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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

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If You Just Realize

Part One: Blindsided

Summary: Sebastian’s close friend stands by his side as he and his family say a sad goodbye and face new obstacles in the days and weeks to come. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 1900 Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language. Happy Reading!

Dismal notes sounded together in morbid harmony throughout the church as funeral attendees greeted each other in the lobby. The people filed together toward the sanctuary, offering condolences to the family as they passed. Sebastian did his best to be cordial, but between his grief and looking out for the one other person he needed to be there, he feared he wasn’t doing so well interacting with the guests.

“Calma, Sebastian,” his mother soothed, rubbing a hand over his back before she went to accept the outstretched hand of another guest. “Y/N will be here. She said she will be here, she will be here.”

Sebastian nodded and gave the next person in line a tight, sad smile. He knew that Y/N would be there; she always was when he asked for her support. The unexpected circumstances of his life, however, made him anxious for her presence.

In the last few days, Sebastian had thought often of a song released sometime around his senior year of high school. The real troubles in life, the spoken-word song warned, are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at four P.M. on some idle Tuesday. The hour was earlier than four in the afternoon, but it was a Tuesday when he received the call telling him that his sister Irina had been involved in a fatal car accident on her way to work that morning. The doctors had been optimistic taking her into surgery, but her injuries were more extensive than the hospital staff had been able to read on x-rays and CT scans. While on the operating table, Irina’s heart stopped. The surgeon had been unable to restart the organ.

A pleasantly feminine, floral scent invaded his nostrils as soft fingers intertwined with his, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked to his side to see Y/N Y/L/N next to him. Her eyes met his, and she squeezed his hand.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Seb. LaGuardia was a disaster.”

He leaned to kiss her cheek. “Don’t apologize. Thank you for coming. I’m not sure I could have done this without you.”

“Even if you could, I wouldn’t have let you,” she returned.

Finally, the last of the guests had filed into the sanctuary, and the family could take their places at the front. Sebastian’s mother stepped out of line to hug Y/N and thank her also for being there. Y/N replied in Romanian, something she had learned after becoming friends with Sebastian all those years ago. She wasn’t fluent, but she could comfortably hold a conversation.

“Trebuia să fiu aici.” She had to be there, not from a sense of obligation, but because she wanted to support Sebastian and his family in whatever way she could.

When they were all seated, Sebastian between his mother and Y/N, and his stepfather on the other side of his mother, the priest began the service. Sebastian hadn’t let go of Y/N’s hand since she had intertwined their fingers when she arrived. Occasionally, he would squeeze her hand, and she squeezed back every time. If he needed the reminder that she was there, then she would give it.

After the eulogy and the singing and the praying had all wrapped up, Sebastian stepped out of the pew with the other pallbearers to carry his sister’s casket to the church parking lot where the hearse was waiting to take her to the cemetery. He clenched his jaw in an effort to hold back the tears glazing over his eyes.

Y/N walked behind his mother and stepfather in the processional out of the sanctuary but hung back with the crowd when the walked to the car at the front of the line of cars. Georgeta turned and motioned for her to join.

“We know what you mean to my Sebastian,” the older woman assured. “Irina would want you with us as much as possible today.”

Y/N gave her a tight smile and followed the family into the black limousine. Sebastian joined them a couple of minutes later, sliding onto the seat beside her. He took her hand again.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told her quietly as the driver pulled out of the church lot.

She nodded once. “Your mother said Irina would want it this way. I was going to ride with someone else, or take a cab.”

“No, you should be here with us. Mom’s right, Irina would want it this way. But I mean here. For the whole thing.”

She squeezed his hand and held his gaze. “Seb. There’s no way I wasn’t going to be here. I’m around as long as you need me to be, okay?”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and kissed her forehead. Besides his mother and his sister, no woman was close to him like Y/N. They had become friends when they both had bit parts in the same movie, extremely early on in their careers. The friendship had clicked so easy, they kept in touch and grew closer as the years went on. The media had speculated for years that they were more than friends, but romance had never been a part of their relationship.

After the burial, the day was only partially over. Sebastian was ready to go home and rest, but there was a whole wake to get through yet. He hoped the gathering would pass quickly and maybe he wouldn’t be required to interact with too many people.

Guests were busy eating the well-catered food, which gave him the opportunity to visit more with his mother and stepfather. Y/N had gone to the bathroom to freshen up, giving his mother the opportunity to bring up an issue that she hadn’t wanted to stress her son over until they got through the burial.

“Irina and I talked once about what to do if something like this happened,” Georgeta began. “It was not long after the baby was born. She was supposed to get it in writing, make it all legal. But she was going to school, raising her daughter. She didn’t get it done. And now …”

Sebastian licked his lips and picked up his water glass. “Now it’s too late.”

Georgeta nodded. “She wanted you to take Milena.”

Some mechanism in the swallowing process malfunctioned when his mother made the announcement. He coughed and attempted to clear his throat without causing too much of a scene. He had all but recovered when Y/N returned to the table.

“Everything all right?” she asked, patting him a couple of times on the back. Nobody said anything. She raised her brow, waiting for Sebastian to come clean.

Before he could answer, the sound of little feet running in their direction put a halt to the conversation. A little girl in a black dress with curly pigtails was rushing towards them, her arms outstretched.

“Uncle Seb!”

“Milena!” Sebastian exclaimed, stepping out of his chair and swooping the toddler up into his arms. Her chubby little hands squeezed his face so that his lips puckered like a fish. Sebastian laughed and switched his hold to balance her on his hip. “I’m so glad you’re here, munchkin. I missed you.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered, “Miss you.”

Georgeta and Anthony greeted the little girl, but she refused to be held by anyone except Sebastian. Once her grandmother and grandfather were distracted in conversation by the woman who had brought Milena to the reception, the girl pointed to Y/N.

“Uncle Seb, who that is?”

Sebastian smiled and sat with Milena so that she could be closer to eye level with Y/N. “This is my very good friend, Y/N. You met her before, but you were a tiny baby, so you probably don’t remember.”

Y/N smiled kindly at the little girl. “Hello, Milena. Your Uncle Seb told me you were pretty. I like your dress — you look just like a princess.”

That was all it took to win the little girl over. She settled comfortably on Seb’s lap while they adults spoke, smiling often at Y/N and asking a couple questions here and there. Y/N was making faces in an effort to make Milena laugh, and distract her from the somewhat heated conversation that seemed to be erupting between the woman who had brought Milena, Sebastian, and his parents. When the voices really got loud, Y/N reached out to take Milena.

“Are you hungry, princess? We can see what snacks are left at the food table.”

Milena went willingly, walking hand in hand with Y/N, who winked at Sebastian over her shoulder as they walked away. He gave her a grateful smile and turned back to his parents and Milena’s paternal grandmother, Alice.

“I know that Connor didn’t want to part of Milena’s life,” Alice was saying, “but that doesn’t mean Tim and I don’t want to be. My son’s choices are his own. I think we should explore the option of joint custody.”

Anthony sighed. “We don’t want to keep Milena from you, certainly, but Irina’s wishes were for her to be with her uncle. My daughter was very clear on the matter. Since Connor signed his rights away when the baby was born, I think it best that we honor what her mother wanted for her.”

“I can give her a very good life,” Sebastian interjected, “and you can see her whenever you like. I live right here in the city.”

Alice pursed her lips. “And when you’re working? I know you can afford to give her a good life, but there’s more to raising a child than the financial component.”

Sebastian bit his tongue. He had a lot to say, but none of it was kind or productive. None of it was going to help his case. He leaned back in his chair, letting his parents take over from there. As he glanced around the room, he saw Y/N and Milena standing by the food table. Both of them were smiling, and Milena was pointing to all the different things she wanted to try. Y/N held the plate with two hands as she crouched down so that Milena could pick up a grape in one hand and a cube of cheese in the other. Milena took a bite of the cheese then grinned up at Y/N, wrinkling her little nose.

The scene comforted him in a way he didn’t think was possible up to that moment. As he continued to watch his best friend and his niece interact, the seed of an idea was planted in Sebastian’s mind. He immediately told himself he was being ridiculous, but the thought tugged at his heartstrings and pulled on one end of his mouth, almost evoking a smile.

Y/N locked eyes with him as she followed Milena back to the table, a silent warning that any arguments needed to come to a stop. As the conversation between Alice and his parents didn’t seem to be slowing down, Sebastian pushed out of his chair and approached them.

“How about I take my two favorite girls to the park across the street? I know a little girl who loves to swing,” Sebastian smiled.

Milena clapped her sticky hands and reached for Sebastian to pick her up. He obliged, and once she had set Milena’s plate of snacks on the table, Y/N followed them out to the park.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13

IYJR: @elsatxx @tanelle83 @amanda-teaches @etherealwaifgoddess @kmuir1 @ntlmundy @jayankles @rebekahdawkins @denise1605 @rhadigen

#marvelfluffbingo2020 #sebastian stan #fanfiction #reader insert #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #fluff #angst #drama #tw: death #queue and i remember budapest very differently

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ellana-ravenwood · 5 years

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“What it means to be a big brother” - by Damian Wayne (Batfam x Fem!Reader)

I wanted to write a story with Damian as an older brother, and how he came to learn what it meant to…well, basically the title haha. And since quite a few of you lately asked for more Thomas, here we are. I hope you will like it :

My master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives . Links to stories where Thomas appears (for those who do not know who he is) in the author’s notes at the end of the story.

__________________________________________________

Right there, with his new little brother in his arms, standing in front of his family...Damian didn't dare to move an inch.

There wasn't a muscle in his body that wasn't tense.

In this exact position, things were going well, so he wasn't about to move. Staying like this forever sounded more and more like a good plan.

Because if he did move…There was a chance he’d drop him.

"You don't have to be so stiff you know ?"

Tim said, amused.

He was the one that was holding the baby just a few minutes ago, and was clearly not as stressed as Damian about it. He was also the one that laid little Thomas in his brother’s arms, and therefor was the cause of the “full body lockdown” Damian was going through.

Slowly, Damian turned his head towards Tim (he couldn't move too fast, because there was a risk he'd drop the baby !) and said through gritted teeth :

"Yes I do. If I don't, I might drop him !"

The word “drop” was resonating in Damian’s head, and it was the only thing he could think about.

Drop. Drop. Drop drop drop drop.

It was starting to lose it’s meaning, and only the fact that it would be terrible if he “dropped” something stayed in the boy’s head.

But then the baby moved, and Damian looked down instinctively.

His eyes fell upon his new little brother’s face and...He felt his heart drop.

What was this feeling ? Why, all of a sudden, did he feel overwhelmed and full of...something ? An emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

It kinda made him want to cry.

His eyes glued to the little body in his arms, trying to understand this intense surge of emotions, he finally raised his head after a few seconds and said, a hint of disbelief in his voice :

“I’m-I’m a big brother.”

And boom. There it was.

Up until now, you had managed to keep your cool, looking at your sons and daughter holding Thomas in turn, and beaming at him happily.

But here, that bewildered look on Damian’s face, and that smile he probably didn’t even notice he had on, was a little too much for your heart.

Damian was the one you were most worried about, when it came to meet baby Thomas. You weren’t sure how he’d react.

All along your pregnancy he was doing fine, and seemed excited about the prospect to have a new brother. But at times, when nobody was looking at him, you noticed the worried look in his eyes, and it frustrated you to no end to not be able to know for sure what your son was thinking.

You’ve always been good at deciphering the Waynes’ emotions, sometimes even better than them themselves. But in that case...You couldn’t quite put your finger on what kind of worries were assaulting your boy.

Was he afraid you’d love his little brother more ? Or that he wouldn’t be the “baby” anymore ? Maybe afraid not to be a good enough role model ? Or to simply to not find a way to bond with him ?

So many questions, and no answers.

