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actress4him · 3 years

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Bonus Whumptober Content Part 2

Original Whumptober fic here

Bonus Content Part 1 here

Find it all on AO3 here

Thanks for all of the support on the last chapter! I appreciate each and every one of the likes and reblogs and follows I’ve gotten.

Tagging @outtacommission again because Keith would not have been resurrected from the dead without his bribery.

Here is chapter 3 of this fic... see you next week for the conclusion!

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: referenced amputation, blood mention, referenced broken bones, self-esteem issues, suicide ideation, death mention, nightmares, abandonment issues

When he woke again, he was lying back down on the pillow, staring up at the blank white ceiling. For one, blissful moment, he didn’t remember the events leading up to him passing out again. But it all came crashing down on him an instant later, taking his breath away.

My leg.

My leg, my leg.

My arm, my face, my leg.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice was quiet, tentative. Not like him. “Are you awake?”

He wanted to roll over on his side and ignore him. Close his eyes, maybe go back to sleep, pretend that the world and this nightmare didn’t exist for a little while longer. The only reason he refrained was because he wasn’t sure if his stupid, wrecked body could actually manage it.

“What did you do to me?” It was only a whisper, and as slurred as it was, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was impossible to understand.

Shiro’s breath hitched audibly. If Keith had been looking at his face, he was sure he wouldn’t like the anguished expression that he would see there. But at that moment, he didn’t have the capacity to care.

“Do you want me to...explain...how it...happened?”

No. Yes. He didn’t know. He needed to know why him losing a leg had been the best option, but at the same time he wasn’t sure if he could handle hearing about it. In the end, he just lifted one shoulder - the one that actually listened and responded right away - in a shrug.

Shiro shifted in his seat, leaning forward so just the tip of his white bangs were in Keith’s periphery. “I already told you that you...died. On that planet. So when we got back to the Castle, you dying again was a distinct possibility. We...it’s like Fallenta said. We had to get you into a pod, even though your...your left arm was broken, and your knees, especially, were a mess from where the console landed on them.”

He paused, rubbing his palms together. “We didn’t know what would happen. I was scared to death that some of those breaks wouldn’t be able to be fixed after the pod. I mean, we were headed to Tellima, but…” His head dropped. “We had no choice. That hole in your stomach...you were dying.”

Keith could almost imagine it - the frantic atmosphere in the infirmary, the blood everywhere, the desperate conversations escalating into shouts as they debated on what to do. He had no doubt that he really had been dying, that they had made the choice they thought was best. He just wasn’t sure if he agreed with that choice.

“When you came out of the pod, once the stomach wound was healed enough for you to be stable, Fallenta started working on re-breaking the bones so that they could be set correctly. It was...awful.” The shudder was obvious in his voice. “I’m glad she was able to do it, of course, but I’m also glad that you were unconscious the whole time. Your arm was relatively easy. Your left knee...it took her hours. It was in so many tiny little pieces. And your right…”

Automatically Keith flinched at the reminder of what was no longer there. Of the scarred, chopped off stump that lay just underneath the blanket, and the way his leg just...ended. He could see the void where the rest of it should have been even now, if he were to look down. He was purposely avoiding it.

Shiro heaved a huge sigh. “Unfortunately, your right knee was shattered in a way that had been blocking the circulation in your lower leg the whole time. The tissue down there was...dead.” He paused again. “Keith, I’ve...trust me, I’ve gone ‘round and ‘round in my head ever since we...trying to figure out if there was something I could have done differently. And...I don’t think there was. We did what we had to do to save your life. I’m just...I’m sorry that we couldn’t save your leg, too.”

His leg was gone.

Would he ever be able to walk again? Could they find a prosthetic for him like Shiro had, that worked as well as the real thing? Even if they did, how long would it take him to get used to walking on it? Just walking, not even counting anything like running, jumping, fighting.

Fighting was what he did. It was the one and only thing besides flying that he was good at. He was crap with a gun, he couldn’t sit up in a sniper’s nest like Lance. He needed to be able to move. If he couldn’t, even just for the time that it took to learn how with a new leg and an arm that only half worked...

They’d replace him. What good was a paladin who was crippled? Who couldn’t pull his weight? As soon as Red woke up and found out what happened to him she would realize that he was useless now. And the Princess, the rest of the team...they already knew it. They were probably already looking for a new Red Paladin. How long would it be until they dropped him off on Earth, or on some Coalition planet? Probably as soon as he was healed enough. They didn’t have time to keep taking care of an invalid, they had a universe to save.

They did. Not him. Not anymore.

“Should’ve left me there.”

There was dead silence for a moment.

“What?”

Keith tipped his head back further into the pillow, eyes roving over the featureless ceiling as if he’d see something new. “I tol’ you not to come. I tol’ you to leave me there. You didn’t listen.”

“And now you’re alive.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Keith…”

His hands fisted in the blanket, jaw clenched in sudden fury. “Don’t ‘Keith’ me. Why, Shiro? Why am I alive? What is the point? You know what all this means.”

It meant he’d be alone. And he couldn’t...he couldn’t do alone. Not again. Not when he found a group of people that he actually cared about for the first time in so long. Not when he was just finally getting used to always having people around, always having someone to talk to or distract him from the thoughts that tried to consume him. Not when he barely survived it the first time.

He’d rather be dead than alone.

Shiro sucked in a deep breath through his nose. “That life is gonna be hard for a while? That you’re gonna have to work harder than ever to get back to where you were? Yeah, Keith, I do know. I know more than anyone else.”

Oh.

Shiro must think he was so incredibly self-centered.

He was self-centered.

He should have thought about how acting like losing a leg was worse than dying would seem to the man who had lost an arm and kept going. But instead he was all caught up in how he was going to lose everything he had grown to love and rely on. Acting like the self-absorbed brat that everyone at the Garrison except Shiro had accused him of being.

“That means I also know how hard it is to accept,” Shiro was saying. “It’s going to take time to adjust. But you will, I promise, and I’ll be here to help you every step of the way.”

Yeah, right. Keith didn’t know if he was lying to make him feel better, or if he just hadn’t yet realized or accepted that Allura and the rest of the team wouldn’t want to keep him around.

“Just...please, Keith. Please don’t say that we should have let you die. You don’t know…” His voice caught. “I’ve spent these last weeks hoping, praying that you would live. Scared out of my mind every moment of every day that you wouldn’t.”

Keith finally forced himself to turn his head toward his brother and saw him brush the back of his wrist across his eyes. Just that movement was enough to make his heart drop to his stomach. Shiro didn’t cry. At least not where anyone could see him.

Slowly, he slid his hand out across the bed, palm up. A peace offering. It took only a moment for Shiro to take it, squeezing it so hard he thought a few more bones might break.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. And he was. Not for thinking it, but for saying it. He didn’t want to cause any more pain for any of his friends.

That’s why when it was time for him to go, he’d do it quietly. No fuss. Don’t let them see your fear or your pain - he had learned that long, long ago. He was good at it.

Shiro gave him a shaky smile. “It’ll be alright, Keith. I promise.”

Swallowing down the words that sprang to his tongue, he gave a nod. “Okay.”

The next morning Keith woke up to an empty room. In a way, it was a relief. They obviously didn’t see the need to watch over him and baby him twenty-four-seven anymore. But he was, for all intents and purposes, stuck. With no leg, he couldn’t just get up and leave the room whenever he wanted, head to the training room like he normally would in the morning. There’d be no training for him for a long time.

Of course there was breakfast to think about, too, and he wasn’t sure whether to expect someone to bring it to him, or to bring him to it. Either way, he hated it. He had always hated being treated like he was helpless, and now it was even worse because he actually was helpless.

He went ahead and made up his mind, though. No matter what their plan was, he had no desire to be carried through the Castle to the dining room where everyone would give him those looks of pity. Poor Keith. Can’t even walk by himself. It’s just too bad he can’t stay.

He was in the midst of pushing himself up off the pillows, trying to get his right side to cooperate long enough to get in an upright position he could balance in and trying to ignore the strange lightness of his leg, when the door opened and Pidge slipped in.

“Hey,” she said softly. Padding over, she perched carefully on the edge of the chair that first Hunk, then Shiro had occupied.

Tucking his left leg up close to him - the knee creaking in protest at being used for the first time since healing - Keith cleared his throat. “Hi.”

Silence fell, but it had never been awkward between the two. The introverted arms of Voltron. Pidge just gazed at him for a long moment, her eyes saying all the things he knew she would never actually be able to say with words. “It’s good to see you awake. I was really worried about you.”

On the outside, she merely shoved her glasses back up into the bridge of her nose and sniffed. “You better not quiznakin’ ever do that again.”

Keith’s lips turned up at the corners for the first time since waking the day before. “Alright.”

Besides Shiro, he thought he would miss Pidge the most of all. They got each other more than anyone else.

“So.” Straightening up, she whipped a tablet out of her hoodie pocket. “We’ve been working on a leg for you. The Tellimites have crazy good medical technology, so obviously we’re using their notes, but I’ve also been talking back and forth with the Olkari, because they’re, of course, crazy good with biological connections, and we’ve come up with a design that should communicate really well with your body and, essentially, work like the real thing.”

She launched into a detailed scientific explanation of how every inch of it worked, tapping and flicking through various diagrams that just looked like a plain prosthetic leg to him. He didn’t understand but a few words here and there, but he let her talk. This was one of her passions, and it was nice to let her be able to ramble about it for once without having to worry about being rushed. The way her face lit up was worth every second.

“So...what do you think?” Suddenly she sounded uncertain as she blinked up at him. “We definitely want your input on it. I mean, I suggested putting in a rocket booster, but Hunk pointed out that it would be difficult to control with only one. Lance wanted to add lasers that shot out anytime you stomped your foot, but that seemed pretty dangerous for like, running and stuff, so…”

It almost sounded like they expected him to still be fighting with this thing. Well, maybe he would. Eventually. After all, he wouldn’t feel right about just ignoring the existence of the war when the people he cared about were still out there fighting it, so he’d do his best to get back into shape. Maybe he could convince them to find a Coalition planet for him that had soldiers he could fight with someday.

It wouldn’t be the same as fighting with this team, his...his friends. But at least he wouldn’t be completely useless.

He met Pidge’s eyes and realized she was still waiting on an answer from him. Part of him wanted to keep his words to a minimum, not wanting her to hear his new speech impediment, but he swallowed his pride. “It, uh...whatever you guys come up with I’m sure will be great.” He actually hadn’t even been sure whether to expect them to work on it themselves, or put it off on the Tellimites or some other able species. It made sense, though, that Pidge and Hunk would want to jump on this opportunity to design something they had never gotten to do before. He forced a small smile. “But...yeah, let’s hold off on weaponizing it.”

Smirking, Pidge turned off the tablet and stuck it back in her pocket. “Alright, if you insist. Lance is gonna be super disappointed, though.”

“I’m sure.” He could hear the whining and complaining about how boring and unimaginative he was now.

“So, I was supposed to ask you about breakfast…?”

Keith stared down at his hands. “Oh. Yeah. I don’...think I’m really ready to...try to move around yet, so…”

He was such a bad liar. But Pidge either didn’t notice or was being nice and pretending not to, merely nodding and standing.

“Okay. I’ll tell Shiro, he’ll probably bring you a plate down here.”

“Thanks, Pidge.”

She turned back from the doorway and smiled softly at him. “No problem.”

The nightmares came that night.

And the next. And the next.

Snippets of things he didn’t remember during the day, and wouldn’t remember again when he woke. Alarms blaring. Lights flashing. A horrifying crunching sound, then crippling pain and a bitter taste in the back of his throat.

And then...nothing. No one came. No one heard him calling. He stayed there, alone and bleeding in the dark, until the pain became too much and he slipped away.

He woke with tears streaming down his cheeks and a scream on his lips that didn’t quite make it out into the still air of the infirmary, not knowing what he was even crying about other than the nauseating loneliness that weighed him down, pinning him to the bed.

Forcing his right hand to be the one to clumsily scrub away the tears - because it was going to work, dang it - he gritted his teeth and pushed against the weight to flop over onto his side.

Get over it. Get over it, get used to it, stop being such a baby. You’ve always known that this wouldn’t last. It’s a miracle they’ve stuck around for as long as they have. If you try to hang onto them they’ll just end up hating you before they leave.

He got away with hiding in the infirmary for two days before Fallenta declared him well enough to be up and about, and Shiro and Allura showed up with the Altean version of crutches. They escorted him slowly down the halls of the Castle to the dining room, chatting amiably the whole way. Keith assumed it was meant to either distract him from his plight, or to keep themselves from staring and pitying.

“Hey, look who finally decided to join us!” Lance announced loudly as soon as he hobbled into the room. “It’s about time you were out of bed, Mullet-head.”

“What Lance means,” Hunk sighed, “is that it’s good to see you up, Keith.”

“That it is, Number Four!” Coran rushed to pull out his usual seat, and his smile was so bright Keith couldn’t even be mad about the special treatment. “You had us all worried for a while there, for sure!”

Swallowing, Keith fiddled with his spork, unsure whether he was supposed to respond. “Um...yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Keith.” Shiro smiled at him softly, knowingly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He just barely kept another ‘sorry’ from escaping. Instead he nodded, picked up his spork with his left hand, and changed the subject. “So, uh...wha’s been going on lately?”

That was all it took for everyone to launch into tales of short missions in the Lions, repairs on Red, and alliances with Tellima. Keith barely remembered to keep eating his goo as he watched all of the animated faces and gesturing hands with a small smile on his face. It was good to be back among his teammates. They were so unlike him in so many ways, it was no wonder that he had never really fit in with them. But he cared about them anyway. They might not feel the same way about him, but he was so glad that they had become a part of his life.

And now they wouldn’t be anymore. Scowling down into his bowl where no one would notice, he poked at the green goo. How did I let myself get so attached? Before Shiro, it had been many, many years since he had let himself care about anyone this much. He should have known better by then. Letting himself come to consider any person or place home was just setting himself up for heartbreak.

As much as he loved spending this last bit of time with them, he almost wished they would stop acting so natural, as if they weren’t getting ready to kick him out any day now. No one mentioned a search for a new paladin. No one said whether they were headed to Earth, or some other planet.

He wasn’t going to be able to stand the suspense for many more days. They needed to just get it over with.

Later that night, after waking from another nightmare back in his own room, Keith stared at the bare walls, so lifeless compared to the other paladin’s rooms. Maybe I was always prepared for this moment, after all. Or maybe he had just been kicked out and left behind so many times that the ability to settle in was impossible for him no matter where he went.

Struggling to sit up, he groped for the crutches and pulled himself to his feet. He wasn’t going to get back to sleep anytime soon, and no one had expressly forbidden him from venturing out on his own - not that it would have stopped him even if they had.

It took far too long to make it down the four hallways between his room and Red’s hangar. Walking with crutches used a whole new set of muscles that he wasn’t used to accessing, and trying to force his right side to carry that much weight was exhausting. He had to stop and lean against the wall, panting for breath, several times along the way.

But he made it, eventually. He paused once more outside the door, debating whether or not he was actually ready to see the damage done to Red, before he sucked it up and punched the scanner.

He wasn’t ready.

The great mechanical beast was lying on her side, a position that somehow managed to make her look vulnerable despite her hulking size. Her legs were splayed awkwardly as if she had just been dropped there. She probably had.

The worst part, though, was that her face was nearly unrecognizable. What had once been her muzzle was completely smashed in, there were spiderweb cracks across one of her dull grey eyes, and the other was missing altogether.

Actually, he took that back. The worst part was the cold and the silence.

No purr in his head to greet him. No eyes lighting up in recognition of her Paladin. No warmth filling up his chest and spreading out to his fingers and toes. With Red, there was always some kind of heat. Now, though, a shiver shook his body.

Clenching his jaw, Keith forced himself a few steps closer, until he could reach out, balancing precariously, and lay a hand against her warped, dented nose. It was cold, too.

Suddenly tears sprang to his eyes for the first time since his panic attack a couple of days before. “‘m sorry, Red.” He stroked his hand over the metal, feeling all of the bumps that shouldn’t have been there. “I’m sorry this happened to you. You didn’t deserve it. You...you’ve always protected me, and…”

Tipping his head back, he took in the mess of a cockpit again, and this time he saw flashes of his nightmare. Something sharp pinning him to the chair. Blood dripping onto the floor.

One tear escaped, sliding rapidly down to his chin. “I don’t even know how I survived this. But if either of us deserved to survive, it’s you. Please, Red...if you can hear me at all...please don’t give up. I know I...I can’t fly you anymore, but…”

It hit him then, the brutal truth of that statement. He’d never fly her again. He might never fly anything again. He’d known it ever since finding out what had happened to him, but now it stabbed him through the heart, how much he was going to miss this semi-sentient alien ship.

Before he knew it, he was falling none-too-gracefully to the floor, one hand planted in front of him while the other remained on her snout, crutches clattering loudly to the side. The tears came in earnest, then. “Red...Red I lost my leg. I...I can’t fight anymore, I can’t fly…I’m useless.”

He’d told her that before. That time, though, she had reassured him that no, he was her Paladin, he was a defender of the universe, not useless. Never useless.

But now there was no one to reassure him. Even if she had been able, Red would know the truth. He wasn’t her Paladin anymore, he wasn’t a defender of the universe. He was useless.

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cutieodonoghue · 3 years

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the edge of hope (6/9)

summary: canon divergent au; when Din left Sorgan to protect the Child, he left the woman he’d fallen in love with, not knowing he’d also left behind something else. Or, Omera and Winta join Mando and Grogu on their season 2 adventures. Mandomera!

Catch up here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Sixth chapter below the cut or on AO3!

The Jedi

The journey to Corvus took a while, which meant there was enough time for the crew aboard the Razor Crest to spend time together in the hold of the ship.

While Winta and the Child played together on the floor, giggling loud enough that it could be heard from the cockpit, Omera spent her time working on a sewing project for the baby. It would be a pair of socks, eventually, mended together with fabric she’d brought along from the village.

Din had decided to stay up above by himself. She had to wonder if it was because he was upset about having to say goodbye to his boy once they found a Jedi. Hopefully, they wouldn’t find themselves following yet another clue to find the Jedi that Bo-Katan had vouched for.

As Omera sewed together the small sock for her unborn child, she couldn’t ignore the guilt that sat within her. She should’ve told Din when she had the opportunity. She should’ve found the words, as hard as they would’ve come. But instead, she’d allowed herself to get caught up in it all over again.

There was no such thing as perfect timing. She knew that now. The children would always be a priority in their travels, and so would the mission at hand.

As if he knew she was thinking of him, the Mandalorian dropped down from the upper level, landing with a thud that startled the children. They each turned to look at him for a moment, and when he had nothing to say, they returned to what they were doing.

He came to stand near Omera, though he didn’t come as close as he usually did. She sat within the opened sleeping nook, on the edge so that she could watch the children play.

“Are we getting close?”

Din turned his attention onto her, looking away from the kids. “Still a while to go.”

Omera nodded in understanding.

She watched Winta roll a ball across the floor, gesturing for the Child to go grab it for himself. He seemed less interested in play time, instead flopping down to sit. Winta did the same.

“When we were on Nevarro…” Din spoke carefully, just low enough that it was only for her to hear. Omera looked up at him patiently. “Cara and Greef said some things…”

She couldn’t help but smile. “They implied some things…”

He nodded. “I… just want you to know that I would’ve gone back to Sorgan. Even if you hadn’t come with us. You’re… important. To me.”

Her heart fluttered. She knew he wanted them to be together, that he may have even had feelings for her that were strong, but to hear him say so aloud felt like a gift.

“I would’ve been there waiting.”

The Mandalorian was quiet while his focus changed, shifting instead to his toddling boy with a happy grin on his face. At his side, Winta had discovered the Mandalorian armor that Cobb Vanth had worn on Tatooine. She slid the helmet over her head and giggled. Then, she pulled it off and showed it to the Child.

It surprised her a little that Din didn’t chastise the children for playing with it. He’d felt so strongly about protecting the armor and bringing it back to his people.

“Before him, I provided for my people on Nevarro. The covert is gone now. Scattered. After we find his kind, I won’t have a path I’m sworn to.”

Din folded his arms against his chest and turned his attention onto her again.

“I thought… maybe my next path would reveal itself to me on this journey. Maybe I’d find the members of my covert who scattered. But instead, we’ve just run around in circles, and Gideon’s back.”

She’d felt so excited at the idea of being together when this mission was over that she hadn’t considered what Din wanted to do next. Her only concern had been the relief of knowing he wanted to be together.

Would he still want that when he learned of their child? And what about his future? Was it fair to him to stay together somewhere, raising a family, when he could help so many with his skills and talents?

Her stomach flipped and she averted her gaze, looking at the baby sock in her hand.

“Well, maybe your next steps will be revealed to you soon,” Omera told the Mandalorian. She refused to look at him, feeling too ashamed of herself.

Din was silent for a few seconds. “Maybe.”

Before Omera had the chance to say anything, to offer him hope, he walked away, retreating back toward the cockpit again. She shut her eyes, sighing softly through her nose.

How could they ever be together? It felt like a dream that would never be realized, so distant that it felt foolish to continue running after it.

At her feet, she felt the sudden warm embrace of small hands around her calf. Looking down, she saw the Child, whose smile was gentle and innocent.

“Hi, little one.”

Omera leaned down to pull him up into her lap. With her arm around his belly, he wrapped his fingers around hers.

“What do you think?” She held up the sock. “It’s not finished yet… but I think it will work.”

The Child tilted his head and cooed. He reached out with one hand to take it and she laughed.

“It isn’t for you.” Omera kissed the top of his head before whispering, “It’s for your little brother or sister.”

The Child’s smile spread happily. Her heart felt warm. She could only imagine what it would feel like to finally tell Din.

“Din.” Winta sighed his name heavily from her seat behind him. “I miss home.”

They had been on their way to Corvus for a considerable length of time, so Winta’s complaint wasn’t without its reason, but it still hurt to hear. They were a traveling crew, one he was quite fond of. Winta in particular was just one way this journey had become so much brighter, in more ways than one.

Omera had excused herself to use the privy a few minutes ago and still hadn’t returned, so Din knew he had no choice but to turn and answer the angst-ridden child.

“I know you’re uncomfortable. I think we’re all getting a little cabin fever.”

Winta threw her head back and huffed a dramatic sigh. “I wish we could just be there already.”

Din sighed. He took a peek out the window of the cockpit and pointed to the nearby planet.

“Look. That’s Corvus. If you can just sit tight for a few more minutes, we’ll start the landing cycle, and we’ll be back on solid ground soon enough.”

The door to the cockpit opened and Omera entered. She sat without saying anything, but he still glanced back at her anyway.

The journey had been unintentionally tense between them for no other reason than his knowing that she had something to tell him, and her insistence that she wait until they finally found the Jedi.

If she wanted to tell him her feelings, he had an inclination that he knew what they were already. At least, he hoped he knew. After everything that they’d shared, everything spoken and unspoken, the direction she seemed to lean was in the very same direction he did.

It was hard to admit it to himself, after a lifetime of perfecting a tough outer shell. The feeling had only intensified with her closeness to him these past few weeks.

Din was in love, and it wasn’t just with Omera. He’d fallen for Winta too, the adorable girl with dimples and a penchant for making up songs.

They would be together, once this journey was finished, and it made his chest tight with longing each time the thought came to his mind, even if it terrified him. He didn’t know what it would look like, or how they would make it work. They’d figure it out. They’d have to.

“We’re almost there,” Din told Omera. He looked at the Child, seated on the console to his right. “You better get back in your seat, kid.”

The Child cooed, but didn’t move. For a second, he looked at the ball tightened on the lever - his favorite toy to hold.

“Hey,” Din said, trying to force his attention back on him. “What did I tell you? Back in your seat.”

After one more coo, the Child finally used his feet to move, climbing up onto Omera’s lap with a little contented sigh from the boy.

With the Empire likely on their tail and the Jedi not too far ahead, Din had to wonder what would come next. Would Moff Gideon lay off if the Child was returned to his kind? Would the Jedi even want to take him?

It was enough to keep Din’s mind busy considering every possible outcome of this stop on Corvus- a place, they soon discovered, that had been devastated by something, or someone. Trees sat dying on the barren forest floors, and a sleepy town sat behind tall brick walls.

It seemed desolate and empty. Why would a Jedi come here?

After settling the Razor Crest onto the ground near the town with tall brick walls, Din turned to his crew in the cockpit.

“Well, Corvus awaits.”

Winta slouched off of her chair, the earlier angst having melted into some sort of fresh tiredness mixed with it. Omera shook her head at the girl.

“You’ll feel better once we get outside,” Omera said as she ushered her child up out of her chair. “Let’s go.”

As they stepped off of the Crest, Din focused on the world around them. It was quiet. A few creatures moaned in the distance, but the land seemed peaceful. Although, the dead trees standing all around the ship seemed to be a bad omen for things to come.

Behind him, the Child sat down on the ramp. Din turned, frowning when he saw that he’d pulled the ball off of the lever.

“What did I say about that?” He leaned down, scooping the Child into his arms. He pulled the ball away from him. “This needs to stay in the ship.”

“Mama, what happened to this land? It’s so… sad.”

Omera shook her head. “I don’t know. It certainly hasn't been cared for, has it?”

“No.”

Din approached the pair who stood just ahead of him.

“Let’s head into town. See if we can pick up a lead. I’ve never had dealings with a Jedi before, so… not sure where to start.”

“That seems as good a place as any to try,” Omera agreed.

The walls of the town were higher than they’d seemed before, towering high above them as they approached the main gate. A handful of officers stood watch above them. Thoughtfully, he hid the Child within the fabric sling at his side in an attempt at keeping his identity secure.

After a short inquiry by the gate officers, they were permitted to enter through the gates, and once they stepped inside, Din knew right away that this mission was about to be difficult. Very few of the people within the gates seemed eager to linger, much less look in their direction.

“Pardon me, vendor, have you heard of anyone…”

The vendor turned away from him, heading away from her goods and inside the building just behind her. Frowning, Din sighed. He looked at Omera, who lingered behind him. She stared into an alleyway, at an older man who tended to two children.

“Excuse me,” Omera kept her voice low and kind. “Can you help us?”

The older man shooed the children away and then approached them. “Please, do not speak to them, or to any of us.”

Frowning, Omera shook her head. “We just need help finding someone. Please-”

Before she could make any headway with the villager, a pair of fully armed and threatening guards approached them and addressed him directly.

“The Magistrate wants to see you.”

He met Omera’s gaze. She instantly held Winta closer. With a nod toward the guards, he allowed them to guide them toward their Magistrate.

“Stay close.”

Omera nodded silently.

They were led toward another large gate within the town: a strange centerpiece to an already strange place.

Worried, he kept Omera and Winta in his sights at his side. He was always committed to protecting them, but with the hope of staying together once this journey was finished, he felt extra protective.

As they approached the second gate, Omera protected her daughter from the sight of three prisoners being tortured for all to see. He tried to shield Winta from it as well and stepped in front of her strategically.

