure precedes heart failure in one-third of cases it is coincident in one-third and follows it in the other third.

5. Death occurs within 2 to 3 minutes. Death is almost invariable when the period of submersion exceeds 10 minutes.

Pathological findings thus far:

Foam in the airways;

Emphysema aquosum - The lungs are voluminous/bulky/ballooned. The pleural surface has a marbled appearance with grey-blue to dark red areas interspersed with pink and yellow-grey zones of more aerated tissue. They feel doughy and pit on pressure. On sectioning there is a flow of watery material. The appearances reflect active inspiration of air and water and cannot be reproduced by the passive flooding of the lungs with water.

Foreign material in airways, lungs and stomach - sand, kelp and silt are found in all airways;

Middle ear and mastoid air cell hemorrhage;

Along with the above listed, she was asphyxiated with the assailant behind her and pulling his force backward with an unidentified object's impression left against the skin of her throat and causing massive contusions from the collarbone to jawline areas."

Sera nodded as soon as I had finished speaking. "That sounds very thorough, Dr. Nicholaides. Is there anything else you'd like to add before I start to close this documentation?"

I had to stop and think about it for a moment. I shook my head. "No, none that I can think of, sweeting. I very much appreciate your diligence in making sure the wording is correct."

It was odd that all I could think of was the vision I received when I retrieved her body the night before as I began to close the chest cavity, weaving a fine twine in and out of her flesh as I tried to mend it together as best I could. Once I was done with that, to prevent what bleeding the body had left to do as it wasn't going to mend from the surgery, I peeled off my gloves and pulled out a large, thick, padded gauze to wrap Serena's cold body within to soak up any possible blood that would've leaked. It would've made for bad form if, during the funeral, blood started seeping through her clothes. I couldn't have a poor grieving family seeing such a gruesome sight after the traumatic loss of a loved one.

My assistant pulled out the appendage extensions, sliding them from underneath the main table as we propped Serena's arms upon them. I'd double check them to make sure there wasn't anything I didn't take note of. From there, Sera pulled her arms out, streamlining them above her head as we began rolling her torso, rotating her entire body so that it was a decent wrap. Once we felt content that we had used enough gauze, I used a bonding agent against some parchment paper to seal the gauze against her body to seal in any moisture.

Once I was finished with my work, I was exhausted. The intricate networks of nerves, tendons, and connective tissues are a map of frustration. Sera and I pushed the appendage extensions back underneath the main of the table, picking up her body, putting back on the gurney and wheeling it back to the cold storage. We pulled the metal pull-out ledge out just enough to place her body back upon it as carefully as possible. 1...2...3...we picked her body up via bedsheet and placed her back flatly upon it. Sera was tender in the handling of this young woman's body, being the utmost respectful as she wrapped the sheet back around Serena as if she was tucking her into bed. We pushed the metal ledge back into the cold storage door, Serena's body vaulted within.

I looked down at my clothes, thin cotton tunic and loose color-matching pants. I took off the layer above that as it had a few tiny amounts of blood on it. Instead of sending it to the laundry I just simply discarded it as I began to wash my hands, my thoughts drifting to how we were going to retrieve more evidence I needed from the bay. All I could think about was the cold water to running over the skin of my fingers as I tried to clear my mind. I looked down at my right index finger for a moment, thinking in parallel about where Serena's had cut off at the top digit. I shivered and shut the water off, flinging the water from my hands into the basin as I looked about for a towel. The soft cotton against my skin gave me a sort of odd comfort for a moment.

I walked back to my office and pulled my white lab coat around me. I had several, but this one was my particular favorite as it had "Zarabeth Corynne Nicholaides, Physician/Medical Examiner" monogrammed upon the area between my shoulder and breast. It also carried a few pins: my graduate pin from the academy labeling me a doctor, my honors pin from the place within my class I had graduated, and a commendation from the various city-states in Aldenard for my dedication to my job. One last one was there as it was an amethyst in a gold setting, heart-shaped and engraved "With Love, Daddy and Momma". I looked at it a moment and smiled, I hoped that I had reached that point in my life where they both had finally accepted my path of choice...I at least knew Daddy had. He's already once seen me hard at work, especially while I was comforting a grieving family.

Sera insisted on remaining to clean up the surgery theater. I couldn't help but smile. She knew that I had wanted to get out as soon as I could to take my first breather of the day though the sun was completely set. "Go on, I got this", she'd reassure me. I nodded, "You know how to get a hold of me if you need me for anything. As always, thank you so very much for all of your hard work Sera...it's very highly appreciated."

I walked out, locking her in as I always did. I nodded to the two Flames guarding the office door and took the short route to Iria's office in the Lavender Beds.

I had a sneaking suspicion that this particular case was going to be a difficult obstacle to overcome in the weeks and months ahead and I had to do everything I could to prepare myself mentally for it. I had mental endurance for days but, unlike the typical cases I usually handled on a day to day basis, this one was, I knew for a fact, going to be far more complex than anything that was routine for me. I could only hope that the mental acumen and investigative practices the law enforcement officials of the realm could meet the expectations and succeed the faith the public places into them to find the guilty party and bring them to justice. Time would only tell what was in store for me as the investigation started to unfold. My question wasn't one of whether or not I was prepared, but moreso of what would linger with me in the coming days ahead. It was an obvious given that this case would be a memorable one whether I chose to commit it to memory or not.

Someone would eventually be brought to justice with blood on their hands, and I would eagerly await the opportunity to learn of whom was the guilty party.

[theblueskyphoenix]

Grid Ghost Chapter 2: Down and Out

Obake was doing his best to keep himself from falling over. He only had another block or so to go before he reached his destination. He could taste copper in his mouth.

Never a good sign.

His steps were staggering, his vision flickering but he kept pushing till he was finally through a set of doors. Soon as he passed through, he let himself fall to the floor, his eyes sliding shut.

Before he blacked out entirely, he could hear people coming towards him. Their voices had a slight panic to them yet they were mostly calm.

The last thing he could hear clearly was someone shouting:

“Get him on a stretcher and have an OR on standby!”

I’ll leave the rest to you, now.

Please, don’t kill me.

oooooo

Dr. Shaylin Sky was used to crazy.

When you sign up to be a doctor, it was a given that anything could possibly go wrong and anything could possibly happen during a shift at a hospital and you just had to learn to roll with it and not question things.

Though sometimes she wished nights could be quieter. Especially when she was about to head home.

It had been a long day of appointments and assisting surgeons in surgery and trying to get the hospital back in proper working order after everything went to heck with concerns of the city being destroyed by a star that seemed to come out of nowhere.

And now… she had an unconscious man she was rushing to an OR after exams had revealed he was suffering massive amounts of internal bleeding in the abdominal region.

Along with something else that was definitely not normal but I don’t got time for that. Treat and stabilize now, ask questions later.

As soon as the man was in the OR she quickly scrubbed in before joining in on the procedure.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home?” The surgeon asked as he started to make incisions into the affected areas. “And is a blood transfusion on the way?”

“I would be, Leon, but I had a man pass out on the floor in front of me and you know I don’t like dropping a patient and running, even if I’m supposed to be gone by now and yes, I got the boys looking through our O- stash as we speak.

"Devoted as ever and good, because he’s losing a lot and fast.” Leon narrowed his eyes. “What the heck did he do to himself? Throw himself off a building?”

“Doubt it, considering the only broken bones I saw in the scans were a couple of ribs. If he had been thrown off a building there would be a lot more broken. Though with the bruises he’s got on him he certainly had something rough happen be it a landing or a fight. Just not sure what.”

“Questions we can ask him once he’s stable and awake. Clamps, please.”

Shaylin handed Leon on the tool in question.

“Oh, trust me, I got a LOT of questions for this guy once he’s conscious and lucid.”

“That’s an omen.” Leon looked to Shaylin with some concern. “See something of interest in your exam?”

“Nothing harmful… I think but it was… definitely of interest.”

“Wanna enlighten me?”

“Drain blood and fix injuries first, then I’ll tell you.”

“Very well.” Leon eyed the man’s face before getting back to work. “Though, gotta say, it’s a miracle he made it here on his own. You said he stumbled on in?”

“Yeah. Again, not sure what the story is but I’m sure we’ll find out soon.”

And I get the feeling it’s going to be a weird one.

oooooo

For Obake, it had only been a few minutes between when he had blacked out to when he was waking up again. He knew it had certainly been longer than a few minutes he just wasn’t sure how much longer.

As he opened his eyes, he could hear the faint sounds of a heart monitor beeping and the dripping of an IV bag.

Those are sounds that bring back memories…

“Just a little longer, Bob. You’re almost done.”

“Just a few more drops then we can go home and watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles together like you promised, Daddy! You can do it!”

For a moment, he was back in that treatment bed again, his daughter holding his hand while his wife monitored his vitals. He could see a young Trina smiling at him, hopefulness in her light blue eyes as she helped keep him comfortable.

It all quickly faded as a voice broke the illusion, revealing he was in an ICU room with a woman he didn’t recognize.

The woman appeared to be of latina descent with tan skin and light brown hair that was pulled into a loose ponytail. She had a look of concern in her deep blue eyes. Judging from the lab coat and ID tag she had hanging around her neck, she was most likely a doctor.

He squinted his eyes to read the name on the ID tag.

“Dr. Shaylin Sky”

“With me?” she asked.

“More or less.” He said, practically whispered. He cringed, bringing a hand to his abdomen. “What happened…?”

“You collapsed in our ER bay. You were rushed in for emergency surgery after some quick tests. You had a couple of broken ribs and massive internal bleeding in the abdominal region due to damage done to various organs. All of it was treated and you’re stable now and are on strict bed rest till further notice.”

“I see… perfect.” Obake sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Anything else I need to know about in regards to injuries?”