Maybe it was a mix of all of that. But you just couldn’t decide. And it was an immense source of stress for you.

But here, right now, as you witnessed Damian smiling widely and whispering “Im a big brother”, your own worries suddenly vanished.

You turned to your husband who was right next to you, and put your head against his chest, muffling a "awwwww" sound that you feared might put Damian on the defensive. Instinctively, Bruce wrapped his arms around you (this called for some “I know, I know they’re cute” support).

God forbid anyone would catch your little buddy being so sweet. Haha. He hated when you called him that.

Sweet.

But he truly was ? He just didn't know it yet.

You were sure no one ever told him he was "sweet".

But he had all this little attentions for you, his father or siblings.

He might think of it as nothing, but you all noticed. You noticed all the drawings he’d left in strategic points for all of you. Or how meticulous he was in preparing pop corn or hot chocolate for movie nights. Little things, that when added, became grand.

You noticed everything. All of you.

Most importantly, you noticed the big changes in him.

Damian was 12 now.

He came into your life two years ago and, after quite a while of him refusing this little family his father made for himself, and making life difficult for everyone…He came around. He understood.

And you never blamed him for being difficult at first, on the contrary. You were the most understanding of them all, scolding your kids or Bruce himself, when they were too unforgiving or frustrated too fast !

It was a team work, to make Damian feel like he was finally home.

Feel like he was amongst his family.

Like Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass were his siblings, and although you weren’t his biological mother, you saw him as your own son too.

It was a learning experience for everyone.

Bruce did a great job at being patient, and teaching him about his own values and such. Forgiving him when he took the wrong decision, all the while still being strict. It was a balance of understanding, softness, forgiveness, and yet still putting important boundaries. Damian never really experienced any of this...

Your kids had some practice at being older brothers, and only Tim needed an acclimating moments...But he was a fast learner. After the first initial bad meeting, they became close. Although of course, they still bickered from times to times. After all, they were little/big brothers. Everything couldn’t always be perfect. Life wasn’t like that.

As you looked at Damian and Thomas, you wondered...Would Damian, just like his siblings, find his own way to become a big brother ? How would he proceed ? He had, after all, a lot of role model for this. But would he decide to take the same approach ?

The future was more unknown than ever, but as you looked at your family surrounding you, and this new beaming little life that entered yours, you had quite the high hopes.

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

"July 15th 20?? (I’m not putting an exact year cause ya know, it wouldn’t stay accurate). Thomas : three days old.

I am starting this logbook to understand. I got the idea from Grayson, whom I think got the idea from mom ? I always see him write in that journal of his. I think when he was younger, after he lost his parents and just started to live with father and mom, she suggested to him to write his feelings down. And so he started journaling. He has a bunch of filled notebooks in his room. I saw them a few times, but I never looked. Mom says it’s his thoughts, I would never intrude (okay maybe I “intruded” once. Or twice.).

That’s not the point of this anyway. According to both him and mom, writing down their feelings help a lot. So I asked Grayson if he could give me a blank notebooks, since he always has some in advance. He gave me a stupid bright pink one that sparkles and light up in the dark...But oh whatever, at least like that, nobody will know it’s mine, and will open it.

Now, what is the point of this exactly. Laying it out is suppose to help so, here goes nothing : in this logbook, I am planing to “write down my feelings” so I can understand. I’ve never felt that way before. Love is very new to me, people actually caring about me is very new, having a sort of freedom is new, being happy is new. I’ve come a long way in two years, and I still find it difficult to put words on all the things I feel. Hence, this book.

More precisely though, I will record in this “logbook” (not to confuse with a journal or something), my journey as a new big brother. I think it will help me, to write things down. The idea doesn’t sound as stupid as when I first heard it two years ago. On the contrary, I already feel like my brain is getting more organized about my feelings, just by writing this down. Like now, I understand that what I felt as I held Thomas for the first time was love. And a need to protect him. But it was so instant, as soon as I truly saw him, that it made me wonder...Why ? And How ? Is this what it is to be a big brother ? A sudden instinct coming out of nowhere ?

I will implement my studies of becoming the best big brother (notes for self : competition = hard, have to work very hard), and understanding what it actually means to be one, as it’s a first for me.

My life now is full of “firsts”. But in this logbook, I will mostly talk about being a big brother to Thomas, because that’s the newest and most intriguing thing yet. After two years, I think I know what love is, and what it isn’t. It isn’t praising me for being the best, but encouraging me to always do my best. It isn’t training me and being proud of me when I’m perfect, but accepting my flaws unconditionally. Yes. I think I got love down. It’s in little gestures, like when father goes to the other side of town to get my favorite take away. It is in small (and sometimes big) affectionate things like calling me pet names, ruffling my hair, or making sure I am alright. Love englobes a lot of things (my feelings for Thomas being in it). It took me a while to understand it, and I think if I had a logbook to write my findings down, it would’ve been easier.

So here I am. Starting a new journey of discovery. But with the knowledge I already have. How my brothers and sister are with me. How my parents are with me. How my friends, are with me. What love truly is. I’m not starting this new canvas blank, but with already a large array of color. What I need now, is to make this painting my own.

*There is here a drawing of himself standing at the front of a large pirate boat, ready to start this “new journey of discovery”, with the annotation “I think Grayson would enjoy this analogy of being captain of my own boat, as in of my own destiny. He always enjoyed pirates”*

A plan : 1. Get books on babies. 2. Hanging out with Thomas. 3. Observing how the others are interacting with him. 4. There is no 4 yet. But there will be as I come along, I suppose.”

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

It all happened so fast.

Bruce and the kids were about to go on patrol, when you started to scream at him that it was time. In a panic, you rushed to the hospital, leaving behind your children who anxiously waited for some news.

Hours went by, and no news were given.

Everyone slowly started to freak out, but Damian was the one who was touched the most.

When Jason dared to tell him : “Hey buddy, no news mean good news, right ?” in an attempt to comfort him, Damian went on a rant about how this expression was idiotic and made no sense.

No news meant a lot of things ! Like, maybe their father RECKLESS driving got them into an accident, or maybe there was complications with the babies, or they ran in any kind of troubles that prevented them to give news !

No news meant “no news” ! And was in no way, in Damian’s eyes, a positive thing !

It’s as Damian was going on and on about what could’ve gone wrong that could explain the lack of news, and starting to freak everyone out, that the phone finally rang.

“Ah, see ? No news did mean good news.”

Jason said ruffling his little brother’s hair. Although his apparent confidence was only a facade, because Damian’s list of “what could’ve gone wrong” really got to him too (he’d never admit it but Jason was quite the worry wart).

But everything was fine now. He could joke, and tease his brother again. Because...

It was official, there was a new member in the family.

Thomas Clark Wayne was born, on a sunny July day.

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

Damian didn’t know how to feel. Or rather, didn’t know what he felt.

He knew that day was going to happen, he saw his mother’s belly grow. He touched it, and couldn’t help but share his parents happiness...but it all seemed so surreal at the time ?

Like the baby would come in a very long time ?

He wasn’t an idiot. Plus, he was already 12 now. He most definitely knew where babies came from (ew) and how they came to life (double ew).

But even with this knowledge, he just hadn’t been able to visualize having a baby brother ?

So when he found himself in the hospital corridors, following after his older siblings, running a little to keep up with their hurried pace, he wasn’t really sure what to feel.

What would he find in that room ?

Probably his mom and father, smiling at him, and holding a baby in their arms...

It was weird. Because Damian had always been the “baby” of the family. Was this spot now his brother’s ? How did that make him feel ? What was his place now, then ?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know !

Did he still have a place ? How was he suppose to know what it was ?

So many thoughts were rushing through his head, he didn’t have time to process any of them that they already were in the room.

The first thing Damian saw wasn’t the newborn, as his brothers gathered quickly around his mom and father while he stayed a bit behind with Cass (who rolled her eyes a lot, whispering : “boys” every two seconds).

No. The first thing Damian saw was his father. His smiling father.

Given the looks his older brothers gave in his direction, Damian gathered that Thomas was in their fathers’ arms. And Bruce was smiling so widely.

It was pretty rare, to see him smile. It only happened when he was with his family. You made him smile a lot, even more so when you both thought nobody was looking at you.

Damian thought that it was the first time he saw this specific smile of his father.

Thomas’ existence had created a new awe induced smile...

Bruce was looking down at his tiny son in his arms, and was just smiling widely and...sort of like a child ?

Like even when he smiled to his wife, or to his kids. Those actual genuine smile he gave them, not the fake "Brucie Wayne" persona ones. They were always very him ? They always had his past in it. When he smiled at them, they could see they meant a lot, because he was able to smile even through all his pain. And they were the one that brought his happiness forth.

Bruce’s smiles to his family were grateful, full of pure joy, and recognition. With a hint of sadness, however. Of traumas he could never forget.

But here, as he held Thomas, it was like he forgot everything, and was carefree for the first time since he was eight.

Of course, it only appeared like that to Damian because he wasn’t quite sure yet about how he should feel. Happy, or jealous ? He never noticed the many times his father gave him that exact pure child like happiness and awe too.

Bruce wasn’t always the best at showing his feelings, a lot of time, he would smile softly, full of love, in the way he was right now, only when he was sure no one was looking.

He most definitely smiled that way to all his children, they just never had the chance to witness it due to Bruce’s own self-consciousness, and not being sure how to handle his own feelings at times.

In that way, Damian and his father were very much alike. You often said so. They sometimes had great trouble expressing themselves.

Which could cause great misunderstanding, like right now.

As Damian witnessed his father smile this way for the first time ever, and wondered...

Wondered if..If Talia gave him to Bruce as a baby, would he have smiled the same way ?

…Probably not.

It made Damian feel all sort of things, to realize that.

Strangely, the emotions he felt weren’t negative. On the contrary, he was glad that his little brother was lucky enough to be born into this family he thought amazing, and would grow up immediately loved and never alone.

Sure, Damian wished it would’ve been the case for him too. But you told him once that the past was the past, and it did no good to dwell on it (he was pretty sure you misquoted Dumbledore from Harry Potter but never said anything), and it really stuck with him.

He would never be a baby anymore, hurting himself and his feelings thinking about what could’ve been was useless. It would only bring him misery. While thinking...Thinking about his new brother having this chance...Well, it made him very happy.

He was glad, times were changing.

“Do you want to hold him ?”

You asked him, taking him out of his reveries about how he realized he only had positive feelings about this new life coming into his.

Good feelings yet, but not enough to dare hold him. Panicked, he took a few steps back and said :

“No ! No no, I’m good !”

You tried to hide your disappointment, and instead gave the boy to your oldest son, Dick. You kinda wished Damian would’ve accepted to take Thomas into his arms. After all, his reaction was the one that worried you the most...

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

It’s only as he witnessed all his sibling holding their new brother, and beaming brightly at him, that he felt like he wanted to do that too.

He felt like he was missing out, because they all seemed to thoroughly enjoy holding Thomas ! And he felt like he was building unnecessary boundaries between him and his new baby brother.

What if Thomas thought he didn’t want to be his brother ?

Of course, right now, being only a few hours old, Thomas couldn’t think about that yet. But Damian read somewhere that infants could feel this sort of things. And so he turned to Tim, who was the one holding the baby boy at the moment, and said :

“Can I-...Can I ?”

Of course, Tim understood, and did not hesitate to put his little brother in his other little brother’s arms. He explained quickly to Damian how to hold him, making sure Thomas’ head was all good, and let go (later, he’d admit that he watched YouTube video to know the proper way to hold a baby).

And the rest was history.

“I’m-I’m a big brother.”

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

“Friday, October 16th 20??, Thomas : 4 months old.

I found books about babies. Many of them. 36 to be exact. They were in the library, I suspect father bought them to read up on how to take care of a baby. After all, he never had one, since we all arrived around 8/10.