“Help us.” He was electrocuted for his words and released a scream so bloodcurdling that Din couldn’t help but feel contempt for the one who was doing this to them.

Beyond the gates, there was a calm and peaceful garden. A bridge covered a pond full of fish, and that’s where the Magistrate stood, feeding her pets while three lives were tortured to the brink of death just feet away.

He led his crew just beyond the gates and stopped.

“Come forward.” It was clear to him that this woman was the cause of the troubles of this town. While she lived in comfort, her people were tightly controlled and fearful for their lives. Even still, he stepped toward her with Omera and Winta just behind him. “You are a Mandalorian?”

“Yes.”

“I have a proposition that may interest you.”

Din held his head high, glancing out of the corner of his vision at Omera. She held Winta close, protecting her even though they’d already seen the worst that this town had to offer.

“My price is high.”

The Magistrate took a few steps toward him. “A Jedi plagues me. I want you to kill her.”

He felt the Child stir a little at his side and was reminded of his true purpose for being on this planet. He needed to find the Jedi, not kill her.

“That’s a difficult task.”

The Magistrate offered a small smile. “One that you are well-suited for. The Jedi are the ancient enemy of Mandalore.”

“As I said, my price is high.”

He was unwilling to pledge that he’d kill one of the Child’s kind. It was wrong to even consider such a thing, but he didn’t want to put their lives in danger by denying the Magistrate’s offer. It seemed to him that she might know where the Jedi was, and that was all he needed.

The Magistrate quietly summoned a guard droid forward, one holding a spear in hand.

“What do you make of this?”

The Magistrate spun the dull end of the spear toward him and then held it outward in both hands as an offering. Carefully, he stepped toward her to take it. When he took it into his hands, he studied it carefully. It seemed like beskar in feel, and when he tested it against his arm gauntlet, he was proven right. Rang out clean.

“Beskar.”

“Pure beskar… like your armor. Kill the Jedi and it’s yours.”

“Where do I find this Jedi?”

Walking around on a dying, unfamiliar planet with two children was not his brightest idea, especially considering the risks surrounding them, but they really had no choice. If they wanted to find the Jedi, they needed to keep moving.

Omera walked at his side while Winta ran ahead. She used the angst she’d built up on the ship in the quickness of her strides. It was only the smallest step above the complaining she’d done when they began the walk in terms of anxiety-inducing behaviors.

“Winta!” Omera called after her. “Winta, you can’t keep running ahead.”

Winta stopped, throwing her head back to groan. “Mama…”

“This is a planet none of us know,” Omera scolded. “We don’t know what’s out there. We can’t protect you if you get too far ahead.”

An idea came to him when he heard the Child make a noise. He gestured for Winta. “Come here. You can hold the Child.”

Winta came back toward them and waited patiently for him to grab the boy from the sling at his side. When he settled him into Winta’s arms, the Child cooed happily.

“There,” Din said, nodding toward them. “We’re getting close to the coordinates. We stay together. Understood?”

Winta nodded. “Yes, Din.”

He looked at Omera, whose usual brightness seemed to have dampened. “Okay?”

She took a breath of the thick Corvus air and smiled slightly. “I think all of the adventure is finally catching up with me. Traveling with two young ones isn’t easy, is it?”

Din shook his head. “No, but at least we’re together.”

Her expression softened a little and she nodded her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just overwhelmed thinking about what will happen when we find the Jedi. Will he go with them? Will he be okay with the Empire after him? Will we?”

They were all questions that had been plaguing him since learning of Gideon’s survival on Nevarro. It was comforting to know he had Omera to lean on as she worried about the same uncertainties.

Sighing, Din stared at the Child in Winta’s arms. “I don’t know.”

A twig snapped behind them and Din turned quickly, pulling his blaster from his side as he moved. Ahead of him, an unfamiliar figure stood with a pair of light sticks in her hands. She wore a soft smile on her lips and a quirk in her brow.

“Aren’t bounty hunters supposed to travel lightly?”

Din narrowed his eyes slightly. “Are you Ahsoka Tano?” The woman said nothing indicating if she was or not, so he held hope that she was. “Bo-Katan sent me. We need to talk.”

Pleasantly, she stepped closer to them. For a moment, he thought about how he’d attack should she decide to try something, but she saw past him and Omera, her gaze settling on the Child in Winta’s arms instead.

“I hope it’s about him.”

The Jedi sat opposite the Child, both planted firmly on fallen trees, for hours. The light of the day gave easily to night, and Din was unable to stay in one place for longer than a second.

He paced around in wandering circles, waiting helplessly as Ahsoka seemed to commune with the Child in silence.

He knew nothing of how the Jedi worked, or if talking silently was how the Child was meant to communicate, but he found some comfort in the way Ahsoka Tano carried herself. She would have answers for him.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Omera held a snoozing Winta in her arms. Her nervous gaze was set only on him every time he even cast a glance in her direction. His stomach flipped at the contact and his heart clenched warmly within his chest.

He found comfort in the fact that he wasn’t in this alone. They’d found the Jedi together.

From their perch just ahead of him, Ahsoka nodded at the Child, whose arms were held out as if he wished to be carried. She scooped him into her arms and grabbed her lantern, then slowly made her way towards him.

Feeling nothing short of anxious, Din met her halfway. The Jedi settled the Child upon a rock and sat next to him. The kid babbled at her and she smiled fondly.

“Is he speaking?” Din asked. “Do you understand him?”

“In a way,” Ahsoka replied, meeting his gaze. “Grogu and I can feel each other’s thoughts.”

“Grogu?” Din asked. It earned him an excited chirp from the Child as he craned his head to the side to look up at him.

“Yes.” Din stared at the Child. The Child stared back. Something had changed in the kid. Maybe it was because he was understood by someone. “That’s his name.”

“Grogu.”

This time, the Child’s eyes were wider and his ears perked up. There was a happy look on his face accompanying the noise he made. It must’ve been true: his name was Grogu.

“He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Many Masters trained him over the years. At the end of the Clone Wars when the Empire rose to power, he was hidden.” As Ahsoka spoke, Din sat on a fallen tree stump opposite the Jedi to listen to her story. “Someone took him from the Temple. Then his memory becomes… dark. He seemed lost. Alone.”

She paused and looked thoughtfully at the kid- Grogu. He seemed tired. His eyes squinted and his head fell. His ears flopped around as he tried to keep awake. “I’ve only known one other being like this. A wise Jedi Master named Yoda.”

As if affirming her words, Grogu made a noise. Din wasn’t sure what to think, but he appreciated learning about his history. As tragic as it sounded, he could relate to it. They were both foundlings. They had both been lost.

“Can he still wield the Force?” she asked.

Din shook his head. The word meant absolutely nothing to him. “You mean his powers?”

“The Force is what gives him his powers. It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

He thought back over every extraordinary thing, big and small, that he’d seen the kid do. There was so much power inside of him that Din could never explain or make peace with. The Mudhorn. Healing Karga. What he did on Nevarro with the fire. Moving things… choking people.

“I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain.” On the rock to his left, Grogu had closed his eyes, tired, and sighed as sleep overwhelmed him. “My task was to bring him to a Jedi.”

Sorrowfully, Ahsoka’s gaze fell dark. She frowned. “The Jedi Order fell a long time ago.”

It seemed like she didn’t want to help him. She had to know the dangers that the kid faced. He was special and wanted because of it.

“So did the Empire, yet it still hunts him. He needs your help.”

The Jedi contemplated this. He could tell that it wasn't something she took lightly. On either side of Grogu's path, there was the threat of the Empire.

“Let him sleep,” the Jedi said. “I’ll test him in the morning.”

Gently, she stood up, but she didn't walk away. Din followed her action and lifted the Child into his arms, cradling him as he typically did. Glancing past him, Ahsoka stared at Omera and Winta, not for the first time since their meeting. She looked back again.

“Grogu is attached to all of you,” she shared. She kept her voice low on behalf of the kid. “He told me she was special to you, too.”

Din smiled to himself, unable to help it. “Her name is Omera. She is… very special to me, yes.”

Ahsoka smiled amiably at his words. “It worries me- how attached Grogu is. It will make it difficult to train him.” Pausing, she took a half step backward. “But we’ll see how he is in the morning.”

“Right.”

He looked down at the boy sleeping in his arms for only a moment, but when he looked back up again, the Jedi had disappeared.

On a sigh, he made his way over to Omera. She was still awake where she rested, waiting for him to share what he’d learned from the Jedi. He sat down with his back pressed to the same tree. Their shoulders pressed together, but he couldn’t see her.

“What did she say?” Omera asked quietly.

Din’s chest ached as he lowered his hand to the Child’s belly.

Finally, he knew who this special child was, and it would only be a matter of time before they were no longer together. Ahsoka would undoubtedly see potential in Grogu and want to train him. It was something he hadn’t thought about, not wanting to deal with the realization that he had grown so attached to the kid.

Now that the time had finally come, the reality weighed heavy in his heart.

“She said his name is Grogu. She’s going to test his abilities in the morning.”

“Grogu,” Omera repeated. She laughed under her breath. “It’s nice to hear that he has a name.”

Din nodded in agreement. “It is.”

Silence between them grew like a vine on a wall for a long time, until Omera shifted and put her hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry we’ve made this part of the journey so difficult. Winta wants to go home… I’ve been distant...”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I do. I want you to know that I’m here to support you. And Grogu. I want to be here with you both.”

Hearing Omera say that she wanted to be with him wasn’t a surprise. They’d made an agreement that they would find a path forward together once Grogu was with the Jedi. Even still, he felt his heart rate double at her words.

Omera wanted him in a way no other had before. She wanted a life with him, and he wanted it in kind. It surprised him how much he did.

Din shut his eyes. He pressed his head against the tree.

“When this is over…” he paused thoughtfully. “Maybe we could go to Nevarro. Winta can go to school. I can get work with Cara or Greef. We can have a home there.”

For a few seconds, she was quiet. He began to doubt that she felt comfortable with the idea of a life like that with him. Maybe she wanted something different. Maybe she wanted a life on Sorgan. But could he settle down there?

“That sounds nice,” Omera finally replied. Her voice was warm and gentle. “Maybe I would become a Mandalorian, too.”

The thought of Omera becoming Mandalorian was enough for him to forget to breathe.

“You would do that?”

“Yes.” Omera’s responding whisper brought an unbreakable smile to his face. “I’m kind of jealous of your armor, if I’m honest.”

He laughed, a noise that came from his belly, and Omera joined him. Her fingers found his on the forest floor, gentle when they slid against his gloved hand.

How had he found her? How had he been so lucky?

“What about Sorgan?” Din asked. “Your people would miss you. Winta would miss it too.”

She sighed. “I know. I think we would make it work. She could find new friends. And we would be together. I don’t want you to have to settle for something like a life on Sorgan if it isn’t what you want.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle, either.”

She was quiet while she thought about it. “We could visit the village. It’s a compromise I’m willing to make for our future together.”

With his eyes closed, he could see it: a home in Nevarro. Winta’s giggles echoing off the walls. A bed he and Omera could share alone. Doing odd jobs for Greef and Cara. Bringing Winta home a gift from wherever he found himself in his travels.

If he extended his reach enough, he could just feel it in the palm of his hand.

In the morning, once Grogu finally awoke, Ahsoka Tano began testing his abilities.

She started with a rock in her hand, one she pushed toward him as a demonstration of what she wanted him to do. Once he held the rock in his hand, she asked him to push it back by using the Force.

Din watched from the side, sensing that Grogu’s stubborn streak didn’t only include not listening to him. Apparently, he struggled to listen to everyone. When Grogu failed to send the rock back to Ahsoka, the Jedi sighed.

Thoughtful, she took a step to the side. “Let’s try something else. Come over here.”

Din looked to the Child and tilted his head toward Ahsoka to try and get him to move. He didn’t.

“He’s stubborn.”

“Not him. You. I want to see if he’ll listen to you.”

He glanced over at Omera, who sat nearby with Winta, brushing back her daughter’s hair as they watched Grogu’s test in silence. They didn’t want to cause distraction for the kid.

“That would be a first,” Din remarked, lifting his brow in exasperation.

“I like firsts,” Ahsoka said with a wry smile. “Good or bad, they’re always memorable.” She handed him a fresh stone, wanting to start over. “Now, hold the stone out in the palm of your hand. Tell him to lift it up.”

He did as he was told, the rock placed delicately between his thumb and forefinger. “All right, kid. Lift the stone.”

The Child stared back at him, blinking. Apparently, he didn’t want to listen to him either.

“Grogu,” Ahsoka reminded him.

“Grogu…” Din repeated.

This time, Grogu’s ears perked up. It was clear he enjoyed hearing Din say his name. Might have to keep that in mind for later.

“Come on, take the stone.”

Din could tell that Grogu gave it an effort, but it was nothing compared to what he’d seen him do before.

“You see?” He turned to face the Jedi and chucked the rock backward onto the ground again. It was useless. The kid didn't want to do it. “I told you, he’s stubborn.”

“Try to connect with him.”

Connect with him… how? A thought occurred to him, one that made him smile slightly. The ball from the lever on the Crest seemed to get him to do what he wanted. Just like Omera had suggested: award him with something he wanted to earn his responsiveness.

Din reached into his belt to find the ball. He lifted it into his palm and then slid it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Grogu.” He waited to get the kid’s attention locked on him. He gestured to the ball with a nod. “Do you want this?” His ears perked. “Well, go ahead.”

The Child concentrated on pulling the ball from him. He could feel it. Something was happening. He was about to do this, wasn’t he? He could prove to them all that he could use the Force.

“That’s right, take it. Come on.” Din couldn’t help from smiling from beneath his helmet. He had faith in the kid. He’d seen him do so much… if Ahsoka only knew. “You can have it. Come on.”

In an instant, the ball soared through the air between them, landing directly in Grogu’s waiting palm. He couldn’t help the swell of pride within him. He nodded, moving toward the Child.

“Good job!” He felt the grin on his face spread. “Good job, kid. You see that? That’s right.”

Din caught Omera staring at him. She smiled in kind, just as proud of Grogu as he was.

The Child cooed, looking at him as if he was more excited about the affirmation than he was about having his ball in his hands again. When he approached Grogu on his perch, he knelt down. He offered Din the ball and he took it, unable to look away from him. He was always amazed when he saw the kid do his thing. There was no doubt that he had gifts.

“I knew you could do it. Very good.”

From behind them, the Jedi spoke, “It’s like I thought. He’s formed a strong attachment to you. I cannot train him.”

He knitted his brow, instantly upset, and whirled around. “What? Why not? You’ve seen what he can do.”

Ahsoka stared at the Child for a moment and then turned her attention up to him. “His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears. His anger.”

“All the more reason to train him.”

The Jedi took a step towards him. “No. I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight. To the best of us. I will not start this child down that path. Better to let his abilities fade.” Ahsoka glanced toward Omera and Winta briefly. Then, she took a step backward as if she were prepared to leave. “I’ve delayed too long. I must get back to the village.”

The Jedi began on her path away from them, but Din knew he couldn’t let her go.

“The Magistrate sent me to kill you.” The Jedi pivoted on her heel to face him once more. “I didn’t agree to anything. And I’ll help you with your problem, if you see to it that Grogu is properly trained.”

Ahsoka took a deep breath as she considered the agreement. Together, they would make quite the team- one their enemies would never see coming.

Having made up her mind, she nodded. “Then we should get moving.”

After an afternoon spent trudging through the dying forests of Corvus, Omera felt as if every ounce of energy she had was absolutely depleted. As they approached the Razor Crest, all at once, all she wanted was to curl up in a corner somewhere and sleep.

Din and Ahsoka had come up with a plan to solve the Jedi’s problem, but they would wait for morning before they would begin their siege. Until then, their group returned to the Crest in silence, listening to the sounds of their feet against the forest floor and a couple of creatures moaning in the distance.

“He’s worn out,” Din murmured as he adjusted his son in his arm.

Omera hummed. “Using the Force must tire him.”

The Mandalorian nodded in agreement. He was the first up the Razor Crest’s extended ramp. As he walked, he soothed Grogu with his palm over his belly. Omera couldn’t help but see the action as a vision from the future, where he carried their newborn in the very same way. The thought made her heart ache with longing.

Winta followed after the Mandalorian, but Omera lingered at the base of the ramp. She turned when she felt a set of eyes on her. Ahsoka studied her from nearby with a soft, unassuming smile on her face.

She hadn’t realized that Ahsoka had followed them, but wasn’t surprised to see her. They’d spent the better part of the day together.

The Jedi approached, only slowing to a stop when they were close enough that their conversation would be kept private.

“I can feel your child,” Ahsoka said. She looked downward, a silent gesture to her middle. “It’s a boy. He’s strong. Healthy. Congratulations.”

Her heart raced wildly. How could she know? Was it the same way that Grogu knew?

“Thank you. But how do you…?”

Briefly, Ahsoka glanced up the ramp toward the inside of the Razor Crest. The Jedi was calm. Patient.

“The Force is in all things.” With a small smile, she added, “Grogu sensed him too.”

Omera thought back to the experiences she’d shared with the boy, where he’d seemingly been able to sense the unborn without needing any prompting at all.

“I had a feeling.”

The Jedi took half a step backwards. “I’ll be back for the Mandalorian before dawn like we agreed. You should rest.”

Before she could respond, Ahsoka turned away. Omera shifted her focus upward to seek out her family within the Razor Crest.

If what Ahsoka said was to be believed, she carried within her a boy. It was good to know that he was strong and healthy. Any worries she’d had about that could be put away.

Absentmindedly, her palm fell over her middle and she gave the small bump a gentle caress. Joy filled her as she considered her unborn child. What would he look like? In what ways would he be like Din? The thoughts gave her heart a lot to ponder.

Inside the ship, she saw Din with Grogu at the sleeping nook while Winta watched on from a slight distance.

The Mandalorian lingered, hovering with his son as if he could make time freeze, and Omera looked to Winta again, whose sorrowful focus sat on Din.

Winta knew they would have to say goodbye to the young Jedi soon. It wouldn’t be easy for any of them to let go of Grogu and see him step into his future, but there was hope in it. Grogu would one day be able to master his skills and return to them stronger than before. It wouldn’t last forever.

“Why don’t you set up our bed out here tonight, my love?” Omera asked her daughter with a gentle hand pressed to her arm.

Winta rubbed her eyes tiredly and nodded. “Okay.”

Their bed wasn’t much: a series of blankets and a single pillow they shared, but it was enough to make do. It was at least better than sleeping sitting up in the cockpit, even if the ground made her muscles ache just the same.

Omera went to Din and put her hand over his forearm, drawing his attention to her. “He isn’t going anywhere. Let him rest.”

“I never gave any thought to him leaving,” Din admitted in a quiet voice. “I always thought there would be more time.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Din sighed heavily. He finally pulled away from the hole in the wall. Their fingers tangled between them and she knew then that he was more vulnerable than he’d ever been with her.

This was difficult for him. She’d never seen him so conflicted about doing what was right before.

“Let’s try to get a few hours of sleep.”

Once the makeshift bed on the floor of the Razor Crest was completed, they pulled the ramp back up for protection from the creatures of the forest planet, and Omera settled in beside her daughter beneath a single blanket.

The Mandalorian lay out on his back beside them. The position made Omera feel tired in the most bone-aching way, but she turned to him anyway, and saw that he stared back at her.

He pulled his glove from his hand and she smiled when he sought out hers. This time, he traced lines into it, drawing over the creases and grooves of her palm like he could memorize her.

Desperation filled her. She wished that they were alone so that she could tell him how she felt about him. That she loved him. That she was carrying his child- a boy. That the future they’d discussed just a night ago was more possible than they could even dream.

“Are you okay?” Omera asked in a whisper.

Din stopped his movements on her hand briefly at the question she posed and then continued, whispering in response, “I can’t teach him what he needs to know. This is the best path for him.”

His selflessness was one of the strongest parts of him, but she knew it didn’t sit as easily as he made it sound. This was hard. He and Grogu were a clan of two. They’d formed an unbreakable bond.

“But are you okay?” Omera asked again.

The Mandalorian hesitated.

“I’ve grown to care for him as my own.” Din’s voice was quieter than before; timid. “He’s… my son.”

His words brought tears to her eyes. She forced him to stop tracing lines into her skin and reached up to take his hand in hers instead.

“One day, you will look back on this moment and remember the hurt, but then see the good that came from it and realize that it was well worth it all.” She smiled a little. “My mother told me that years and years ago.”

Din’s fingers tightened around hers, but he said nothing.

“She was so… wonderful. She would’ve loved you.” Omera smiled at the thought of her mother meeting the Mandalorian. She’d probably laugh that bright laugh of hers and challenge every word that he spoke. “She always told me I would find a man one day with stars in his eyes to match all of my ambitions.”

“Did you?”

She stared at Din for a moment. Her heart skipped a beat, frantic even though she knew the answer without needing even a second to think. Although she had never seen his face, she knew that she had indeed found a man with stars in his eyes.

“Yes. I found you.”

He released a soft breath- almost a gasp of surprise, like he couldn’t believe she felt this way for him.

“Every hardship that’s happened in my life led me straight to you,” Omera continued. “And I don’t regret any of it because meeting you… being with you…” She smiled more, admiring the Mandalorian in the darkness. “It’s made me so much stronger. I’m sure Grogu feels the same.”

When he spoke, his voice sounded fragile, “You’ve made me stronger, too.”

His mission with Ahsoka was a rousing success.

The townspeople were freed of their oppressive government, Ahsoka was free to do as she pleased, and to top it all off, he now had a spear of full beskar to add to his assortment of weapons on board the Crest.

But, it was the end. The Jedi wanted to see the Child, and she would take him to train him in the ways of their kind.

Slowly, Din climbed the ramp up to check on the sleeping boy. Once he stood in the cargo hold, he discovered that Omera and Winta sat out waiting for his return.

Omera had a sorrowful look in her eyes that Winta mirrored.

“Is it done?” Omera asked.

He nodded his head once. “I need to bring him to her now.”

His stomach twisted sourly. If this was goodbye, he needed to make it quick. They’d both get over this, in time.

“Winta, let’s go sit in the cockpit,” Omera suggested quietly. She seemed so aware of what he needed: time alone with the kid.

Without needing any other push, Winta and Omera went up the ladder to the cockpit, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts and the child he’d fought to protect time and time again.

Din approached the hammock and realized he couldn’t be upset when he found that he was still asleep. He nudged the hammock, trying to wake him peacefully.

“Wake up, buddy,” he murmured. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

Grogu stirred, his eyes opening briefly, but sleep found him again, and Din sighed softly with a smile on his lips.

Eventually, Grogu whined and Din took the opportunity to lift him into his arms. Leaning back against the nook, he stared down at his son. Grogu took his finger and held it. His eyes opened a little bit more this time.

“Hey, Grogu.” Din grinned when Grogu’s ears perked at the sound of his name. “Hey, kid.”

Grogu hummed and his eyes slid shut, but Din didn’t begrudge him for wanting more rest. Instead, he held his son tighter and wished that the moment could last longer.

After a couple of minutes that stretched into dozens more, Grogu finally flexed his fingers into his palms and opened his eyes once more.

“You ready now, buddy?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I promised I’d take you to a Jedi… so, that’s what I’m gonna do. Okay?”

The Child stared at him blankly.

“You don’t belong with me. You belong with your kind.” It felt like a lie. “It’s time to go.”

He brought the Child away from the sleeping nook slowly. Stopping at a nearby crate, he prepared him for the small journey to town. Fussing over him seemed to come naturally, he mused, and he began to wonder if it was instinct.

Just as he was about ready to take Grogu back to Ahsoka, he turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. It seemed he didn’t need to go back to town after all.

Din lifted the Child into his arm again and allowed him to hold onto two of his fingers as he descended the ramp to get closer to the Jedi.

“You’re like a father to him,” Ahsoka said gently. With a deep, steadying breath, she looked from Grogu and back up at Din. “I cannot train him.”

He hadn’t come all this way to hear such a thing, but there was hope that beat idly within him anyway. Maybe, if she just saw the kid do one more Jedi thing. Maybe if he could show her what he did to the Mudhorn...

“You made me a promise, and I held up my end.”

Ahsoka’s gaze shifted to Grogu and she took a few steps forward as she thought about something. She reached out to rub a finger over the Child's.

“There is one possibility. Go to the planet Tython.” She looked up at Din. “There you will find the ancient ruins of a temple that has a strong connection to the Force. Place Grogu on the seeing stone at the top of the mountain.”

“Then what?”

“Then Grogu may choose his path. If he reaches out through the Force, there’s a chance a Jedi may sense his presence and come searching for him.” The Jedi folded her arms against her chest. “Then again, there aren’t many Jedi left.”

Grogu babbled sadly.

She looked up at Din again, as if she could sense something. Her gaze shifted once more, to the ship just beyond him. Turning, he saw Omera standing at the top of the ramp on her own, watching the exchange.

“Thank you.”

Ahsoka took a step backwards, away from the Crest, and lifted a hand. “May the Force be with you.”

Din held Grogu just a little bit tighter as he turned away from Corvus and the Jedi on the ground. Omera gave him a tender smile and reached out to touch his arm as the door sealed itself shut.

“Guess there’s still at least one more stop. Tython.”

She nodded. “I heard.”

Together, he and Omera made their way back up to the cockpit of the Razor Crest. In silence and with a comfortable ease, he settled Grogu into Winta’s open arms and climbed into the pilot’s chair to begin preparations for takeoff.

They would have one more stop on this journey. It almost seemed like it would never end, but part of him was glad that they had more time.

Fear of the unknown path ahead of him could be pushed aside for a few more days, until the Jedi came for the kid. Then, Din would have to decide where the path was and what he would do next.

Once they broke the atmosphere into space, he heard Omera shift. Her chair squeaked just a little as it pivoted.

“Winta, would you please take Grogu with you down below? I need to talk to Din.”

His heart leapt. She wanted to speak with him alone? What for?

He turned around to face his passengers. Omera nodded gently to her daughter, silently asking her to leave. The girl stood to her feet with Grogu tucked beneath her arms and stepped out of the cockpit.

Once the door slid closed behind the children, Din focused on Omera.

“What’s going on?”

In her eyes, he saw something he’d seen a few times before: her secret.

She was interrupted by Winta the last time she almost told him. Now, they wouldn’t have any interruptions.

“I said I would tell you something when we found the Jedi. Can I tell you now?”

He swallowed the freshly formed lump in his throat and nodded just barely enough to be registered.

“Yes.”

Omera sat forward in her seat with her hands clasped together in her lap. She seemed confident, but at the same time, he saw nervousness in the way she breathed. She silently debated what to say before speaking, and when she did, she kept her focus on him.

“I’ve wanted to tell you since you came to Sorgan, but I keep getting tongue tied.” A soft, tender look filled her features. “I’m expecting a baby.”

His heart leapt and his stomach lurched. “You’re…”

She straightened out in her seat and settled her hand against her midsection, revealing to him a gentle swell of her belly.

How had he not noticed? How had he not noticed?