“No… More so I need to know about something.”

Obake looked to Shaylin, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Shaylin crossed her arms.

“You got an interesting looking implant on the left side of your skull… and a pretty nicely sized tumor to boot. I doubt those are things you don’t know about. Care to explain?”

Obake glanced to the side.

“… I have to ask a question before I can answer anything in regards to those two things. Are you associated with Sycorax or Liv Amara?”

Shaylin gave a disgusted look.

“The day I associate with that woman or her company is the day I resign from being a doctor. No offense to her and her work but I don’t like her attitude. She’s just…. condescending and sometimes has no regards for morality… It's… a long story. Either way, no, I am not associated with her, nor is this particular hospital. They’re not rich enough for her. Who wants to know?”

Obake let out another sigh.

“Bob Aken wants to know, that’s who.”

Shaylin’s eyes widened at this, though kept her composure.

“Go on.”

Obake closed his eyes.

“I’ve had this tumor in my head since I was 15 years old that manifested due to a rather unfortunate accident with an experiment. It was managed with chemo treatments for the longest time till around last year when someone came in, claiming they could help me. This someone being Liv Amara.” Obake opened his eyes, his implant letting off a glow for a second. “This implant was supposed to cure me… when it all it did was make things worse.” His eyes narrowed. “She took everything from me that day I entered her operating room doors… all with a simple series of shocks.”

“Your family is none of your concern anymore, Obake. Your concern is making your mark on San Fransokyo. To be remembered as a legend.”

Obake was panting, grabbing at the table as electricity pulsed through his mind.

“Ngh! No! Kim… Trina… I… Gck! I need to…”

“Shhhh…” Liv brought a hand to his cheek again, stroking it with her thumb. “They’re not here anymore… It’s just you, Obake. You’re alone. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Think of all you can do. No limits whatsoever. You can be the genius you longed to be. You can make great accomplishments. You can make Grace regret ever abandoning you in your time of need. You can make her wish she had never given up on you.”

“I… I….” Obake’s pupils dilated. “I could be… remembered by all…”

“That’s right.” Liv smiled. “You just have to do exactly as I tell you. There’s no Bob Aken anymore. There is only Obake. A ghost. But soon to be remembered and revered by all.”

“Remembered… and revered by all.”

Obake grabbed at the blankets of his bed, lowering his head.

“I haven’t been in my right mind for awhile now… and I want it to stop. And I only know one person I could trust with my head.” Obake looked at Shaylin. “Do you know Dr. Kim Aken?”

Shaylin nodded.

“I do. She’s a dear friend of mine… who has been dearly missing her husband who disappeared around last year.” Shaylin’s look turned gentle. “And it seems he’s finally been found.”

Obake nodded.

“Can you get me to her? And do you have my things? There’s some important equipment in that backpack I came in with along with the USB I had around my neck.”

“Yes and yes. I have your possessions in my office for safekeeping and I can contact Kim’s hospital right away and have you transferred.”

“Thank you… Where is she at, by the way?”

“Saga Regional Hospital.”

Home…

“Good… I want to get away from this city for a bit.” Obake leaned back into his pillow. “Too much crime and too much noise.”

Shaylin chuckled.

“Kim said the same thing.” She gave a small smile. “You know, she never stopped looking for you. Even came here for a bit with her daughter in hopes they’d find you. They’re going to be so happy when they see you.”

“Maybe… though I’m expecting irritation considering my current state.”

And telling them what I’ve been doing for the past year. That’s going to be fun.

“Possibly. Kim’s more level headed than I am. If you were my husband you would’ve gotten a slight pow pow.”

“And a sandal?”

“That’s la chancla to you, mister.”

“Nuance.”

Shaylin rolled her eyes, getting up from her chair.

“I’ll go make some calls then. Can I get you anything?”

Obake gave a small smirk.

“I have a blueberry scone in a tupperware in that backpack of mine. I’d like to eat it now, please.”

Shaylin smirked, shaking her head.

“You’re not gonna be able to enjoy it as you are so, patience on that one.”

“Oh, come now, I know how to eat slow.”

“Eat it when you don’t have a tumor the size of a ping pong ball suppressing your right from wrong junction.”

Shaylin left without another word.

Obake gave a flat look, plopping his head into his pillow.

It’s called the temporo-parietal junction, plebeian.

… And it’s not the size of a ping pong ball!

[reignsupremewellness-blog]

Memoir PT.1

What all started as a routine physical almost three years ago has been a big effect in my life today. The last year has been filled with doctors, tests, and more tests. For most of my young womanhood I have always had trouble with weight gain, hormonal cystic acne, depression, staying motivated, and dietary issues. This has always had me really alert and adamant about doing everything in my control to maintain a healthy lifestyles to make changes on most of my concerns. I was constantly at the dermatologist, gynecologist and my primary care doctor for birth control or hormone therapy, topical treatments or antibiotics. In the back of my mind I knew that it could possibly that I had an imbalance or that something was not functioning correctly in my body because the struggles were so far out of reach for me with making progress.  

Three years ago I was having my regular physical at my primary care. It has always been normal for my blood work and vitals to be normal and everything was functioning well. My doctor was a very sweet and humorous young woman I had been seeing her for almost a year at that point. She was very knowledgeable and always assisting me with my needs and concerns. While dong my exam she paused when she reached my neck area. She then began to feel on the front of my neck in my thyroid area focusing on the lower area. She asked me if I had noticed that there was a lump in my thyroid area or if I had any pain or trouble swallowing. I began to feel the lump and surprisingly it was pretty noticeable and felt firm, did not notice it before and it did not have any pain. She scheduled me an appointment in radiology to get a sonogram of that area. After my first sonogram it was shown that I had a 1.5 cm nodule on the right side of my thyroid, after that she scheduled me to see an endocrinologist and I was then scheduled to have a fine needle aspiration biopsy. I knew that this was pretty serious and was something that needed to be addressed and when my appointment came for some odd reason I decided to go alone. I was nowhere prepared as I thought I was for my biopsy procedure I read up on the biopsy process but I guess I did not think it was going to be that bad.  The procedure is very uncomfortable while laying on your back with a little numbing gel on your neck that did nothing but burn for me because I have sensitive skin. The doctor inserts a three inch needle in my neck four times to draw out four samples from the nodule. Not a pleasant feeling and I never wanted to experience that again. The result of that biopsy came back with results being undetermined. Undetermined was still not a crystal clear result and not cancelling or confirming if that nodule was benign or cancerous. So I had to schedule another fine needle aspiration three months from then.

After having some health insurance issues out of my control I was no longer covered to receive treatments at my physician’s office. I received this news about a month before my second biopsy appointment. I would have to start this process all over with a new team of doctors. During this time that I was switching my doctors I began to do a lot of research on this, growing very knowledgeable on thyroid and the connection it plays on my overall health. Including issues with my hormones, acne, anxiety and momentum, everything was started to all come together and make more sense to me.  

Months of getting new appointments scheduled, labs transferred and specialty referrals I finally had a new endocrinologist to take over with my biopsy. Last year in September 2018 my second biopsy appointment finally arrived this time I absolutely did not go alone, I asked my angel to come. My mom happily obliged to accompany me to my appointment she has always shown me a great deal of support, faith and encouragement. While having the biopsy which included a sonogram it was shown that in addition to my 1.5 cm nodule, I had a second nodule on the right side of my thyroid, but it was under the size that required testing. About three weeks later the results came back with the result undetermined again. At this point things became a scary for me I knew that this was something that could turn out to be very serious but I always had a lot of faith and was positive that it was nothing wrong.

My third fine needle aspiration biopsy was scheduled and trust me I was not looking forward to it at ALL and I was really nervous about the outcome of my testing. My endocrinologist explained to me that this time the samples from the biopsy would be tested in a different way from the first and second biopsy and it would be sent on for genetic testing. Genetic testing was a new technology that is used recently to test the cells in the nodule and get clearer results. My doctor revealed all of the possible outcomes depending on the results and that it was a chance that my nodule was cancerous, and if it was cancerous I would have to undergo surgery to remove partial of my thyroid or my entire thyroid and have to take synthetic hormone medicine for the rest of my natural life and receive cancer treatment. There was also a chance that the nodule could be benign and could be left alone. In my mind I was like, “ME WITH CANCER? NO WAY…NO WAY, THERE COULD BE NO WAY. Honestly these thoughts sat with me day and night I did not know was in store for my future.

A month and a half later my results came back from the genetic test. The results were “malignant follicular neoplasm”.  Malignant follicular neoplasm means that the genetic testing came back positive for cancer cells.  All of this was very scary for me I had not had any other medical issues or surgery thankfully. Not only was this very disappointing for me it was officially stated that I could have cancer and I knew that the chances of the nodule benign was out of the window. Again that result was not crystal clear, so you know what that meant MORE TESTING. At that point I wanted more to just be healthy, I wanted answers, and I did not want to have anything to do with cancer. Unfortunately for me cancer was a %50 chance, and I had to schedule my surgery to remove that right side of my thyroid.

My endocrinologist referred me to an otolaryngologist surgeon and we decided to just take out of right side of my thyroid that contained nodules, the fact that it was a %50 chance that the nodule was cancerous or benign. It was explained to me that if that pathology report from my surgery shown that it was cancer I would have to have another surgery within the next month to have the left side of thyroid removed and start cancer treatment and begin to take the synthetic hormone until my last days on earth.  After discussing all possible options and outcomes, and testing my vocal cords with a spydy camera inside of my nostrils all the way down to my voice box it was time to schedule my surgery. Being faith driven I decided to look at the glass being half full instead of half empty and for that reason alone I told myself that it would not be cancer.  