I put in practice what I got from them, and was very successful doing so. Thanks to them, I was able to refine my studies on what it truly means to be a big brother.

(...)”

“Damian ?”

Bruce was looking for you, and guessed you were in your office, which, just like the bedroom you shared with him, was right next to the nursery. Of course.

He knew you must’ve been there at this time of the day because it was your “writing time”, but also Thomas’ “nap time”. In your office, you could make sure to be there for him quickly.

Bruce had just come home and as usual, looked for you immediately. He had a tough day at Wayne Enterprise, and you always were his respite.

But as he walked in front of Thomas’ room (where he was planning on going after seeing you), he was stopped in his track by the door being open, and quite an odd vision.

Damian was standing next to his brother’s crib, an arm reaching out in it. As Bruce, intrigued, approached them, he noticed that one of Thomas’ tiny hand was wrapped around one of Damian’s finger.

Before he could ask what was happening, his boy whispered, as to not wake his little brother up :

“I read somewhere that babies need physical contact so their brain can develop well. A baby that nobody ever touches just doesn’t speak much, and isn’t as advanced as one who received affection. So I’m holding his hand.”

Bruce’s brain went blank, as he looked at the extremely cute scene of his youngest son sleeping peacefully, holding his older brother’s hand. It was too much for his heart, trying to not sound choked up, he asked :

“How long have you been here ?”

Damian looked up, thinking, before he answered :

“A couple of hours ?”

“A couple of-That long ?!”

“Ssssshhh. Father !”

Damian whispered scolding his dad for his loudness. He gave a worried look to Thomas, afraid he woke up, and then turned to his father again saying :

“I heard him cry, and recognized it as being his lonely cry. So I came. Mother fell asleep on her desk, I think she was just too tired to even realize he was crying. I know neither of you have been sleeping very well lately, so no one can blame her. You two work tough jobs, then do the vigilante thing, and have to take care of a baby who doesn’t sleep through the night yet. It’s understandable, to feel very sleepy. So I came.”

Bruce felt it through his entire body. This warm, fuzzy feeling. The same one that he forgot for so many years, until you and Dick came into his life.

“How did you hear him ?”

“I rigged his baby phone to my phone, so it would give me alerts if he cries. Tim helped me develop a sort of app for that.”

This specific feeling he only felt when looking at you or his children. A sort of serenity filling his entire body. Peace.

“I rocked him a little bit. He smiled at me a lot, and cooed too. And then he felt back asleep, but as soon as I put him in the crib he cried again. I figured he didn’t wanna be alone, so I stayed and held his hand, and he eventually fell back asleep. Now I’m too afraid to wake him up if I leave, so I’m here.”

“So you’re here...”

Pride was in Bruce’s heart now. A beaming, strong, huge pride. Pride of having such a sweet little boy. Ah. Who would’ve thought, over two years ago, that Damian Wayne would stay two hours near a baby in fear that if he left, he would wake him up ?

Feeling inspired, Bruce bend down and kissed Damian’s forehead affectionately. This took the boy by surprised, and he literally gasped !

It made Bruce feel a little guilty. His sometimes odd way of loving made it so that he reserved those forehead kisses only when his kids felt bad, or when he through they were asleep (though they never were). Moments of distress; or moment he was sure they wouldn’t notice.

Sometimes, Bruce just wasn’t too sure how to react with his children. Except on definite moments, like them needing him, or them being too cute for him to resist a forehead kiss (they were always adorable, sleeping).

Or, in this instance, his boy doing something so sweet he felt the urge to kiss him with all the love and affection he had.

Now though, a little embarrassed, he took a step back, and ruffled his son’s hair again, saying :

“You’re a good brother.”

And then he left awkwardly, going to your office so he could pick you up and go take a nap with you in your room. Yes. This surge of emotion he felt, as he saw his two youngest children together, definitely called for a nap in your arms. You always had a knack, to calm him, even unconsciously...

Damian stayed in Thomas’ room, a huge smile plastered on his face.

His father just said he was a good brother !

“(...) Continuation of the previous entry (October 16th). I put in practice what I got from them, and was very successful doing so. Thanks to them, I was able to refine my studies on what it truly means to be a big brother.

Now, after four months of studying Thomas’ behavior and such, I came to realize that he has different kind of cry. They are as proceeded : 1. High pitch continuous noise = he’s hungry. 2. When he makes a series of loud “heh” = he’s too cold, or hot, or wet. It’s his sign to express a discomfort. Usually means dirty diaper, if no dirty diaper, means something else and then you have to look for what is bothering him. Example : Yesterday, the bird outside his window chirping was annoying him and keeping him from sleeping soundly. 3. Loud screams punctuated by pauses = He’s lonely. The pauses are him listening in to see if someone is coming to get him. 4. Almost silent cries, when it’s so loud it becomes quiet = he didn’t burp properly after eating and desperately need too. A few light tap on his back will make him feel better very quickly. 5. When he whimpers, it’s usually because he has gaz. Putting him a little straighter helps him...evacuate.

I put this directly in practice today, when I realized he was doing his “lonely cry”. I went to his rescue, and I didn’t mind staying hours with him even though he’s still a little baby and doesn’t do much. He smiled at me a lot, I think he recognized my voice. And my singing (note for self : make sure no one is around when such occurrence happen, almost got caught by father today). Then it felt like he didn’t want to let me go, so I stayed.

Is that what it is, to be a big brother ? Being needed ? If it is, it actually feels nice. It would certainly explain all the time Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass came to my own rescue. Wether help for my homework or to comfort me. But, I do that too, as a little brother ? I comforted them too many times. And I witnessed Jason, Tim or Cass comforting Dick and vice versa and in all ways. So, this means it’s a sibling thing, not quite a big brother thing. Need to keep studying to know what “big brother” is exactly.”

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

"Saturday, December 9th 20??. Thomas’ first Christmas/6 month old.

I started to build his gift. I think he will like it. I-”

“What are you doing, Damian ?”

You asked him, walking towards him as he busied himself at the gadget station in the Batcave. You saw him jump in the air slightly, and put away a bright pink notebook quickly.

And then he saw you had Thomas in your arms, and when Damian saw him, he hid whatever he was doing as fast as he could.

“Mom, you’re gonna spoil the surprise !! Get Thomas away !”

Surprised, and without thinking about it, you went to your husband who was typing away on the computer and put the baby in his arms.

Bruce was about to grumble that he was busy and brush the both of you away (he could be a jerk sometimes), but you didn’t gave him a chance, shoving your son in his arms. And when he looked, annoyed, at his baby and how the little one seemed the happiest of them all as he just recognized his father. Bruce’s mood lifted all of a sudden.

He smiled softly, realized he was being an asshole and was going to apologize to you but you were already gone back to Damian. Your husband and baby son exchanged a curious look, before Thomas got very interested in his father “Bat” logo and started to try to grab it, while Bruce smiled softly again and, holding his son in one arm, continued his work.

Balancing family and night activities had been hard for him to get and do, but he had it covered, nowadays. Well. Almost.

Meanwhile, you were back next to Damian, and with a sigh of relief, your son uncovered his project.

It did all kind of things to your heart...

“Damian, is that-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, too touched. Your son, proudly, said :

“It’s a mobile to go above his bed ! I think he doesn’t like the one he currently has. So I’m making him one with things he’ll like ! See mom, that’s you. Do you recognize yourself ?”

Damian seemed worried about this, and you nodded. It definitely looked like you. So. Your son wasn’t just good at drawing, but also at sculpting...

“It’s for Christmas.”

He said, smile wide. And as you grabbed him and crushed him against your chest, he got a little confused...

"Saturday, December 25th 20??. Thomas’ first Christmas/6 month old.

*There’s here a drawing of Thomas beaming at his mobile above his bed that Damian build for him*

I knew my present would be Thomas’ favorite. After all, it represents everything he likes. I put everyone from our family (Father, mom, Alfred, Dick, Tim, Cass, Jason, and of course, me), and a few of his favorite animals (I used Ace and Titus for the dogs, Tommy is very fond of them). And it makes music, which he seems to enjoy a lot. Especially when our mom, dad or anyone from the family sings to him. I recorded all of them secretly when they sang to him, and made it so he just has to push a button on the side of his crib to turn the mobile on.

I wasn’t even worried that he wouldn’t understand how to make it work. He’s only six months old, but he’s already very smart and curious (I think the physical contact we all gave him is a lot to “blame” for). So when I put the mobile above his bed, and pushed the button to start the voice of our mother, he moved his little arms and legs excitedly and smiled at the mobile widely ! I only had to push the button a few times more, and for our father, Dick, and Jason’s voice to be on for him to notice the button, and to push it himself. Or rather, to kick it or throw himself on it as best he could. He is still not that coordinate when it comes to movements. But he’s smart. He understood that, to have the music, he had to push the button.

He didn’t pay attention to all his other gifts, but mine he loved. It’s because I made it with everything he likes. So of course, he loves it. Is that what it is, to be a big brother ? To know your little sibling and be the best at giving him a gift ? No. That doesn’t sound right. Tim, or Jason, already gave me absolutely useless terrible gift, and yet it still made me happy to receive them, and that they thought about me. Mmm. The researches are still on.”

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

“Thursday, March 7th 20??. Thomas : One year and a half.

Father and mom entrusted me with babysitting Thomas today, as everyone was busy. I was very happy to be trusted with such responsibilities. I thought it would be easy, at that age, they're easily manipulated. Well...I was wrong"

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

“NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOO.”

Thomas was screaming, while Damian was trying to be heard :

“Thomas, listen, you need to put your pants on or-”

“NOOOOO !! NO DAMDAM NOOOOO !!”

“No”, was one of the first word Thomas pronounced. Right after “mama” and “dada” (the jury was still out on which words he said first, and was source of endless bickering between you and your husband).

Then he started to try and pronounce his siblings’ name, although he wasn’t quite there yet. Damian being the youngest and still at home (Dick and Jason had their own apartment by now, and Cass and Tim were starting to be very busy with college), he was able to sort of say his name first.

“Damdam”. Close enough.

But right now, Damdam really wasn’t having a good time.

It started rather smoothly. Thomas was a pretty calm child, so Damian (wrongly) thought it would be all good all day.

Only, it was the first time he was taking care of his brothers for so long. A couple of hours there and there. He made sure to be with him at least once a day, for at least two hours. Most of the time, it was more.

They really started to be very close, sometimes, Thomas would choose Damian over you or Bruce...it vexed the both of you, but you had to put yourself in the shoes of your young son.

Damian only had the good times with him. Playtime, and bed time stories, and such. While you and Bruce had to be strict with him sometimes, and give him boundaries (like no jumping on his bed, or no pulling the dogs’ tails).

Bruce once mentioned that Thomas most certainly inherited your petty side, given the fact he always went to Damian when you scolded him. But when you smacked him on the head, vexed, he said he was joking (although we all know he wasn’t).

In any way, Damian, in that year and a half, only had the good times with his brother. And today, as he had to take care of him all day long, he realized that...it wasn’t always that easy.

Proof : the morning had gone well, but now, it was over, and it was time to put some close on. Problem : Thomas didn’t seem very keen on putting pants, today.

It started slowly, as if it was a game.

Thomas ran around the room, laughing, repeating : “no ‘an’ !” (which probably meant “no pants”). Up until Damian tried to take his father’s strict tone and said :

“Ok Thomas, enough now, you need to put your pants on.”

Well. That didn’t play well in Thomas’ book. Frowning, he said :

“No.”

“Yes, Tommy. It’s day time, you need to put pants on.”

“No.”

“Yes. Come on, I’ll help you.”

“NO !”

Thomas ran away from Damian’s grasp, and your son was so surprised that he wasn’t able to catch him right away. He caught up to him though as Thomas was climbing a couch, sure that he’d be out of reach at its top (probably not understanding that Damian wasn’t as small as him...).