Looking away from her hand over her body, Omera met his gaze once more.

“Ahsoka told me that she could feel him in the Force.” An excited smile spread wide, crinkling beside her eyes with the purest form of joy. “She said it’s a boy. He’s healthy and strong.”

A baby. A boy. Omera was pregnant.

How had he not noticed?

Din felt almost lightheaded as the brunt of the reality of it hit him with full force. She had been with him for a few weeks and hadn’t uttered a word about it to him.

Should he be offended? Concerned? Angry? Happy?

How the hell had he not noticed?

Moments from their time traveling together flashed through his mind one after the next. Near-death experience after near-death experience. Danger after danger. Fight after fight.

Guilt cascaded over him in a hard wave.

Omera’s smile faded as time ticked on. “I know it must be surprising for you to learn. I was surprised when I found out, too. I didn’t think I’d get the opportunity to have another child. He’s already changed my life so much.”

As much as he wanted to be happy for Omera as her friend, there were so many darker thoughts in the way of that. He was angry that he’d put her into situations that were so risky. Angry that she hadn’t told him the truth beforehand.

Angry at the betrayal he felt for loving someone who didn’t feel the same. There wasn’t any chance that he had anything to do with her child after only one night with her. There must have been someone else. Right?

He closed his eyes and his head fell. He didn’t know how to ask her if she was committed to another without breaking his own heart.

“Is…” He paused, hating the way his voice cracked. “Is it... mine?”

“Oh,” she gasped out of surprise, “Din, yes, of course.” Her voice was breathless, weighed down with a sense of relief. “How could I have been with someone else?”

His heart rate doubled at her admission. She hadn’t been with another. He was the one Winta had told him about on Trask: the one her heart chose. It wasn’t a surprise to him, but it did fill in some of the uncertainties he felt.

“Omera, you could’ve been hurt. You could’ve…”

His chest began to heave. The thought of losing Omera hurt more than even the thought of losing Grogu.

“I knew what I was getting into coming with you, Din.”

“I know, but I didn’t know that you were-” Din cut himself off when he realized his voice was raised. He sighed heavily. “I put you in danger.”

She shook her head swiftly. “I don’t blame you for any of it. We’re all okay.”

He couldn't shake the anger off of him for putting her in danger. It had been part of the agreement when she came along, but she hadn't told him ahead of time about her child. He could've done more to keep her safe.

“When we were still on Sorgan, you could have told me.”

Omera's focus went to her lap for a moment. “I didn’t know if telling you would’ve made you want to stay. I didn’t want it to force you to. You are on a path with Grogu to find his kind. A path I wasn’t on until you asked me to come with you.”

His chest began to ache when he realized just how much she cared for him. Without knowing how he felt for her, he imagined it would have been difficult to admit her secret to him. Allowing him to continue on his path for the Jedi had been a selfless act, even if it may have been a shortsighted one.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” There was a worried frown on her lips and her eyes were filled with sorrow and regret, but she didn’t beg or plead. “If this changes how you feel about me, about our future… I understand. I haven’t been honest with you.”

Suddenly, she stood up in front of him. She took one of his hands into hers and settled it over her middle. He could feel the curve of her body. It was so very real.

His breath caught in his throat. He felt hot, as if the armor he wore was suffocating him, but it was the only thing keeping him from absolutely breaking down.

“This child is yours. If you want him.”

At her words, the weight of the day came crashing down on him. He’d almost had to let go of the kid, and now he had so much more than he thought he’d ever be given.

Somehow, he’d been given Omera. Beautiful, kind, gentle, Omera. And after just one night together, he’d been given a child. His own flesh and blood. A boy, if the Jedi was right. His son.

“If not…” Omera managed a weak smile and lifted a shoulder. “That’s okay. Winta and I can return to Sorgan. I’ll keep the baby safe and he’ll be loved. You can visit if you want to.”

Din stared at her from behind the haze of his visor and suddenly, it felt like he was playing a game. Wearing his armor in front of Omera felt like a child’s game. What purpose did it serve him to cover his face from her?

She was his equal. The one his heart belonged to. The one who carried his child.

If there were Mandalorians who didn’t need to wear their helmets in order to stay faithful to the creed, he could bend the rules and step across the line for Omera. Of everyone in the universe, she deserved to know him wholly.

He pulled his hand away from her body and decisively stood so that they were on equal footing. She stared up at him with an edge of uncertainty in the depths of her eyes.

The last thing he wanted was for her to be unsure about how he felt about her, or about their future.

Din settled both hands on either side of his helmet. Slowly, he lifted it from his head and lowered it to rest on the console beside him.

With the helmet removed, he could breathe freely. Cool air entered his lungs through his nose in deep, steady breaths that he forced himself to take.

All at once, he felt just as terrifyingly bare and exposed as he had on Nevarro with the IG unit. Anxious and self-conscious thoughts flooded his mind, but he quieted them when his focus settled on her.

Somehow, she was more beautiful to him, seen without obstruction. He could see more clearly the roundness of her belly, a sign of his child growing within her, and cursed himself again for not seeing it any sooner.

Omera seemed overwhelmed by his choice to remove his helmet- just as much as he was. Unshed tears gathered in her eyes and the softest gasp escaped her parted lips.

“I love you, Omera.” His voice was barely a whisper. It embarrassed him, how fragile he sounded, but she could see him as he was, truly, and it was everything all at once.

Hesitantly, she reached out for him with one hand. Her fingers were cool when they ever so softly grazed his cheek and his eyes shut instantly at the feeling. Invisible sparks lit up on his skin like fireworks that made his heart jump in surprise.

Slowly, her fingers slid upwards, until her palm rested over his cheek, and he leaned his weight into her hand. He opened his eyes again to meet her gaze.

Omera tilted her head and offered him a tender smile, just as fragile as he felt. “I love you too, Din.”

As if she knew it was too much to handle all at once, she lowered her hand away from his face and settled it against her middle instead.

Everything felt different. Everything felt new. Changed. The world he’d made for himself had been shattered in the best, most terrifying way. He and Omera were going to have a baby. They were going to be a family.

He took a moment to admire her, each pretty eyelash, every freckle, each breath she took that lifted her chest. It was different, in a good way, seeing her so freely.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you need anything? Do you feel sick?”

Omera laughed out of surprise. “No, I’m fine.” She soothed a hand over her bump. “The worst of the sickness is over.” With a soft sigh, she added, “I feel so much better now that you know, too.”

There would be so much that they’d have to decide. Where they would go. What they would do next. How they would raise the kids. But all he could think about was her, and how he wished he could give her the entire universe.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

He shook his head, unsure what she meant. “About what?”

“This is a lot all at once… I would understand if you were overwhelmed.” She drew in a breath and averted her gaze, looking instead at the floor. “The day you left Sorgan, I thought it might have been partly because of me… because you weren’t sure what to do-”

He settled his hands over her hips and Omera timidly peered up at him.

“It is the Way to have a family,” Din told her. “Children are important. I didn’t think I’d ever have any of my own, though. It’s easier to travel alone.”

She nodded in understanding. Hope shined in her eyes brighter than it had before. “It was meant to be.” Her smile spread. “I’m so excited to meet him. I think he’ll be a lot like you.”

He felt his eyes grow wide with even the thought. It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea of what their child would look like, or act like. It was different for Omera. She’d had the experience with Winta and knew what to expect.

“I hope he’s more like you. Not me.”

Omera tilted her head with an affectionate smile. “We’ll see soon enough.”

His hands shifted on her hips and he squeezed as his thoughts shifted to the path that laid ahead of them. The Jedi had told him to take Grogu to Tython. Could he do that now? Did Omera want to do that now?

“Should we go back to Sorgan?” he asked. “If Gideon’s after the kid, it’s dangerous traveling with me.”

Omera frowned. She pressed both hands against his heart and he reached up to hold each hand, almost instinctively.

“We found the Jedi, but the journey isn’t over.”

“No.” He searched her eyes and thought about the way Grogu had so easily accepted Omera into his life. “You’re like a mother to him.”

“I know. I’ve felt it too.” Omera softened some. “If you want to take us to Sorgan, we��ll be alright waiting for you to come home to us.”

Home. He’d had to find his home on the Razor Crest the past few months, with the kid. Now, he’d have to figure out what home looked like with Omera, Winta, and, eventually, a newborn.

Overwhelmed, he lowered the crown of his head to hers and shut his eyes. She reached up to the back of his head and threaded her fingers through his hair, her fingernails scraping lightly against his scalp as she went.

As he considered next steps, he knew that he needed to be careful, but Omera had proven herself capable in dangerous situations. She’d been an active participant in several fights, eager to help in whatever way she could, all while secretly pregnant. He’d become stronger because of her help. Together, they were a powerful team.

If what Ahsoka told him was the final step in finding a Jedi that could train Grogu, there wouldn’t be much left to their journey. And if Gideon was out there, they could work together to protect what was theirs.

“You should come with us,” he told her. “Grogu would like that.”

“And when it’s over, what will we do?”

He shook his head. “We’ll… figure it out. We’ll be a family. All of us. If that’s what you want.”

Din pulled back from her just enough to meet her eyes. She lowered her palm to his face again and caressed his cheek with her thumb.

“I want that very much.”

It filled him with so much hope knowing that she loved him.

“Me too.”

A happy smile found her lips. “I'm glad.”

Their eyes locked in a way that they hadn’t since that night on Sorgan, with a silent fire burning within each of them. He couldn’t help the thought that came to him next: he could kiss her if he wanted to.

He had never kissed anyone in his life, but something about the moment made it feel right. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

It almost felt like time itself slowed to a stop. Maybe it did. Just for them.

Pulling back, he kept his eyes shut and put his forehead against hers. Omera’s hand gently found his neck.

“You have given me so much,” she murmured with regret in her tone. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your creed as well. I never saw your face. Put your helmet back on.”

Din shook his head. He pulled away so their eyes could meet. “I want you to know me like this.”

Omera still seemed hesitant. Her fingers caressed his face, running over the curves and lines of him as if she wanted to memorize what he looked like. Each touch felt like a reviving spark that lit his heart up with the brightest light.

She pulled her hand from his face when she was done.

“There was a time I believed I would have been content never seeing your face.” Her dimples popped when she smiled at him. “But I’ll admit that I’m thankful I know who you are beneath.”

His heart leapt. “Does it give you hope that our child won’t be a monster?”

Omera’s gaze fell to her middle and the smile on her face spread. She laughed and it was one of the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard.

“I wasn’t worried, but… yes.”

Din admired Omera again. She was everything to him.

When he lifted his helmet into his hands, it felt strangely heavy. He hesitated with it, studying Omera one last time unobstructed by the visor’s haze.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Having heard her voice once more, saying those precious words, he resolved that it was time to put the helmet back on, so he did.

He didn’t know what the future held for him other than what stood before him. The idea had scared him before, the uncertainty of what he’d do once the Child was safe with his kind, but now, a different fear found him.

Would he be able to live as a Mandalorian within this newfound family? Could he provide for them? Keep them safe?

No matter where he would find his path leading him, he could only hope that he would be enough for Omera. For Winta. For his child.

#mandomera #din x omera #the mandalorian #my writing #the edge of hope #it's time to meet a jedi!#this chap is aka: The Big One

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adowbaldwin · 3 years

Text

Costco Carnage

@madwriterscorner hope you enjoy, im fully dying of laughter so i hope it mads you smile at least!!

Philippe and Rebecca sat contently in the trollies constraints, happily being wheeled towards Costco by their daddy. He made delightfully silly faces, and even snuck them a Haribo for being so well behaved. Their last shopping trip, Philippe had accidently let Apollo’s glamour slip in the toilets and if it weren’t for some quick thinking, that would have been difficult to explain.

Becca from the moment ‘go’ spent the entire time thudding her legs against the plastic chair screaming for juicy juice. Her pertinence had become so unmaintainable they no longer allow ‘Uncy Baldin’ or ‘Narntie Fwebie’ to babysit, because they are like dealers encouraging addicts. They never say no and pander to her every whim.

Matthew and Diana gave eachother a sorrowful gaze before they entered through the automatic doors; Costco had been one shop they hadn’t attempted and hoped that it would fair better then whole foods.

Hint: it did not.

“Why are their television boxes in a food shop?” Matthew’s eyebrows furrowed together as his neck fell to the side in confusion

“There’s wheel burrows and dog beds by the pastries, if that’s any consolation” Diana laughed, encouraging her husband to venture further into the shop “Do not question the aisles, just enjoy the chaos”

He leant down so only she could hear “the last time I enjoyed chaos it ended in a beheading”

“Shall I question whom was at the end of the swordsman’s blade” her eyebrow tipped accusingly

“Oh look, Philippe paw patrol” his change in subject did not go a miss, and she would pester him of it later. For now their main focus was top shop and ensure nothing untoward happened.

“CAP’N TURRBOO” He wailed excitedly pointing to the toy “WANT WANT”

“How do we ask for things politely” Matthew held his sons gaze as they boy looked lost, and his little tongue poked out as his forehead wrinkled, obviously racking his brains for the answer

He looked at his sister, whom had fallen asleep, then back to his father “WANT NOW” he bellowed, thudding his legs. This action caused Becca to jolt awake and the little perfectly formed snot bubble to pop on her nose

“wa we want” she turned to her brother concerned, as if she knew he needed something and wanted to help

His little hand outstretched the figurine “CAP’N TURBO”

With a determined look, one that had almost made Matthew faint at how it resembled Baldwins, she pointed her finger and squinted “Toy pease Daddy” she smiled sweetly, though her stern look never dropped

He sighed deeply looking into the eyes of his children “Alright, you both only get one toy. This is Philippe’s Becca you best make a better choice” he reached for the figurine and placed it into the trolly and Philippe had a victorious look on his face. This time, it resembled his fathers after conquering another country.

“Oh God” Matthew started to silently pray for his children

“What wrong?” Diana appeared at their side, arms filled with tubs of Haribo aka the only sweet treats that come second to juicy juice

“Becca gives the same stern looks as Baldwin, and Philippe looks like Philippe after he’s pillaged a town” he looked wordily as his twins looked thrilled “this is going to be a long shopping trip, mon Coeur”

“Isn’t it always?” she laughed, gripping his arm tightly in comfort

Diana looked around the baby aisle in confusion, one moment she had been by Matthews side and the next he was no where to be found “Come on shall we find your daddy and sister?” she jostled Philippe higher on her hip, took their fake dog by the lead and made way to exit the aisle.

Then she heard it, the screech of wheels scrapping along the floor and a flurry of giggles from a child.

Matthew came bounding down the aisle, bouncing the trolly up and down shouting “TURBULANCE” as Becca cackled in her chair “EMERGENCY STOP” he skidded along the slick floor, almost crashing into the nappies. Both had been in stitches, then became inconsolable when he started spinning the barrel singing ring-a-ring-a-roses.

“Matthew” Diana made his name sound like a berating “as IF it’s not troublesome enough coming on a shopping trip, you’ve attracted the attention of the entire store”

They had been in the open square of the shop, and onlooking mothers looked like they were going to wet themselves in excitement. There’s nothing more attractive then a 6”4 man doting on his children, and that he did.

His head turned to the side and boasted a sloppy grin “there was turbulence”

Becca had giggled, cackled and squealed in delight at the motions she had been put through “Mummy a meanie”

“Mummy is not a meanie Becca do not be so rude” her father smiled, leaning to her ear “she’s a spoil sport”

She had never head her daughter laugh so much, and opted not to comment as she ad been kept entertained during the trip. She would however be having a few choice words with her husband about this trip when they returned home.

Greatfully, the trip had been largely successful until the last hurdle; the till. Philippe was unusually whiney today, and refused to sit still. His sister however had again fallen asleep, drooling everywhere.

The last few items had yet to be scanned, and then all hell broke loose “FWWEEE APPOLLO” Diana’s eyes grew wide as the dog started to morph back to its rightful state and she felt the panic rising. Everything turned into slow motion, without scanning the remainder of the items she threw them into the barrel and Matthew bundled the contorting bird into his arms. He tried his best to smother it, to prevent on lookers from seeing and he was largely successful.

They ran, as quick as Diana’s human pace could take them, and sped towards their car. They faintly heard the security guards screaming their names at their partial tea-leafing escapade. though they did not care, they had a dog bird to attend to. Matthew would have Baldwin rectify the £7.99 difference some other time.

Beads of sweat dripped from Diana as they skidded out of the car park, pelting out of the area as quick as possible. In a rush they had even dumped the trolly in the boot, and they would certainly return the stolen item. Perhaps in a few decades, though.

She looked at Matthew whom looked paler then normal and burst into laughter “That is one trip to add to the list, isn’t that right children” she looked over her shoulder to the back seats and sickness rose in her throat the high chairs were empty

“MATTHEW THE CHILDREN” She bellowed, and he looked through the visor in panic

“OH GOD THE CHILDREN” His eyes had only met the beady ones of Apollo who simply cooed and plucked his feathers from the middle seat

He veered the car off to the side of the road in panic as his rationale had taken over. He realised the mistake before Diana had. They stepped from the car and Matthew pelted to Diana’s side, pulling her to the back of the car “What are you doing? We need to go back – the chil-“

Her sentence was cut short, when he opened the boot and her vision was met with a snoring Becca and gleeful Philippe chomping on a galaxy bar.

They had dumped the children in the boot in midst of chaos.

They would never hear the end of it from Baldwin, whom will most definitely find out from his darling Cara.

“AGAIN AGAIN” Philippe squealed in delight, obviously having enjoyed his little rough ride.

#adow #fic #a discovery of witches

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axwalker · 4 years

Text

Tears in heaven 6: Friends

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Liam x MC Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings: NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog.

This story will deal with very dark subjects such as death, severe depression and suicide attempt (among others) if you’re triggered by any of those issues, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY

N*SFW

A/N: The story will go back and forth between three different periods of time (2010 / 2015 / 2019). In this chapter, the flashbacks cover an extended period of time.

A/N: I’m well aware that Drake would want to name his kid Jackson. But as this is an AU, where something very sad happens, I decided to no not give this little boy, the name of one of their canon babies.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word count: 6,200 (sorry!!)

Songs inspiration: Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton

THANKS TO: @burnsoslow for beta reading so thoroughly, editing, correcting so many English mistakes, and help me to figure out some parts of the storyline. TE QUIERO MUCHO. ❤️

@pedudley I appreciate your feedback so much. I LOVE YOU ❤️

September 2009- June 2017

Liam had been in love with Alexis for more than eight years.

It had started after that day at the Derby. Drake and Alexis had spent one Sunday with Liam in Valtoria watching Indiana Jones movies, drinking whiskey, and exchanging anecdotes. From that day on, the three of them started to spend a lot of time together. And, with time, Alexis and Liam became good friends. She always listened to him and gave him sensible advice; she knew better than anyone what it meant to have a demanding father like Constantine. She was funny, witty, and passionate. She made him laugh and encouraged him to work less and spend more time doing the things he loved. She seemed to understand, to see the real him.

He started to notice that she was always in his mind. Something would happen and he’d think about her; he’d hear a joke and ask himself if she’d laugh at it. Soon, the longing became more urgent, more difficult to bear.

He still remembered the night when they had agreed to go to the movies together. Drake had to cancel at the last minute, but Alexis and Liam were good friends, so they went together anyway.

Big mistake. The Wolfman had been the longest movie of his life. He had spent 119 minutes longing to kiss her, to take her hand -- dying to caress her tanned thighs.

Everything about her fascinated him, and he realized that he was head over heels for her. The worst part was to witness how crazy she and Drake were about each other, how much his best friend loved her. So he tried to stay away. He tried to keep himself busy and was never available when Drake invited him to eat or drink with them. But it was impossible to avoid her completely, and the moments he spent with them were a form of torture. He craved her company, her laughter, but he also felt intensely guilty towards Drake.

He started to sleep around with different women. He was rich, handsome, and very good in bed. He had absolutely no difficulty finding beautiful women to go back to his apartment with him; he was a generous lover and usually had a good time. But it was nothing more than a pastime. Those women would never be enough to calm his yearning for her. A lot of those nights, he pictured Alexis’ pretty face looking at him, her body under his, writhing, panting, moaning his name.

Drake and Alexis’ wedding day had been one of the worst days of Liam’s life. He had been obligated to stand next to Drake and be the witness of their vows, their love. To watch her look at Drake, completely enraptured. His heart broke at the realization that she would never be his. His only consolation was to know how happy she was with Drake. How good his best friend was for her.

When Drake had called him to tell him that Alexis was pregnant, he had been overwhelmed by happiness for them. He knew how badly Drake wanted to start a family, and she would be a great mother. But he couldn’t avoid feeling insanely jealous too. And that jealousy disgusted him; it made him feel petty and disloyal. So he had finally decided to leave Cordonia for a while -- anything to avoid betraying his best friend, his brother. He moved to Italy and started to control his family’s businesses in the Mediterranean countries.

After one year in Sardinia, he had met Giulia Ferrante at a business meeting. She was a tax attorney in the firm that represented the Rhys in Italy. Giulia was a tall and beautiful blond, with magnetic blue eyes. She was worldly, sophisticated, ambitious, and utterly fascinating. Completely opposite to Alexis in every possible way. After a few romantic months, he was over the moon; Giulia had agreed to come back to Cordonia with him. He couldn’t deny that some of his old feelings had resurfaced when he saw Alexis again, but he was convinced that Giulia would help him to fully eradicate them.

All his friends, and even Constantine, had welcomed his girlfriend with open arms. They got engaged and then married in an elegant ceremony that most magazines had called “The Wedding of the Year.” During the first months of their marriage, they were happy, but soon, they started to have a lot of trouble. Giulia was controlling, insecure, and jealous of any woman that came close to him, especially Alexis. She demanded that Liam stop seeing Drake and his wife. The truth was that Giulia loved Liam madly, but he wasn’t capable of giving her what she desperately needed from him. This caused them to fight constantly and intensely.

One day, he came home after work to discover that Giulia had gone back to Sardinia; Liam sadly realized that he was more relieved than anything else. He began working late, drinking with Leo, and hanging out too many nights at Alexis and Drake’s cabin. Tom was three years old and had Liam wrapped around his little finger. His godson was a bright and happy child, the perfect mix of both his parents. Liam loved to spoil him and play with him.

When the little boy had died, Liam ignored his own grief and did everything he could to be there for Drake. For both of them. It killed him to watch their destruction. He tried to make Drake talk, but his walls had doubled since the accident. He drank heavily, and nothing that Liam did or said seemed to help.

One night, Drake had called him and had asked him to take care of Alexis. Without further explanation, he told Liam that he needed to leave, but that he couldn’t do it without being sure that someone would look out for Alexis. Liam tried to convince him to stay, but Drake had left anyway.

The first months after his departure had been hellish -- not only for him, but for Liv and Max too. Alexis’s depression had gotten worse since Drake had left; nothing made her feel better. Liam felt powerless until that horrible day when she had tried to kill herself and he had saved her life.

He had tried to contact Drake, but apparently, he wasn’t in Andalucía anymore. Savannah assured Liam that her brother was all right, but he wasn’t going to come back any time soon. Liam tried to understand his best friend’s behavior, but it was getting more and more difficult every day. In any case, he couldn’t help Drake anymore, so he decided to focus his attention on Alexis. He convinced her to get help, so she was committed to a specialized clinic. He visited her every single weekend, on both days that visitors were allowed.

The first months were extremely difficult. It hurt like hell watching Alexis unsuccessfully fight her depression. She was barely capable of eating or leaving her bed. She refused to participate in any group activities, and speaking of Drake and Tom was off-limits; any mention of them, and she crumbled all over again. She didn’t want to face her new reality, to accept that all the happiness she had felt had simply evaporated.

Her sorrow broke Liam’s heart. He stayed with her every chance he could, and she had cried in his arms more times than he could count. He would have given anything to help her; he felt powerless, a useless face to her grief. Liv and Maxwell visited, too, but not with the same frequency and dedication that Liam did.

Four months after Alexis was committed, she started to get a little better. She began to participate in some group activities and talked to her therapist about Drake and her son, though she was still unable to pronounce his name.

She and Liam started to take long walks together and discovered that they had a lot more in common than they thought. He was determined to give her back her will to live, her old love for life. She was very interested in art, a subject that he was passionate about; he brought her his favorite books so she could read them in her spare time. They spent hours talking about painters and techniques. He promised her he would take her to Paris so she could see “Starry Night” in person. Little by little, she seemed to heal -- or at least improve.

Around December, she demanded to be allowed to leave the clinic. Her therapist wasn’t convinced: Even after 15 months, she couldn’t say Tom’s name or talk about the accident. But she was functional again, and the doctor knew that she would have to face real life sooner or later. So she had finally authorized Alexis’ release for the beginning of February.

One cold morning, 15 days before Alexis was to be discharged, Liam was in the reception talking to her doctor when he saw Drake entering the clinic’s hall. Liam felt a surge of rage. How did Drake dare to come back after all those months without even a phone call? Liam was sure that Drake knew about Alexis’ suicide attempt because Maxwell had told Savannah. The fact that Drake hadn’t bothered to come back even then infuriated Liam. Where the hell was Drake while Alexis cried her heart out every night? When she had called his name again and again after a nightmare? When she had to be sedated? Committed in that clinic? Even if Liam knew that Alexis’ sorrow was the consequence of Tom’s death, he realized that Drake’s departure had been her breaking point. He didn’t doubt for a second that if Drake had stayed, Alexis wouldn’t have attempted to take her life. So Drake didn’t have any right to come back now that she was doing better. Liam knew that seeing Drake was going to bring all the memories back; the recovery she had fought for so hard would be jeopardized because of his return. It wasn’t fair to her. Liam needed to protect her.

When Liam confronted him, Drake didn’t give him any explanations. He had asked for Alexis, in an almost-desperate tone, but Liam was too angry at his friend to care about him anymore.

Liam needed time to think about the best way to proceed. He had asked Drake to come back the next day. That night, Liam analyzed all the risks and possible consequences and realized that his own priority was Alexis. More than that, he was sure that Drake would do the same thing if he was in Liam’s shoes.

The next day, he told Drake that Alexis didn’t want to see him anymore. Drake was devastated; he had insisted on hearing it from Alexis herself, but Liam had coldly convinced Drake that the best thing to do was to leave again. Alexis was healing; she needed time and space, and Liam knew Drake -- he wasn’t going to stop looking for her. So Liam repressed his guilt and, without telling Alexis, had given Drake her suicide letter. Drake realized how much his mistakes had damaged her and had returned to Spain the next morning.

When Alexis was discharged, Liam had helped her to look for an apartment; she got a job teaching Spanish at an Adult Language School and enrolled in college to get a master’s degree in translation. She already spoke Spanish and French, so it would only take her a year to obtain the degree. Her dream of writing had died with her son.

That year, Liam and Alexis became best friends. She never talked about the past, so Liam learned to respect her memories. They created new ones. They went to museums and art exhibits. She tried to make him taste something more exotic than his beloved baklava, and he tried to make her love the opera. They spent hours next to each other reading or working. She teased him relentlessly about his addiction to work so he would loosen up a little. He helped her study for her tests and do homework. Their friendship was an oasis for Alexis, who was desperate for some stability in her life. It was hope for Liam, who had never stopped loving her. She frequently had bad moments, days where she drank too much and couldn’t get out of bed, but Liam would never let her give up.