The big day was scheduled for January 11, 2019. It was an outpatient surgery and I stayed overnight for observation it was my first surgery ever and anesthesia was involved which was also a first for me. My recovery time was about a month and it was not easy.  Very difficult to talk, eat, drink, and swallow because of the breathing tube and my painful incision. Transitioning and recovery was a roller coaster to me and this new situation required a lot of lifestyle changes. I also had some mess with my employer that did not make this process for me any easier. I had to get used to my new scar that was difficult for me too and made my situation a little more transparent than I wanted it to be. Two weeks after my surgery the results were in. I was diagnosed with Papillary Carcinoma aka thyroid cancer. To make matters worse another surgery had to be scheduled to remove the other side of my thyroid in THREE WEEKS. I have to go through this surgery process all over again and deal with my new condition. What a BLOW, honestly this news blew me away I was in total disbelief, shocked, saddened, the worst heartbreak yet. How could I have cancer? What did I do to cause it? Will this cancer spread? Will I die? Is cancer therapy going to drastically change my life and I will have no hair or energy? I could write a book on the emotions I felt just alone from the doctor telling me my results. It was time to share this news, tell my family and closest friends and deal with it. Tell my employer which is my least favorite place, my personal life changing news. I went numb like a zombie, I was having an out of body experience knowing I was functioning but not feeling like I was physically present day in and out. I am a very private and reserved person now in my life and it was not easy to talk about or explain this to people.

[okimargarvez]

FEW HOURS IN LUKE ALVEZ’S MIND - 2

Original title: Few hours in Luke Alvez’s mind.

Prompt: Luke’ POV, memory of war.

Warning: quote of 12x1.

Genre: comedy, family, angst, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, BAU team.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot.

Legend: 🔦🐶.

Song mentioned: none.

Few hours in Luke Alvez’s mind- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

Part 2

I spend the whole weekend immersed in sheets, photographs and damn memories. Most of the data held by BAU on Cullen doesn’t tell me anything new, nothing I didn’t already know. After all, it was I who caught him on the fact and brought him to justice. I even read my report, written a few hours later. It doesn’t even seem so obvious that I was in a state of shock at that time.

Roxy tries to distract me anyway, but this time neither she can help me.

That's why when I finally hear the sound that announces that it's Monday, I get up almost joyfully, I collect everything, throw it in my bag and I almost seems to be lighter, when the plane begins the take-off phase.

This time I am not fascinated by the size of the building, nor by the number of offices, doors and stairs that go in every direction. However, without knowing why, I contradict what I had said last time and decide to entrust myself to the elevator. When the doors open, what my eyes see is an intense stain of pink, white, blue and obviously yellow. Even Penelope notices my presence, because she turns her head slightly in the opposite direction to mine. Is she not happy to see me, or maybe she has some problem?

-Hey.- it comes out with a low and almost whispered tone. With her distant way of doing, she manages to put me in awe and almost in embarassament. What a ridiculous thing! She almost seems to swallow in returning my greeting, lowering and raising her head quickly in a military gesture.

-Good morning.- once again the tone is flat, aseptic. After a moment of sighs, I decide to throw myself. Perhaps she behaves like this only because we don’t know each other well yet. And I intend to immediately remedy it.

-How... how was your weekend?- I dare to look at her, hinting a smile, but the blonde is still statuesque, impassive and looks not interested to reciprocate or even just to consider me. I finally give up, looking back at the elevator doors. The journey is looking a lot longer than the other time.

-I don’t really discuss my personal life with my co-workers.- she decides at the end to say, with a way of doing as if telling an obviousness and only my being a stranger to her team, makes me so stupid that I don't know already. But her voice is so serious and hard that I find myself again intent on staring at her, nodding unconsciously.

-Really?- I sound a little too incredulous, with my tone, but how can I think she is telling the truth, after seeing how she behaves with Reid?

For the first time, she looks at me, but it is only a moment and I don’t even have time to cross her eyes. -I keep it real a low profile, here.- and the fact that she added this adverb of place as a specification, inevitably pushes me to ask myself in which other places she behaves differently. But it's none of my business. Although that opinionated air pushes me in the opposite direction, to investigate lands that will surely turn into quicksand. While I'm thinking about what to say, she starts again to talk. -If you must know, I hung out with my boyfriend- while she makes her proclamation she turns voluntarily towards me, and I do the same -who is super hot, and awesome and totally in love with me.- every detail that she adds to the dose increases but paradoxically makes her speech seem even more unjustified. She raises her eyebrows and seems to want to provoke me. And I accept the challenge, amused by her attempts to look cold and by the desire to keep me at a distance anyway.

-That’s cool.- she stops looking at me, I don’t. I smile in a rather incredulous way, that if she turned towards me, she could be mistaken for a joke towards her. Not knowing how to get out, I shoot the first bullshit that runs through my head. -You guys go out, or ...?- I scrutinize her reaction from the corner of my eye.

-No. We stayed in and he helped me with some fingering techniques.- she announces, relaxed, then, realizing the shocked way in which I am looking at her, she hurries to add details that clarify what she really meant. -For my clarinet, which I practice and he helps me.- but now the mind has started towards unknown shores. And her attempts to make the double meaning less apparent, her embarrassment, and the way she is passionate about defending her cause, her red cheeks, make it all funnier. -And this conversation is making me uncomfortable.- I nod, aware I still have the serial maniac look on my face. She hears a beep, looks down at the phone -And I’m sorry, I must go, Agent Hotchner needs me.- she tries to show herself professional and a moment later she is saved from the elevator opening, but her voice it is too acute (and perhaps partly even pained) because the effect she hopes can work.

I don’t know why, I cry out: -Uh, I made lasagna.- perhaps to continue our challenge that ended with my victory by abandonment by the adversary.

And without looking back, stiff, she responds with a dry -I do not care.- resigned, shaking my head, I decide to finally come out of the elevator in my turn.

 -A Tempe, in Arizona, was found a guy who wandered aimlessly, with an object around his neck... a weird object...- the photograph shows what looks like a shaft with the space to insert the wrists and a kind of collar, which in part makes the victim seem crucified -... but above all he had these signs on the body.- this is instead a human chest and there are only three letters incised: BAU.

-He definitely wants to get our attention... and it's working.- JJ expresses her opinion for the first time since the meeting began. A fist bangs on the table. I realize that it was Hotcher, the big boss who seemed so calm.

-It's a provocation!- Rossi exchanges a look with the blonde sitting next to him, there seems to be something I don’t know, but who doesn’t even know Tara.

-Wheels' up in twenty minutes.- and said that, Hotch stands up and leaves the room, very nervous.

Fortunately, Rossi had hinted at the possibility of having to leave Quantico suddenly, so I have with me a bag perfectly suited to the occasion, with everything I need. The only thing I regret is not to have alerted Roxy, but I can call Jessica to go and keep her company.

 The jet is not quite as I had imagined it. It's definitely better. Equipped with all the comforts. Everyone sits down, they seem to have almost permanent seats. We don’t have such resources at the task force. I try not to be too amazed. I find my place and start to reread the file for the umpteenth time. Now new sheets have been added concerning the case of this boy found in the desert.

Spencer's exclamation, sitting right in front of me, attracts my attention. -Off of bubble gum?- I ask incredulously. -For real?- it seems strange enough to me, but apparently it's not.

-We've seen the use of aerosolized drugs before.- Spencer begins to explain in the tone of a professor. The others raise their eyes to the sky, JJ chuckles. -One called scopolamine puts you in a catatonic state. The other, sevoflurane, is used during dental surgery. It puts you in a suggestible, almost hypnotic trance.- too many complex terms, even if I understand where her wants to go. I did chemical studies before joining the rangers. But I'm a bit rusty.

-And because it's used in dental surgery, it tastes and smells like bubble gum..- the blonde who sits next to him continues in his place. I nod, not completely convinced.

Rossi draws a picture from the file and shows it to me: -And that's why we think the unsub is this guy.- he says with a decisive tone. It doesn’t take long to recognize him.

-Mr. Scratch. Peter Lewis. He was one of the key players in the breakout.- I say aloud. It is certainly not for him that I am willing to move temporarily to Quantico. I want to take that bastard to catch Cullen.

Rossi seems to have read my mind. -Looks like you get to hunt a fugitive after all, just not the one you thought.- it also seems to ask me without saying it explicitly, if I'm still willing to help them, even if the monster we have to chase is not what I wanted. A moment of silence. I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I sigh.

-But I'm bumping on two things.- I start to list. -Number one Peter Lewis should be doing everything he can to stay hidden.- I don’t wait much to do the other And number two If he's going to surface again, why would he copy another guy's style?- that of the Crimson King, who led me to be on this jet now.

-He obviously has some agenda that's not clear to us yet. But we need to consider a more pressing problem. Peter Lewis is a math genius. Which means he plans for every variable.- I hadn’t thought about that. In Dr. Reid's tone there is almost a kind of... admiration is perhaps not the most correct term, but respect, in considering that the enemy is an intelligent person and therefore more dangerous.

- Why is that more pressing? Every serial killer thinks that.- the oldest has the courage to say. But the young man doesn’t intend to surrender.

- Yeah, but most of them operate out of compulsion and he doesn't.

He would stress test all permutations of his plan before reappearing, most likely on other victims.- fantastic perspective, to imagine that outside there are bodies (unless they were devoured by the creatures that populate these areas) of unfortunate people stumbled on one of the many, crazy insane murders that it's around.

- You think we're missing someone.- JJ rightly concludes.

- He wouldn't release Brian unless he knew we couldn't catch him.- it is the final gloss, before the computer screen, positioned so that everyone can have a correct view, it turns on (as well as all the others scattered around 'airplane) and enlighten with the figure of Penelope in the foreground, behind her other electronic devices and various confused as a background.