Once on the top of it, he sad down and put his hands in front of his eyes, clearly thinking he was hidden, now.

“I can see you Thomas.”

“No.”

“Stop saying no, I can see you.”

“No.”

“Come on Thomas, I’m not playing anymore, I can see you, and you need to put some pants on.”

“Noooooooooooooooo.”

“Tho-”

“NooOOooOOoOOoOOoOoo noooooooo.”

“Thoma-”

“NoooOOoOOoo no no no no no no no !!!!”

Damian realized trying to talk it out wouldn’t work. His brother was probably too young to be reasoned with. Quickly,he scratched his head to find a solution.

Maybe making him laugh again ? Like Dick did with him at first.

It felt like such a long time ago, but there was a time when Damian was a really big brat. He still was, sometimes, he wasn’t perfect of course. But he improved a lot.

Regardless, one of the way Dick would make him stop being bratty, was making absolutely awful jokes and trying to make him laugh by doing stupid things. Ok. Here we go then :

“Hey hey Thomas look, look !”

“No no no no...No ?”

Ok. Good point. Thomas was now watching Damian doing backflips and running around. Beaming, the little boy smiled widely and clapped his hands.

YES ! Damian most definitely won. He stopped doing his acrobatics and turned to his little brother, saying :

“Ok, time for pants now.”

But Thomas frowned again, as if vexed he fell for the show, and gave Damian a definitive :

“No.”

Well. That was a fail. What did Jason do again, to stop one of Damian’s own tantrum ? Oh. Right. Um. That probably wouldn’t be a good method with such a young kid. Skipping that one.

Tim ? Tim would talk to him about his favorite things. Video games, or whatever. And blackmailing him a lot (as a good big brother). Damian wasn’t too into blackmailing, but he was kinda running out of ideas.

This was the first time Thomas was being difficult with him, it was too new, he needed more data to know exactly how to react !

So, blackmail it would be.

“If you put your pants on, we’ll watch your favorite movie !”

This seemed to peak Thomas’ interest. He looked at the Tv, then at his pants. Then at the TV again and...oh...Ooooh...Damn it ! Damian could see he almost got him. But it didn’t work, his brother shook his head “no” so strongly he almost fell of the couch.

Ok. What were the options left ? What did Cass do ? Mmm. She would hug him and tell him things would be alright. Which worked for him, given his past, but Thomas was a little over one and had a normal happy childhood so far !

They couldn’t relate to their past, like Cass and him did.

Ok. What would his mom do ? Well, with his mom, Damian had the intimate feeling that Thomas would’ve put on his pants without a word. He knew she wasn’t joking around. He’d never pull this sort of things with her.

He would though, pull that with his father. And what would Bruce do ? Either let it go, or, if he was in a bad mood, be very strict and force him to put his pants on. Nobody said his father was perfect...His mother, neither. She could be implacable in her way of educating her son.

Thomas was a calm boy, and was of course allowed to have tantrums. Their mother was mostly understanding. But if she was tired, she’d be less patient...It wasn’t always easy, raising kids. And the gods knew the Waynes had a LOT on their plates, at times.

MMm. Damian didn’t want to force him to do anything, or to lose his patience.

And then it hit him. The solution was right in front of his eyes. Of course. It was so simple !

"(...) Continuation of last entry (March 7th)

New observation after today’s babysitting : toddlers sometimes focus on one thing so much they don't know how to react, and therefor, explodes with feelings

I found that my siblings tricks to calm me down would not work on Thomas, because he isn’t me. We don’t have the same personality, or background. I never even noticed before, how Dick, for example, used different methods to comfort all of us. Adaptability is key. Like how father gives us all different trainings, according to our own needs. Little brothers are the same. When mad, they need to be calmed in different ways. Thomas is such a calm kid and has so few tantrum, I feel comfortable doing what I did.

Which brings me to my next point. Being an older brother sometimes mean being the bigger person. Giving up, and letting them do what they want. I never realized how many things Tim, Dick, Jason or Cass gave up for me. But it now becomes very apparent to me. They switched things around in their lives to be convenient for me. Like, Tim used to love playing video games on his own, yet he let me come and play with him even as he doesn’t like multiplayer modes. Jason is afraid of snakes yet took me to Gotham terrarium where there’s one of the largest concentration of snakes in the US when I asked him. Dick gave up on ever taking many hoodies I stole from him back. Etc etc.

Being a big brother means being the bigger person sometimes, and letting the small one have their ways. Dick, Jason, Cass and Tim did it all the time with me, and it’s my turn to do it with Thomas. Unlike our parents, I don’t need to be the “police officer” of the house. I can have only the good times, and when appropriate, just let go.

Today was the first tantrum I witnessed Thomas having, and I decided to let it go. After than, it went all smooth. And honestly, he’s just a bit over one. It’s ok, if he doesn’t wear pants...”

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

Their parents found them both asleep in front of Thomas’ favorite movie.

They were still both in their pyjamas.

“No pants” day became a thing, for the two brothers.

**********

“Wednesday, April 19th 20??. Thomas : 3 years old.

Today, I learned a new lesson. I kind of already knew it before, by observing Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass. But it only became obvious to me today : A big brother is here to help his little sibling walk his own path. And discover the world.”

Damian was looking at his baby brother toughtfully. Mmm. Seemed like the kid liked animals too. Maybe they could bond further over this ?

Your boy remembered that that's how his own siblings handled him. They found common ground on which they could understand each others.

With Dick, Damian learned how to perfect his flips and other acrobatics. They enjoyed the creativity and yet physical training of this “game”.

With Jason, he used to spew all his frustration at him, and Jason would nod and say things like : “that’s right little bird, you tell ‘em !” and just agree with him on everything, even when he was wrong. They could particularly agree on how sometimes, Bruce could be a jerk...And yet wouldn’t wish for any other father.

With Cass, they’d do artistic things. Drawing, or dancing. Sometimes sitting in silence for hours, back to back, while they painted. It was nice. Relaxing.

With Tim...Well, Tim was a big advocate of this definition of sibling, that he made up himself : “The only people who will pick on you for their own entertainment, and beat up anyone else who tries.” So they’d bicker a lot, but then if anyone else was trying to rile Damian up, Tim would appear out of nowhere to give them a piece of his mind.

Yes. Yes. As Damian was observing little Thomas hug and smile at his stuffed animals, and thought that this could be quite the approach.

After all, he really loved animals too.

"'Ook Damdam, ook ! SIMBA !"

Damian had become an expert in his brother's baby talk, and knew this meant : "Look Damian, Look ! A lion"

"No Thomas, not a Simba, a lion. Not all lions are called Simba, just like in the film."

Patience was key. Damian was pretty sure he already told Thomas that exact same thing a hundred time, but for some reasons, the boy stayed stuck on his Disney knowledge.

But today, something different happened. Things clicked in the boy’s head.

Thomas looked at his stuffed animal for a while, and then asked :

"…Nala ? Girl ?"

"…Wether it's a boy or a girl, their names aren't simba or nala, they're lions. And lionness. Simba and Nala are characters in a movie."

The boy looked at his brother, confused, then looked back at his plushy lion and asked, to make sure :

"…Not Simba ?"

"Lion."

"…'ion ?"

"Yes."

"That, not Nemo ?"

OH ! They were making progress ! So far, Thomas didn’t really listen to Damian when he tried to teach him animal names, and just gave them names of Disney characters !

Now, he was pointing at his stuffed clown fish, asking wether he was a “Nemo” or not ! PROGRESS !

Damian smiled internally. Thinking it was cute, you and Bruce never did much to correct your son, which Damian found frustrating. But here they were, him finally gaining grounds !

“Right, not Nemo. Clown fish.”

“On fish.”

“Clown. CL-OWN”.

“O-N.”

“K-K. LL. AON. Repeat after me Thomas, Clown.”

“...Cl...cl...clnown ?”

“Clown.”

“CLOWN !”

“YES !”

“CLOWN FISH !”

Thomas said proudly, showing his plushy. And Damian felt a rush of pride.Yes. That was it. Clown fish. He learned a new thing. And...And he probably wouldn’t have learned it yet if it wasn’t for him ?

Oh. So a big brother also kinda had the role of a teacher. Interesting.

And as Thomas ran to his father and screamed “CLOWN FISH” at him, Damian couldn’t help but being proud of him. Even though their father was clearly confused, as the little boy now was running to Alfred to show him he knew what a clown fish was, and didn't give further explanations to Bruce.

“Clown fish ?”

The big scary bat repeated, utterly confused. By a three years old. What was it again ? Best detective in the world ?

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

“GWAYSON !”

“No Thomas, no, I’m Dick, not Grayson !”

“...Dick ?”

“Yes ! Damian, stop teaching him that my name is Grayson ! Ugh. I swear, he hangs out wayyyyy too much with you. I need to spend more time here...”

Damian grinned slyly, and Dick rolled his eyes. Thomas was growing up fast, and it made sense that he sometimes seemed closer to Damian, whom he saw the most.

Dick and Jason had their own place, and both Cass and Tim were busy with college. Damian was still in high school, and a lot home.

Although they weren’t seeing each others as much as he wished, the youngest Wayne and the oldest one still were extremely close.

In fact, Thomas was very close to all his siblings. They almost were all like second (or third, or fourth) father, and mother. They were so much older than him, of course they’d have this sort of status at time.

Their parents would take a lot care of him, and he was also very much a “daddy’s and momma’s boy” (like all his siblings really, though they’d never admit it).

But Thomas did spend a lot of time with Damian, and wether it was on purpose or not, he took a lot after his mannerism and such...just like Damian used to copy his older sibling mannerism, and so on and so forth.

“Gwayson” though, he could avoid.

Dick rolled his eyes again, and smirked at Damian, before returning to play with Thomas.

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

“Thursday, July 23rd 20??, Thomas : 4 years old.

Today, father and mom told me I was to take a night off and not to go on patrol. And that was a very big inconvenience. I had things planned, to prove my valor. I was about to sneak out anyway when (...)”

Damian, his costume on, made sure his parents were busy before starting to come in action.

First, he had to wait for his father to go on patrol, and join his other siblings out. And for his mom to get in front of the Batcomputer to monitor everything.

Then, he had to wait for Alfred to put Thomas to bed, and to go himself sleep, the baby phone near him, just in case, even though Thomas was already 4 now and had full nights. The butler would never just leave him like that, even if his room wasn’t too far.

Finally, he'd just have to sneak out by...

“DAMDAM !”

Damian jumped in the air, surprised, and turned around.

His little brother was right there, in front of him, smiling widely.

“Thomas ? How did you get here ?”

“I jumped out of bed, and walked.”

Thomas said the most natural way ever, as if it was obvious how he got there, while it was almost 1 am and was supposed to be in bed.

“It’s way past your bed time buddy.”

“I can’t sleep. Mama and daddy awe not hewe. Cassie and Tim either. Alfwed is sleeping !”

“Well you should be sleeping too !”

“But I can’t ! I just told you !”

There was a short silence between the two, and...Oh. Oh he dared.

Thomas was giving his older brother his world famous “puppy eyes” (a method he directly stole from Damian, of course). And as usual, it worked.

Damian took his mask off, sighed and said :

“You want a bed time story ?”

“YES !”

And without invitation, the boy jumped on his brother’s bed, slipped under the covers, and waited patiently for Damian to go fetch the book they were currently reading.

“(...) Continuing last entry, (July 23rd)

And then Thomas fell asleep in my lap, and I realized something. I guess it was good, to have a night off. If I went out, I would’ve never made this important discovery : Tonight, I have learned that to be with the ones I love is enough. And that I do not need to chase after anything else to be happy.