A year later, Alexis graduated as a certified translator. Liam threw her a small dinner party on his rooftop with Olivia, Max, and their friends -- the first party she had had since the accident. Though she was nervous at first, she tried to bury her old memories and managed to have fun. At the end of the party, only she and Liam were left. Liam was sitting in an armchair watching her while she leaned over the railing gazing at Cordonia’s skyline. She was wearing a short summer dress that showed her long legs. The music was still playing, and she was unconsciously swaying her hips to the rhythm. Liam’s heart skipped a beat, and he realized that he couldn’t wait another second. He had loved her more than eight years; he was sure that he could make her happy if she gave him a chance. He stood up and leaned on the railing next to her. He chose his words carefully; he knew how vulnerable she was, and he didn’t want to pressure her or scare her off.

“I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you, Alexis.” He paused -- it was now or never. “Always. But I can’t hold this any longer. I need to tell you how I feel. How you make me feel.” He turned to watch her; she was still staring at the city lights. “If you don’t want me to keep talking, I won’t,” he added gently.

Alexis wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t want to lose him; he had become the most important person in her life. And she loved how she felt when she was with him; he made her feel things that she thought were not possible anymore. He made her forget that she was alone, that Drake would never come back.

She took a step in his direction, placing her hand on his shoulder. She turned her eyes to him before she said shyly, “Keep talking.”

That small phrase pushed Liam over the edge. He cupped her face and kissed her softly, almost afraid of breaking the spell. He had waited eight years for that kiss.

He spoke in a low voice. “I’ve loved you for so long, Alexis. I would do anything to make you happy.”

Alexis decided to be honest with him. “I don’t know how I feel yet, Li; I don’t even know if I will be able to truly love again. The only thing I know for sure is that I will never want to be a mo-” her voice cracked, “-- to have kids again.”

He pulled her close to him, his embrace safe and warm. “I understand, darling. I do. We’ll take things slowly. I’ll be patient, my love,” he said, tenderly stroking her face.

She nodded against his chest. He raised her chin towards him and kissed her again, deeper this time. He would spend all the time in the world waiting for her.

She kissed him back, promising herself that she would do anything she could to make him happy too. He was her future.

August 2011-May 2015

Alexis’s pregnancy had been an easy one. Except for a few days of morning sickness and constant fatigue, she had been lucky.

The childbirth had been more difficult; after 14 hours of pain, promises of celibacy, and some heavy cursing from both his parents, their baby had been born, only three days after Alexis’ own birthday. Drake and she were both bursting with happiness. Drake never thought he could love someone that much; his wife and son were his entire world. Alexis’ favorite book was Tom Sawyer, so Drake had suggested naming the baby Tom Walker. Alexis had agreed with tears in her eyes.

The first months were blissful chaos. Tom hated to sleep, so he kept both his parents up almost all night. They didn’t care; he was a sweet baby and they were both crazy about him.

Alexis had taken a semester off college, but she was determined to come back in September. Savannah was a stay-at-home mom, and she had a lot of help at Ramsford, so they decided that she was going to take care of Tom during the day. Every day around 5:00, one of them went to Ramsford to pick Tom up.

Lexie felt guilty; her little baby was too young. Maybe she should’ve stayed at home with him, but she knew that if she didn’t go back to school then, she would never do it.

Drake reassured her; Tom was a happy, loved baby, and they were giving him everything they could. He had graduated in June, and thanks to his excellent grades and references, he already had some clients and worked part-time for Liam’s stables. He was able to manage his own time, so he was usually the one that picked Tom up from Savvie’s house. He loved the moments that he spent alone with his son, but he was never happier than when Alexis arrived home, too. She was a great mom, sunny and playful. Drake felt extremely proud of his little family.

Their baby grew in the blink of an eye. Tom was joyful and easygoing; he had learned to speak and melted his parents with his wit and laughter. He had Drake’s eyes, the same chocolate shade and shape. His bright grin was all Alexis; the room lit up for Drake when one of them smiled at him.

His practice had taken off; every farmer and private clinic in the county called him when they needed a vet. Alexis was about to finish her English degree. She wanted to write, but she knew she needed to start earning money, so she was going to look for a job in a publishing house.

----------

Soon Tom turned three years old. As they did every year, they had invited their closest friends to celebrate both birthdays together. It had been one of the happiest days their family had ever celebrated.

Alexis decorated their courtyard with posters and figurines of Shrek’s different characters, while Drake prepared his famous chocolate cake with Tom. When she was finished decorating, she entered the kitchen. Her heart melted when she saw them together. Tom was sitting in his high chair with a little apron; Drake had given him a wooden spoon and a plastic container so he could “help”whip some cake batter.

“Uh, Drake. I think someone licked the bowl,” Alexis said with a teasing smile when she saw Tom’s little face covered in chocolate.

The little boy giggled as he shook his head no. Drake chuckled. “Well, apparently it wasn’t Tom, Lexie.” Drake looked at his son with a conspiratorial smile. “Maybe Mom licked it and is saying it’s you, eh, little man?”

“Yes! It was Mom!” The toddler covered his face to hide the chocolate stains.

Alexis tickled him until the little boy roared with laughter. “Aha! This is the proof I needed!” she screamed when Tom uncovered his face. She kissed his little nose before talking to Drake.

“I’ll take him upstairs for a quick nap, or he’ll be sleeping at his own party,” she said as she got him out of his chair.

Drake saw his son’s sleepy face and nodded, smiling. “You are right, baby -- just come here first.” He cupped her face and kissed her, then he placed a soft kiss on the top of Tom’s head. She gave him the flirty smile that made him crazy before going upstairs with their son in her arms.

Two hours later, the guests arrived. They all settled in the courtyard where Drake had placed some chairs and tables.

The party was a success; it was the first birthday Tom fully appreciated. He ran around and played with all his little friends from the playground.

“He’s so similar to you, man. I can’t get over it,” Liam said as he watched Tom play with one of his friends.

Drake opened beers for each of them as he spoke. “What are you talking about, Li? He’s all Alexis.”

“The same smile, yes. But the rest is you. The eyes are exactly the same … and he’s going to be trouble -- I can tell.” Liam teased.

Drake watched his friend look at his wife and son with a nostalgic expression on his face. Sometimes Drake wondered if Liam had loved Giulia at all; he didn’t seem to miss her.

Liam stood up and took Tom in his arms; the boy giggled when Liam carried him on his shoulders.

“Let’s take this little man to his gifts,” Liam said. Tom clapped excitedly, making Liam laugh.

Liam gave him a tricycle, Maxwell a game of Hungry, Hungry, Hippos, and Olivia a set of wooden swords.

Liam and Max played with the boy and his friends all afternoon as Drake and Alexis served the food and got the cake ready.

They all sang to both of them; Tom was over the moon. It was a perfect birthday.

At 8:00, all the guests had left. Drake took Tom to bed while Alexis cleaned up the house.

Half an hour later, with their son sound asleep upstairs, and the baby monitor in his left hand, Drake went looking for his wife.

He watched her through the glass door. She had put some music on her phone and was wearing her earphones, so Tom wouldn’t wake up. He couldn’t hear the song, but just seeing her dancing and singing made him smile. He had heard that sometimes, kids added stress to a marriage, that some couples with children drifted apart. But he was even crazier for her than he had been five years before. He wanted all of her, all the time. And he knew she felt the same about him.

“Hi, baby!” He touched her shoulder and she startled; she hadn’t seen him come into the garden.

“Shit, Drake, you scared me!” she exclaimed laughing.

“I haven’t given you your gift yet.” He took her hand and led her to one of the garden chairs. He sat in one of them, thinking she would sit on his lap, but she straddled him instead.

He arranged a strand of chocolate-colored hair behind her ear. The sight of her elegant neck and the smell of her cherry perfume were too much for Drake. He pulled her towards him and kissed her. She was wearing an orange halter dress with a lace-up back. He had been dying to untie that lace since he had seen the dress that morning. He roamed her back with his hands and slowly undid the knot, leaving her chest exposed.

He admired her bare figure for a few seconds. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. I can’t believe you’re all mine.” He peppered her collarbone, her neck, her chest with kisses. Her nipples were erect for him, and he groaned before softly biting them. She gasped, but he put a finger on her lips.

Pointing to their son’s room upstairs, he growled in her ear, “Don’t make a noise, Lexie. Or I’m going to have to stop, and I’m guessing,” he stroked her folds over her dampened underwear, “that you wouldn’t like that.” He smirked at her.

She swallowed hard but nodded furiously. Drake’s fingers slid under the fabric. He focused on stroking her skin and teasing her nub. He easily plunged one finger inside her and then a second one, pumping slowly at first and then mercilessly as she arched her body, barely whispering his name.

“Good girl,” he whispered, kissing her collarbone. She shivered, and her body convulsed with an intense orgasm while he watched her, mesmerized.

She rested her head on his shoulders. He tied up her dress again as he gave her time to recuperate, kissing her temple softly and rubbing her cheek. She raised her head to look at him.

“Was that my gift?” she teased him.

He answered her, a cocky smile on his lips. “Please, Lexie, that was barely a taste of all the things I will do to you later in our room.”

She bit her bottom lip. “I can’t wait.”

He took out an envelope from his back pocket and gave it to her. “This is your gift.” He was adorably excited about it.

She opened it; it was a picture of an RV and a map of Europe. Alexis looked at him, puzzled.

He gently stroked her thigh as he spoke. “I know how much you want to travel, baby. And I know that we don’t have a lot of money, and traveling with Tom can be complicated, but with an RV, things could be easier. We won’t need hotels or planes. And we can manage our own time. I did some research; a lot of families do it.” He grinned at her. “As for the countries, you get to choose them -- it’s your birthday gift.”

The knot in her throat didn’t let her speak. He was right; it was her dream to travel, and she absolutely loved the idea of doing it in an RV. It was a little crazy, a little bohemian. It suited them perfectly.

Drake looked at her expectantly. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

She cupped his face, looking at him with tears in her eyes. “I don’t like it; I love it, Drake. It’s the most perfect gift.”

“Hey, don’t cry,” he said as he wiped one happy tear. “I didn’t want to make you cry, baby.”

“I can’t believe how happy you make me.” She gave him a long, fervent kiss.

When they parted, breathless, they heard Tom calling them through the baby monitor. Drake smiled at her as they came up to read him a story and put him back to sleep.

April 2019

“Actually, Alexis, I would like to speak a moment with Drake. If he doesn’t mind.”

Drake smirked, “Of course I don’t, Li. Why wouldn’t I want to catch up with such an old and loyal friend?”

Alexis threw them a worried look but left them alone. For better or worse, they needed to talk.

After his sarcastic remark, Drake’s rage had lessened a little. He sat on the steps of the garden as he took a flask out of the inside pocket of his jacket. He took one swig and passed the flask to Liam, who was sitting next to him.

They drank quietly for a while until Liam decided to break the silence. “I’ve been in love with her since we met.”

Drake laughed bitterly. “You seriously think I didn’t know? You think I didn’t notice how you looked at her sometimes?” He took another drink from the flask before speaking again. “Please, Liam, you were like my brother. A part of me has always known.”

It was a warm spring night; Liam took off his tuxedo jacket. “Why did you never say anything?”

Drake shook his head. “I started to really notice it just before our wedding, but I knew you wouldn’t do anything about it. I thought that if I said anything, it would ruin our friendship. And then you left and came back with Giulia.” He stroked his beard pensively. “Plus, I thought Lexie and I were unbreakable. I thought she loved me as much as I loved her.” He paused before adding resentfully, “Obviously, I was wrong.”

Liam sighed, sadly. “Please, Drake. You and I both know that I’ll never share with her what you did. I won’t pretend otherwise.”

“I don’t understand why you’re together. I don’t understand either of you anymore,” Drake stated with a gravelly voice.

Liam furrowed his brow. “I tried everything, Drake. I tried to convince myself that I only saw her as my friend, as your wife. When I noticed that my feelings only got deeper, I left. I lived in Italy for a year. Hell, Drake! I even married Giulia. But when I came back, my love for her was still here waiting for me, intact. She drove me crazy.” He took a sharp breath. “I just want you to know that I never tried anything while you were together. Never.”

“No, of course not. You’re a gentleman. You waited until my marriage blew up in a million pieces before making your goddamn move.” Drake tried to calm himself, but there were some things that he couldn’t leave unsaid. “Our son had died, Liam. She was destroyed, and you took advantage of that.”

Liam toyed with the flask; he didn’t want to fight with Drake, but his old friend was twisting the truth. “You’re rewriting history. I helped her because she was alone. She needed me. And, frankly, you have no right to judge us, Drake. You left her and me here to deal with everything. You have no idea how she was. She was destroyed, completely broken.” His eyes watered at the memory. He turned to watch Drake, who had gone pale. He gave him the flask, and Drake took a long swig. “I had to fight really hard to bring her back to life. And we fell in love. I’m sorry, Drake.” Liam wanted to apologize for his behavior that day at the clinic. “I’m sorry about that day at the clinic. I know I was a real jerk, but I just wanted to protect her.”

Drake felt his chest tighten. He should have been the one protecting and loving her, not Liam. But in spite of his pain, he understood the position Liam had been in that day. “Yes, you were a real jerk at the clinic. But you were right, too. She was the priority, not me. My presence would have hurt her.” Drake didn’t see the point in explaining to Liam the reason why he hadn’t come back that year. It didn’t matter that he had been in prison. The reality was the same: She needed him and he wasn’t there. He tried to push the painful memory out of his mind. Her rejection that day still hurt like hell. That fucking letter still hurt like hell.

Liam gulped the rest of the whiskey. He might have to tell Alexis what he had done one day, but he wasn’t ready yet.

Drake took the empty flask and stood up. He looked at Liam one last time before leaving. “I don’t think I’ll ever be truly over her.” He took a sharp breath before speaking. “But I know we don’t belong together anymore.” Admitting it out loud only made the pain more excruciating. “Please take care of her, Liam. And make sure she talks about Tom. She might hide it, but she needs it.” He patted his ex-best friend on the back before leaving the gardens.

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

Several days later Drake was about to enter Starbucks when he saw Alexis. She was in line, waiting for her turn.

He hesitated for a few seconds before approaching her. She was wearing a pair of jeans with a beige blouse, a gray vest, and her old leather satchel -- a very different outfit from the short dresses and tennis shoes she used to wear all the time. She still looked beautiful, but more serious, less carefree.

“Hi,” he said casually.

She blushed, surprised to see him there. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

He smirked. “Same thing as everyone in the line, I think. I want coffee.”

She couldn’t suppress a smile. “As funny as usual.”

He shrugged. “Some things don’t change.”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded slowly, unsure of how to proceed. The last time they had seen each other, things hadn’t ended well.

He didn’t want to say goodbye so soon, so he kept talking. “You’ve always loved to work in cafes,” he said as he pointed at her satchel.

“Yeah, that was the plan, but this place is packed. There aren’t any free tables available.” She attempted to hide her nervousness behind a small smile. He noticed it anyway and his heart tugged; her vulnerability was his weakness. He would do anything to make her feel comfortable with him.

“Look, someone is leaving.” He nodded at a couple of teenagers who were putting their coats on. “What do you say I pick up the coffees and you go take the table?”

She knew she shouldn’t. Her instincts were shouting at her not to do it, but she couldn’t help it. “Okay, I’ll get a …”

He raised his hand, interrupting her. “A tall mocha, white chocolate …” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “... double-espresso, extra whipped cream, right?”

She smiled at him, impressed. “That’s exactly it.”

“I’ll be at your table in five minutes,” he said, smiling back.

He came to the table 10 minutes later and gave her the drink. Their fingers grazed for a few seconds, producing a jolt of electricity in both of them. She withdrew her hand nervously, but neither of them said anything. He sat in front of her with his coffee still in his hand.

She had to admit that he looked great: manlier and even more rugged than before. His usual denim shirt looked amazing on him; he had rolled his sleeves so she could see his strong, veiny arms … the same arms that had held her so tightly so many nights in the past. She turned her eyes, blushing.

He saw the pretty blush coloring her cheeks. “Is there a problem?”

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

Drake was curious about her new life. He wanted to know if she was happy. He needed to make sure that she was all right before letting her go. The problem was that he didn’t know how to address the subject without making her run, especially after their last exchange at Savannah’s party.

“How about a truce, Lexie?”

Her old nickname on his lips had the effect of making her heart race in her chest. “What do you mean?”

“I just want to know how you’re doing; we don’t have to talk about the past.”

She’d be lying if she said that she wasn’t very curious about him. “I’m in.”

“Do you still write?” he asked before carefully taking a sip of his hot coffee.

“No. I don’t.” She didn’t mention the reason, but they both understood. He would have given anything to grab her hand, but he knew that she would be out the door in less than 10 seconds, so he settled for giving her an understanding smile. “Anyway, I’m in translation now,” she added.

“Well, I’m not surprised, you always loved languages. What kind of literature?”

She drank from the straw before she answered, “None. Legal documents.”

His eyes widened. “Legal documents?

“Yes. Is that a problem, Drake?”

He was about to change the subject to avoid a fight, but he couldn’t contain himself. “There’s no problem. It’s just … that is the kind of thing you hated before.”

“Before being the operative word. I love it now,” she answered defensively.

He leaned on his chair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Look, it’s not my dream job, but it turns out I’m pretty good at it. And I actually enjoy it.” It was an exaggeration; she barely tolerated the mountains of boring documents she had to translate every day, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of accepting that he still knew her so well.

He smiled at her. “I’m happy for you, Lexie.” When he saw her unconvinced look, he added, “I really am. I’m so sorry that I’m such a judgmental prick.”

She laughed before saying, “Admitting the problem is the first step, Drake. All you have to do now is to sign up for the meetings.”

He chuckled. He hadn’t seen that coquettish light in her eyes for a long time. It was still as devastatingly attractive as it was five years ago. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Did you move to Valtoria?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, Walker. It’s a two-way street.” She had a lot of questions for him too. “Are you still working as a vet?”

“Yes and no. I was in Spain for a while, but I couldn’t use my degree there. That’s one of the reasons I came back.” He didn’t dare admit that the need to see how she was doing had been the main reason. “I’m starting a new job in a clinic next week. I’m actually very happy about it.” He smiled at her with his real smile, the one that showed his dimples and weakened her knees. “So you live in Valtoria?” he asked again, intrigued.

She put her hair behind her ear. “Not yet,” she stated simply. She didn’t want to specify that she would be moving there right after their wedding next month. “How long have you been dating Kiara?”

“A month.”

She had to know the truth, as painful as it would be to accept. “Are you in love with her?”

He arched his brows. “I think it’s my turn, Lexie.” His piercing eyes looked intently at her. “Are you sure you want to be a duchess?”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be one.” He was about to interrupt her, so she raised her hand to stop him. “But I’m sure about Liam, Drake. It may seem like a huge sacrifice to you, but you have no idea what he’s willing to do for me.”

“I know he loves you, Lex.” He took an excruciating breath; his next words physically hurt. “And I know you love him, too. I wasn’t trying to criticize. I’m happy if you are.” He looked at her, trying to memorize how gorgeous she was.

She swallowed hard. It shouldn’t bother her so much that he didn’t care if she loved Liam or not. She flipped her hair, making a strand fall over her eyes. Without thinking about it, Drake took the strand of hair and placed it behind her ear. They locked eyes with each other as the tip of his fingers gently rubbed her ear, then slowly moved over her cheek and grazed her face. Her heart was about to explode. She stood up, almost knocking over the table. His touch still had the amazing power of making her lose her senses.

“I have to … I have to go.” Her phone rang; she saw a name on the screen and answered the call. When she hung up, she took her vest and satchel. “That was Rashad. Our court appointment is on May second.” She threw him a sad look; everything between them would be over soon. “I’ll see you then, Drake.” She left the coffeehouse as fast as she could.

Drake’s stomach flipped. The date set by the judge was only one week away, two days before Tom’s birthday.

PERMATAG: @mskaneko @pedudley @pug-bitch @burnsoslow @ac27dj @twinkle-320 @kimmiedoo5 @marshmallowsandfire @loveellamae @lauzales @ravenpuff02 @debramcg1106

TIH: @ao719 @yukinagato2012 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @cordonia-gothqueen @bebepac @nomadics-stuff @hopefulmoonobject @gardeningourmet @cordonianroyalty @msjr0119 @axwalker

#axwalker writes #tw depression #tw death #+18 #n*sfw

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

With All My Heart - P.01

This is the epilogue to Dear Dean.

Grant that I shall never seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, or to be loved as to love, with all my heart.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2645

A/N: This is the first part to the epilogue. You might see some other parts because I can’t stop coming back to them whenever I’m inspired. As always, thank you @themoonandotherslikeit <3

May 2nd, 1946

Hi Sammy,

I’m writing to you on the first page of the new notebook Jamie gifted me.

She’d caught me scribbling notes on papers around the house-- habit I picked up while I was a prisoner in camp, I guess. I just feel like it’s the only way I can tell what’s really going on in my head. I’ve seen things, Sammy, and I’ve done things I’m not entirely proud of.

I remember there was a day when I woke up and my boots were gone. Apparently, if you don’t tie it to yourself at night, you will wake up without them. I’ve learned it the hard way. I spent a couple of days walking bare feet in the freezing cold. I almost lost a fucking toe, can you imagine? I can be thankful that I was an officer and didn’t have to work outside. I walked upon a dying soldier one day, his boots were still intact. I took it from him, Sammy. Of course I waited until he was gone. I still feel bad about it to this day, but those boots were the only thing that kept me from losing my feet. I tied them tightly around me ever since. I know you wouldn’t be proud of what I’ve done, but I just had to survive. I promised Jamie to come back and that promise was literally the only thing that kept me alive.

You remember the feeling of hunger we had while Dad was gone for a long period of time? Where we barely had enough to get by and we ate cereal with water because milk was just too expensive? Now, take that and make it 10x worse. The feeling of hunger in camp is always present. There was not a day, an hour, a minute where I wasn’t hungry. You adjust through time, but the road from being hungry to your stomach feeling numb, that’s the worst.

I don’t even know why I’m writing about camp because it’s basically the only thing I don’t want to be reminded of. Back to the notes, shall we?

There were a couple of notes around the house, that always started with Hi Sammy, but I’ve never gotten around to write more. I just couldn’t, Sam. I didn’t know what to write to you, since I know that you won’t ever get to read them anyway.

On my Birthday, Jamie had the wrapped up notebook in her hand and told me that she wants me to write down my thoughts. It should be some kind of therapy, she said. I know she’s right, but I just couldn’t start to write anything in it until today.

Hope’s sleeping on my arm, by the way, so I’m scribbling in here one armed, hope you can still read it. I know that you won’t, but let us just pretend that you will, alright?

I’m sitting in our study, that used to be Jamie’s old room. There’s a window by the desk, and I can see our garden from here. Jamie’s tending to some crops, leaving me to take care of little Hope. I still don’t know if I’m doing a good job with her, but Hope doesn’t complain, so I’ll take that as I’m doing alright. She’s almost a year now. Her Birthday is a couple of days away, and we invited people to come over. Trenton’s Mom is coming, and some neighbors with their kids. Jamie didn’t want that, though. She said Hope’s too little to know it anyway, but Jameson insisted. Maybe he thought that he could score it with one of the single moms, I don’t really know.

I live in her house now, and her brother Jameson (who’s apparently is a real charmer with the ladies) is living with us. He’s a war veteran, too. He had lost a leg, but he’s cheerful as fuck. I built him a new room downstairs next to the living room, at least now he doesn’t have to sleep on a couch. He helped me build it, too. The two of us were working well into the night every night for two weeks. I also took care of Hope during that time because Jamie attended nursing school in the evenings. During the day, I found work in a nearby Garage. The owner liked me enough to promote me, can you imagine? Me, looking over 20 people? Yeah, you’d have a field day making fun of me.

I went back to clear our old house, Sammy. I took your belongings with me. I hope it’s okay that I kept some things that were hard for me to part with. I gave some of it to Jess. I’ve contacted her after I settled with Jamie. I couldn’t do it before, there was just too much going on and my leg was still in a cast. I’m sorry. She’s doing good, Sammy. Did you know that she too was pregnant? I guess it happened on that last furlong back to the states, huh? I don’t know if she told you or if you held back this big news from me until you were ready to tell, and frankly now, it doesn’t really matter anymore. She had a little boy, he has the same eyes as you. There was no doubt that it’s yours, Sammy. Congratulations!

I felt so proud, but also sad that you’ll never get to see him, never get to see him grow up, and he’ll never know how wonderful you are. His name is Samuel Jr. by the way, but if it’s true that the dead are watching over us, you might have heard it from Jess already. She told me she prays to you every night. We keep in touch and we had them both here for Christmas. We talked about you most of the night (apart from Jim and Jack, Jamie’s brothers who didn’t make it back home). It’s good, Sammy. Don’t worry about us. I’ll promise to look out for Jess and little Sam. You have my word. That’s the least I can do.

Jamie is pregnant at the moment. We’re expecting twins in about a month and a half. I should have known that there were chances that we will end up with twins since Jamie herself is a twin and her mother and grandmothers both were twins. I’m scared, to be perfectly honest with you, Sam. Imagine me with two tiny babies. Yeah, that’s a really good joke, isn’t it? Except it isn’t a joke.. Jamie is freaking out, since her mother died in childbirth, she’s afraid that she’ll end up the same and has written a will and what not. I don’t really know how I can help her get over the fear, since my head is not really the right place for fucking rainbows. It doesn’t mean I don’t try, though. We talk a lot when we get a quiet moment in bed. Her head on my chest, painting figure eights on my skin. It’s good if the subject of the discussion wasn’t so dark.

The girl is fucking huge, by the way. That’s the reason we cleared out Jamie’s parents old room and bought a new, really big bed. There was no way we could have fit in the old bed they had, with Hope occasionally coming in to snuggle with us during the night. Next step would be to clear out Jim’s room. But we’re in no rush. It seems like Jamie needs time, and who am I if I don’t allow her the time she needs to grieve Seeing that I’m still writing to you, I’m not exactly the poster child for it, right?

Should have seen us when we went furniture shopping for a new bed, Sammy. Jamie waltzed through the store, and I carried Hope around. I think we were in there for hours, and Jamie still hadn’t found a mattress she liked. I let her, even if my arms were numb from carrying Hope, but she’s carrying two babies, so who was I to complain, right? The salesman though, he was so sick of us, I could tell. He pulled me aside, asking if I had no say in this. I couldn’t help but laugh. Of course I didn’t have to help Jamie put him into place. I just told him that maybe he should think about women as something else than a homemaker, then maybe we wouldn’t want another salesman about now. We found another sales clerk, the only woman working in there. Mom would have been so proud. It wasn’t an expensive bed, so the commission for selling ain’t that big, but we sure will have to go back there a couple more times and he can be sure that we won’t be asking for him. So, there’s that.