-Here I am. The paragon of professionalism.- she says. Why do I think that if I had not been here, on the other side of the screen, she would never have said a similar joke, which reminds me so much of the one she exchanged with me, warning me that she kept a low profile here?

- Garcia, have there been any suspicious murders in the Tempe-Phoenix area after Brian?- Rossi asks, ignoring any other question. Her eyes are not seeing us, but thousands of data. I can imagine it.

-Outside of the usual drug and domestic abuse violence, no.- is her response.

-Controll the reports of 911, complaints of people disappears, psychotic episodes, delusions.- lists JJ. The other blonde nods.

-Check 911 records, any missing persons reports, psychotic episodes, delusions.- Rossi adds.

I'm gonna check the prank phone call bin to be sure…- she interrupts the joke. The expression becomes serious and almost frightened. And it is transmitted to everyone present.

-What is it?- Spencer is the first to find the courage to ask.

-I've got a call here about a Jennifer Jareau that caller listed the address as 54321 Rossi Avenue.- fabulous.

-Wow, this guy is really baiting us, isn't he?- anger is painted very clearly on JJ's face.

-Ok, it came from a burner phone, but they left the GPS on. I'm sending you the address now.- I find it admirable that even in such a moment of great confusion, with one of the worst unfortunately again in circulation, which has directly attacked her team, she manages to keep her cool enough to be really professional. That's why all those rumors about her skill and the fact that the CIA didn’t allow her to access their files.

Rossi shakes his head -No, send it to Hotch and Tara. But let them know that Peter Lewis left the breadcrumbs on purpose. They could be walking into a trap.- he warns. The IT nods and the screen turns off.

 Sometime later we land and take a car, we reach the police headquarters. After pleasantries to which they all seem accustomed (except me), we are given a room with a little blackboard, pins, maps and a table with chairs to gather. Everyone reflects on his own, rereading the documents, Spencer scribbling something incomprehensible. When I start to open my mouth and ask for it, Rossi glances at me as if to say to let it go.

Finally, the young doctor decides to externalize his thoughts. -D.I.D. is a difficult disorder to treat, but it's even more difficult for a third party to control. To succeed with this kind of experimentation, he would have had multiple failures. We are seeing that.- he seems to be too expert on topics of this kind. And this makes me think that it can have a much more direct experience than I can imagine seeing him from outside. Not that I think it's him, crazy. But someone close to him must suffer from some kind of mental illness, because the degrees can give you the knowledge, but don’t give that tone so sure. Science is after all empirical.

-Brian survived the torture, and Chelsea's mind snapped from it.- JJ adds after a moment of silence.

I feel like taking the word for the first time. -It begs the question, though... Why didn't Brian go crazy?- it’s that we are all wondering. But we still haven’t found an answer.

TAGS:  @arses21434 @kathy5654 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @thinitta   @garvezz  @shyladystudentfan @cosmicmelaninflower @kiki-krakatoa  @pegasus-scifichick  @ leftlamphumanfestival @inlovewithgarvaz @thatnerdygirljudy

[violaswimmer]

A Mini Voltron Fic

Just a thought I had for the beginning of season 8, what I wish would happen but probably won’t! Still excited for season 8 which I think is coming out in November?

“Most of the paladins should be recovered in a week.” The doctor said smiling softly. Shiro’s shoulders visibly sagged with relief.

Keith had just been released the day before. He and his mother went with to the grave of his father, the visit long overdue. Shiro suggested waiting to do so, since Keith and the paladins had just been through so much, but Keith insisted. Shiro himself had just been released from the hospital a few days before, though he still felt the exhaustion in his bones.

Hunk, Pidge and Lance were still recovering however. Allura was released having some kind of special meeting regarding the machine that nearly destroyed Voltron. Apparently they had wanted to ask her questions regarding the power source, Shiro volunteered to go with her but she declined, saying that he should take this time to recover himself. But Shiro couldn’t sit still, the loss of Adam was clear in his mind, a regret that was too painful to touch just yet. If he sat still… he’d think on it too much. So instead he opted to keep an eye on the recovering paladins.

The doctor continued.

“There is only one we’re concerned about, Lance, he suffered injuries that were more extensive than the others.” She said quietly, looking at the holopad likely with Lance’s medical records on it. The bright screen reflected across her glasses.

“How so?” Shiro asked, trying to keep his voice level.

The doctor looked up at him quizzically and sighed.

“I suppose no one informed you. Lance was injured previously to the battle with Sendak, when he was attempting to get to the Galra base on Earth.” She said stiffly.

“When his comms went out…” Shiro said quietly.

“Yes. When speaking with Veronica, his sister, she informed us that their vehicle had been attacked, nearly exploded in half and the both of them were thrown from it. She already received treatment for her injuries which were luckily not severe. Their suits taking most of the damage...” The doctor paused, “They were both unconscious for several seconds, Lance woke up first and was immediately thrown into a battle while he waited for the Red Lion to appear, which luckily it did. But these factors in combination with what the paladins suffered afterwards… it will make his recovery a bit more difficult.” The doctor sighed.

“What do you mean?” Shiro asked, the shake in his voice a bit more present than before.

The doctor placed a gentle hand on Shiro’s arm, giving a soft squeeze.

“Luckily, Lance has already told us that we are allowed to speak to you regarding his recovery, so we can go into detail. We are doing everything we can and Lance understands the circumstances completely.” She said softly, letting go before tapping at the holopad.

“This is an image of Lance’s brain, taken while he was at the Garrison after a head injury during a flight simulation. It’s several years old but does give us some insight.” The doctor said, turning the holopad so that Shiro could see the scans more clearly.

The image on the screen showed what appeared to be a healthy brain.

“This is an image taken after he was brought in from his lion.”

The image was different, the brain looking crowded in his skull.

“It’s swollen.” Shiro said, swallowing, his throat felt dry.

The doctor nodded, swiping away the images.

“It’s called Cerebral Edema. We believe that he had a concussion when he was thrown from his vehicle which was exasperated by the ensuing battle and fall to Earth. We caught it in time, gave him some medications to help reduce the swelling but it hasn’t performed as we would have liked. Tomorrow we will be making an incision to remove part of his skull to relieve the pressure. Once the swelling goes down, we’ll perform surgery again to replace the missing piece. He’ll be as good as new after that, with the addition of a new scar but he will be perfectly healthy. But what he needs is time, and likely a little bit longer than the rest of the paladins. Maybe three weeks, maybe less, maybe more. Medicine has come a long way, and the other species of alien that have been coming to Earth have helped us immensely with his recovery. But even then time and rest are the best medicine for the body.” She said.

She continued to flip through the records on the holopad and continued.

“He had other injuries as well that need time to heal, several broken ribs, a fractured elbow, bruising on his lower stomach and some mild internal bleeding. Out of all of the paladins he is the most injured. His family has been informed. The procedure will take place tomorrow afternoon, he should begin to feel much better after it’s done.” The doctor said with a smile.

Shiro’s throat still felt dry.

“Okay... Is it alright if I visit him?” Shiro asked.

“Of course, just keep in mind that he is under some intense drugs, his family has already visited and he seemed semi-coherent, but he might be a bit slow.” The doctor said, “My office is right around the corner if you need anything, Captain Shirogane. Lance will be just fine.” She smiled and turned down the hall, her shoes clacking in the empty hallway.

Shiro swallowed and turned to face Lance’s door, his name written under the room number. He hesitated, was it even right to visit him in a time like this? To be honest Shiro hadn’t spent a lot of time with Lance out of all the other paladins. Plus he isn’t even sure what his clone was like during his absence, since he was stuck in the astral plane and all. Given everything that’s happened, they didn’t really have to catch up or get to know each other better. But he still cared for him. He felt so afraid when he when Lance hadn’t been responding, he never wanted anything to happen to him or the other paladins… ever. He was too young, they all were.

Shiro stepped in the room, door sliding closed behind him. Lance was on the bed, tubes strapped to his arm making him look very small. He wore a hospital gown, Shiro saw a hint of bandages under his collar, another wrapped around one of his elbows. Currently Lance wasn’t looking at him, looking instead out of the window. But hearing the sound of the door he turned his head slowly.

Maybe Shiro hadn’t noticed it before, but Lance had dark circles under his eyes. His blue eyes unfocused.

“Hey.” Shiro said gently, walking over to the bed, taking a seat next to it.

“Hey, Shiro.” Lance said, his voice sounding far off.

“How you feeling kiddo?” Shiro asked, placing his hands on the bed.

“Hmmmm... Okay I guess.” Lance said, looking at the ceiling, “The doctors said that I’m getting surgery tomorrow, and that I’ll feel better after that.” Lance said quietly.

“Yeah that’s right, you hit your head pretty hard. The surgery will help your brain stop swelling.” Shiro confirmed.

“Cerebral Edema. Yeah.” Lance said, “I’m a bit nervous though. I’ve never had surgery before.” Lance said, frowning.

For the first time Shiro thought he saw the true Lance, his walls temporarily down because of the drugs. The 17 year old who has experience far more than he should. He should be dating and finishing school, pursuing his dreams and making dumb mistakes. He shouldn’t be in a hospital bed, worrying about the fate of the universe.

If Lance had been more coherent, Shiro is sure he would be laughing it off, telling Shiro that he’d have a cool scar on his head, making him the third paladin to get a scar (after Shiro and Keith) and that everything would be fine. He’d smile away any concern and gush to Shiro about how cool the Atlas was, mindlessly soothing away any of Shiro’s fears and at the same time drawing attention away from himself.

“Hey,” Shiro said, lightly holding Lance’s hand, the one covered in tubes, making sure not to disturb them, “It���ll be okay, these doctors are some of the best at the Garrison.” Shiro said quietly.

Lance nodded, “I know, still nervous though.” A thought seemed to come to his mind and he looked at Shiro intently, “You’re okay right? Do you have family coming to visit you?” Lance asked concerned.