It’s a discovery I thought I made long ago, but as I felt more big brother than ever after reading him a story, it truly hit me. Being me, and being with them...It’s enough. I don’t need to have more. And maybe, maybe being a big brother means to simply be there when you feel lonely ? Like Thomas, tonight, as our parents were away, and none of our other siblings were there. Like me too, when I had nightmares and went to hide in Cass, Dick, Jason, or Tim’s bed...whoever was available when mom and dad weren’t.

Mom and dad. They do their best. And their best makes them the best parents anyone could wish for. But they have a lot to do, wether in the day or at night. So sometimes, it comes to me. Or to my older siblings, to take care of each others. To take care of Thomas. We have to be there for each others, always. Being a big brother means taking the time to be there. Simple.”

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

“Look Damian, it’s a freakin’ elephant !!”

“Um, what did you say ?”

“It’s a freakin’ elephant !!”

Damian looked around at the disapproving looks he got, and couldn’t care less. Of course, he wasn’t particularly thrilled about his little brother using “freaking” but oh well. It was to be expected, when everyone around him used it (and in some cased *cough* Jason and you *cough* used even worst).

But as Damian came towards his little brother, he realized something. Something that made him burst out laughing.

Thomas was starting to read on his own now.

It was exciting, to witness Thomas’ progress as he slowly but surely learned how to read. And it felt so nice, to participate in said progress. To be there every steps of the way.

Damian shared the pride Thomas felt whenever he showed his parents how well he’d gotten at reading.

And it was so nice, to see his mom and dad congratulates both of them…Thom because he really started to read well, and Damian for helping him out.

Far were the frustrating days when Thomas was a stubborn toddler that refused to call animals by their “actual names”.

Damian spend many hours trying to explain to his younger brother that no, mice weren’t called “Mickey” and elephants “Dumbo” !

Nowadays, the little boy knew what the animals’ name actually were. Which didn’t mean no incident ever happened…Like today.

It was Thomas’ sixth birthday and he asked to go to the zoo (Damian definitely had an impact on that boy).

“Look Damdam, it’s a freakin’ elephant !!”

The boy said excitedly, pulling his brother’s sleeve and pointing at the elephant’s massive enclosure. Damian shook his head, slightly shocked.

Not because his brother just called him “Damdam” (it was the nickname Thomas gave him long ago, when he couldn’t pronounce things quite right, and it just stuck), but because Thomas’ words were very much unlike him.

Their parents were a bit further, being disgustingly cute together, holding hands and all, and trusting Damian to keep an eye on Thomas (they knew he’d never let that kid out of his sight, plus Damian was almost an adult, now, he was responsible…sometimes).

“What did you say, Thomas ?”

“It’s a freakin’ elephant !”

The boy seemed so proud of himself. Damian knew elephants were some of his brother’s favorite animal, but he just couldn’t get over the fact that his precious little brother just used the word “freaking”, even if it really wasn’t a bad one.

That’s when Damian noticed it. The plaque giving informations about which kind of elephant it was. …His laughter resonated in the entire zoo. Both you and Bruce went to see what happened, and were face by a son shaking with laughter, and another little one that seemed very confused. When you asked what happened, Damian barely manage to say, pointing at the enclosure next to you :

“It’s a freakin’ elephant !”

And there, there came the laughter.

Yes. Yes it was an “freakin’ elephant”…Or, for those who weren’t as new at reading as Thomas was, an “African elephant.

Damian later shared what just happened with his older siblings, and they in turn gave him many occurrences of him being naive or such sometimes.

Like that time Jason made him believe that the hays in fields covered with white plastics were marshmallows’ fields...But instead of being vexed, Damian laughed with them.

Because that was what being a little sibling meant. And being the older one meant to see the evolution the small one went through, witness it all, and help out. Be there.

Finally. Finally Damian felt like he truly understood, what it was to be a big brother ?

**********

“Saturday, July 12th 20??, Thomas : 6 years old.

It took me six years, but I think I know now. After countless study and experiment. After spending hours and hours with Thomas. I think I know what it means to be a big brother.

First I had to understand what being a sibling meant. And that was easy. I had good model. Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass. They’re the best older siblings you can wish for (after me, of course). They helped me understand so much...Thanks to them, I finally got what it was, to be a sibling. And here it is :

Being siblings means our bond is stronger than any outside force, and we always have someone to lean on. It means late night pillow talks, awkward phone conversations, and insane laughter. It means calling each others over for no reason other than to sit in silence or talk for hours about nothing. One minute I'll be talking to one of my brother about Harry Potter, and the next I'll be talking to my sister about the newest music we're listening to.

But being an older brother...Being an older brother goes beyond just that. When you’re the youngest, sure you’re there for them, and you help out. But most of the time, you’re the one being helped, and having the most support. While still having fun ?

Being an older brother, it's keeping that balance between letting out my inner child (which I didn’t even know I had for the longest time, and was let out thanks to my older siblings at first) but still looking out for my little brother.

Basically, it means having a free therapist and the greatest confidante you could ask for. I went to my older brothers and sister many times, in time of need. And Thomas comes to me often, too. When it’s things we can’t tell our parents, you know ?

Being an older brother means being there for your little one through thick and thin. There were many times I had to stand up for Thomas even when it was difficult, whether it was to our parents or someone else. And there were even more times when Dick, Jason, Tim or Cass stood up for me.

But it also means being a little strict at times. I came to realize that when Dick told me to do something, or Tim, or any of them...It came more from the fact they wanted me to not get into trouble than anything else, and that...That I realized with Thomas. Sometimes, you have to tell your little sibling what to do. But some other times, it’s totally ok to let go.

Being a big brother means loving and supporting your little sibling no matter who or what they choose to be or do. That’s what my brothers and sister showed me, and my parents too. And that’s what I discovered with my own little brother. So what if we didn’t have all the same interest ?

Being a big brother means celebrating individuality and being proud of the fact that your little brother/sister is a part of your family. I’m glad we’re all different, with my siblings. And I’ll never make Thomas feel bad for that. It’s good, that he’s the calmest out of all of us, and had a different kind of life.

Maybe being an older brother means that occasionally, I take advantage of the fact I can tell Thomas what to do (and how easily he listens to me), but...I am his biggest fan. If he falls, I will always pick him back up (right after finishing laughing, like Jason would say).

Yes. It took me six years, but I think I finally know what being a big brother means. I’m glad, because this is the last page of this logbook.

One day, I think I’ll give it to you, Thomas. Just in case. If you’re going through a tough time, or you’re not sure of who you really are. To remind yourself I went through the same thing.

To remind yourself I had to write, for six years, certain important interactions I had with you so I would understand a simple concept such as “being a big brother”.

And that Dick did too. It wasn’t easy for him to go from a circus life with his parents to Wayne Manor with mom and dad, who were both rather young at the time, and inexperienced.

Jason came from the street, rejected by everyone. Do you think it was easy for him to acclimate to a life where he could finally be at peace ? Nope. And then, when he died and came back ? Ask him, and you’ll know.

Cass came a long way. Now, she speaks a lot, especially to you. But she used to be “mute”. And had a hard life. You should ask her, sometimes.

Tim struggled with being ignored all his life, and then he came in and suddenly had siblings, and “real” parents. Then I came along and fucked things up a bit (don’t swear)...but he came through, understanding what a big brother was supposed to be.

We all came through. Mainly because we had each others. So please Thomas, if you ever feel down, just come to me. Or to them. To us. We’re your older siblings, and that what it means.

I’m here for you. We’re here for you. Forever.”

The end

__________________________________________________

So, y’all know I was very nervous about posting this. I hope it wasn’t a total fail and you enjoyed reading it ? Thank you for reading, and as usual, if you liked it and all, comments and reblogs are always more than welcomed :). Here we go. See you next time with another story. Now, I’m going to go hide in a whole out of fear that you guys will hate this and how different it might be from other stories (as it’s mainly Damian/Thomas centric).

For those who do not know who Thomas is and are curious, here are the stories from my main Batmom timeline in which he appears : The Great Mall adventure, Master of Diaper, Shaky steps and bad teaching, Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, How do you make babies ?, Wild Child 2, “We want them back” and After Batmom’s death

CLICK HERE FOR ALTERNATE ENDING

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chacusha · 3 years

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DS9 Companion liveblogging (3/14)

From 2x01 “The Homecoming” to 2x13 “Armageddon Game”:

“Quark’s alter-ego, Armin Shimerman, was delighted to discover that Season 2 would establish him as quite ‘a ladies’ man,’ with liaisons of one sort or another in ‘Rules of Acquisition’ and ‘Profit and Loss’ and numerous flirtations in between. ‘I believe Quark’s had more relationships than anyone else on the show,’ Shimerman notes with pleasure.” This is cute. I like how no one is a bigger booster of Quark and Ferengi than Shimerman <3

On Bajoran fashion: “Kira’s recreational garb in the episode [2x02 “The Circle”], and also her outfit from the mission to the Hutet labor camp in ‘The Homecoming,’ represent a deliberate shift in Bajoran costuming enacted by Costume Designer Robert Blackman. ‘The color palette remained the same, the rust, green, and gold earth tones, but the textures changed,’ explains Blackman. ‘During the first season, the clothes on background Bajorans were flat-finished,’ a reflection of what the producers liked at that time. But as the show moved into its second season, says Blackman, ‘they felt that the clothing needed to have a rougher texture, that the wardrobe looked too sleek, like something you’d see at the Sherman Oaks Galleria’—a place made notorious in the 1980s by Frank Zappa’s satirical song ‘Valley Girl.’ Thus, Blackman chose to use loose knits, crochets, and ‘things over things’ for Kira’s off-duty clothes, ‘so that you would get a kind of buildup of texture on a Bajoran background.’ Blackman notes that the shift in costume design had synergy with changes in the look of the station’s Promenade. ‘It became more bazaarlike, with banners and more neon. It had been too utilitarian, too perfect.’”

For 2x04 “Invasive Procedures”: I didn’t realize the woman guest star in this episode also played the scientist in “Little Green Men.” And Tim Russ was one of the Klingons in this episode!

Interesting notes here on how this episode reveals sides of the characters that hadn’t been seen before: Bashir showing genuine affection for Jadzia; Sisko handling a hostage situation and in an up-close fight; Jadzia young and vulnerable and afraid without the Dax symbiont in her; Quark going far beyond the harmless criminal schtick he normally has and Kira drawing a line with him.

It surprises me that 2x05 “Cardassians” is really Garak’s SECOND appearance. He appears in the second ep of season 1 and then disappears for a whole season?! He becomes such a regular part of the cast and his closeness with Bashir is so well established and convincing that I feel like I falsely remembered him being around more than he actually was (onscreen).

I feel a bit dumb but I didn’t realize that “laying pipe” had, like, a non-sexual meaning? Ira Behr: “How do we take Garak and lay pipe?” Me: Oh my.

Anyway, interesting note that this is the first episode to establish a link between the Cardassian characters, Garak and Dukat.

I like this note on Garak learning to see Cardassian politics through Bashir’s eyes:

“When offers of wine and women fail to win over Kot, Quark appeals to Odo for help. Although the constable enjoys seeing Quark squirm, he agrees to look into the situation.” - More suggestive Quodo lmao.

I love everything about this:

The episode synopsis in this book says “Odo had become even more suspicious a short time later when he spotted Pallra kissing Dukat.” I got confused because I was like, "I don’t remember THAT happening." Looks like it was in the script and probably filmed but was cut at the editing stage (I’m guessing):

Odo comes out of a turbolift... moves down the corridor... stops at a corner as he hears voices: PALLRA (O.S.) Goodnight. GUL DUKAT (O.S.) Trust me. You have nothing to worry about. Odo peeks around the corner to see Gul Dukat is standing at Pallra's door... kissing her... Odo moves back behind the wall, reacting. ANGLE - ON DUKAT AND PALLRA as they break their kiss, Dukat smiles and she goes inside... he walks toward Odo, turns the corner and as he passes where Odo used to be, there is now a picture on the wall of Dukat and it's crooked... he walks by it, then stops, looks curiously at the picture, straightens it and leaves.