Actually, the salesman asked me if my wife could maybe make up her mind because he could have sold three beds (at least) during that time. I was a little taken aback when he said wife, not gonna lie. I asked Jamie to marry me, I really did. Jameson offered to babysit when there was a fair last autumn. I didn’t have a ring because I kinda spent all my money l on the new room for Jameson and nursing school for Jamie. Plus I gave Jess some, to help her get by with the little one. I gave her your ring which they handed me after they went through your belongings. I was surprised it was still intact. You shielded it pretty good from the blast, Sam. I gave it to her anyway, said that you wanted to propose and as a symbol, she could keep it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jess cry so hard. It’s good Sammy, I’m good with it. The ring was supposed to be hers.

Anyway, I asked Jameson if it was okay for me to ask Jamie, because I was being polite and that’s what they do, right? Asking the dad’s? But since there’s only Jameson, I went along with it. Jameson just bent over laughing, asking me what took me so fucking long and honestly, I didn’t know. It was good as it was at first, but then I thought about Jamie writing to me once that Jim sent her the silk fabric of his reserve parachute so she could walk down the aisle in white silk. Yeah, I thought about that, and I knew that I had to because I wanted to see that, too. There’s no question that I love her though, so.

We were at the fair, and I only had money for a toy ring. You know those from the gumball machines? It’s not romantic at all, I know, but I guess when you’ve been through war together, you can look past that. I got on one knee and she almost said yes. She was beginning to show already, and she said that even if she wanted to marry me, there’s no way the fabric Jim sent was enough to wrap around her so we kinda haven’t set the date yet, but it’ll be after the twins will be born. It kinda gave Jamie some hope and will to get through childbirth, I guess. I bought her gum later too, so there’s that.

Cas stayed in Germany, but not for long if you were wondering. He went back into combat and was leading a battalion in Japan. I wrote to him regularly, because if someone deserves to come back it’s Cas. I was rooting for him. He came back, which I still don’t know how he pulled it off because I heard that 8 out of 10 people weren’t gonna return.

Remember Harvelle? He went back to France and married Lisa. He told me to come visit, but you know me, flying is not really my favorite. I guess I just need time, maybe someday we will. I know Jamie wants to. She wants to visit Jim and Jack, and I really wanna visit you, Sam. I really do. I hope one day I will be able to.

The war is now over, Sammy. Had been for about 6 months. We won, even if we’ve lost so much along the way.

How naïve were we to think that we’d get out of there alive? Remember, they prepared us pretty well, didn’t they? We thought it would be a piece of cake. Go in there, kill some Krauts, come out unscattered, and go home with a fat paycheck for the ‘service’. The moment I saw people being shot at when we got off the landing craft, I knew that this is no fucking piece of cake, and they’d been lying to us all along. But what could I do? You just have to keep on going, keep on fighting for a chance to somehow get back home. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t really fair to lie to us about how big it really was. It wasn’t really fair to let us think that we’d get to go home as soon as we did our deeds. It also wasn’t really fair to think that the war would be over by Chrsitmas and not handing out clothes to shield us from the cold. Nothing was fair, was it?

Well, some of us did get back, but we’ve all lost something in the war. Some a limb or two, some their hearts, and some did lose parts of themselves. We’re not the same person we went in as. We came out broken and bend. We can’t even get it fixed because nothing could fix what we’ve lost.

There’s really nothing I could do other than carry on. I carry on for the ones who aren’t as lucky as me. The ones who won’t get to marry their loved ones, the ones who won’t get to see their children grow up, the ones who had their lives cut short, the ones who got their young adult lives stolen from them, most of all, Sammy, I carry on for you. I’m doing all the things you will never get to do, only because I know that you will come back and haunt me, maybe smack me over the head for being a jerk, if I don’t do it. I’ll do you proud, I promise. It’s the only thing I can do and think about. You were always the voice of reason, weren’t you? Even now if I have to think hard about doing something, there’s a voice in me asking “What would Sammy do? What would Sammy think? What would Sammy want me to do?”

I miss you so much, Sam, you have no idea. If it wasn’t for Jamie, I don’t know if I’d be here. It’s her voice that guides me out of the dark whenever I wake up and think I’m still in Normandy. It’s her embrace that pulls me out of the water around me that threatens to drown me, whenever I have weird thoughts. It’s her, who carries me up to the bed whenever I look too far into a bottle because I can’t shut off the noises of shells exploding around me. I don’t think I even deserve her, but she’s an anchor to me and Jameson. I’m only a little sad that you guys never got a chance to meet, Sammy. If you did, I’d probably be too jealous of the bond you would have. No offense, but I’m greedy, and I want her to myself. I’m just being honest.

Hope’s awake, as you can see from the saliva smeared on the ink. I need to go get something into her belly.

I can’t believe how much I drifted off when all I wanted to say is Happy Birthday, little brother! I love you.

Dean

@dean-winchesters-bacon @beautifulbowleggedangel @flamencodiva @weepingwillowphoenix @adoptdontshoppets @fangirl-and-medstudent-help @liwopanyaasss @mrswhozeewhatsis

#with all my heart #p.01 #dean winchester #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester au fan fic #dean winchester au fan fiction #nathalie writes

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secret-kkh-fics · 4 years

Text

History Repeats | Chapter 1

Due to this not being posted anywhere else yet, please like and DON’T REBLOG my fics.

Chapter Summary:

Rose is horribly ill and exhausted after a bad day. She is surprised when she gets an unexpected visitor who tells her some interesting information and offers her a way to both cure her illness and get back to the Doctor.

Author Note:

Hello! Yet another one I have decided to rewrite. Never actually finished the original of this. I got to somewhere around World War III before I took a hiatus from it and came back a few years later and realised I wanted to update everything to do with it. I ended up both writing the new chapters at the same time as updating the old.

Visitor Through the Void

Dying to Go Home

Rose slowly dragged herself into her house, carelessly dumpling her things near the doorway, and flopping down onto the couch, not even bothering to take off her shoes or jacket. It had been a long, exhausting, and disappointing day. And she was in a lot of pain.

They were certain that the dimension cannon was ready to go this time. The mechanics had been checked a thousand times, and by all rights, it should work. But something was stopping it from working. It was like how after the breach had closed and the jump refused to work. This meant that she would only be able to get back home when the walls between the worlds were weak… and that wasn’t a good thing.

She wanted to go home more than anything, but if the walls weakened, it could only mean that something really bad was happening. And she had learnt the hard and heart-breaking way that not even the Doctor could stop everything.

It had been just over a year since the painful day she had been trapped in this universe. A whole year of being broken in more ways than one. She’d tried… she really had. She did it for her family’s sake, and for Mikey’s sake, and mostly for her sake. She did it for the Doctor. Because she knew that he would want her to do what she was doing. She knew that she was better than that. She wasn’t just a broke shop girl anymore. They were all worried about her, so she had tried to act like she wasn’t slowly dying.

She had gone to work at Torchwood with Mickey and Pete. It was the closest thing she could get to her old life in this world, and it was also her only chance to get back. She had made a few friends and made an effort to hang out with them and be happy. She played with her new baby brother and spent time with her mother. She had even gone back to school and worked on her A Levels. She lived the fantastic life he had asked of her.

…Or, at least, she tried to live the fantastic life he had asked her to. But it didn’t feel fantastic. Or brilliant. Or anything other than horrible. Alright at best.

She felt as if her mind and heart were slowly being ripped apart. She felt empty like she was missing something inside of her. Some crucial part that she needed to live. Yes, she felt empty and broken from the loss of her Doctor… but it was something else too.

Sometimes she felt as if she were drowning, that her oxygen was being taken away, suffocating her. It was the same feeling, like her lifeline was slowly being dragged away from her. Killing her painfully and slowly. And it was only getting worse.

She was sick. Badly sick. She’d tried to hide it from her family, but they had noticed. They had noticed the fevers and deliriums. They had seen her have the occasional hallucination or seizure. They had seen how most days she was overcome by severe migraines that were at times so crippling she wanted nothing more than to curl in a ball and scream.

But still, she went on as best she could.

She had been to the hospital for scans and tests, but they had all shown nothing wrong with her. Medically anyway. They had noted that her brain scans and DNA seemed a little odd… inhuman. But they weren’t harmful. In the end, she had chalked it up to side-effects from travelling through space and time for years.

Grief could cause sickness. People had died of grief. They had given up, and it had overcome them… Her family thought that grief was the cause. But she knew it wasn’t. She was heartbroken, but she was too determined to let it beat her. People only died of grief when they gave up, and she had far from given up. She refused to. She was not going to give up until she found a way back home. She wouldn’t give up till she was with him again.

But right now, she was so sick and so tired, the migraine that had been building all day so instead, she fell unconscious within moments of landing on the couch.

Rose was woken by singing. At first, the song played at the edge of her mind, slowly dragging her back to consciousness. It was a familiar song, an eerie, haunting tune. She’d heard it a thousand times before. She knew it like the back of her hand, and she knew she had found herself absentmindedly humming it many times. But she couldn’t place where she knew it from.

The next thing she noticed was that she was feeling much better. She was able to breathe easier. Most surprisingly, her migraine was completely gone. She couldn’t recall the last time she hadn’t had even a slight headache, but she wasn’t in pain. She wasn’t in pain at all, which was something else she couldn’t recall the last time that happened. For the first time in a very long time, she felt whole again.

Sitting up, the third thing she noticed was a golden light coming from somewhere in the room. She looked over at the source of the light in surprise. It was dark now, probably sometime past one in the morning, and there was very little light shining into her house. So, the glowing cloud of golden dust like energy swirling around in the middle of the room was massively out of place.

She jumped to her feet in alarm, looking for something to defend herself if whatever it was was dangerous. She watched warily as the golden mass swirled through the air gently a moment, before it all started to be dragged towards the centre, pulling it all in so it clumped together, then, with a final flash, it formed into the shape of a woman.

The woman was glowing slightly, and she gasped as she came into being, then immediately fell to the floor. Rose quickly hit the lights, then rushed over to help her to her feet. But she stopped dead when she saw the woman’s face… it was her.

The other her looked younger than she did now, she could only be nineteen or twenty. Sure, to be honest, she hadn’t actually changed that much at all since then, but there was something about this Rose that seemed so young.

Most alarming, though, was that this other Rose had glowing gold eyes. And on top of that, she was wearing an outfit that had been destroyed long ago.

“Oh… that’s a new feeling,” the other her said, attempting to steady herself on her feet. Then she pulled a surprised face, almost as if she was startled by the sound of her own voice. She was still very shaky on her feet and almost fell over again, so Rose put out a hand to steady her. She had to catch her right away when the other her let out a sharp gasp and doubled over. “Oh, and it hurts! That really, really hurts!” she gasped. “How do you humans tolerate this? Just wait until I get my hands on that stupid Master… Wait… hands. I have hands.”

“O-okay…” Rose said in confusion. “Sorry, what’s going on?”

This made the other Rose look up at her, and her golden glowing eyes widened in delight as if she’d only just noticed her. “Rose!” she cried happily, throwing her arms around her. “Thank Rassilon, you’re still alive! I was so worried about you! Oh, you don’t look so good. I was cutting it close, but this was the first moment that the wall between the walls weakened. Goodness, this talking thing is fun! No wonder my Thief does it so much!”

Experimentally, the other Rose began to flex her jaw and pull funny faces.

“Right… So, who are you and why do you look like me?”

“Look like you?” Again, she brought her arms up in front of her and looked at her hands, turning them over as if she would see the resemblance, then she turned around until she managed to catch sight of herself in a reflective surface. Then she let out a small squeal of delight, bringing her hands up to feel her face, poking at the huge grin she found there. “I look like my human!” She, yet again, seemed ecstatic about this. Rose was baffled by the way the duplicate of her had practically claimed her, but it gave her the sense that she perhaps knew her.

“Yeah, you do. So, um… Who are you?”

“Oh, yes. I’m-” She paused as if she couldn’t quite remember. “Oh, what do you call me? You call me a name that’s not my name. I’m blue. We travel… I go-” Rose jumped a mile in the air when the familiar sounds of the TARDIS dematerialising came from the other Rose’s mouth.

“The TARDIS?!” she said in shocked disbelief.

“Yes! Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. That’s it! That’s me. I’m the TARDIS.”

Weakly, Rose backed up until her legs touched the couch and she sunk down onto it, her mouth hanging open slightly. “Oh my god… But-but how? How’s this possible? And how come you look like me?”

“Ooh! It’s quite simple, really,” the TARDIS told her. “There’s a crack in the universe that I was able to squeeze my consciousness through. But I couldn’t just -poof! – get a body. I needed energy and DNA and matter and a whole bunch of other things that would take longer than we have to list! Since you’re the only one who’s ever actually touched me and not just my console, yours was the only DNA I could use. It’s not permanent, though. It won’t last long. And I’m afraid I am terribly weak. I’m using what little energy I have left to do this-” Suddenly, she whimpered in pain and sunk to the ground. As she did, Rose quickly reached out and pulled her down onto the couch with her.

“Are you okay?” she said in alarm and concern. She held onto the Rose shaped TARDIS, running a hand over her head to check her temperature. She seemed normal, but there was clearly something wrong.

“I’ll be okay eventually,” she said, trying for a smile. It was a weak one that Rose knew all too well. She had given that smile so, so many times over the last year. It was how she smiled when she was trying to hide her pain from her family.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, just an insane Time Lord – and for once I do not mean the Doctor – has stolen me and turned me into a paradox machine.”

“Oh no. That’s not good.”

“No, it isn’t. But all will be well in the end… I hope. There are a lot of outcomes, but this is the Doctor. Besides, it’s worth it. The paradox has weakened the walls between the universes. It’s the only way I could get here, and I’m so glad that I did.” The TARDIS smiled at her, and this time it was a genuine one. “The Doctor and I can’t live without our human. We hate it. We’re so sad… And you feel the same. But you, Rose Tyler, literally can’t live without us… Or, well, me.

“Literally?” She raised her eyebrows in question. “What do you mean literally?” The words put her on edge, especially since she sensed just how true they were. But, despite the foreboding, she couldn’t bring herself to be anything but overjoyed and excited. The walls of the universe were weak. That meant that the Dimension Canon might be able to work finally. But to one-up that, the TARDIS herself was sitting there in her living room!

“You’ve already noticed it, haven’t you?” the TARDIS asked her. “Ever since I’ve been here, you haven’t felt quite as sick. And you’ve been sick for a long time now, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” Rose nodded. “Started not long after Dårlig Ulv Stranden. It was mostly just… headaches. All the time. And then migraines. Sickness, seizures, dizzy spells and weakness. Mum was scared it was a tumour or something, but the tests all show nothing’s wrong.”

“No, I don’t imagine cellular destructuralisation would show on the technology here.”

“Cellular destructuralisation?”

“Yes, a side effect from being cut off from me, I’m afraid.”

“But… doesn’t that mean that I was… falling apart or something? Wouldn’t that mean I was dying?”

“Yes, yes it does. You’ve been studying!” The TARDIS smiled at her proudly.

“Before the sickness made me have to stop, yeah. H-how come I’m dying?” Really, she ought to be horrified by the idea, but she found she wasn’t exactly surprised.

“Well, you should have been dead already. You weren’t meant to live past the Game Station. You shouldn’t have been able to survive, holding the Time Vortex within you. Only I can do that. And you didn’t… survive, that is. You died, for a moment there anyway. But the Doctor and I, we both loved you so much. We couldn’t let you die. He gave up one of his regenerations to at least take the Time Vortex out of you. He hoped that he could save you, but he knew in his hearts that you would die. You held onto it for much longer than he did, and it killed him after only a few seconds of holding it. There was no way he could have saved you. And he didn’t want to go on like that without you.

He didn’t understand how you survived, it completely baffled him. Though, it did make him overjoyed. He thought that there must have been something very special about you. And he was right. Because no other human would have given up their life to save him like that. No one had ever won the heart of the TARDIS – my heart. And you did, Rose. I love you as much as he does… of course, not quite in the same way, but just as much. I couldn’t stand to see you die… to see the devastation it would cause him.

So, I bonded myself to you… I’ve never bonded to anyone before. Not the way we are. The Doctor and I are bonded. He’s my thief, my pilot, my Time Lord. When he dies, I die with him, but if I die, he will live on. Our bond… it’s both ways. We die when the other does. We can keep the other alive, or we can take them down as well. And with you in this universe, separated from us so completely. We may as well have been dead to one another. Our separation through the Void, it was slowly killing the both of us. I’m a little surprised you’ve lasted the year, but I’m glad. My Human is a fighter.”

“Okay, so… hold on, let me get this straight,” Rose said, holding up a hand to stay her. She could hardly comprehend what she was hearing. She felt as if her world had been flipped upside down by this revelation and her head was spinning. But at the same time, it just made so much sense. She’d always felt closer to the TARDIS after the Game Station, as if she could almost understand her. “So, I’ bonded to you… to the TARDIS, because I died from absorbing the Time Vortex. And because of the bond and being apart, we’re both dying. So, the only thing keeping me alive is being near you?”

“Yes, exactly!”

“S-so, are you taking me home then? Is that why you’re here? To take me back with you?” She couldn’t stop the hope creeping into her voice, but the TARDIS’s sad expression made it leave her in an instant.

“No.”

“No? But-”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I want to, but I can’t. I don’t have enough energy. And I wouldn’t be able to bring your physical form across the Void without killing you. Besides, you don’t want to go back to where I am. If the Master ever got his hands on you…” She shivered, her face going pale, and Rose had the feeling that she wasn’t just imagining the possibilities, but actually seeing them happen. “Not to mention that most of the outcomes where we all make it out okay, time reverses a year back to the moment I jumped through to here. You would suffer a year of torture and sickness only to be thrown back here to die once more. No, no, no. Not happening.”

“Yeah, no. I’d rather not.” At this point, she was kind of just sitting there stunned on the couch. She was trying to deal with the shock of what was happening, along with information overload, so at this point, she had decided to just roll with the punches. “But, isn’t there some other way? I-I can’t just stay here! Not if I’m just going to die! I’m working on something, a Dimension Cannon. It’s supposed to teleport you between dimensions, but it’s not an exact science of where and when you land. Also, I don’t think it works unless the walls of the universe are breaking down, and I probably don’t have time for that, do I?”

“No, I don’t imagine you would. But there is something we can do. We can stop it!”

“…Stop what?” Rose asked when the TARDIS didn’t elaborate.

“Canary Wharf. The separation. We can stop it from ever happening. You never leave our home universe. This timeline would cease to exist, and the three of us can continue travelling the stars. The Doctor and Rose Tyler, in the TARDIS… as it should be.”

Rose’s eyebrows rose high. “What? How?! How would we do that?!” she said eagerly. She trusted the TARDIS beyond anything, the same as she trusted the Doctor. And it was a good thing that it was the TARDIS who was pitching her this idea because, at this point, she was willing to do anything to return to her home universe if it meant being with the Doctor in the TARDIS again. At times, she had even been willing to cause a paradox… Oh no. “It won’t cause a paradox, will it?”

The TARDIS smiled at her. “No, no it won’t. Paradoxes are caused when time is disrupted, but we won’t be disrupting it… we’re rewriting it. It will be a completely natural occurrence. See, the only part of you I can take back is your mind. And not only that, but the only way to ensure we don’t disrupt anything important is to take you all the way back… Back to the time you first stepped foot on the TARDIS.”

Rose started. “Wait, so I’m pretty much going to have to relive my life from after I first meet the Doctor? The whole two years?! …Or was it three?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“But… but I can’t do that!” She shot to her feet and began pacing restlessly. “I can’t just… do it all again knowing what happens. I can’t do nothing when I have the chance help people I couldn’t before. I can’t let innocent people die! And what about me? Young me? Do I just… take over my own body. What happens to the old me?”

“Rose, calm down. It will all be fine,” the TARDIS tried to soothe her. “Trust me. You’re not going to take over your own body, more… merge with it. You’ll still be that same wonderful nineteen-year-old girl… but at the same time, you will also still be this brilliant woman you are now… Oh, I’m not explaining it right. This would be much easier if I wasn’t using words. How do humans explain things so easily all the time?” Rose just shrugged. In her experience, explaining things wasn’t always easy, even for people who did talk all their lives. “Hmm, well, you will see what I mean soon anyway. As for saving people you couldn’t before… that can certainly happen. Most of the time anyway.”

Rose stopped her pacing, and her eyes brightened. “Wait, really?! What about causing paradoxes?”

“Well, that’s like I said. We’re rewriting, not disrupting. You can change what you like, so long as it doesn’t change the timelines too much. There are still certain things that brought us to where we were, and we still need to keep all that the same. And there are certain events, the deaths of certain people that shape the history of the universe. But so long as it doesn’t affect those, you can save whoever you can. I would never ask you not to help people when you can.” Another smile touched her lips. She was so glad that her Rose hadn’t changed and was just as passionate. That her time here in the parallel word hadn’t hardened her or worse.

“But, how would I know if I was changing something important or not?” Rose asked, looking a little panicked. “What if I change something, and – and… we end up not going somewhere we’re supposed to go! Or the Doctor decides he wants to take someone else instead of me! What if I screw it all up?!”

“Rose, relax,” the TARDIS found herself laughing. Oh, she liked that. But seeing her Human so panicked over it was quite adorable. She had every faith that Rose would do this perfectly. “I’ll be with you in your head. I can help. Of course, you’ll have to figure most things out on your own, make your own choices. But I can send you mental nudges and hints. Besides, I’m not your only tool. We have a bond, you took on the entire Time Vortex… Haven’t you noticed it yet? That feeling that you know what will happen if you decide to do something.”

“Y-yeah,” she said, thinking back. “Almost like I’m… guessing what can happen before it does. Mum kept telling me I should get a lottery ticket. Course, Dad always told her that was silly since we’re kinda really incredibly rich here…”

“Yes, exactly. Our bond had started to change your mind before you left. Had you kept travelling, it would have changed even more.”

“Seriously?” The idea pulled her up short. So, what? She would have become… psychic?

“Oh yes!” The gleeful tone that the TARDIS used with her own voice was so reminiscent of the Doctor that it made Rose grin. “There’s a couple of other things too. The Doctor can’t know. I know you won’t like the idea, and I don’t overly like it either, but the Doctor can’t know about what you’re doing. The longer you can keep it from him, the better. I fear that if he finds out, he might end up changing things too drastically.”

“But… what if he figures it out? He’s not just going to not notice. It’s the Doctor.”

“Hmm, that is true. I suppose it might be alright, depending on what he finds out and when. Of course, I will try and hinder his attempts. Oh! One other thing!” Here, the TARDIS grinned one of Rose’s cheeky tongue in cheek smiles. “When he asks you to travel with him… turn him down again.”

Rose baulked. “Wait, what? Why?!”

“So that he asks twice, of course. He did it last time. He’s never asked anyone to travel with him twice like that before. Usually, he offers once with the occasional ‘you sure’, and that’s it. But he went back five minutes later and asked a second time. He wanted you to travel with him so badly, it’s no wonder he fell for you so quickly. He thinks about that a lot.”

“Oh.” Rose couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered madly about every time the TARDIS told her that the Doctor loved her, or mentioned how much he cared. It soothed like a balm, especially when she thought back to his cut off words on the beach. There were still times, even now, even being so sure what he was going to say, that she doubted he could ever love her back. She was only human, after all… But, no. She was more than that. Not just because of the TARDIS, she had always been more than just that.

Only, now she would be able to live well beyond human years since she was bonded to the TARDIS in a way that not even he was. Her eyes suddenly lit up. She knew that that was one of the only barriers that ever stopped them from becoming more. He’d practically admitted as much the time she’d met Sara Jane. She would live as long as the TARDIS!

“Hold on!” she gasped. “So, you die when the Doctor does?”

“Give or take a few years,” she replied with a nod.

“And I live as long as you do…”

“Yes.” Now the TARDIS was grinning, knowing that she had caught on.

“I can live as long as he will…”

“As long as everything goes alright and nothing happens to either of us, yes. You will.”

“…Oh my god, I’m going to live for hundreds of years!” she cried. She’d vaguely known this when the TARDIS told her, but the implications were now only just hitting her.

“You won’t age,’ the TARDIS assured her. “Not past a few more years anyway.” Then she finally seemed to notice the overwhelmed expression on Rose’s face. “I’m sorry. I had to bond us. It was the only way. We couldn’t lose you.”

“Do I look like I’m complaining?!” she cried, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up from her. “I just… Oh god. I think I just need time to adjust to it, yeah. It sounds… insane.”

“No more so than anything else you’ve seen since you met the Doctor.” She sounded confused by Rose’s bafflement.

“Yeah, but… nothing I considered impossible ever really happened to me, you know? Not like that, anyway. Or, at least, I didn’t think I had.”

“Oh, Rose Tyler, you have no idea-” The end of her sentence was cut off as she let out another sharp cry, doubling over with her arms curled around her middle in pain. Rose rushed to her immediately. It had been so long since that had last happened that she’d completely forgotten the TARDIS was in pain. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” the TARDIS gasped, sitting back up straight.

“You sure?” she asked, holding her steady. “What’s happening?”

“I believe… we are running out of time. I can’t hold this form much longer before it breaks back down into energy. We need to go now.”

“N-now? But what about my family?” Rose asked. “Won’t they wonder what happened? I can’t just not say goodbye.”

“It won’t matter,” the TARDIS said, trying for a small, reassuring smile, though it looked far more like a pained grimace. “We will be – hopefully be – completely cutting this reality, this timeline from existence. With any luck, you will never fall and never had the need to say goodbye to them at this point in time. And you will see Jackie and Mickey very soon. But we must go now. If I don’t get you back, we both die.”

Rose nodded firmly. Hearing those words, she imagined how devastated the Doctor would be without her or his beloved ship, and her already pretty firm resolve hardened. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it. I want my Doctor back.”

The TARDIS smiled tiredly. She could practically taste her Human’s excitement, and that gave her the energy to pull them both to their feet.

“Good. Now, just remember, when you get back, we won’t be linked physically like we are now. Not until you absorb the Time Vortex again. But we will still be linked mentally. We can do this.”

Rose nodded, and the TARDIS placed her hands on her temples. She closed her eyes like she was concentrating, and Rose felt a harsh jolt in her mind as if she had just been shoved off a cliff…

And then she was gone.

Author Note:

As seems to be the rule with my rewritten scenes, this chapter almost doubled in length. From 2,404 to 4,691 words (4 → 8 pages). I was really proud of this update. Not just in my writing skills, but also in how I explained things a little clearer and made it flow nicer.

The original can still be read on fanfiction.net if you are interested to see how it’s changed.

Chapter Index | First Chapter | Next Chapter >>

#history repeats #doctor who

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violetsdicaprio · 5 years

Text

Empowerment

-Part 1-

Tommy x Oc

Warnings: Violence, death, blood, swearing, alcohol, smoking and bad writing:))

Word count:

The Caldin’s where a mystery. Moving into Small Heath during the war, they had grew close with the Shelby women while the men where away. However, one person the boys could figure out was Myra Caldin, best friend of Ada Shelby. They had become inseparable and would only listen to each other...