Shiro smiled, how very like Lance.

“I’m okay, exhausted but okay. My family was located yesterday, they’re being flown here. They should be here tomorrow.” Shiro said.

Lance smiled, “Good. You deserve to be happy.” Lance said quietly.

Shiro stared, such a simple statement and yet it felt profound, Lance saying it like it was a fact. Some tears came to Shiro’s eyes. At some point Lance’s fingers had grasped Shiro’s instead of the other way around, not tightly and just barely, but Lance squeezed.

“I know about Adam. I’m sorry.” Lance said, looking at the ceiling still as if knowing that Shiro needed some privacy.

It took a moment for Shiro to say anything.

“How?” Shiro’s voice came out choked, and he noticed tears already streaming down his face. He hated crying.

Lance shrugged.

“You were my hero, I knew a lot about you. I admired you, not only were you one of the youngest pilots to come out of the Garrison but a high ranking, openly gay officer? That was incredibly brave. Not a lot of people knew that you and Adam were together but, Adam was one of my instructors, he taught me a lot, he mentioned you off hand once… he looked very happy. I guess I sort of put two and two together.” Lance stated, “I don’t know what happened before you left for Kerberos. I don’t know what it feels like to lose someone that close to you, so I can’t say I know what you’re going through. But know that you have a lot of people who love you, and care for you. You shouldn’t feel guilty. I didn’t know Adam well... but I think he wouldn’t want you to grieve too long, I think he’d want you to be happy, Shiro.” Lance said quietly. “It’s not your fault.” He whispered.

Shiro was now bent over their clasped hands, Lance squeezing his fingers gently. Shiro’s eyes full of tears that kept streaming down his face, low sobs escaping from his mouth before he could stop them. Lance’s fingers squeezing a steady rhythm into his palm.

“It may take awhile… but I believe you can… you deserve to be happy.” Lance said, and as Shiro looked up he met Lance’s unfocused gaze who smiled gently at him looking tired and worn.

The rest of his visit felt a lot like a therapy session. But eventually Shiro stopped crying, Lance fell into peaceful sleep and Shiro left, his chest feeling a bit lighter than before.

“Cerebral Edema?” Hunk asked, his voice shaking a little bit.

Hunk, Pidge, Shiro and Keith were gathered in Hunk’s room. Pidge being wheeled into it, even though she insisted it wasn’t necessary. Hunk’s room was right next to her’s but nevertheless she was forcibly dropped off by Matt who instructed Shiro to keep an eye on her.

Shiro nodded, “They’re performing surgery tomorrow, to relieve the pressure, part of his skull will be removed and the swelling will eventually go down and then they can put it back. The doctor’s are confident of his recovery, it’ll just take him a bit longer to heal.” Shiro said quietly.

Hunk nodded but seemed to swallow thickly, small tears on the edges of his eyes. Pidge had turned pale in her wheelchair, looking very young. Keith was crossarmed in the corner, mouth in a thin line, staring at the floor.

“How did it happen?” Keith asked quietly. Everyone in the room looking at Shiro.

“The doctors believe that he had a concussion from when we lost communication with him. Apparently according to Veronica, the two of them were attacked on the way to the base and thrown from their vehicle, they both fell unconscious. The doctors believe that his concussion became worse when the lions fell back to Earth.” Shiro said, “I didn’t tell any of you this before, I didn’t want to scare you... but Lance was the only one who was unresponsive when we pulled him from his lion. The rest of you we a bit out of it but you were conscious.” Shiro sighed.

Keith nodded gravely.

“How is he now?” Pidge asked, her fingers turn white against her chair.

“He’s on some pretty heavy drugs, to keep down the swelling, so he’s a bit out of it. But we talked for a bit before he fell asleep, he was pretty coherent. A little nervous about his surgery which is understandable.” Shiro said.

Obviously he didn’t mention how he had sobbed into Lance’s hands just hours before.

Keith stood.

“I think I’ll go sit with him for awhile.” He stated.

“Wait! I’m coming too!” Hunk said, making to sit up.

“Same.” Pidge said, getting ready to wheel her way out.

“Woah. You two need to rest.” Shiro said gently.

Both Hunk and Pidge made to protest before Shiro cut them off.

“No buts. Rest today so you can be a bit better tomorrow, Lance is going to need both of you after his surgery, alright?” Shiro said, putting a soft hand on Pidge’s shoulder.

The two of them considered and grudgingly agreed, Shiro escorting Pidge back to her room. Keith made his way to Lance’s room, but paused outside the door. Shiro noticed, and put a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asked quietly.

Keith sighed, “Not really sure Lance will want to see me.” He admitted, hand inches away from the door. “I’ve been such a jerk to him lately, and we haven’t really had the time to fix it.” Keith said.

Shiro sighed, “This is a pretty good way to start. Plus I’m sure Lance doesn’t see it that way.” Shiro said.

“But how do you know?” Keith asked quietly, turning to look at him.

“Cause Lance isn’t that kind of guy.” Shiro said with a soft smile.

It took Keith a moment to smile back, but he did. His hand pressed on the door and it opened with a small swish.

Lance was still in the same position as he was before and appeared to still be asleep. Keith hesitated before walking into the room, walking quietly to the chair that Shiro had occupied just hours before. Keith took in Lance, his eyebrows crinkling in concern as he sat down, placing his clasped hands on the bed. He looked at the monitors, and the IVs his face stern.

Shiro took another chair and sat it next to Keith, the noise despite Shiro’s best efforts to make it quiet, seemed to wake Lance who stirred.

“Hey.” Keith said gently.

Lance blinked and looked around the room, as if he wasn’t entirely sure where the sound was coming from but eventually his eyes landed on the two of them and he smiled.

“Hey, Keith… Shiro.” Lance said softly, his voice still sounding far off.

“How are you feeling buddy?” Keith said, smiling gently. It honestly surprised Shiro how gentle he was being. But he had forgotten that Keith had matured greatly in the last year. But maturity wasn’t something that happened in a year or even several, it was a constant learning experience. Keith was still a hothead, still let his emotions get the better of him on occasion. But in this moment he seemed softer.

“Everyone keeps asking me that.” Lance said, grumbling, “For the last time I feel okay.” He huffed.

Keith chuckled.

“Sorry, but everyone wants to know how you’re doing, we’re all worried about you man.” Keith said genuinely.

Lance huffed out a breath and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

“Well you shouldn’t be, I’m fine. These drugs they gave me kept me from any pain so I feel like I’m floating, also I’m a little dizzy, but someone told me that was normal.” Lance said, “Plus let’s be real no one is worrying about me, you guys should be worrying about yourselves or your families or whatever… I’m fine.” Lance said, the last part coming out in a hurt and grumpy tone, Lance practically pouting as he said it.

Keith looked at Shiro with eyes a bit wider than before and then looked back at Lance, looking concerned, his eyebrows crinkled together.

“Of course we worry about you Lance, why would you think otherwise?” Keith asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” Lance shrugged, seeming equally confused, eyebrows knitting together, “I just do okay? I’ve been lonely… the past few months, since you left with the Blade. It sucked.” Lance said, pouting even more, some small tears at the corner of his eye. He looked away from the two of them quickly, but the action seemed to make him dizzy and he closed his eyes causing the tears to slide down his cheek. He opted instead to stare out the window, seeming to ignore them.

Keith and Shiro didn’t interrupt, but Shiro felt his own stomach sink through the floor.

“I mean Hunk and Pidge are closer than ever. Whenever I hangout with them they’re always talking about stuff that goes way over my head. Making fun of me, you know, whatever… and Allura and I have become closer but… I don’t know, I’ve gotten over the fact that she doesn’t like me, which is fine but now she’s said some really nice things to me and now I’m... confused. Keith I missed you so much, we were really becoming friends and then you just… left like that. And Shiro, well that wasn’t really you was it? But you were an absolute jerk to me like all the time. Like I know it wasn’t you but he had your face so it’s kind of hard to... I had no one to talk to. It’s been… rough.” Lance sighed, closing his eyes, the conversation seeming to drain him, “I mean, I feel a bit better cause I have my family but I… still feel pretty lonely. Like I’m always gonna on the outside or something.” Lance trailed off, seeming to close himself off as if he thought he may have said too much.

Keith and Shiro looked at Lance in utter shock and silence blossomed between them for several moments.

“When did you start feeling this way?” Shiro asked quietly.

Lance shook his head, more tears falling down his face.

“Since the beginning? I don’t know! But it got worse once Keith left…” Lance said his voice quivering, “Ugh. this is so stupid, stupid drugs, stupid head injury. I’m the dumb one after all, I shouldn’t have said anything! Forget it. It’s the drugs talking forget I said anything!” Lance said, roughly wiping his eyes with the hand that was not strapped with IVs.

Something seemed to dawn on Keith, because he grabbed Lance’s hand from his face and held firm.

“You’re not dumb. You’re smart and talented, that space guy was the dumb one for not seeing all the stuff you can do. I’m sorry I’ve been such a complete jerk to you. When you said that stuff about me being the future, I was caught completely off guard and I just said the first this to come out of my mouth. It was stupid and I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you.” Keith said sincerely, Lance sniffling and his eyes red, but he looked at Keith.

“That’s no excuse though. I need to be better, I’m sorry. You’re my family, Lance. I’m sorry, I know I messed up but I’m a bit new… at the whole family thing.” Keith said.

Somehow most of this conversation was going over Shiro’s head, but a small chuckle came from Lance, it was a little wet with tears but the smile was genuine.

“Yeah, you’re not really good at this.” Lance said weakly.

Keith smiled, “I know.”

“I’m a bit scared for my surgery tomorrow.” Lance admitted quietly.