(Interesting that this demonstrates Odo using his shapeshifting for the first time to discreetly observe people.)

Interesting notes on 2x09 “Second Sight” about why the episode was unexpectedly weak. Interesting because I also thought that episode was weak but I wasn’t sure why. The reasons listed in the book are that they changed the love plotline from Bashir to Sisko, and the terraformer character ended up changing quite a bit and eventually ended up more eccentric and egotistical rather than tortured. The first one I agree changes the story quite a bit because I feel like Sisko is a bit too sensible to get much attached to a nice woman he meets for like a few seconds at a time, but Bashir would probably be intrigued and easily drawn in. I think the episode is an important one for Sisko, though, because it indicates he’s started to heal from Jennifer’s death, but other than that, the emotional stakes just seemed off/not there.

Interesting notes on all the Trek actor connections there are in the 2x10 “Sanctuary” episode.

“But somehow, aside from some positive comments about the racquetball sequences, the episode [2x11 “Rivals”] seems to have struck out with both viewers and crew. ‘Our e-mail fans really liked the tight suit that Bashir wore in the matches.’ Robert Hewitt Wolfe grins. ‘They liked that a lot.’” - lmao

I kind of liked "Rivals," though? It's not a very memorable episode if I'm being honest, but I liked seeing a character who is as slimy as Quark and the Bashir/O'Brien one-sided rivalry was comedy gold, and it's an important episode for establishing their relationship?

I did not know that the swindler character in this episode was the same race as Guinan, and originally intended to be her son! Also, he was originally conceived as a recurring rival for Quark, but the competitive dynamic didn’t really gel between the two so that was dropped. Probably okay, though, since we eventually got Brunt instead.

Interesting how there originally was the idea for Rene Auberjonois to play both Odo and Mora, and for Armin Shimerman to play both Quark and Ishka (lol), but in both cases the time-consuming makeup procedure made that intractable.

Not much to say about 2x13 “Armageddon Game” except it’s another good Bashir and O’Brien episode and Rosalind Chao is a great actress.

#book liveblogging #ds9 companion liveblogging #star trek: deep space nine #st ds9

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the-real-tc · 4 years

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Fic UPDATE! Wide River to Cross: Homecoming

Author’s Note: So close. We're so close now, dear readers. Thanks for sticking with me this far; not much longer now. I promise. As you'll see from the events in this chapter, it will be impossible to prolong the agony. (Who remembers the actual agony while watching Season 7, wondering what had happened between Jack and Lisa? I remember that agony...) All that aside, the good part about how long this story has taken me is that plot lines that have occurred down the line can be worked in, and they can make some semblance of sense. I hope. Anyway, here's the latest chapter.

Chapter 22: Homecoming

In the darkness of night, the tree-lined drive seemed eerily foreign to Lisa as the town car bore both her and Rachel to their familial estate. Though it was a view she had seen thousands of times in her life, this particular return to Fairfield granted her no trace of comfort or sense of homecoming. It was bordering on close to ten months that she had been absent—one of the longest spells she had been away since her past marriage to Dan and subsequent move to the USA.

Lisa could not help but recall other lengthy absences from Fairfield, particularly in her adolescence when she had attended boarding school in France with Rachel. While she had enjoyed those times away—thanks to her love of French culture and many outings with her doting Aunt Evelyn—the inevitable homesickness was alleviated only upon return. Now, she felt like a stranger returning to a strange place, creeping in like some interloper.

Like a thief in the night, she thought to herself wryly, fighting the encroaching discomposure without much success.

“We’re here, Rach,” Lisa whispered, giving her younger sibling a gentle nudge.

“Huh? Oh, thanks,” Rachel mumbled sleepily. “I didn’t realise I nodded off.”

She smiled slightly, watching as Rachel rubbed bleary eyes before finishing off with a long yawn. Rachel had endured only one flight; Lisa had needed three to return to Alberta. Exhaustion was indeed beginning to overwhelm her, but there was a nervous tension buzzing through her veins, keeping her on an unusual level of alertness. Now that she was back in Hudson, the mere thought of being in the same town as Jack—and potentially encountering him anywhere—set her mind spinning. How would such a meeting play out? What words could pass her lips to express to him all that was in her heart? What words, if any, would he have to say to her?

Security lights illuminated the exteriors of the stables, dispelling the shadows. Night checks would have already been completed by this hour. All was quiet now, though Lisa knew Harry Wilkes would probably still be up in his office, burning the midnight oil while waiting for their arrival.

Good ol’ Harry, Lisa thought with affection. He had been such a constant presence in her life since she was a little girl, working his way up from the very bottom as a stable hand to head groomsman. Matthew Stillman had come to trust the man with just about everything, and Lisa had done the same. Harry was dedicated to the care of the horses in a way that went beyond what was expected of a mere hired hand. Anyone else would have retired from the position by now, but Harry was still logging the same hours as he had during the past forty-five years as a Fairfield employee. He had been there through the lean years and through the successful ones.

Without her realising it, a long pout pulled at Lisa’s face as the car pulled to a stop in front of the sprawling ranch house. She knew Harry was not thrilled with the idea of her selling Fairfield, even though he was guaranteed a handsome severance package. The rest of the staff might be keen on staying on with new owners; Harry would not—Lisa was certain of that.

“Why the long face?” Rachel asked, looking over at her. “Something wrong?”

“Hmm?” Lisa shook herself. “Oh, no. It’s just that... I-I don’t think Harry is pleased with my decision to sell, that’s all.”

“So Harry’s still working here, eh?” Rachel said, lips quirking into a lop-sided smile. “Dad really lucked out when he hired him. He’s been here since before I was even born. Good ol’ Harry.”

“I honestly don’t think I could have managed without him when Dad got sick,” Lisa mused out loud.

Sure enough, the door to the Fairfield business offices opened to reveal the man in question, silhouetted against the interior lights. He waved jauntily at them, and Lisa intuited he was intent on helping them unload their luggage.

“C’mon,” she said to Rachel as she opened her door. “Let’s get out before he gets the idea we’re going to let him carry everything into the house. He’s been up all night waiting; he’s got to be tired after working all day.”

“Right,” Rachel said in agreement, though she was staving off another yawn of exhaustion.

“Ah, the two prettiest girls in Hudson have made their triumphant return,” Harry greeted them affectionately; paternally.

“Oh, Harry,” Lisa said with a chagrined laugh, “I don’t know about ‘triumphant’, and after travelling all day, we look like something the cat dragged in.”

“Ha! Speak for yourself, sis,” Rachel interjected merrily. “Harry, flattery gets you everywhere. It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise, Rachel.”

The three gathered for a warm group hug. As Lisa guessed moments earlier, the next words out of Harry’s mouth were an offer to bring their luggage inside.

“No, no, you take it easy Harry,” Lisa quickly stated. “You’ve had a long day, too. Rachel and I can manage just fine.”

“Nonsense,” Harry said, reaching for the largest of the pieces the chauffeur had just deposited from the trunk. “Your father would be horrified if he saw me standing by idly while you two dragged all this stuff by yourselves.”

“Chivalry isn’t dead in Hudson, I see,” Rachel quipped, following the older man with her carry-on and a smaller suitcase.

“Thanks, Harry,” Lisa said after everything was sitting in the spacious foyer.

“Happy to do it, Lisa,” Harry said. “Welcome home.”

“Yeah... for however long that’s going to be,” Lisa sighed.

“It’s going to be hard seeing this place go,” Harry uttered with a wistful air. “Fairfield has been a big part of Hudson ever since you made it the success it’s become, Lisa. This town won’t be the same without it—or you.”

Not unkindly, Lisa asked: “Is this your way of trying to talk me out of selling?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. I know an old fella like me who’s on his way to retirement can’t interfere with the business decisions of his boss, but you know this place has always been more than just a ’job’ for me.”

“I know,” Lisa said warmly, reaching out to touch his arm in a show of understanding. “And I thank you for everything you’ve done from the day my father hired you to this present time.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, placing a hand over hers for a few moments. “I should be on my way. See you in the morning.”

“Of course.”

Harry turned to make his exit, but hesitated on the threshold. “There is something...”

Lisa waited expectantly. “What is it?” she asked when he did not continue.

“Hmmph. Nah, it can wait ‘til tomorrow,” he muttered. “Goodnight, ladies.”

“’Bye,” Rachel said, trying to suppress another yawn.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Lisa said, closing the door behind him, slightly perturbed by the man’s cryptic parting words. Whatever it was, she would learn of it the next day.

As cranky as Jack was at the notion of having the woolly creatures on his land, Georgie’s 4H Club project meant sheep at Heartland was good for something. At least the kid could learn about the rearing of an animal she could handle. Lambs weren’t liable to trample you, gore you, buck you off, or kick you in the head. It was decidedly not fun chasing down the specific lamb Georgie and Olivia wanted, especially since they could not agree on which one was the best one for their needs. Jack half-suspected they were changing their fickle minds on purpose, just for the spectacle of his sprawling about in the grass and weeds, grabbing at this lamb or that lamb.

It should have been Tim’s job seeing after the sheep, but he picked that very week to head to Moose Jaw to visit with his son, Shane, so they could spend Thanksgiving together. Why was it his ex-son-in-law continued to be such an irritant and an imposition in his life? If not for Lou and Amy, the man would never again have darkened the door at Heartland.

After Georgie and Olivia finally settled on a lamb and Jack successfully secured it, he decided a little break was necessary. It was no use getting worked up over the flock again; also, the girls did not need his grumpy mood to ruin things for them. It was trial enough for Georgie to be partnered with Olivia, he knew, so he did his best to keep his cool while in their company.

Once inside the kitchen, he brewed a cup of tea and eased into a chair in the living room—the kitchen having been taken over by Peter and his laptop. The man really needed office space of some kind while he was here, Jack mused.

Why Tim felt the need to saddle his son-in-law with the nickname “The General” was beyond Jack, but then again, Tim knew exactly how to push other people’s buttons. The recent fiasco involving Tricia and her near-delinquent daughter, Jade, at the fishing cabin was a fine example of that.

Jack sipped at his tea, trying to resolve in his mind yet again why Tim possessed such an unbridled sense of entitlement. He lacked what Jack’s grandmother would have called social graces. His unsolicited comments could be tactless. The frustrating thing was that such comments were often uncomfortable truths no one else wanted to face or accept.

When Tim had first asked how the Arizona trip had been, Jack recalled initially telling him to mind his own business. Tim, ignoring Jack’s desire for privacy had asked, point-blank:

“You missed Lisa, didn’t you?”

”Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?!” Jack had retorted. “I had a swell time.”

”You’re not fooling me, old man. What did you do with yourself down there the whole time? You couldn’t have been having that much of a ‘swell time’ because you cut it short and came home a week early!”

“I did happen to have some good times, thank you very much!”

“Yeah? Doing what?” Tim had challenged.

“Saddleback trip. Lookin’ at real estate. Meeting nice people. Camping and fishing.”

“Meeting nice people and fishing, eh? Catch anything good down there in Arizona?” Tim asked suggestively.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I hooked a very nice catfish.”

“Oooh! A catfish!” Tim had crooned, pretending to be impressed. “How big was it?”

Knowing he would not be able to lie any further, Jack had groaned in annoyance and decided it was time to cease this line of questioning. “Dunno,” he had sullenly replied. “It pulled free from the hook before I could reel it in. The sun was going down by then. I quit trying after that.”

“Ha!” Tim had laughed triumphantly. “Dinner out of a can that night, right?”

Jack grit his teeth. “No, I forgot to bring a can opener. Are you done, now?”