“Ada! You’re barking mad.” Myra shouted over to her frantic friend.

“Well, what do you expect me to fuckin’ do? Sit here while Freddie gets himself fuckin’ killed.” She shouted back beginning to march out the house.

Myra scrambled up the stairs throwing on a black dress and covering it with a long coat. Charging down the stairs, she slipped on her heels and grabbed the gun on the side and ran , hopefully, in the right direction. She flicked the barrel open and threw some bullets in the dedicated slots before spinning the barrel and clicking it back shut in a few seconds. By the time she rounded a few dirty streets she could hear Ada’s voice.

“For fuck sake.” She groaned, seeming to be always fixing everyone else’s messes, but she wasn’t going to let one of the only people she trusted end up dead; was she.

“Move!” She heard Ada’s voice ring out into the ashy air. Swiftly following the sound of her voice through the deserted soot covered streets.

“What are you doing?!” Freddie asked as the baby started to wail. What was Ada thinking?

“I believe you boys call this ‘no-man’s land’.” She replied, spiking Myra’s ears. This wasn’t going to end well so she charged forward trying to protect her crazy best friend.

“Ada!” Freddie protested, with good reason.

“Shut up and listen.” The woman snapped back.

“Have you lost your mind?” He retorted.

“I said shut up.” She silenced him. While Myra rounded the street, the one that held the Garrison and was all too familiar, she could tell both parties where equally confused by her appearance, “Now most of you were in France, so you all know what happens next.” Although the message was good; Myra had too much experience and new this would provoke so kind of sour action. “I’ve got brothers and a husband here but you’ve all got somebody waiting for you. Now, I’m wearing black in preparation.i want you to look at me.” She demanded, as faint echoes of a babies cry could be heard whilst Myra crept forward. Nearing Kimber. “I want you all to look at me.” She added. “Who’ll be wearing black for you?” She questioned making a lot of the men hesitate and question themselves. “Think about them. Think about them right now. And fight if you want to but that baby ain’t moving anywhere.” Ada contined. ‘She’s lost it’ Myra thought. “And neither and am I.”

“She’s right you know. Why should all you men die?” He stated, pointing at the ones across from him. Myra smiles slightly, maybe it had gone right and she began to slip the gun into her pocket.

“It should be them who caused it. He frantically stated pulling out his gun, and Myra had not time to process before both screams and gunshots swirled into the air.

“Don’t shoot!” Freddie exclaimed, while other mumbles curled the group.

“Hold your guns up!” John shouted, and Tommy raised his gun to a giggling Kimber but before he could squeeze the trigger another shot ran through the air, alerting the men. It sound further off. Suddenly Billy went limp and a deathly silence ran through the street. His body slowly fell forward, oozing blood trickled down the back of his balding head.

“Enough!” The attention diverted from his body to the angel dressed in black that lowered her gun to reveal her identity as she stepped forward. Slightly shocking both sides with her capability. “Billy and Kimber fought this battle one on one. It’s over.” She declared as Billy’s men cautiously raised there guns at her. Then she looked at Tommy while still addressing everyone, “Go home to your families.” With a few mumbles and looks between the men. They began to disperse, passing her with their heads down. The Shelby clan didn’t say a word as Tommy removes his eye contact and it targeted his dead friend who laid cold in the pile of his own blood and rain water.

“Scudboat, Curly, pick him up.” Tommy ordered as Myra sauntered over to Ada to check if she was alright, feeling the eyes of JohnShelby burn into her. They got on really well as John was only a few months older than her and some aspects of personality was similar, he didn’t realise how similar till now.

“What the hell was you thinking!” Myra mumbles to the younger woman who stood staring blankly.

“I could ask you the same damn thing.” Ada shot back looking down at the revolver Myra held. She quickly slipped it into her pocket with a sigh. The Shelby’s left with Danny, not before Tommy locked eyes with her for one last time, but this time she looked away as Freddie approached the two women...

——————————————————————

She had left Ada and Freddie and scurried off to catch up with the men and when she entered she could hear Tommy’s terrorising screams and once she entered the room she new why. Jeremiah was trying to take out the bullet from the injury he has sustained from Billy Kimber. As she looked on she couldn’t help but intervene.

“Oh hell, you gonna damage his fuckin’ tissue” she rolled her eyes “pass it here.” She stated, Jeremiah instantly obeyed not have a clue what she was on about. Myra climbed next to Tommy with the tweezer type instrument in one hand, as she went in his painful screams changed to flinches and small grunts. Then she pulled it out, the small metal bullet doused in crimson liquid. “There.” She said softly and then placed it in a glass. Arthur patted the back of his head passing him a bottle of liquor.

“Have a drink.” He said, Arthur nodded towards her and she cleared of to get a bandage while he attacked his wound with a splash of alcohol. Once she was back, the room was vacant apart from Tommy who sat there, striking up a match.

“Could’ve been worse, you could of needed me to give you stitches after Jeremiah’s attempt.” She smiled lightly but he just looked at her with vacant eyes. Myra quickly cleared her throat and bowed her head. “Sorry.” She mumbled. Sitting by him, she began bandgeging him up in silence. Feeling as though she had burned down heaven; his stare never left her face. Analysing. Intaking. Discovering.

As she tied it off, across his shoulder, Myra gave him a warm smile. Never knowing how he truely felt, she was always alert around him. Feeling like she’d be ripped a part just by his simple glaze.

“Ab-” she began to speak but quickly cut off.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, buttoning up his shirt slightly as he stood to exit. “I’ll expect to see you at the Garrison later.” His deep brummie voice rung out, then he disappeared behind the timber doors. Myra let a large breath she didn’t realise she was holding...

For a second or more, she stared at the door in silence. Not realising her body begin to levitate in that direction, soon enough she was in the hallway. Traces of smoke still lingered in the mouldered entrance as she was swift to exit. The harsh tapping of her shoes echoed down the little hallway as though she was being dragged like a child. She knew exactly were she was going, quite familiar with the journey that she hadn’t dared to take in months.

There it was, the meadow of yellowing grass cluttered with some large and some small pieces of carved stone. She dragged herself past clusters of graves, unusual for the part of the cemetery; she found one freshly filled, yet there was no flowers that laid beside it. Looking down at her hands she placed a single pink rose on top of the mound and carried on with the bucay she picked up on the way.

Upon her approach she saw them, two graves laying by one another under the large oak tree. Seeming to be the only place riddled with life. Slowly she sat in front of the two, under the towering tree, it was her brothers. The unlucky souls, never making it back to their homeland. She split the bunch and placed them by the headstones. Despite the fact they were both dead, she came here to console herself like she went to them in life...

Myra had 6 brothers, all older than her, and a younger sister. Now she only had 3 siblings left. 2 brothers taken by the war, a brother taken before she was born and another dying a few years back after contracting a disease. Her family stayed strong, began making money, trying to break through the class boundaries similar to the Shelby’s. Her father was a fair man, trained her like the boys, respected her like one too. He was honest, good man. After all the trauma the family had experienced -not just from the loss of love ones- George Caldin was determined.

Maybe she spent far to long there. Maybe she should’ve never came. Maybe she was broken, not to mention a blubbering mess as she spoke to their graves as if they were here. Everyone believed she was tough -and she was- but sometimes she needed to let it all out. And not being here for months it had started to collect.

The darkness had seeped through the sky, making the stars appear behind the thick city smog. Moonlight dances on her face, illuminating her high points as she exited the field as a cart, with a few men she knew, passed with the body of Danny whiz-bang. Sighing deeply, remembering she missed the gathering at the Garrison.

Soon enough she was there, hearing a few faint whispers she pushed open the first set of doors but stopped when she heard Polly’s voice.

“There’ll be others” she spoke quietly as Myra listened in. She began to push the door open when she heard Tommy reply “To the others.” She stepped back and exited the Garrison, the small moment she shared with Thomas was nothing, but for some reason she wanted it to be more. Mean more. But he was set on Grace, Myra remembered, and by the way he looked at her, nothing would change that even if she broke his heart...

(A/n: So I’ve been wanting to do that whole Kimber scene forever and I Haven’t seen anyone do such a thing. Please let me know what you think! Future parts will hold all the answers to you questions ((: Also I wrote this at 3am so they may be a lot of spelling mistakes!)

#john shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #arthur shelby #finn shelby #michael gray #peaky blinder imagine #polly gray #thomas shelby #grace shelby #grace burgess #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby headcannon #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader

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groovyzombiellama · 5 years

Text

Reason I exist

(I got this idea after reading an imagine by aislinnstorm called Out in the Open, so you should go check it out and give her a follow, her writing is amazing <3)

Title: Reason I exist Requested? No. Plot: The day after Jax tells you that he asked the guys to vote against him at the Mayhem vote, you find out that you are expecting Jax’s child. And you are determined that you are not going to lose Jax, no matter the cost. Word count: 1827

---***---

You and Jax both didn’t bat an eye after he told you about his meeting with Mr Mayhem. The two of you spent the whole night coming to terms with the fact that he voluntarily told the MC to vote against him. You understood why he felt like he had to do that, but how the hell were you supposed to go on with your life without the most important person in it? The two of you spent the night crying in each other’s arms, and by 7am, Jax had fallen asleep a little, all the stress wore him out. But you stayed awake, caressing his face, and praying to god that you were dreaming. You decided to get up at around 8:30am and as soon as you entered the bathroom, you felt like you were going to throw up. This started around a week and a half ago, and you thought it was just because of something you ate and it just refuses to let you go, but Gemma thought it was something completely different.

And so she asked you to come see her when it happens again because she wants to take you to the doctor. And so, an hour later, you were in the waiting room, expecting the results from your analysis. And it was confirmed, you were pregnant with Jax’s child, and about to enter the third month of your pregnancy. You felt the whole room spin after hearing the news, and Gemma quickly grabbed your arm and laced it with her own, to help you stay standing, until she brought you over to a chair and helped you sit down. “What am I supposed to do now? Am I supposed to raise this child alone, without his father in his life?” So many questions filled your head, and you felt so lost and desperate with no possibility of answering them. Gemma tried her best in consoling you, but you didn’t even know how to tell Jax.

You asked Gemma to leave you to be alone for a while in a park near the hospital, because you needed to think. There is no way you are going to let your Old Man do this to himself. The day you got married to Jax, you promised to be there for him through everything and to save him even from himself, and that was what you were going to do. The Mayhem vote was taking place the next day, and you decided to stay silent about what happened, even though Jax was asking you questions all day long, after having witnessed another one of your nausea moments. But you assured him it was just something you ate that was still bugging you still, but you didn’t know if that was enough.

That night you stayed awake too, with your back turned to Jax in the beginning. And you could tell that he wasn’t sleeping either, because you could hear the rustle of the pillow when he would turn his head to look at you. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, and when he couldn’t take it anymore, he came closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and planting a kiss on your cheek. You closed your eyes, enjoying his touch as you always do, melting in his arms, but all of the kisses he was giving you felt like goodbye kisses and you were not ready for that to happen anytime soon. “Darlin’ please. Turn around, look at me. I know this is tough for you, it’s like that for me too, but please, don’t make it even harder.” Oh you were making it harder? For a moment you opened your mouth to throw him a comeback, but then you thought that it was for the best not to start a fight in the middle of the night, so you turned around and nestled yourself in Jax’s arms and closed your eyes, pretending to sleep. But you stayed awake all night, thinking of a way out of the vote.

You were pacing around the room as Jax was taking a shower and getting dressed in the morning. There are only two hours left until the vote, and the only way other than the Mayhem vote that could get Jax out of everything was helping him run away for a while, until everything settles, in your mind. Walking out of the bathroom, Jax clicked his tongue at your behavior and approached you, stopping you in your tracks and using his fingers, he lifted your chin up to look at him. “I love you so much baby. The time I’ve spent being your husband was the happiest time of my entire life. The birth of my sons, and marrying you, were the most precious moments of my life. You are the strongest woman I know. You will be able to handle all of this after I’m…” Jax felt a lump in his throat and stopped himself mid sentence, as a single tear fell from his eye. He did his best not to continue crying, as he wanted you to remember him by only the best.

But once again you were back to pacing in front of the door of the meeting room, where the vote was being held. Once you heard Jax say that it was time for the votes, you rushed through the door, tears already staining your cheeks. “Darlin’, what are you doing here?” Jax was surprised to see you enter in such a hurry, but he knew why you were there, but no matter how many times he wanted to explain to you that it was the only way out, you were not budging. And with more sentences coming out of your mouth, the more you were crying, and the more Jax was tearing up. “Are you out of your mind?! How do you expect me to continue living without you when you are the reason I exist? Everything I do, everything I work for is for you. For you and the kids. I wake up in the morning because I know I’ll wake up next to you, and I fight every obstacle that comes my way because I want to stay with you as much as possible. And you just want to abandon me, abandon the kids? I will not let you do that Teller! I will not look at your tattoo getting blacked out, and the patch stripped off your kutte. Where you go, I go. If you are going to meet Mr Mayhem, then so am I. You die, I die, because I can’t imagine a single second of my life without you in it.”

Jax frowned at your last few declarations. He couldn’t let you do what you were planning to, and tried to object, but you continued talking. “No, listen to me. You have always told me that I never think of myself, that I have never done something selfish. Well here I am, for the first time, being a selfish bitch, because I can’t live without you. You know me, all of you know me, and you know I’d do it, so don’t even try objecting.” You walked past Jax and looked at all of them seated at the table. Jax froze, unable to turn and look at you as you were talking to the others, as you were asking them what kind of family they were to Jax if they were ready to go with the plan of him dying. The fact that Jax had his back turned to you allowed you to get a point across as you held your hands to your stomach, all the boys taking notice and their eyes widening, and you asked them if they really were gonna go through with it. “Are you p-?” Happy began, but you gestured to him with your eyes that you didn’t want Jax to know yet and seeing Jax turn to see what he was about to say, he changed it to asking you if you were serious, to which you nodded. You turned back to Jax. “Make sure you inform me of the decision, so I can know how much time I have to finish some stuff from my bucket list.” And with that, you were out the door, leaving the men in silence. Every single man in that room knew how much you loved Jax and that nothing was going to stop you from following him into death, and so they all said that they are not voting, and that they will find another way to solve things. Jax rolled his eyes but then Chibs stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Brother, no matter what we said, there is one vote that outnumbers us all by millions.” Jax frowned at this sentence, but then Chibs spoke again. Chibs knew you didn’t want Jax to know about the baby yet, but he knew that only by telling him about it would he be able to have Jax reconsider. Hearing those words come out of his mouth had Jax wide eyed in surprise. “Your unborn child.” He couldn’t believe it, and he wondered why you didn’t tell him. He rushed to find you and stopped at the door of your shared bedroom, looking at the way the light from the window shines on your face for a moment before you turned your head to him, noticing him standing in the doorway. He came up to you, defeat in his eyes, and placed one of his hands on your belly. He asked you when you found out and how far along was the baby.

When you told him, he dropped to his knees in front of you, both of you crying, and he kissed your belly, leaning his forehead against it and talking to your unborn child. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry you have such an idiot as your father. You still haven’t even developed properly yet and you managed to save your father’s life. Thank you for reminding me that like your mother said, you, your brothers and your mother are the reason I exist. I’ll never apologise enough for forgetting that.” He placed another kiss on your belly and you got down to your knees in front of him and engulfed him in your arms as you were both trying to calm down. Jax assured you that meeting Mr Mayhem is officially off the table, and after leading you to bed so that you could rest a little, he promised to find another way with the guys as soon as possible. You clutched onto him, knowing that the other way might mean him leaving across the border for a long time, so you wanted to spend as much time with him as you could until then. You would support and overcome anything, anything but meeting Mr Mayhem. And you thanked god you didn’t have to.

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I was in tears after this idea came to me, and I continued crying as I was writing it. I haven’t seen SOA, so I don’t know in what episode does Gemma die, but in this imagine both her and Jax stay alive :)

I hope you like it, and let me know, I love hearing your comments :)

#jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jax #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagines #juice imagine #juice x reader #tig imagine #tig x reader #happy imagine #happy x reader #SOA #SOA imagine #chibs imagine #chibs x reader #opie imagine #opie x reader

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starshollowgal · 5 years

Text

The Last Flower

This is a short story I had written. I hope you like it.

Maple Tree Glade, Territory of Connecticut ~ 1761

The hunting moon had arisen. But for Alice Munro, it was commonly known as the month of September, and September implied two things: it was time to harvest the crops, and Uncas would shortly be leaving for the next six weeks. The time of year had come once more when, Uncas, would depart with his father and brother to collect their furs and pelts, and take them to the nearest trading post to sell. From there, they would purchase the much-needed supplies for the approaching winter before returning home. Over the course of the journey, they would traverse nearly a hundred and fifty miles on foot, mostly through hostile territory, and would be sleeping out in the open the entire time. Alice disliked the thought of being separated from Uncas for such a lengthy period. She had been permitted to accompany them once on such a trip, saying she could help to skin and clean the animals they trapped. However, after realizing her presence not only slowed them down, because she couldn't keep up, but also because they had to halt several times for her to rest, which put all of them in great danger. Therefore ever since, Alice had henceforth vowed she would never undertake such a journey again.

Well, at least Cora would come to stay with her while Uncas was away.

Standing on the wooden steps outside the small log cabin Uncas had built for her, Alice leaned against the oak post and looked to the forest, which Uncas had moments ago disappeared through. She admired the transition from vibrant greens to hues of beautiful red and orange, just like the color of the sun. She loved the beauty the season of fall exhibited. Uncas had long ago told her Autumn represented life and death. The old year dying with the falling of the leaves, and the new year being born with the gathering of the harvest. Alice considered his explanation to be beautiful and poetic.

The year was 1761. The four years which had passed would find Alice Munro much changed since her arrival to this strange land in August of 1757. She had transformed from the timid English rose into a true woman of the frontier. She cooked, cleaned, helped plow the fields and tended to her beloved garden. Alice was confident, daring, bold, and strong-willed. Yes, Alice had changed much in those four short years. Even her proud, fine English friends wouldn't recognize her - but Alice didn't care, she had no intentions of ever setting foot on English soil ever again. The frontier was her home now, and she was happy here, happier then she had ever been before.

Since the battle between Uncas and Magua on Promontory cliff four years ago, a fight Uncas thankfully won, Alice never left his side. Even when Cora returned to England, to settle their father's estate and then promptly return, she refused the invite to go with her, stating she wanted to remain with Uncas; and stay she did. Over the course of the following months, Alice could often be found sitting, with Uncas, under the maple tree in the same clearing where they eventually built their cabin. They would spend hours talking, sometimes even into the late hours of the night, sharing stories of their families and childhood. Hearing him tell of his first hunt, excited Alice in such a way that she couldn't describe. His stories were like the adventures she had spent so much of her childhood reading. They were simply thrilling. As the couple grew in their knowledge of the other, so did their love: and when Cora returned three months later, the couple married the following December.

Alice smiled to herself as she fingered the simple gold ring on her left hand. The exchanging of wedding rings was a practice commonly observed only among white people; but Uncas insisted she should have one as well, despite her objections that she didn't need one. The argument was of no avail, for Uncas had his way in the end, and bought her a gold wedding band soon after. Later he would lament for not having bought her a jeweled ring, to which Alice would answer she wouldn't want any other ring, then the one he had given her. To say they were deeply in love with each other was an understatement in Alice's mind. She loved Uncas with every part of her body and every fiber of her soul, as he loved her in the same manner. Truly, she never remembered a happier time in her life.

As dusk began to fall, Alice turned and went back into the house where Cora sat playing with her son and daughter. The young girl of twenty-one years smiled at the sight of her sister playing with the little boy of two. Edmund Michael Poe looked exactly like his father, long brown hair, sharp refined features and piercing green eyes. Edmund's twin sister, Margaret Ann, looked more like her mother with each passing day. The only feature separating them was her hair. Where Cora had raven black tresses, Margaret's seemed to take on more of a golden hue. A memento from Cora and Alice's mother no doubt. A slight sentiment of envy rang through Alice. She knew it was wrong of her, but she couldn't help it. Alice had been married for four years, nearly a year longer than her sister, and she still hadn't been blessed with a child. Whereas Cora had two beautiful children, with another on the way. She knew that Uncas wanted children, and so did she. The two pregnancies Alice had, sadly both ended in miscarriages, one of which nearly claimed her life. It broke both of their hearts, knowing their unborn children had died, but Uncas held onto the hope that they would one day, be blessed with a child of their own. However, since then, she had been unable to conceive. Alice had lost all hope of becoming a mother, and she knew Uncas was beginning to lose faith as well.

"Are you all right?" Cora asked, noticing her sister was unusually quiet.

Awareness dawned on Alice's face as she went over and sat on her rocking chair in front of the fire. "I am fine, Cora. Just a little tired, that is all." She answered. Picking up the dark blue calico dress she was making for herself, she began to work on the hem.

Cora watched her sister closely while she worked diligently on the article of clothing. She was surprised at how easily Alice had taken to making her own clothes - especially since she was accustomed to having all her dresses made for her, and of the finest materials as well. Silk, brocade, satin and velvet, were the fabrics which once lined their wardrobes, was now replaced with simple cotton, linen and calico. The two sisters no longer donned the fine clothes and jewels as they were so used too. In fact, Alice found that she quite enjoyed the liberty from the restrictive corsets she was made to wear. She preferred the simple dresses she had learned to make for herself over the years.

"The dress looks very nice," Cora said.

"Thank you! I have enough fabric left to make a matching shirt for Uncas. I think he will simply look dashing in dark blue. Don't you?"

"Yes, he certainly will," she answered gayly. Alice continued on with her work in silence. But Cora's keen senses could tell there was something troubling her deeply, and she knew Alice wouldn't tell her what it was of her own volition.

"What's troubling you, Alice? You forget I can tell when something is wrong." She didn't answer. "Please tell me, my dear. Perhaps I may be able to help."

Alice paused her work and expelled a deep sigh. "Oh Cora, it is not as simple as that. I fear you shan't be able to help remedy what ails me."

Rising from her place on the floor, Cora came over and rested a hand on Alice's knees. "Oh, sweet girl, tell me what's bothering you."

She set her work down on the nearby table and thought for a long moment. 'Would Cora truly be able to help? Would she truly understand? I doubt it,' Alice said to herself. If only it was a simple matter and not one of jealousy.

"The truth is, Cora," she began, "that I envy you."

"Envy me? Why do you envy me?" Cora asked with wide eyes at her sister's sudden confession. 'Why would Alice be jealous of me?' she thought.

Alice looked at her sister and felt guilty for having ever said what she did. She felt the guilt the moment her lips parted to speak. But now Cora presented her with a question and it would only be right to answer. "Because you have been so blessed, where I have not."

Cora came closer and sat next to her sister. She placed a loving arm around her shoulders and thought for a very long moment before speaking. "Dear sweet Alice. You too have been blessed. Do you not see all there is to be thankful for? You have a beautiful home, health, and a man who adores you with every breath in his body. What is it I possess that you don't?"

She looked to her sister, tears beginning to whale in her eyes. "Children," she said. "You have children, and I have yet to be so graced." Tears fell freely down her cheeks, each leaving a trail in their wake. Cora pulled her closer and hugged her tightly.

"Oh, Cora!" she cried, "what am I to do? Uncas wanted children so badly, and I am unable to give him any. I know his father wants him to carry on the Mohican bloodline, and if I'm unable to conceive, then he may leave me. I don't want to lose him, Cora. I can't."

Cora held her sister close, consoling her as best she could. She now understood why Alice always became silent and withdrawn when the twins were present. It wasn't she didn't love them, she adored them. But Alice felt a sharp sting of pain when reminded of her two miscarriages. The deaths of her babies had taken a great toll on her spirit, even though she carried it in her stride. Cora sincerely understood Alice's pain. To lose a loved one, especially a child, is heartbreaking. The innocents' deaths affected everyone, but none more so than Uncas and Alice.

"My dear girl, it'll be alright. It'll be alright." She said.

"No, it won't."

Cora shifted away and locked her eyes on Alice's. "Listen to me, Alice, I know you're heartbroken, and I know Uncas is too. But listen, hope is not lost, not yet. It never truly is. One day, you and Uncas will sit out there on the steps of your cabin, watching your little ones play and climb the maple tree that both of you so love. I promise."

Alice wanted to believe her. She really did. She wanted the hope, faith, the reassurance, but all of that just seemed lost. Cora said she understood, but she didn't know all that had transpired in the previous months. Alice blamed herself for everything. All of it. The miscarriages. The inability to conceive a child. The growing distance between her and Uncas. Alice ladened all of it onto herself. She was plagued by their ghosts day and night. If only she had listened to Uncas, maybe then things would have been different. But her stubborn nature to help Uncas on that hot summer day in June got the better of her. She wanted to be of use. Wanted to work side by side with her husband. If only she had listened...

- June 1760 -

She had awoken that day with sharp pains shooting up her back and legs, and an unspeakable pressure in her abdomen. But the pains subsided just as quickly as it had appeared, so Alice thought little of it when she got dressed that morning. It was going to be a long hot day, Uncas had said so the night before, and she never remembered him being wrong when it came to the weather. Not once.

Alice looked over to where her husband still lay asleep on his side of the bed and smiled. He always looked so peaceful when he slept. Alice made it a habit to get up before he did, just so she could cook his breakfast.

On impulse she went over and brushed a stray lock of hair from his face, letting the back of her fingers glide across his cheek as she did. She smiled again, thinking about how lucky she counted herself to have such a man as Uncas for her partner in life. He had done so much for her. Given her everything. Alice now looked around their bedroom. It was modest and humble but she didn't mind.

Spread out across the hard wooden floor was an Elks hide, which Uncas had shot the Spring following Promontory. In the corner to the right of the East window that looked towards the lake, mountains, and fields, was a fireplace, a true luxury for most. Beside the window, sat two rocking chairs, which Chingachgook and Nathaniel had carved for them as a wedding gift. There were many evenings when the couple would sit there in the glow of the warm fire, and look out upon the lake. Other times too, they would spend their nights reading a novel Uncas had bought for Alice from the traveling pedlar, Thomas Wright, or just Old Tom for short. He would pass by their farm every few weeks or so to trade and bring them the latest news from the surrounding settlements. Situated between the West facing windows, looking out to the maple tree, sat their bed with its simple feather mattress and quilted coverlet. The quilt previously mentioned, had been made by Alice's mother during her long confinement in bed with tuberculosis. Cora had brought it back from her final expedition to England and gave it to Alice, knowing she would want it as a memento from their late mother. And Alice treasured it, as though it were made the finest silk and not from old cotton patches.

True, it was not Portman Square. It was better.

Outside a lark sang it's morning tune far off in the maple tree. Drawn back from her thoughts, Alice leaned down and placed a feather-light kiss on Uncas's cheek before rising to leave. She felt a hand take hold of her wrist and stop her. Looking down, she saw Uncas smiling back to her, his eyes now wide open. "What did I tell you about waking at the crack of dawn?" He asked in a groggy voice.