“I’m sure, it’s scary. But were all going to be there when you wake up, okay? You’re family too.” Keith said, squeezing Lance’s hand.

“My Earth family and my space family.” Lance said.

“Yeah.” Keith agreed.

They talked a bit more, about everything and about nothing. Lance slowly fell asleep exhaustion seemed to take him. His hand cradled in Keith’s and the two of them stayed that way for a long time. Shiro watched Lance as he slowly fell into a deep sleep, his hand on Lance’s knee. For the first time in a long time Shiro felt that everything would be okay.

[blackdragon-sama]

my breast reduction experience

i'm back home from the hospital after my reduction and i'd like to share my experience for those interestedalso to vent a bit about my nice-but-also-hella-annoying bed neighbour.

i went in on thursday morning, to get prepped, see the doc and settle into my room i was given the choice to either stay overnight before the surgery, or come in at 7 on friday morningi chose to stay overnight, since i knew it'd be much easier if i could just stay in bed until they wheeled me in for surgery. rather than having to haul my stuff and myself to the hospital with the bus, high on adrenaline and panicwas the right decision, too early in the morning, a nurse woke me and i went to change into the very sexy piece of fishnet they use as panties and the butt-free gown thingi swear, those mesh panties are the worst.but, i got a dose of lorazepam to make up for it, and was wheeled downstairs and into the wake-up room, from which i was wheeled in for the anaesthesia prep.a very nice lady (i don't know if she was an anaesthesiologist or assistant or nurse....) helped me put on the hair net and put an IV into my hand, chatting a little with me, which helped with the anxiety. at this point i was glad for the lorazepam, because i was nervous as fuck, even with it. they didn't make me count or anything, just told me to breathe in all that nice oxygen, and then they told me when they inected the good stuff and - like with the two general anaesthesias i had before - i went under complaining about the pain XDit's like, the last two seconds before you go under, your face, or in one case, arms, get really bad pins-and-needles, and it's one of the grossest feelings ever, but it's literally just a second or two and then you're out. the first thing i remember after coming to, is people coming to my bed and telling me to take breaths, or to breathe in deeper.i had a little trouble with my oxygen levels for a while, but they put an oxygen tube thingie into my nose, with a piece of sponge around it to keep it in place, i also remember telling someone i was feeling nauseous, and i think they gave me some medication for that. i was in no pain at all, just super woozy and confused why it was already around 3 in the afternoon. surgery must've taken WAY longer than 2-4 hours, since they put me under at 7:30, and i came to enough to ask the time at 3 in the afternoon.back in my room i asked for my phone and sent a few typo-heavy drunk texts to my mom and my girlfriend to let them know i was still alivestill no pain, dizziness, overall "just trying to sleep"-iness. a nurse came in some time later, to help me get up and pee. i didn't think i needed to, but she told me they put five liters of whatever (saline, probably) into me during the surgery and after, and i do know that getting up is important after surgeryso, she hooks me under and butt-naked me (surgical bra and mesh panties only. sexy. comfortable. not basically literally ass-naked) shuffles over to the bathroom, nurse carrying the big drainage bottles.i could feel my ears rushing and hearing static the moment i stood, but i managed to sit down and do the deed. on the way back to the bed, i nearly passed out, but nurse and another nurse got me back safely and i could sleep some moreduring the night, i am woken up a few times, by a male nurse who comes to open my bra and check the bandages and palpate my new tiny tiddies for anything bad.it's a bit disorienting to be subjected to someone messing with your boobs when you're more asleep than anything, but the whole staff was super nice and gentle with me, on saturday, post-op day 1, i managed to somehow pull at my right-side drainage and the bitch gave me trouble for the entirety of its stay in my boob, and it's still the more sensitive side >_>my new boobs looked soooo teeny tiny! to be honest, while i was excited, i was also a little scared that they'd become too small, but that feeling came and went, and looking back, i know it was simply the shock of the /difference/. day one was mostly spent entirely in bed, since my circulation was still pretty bad, and getting up gave me big troublesluckily, the nurses all were very very nice and refilled my water bottle for me and helped me get to the bathroom and back, and iirc, in the afternoon, i managed to put on some real panties and a shirt. MUCH better!also, on saturday, my girlfriend came to visit and it was really nice <3as for pain, i wasn't in any mentionable pain, other than that bitch of a drainage tube. that shit hurt like hell, while my boobs themselves almost didn't hurt at alli was, and still am, quite surprised they weren't painful. (given, i was taking ibuprofen 600 3x a day) sore, of course, and tender, and feeling about ready to pop with how taut they were, but not painful, i didn't and don't feel the incisions or the sutures/stitchesi stopped taking any pain meds yesterday, which was post-op day 5, and i only needed one ibu on tuesday) sleeping on my back is lame. and waking up on sunday, i had a major headache, that even the ibuprofen didn't manage to helpi think it was a mix of my neck being overly tense, plus leftover surgery and anesthesia meds that messed with my head (i read that having migraines puts you at a higher risk of post-op headaches) sunday was the day where i started to get lots better. i could get up on my own for the bathroom, and even the little trip down the hall to the water fountain dispenser thingie, and in the afternoon/early evening, i even managed to take the elevator to the ground floor and grab some well-earned sweets from the little shop there. the headache was the biggest discomfort, other than the drainage tube pulling occasionally, and my petty room mate... boy... by that point she was getting SO annoying. she had had surgery the day before me, a procedure to put an expander under the skin of her face, to grow skin to remove a mark from her face (i don't know what it's called, in german, it's a fire's mark, basically a large, deep red/purple mark that's puffy and you're usually born with it)i think she's russian? she had a heavy accent, and the first pieces of conversations i remember clearly were of her complaining about refugees and how they have so many kids only to cash in on social child support money (which is a thing in germany, but, well, for citizens, not for refugees...) i tried half-heartedly explaining that refugees aren't here for shits and giggles, and no, they don't get child support money from the state. they get, if at all, a bare minimum to feed and clothe themselves.... i didn't want to antagonize her, because in my drugged-up, post-surgery state, i was having paranoia she would try suffocating me in my sleep. (which i was aware of was purely my anxiety talking, but, y'know, i didn't want to pick fights either way, and delicate topics are best discussed if you have the opportunity to leave.)next thing i very clearly remember her doing was antagonizing the nurse that wanted to put a new something into her iv. the thing was, the nurse sneezed. into her shoulder. before moving to continue with the tubes. roomie gives her shit about that. how it's unacceptable that she'd sneeze onto the needle and get her germs all over the place, and how that's unprofessional and why she wasn't getting new needles and all that the nurse calmly explained she wasn't sick, it was just a little sneeze and she didn't get anything onto the stuff. discussions ensue. nurse sents me an "is this really happening?!" look, and i just give a helpless grin-shrug, because, yeah, it was happening. nurse was clearly heavily annoyed, but managed to finish putting the iv thing into her before leaving a little louder than necessary.i can understand voicing your concerns about hygiene and your worries. that's good. not good is picking fights with the people taking care of you. like... i caught myself thinking, every single time lady next to me went to complain or whine about something (which she did... /quite/ a lot) that, if i am in a hospital, dependent on the care of the staff, that the LAST thing i want to do is being a bitch to them?i'll do my damndest to be polite at least, friendly whenever i can, so they know i appreciate the help. being nice to your nurse means your nurse will do their best to care for you, and maybe put in a little more effort than absolutely necessary (like offering to fill my water bottle for me) and if someone has to sit me onto the toilet becauce i can't pee by myself, the least they deserve is me not bitching. seriously, the lady was nice enough, overall, but man... she also was entitled and just that special little snowflake kind of person. complaining about her boyfriend not taking the day off work so he'd be available all day to pick her up whenever she was discharged... i understand the thought behind it, but i also understand you can't just leave work just like that. and she was better off than me, mobility-wise, she could've taken a taxi or even public transport (given, i wouldn't have, either) or just waited for him until he could leave work)aaaaaanyway, on monday, headache was getting better, and my surgeon came in to check up on his work, he finally told me how much he removed, and it was WAY more than i expected or he estimated before,he'd told me, he'd remove about a kilo of tissue per side, which seemed a good weight, (i'd weighted them before, and they were about 2 kilos each, according to my kitchen scale XD )and it ended up being 1,4 kilos per side... that's almost 3 kilos! that's, like, two whole chickens! i was pretty shocked, but also excited, because, for the first time i really understood how HUGE my boobs had been. and how reasonable and right my decision was. i have no regrets and even in between never had any, but i had my doubts about the necessity of this whole thing, a lot of the time, i felt like it was a mood, or a phase, something i wanted out of a whim, rather than that i really needed it. it was my idea, and i wanted it, and as such, as a non-essential surgery, i was scared that i was doing something wrong. that it'd end up turning out bad, simply because of my paranoia-driven fear of karmic punishment for wanting something like that without it being unavoidable (like my gallbladder surgery) but hearing how much he'd removed, and given how much is still left, and how i now have an average pair of breasts for a woman of my stature, it took some guilt off me. also, by monday, i was starting to feel the first effects of the weightloss. i could sit up without using my arms (which was still being a bitch, because it'd pull on the damn drainage), like doing a situp, and it was sooo easy!even right now, i'm still too overall sore/tender to really notice a direct difference, but indirectly, it's already so amazing! i'm sitting up straighter without even noticing, i can breathe freely, which is odd, but i keep noticing how free my chest feels, like i'm expecting it to feel tight or heavy, but it isn't,on monday, the drainage tubes were FINALLY removed and it was glorious!i could stay until tuesday, and it was good i got to stay another day, because walking around was, and is, still somewhat tedious.on wednesday, i had a bit of an emotional crash. i guess it's the physical shock of surgery/injury and the medication wearing off, coupled with the relief of being at home and knowing you can relax now, i was dissociating a little, on and off through the day, feeling weepy and alone and all thatbuuuut that went away, too, and today, post-op day 6, i'm still a little tender and weak, but overall, i'm doing pretty fine!i can wash myself on my own, even my hair, and i am in SO much less pain than i expected. like... i was preparing to be out of commission completely for the entirety of the three weeks vacation i took off of work, but if things continue like this, going back in two and a half weeks will be absolutely possible. i catch myself being a little too enthusiastic sometimes, like trying to reach up to open/close my skylight window and getting a little reminder NOT to stretch up my arms all the way. or having to take a break from walking up the stairs and having to sit a couple minutes in the house's staircase on the way up to my appartment (we don't have an elevator)the most uncomfortable thing right now is the itching. the medical bra rubs against the edge of the steri-strips, where my skin is taut and dry and it's leaving mild imprints and it ITCHES and it's driving me insane, but it doesn't hurt, and it doesn't seem to mess with the stitches, so i'm trying not to complain too hard. all things considered, and with how weak and sore i was, right now, as i'm typing this, i'd do it all over again. i don't want to jinx anything, so i won't jubilate, but overall, i'm pleasantly surprised by how well things have been so far. i like my tiny new boobs, and i hate the itching, i love how much longer my torso looks, and i'm looking forward so much to buying beautiful bras and all the pretty swimwear i couldn't before, because it would never fit my boobs....aah <3next week i'll go in to have my stitches removed (they're not the dissolving kind) and i'm a little worried how the scars will hold, but i'm also eager to start using lotions and all the good stuff to help the skin recover i will recommend this procedure to anyone that's considering it, and i'm so happy that the surgery went well and my new boobs look perfect! (if still a little crinkly around the scars XD )