“You ‘forgot’ to bring a can opener?” Tim crowed in derision. “So why didn’t you just use your knife to open the can, or did you forget to bring a knife, too?”

“Oh, would you just shut up already!”

Jack stalked off and was thus out of earshot when a gleeful, self-righteous Tim muttered, “Ohhh, he totally missed Lisa.”

It was already after 10:00 a.m. when Lisa awoke on Saturday morning. The inevitable jet-lag felt especially pronounced this time around, and she groaned when she realised the lateness of the hour. She so wanted to soak up a few more hours of sleep, but knew work was waiting. There was the matter Harry mentioned the night before which she wanted to get to the bottom of, but the first order of business absolutely had to be contacting the real estate agent.

After a quick shower, she shared a hurried breakfast with Rachel. Her sister was still drowsy and not much in the mood to talk while they ate. When Rachel drifted back to bed for a nap, Lisa finally got on the phone to the realtor, glad they were indeed open that day despite it being a holiday long weekend. After all those months in France of dithering on this, it felt almost anti-climactic the sale would finally be happening. The deed is done, Lisa thought after hanging up. She was not sure what emotions she was experiencing now that Fairfield would officially be on the market.

Ruefully, she thought, I really should call Dan and tell him the ‘good’ news. In all truth, her ex-husband was the last person she wanted to speak to after all their less-than-pleasant email correspondences over the past several months. I wonder what Jack would think if I called him and told him I was back in Hudson? Lisa stopped herself cold. Where did that thought come from?! I would have to explain to him that I’m finally selling the old place and moving to France for good, wouldn’t I? I’d have to come up with some excuse as to why I didn’t even tell him I was coming back.

She stood from behind her desk and decided it was time to check in on Harry, brushing aside any further thoughts of both of her exes.

“Ah, Lisa! Good morning,” Harry greeted Lisa brightly when she knocked on the business office door.

“Good morning, Harry. I just got off the phone with the real estate people. Someone’s going to be by later this week to properly assess the property and get some signs posted and such.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod of understanding.

“Harry, about that thing you mentioned last night...”

“Oh, yes. That,” Harry said, lowering his voice.

Lisa caught his tone, and interpreted he was about to tell her something she would not particularly enjoy hearing. “Well, what is it?”

“It’s Dan,” Harry said in a manner that spoke volumes of disapproval.

“Dan? What’s he done now?” Lisa asked guardedly.

“You’d better follow me,” Harry said, rising from his seat.

He led Lisa out to the stables where they stopped in front of Fairfield Flyer’s stall. The champion racer seemed strong and healthy, and Lisa looked at her head groomsman, awaiting an explanation.

“Dan and some of his people and vets have been here to see Flyer and Rhapsody quite a few times while you were gone,” Harry started. “Since you have joint ownership, of course I couldn’t stop him.”

“Stop him from doing what?” Lisa asked, instantly on edge. Rhapsody was one of her broodmares.

“From getting all kinds of lab work done—and cell samples taken from Flyer.”

“Cell samples...” Lisa mused out loud.

Harry continued. “Rhapsody is already nine months pregnant. You had no idea, did you?” he asked warily as he studied her reaction. “Don’t answer that. Your expression tells me all I need to know.”

Lisa felt her cheeks flush. “I always did have a lousy poker face,” she grumbled.

“Ah, I should have known he didn’t tell you, but you know I’m not the type to interfere,” a contrite Harry said. “And given the nature of what he was doing, I wasn’t sure if you were both keeping it a secret, or what. Sorry, Lisa.”

“Don’t apologize; this isn’t remotely your fault. It seems I have a call to make to my ‘business partner’. Thanks, Harry.”

She strode out of the stables, absolutely steaming, trying to decide how best to have this conversation with Dan. Cell samples? That could only mean one thing, Lisa concluded, coupled with Dan’s recent talk about getting into horse cloning. He was trying to warm me up to the idea, she now realised.

“Where do you get off cloning Fairfield Flyer without even consulting with me first?!” Lisa exploded when she had Dan on the line.

“Now hold on just a minute, Lisa—” Dan tried to interrupt.

“No, you hold on; I’m not finished,” Lisa hissed through clenched teeth. “Harry told me you’ve been out to Fairfield to see Flyer and Rhapsody. This is the real reason you’ve been so demanding about the finances, isn’t it? You weren’t concerned about the Avignon facility—you were paying to have Flyer cloned. How many other horses did you have lined up for the procedure?”

From Dan’s silence, Lisa knew she had hit the nail on the head.

“When were you going to tell me?” Lisa fumed. “When were you going to tell me the Avignon deal was all a sham and that you were really using my investment funds to clone Flyer and God knows how many others?”

“Okay, simmer down,” Dan said, trying to placate her. “Avignon is still a go. But the focus has shifted slightly. It could be the best equine cloning facility in Europe, Lisa. If the clone of Flyer is a success, we’re going to take it to Avignon as the poster boy for the procedure in race horses. We’d be one of the first out of the gate doing this. We could make history, Lisa, because the Racing Association is bound to come around once more people get on board.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Lisa had to keep herself from shouting. “You go behind my back, and-and then try to tell me you’re shifting the focus of the breeding facility we planned in France?”

“All that stuff you learned in that Lexington conference about performance markers is great, Lisa,” Dan said, “but that’s yesterday’s science. Cloning is the future. Do you really want to be left behind?”

Lisa realised she was still too angry to have a rational talk with Dan. “Let’s table that question,” she finally said. “I just got into Hudson late last night, and I’m too tired to deal with this right now. But make no mistake, Dan, I’m not impressed you went behind my back.”

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Dan said, sounding almost relieved. “Hang on, did you just say you’re back in Hudson?”

Lisa clenched her teeth in irritation. “How else do you think I found out about Flyer?”

“Uhhh—Harry told you, didn’t he?”

“Of course Harry told me,” snapped Lisa, relishing the discomfort she heard in Dan’s voice. He sounded as if he were a guilty schoolboy.

“I see,” Dan said in resignation. “Wait, if you’re in Hudson, does that mean you’ve finally put Fairfield on the market?”

“Yes, Dan, you’ll be happy to know I took care of that chore before calling you,” Lisa replied testily.

“Good! That’s great!” Dan exclaimed. “Finally. Look, Lisa, I get you’re upset about the cloning thing. You’re right; I should have included you in that decision. But Flyer is mine, too. I think in time, you’ll see—”

“Ah, but Rhapsody is mine,” Lisa cut in. “You’re still on shaky ground, Dan. As I said just now, we’ll discuss this later. You’ll be lucky if I don’t decide to involve my lawyer with this one.”

She heard his exhalation of discontent, but she frankly did not care. Misappropriation of funds, she thought. Yeah, that has a nice ring to it.

“Come on, Lisa. Are you really going to split hairs like that?” he whined. “Aren’t we business partners in this whole breeding venture?”

It took all the control she could muster not to slam down the phone. Instead, she took a steadying breath before responding. “That didn’t give you the right to use Rhapsody for your cloning experiment without consulting with me first. But what’s done is done. Like I said, I’m not in the mood to discuss this right now. Goodbye.”

Lisa did not wait to hear Dan respond before she hung up the call.

Rachel, having awakened from her nap, was sitting at the breakfast nook in the kitchen, flipping through an old edition of the Hudson Times. When Lisa wandered in, Rachel glanced up and said, “Uh-oh. I know that look. Something’s got you mad.”

Lisa groaned. “Ugh. What tipped you off?”

Rachel smirked. “Yeah, see, there’s this vein that always pops out on your forehead whenever you blow a gasket,” she answered, motioning to her own head.

Grumbling, Lisa swiped a self-conscious hand over her face.

“Hey, it’s not like you get mad often, sis,” Rachel said, trying to lighten the mood. “It must be something big.”

Lisa plopped down wearily across from Rachel. “It’s Dan,” she began. “He’s gone and tried to clone one of my best racers—Fairfield Flyer—without even asking me, first.”

“Oh, wow. Is that even legal?” Rachel asked, folding the paper and putting it aside. “I’m not up on my horse cloning ethics.”

“It is legal,” Lisa said, “but it’s damned expensive, comes with a pile of risk factors, and the Racing Association has yet to accept clones in sanctioned races.”

“Didn’t I read something a couple years ago about clones being accepted for show jumping in the Olympics?” asked Rachel.

Lisa nodded. “Yes. The Fédération Equestre Internationale did announce clones could be entered for equestrian events. I still don’t know what Dan was thinking, though. Flyer is a racer, not a jumper, or dressage. It’s infuriating. And it’s not even about the ethics when it comes to cloning; it’s that Dan was hounding me for months to get Fairfield sold so we could get going on an operation out of Avignon.”

“Avignon?” repeated Rachel.

“Yes. You know I always wanted to retire to France, eventually.”

“Right...”

“Anyway,” Lisa continued, “I sold my share of the Dude Ranch back to Lou, and assumed those funds were going towards funding that Avignon operation. Obviously, Dan was funnelling all of it to help make the payments for the cloning procedure.” She let out another huff of frustration; Rachel eyed her with pity.

“C’mon, Lisa,” Rachel said after several moments of silence. “In the end, a horse is a horse, and we both know you love horses. When Rhapsody foals, you’re going to love that clone. So forget Dan, and focus on making sure Rhapsody stays healthy through the rest of the pregnancy.”

The words were like a thunderbolt, bringing a much-needed dose of reality. Lisa stared at Rachel for a few moments, speechless. “Are you sure you’re the younger sister, here?” she eventually asked with an affectionate smile and shake of her head. “When did you get to be so wise?”

“Oh, I have my moments,” Rachel answered airily.

“Well, I hope there’s more wisdom where that came from,” Lisa said, “because even though you’re right about loving it when it arrives, I get the feeling that clone is going to become more like a monkey on my back.”

Thanksgiving at Heartland was slightly less crowded than usual owing to the absences of Tim and Lou. Everyone was thankful for Jack’s surviving the heart attack and for Amy’s health and recovery after her recent scare with Zeus; Georgie was thankful in particular for her new family and for Phoenix.

At Fairfield, the celebration was slightly more subdued. Figuring this to be their final Thanksgiving together before the family farm passed into new hands, the Stillman sisters spent much of that holiday Monday* reminiscing about older, happier times, and some not-so-happy times, too.

“I used to love it when Aunt Evelyn would come to visit from wherever she had last been,” Lisa remarked as they sat together in the cozy living room, a roaring fire burning in the hearth.

“Remember her second husband?” Rachel snickered.

“Ah, yes. Uncle Merrill,” Lisa said. “With those massive sideburns we always wished he would shave off.”

“Where did she meet him, again?”

“Wales, I think,” Lisa replied. “But he was from Scotland.”

“He claimed he was some Scottish lord, right?” asked Rachel. “I seem to remember that.”

Lisa nodded seriously. “He apparently had the bank account to prove it, or so Aunt Evelyn told me.”

“Well, she was married to him the longest,” Rachel said.

“That’s true,” Lisa said, taking a sip of cider.

“Until he left her for a newer, younger model,” Rachel said.

“And she took him to the cleaners,” chortled Lisa. “Then promptly found herself another millionaire boyfriend.”

“That one didn’t last very long, did it?”

“Oh, a couple years, maybe? Then she had a few other gentlemen friends whose names I forget. Then she married Charles, the wealthy stockbroker from New York. They met on a cruise ship. Divorced him after five years.”

“Aunt Evelyn is addicted to men and to money,” Rachel said. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

“Rachel, there is no nice way to call someone a gold digger,” Lisa said, a peal of laughter breaking forth.

“Ha! You said it; not me!”

“All right, Aunt Evelyn may have her... flaws... but she’s always been good to us,” Lisa said sincerely.

“Yeah... you’re right,” Rachel said. “Though you’re her favourite, you know.”