Alice sat down on the edge of the bed as he rolled over and kissed her. "I know. But I wanted to prepare your breakfast. We have a long day ahead in store for us." She said, referring to the plowing they were going to do to prepare for planting the following week.

"No, I have a long day ahead of me. You must stay inside and rest." Uncas informed his wife firmly. His hands traveled to her extended belly where their child grew inside her. "You must rest, Alice. Remember what the doctor said?"

She huffed and crossed her arms, plastering a vexed expression on her face. "O pish posh! what does that doctor know? He's not a woman. He's a greedy arrogant fool, who looks down on you and is reluctant to attend to me. I believe he would turn me away from his door if it weren't for one thing. Money. Doctor Ashford is nothing more than a pompous old windbag!"

Uncas let out a soft laugh. "But he is a doctor none the less." He pecked her on the cheek before rising and pulling on his shirt and buckskin leggings. Alice remained sitting with her arms crossed. "Please pet, don't exert yourself. I will handle the work today. Hawkeye and nooch are coming to help, and so is Cora and the children."

"Well, I may not be allowed to help you plow, but I can at least work in the garden," she said stubbornly. "There's weeding to be done if we are to plant vegetables and fruit before August."

"No, I will tend to the garden as well."

Alice shot him an irritated look but gave in. There was no point arguing about it. "Alright!" she agreed, releasing an exaggerated sigh.

Uncas flashed her a smile as he finished fastening the wampum belt about his waist and tucked his knife and sheath into it. He came over to where she still sat and leaned down, gently pressing his lips against hers. He then asked with a wide grin: "Now, how about that breakfast?"

The day wore on slowly. By noon Uncas, with the assistance of Nathaniel, had plowed most of the south field. Despite the adventurous life he once led, Uncas took to being a farm owner quickly. It was easy to see that he enjoyed it immensely. As for Nathaniel and Cora, they lived just a little ways down the path and shared in the work and care of the farm. Both brothers worked the land together and shared the spoils they reaped each year. Chingachgook, after much consideration, settled into a peaceful life with Cora and Nathaniel, while also making frequent visits to his son and daughter-in-law. All in all, life seemed perfect for everyone. Everyone but Alice that was.

Alice watched the hard laborers from her bedroom window. She felt so useless, sitting indoors knitting a blanket for her baby, which would not be born for another four months. She wanted to help, and that made her angry. Angry at Uncas, angry at herself. Nathaniel, who was carrying his daughter on his back, urged the horses onward further up the field. Even Cora was out there being of use. With her son secured in a papoose on her back, she sauntered about the field gathering rocks and weeds and tossing them out of the way. Why couldn't Alice help as well? It wasn't fair in the girl's mind. None of it was. She looked back down at her near finished knitting project and tossed it into the basket on her lap.

"I'll be damned if I have to sit here another moment!" she said to herself. "I'm going out there and at least do something that is of use. Even if it is picking wild berries for supper!"

With that, she tossed the basket on the floor, got up from her seat, and walked out into the open air and down the path into the woods. Well, at least she would get some exercise in, as well as peace and quiet away from her doting family. Ever since the announcement was made that she was expecting, Alice had been barely allowed to pour herself a glass of water. Ever since she had this never ending feeling of slothfulness, and she hated it. So the chance to take a walk alone without the disturbance of others was a welcome change. Alice reveled in the peacefulness of nature. Her hand began to softly rub her protruding belly. She hummed an old Scottish lullaby her mother used to sing to her, and one she planned to sing to her baby when he or she was born. Alice longed for a son; a strong little Mohican, just like his father. But Uncas wanted a daughter with golden hair like her mother. If only he possessed Alice's keen motherly intuition. They would have a son, of that she was certain.

She had barely traversed a half mile when her eyes spotted their prize. There, down by the creek, was the biggest huckleberry bush she had ever seen, covered in thousands of juicy berries just waiting to be picked. Alice came closer and took in the aroma of the wildflowers surrounding the shrub covered in little nuggets of black gold. Reaching out she picked one of the juicy berries from among the thorns and ate it, savoring its sweetness. She filled her basket, filled it to the brim. She thought about how happy Uncas would be when she baked him a pie from her newly acquired treasure.

As she neared the house, a sudden, stabbing pain rang through Alice's slender frame, exactly like the one she experienced that morning. It felt like a white hot knife was being pushed into her belly. A cry stifled in her throat, tangling with her breath and causing her to reach for the nearest tree for support. When the ache subsided, she continued walking back to the glade. 'Just a few more steps,' she told herself nearing the border of the forest. 'Just a few more.'

Tightly she clung to a tree as another excruciating pain radiated through her body. Her eyes traveled downwards and saw blood beginning to pool on the soft earth. Alice's heart nearly stopped beating at the thought of her child in danger.

"Uncas!" she screamed out, falling to her knees as another stabbing sensation rang through her. "Uncas! Someone help! Help! Uncas!"

Halting his work, the young Mohican's warrior senses seemed to hear the call of distress before it was even sounded. Darting in the direction where the sound of his wife's voice had come, Uncas, followed by his brother and father, found Alice lying on the ground, her skirts drenched in blood. Uncas mirrored the look of terror on her face as he scooped her into his arms and ran back to the house...

Present day

Alice lost the baby. Stress. That's what the doctor said it was. Stress which brought on her sudden travail. But Alice knew that it wasn't so. Once again, Dr. Ashford was wrong. He had also said it was miraculous that Alice survived, considering the great amount of blood she lost. The girl's entire body was racked with pain and weakness. Yet none of that could be compared to the pain of her soul.

As she had predicted, it was a boy. She was allowed to see him before they wrapped him up to be buried. He was beautiful. Although only five months developed, Alice could see that he would've indeed taken after his father in appearance. Wisps of dark hair were on his head and his skin already bore a dark complexion. Alice held him and kissed him and cried for him. Her little boy would never see the faces of the parents who were so anxious to meet him. Never hear his mothers voice when she sang him the Scottish lullabies she had learned from her mother. Her little boy.

Fresh tears streaked Alice's face at the remembrance of her little son buried in the field of wildflowers by the creek. He didn't even have a name. Only a little wooden cross, on which a single feather was tied, marked the grave. She looked back to her sister still seated next to her. Alice realized there was no point telling her about the struggles between her and Uncas. It wouldn't be right to burden her with her problems. Instead, she smiled and rested her hand atop her sisters.

"Thank you, Cora! I hope you're right." The corner of her sister's lips curved upwards into a soft, reassuring smile. "I'm very tired. I think I'll retire. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight!" Cora said watching Alice's figure disappear down the hall and into her room.

Little did Alice know that her sister was indeed correct about her earlier prediction. Soon, she too would be sitting happily watching children play by the old maple tree.

The End

#last of the mohicans #uncas and alice #uncas #alice and uncas #alice munro #cora munro #hawkeye #Chingachgook #eric schweig #jodhi may #french and indian war #native american #indian #love #fanfiction #LOTM #Uncas and Alice AU #Uncas and Alice fanfiction

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tundrainafrica · 6 years

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Somewhere Between Life and Death (Chapter 7)

Summary: Dia de los Muertos isn’t the only day the dead can visit the living. Miguel is reunited with Hector, Imelda and his other relatives from the other side but in one of the worst ways possible and he finds himself caught in a struggle between life and death.

Note: Reposted from ao3 and fanfic, same name, same author. I just needed to post some coco content I made on my own on Tumblr because I will definitely not be able to contribute in the arts side.Post canon, sickfic, expect hurt comfort, loads of angst, kidnappings. Miguel has a very long and very fatal near death experience basically.

You can follow this fic on tumblr under the tag TundrainAfrica

Link to: Chapter 1- Chapter 2- Chapter 3-Chapter 4-Chapter 5-Chapter 6

Chapter 7: Crossings

Maybe it was because of the shock. Maybe it was because of the pain. Maybe it was because of the disappointment.

He couldn't tell exactly why but as he listened to Hector and Imelda stories about their everyday life in the Land of the Dead, he knew he wasn't feeling as excited or interested as he had expected to be when he did finally meet them again.

He had dreamt of seeing Hector, Imelda, Mama Coco and everyone else for a long time and silently scolded himself for not being genuinely interested when Imelda told him about how everyone requested Hector played Remember Me during that years sunrise spectacular, how they had stolen to some private space and Hector played it for his daughter Coco instead. He felt guilty for not feeling relieved when they told him that Mama Coco was doing fine and she was actually very happy being able to once again dance after having spent years in a wheelchair and more years, hiding the urge to dance from her family.

Maybe if he was a bit more into the conversation he would have asked questions like why Mama Coco wasn't there as well or what they were doing there in the first place. His replies to their many stories though felt and sounded automatic. The laugh he made when Imelda told Miguel about when they performed together in the plaza was robotic, even when she told him about Tia Victoria who had tried to dance along but having grown up with no music and sense of rhythm had spectacularly failed or about the crash course on dancing Mama Coco had given Tia Victoria during the Sunrise Spectacular.

Imelda and Hector had noticed that he wasn't as excited to see them and Miguel knew that. He wasn't asking the questions he himself thought he would have asked if he saw them again. They had asked him about his life, how was the family, how was everyone coping with the lifting of the music ban, more importantly, how was everyone after Mama Coco died. He had tried his best to sound enthusiastic but in the end, his replies were one worded and half hearted. They had tried to ask follow up questions but his lack of enthusiasm had become infectious.

His ancestors had subdued their gestures and tones. There was a point where Hector was talking about how he had given Coco the biggest hug when she finally arrived in the land of the dead. Miguel had expected him to hold his hands outstretched but he had limited himself to moving his hands in tune with his words. What made him feel a little worse was the gradual yet apparent loss of enthusiasm in his voice. Imelda as well had refrained from holding Miguel and the latter could see it in the way that every now and then she would put her hands in front of him as if she wanted to place them on his shoulders or his head only to pull back as if she sensed the discomfort and the tension and realized it.

Miguel had noticed those small movements and knew he had to brush away his discomfort, ask questions, cherish this time he had with them but how he felt wasn't something he could easily brush away, it felt like an elephant in the room that has been there from the start, impossible to kick out.

There was one way though. It took Miguel a few minutes and some more time half heartedly listening to Hector's stories to realize that there was one question that he wanted to ask. It may kick the elephant out but it felt risky.

Why can't you take me now? He really wanted to ask. It sounded inappropriate though. He remembered the week after Mama Coco had just died. He had wanted to ask Mama Elena what they were going to do with her rocking chair or her things but it sounded insensitive. That time, there was no reason to be insensitive, no one was mourning, no one was dying yet but that one question felt almost taboo.

“Miguel, you’ve been quiet.” Imelda commented. The wording may have been wrong but the timing was definitely wrong. Miguel was in the middle of ransacking his brain for the right words and dealing with the guilt of not feeling happy to see them. When Imelda had finally commented on his discomfort, the feelings he had denied since a while ago became real and Miguel felt like he was at fault, he was a bad person for not being happy to see them.

It felt like she was blaming him. It was almost instinct how his mind had decided to play victim. Hector and Imelda were selfish. They wanted him to stay, even when his life wouldn't amount to anything, when he could live his whole life only half the human he was. They wanted to deprive them of that painless nirvana in the land of the dead and were only mocking him through the stories they were telling him. You're going to have to go through hell before you get to join us.

“Hey, are you okay?” Hector asked, stopping his story midway. “I thought you’d be happy to see us.” He joked, a horrible attempt to mask his worry.

“No. I'm not.” He managed to say. For some reason, admitting just that felt even just a bit liberating but what else could he say after that?

“I know what happened is a bit stressful for you. This in between dimension is scary but this isn’t how…”Imelda had tried to put her arm around Miguel. That only helped to agitate the boy a little more.

This isn’t how it's supposed to go? This isn’t how I'm supposed to die? What was supposed to happen then? You won't help me get out of this?

Imelda’s tone was comforting, consoling. It was as if he was helpless as if there was nothing else she could do to help him. Or she didn't want to. They didn't want to.

“Do you even want to help me?” Miguel violently brushed his great great grandmother's comforting hand away from his shoulder. “All you two have been talking about since a while ago is how good you've been having it in the Land of the Dead. No progress. No help. You haven't even tried to get me out of this.”

“Believe me Miguel. We’re trying. It’s not as easy as---” She pressed.

“Take me back to the land of the dead. I don't wanna go back to Santa Cecilia… I want to die.”

Imelda instinctively widened her eyes surprised then narrowed her eyes soon after. In most cases, he would have cowered at seeing his great great grandmother narrow her eyes like that. With his whole body shaking in anger, all it was doing was making him more angry. She looked accusing as if it was his fault he didn't want to go back. She looked like she was going to disagree with him, maybe even gang up on him with Hector. “Do you understand what you're saying?”

“Hey hey… Mijo… what are you thinking? You said it during Dia de los Muertos that you wanted to be a musician and perform in many places. You can't do it dead.” Hector said, straining to keep his tone lively. He handed the guitar to Miguel.

“I can be a musician in the land of the dead. I don't have to do it in Santa Cecilia. No body to limit me, I won't be tired, I won't need to sleep, go to the bathroom. I'll just be playing music.” Miguel explained as he grabbed the guitar and played a few random tabs for emphasis.

Hector flinched and Miguel realized that he had plucked the strings on the guitar too hard.

“Miguel… Dying and being in the land of the dead isn't just playing music all the day long. You lose things when you cross. When you go there, there's no turning back.” Hector explained patiently. “There are people you'll leave behind, opportunities you could have had. Also It's not like this is a once in a lifetime choice. Eventually you're all going to end up in the land of the dead anyway. You should enjoy your life on earth for what it is first.”

“How can you enjoy life stuck in a body that needs to eat, sleep. That gets sick, feels pain…” Miguel argued. “When you're in the land of the dead, you never get sick… when you fall, you can get back together within seconds.

“Because life isn’t all about that mijo, there are experienced, challenges, there are people to meet, a family to live for. Your parents must be worried about you. Baby Coco is going to need her big brother.” Imelda added. She put her hands on Miguel's shoulders.

I survived without a big brother. Miguel thought to himself as he twisted away from Imelda’s grip. Coco had Prima Abel, prima Rosa, Benny and Manny. She had a mother and a father. What would one less brother do?. “Mama and papa can always make another child if they're feeling lonely. It's not too hard.” Miguel echoed Rodrigo’s words. He looked at Mama Imelda as he said it. He watched as her jaws dropped. She looked like she was just punched in the face.

Hector was the one who went in between them with that comment. “I can't believe I'm hearing this from you. Only a few months ago, you wrote a song about how much you love your family and now you're comparing having a child to working some sort of factory job?”

“What do you know?” Don't tell me you believed that when you're the one who left your family just like that. He wanted to add but he stopped himself at the last minute.

“Making and raising a child is not at all like making another pair of shoes!” He said without stopping to acknowledge Miguel's question.Hector had bent over as if he wanted to listen closely to whatever explanation, Miguel had about how he felt that way. Miguel did not see good intentions though. At that moment, the bending of his body and the fact that he had slowed his speech down, felt almost demeaning and Miguel's anger only grew. They're thinking I'm stupid. They wouldn't listen to me because to them, I'm a kid, I don't know better. It wasn't anything new. Prima Abel and Prima Rosa were the same when he was growing up. They always made fun of him for being slow when they played in the forest. When they started working in the shoe shop, they thought they were better and smarter, demeaning him for being too young to work in the workshop. As he thought about it, he realized that his cousins were only the tip of the iceberg. His parents had kept him out of many conversations because they were having “adult talks.” For a long time, his family had scolded him for hanging out in the mariachi plaza or even just listening to simple music maybe because they were smarter, naturally better people and according to them, he didn't know better. The worst though was the way his parents had stood in silence, no, his whole family had stood in silence as he was shamed by his abuelita and she had destroyed the guitar that he spent months putting together. Things had gotten better since the music ban but his heart still ached as he recalled that last scene and it only fed the anger inside him. Why would he want to go back to a family like that, a family who destroyed things he worked hard to create, a family who watched silently as he was tormented? He almost felt stupid for writing a love song for a family like that, what was he thinking. Papa Hector was no better or he may have even been worse. He was getting mad at Miguel for treating his family like that yet, long ago he had the gall to leave his own family. The hypocrisy of it all only fueled the anger inside him.

That one comment which he had stopped himself from saying was at the tip of his tongue and before he could stop himself, he had blurted it out.“What do you know about raising children? You didn't even raise your own!”

“Miguel!” Imelda’s voice rang out and Miguel jumped in surprise. That was the first time he had heard her voice like that, a distinct mix of hurt, stress, anger and surprise.

Miguel was trembling in anger. He watched Hector's face change from one for anger to shame. If he wasn't a skeleton, Miguel could have sworn he would have seen tears in his eyes.

“You’re right, I don't know anything about raising children. Coco was very young when I left, I didn't see her grow up, wasn't with her when she turned 15, when she got married.I tried to go home but ended up trapped in the land of the dead against my will. I was alone. I missed my wife, I missed my daughter. I was wandering while my family must have thought I abandoned them. You know , compared to me, you have a choice. A choice I was never given. You have a choice not to wander through the streets in the land of the dead like I did, a choice to be with your family, the people you love and you're taking it for granted because you don't want to live within the limits of a life and a body. When I first died. The last thing I was thinking about was how good it felt to not get sick. That's nothing Miguel. I can't even describe how much I regretted even leaving in the first place, how lonely I felt. How the regret, sadness---”Hector stopped, as if he ran out of words. I don't know how it feels to raise a child but I know how painful it is to abandon and to be abandoned by your family… That’s why, I may not know how it feels to raise a child and for the longest time, I may have known how it felt to have a family but I’ve experienced enough to know what you’re thinking is wrong. Hate me if you want Miguel but I won’t take you back.” Hector looked like he wanted to say more but stopped himself. “I need some time to think.” He walked out of the room, dragging his legs as if they were weights

Imelda followed him silently with her gaze before looking back at Miguel, her face a mixture of hurt and anger. “Say what you want, I won’t take you back either. You have no idea what you’re asking for mijo.”

“He’s right. You guys are selfish. You don’t know how it feels to be lying there in a hospital bed, not being able to breathe, to move. I haven’t felt this good in so long and you want to take that away from me?” As he imagined what he said, he couldn’t help but feel more adamant about returning to his body. He felt good, he could move freely, play the guitar, talk without running out of breath, without feeling a pounding pain but it’s going to all change if he goes back. He’s going to be in pain. Why would anyone make a decision to hurt themselves? It just wasn’t natural.

“Because they want someone else to be happy. Humans do this for the people they love all the time mijo.”

Miguel looked up in surprise when he realized he had accidentally said his thoughts out loud.

“Why do you think mothers give birth? Why do you think I gave up music?” Why do---”

As his family started to gang up on him though, he knew he had to be strong for himself “Well when you banned music, it didn’t just hurt yourself. You hurt me and Mama Coco too. How can you say you did it for love, when your decision just hurt us anyway?”

Miguel had looked away even before he finished his sentence. There was a part of him screaming at the back of his mind as he fought with his great great grandparents, telling him to apologize, to listen and then and there that part was taking over. He didn’t think it was possible but he felt a quiver in his lips, a sign of vulnerability and that wasn’t something he wanted to show. That might even spell the difference between them forcing him back into his body or not. He ran out of the room.

Rodrigo, wherever you are, please help me. I don’t wanna go back. He had said that last part with so much conviction. Maybe, he was trying to convince himself that he did not want to go back. He brushed that thought away and focused on the task at hand. He had to find Rodrigo. He remembered that Hector had left and might still be around. He still found himself running carelessly in the hallways, a part of him hoping Hector would run into him and talk him out of it. He didn’t run into him. He didn’t even remember his Mama Imelda calling out to him as he ran out of the room. Those two things he noted, only gave him motivation to run faster. Maybe it was out of spite. Maybe it was determination to still run into Hector.

He continued running, the hospital doors started to go by faster and faster. He went down a few stairs and up a few. How do I cross? Miguel was utterly lost. The word echoed inside his head and that reminded him. He had ran too fast that it was only after running countless corridors and staircases did he realize he had lost his guitar too. He must have dropped it somewhere.

He slowed down, ready to retrace his steps only to be pulled into one of the many rooms by something or someone.

“I was worried about you.”

It wasn’t Hector’s voice.

“You just disappeared and I woke up…” Miguel said, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room.

He could make out the familiar shape of the Rodrigo’s head and the tiny movement of its contours as he shook his head.

“Thank god you’re safe though. I thought you would have fallen for an illusion.”

“Illusion?” Miguel frowned. The only notable thing he had seen was Papa Hector and Mama Imelda. Meeting those two had looked real. The music Hector played sounded real. The guitar he had plucked had felt real.

“I didn’t mean to leave you alone but I ended up caught in my own illusion as well. This dimension between life and death is dangerous.”

“Wait, how is it dangerous?” Miguel asked. He had imagined monsters and rogue alebrijes when Rodrigo said the word dangerous. As he recalled his whole experience though, he knew he didn’t see any.

Rodrigo shook his head. “You know, the most dangerous things are the ones that don’t even look dangerous. I don’t want you falling for anything so I’ll tell you now. There are people who embrace death and there are people who embrace life. The unlucky souls who want to go back to their body and continuing living their life, even when their body is to sick, reject death’s invitation. They become angry spirits, go insane from trying to hold on to their body, to their life. They get jealous of those who can still go back to their body and those who can still cross after missing their own chance and create illusions to keep them here in this in between because you know, misery loves company. Unless they’ve been here for a long time like me, people tend to fall for these many illusions.”

That’s what it was… Miguel thought to himself. They had wanted him to stay, made him feel guilty for wanting to leave and for a while it had worked. He shivered as he remembered how realistic that illusion was and silently thanked his own pride and convictions for giving himself the courage to reject it. Of course, the real Mama Imelda and Papa Hector would have gladly welcomed me to the Land of the Dead.

“Don’t worry, usually someone from the land of the dead is sent here to guide the lost spirits.”

“Like an alebrije?” Miguel remembered Dante and only then did he realized how much he missed Dante and how much he needed him then and there.

“Alebrijes can’t enter this in between, but you can say they’re something like that… In America, they’re called the Grim reaper. In Mexico, they’re called Santa Muerte. Universally, they’re called Death. It’s the same job, they’re assigned to an area where lost spirits usually sprout up, war zones, car pile ups, hospitals and make sure the souls are able to cross safely. Funny though, the one here disappeared a few days ago. We got along well, he wasn’t authorized to let me cross but he said he’d keep me company until I can.”

“Wait, so how can we cross without him? ”

“The truth is, I knew how to cross. I just needed to find the right companion.” He held Miguel’s hands in between his. “Close your eyes. Are you ready?”

“Wait, what do you mean right companion?” Miguel asked. If he knew death, he must have met many other people who could have crossed with him. Why did he need Miguel in particular?

“I’ll explain everything once we cross. Trust me Miguel. I just want what’s best for you. I mean, what’s better than the painless embrace of death?”

Anything could sound good with the right tone. Even something as ominous as death could sound good with the a combination of the right choice of words and tones. With how Rodrigo said it, his former notions about death, the commitment, the loss, the goodbye was completely gone and all he could see was the painlessness, the embrace and the liberation.

“I’ll ask you again. Are you ready to cross?”

Crossing meant he won’t end up a lost soul. Crossing meant no more pain, Crossing meant understanding everything.

Crossing was good.

“I'm ready.”

#pixar coco #coco fandom #coco fanfiction #dia de los muertos coco #coco fanfic #hector rivera #imelda rivera #miguel rivera #rivera family #tundrainafrica #fanfic

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sugasweetsubs · 7 years

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the world is cold and life’s not fair, baby [Yoongi x Reader] pt.1

1 | THE WORLD IS COLD

Demon!Yoongi x Reader - Angst

Rated M (for violence, blood, strong language*)

*more warnings will apply in future chapters

Words: 6.7k

Pt.1 of 4 (next)

Curling up inside a dusty wardrobe and struggling to maintain steady breathing despite fear bubbling up with every noise is not how Y/N pictured the day going when she woke up this morning.

One particularly loud creak just outside the door sends a spike of panic through Y/N's chest. She tries to make herself even smaller in the pitch black darkness of the wardrobe, but thankfully the footsteps wander close for only a moment before they fade away into another room. Y/N risks a soft sigh of relief, the ridiculousness of the situation almost forcing an incredulous laugh from her as well.

How did this even happen?

The thought rises suddenly, a welcome line of focus to keep her from worrying over the softest of sounds. Finding the answer to this question takes her thoughts back all the way to the beginning of this mess: searching for her brother, meeting Yoongi, tracking down the tiniest of leads--it had all been building to this moment whether they realized it or not, and Y/N finds that the further back she takes her thoughts, the more she feels her breathing slow. Chasing after the calming effect of the distraction, Y/N allows the train of thought to continue.

Her brother’s disappearance was the start of everything. Even when they were teenagers, it wasn't uncommon for Y/N's brother to vanish for a week or two, off on adventures of both the legal and illegal variety. Over the years the adventures have ranged from sudden road trips without telling anyone beforehand to free solo climbing anywhere and everywhere; therefore, her brother’s most recent stint with club fighting came as no surprise to anyone. The vanishing acts were a constant source of concern for their family and their only consolation came from the phone call Y/N received exactly two weeks after his departure. Whether it was from his phone or from a stranger's, the call always came. Always. Even when Y/N would rat him out to their parents, her brother never failed to let her know that he was alright. So when a month passed with no call after his most recent disappearance, Y/N was certain something wasn't right.

Y/N tried to convince herself that the call was just late and it would come eventually, but one week past the one month point she couldn't wait around any longer. Searching his apartment, tracking down his travel buddies, bribing the waitress at the cafe he frequented whenever in town--she did everything she could to find him.

Everything led her back to the same place: his fight club.

Y/N knew that her brother was in town and actively fighting, so finding betting slips and a planner full of fight dates in his apartment was to be expected. What she didn’t expect to find was a notebook full of detailed investigation notes about an organization’s plot to murder the owner of the fight club and take over his business. Getting involved in feuds like that is a quick ticket to the top of every blacklist in the city, and Y/N could only hope that her brother was involved with the arranged fighting alone rather than the underground secrets that went with it.

This is how Y/N came to know the notoriously violent boss of the largest illegal fighting operation in Chicago.

Yoongi: impatient, rude, and amazing in the ring. Y/N hated him when they first met; sitting in his office while he talked down to her took ten years off her life, but it was oh-so-satisfying when she surprised him with the promise of information he couldn't risk turning down.

Yoongi agreed to help track down her brother on the condition that Y/N would give him all of the information that she had discovered regarding the plan to murder him. Their business relationship started off rocky to say the least. Yoongi was abrasive and cruel--holding no regard for others and often pitting his fighters against each other, even outside the ring. He barely spoke ten words to Y/N in the entire first week she spent working in his office, and more than half of those were him snapping at her to not touch his belongings. She was certain that his temper would snap and he would kick her out before long, but it turns out that tracking down a missing person and trying to get a step ahead of murderers can really bring two people closer together. It wasn’t long after that first week that they formed an uneasy bond and Y/N went from hating every minute of Yoongi’s presence to tolerating their time together to no vaguely worrying about his safety ever since they split up earlier that evening.