[laythornmuse]

Where We Begin, Chapter 21

Claire let out a long breath, letting her eyes close as the contraction eased.  Jenny had made Claire listen to several meditation tracks designed for laboring mothers,  something Jenny swore by and insisted Claire practice.  Little had they known that Claire would find herself laboring early and unable to take anything for the pain due to her erratic blood pleasure.  After her water broke,  her labor intensified to a degree that worried even the on-call gynecologist. He frowned at her now, as Claire eyed her blood pressure that continued to climb.  

“This is your first pregnancy?”  

“Yes,” Claire said as she gritted her teeth. “First. Only. Singular.”

“Well, I’m concerned about your blood pressure. You’re nearing pre-eclampsia levels, and with your water broken,  we run too great a risk for infection for both of you.  I think a c-section is our best option to keep you and your daughter safe.”

Claire nodded,  and her brow fell in resignation.  “Will the baby be all right?  She’s so early…”

“The steroids will help her lungs speed up, and beyond that, she looks very sizable for 32 weeks,  over 2 kilograms.  I’m more worried about you, right now Mrs. Fraser.

Claire pressed her lips together as another contraction began.  “Can you call my sister-in-law?”

“I believe your charge nurse already did.  We’ll have to start prepping you now, Mrs. Fraser.”

“I know,” she said softly.  “I just…didn’t think I’d be doing this alone.”

The doctor nodded and gave her hand a quick squeeze.  “I’ll see what we can do.”

***

Janet Fraser was not about to let her only niece be born with only her mother present.  If her brother couldn’t be awake for his daughter’s birth, then by God, that child’s aunt would be.

“Janet,” John croaked. “Wheels!  On the pavement, for Christ sake!”

“Quit sniveling,” Jenny snapped as she turned sharply into the parking garage and slammed her fist against the ticket dispenser several times before the red barrier finally began to rise.  

She sailed into the first open parking spot she saw and launched herself from the driver’s seat before John had his belt unbuckled.

“I take it you’ll be with Claire, then?” John shouted at her and shook his head as he saw her disappear through the maternity ward doors.

The hospital staff had her prepped for surgery within 7 minutes,  and this, the nurse assured her,  was their leisurely pace. Apparently, they were known to get serious cases ready in 3.

As they wheeled her down the hall,  Claire kept her eyes on the beeping monitor beside her and was happy that neither she nor the baby required a 3-minuterang prep. Claire could see the staff was about 30 seconds from wheeling her into the surgery, and a bolt of fear ripped through her.

“Wait!!” Jenny bellowed,  as she ran down the hallway towards Claire’s hospital bed.

“Ah! Another Fraser!” The doctor said through his scrub mask.

Claire burst into tears as Jenny ran into her arms, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.  “Oh, thank God you made it!”

Jenny squeezed her cheek and chuckled as she wiped her own tears with her free hand.  “Of course I made it!  Though,” Jenny mumbled through the scrubs as a nurse helped them over her head,  “I may be buying John’s next set of tires.” 

Claire laughed as they entered Surgery Two,  and she relaxed at the familiar setting.  She watched the medical staff go to work as they lowered her hospital bed, administered her epidural and after ensuring she was properly numb, began erecting the blue divider between her and her incision.

“I admit, I’ve only down this the natural way,” Jenny said softly, as she squeezed Claire’s hand. “How long until we have a baby?”

“Should only be a few minutes,” Claire said as she winced.  

“Do ye feel anything?”

“No,  just…pressure.”  Claire let out a shaky breath as she firmly gripped Jenny’s hand.  

“We’ll get through this, Claire.  I promise.  Just hold onto me, and we’ll get through this together.”

***

As was always the case,  it was left to John to straighten matters when James Fraser threw himself headlong into calamity. Though this time, John worried that his friend of 25 years had damaged himself beyond repair.  John sat beside Jamie’s unconscious form and squeezed his hand between his own.

“You’re going to be so angry,” John stated, a small grin lifting his lips as he pressed them together.  “But I promise you,  they’ll be all right,  both of them.  I’ll see to it.” He brushed his sleeve against his cheeks, and let out a shaky breath before he continued.

“I hope I have to say this to you again,” John began. “No,  I will have to tell you this again.  Damn it, Jamie,  you’ve never listened to me the first time in your entire life, and you better not start now.  So you better bloody make me tell you this again.”

Though he received no response, John nodded stiffly.  “Right.  Good.  You’d ignore me if you were awake as well.” Then John began his report of all that transpired since Harvey’s arrival at the Scottish Antiquities Gala.

When Harvey made bail after his lawyer rushed a motion through a friendly judge,  he first stopped at Geneva’s apartment.

“Why?” John had asked her in the police station earlier that night.  

“To kidnap me,” Geneva whispered before she began her tale.

After seeing Claire on Jamie’s arm at the charity gala,  Geneva reached out to Harvey, a family friend,  to toy with Claire a bit.  

“It’s stupid now, saying it out loud,” Geneva whispered, “But I thought if I could discredit her, Jamie would lose interest, and if not, I’d feel vindicated at least.”

“And you decided to  prostitute students as payment?” John asked.

Geneva paled. “No.  That had nothing to do with Claire,  ever. And it wasn’t prostitution.  Everyone at school knew I had connections to Harvey, and he taught the summer anatomy intensive that everyone wanted to take.  It was damn impossible to get a B in that class, but most couldn’t afford the C’s and D’s they scored.  Some of the girls wanted to turn those C’s into A’s,  and that’s when they asked me for help.”

“Can anyone back up that story?”

“Yes.  My father reached out to their families and the girls are willing to give testimony.  That’s why I’ve been so quiet about all this.”

“So you never arranged meetings with unwilling girls…”

“No, never!  He got angry and threatened to link me to the hospital pharmacy theft. He knew I had a friend there who wrote me a script once…”

“Jesus, Geneva,” John said,  letting his head fall into his hands. “So…he’s angry, and he kidnaps you?  Why?”

She swallowed hard as she pressed forward. “When I opened the door, he rushed me and tackled me to the ground. He said we were both going to pay, and then he pressed something to my face and I passed out.  I  woke up in the trunk of his car.  I worked the rope off my wrists by the time the car stopped, but he never came to check on me.   I waited several minutes after  the driver door slammed and then pulled the release latch on the trunk.  That’s when I recognized Lallybroch,  and realized what he had planned.  I ran into the woods, hoping to find someone who would listen to me.  When I saw Claire duck into the office,  I saw my chance…”

“She got lucky,” John said, as he finished recanting the story to Jamie.  “Turns out, Harvey circled back to his car to get her, and when he found her gone, that’s when he got irate.  He stormed the ground tents looking for Claire but found you instead. And here we are.”

John looked at his friend whose face hadn’t shifted at all throughout the story and sighed.

“Yes, the bastard’s in jail awaiting trial.  No, he won’t be making bail again.  I cleaned up all this, as usual, and here you are sleeping.”  John blew out a ragged breath and began weeping in earnest in the privacy of Jamie’s hospital room...or so he thought.  

“Let me know if yelling at him makes any difference.  Lord knows I’ll be more convincing than you,” Jenny said as she placed a hand on John’s shoulder.

John turned to her and squeezed her hand. “How’s Claire?”

***

His hearing came to him first.  His eyelids were crusted with sleep, and his throat felt dry and cracked,  but his hearing let him know he was not alone.  Claire was humming.

Though it hurt,  Jamie smiled. Claire hummed often when she was completely consumed by something like a medical journal, gardening, or the little burping cloths Jenny taught her to knit.  Claire laughed when he brought her attention to it, but Jamie realized she hummed when she felt content and happy.

He turned his head towards her, but his eyes still refused to open.  He began taking inventory of his body, wiggling his toes and fingers, as the heaviness in his limbs began to lift. He wet his lips and tried to swallow despite the discomfort in his throat.  Christ, he wanted her to come near him.  He was surprised she hadn’t noticed his shifting and movements yet, but then he imagined he’d worried her terribly when he jumped in front of two bullets.