The morning started off like it always had for the past month and a half, with Y/N bringing in two coffees to Yoongi's office and settling in for the tedious work of pouring over fight records and betting receipts. However, this borderline clinical, monotonous routine was interrupted by an unexpected discovery early in the afternoon. The find took them out of the office and across the city to a series of small shops where they attempted to track down a ring owned by Y/N’s brother that had been pawned and resold several times a few days ago. The first few shops claimed that they had no record of any transactions matching the description, but the final shop confessed that the customer insisted that the records be destroyed, even offering him a cash bribe to do so. The owner admitted to lying to the customer and keeping the records intact; "he was a very suspicious man. I don't need to be bothered by the police for faulty records over such an insignificant item," the man had said when he showed them the receipt.

The address on the credit card record led them to a building that appeared to be the headquarters of a pharmaceutical company, but a quick look around inside revealed it to be abandoned. Y/N had worried that this would be the dead end to their lucky break, but Yoongi surprised her by proving to be impressively talented at convincing people to help them. A quick trip to the post office--armed with shiny rings on their fourth fingers and a flimsy story about being newly engaged and in desperate need of the company’s new address in order to invite a few friends to the wedding--and suddenly they had a forwarding address and many well-wishes from the sympathetic man behind the counter.

"Pretty stupid of them to leave behind a forwarding address if they're trying to stay hidden." Yoongi said when they left the post office. He returned Y/N's borrowed ring before opening the driver's side door of his car. With a new address in hand, they hoped to find a more solid lead at the end of this wild goose chase.

Y/N responded with a shrug, "I guess even bad guys need to get their mail."

The second address brought them to a house that looked just as run down as the first building, though this one showed signs of it on the exterior as well. Scaffolding framed the entire right side of the large brick home and the overgrown garden gave it just the right touch of 'dilapidated horror movie set' to raise goosebumps across Y/N's body.

Being one of the most influential men in the city must make someone feel pretty invincible, because Yoongi appeared very unconcerned while breaking through the back door so they could "get a better look inside." The interior of the house was neater than the outside would suggest. It looked much closer to a family home than the possible center of operations for a group planning a murder and coup combo, though a few of the things left lying around hinted at the darker side of the house's occupants: a stray pair of clean surgical gloves left next to a suspiciously dark mechanic's rag; a loose floor board that Yoongi opened to reveal a staggering number of perfectly banded stacks of cash; dozens of unopened boxes of bullets. The quickly dying light of the sunset cast uneven slants of gold on the walls and floors, creating harsh shadows that gave the rooms an eerie but beautiful glow as Yoongi and Y/N hesitantly began their search.

The first few rooms revealed nothing of interest, merely a scattering of takeout receipts and empty food containers to match. It wasn't until they reached the last room on the main floor that they actually made a promising find. A brand new, locked filing cabinet stood out among the otherwise antique and wooden furnishings of the room. Once again, Yoongi proved his usefulness by taking care of the lock. In just minutes they had access to exactly what they had been searching for this whole time--records of weapon transfers, blueprints for the building Yoongi's club operated out of, and even a copy of a report detailing Yoongi's every movement for the past two weeks.

"These assholes have been watching me for weeks?" Yoongi asked, stunned. He didn't take the news of his stalker well. It took Y/N several minutes to calm him down enough to continue their search, but before they could get to the next cabinet drawer they were interrupted by the sound of the front door crashing open and the echoes of multiple voices down the hallway.

"Shit." Yoongi immediately grabbed the papers Y/N had been holding and pushed her toward the heavy wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room. "You need to hide." He shut one of the doors even as she was still climbing in, leaving no room for interruption. “Do not leave until I come back."

"Wait, what the fuck?" Y/N's protests were cut off when Yoongi shut the second door, plunging the wardrobe into darkness save for the small crack at the bottom where orange sunlight steadily leaked inside. "Yoongi! You can't just leave me here!"

But Yoongi was already gone.

And this is where Y/N is still hiding now. She’s debating between leaving to find Yoongi so she can kill him herself or waiting in hope that she isn't found until he returns.

When Yoongi leaves Y/N in the wardrobe, he has a precious few seconds to find a way to circle around the intruders that had entered the house. A connecting door in one of the sitting rooms takes him right to the front of the house, where he’s able to tuck himself behind an open door. Not the most secure hiding place, but it does give him a nice view of the three people in the room across the hall.

Three against one--it’s not the greatest odds, but Yoongi has had to deal with worse. Each intruder is holding a paper bag of what smells like food. Yoongi waits until two of them are distracted before he makes his move.

The three of them put up a decent fight, but there is only so much they can do armed with just knives. They don't last long.

Yoongi lets the last body fall to the ground, standing to take in the carnage around him. It’s not his smoothest work, but it will do. Yoongi spots the color red in the peripheral of his vision and glances down at the blood soaking his now ripped dress shirt. His lips sink into a frown as he fingers the ruined material, but he doesn’t waste time on something that can be changed. He instead focuses on searching for some of the more subtle clues lying around the house that would be more...difficult to explain with Y/N hovering over his every move.

A drawer on the second floor leads to the discovery of several blades set carefully next to a vial of Daffodil oil and a rag that reeks of the flower's extract. Another drawer holds over a dozen cases of bullets that smell strongly of the same scent. The heavy smell is dizzying, causing nausea to settle uncomfortably in Yoongi's stomach; his expression sours at the thought of the plans these people must have for such specialized equipment. A quick series of thumps coming from the main floor grabs his attention away from the weapons.

When Yoongi reaches the bottom of the stairs, he realizes that the sounds are coming from the wardrobe where Y/N is still locked inside. He approaches quietly, attempting to wipe most of the blood covering his hands onto his pants before pulling the key from his pocket to unlock the doors.

"You fucking locked me inside?" Y/N bites out, wasting no time in exiting the wardrobe to glare at Yoongi.

"Just in case you tried to do something stupid like leave before I came back." Yoongi says it simply and drops the key to the ground without a second glance before walking toward the exit.

Y/N doesn't have a chance to tell him off before she notices the blood soaking his clothing, causing her to pause mid-step and stare. "Holy shit. Are you alright?"

Yoongi waves her concern away without turning, "Most of it isn't mine. I ran into the people who came into the house and they weren't exactly happy to see me."

"Most of it," she echoes, "are you hurt?" Y/N follows Yoongi to the door and starts grabbing at his arms to check for injuries. Yoongi takes a sharp breath when her fingers graze one of the deeper gashes on his forearm; he glares before knocking her hand away.

"I'm fine."

Y/N frowns at the dismissal and eyes the wound, but she has known Yoongi long enough to recognize when he doesn’t want to talk about something. "What happened with the people who came in? Did you just run away or-" before she can finish the thought, the door in front of them opens.

A woman steps through. The stranger looks just as shocked to see them as they are her, but recovers much faster. She has a knife in her hands before Y/N can blink. Yoongi is faster; he dodges the blade expertly while exchanging blows with the woman, but the knife grazes his chest after a misstep on his part and he hisses--though he seems more annoyed by the weapon in the woman's hands than concerned about the injury that is now steadily bleeding.

"I see you came better prepared than the others." Yoongi ducks under another swing and uses the lower vantage point to grab the woman by the waist and knock her to the ground. He moves just as quickly as before, but his breathing is labored now as he wrestles the woman for the knife. When the blade finally goes skidding across the floor, Y/N snaps out of the daze she had fallen into at sight of the sudden violence and rushes to snatch up the weapon. She tries to ignore the slick blood coating the hilt and instead wonders what could be the source of the strong heady scent wafting from the blade itself.

While Y/N is preoccupied with the knife, the woman manages to escape Yoongi's hold and launches herself at Y/N with a second one. Too shocked to act on anything more than instinct, Y/N jumps back just in time to avoid a serious wound and is instead left with a shallow cut across her cheek. Before the stinging pain can even register, the woman is coming for a second attack, but this time Yoongi is there. The time it takes to shove Y/N out of the way leaves no time for Yoongi himself to dodge and the woman’s blade sinks into his side. Y/N watches in horror as even more blood spills onto Yoongi's already darkened shirt. She yells his name, but he is too busy gasping for breath to register the sound.

Fearing that the woman will catch Yoongi by surprise while he recovers from the blow, Y/N reaches for one of the lamps on a nearby desk and holds it up with shaking arms. Her resolve almost falters until she catches a subtle nod from Yoongi. When the lamp shatters against the woman's skull it creates a sickening thud that Y/N feels all the way down the length of her arms. The woman falls limp to the ground.

The remains of the lamp fall from Y/N's grasp to the ground. She lets out a shaky breath and turns to ask if Yoongi is alright, but he is already moving. His eyes, unusually wide and dark, are locked on the unconscious body at their feet. It could be the shadows or the blood loss, but the skin under his eyes is so dark it looks badly bruised. Not understanding what he is going to do, Y/N simply watches as Yoongi picks up one of the knives that had fallen to the floor during their altercation. It isn't until he moves to stand over the woman that a cold, heavy realization hits Y/N.

"Wait!" She jumps forward to grab Yoongi's raised arm before he can strike, "You can't just kill someone! She's already unconscious. Let's just get out of here."

Yoongi falters. His eyes fall to Y/N's hands on his arm before turning back to the body. He frowns, but lowers his arm.

"If you insist." He drops the knife, "I have everything I need. Let's go."

"Yoongi, you just got stabbed." Y/N grabs at him again when he tries to walk away. "Don't you need to sit for a second? Should I call an ambulance?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes at her concern. "It isn't as bad as it looks."

"Bullshit. You're bleeding everywhere and I saw the knife go into your side." Y/N stares pointedly at his shirt, which is dripping crimson on the floor.

"The blood must mostly be hers. Look." He lifts his shirt to reveal what should be a deep stab wound, but is instead a relatively shallow slice that has already stopped bleeding.

"What the hell?" Y/N steps closer, "I swear I saw the knife go all the way in."

"Must have been a trick of the light." Yoongi is unconcerned with the disbelieving look on Y/N's face. He walks out the door without checking to see if she will follow.

"But still, those aren't little wounds. You need stitches at the very least." Y/N nearly trips over an abandoned takeout bag in the middle of the hallway in her rush to catch up.

"I'm telling you; I'm fine. I've had my fair share of cuts and scrapes. Believe me when I say these don't need stitches." He stops without warning to wave a manila folder in her face. "Besides, we have plenty of information to follow up on now and I want to get it back to my office immediately."

Y/N grumbles at his lack of concern for his own well-being, but drops the issue. She quietly follows him to the car.

The drive is tense. Y/N sits carefully in an unsuccessful attempt to keep her bloody clothing from staining the seats of Yoongi's expensive car, but Yoongi himself seems unconcerned about the mess. The night rushes by in a inky blur, lit only by the occasional streetlight for what feels like hours until they hit the city.

It isn't until they’re stopped at a particularly long red light that Yoongi breaks the silence.

"Go ahead."

Y/N pulls herself away from the window to give Yoongi a look. "What?"

"You obviously have something on your mind." He pauses to turn left when the light goes green. "Go ahead and talk about it."

Y/N stays silent for a moment and watches every new light they pass under turn Yoongi a different shade of blue, red or green. She lowers her gaze to the dried blood on her hands. "I was just thinking about what happened back there. I mean...you were going to kill that woman."

Yoongi's eyes stay on the road, but his grip on the wheel tightens. "She was trying to kill us first. Was I supposed to just stand there?"

“Well, no.” Y/N frowns, “I understand that she was the one coming at us, but we were able to take care of it without killing her. It’s just--you seemed so calm, I guess. Even now, when you’re bleeding all over the place and just stabbed someone, you’re driving like nothing happened. I know you’re used to this as a--a fighter, or something, but fuck if I am.”

They reach another red light. Yoongi takes the opportunity to stare out his window and watch a laughing group of people leave a bar they’re stopped beside. "It's not exactly my first time in a fight like that. I've got practice staying calm under my belt."

The light turns green. The car lurches forward. Y/N says nothing.

It's easy to forget who Yoongi is when he dresses in nice suits and wears glasses that slip down his nose while he does paperwork. Y/N almost didn't believe the violent rumors swirling around the city about him when they first met, because Yoongi--with his fancy cars, blunt manner of speaking, and self-righteous attitude--seemed no different than the other spoiled rich kids turned adult that she had met in the past, even if he did have a sadistic streak.

That all changed when she saw him fight for the first time. Something changes when Yoongi steps into the ring: his eyes darken and his entire demeanor shifts into something that doesn't feel totally human. He has never lost a fight, and the two times Y/N has witnessed him win, the scene has been exactly the same: his opponent lying unconscious at his feet and his face splattered with their blood. The most chilling part comes when his arm is held high above his head to signal his victory--there is no victorious smile, no smirk, just a wild, wide-eyed look into the crowd as if searching for someone to be next.

After that, the rumors of the vicious man who ran the most violent operation outside of the mafia didn't seem so far fetched--Y/N just forgets until something like tonight reminds her.

Yoongi can't blame Y/N for her silence. She doesn't seem like the type that has witnessed a lot of violence in her life, so tonight must have come as a shock--and she doesn't even know that he killed the others. Unfortunately, he isn't well equipped to handle delicate feelings like shock, so he tries to think about what they would be doing if this was one of the action movies that are always playing in the club lobby. He almost laughs out loud at the first idea that comes to mind, but decides it can't hurt. He just hopes that Y/N is too lost in thought to notice when they drive way past their exit.

He waits until they're less than ten minutes away from the place he has in mind before he opens his mouth. “Hey--um, you hungry?”

The friendly words feel awkward on his tongue. Y/N must notice, judging by the 'did you hit your head?' look she gives him.

"I am" she says, her eyes returning to the dark buildings surrounding them, "but I'm not sure there's a whole lot open at one in the morning."

"I actually know a place." Y/N raises a brow at the statement, but laughs and agrees anyway. Yoongi is shocked at how well his imagined movie plot is applying to real life.

Things are quiet again until they pull up to a small diner with a glaring red neon sign declaring that it is open twenty-four hours. The faded checkered floors and tarnished chrome accents portray a fifties feel that Y/N isn’t entirely sure is planned.

Y/N is pleasantly surprised by Yoongi's choice in venue and gives him the same, astonished look from before. Under the weight of her questioning stare, Yoongi just shrugs. "I used to live around here and I tend to have a lot of late nights. This place has become a favorite of mine over the years."

For some reason the fact that even someone like Yoongi has a favorite restaurant--and the fact that it's such a modest diner--makes Y/N smile.

“What’s with the smile?” Yoongi asks.

Y/N just shakes her head. "It's nothing, but we do have a bit of an issue." Yoongi’s head cocks to the side in question and she nods at his destroyed clothes. "We might draw just a little bit of attention if we walk in there like this."

Shutting off the ignition, Yoongi settles back into his seat for a moment in thought before reaching down to fiddle with something beside his seat. The unexpected sound of the trunk unlocking makes Y/N jump. She tries to calm her erratic heartbeat while Yoongi exits and walks around to the back of the car. A few seconds later he returns with a large duffel bag in hand. He leans his hip against the open car door while searching through the bag, then promptly pulls a few pieces of fabric out before dropping the bag in his seat.

"My gym clothes," he explains before tossing something gray at her face. "Might not smell the greatest, but it’s better than being covered in blood. He carries his own clothing around to the back of the car, Y/N following his reflection in the rear view mirror blindly until he pulls his shirt off in a single motion. It suddenly becomes very obvious that Yoongi intends to strip down in the middle of the parking lot.

Not wanting to intrude on his privacy, she returns her attention to the garment in her hands--a simple sweatshirt bearing the Chicago Cubs logo across the front. The well-worn cotton is incredibly soft against her skin and a welcome contrast from the cold, sticky mess that her own shirt has become.

She is in the process of wadding up her soiled shirt and tossing it to the floor board when Yoongi returns, once again leaning his hip against the door. For a moment, Y/N thinks that a stranger wandered up to the car because of how different Yoongi looks in sweatpants and a faded band t-shirt, even if the ensemble doesn’t stray from his usual black theme. He even has his hair pulled back under a black baseball cap to hide the dried blood caked onto his fringe.

Y/N has only ever seen Yoongi in his immaculate business suits, so seeing him like this...He looks younger, normal. It's even harder to imagine him as the criminal that he is.

"Yoongi; how old are you?" It isn't the question that she meant to ask, but suddenly she has a desire to know. Even with all of the time they have spent together, she has never thought to ask his age.

Yoongi's lips twitch upward on one side before he answers, and it is the closest thing Y/N has seen to a smile from him. "Twenty-four." He watches Y/N's reaction with amusement on his face, but there is something else in his eyes that she can't read. "Surprised?"

She hesitates, "No, not exactly." She tilts her head, studying him. "I knew you couldn't be much older than that, but it seems odd that someone so young is already in charge of...such an interesting business. Especially if the rumor that you've only been in the city for a few years is true."

His eyes narrow ever so slightly. "I've been wondering for a while now if you had heard any rumors about me before you came barging into my office that first night. I guess this answers that question." He shifts to lean more heavily on the car door and folds his arms across his chest. "It's true that I've only been living in Chicago for a few years, but this is far from my first time coming to the city. During my visits in the past I made some valuable contacts that came in handy when I entered the fighting scene.” He shrugs. “Maybe that's the reason for my quick success."

The explanation comes as a surprise to Y/N and a meek "Oh" is all she can manage. Yoongi has never shared so much about himself with her before.

"Ready to go in?" Yoongi asks. He shuts the door and walks away before she can answer.

Y/N scrambles to follow after him, but she finds that he is waiting outside the front doors for her. As she walks into the light coming from above the entrance, he takes in her appearance and gives a small frown.

Y/N glances down and starts to inspect her clothing. "What, did I miss some of the blood?"

Yoongi stops her by stepping forward and tilting her face up with a few fingertips on her jaw. "No, I just didn't realize you had been cut." Y/N is frozen, not even breathing as Yoongi examines the slice on her cheek with unreadable eyes. The pad of his thumb ghosts over the already scabbing wound. "It's shallow, and if you keep it moisturized it shouldn't scar." With that, Yoongi steps away and enters the restaurant.

The waitress who seats them is uncharacteristically cheery for someone working the graveyard shift, and urges them to stay for as long as they like. She gives the cut on Y/N's face an odd look the first few times she passes by and dotes on Yoongi so often that he starts rolling his eyes behind her back. Around the sixth time this happens, Yoongi sends a pleading look to Y/N over the woman's back as she leans dramatically in front of Yoongi to refill his water that he hadn't even sipped from in the first place. Y/N takes a long sip from her drink and raises an eyebrow at him over her glass, her enjoyment of the situation evident in her eyes. Yoongi flips her an insulting finger in response and Y/N has to cover her snort and consequent laughter with a coughing fit.

"Oh my, can I get you some water, dear?" The attention of the waitress is finally off of Yoongi and he sags with visible relief.

"You know, I actually feel a bit of a sore throat coming on." Y/N throws in a painful sounding cough for good measure, "May I have some tea, please?"

"Of course! You poor dear!" The waitress brings a hand to her chest, "Give me just a few minutes."

"Thank you so much." Y/N continues with her over exaggerated coughing until the woman passes through the kitchen doors.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. "Holy shit."

Y/N makes no attempt to hide her laughter, "I think you have an admirer."

"This waitress has served me before and she always flirts a little, but she has never been like this."

"Let me take a wild guess: you've never brought anyone to eat with you before, have you?" Y/N waves a hand in her face trying to calm herself after laughing so hard.

A look of confusion furrows Yoongi's brow, "No, now that you mention it, I haven't."

Y/N responds with a raised brow and a pointed look; it takes a few seconds, but then Yoongi tilts his head, looking amused. "You think she's jealous? The woman doesn't even know me."

"I can't say for sure," Y/N shrugs, "but it sure looks like jealousy to me." She then stands and spins her menu in Yoongi's direction. "I have to use the restroom, will you order this for me?" She is already walking away before he can even think to respond.

He watches her make her way through the isles and shakes his head, a wry smile forming. He sometimes thinks he bit off more than he can chew by agreeing to work with this woman. If her information wasn't so important he never would have considered such an arrangement, but--despite all the hassle--he finds himself enjoying the strange change of pace she has brought into his life. The excitement of running his club and fighting humans lost its novelty a long time ago; playing detective and running around the city with Y/N broke the dangerous monotony his life had fallen into.

Yoongi’s thoughts are interrupted by the return of the waitress and she launches back into her act of trying to catch his attention, though it seems less intense in light of Y/N’s absence and he manages to order their food with relative ease.

Upon returning to the table, Y/N finds that her tea has been delivered and Yoongi is absentmindedly tapping away at his phone, only looking up when she takes a seat.

"What are you d-" Y/N's question is interrupted by the arrival of their food and another amusing display from their waitress. The smell has Y/N's stomach rumbling; she hadn't realized how long it had been since her last meal and digs in immediately.

"I hope you don't mind, but I just have to say that you two make an adorable couple!" The waitress is very obviously faking the sincerity in her voice, but Y/N smiles indulgently. "How long have you two been together?"

"Oh, we're not-" Y/N begins to explain, but Yoongi interrupts.

"It’ll be one year in July," Yoongi says, flashing Y/N a startlingly convincing loving look.

The waitress obviously hadn't been expecting this answer and her eyes darken momentarily before the false cheer can cover it up. "Oh, how lovely!" She places extra napkins on the table and makes a quick exit, "If you two need anything just shout! I'll be in the kitchen."

"Um, what the fuck was that?" Y/N levels a narrowed glare at Yoongi.

"Oh come on, you have to admit the look on her face was worth it." Yoongi butters his toast, unconcerned. "Besides, maybe now she'll leave me the hell alone."

Y/N sighs, "Fine." She raises her water glass, "A toast, to our almost one year anniversary."

Yoongi smirks and raises his own glass. "Cheers."

The rest of the night passes quickly. Y/N learns that Yoongi enjoys music and sports and his story about how he came to own the cubs sweatshirt she's wearing leaves her in tears from laughing. In return, Y/N shares that she also enjoys music and that she normally works as an elementary school teacher, but has taken an extended leave to search for her brother.

"What's with that look?" Y/N huffs at Yoongi's raised brows.

"Nothing, you just don't seem like the teaching type." Yoongi takes a sip of his third glass of water. The two of them have been talking for well over two hours now, but neither of them have felt particularly inclined to call the waitress over to clear their empty plates.

Y/N scoffs, "And what is that supposed to mean? I'll have you know that my kids love me."

"I'm sure they do." His eyes shine with amusement, "It's just that you swear an awful lot for someone meant to be instilling proper morals into America's youth. Aren't teachers supposed to be patient and sweet?"

Y/N answers with her middle finger raised. "Fuck you, Yoongi."

They both burst into laughter, and Y/N marvels at the sound of Yoongi's reserved chuckle. The hardened man she has spent weeks working beside seems a million miles away and she can't help but think that Yoongi wouldn't be all that bad if he smiled a little more. Though--not even seconds later--Yoongi stops suddenly and grabs at his side, looking pained.

"Is your injury bothering you?" Y/N peeks over the side of the table like it will help her see what's causing him pain, but Yoongi just shakes his head.

"No, it isn't that. I’m not sure what it is, but it hurts like a son of a bitch." He continues to rub at the area for a few moments before shaking his head, "It's gone now, but that was weird."

Y/N moves to stand, "Do you want to go? We should both get some rest."

He nods, but seems unfocused. "Yeah."

The drive home is even less talkative than the ride there, but now the silence is comfortable and filled in by the radio. The first actual words come when they are just minutes away from Y/N's apartment.

"Oh." Y/N doesn't mean to make the sound, but she rolls with it and continues her thought out loud. "I can't believe I just remembered this, but wasn’t there a group of people that came into the house earlier? You never explained how you got away from them to come get me." She shifts in her seat so she can read Yoongi's expression. He looks tense and reluctant to speak, a rare sight considering Yoongi is always so blunt with his words. She frowns, "I already saw you fight and almost kill someone tonight. I think I can handle hearing about the rest."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Yoongi's voice is barely audible over the music so Y/N reaches for the knob and turns it down to a soft murmur in the background.

"Come on, Yoongi, I'm too tired to drag it out of you."

"If you insist." The tendons in his jaw flex as his grip tightens on the wheel. There’s no preamble as he admits, "I killed them."

This isn't the answer Y/N was expecting and she doesn't process it at first. "You—you what?"

He glances away from the road to look her in the eyes. His voice is low and even, "I killed them, Y/N." He catches her horrified look just before he returns his eyes to the road. "Don't act so shocked. I know we just had a cute heart to heart, but don't forget who I am." His turns around the corners get a little sharper as do his words. "This isn't a fairy tale story. I won't have a sudden change of heart just because a beautiful woman walked into my life. They attacked me, so I fought back. I knew they wouldn't stop until one of us was dead, so I made sure that wasn't me. Simple as that."

"Simple?" Y/N's voice catches on the word and she feels sick to her stomach, "Yoongi, how the hell can you be so okay with taking lives like that?" A tightness in her throat stops her from saying more, but she moves to the edge of her seat to get closer to the window, to get farther from Yoongi.

"Because I don't go by the same set of morals as you, Y/N. I left those behind a long time ago." He releases a deep sigh and his fingers start to tap an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel. "Look, I know the thought is upsetting to you, but it really was in self defense." The words are true in this case, but his memories turn to all the deaths where the same couldn't be said.

"That may be the case, but you shouldn't be so casual about all of this!" Y/N doesn't realize she is shouting until she is faced with the suffocating silence that follows her outburst--even the radio has stopped playing.

Yoongi is quiet for a long time after that. He doesn’t see the point in arguing about his nature and other things he can’t properly explain to her. He doesn't speak again until they pull up to her building, and neither of them move once the car is stopped.

"I don't have any excuses to give you to make you feel better." Yoongi turns in his seat to fully face her. "I don't regret it. Maybe I am too calm about it, but when you live a life like mine, death stops feeling so monumental."

Instead of replying, Y/N simply exits the car, hesitating for only a moment to say, "Don't expect me to be in your office tomorrow. I need time to think." before walking into her apartment building without a backwards glance.

A/N *This fic was written as part of a collaboration in celebration of Bangtan’s 4th anniversary and you can check out the other fics here. There will be roughly three parts to this story and I plan to update once every 1-2 days! Thank you for reading and feedback is very welcome ^.^ Happy festa~♥*

And I have to give a HUGE thank you to Lu and Ben (@nottodayjeon and @daeguk) for helping me brainstorm and edit this fic!!*

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#bts #suga #yoongi #bangtan bookclub #sugaslutsociety #fanfic #angst #romance #my stuff #the world is cold and life's not fair baby #twclnfb #demon au #demon!yoongi #seven sins #SevenSinsCollab #yoongi x reader #sugasweetsubs

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