Finally, he forced his eyes open, blinking several times to clear his vision and allow his eyes to adjust to the light…

Her tiny face was pink, but so was the knit cap that covered her ears and the back of her neck.  A yellow blanket hid the rest of her except for an escaped hand that tightly clenched Claire’s breast. He heard a soft suckling noise as bright red lips detached from her mother’s nipple and pressed into a tight pout that nearly stopped his heart.  

“Oh,” he rasped, as his eyes filled with tears.

“Jamie?”  Claire’s head shot up, and she quickly rose to her feet, closing the distance between them.  “Oh, thank God,”  she exclaimed as her face crumbled a moment later.  She leaned down and kissed him fully on the lips, pulling away a moment later and shakily placed the baby on his chest.

“You ridiculous bastard! Don’t you ever do that again! What the hell were you thinking to tackle a man with a gun to the ground…” She scolded as she pressed kisses to his cheeks and forehead.

“The lass, Claire,” Jamie chuckled, through his tears as one hand cupped his daughter’s back and the other wiped Claire’s cheeks. “Is she…”

“She’s a stubborn Fraser, is what she is,” Claire said softly as she unwrapped the baby so she was skin to skin with her father.  Jamie’s fingers traced her chin and nose as she squirmed and kicked her tiny feet against his ribs. Her tongue pulsed in and out of her mouth,  stubbornly searching for a nipple despite her small stomach being warm and full.

“She’s so wee,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to her cap before meeting Claire’s gaze.  “I wasna asleep for a month...”

“No.  You’ve been unconscious since your surgery two days ago, but,  I…” Claire wiped at her nose, as she beamed a soft smile.  “I think she was worried she wouldn’t meet you.”

“Claire,” he whispered, and he squeezed her fingers before interlacing his with hers.  “Is she all right?  

“She’s strong. The doctors were concerned at first with her breathing,  but she’s done remarkably well with some medicine and that little incubator there, and she took to nursing right away…” Claire continued to speak softly,  filling Jamie in on their daughter’s vitals and benchmarks.  She continued until interrupted by the tiniest sneeze that made both parents jump and then chuckle. 

“And you, Claire?  Are ye recovering as well?”

She sat on the side of his hospital bed, and his hand reached out to where she indicated her incision was made.  She pressed his hand gently against her skin. “Jenny made sure of it,  I assure you. She’s been absolutely wonderful.”

“I ken she’ll have some choice words for me as well…”

“I just want to know,” Jenny called from the room’s doorway, “what we can call my niece.  Claire said she wouldn’t name her until ye woke, ye clotheid, and I’ll be damned if i’m waiting another…”

“Ellie,” Jamie whispered, raising his eyes to meet Claire’s.

“That’s what I thought, too.” She whispered. She tugged at the baby’s cap to reveal the brilliant red fuzz already taking root.  Jamie let out a laugh that made his chest rumble and his daughter’s forehead scrunch in annoyance.

Jamie looked up as John and Ian joined Jenny beside his bed.

“I’d like ye all to meet Ellen Elizabeth Fraser.”

[bestofallhans]

Suspiria-singly good

Dario Argento's name has been familiar to me since taking Film Studies at KCL in the early 2000s. However, as a bona fide scaredy cat, I'd never seen anything he'd made until this weekend. The hype around Luca Guadagnino's remake of Suspiria got to me, and knowing I wanted to see the new version, and being a film snob, I couldn't see it without having the original as a reference point.

It's only fair, surely, if someone takes the time to remake a film, to see what they are trying to beat. So at the weekend, Matt and I sat down to the 1977 psychedelic horror classic so we could see the new one with the smug assurance that we could be judgemental from a position of armchair expertise.

The original isn't long, but it's intense. The colour palette, the swinging camera angles, the rapid rack-focus shots so popular in the Seventies and in horror and of course, Goblin's brutalising soundtrack. The whole thing is very convincing in making you feel off kilter and spooked. Normal isn't on the menu.

I'm not going to give too much away, but don't read on if you want to watch either film with uneducated eyes!

There's lot to like in the 1977 version. It's aged well in my opinion, despite sometimes being eye-roll inducing in its treatment of female agency. Objectively, Suzy is a meek and innocent character, and in the 1970s film that is justified as her being 'a good girl' rather than needing any extra narrative padding. In the 2018 remake, Suzy is from a Menonite family in Ohio - innocent isn't enough, she's got to be "clean" of the modern world for us to believe in her (as the film explicitly states).

Setting

Both films are set in the 1970s - and this is a really interesting counterpoint between the films. What was contemporary for Argento is historical for Guadagnino. He does a great job. West Berlin homes and streets are filled with little details that convince us. Fashions are both recognisable and subtle enough to feel like real people would be wearing those clothes (unlike his 2016 film A Bigger Splash, after which I spent many months hankering after Tilda's character's iconic tie back shirt dress. Dior, catwalk collection, unpurchase-able for mere mortals).

Other reviewers have criticised the setting of the new film as heavy-handed and superfluous. I disagree... the backdrop of the Baader-Meinhof standoff and the Cold War give us a sense of foreboding and being watched that I think is useful in the narrative. In fact, I'd suggest that for an Italian film-maker, contemporary Frankfurt feels totally random in the original. Argento clearly isn't concerned with the wider world in his story - I almost feel Frankfurt was chosen because it allowed for outlandish architecture.

Soundtrack

Goblin's original soundrack does 75% of the aural work of making us feel unnerved. The teachers at the Dance School are rude, dominating and conspiratorial, but without that incisive synth theme and the whispered insinuations, you could be left confused rather than unsettled.

Thom Yorke's first foray into film soundtracking isn't anyway near as central to the mood of the new movie. In fact, at points, you find yourself thinking of him instead of allowing the soundtrack to embellish the action on screen. As much as I admire Thom, this is a failure. I shouldn't hear the soundtrack so much as feel it. Anytime I heard Thom's voice I was snapped back out of my suspension of disbelief.

Story

THe new film adapts the original screenplay - and does a great job of making new points without departing from the original storyline. 40 years makes for not that much change for some of the subtler points of Argento's narrative. Silenced women dominate the new plot, with revenge playing a strong role. Suffice to say that you would not want to cause any of these women to chalk one up against you.

In contrast to the original, there's no 'big reveal' that these women are witches. Within 5 minutes of meeting them, we witness telepathic connection, sinister movement in space and conspiratorial glances. Then the hastily departing Olga shouts "Witches!" back into the rehearsal room. No girlish whispers here - these women are in leauge with darkness.

In 1977, manipulation was the chief player - older women twisting pliable young minds just like dance contorted their bodies. The girls were students - learning the art of the older women, who were masterful in dance and control. From the first interactions between Suzy and Miss Tanner, you were made very aware of the power imbalance. Suzy was expected to be compliant and silent. In fact, that is assured by their actions. The girls aren't generally friendly to each other, and Suzy's friendship with Sarah feels more like desperation than connection.

Guadagnino's film is very different on that count - Sara is fiercely defensive of the company - now a professional troupe not a school, and her friendship with Suzy seems equal and freely given. Despite TIlda Swinton's visual intensity, she is kind to her troupe. The other teachers may laugh under their breath, but they are supportive and fun. But make no mistake, the Company is still exacting. Ballet, eh?

Dance actually plays a role on screen in 2018 too - rehearsal spaces, audition rooms, performances and costumes play a central role in the plot. In the 1977 film, they are incidental spaces through which we pass rather than action taking place in them. The characters are dancers by chance, not design. For Guadagnino, this fact is crucial.

A dance film?

So, is Suspiria 2018 a dance film? I think it is. I saw homages to The Red Shoes, Black Swan and the plots of classical ballets. The role of dance is central to the story, it drives the action and has a direct influence on both characters and outcomes. Without dance, the story wouldn't make sense. I don't think that was true of the 1977 film.

Tilda's Madame Blanc makes Suzy practice jumps, with great cinematographic emphasis on her feet. I was reminded of the infamous scene in Black Swan when Nina practices pirouettes in her room until her toenails shatter. The intensity of dance is front and centre. You are on a knife edge as a dancer - any injury could be end of your career, any correction could tip you over the edge mentally. As Madame Blanc says "you have to enpty yourself out, make a space inside for me". Literally, in this case; metaphorically for the dance artist embodying a choreographer's intention.

There are other scenes (that I won't go into detail about, to save spoilers) that make up the majority of the early horror scenes of the film that also allude to the physical manipulation that goes with being a dancer. In fact, despite the lack of adherence to realism from Guadagnino's horror scenes, these were still disturbing enough to have me squirming. And if you've ever seen a German post-modern dance company perform, tell me it hasn't crossed your mind that the maniacal shape-throwing doesn't risk these kinds of injuries?

You're left feeling stretched thin by the tension.

Which witch?

I loved both films - the vintage reel is all psychedelic prog rock and high drama, whilst the modern cut is taut, weird and vengeful.

Both have flaws for sure - it's hard to judge a film made forty years ago, but it has moments of humour that I don't think were intentional. There's a little too much heroineism and not enough grey areas for a mdoern audience, and characterisation is thin, but for a 40 year old budget horror flick, I can forgive these.

This year's version also has moments of humour, but they are almost fourth wall breaking. There's also the fact that in a film with three male actors with speaking roles, one of those is, in fact, played by a woman. I'll leave you to find out the details of that particular in-joke. Oh, and there's a great moment involving poking a policeman's exposed knob. I may be a film snob, but no one is too haughty to laugh at a knob joke.

The new film is, in places, clunky - there's much around the edges of the main plot that foxed me, and not because I missed anything. Most of the dancers never have a line of speech. And, more intrinsically to the overall impression the film leaves, the finale is... questionable. It's more the execution than the storyline, but I found myself looking at the set rather than concentrating on the action.

Go see it. It's a female-led film, about women's collective and individual power, with a strong message about revenge and memory. We need more of those in the world, even if they aren't perfect.