Lisa cocked her head and frowned at her sister, puzzled by this comment. “Naw. She totally spoiled us both. What d’you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing.” Rachel waved a hand dismissively. “I just got the feeling like she doted on you a little more. That’s all.”

“What? Why?”

Rachel stared at her older sister, considering for a few moments how to proceed. She blew out a breath and said, “Okay, remember that horse you had when we were kids? Silver?”

“Yes,” Lisa said, thinking of the dapple grey mare she got as a rescue. She put aside her mug, sensing Rachel was about to say something she had been wanting to say for a long time, but never had the chance to get it off her chest.

“I remember when Silver got sick a few years later,” Rachel said. “Dad didn’t think he could afford to pay for the surgery.”

“That’s right,” Lisa confirmed. “It was colic. Silver was getting old by that point, so Dad didn’t think the risk was worth it.”

“You know, I didn’t even have my own horse at the time, and Aunt Evelyn swooped in and said she’d pay for the surgery,” Rachel said, voice tainted with the slightest stain of bitterness. “You were seven when you got Silver. I remember, because I thought somehow that’s what I would get when I turned seven, too. Funny, isn’t it? We lived on a horse-breeding farm, and I didn’t get my own horse until I was ten.”

“Rachel, it’s a stupid question... did you even really want your own horse?” Lisa asked carefully.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Of course I wanted my own horse,” she said. “What little girl living in Hudson didn’t ‘want’ her own horse?”

“I know, but ‘wanting’ a horse isn’t the same as loving that horse when you finally get it, is it?”

Lisa thought back to when Rachel did receive her own horse the Christmas after she turned ten, a gift from Evelyn. In the beginning, the girl had been ecstatic, but the excitement had waned, and the horse was sometimes neglected.

“No, it isn’t the same thing,” admitted Rachel. “Look, I don’t mean to sound petty. At the time, I was jealous; I admit it. When I was younger, I thought Aunt Evelyn paying for Silver’s surgery when I didn’t even have my own horse meant she loved you more and was ignoring me.”

“I’m sorry, Rach,” Lisa said sincerely. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Like I said, I felt that way when I was younger. I thought having a horse would make me happy the way it seemed to make you happy; like it made other girls around town happy,” Rachel said. “It wasn’t until later I realised I wasn’t actually a horse-crazy girl like everyone else.”

“No, you were more boy-crazy,” Lisa said, a small smile twitching her lips.

“Ohhh, was I ever,” Rachel said, throwing back her head and casting her eyes to the ceiling.

“Do you ever regret leaving home when you did?” Lisa queried. “I mean, do you ever wish you had waited until you were a little more settled? Aunt Evelyn was willing to pay for your post-secondary education anywhere in the world like she did for me, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. And I keep saying that the timing was probably wrong,” Rachel said. “But I always come back to Ben. He’s the reason I don’t have regrets about that. I love my son more than my own life, Lisa. If I do regret anything is that his childhood probably wasn’t as happy as it could have been because of my stupid relationship mistakes.”

“Well, from what I can see, he’s grown into a fine young man, Rachel,” Lisa said, thinking of the rough patch Ben went through during Rachel’s train wreck of a divorce. “He’s learned some valuable life lessons and he’s working hard now to achieve his goals.”

“I admit I’m proud of him,” Rachel said with a smile. “I’m sorry again for dumping him on you—”

“Oh, stop!” Lisa put up a hand. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. Even though I could have done a better job when he was here, it made me realise raising a child isn’t a cakewalk.”

“No, but it is worth it,” Rachel said. “I look at Ben, and I think at least I did something right in the world.”

“Yeah...” Lisa said softly.

“He did appreciate his time here, Lisa,” Rachel said, getting an inkling of where Lisa’s thoughts might have carried her at that moment.

“I hope so,” Lisa uttered. “Though somehow, I think I acted a little more like Aunt Evelyn: dropping expensive gifts instead of making any meaningful impact on his life that would actually matter.”

“I don’t see it that way at all,” Rachel countered. “You give from the heart, Lisa. You’ve always been the generous type. And with Fairfield’s success came bigger ways to show that generosity. To be honest, I was a bit jealous of your giving nature, too.”

“And if I’m going to be honest, I was a bit jealous of you,” Lisa said seriously.

“Of me?” Rachel said, clearly shocked. “Whatever for?”

“You left home. Had a child. You... didn’t have the weight of responsibility for Fairfield that I had,” Lisa admitted. “I have loved building up the business into the success it is today, but I also thought kids would naturally come along when I was married to Dan. When that didn’t happen, I thought about you and how easy it seemed for you.”

“It wasn’t easy at all, especially when Gary walked out on us,” stated Rachel emphatically. “And I thought I’d have more kids too, when the ex-who-shall-not-be-named came into the picture and seemed like he’d be a great step-father to Ben. We all know how that turned out.”

Lisa bobbed her head slowly, knowing no further words were needed on the subject of the breakup of Rachel’s marriage.

At length, Rachel murmured: “I’m glad I came out here one last time. There was a time I couldn’t wait to leave; relieved you were the older daughter that Dad would look to for running the business. I don’t think I’ve ever truly appreciated how much of a burden you’ve shouldered.”

“We’ve both had our burdens and hardships,” Lisa said, looking at the glowing embers in the fireplace.

“I mean it, Lisa,” Rachel insisted. “Thank you for being there for Dad, and for running Fairfield all these years. It’s just a shame he didn’t live long enough to see the success it’s become.”

“A success that’s now coming to a close,” Lisa said quietly. “When I pick up stakes and move to Avignon, it’s going to be a whole new business.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Rachel commented. “You haven’t heard from Jack. You said it yourself that it’s time to make a fresh start.”

“I know,” Lisa said. “And you’re right. But being here in Hudson, well, it’s brought back a lot of memories with him. Good memories. It hurts to finally realise that there won’t be any more of those.”

“Well, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a fine French gentleman in Avignon,” Rachel said with a mirthful chuckle.

“Oh, no! The last thing I need is to turn into Aunt Evelyn,” Lisa scoffed, chagrined at her sister’s comment. Her thoughts suddenly took her to Toulon and the foul experience she had with Alphonse. It struck her his marriage to the young Audrey had come and gone that spring, and their baby was probably due any time. I sure dodged a bullet with that one, she decided, even if my “friends” thought we would make a good match.

“You could never be like Aunt Evelyn,” Rachel said. “You’re not a gold-digger, and the money you’ve made came through hard work. And the money doesn’t really matter to you, either, does it?”

“I won’t lie,” Lisa replied. “The money matters, because I got to do things and go places I always dreamed of doing and seeing when I was a kid. But what’s money if you don’t have people you love to share it with?”

Rachel looked at her sister with sympathy. “You really did love him, didn’t you?”

Lisa returned Rachel’s glance. “With every fiber of my being. My whole world stopped when Lou told me about his heart attack. Nothing mattered after nearly losing him like that. I just wish I had the chance to tell him so.”

“Look, it’s not my place to tell you what to do or what not to do, Lis,” Rachel said. “But you’re here in Hudson now, and he’s here. This could be your last chance to tell him.”

A slight shiver ran down Lisa’s spine at the notion of facing Jack and baring her heart as she had tried so many months ago, when she made the horrible mistake of renting the hospital bed for him. “I already squandered that ‘last chance’, Rach,” Lisa said sadly. “It’ll take a miracle to convince Jack to see me again. I blew it, and now I’m paying the price.”

Thanksgiving dishes were washed and put away; night checks on the horses were finished; everyone was tucked away in bed. Jack, however, lingered by himself in the living room before the fire, sipping on a hot toddy. There was indeed much to be thankful for, he knew, particularly when it came to his own life. There’s much to regret, too, he thought, watching as the flames licked at the seasoned logs. While life moved on, his heart still pined for her. He was still stuck in a place of uncertainty and inaction; of wanting to reach out and of pulling back again. It’s been ten months. Lisa has moved on, surely. It would be wrong of me to call her now, after all that’s gone on between us, and mess up whatever it is she has going. I should be thankful we had whatever it is we had and let her go. With that, Jack pulled himself up from the couch, doused the fire, and crept into his bedroom. As he closed his eyes, his last thought before falling asleep was that given his angry parting words with Lisa, spoken in the heat of the moment, he was undeserving of a second chance with her. Nothing will ever bring us back together; that’s a bridge too far.

*To my non-Canadian readers: Thanksgiving in Canada is celebrated on the 2nd Monday of October.

TBC

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Loki's Daughter

TITLE: Loki’s Daughter CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 4: Healing

AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around.

RATING: Fic: M for triggering content; this chap: PG-13 (it’s mostly fluff)

AO3 Link: Here NOTES/WARNINGS: Nothing special for this chapter. It’s pretty fluffy, honestly. Enjoy!

A heavy feeling of dread began to fall over Loki. He had no idea how he would save Kuna. He had no food for her. He supposed he could melt some snow and ice for water, but he would need a container to put it in. He sat down cross-legged and concentrated his seidr on his pocketverse. He was sure he must have saved a pot or pan or bowl or something over the centuries and tucked it away in there. He imagined a pot in his mind, focusing hard on the thought.

Before him, a gold-plated but dented pan appeared in his hands. He chuckled as he remembered why he had hidden this Asgardian dish in his pocket. Nearly a thousand years ago, when he and Thor were children themselves, they had been playing around in the palace near the kitchens.

The chefs and servants hated them being down there because they were always causing a ruckus. One particular cook despised Loki. She hated Loki more because he would pinch apple tarts fresh off the trays and Thor would tattle on him. She would chase Loki away, wielding this, her favorite cooking pan, and Thor would get an apple tart as a treat for telling on him.

He remembered one day, he and Thor were messing around in the kitchens again and being chased by old Igassok – Loki called her ‘Iggy’ and she hated it. She had seen Loki, not Thor, which is why she was following after him, thinking he was down there stealing again.

The brothers both hid in the washroom, behind some barrels holding soap powders and water. Despite her obvious hatred for Loki, they both thought that being chased by her was a fun game. Like being chased by some hulking frost giant with a great club.

She burst into the washroom. The two boys flattened out against the floor behind the barrels. Her heavy footsteps crossed the room. Loki could see her shadow on the floor in the light of the doorway. She walked up to the great washbasin which was filled to the brim with dirty water and dishes.

“Hmm,” she muttered. “Must be seeing things.”

She turned and left the room. They could hear her asking the other servants outside if they’d seen anything. Thor had gotten them all flogged so many times for tattling to father whenever he caught them stealing some of the Palace’s food, that they wouldn’t tell Iggy anything against either of the princes, even if she smacked them upside the head with her pan.

The princes let out their breath and laughed at the old woman as her voice faded away into the next room. Now stuck in the washroom for at least a few minutes while Iggy did a lap around the kitchens, they stared at each other.

“What now?” Loki asked Thor.

He shook his head. “Don’t know.” Looking around, his eyes landed on the pile of dishes above them. Thor smiled at his brother.

“Truth or dare?”

Loki smiled back. “Sure.”

“You first,” Thor said.

Loki was taken aback. His brother never let him go first at anything.

“Truth,” he said, cautiously.

“Why are you so scared of Iggy?”

“That’s easy! She beats me with her pan all the time and father never believes me!”

“You’re just a baby,” Thor teased and quickly followed with, “Okay, my turn. Dare.”

“I am not a baby,” Loki said. “That thing is made of celestial copper! It hurts! She’s already put a dent in it with my head. I still have the bump, look!” He tried to show his brother.

“Whatever,” Thor said, flippantly. “Dare me.”

“Um,” Loki looked around, trying to think of something mean to dare his brother to do to get back at him. He smiled, cunningly. “Fine, then,” he said. “I dare you to steal Iggy’s pan.”

Thor gasped and then smiled dastardly, happily taking up the dare to rob that old hag. Loki grinned. If Thor pulled it off, he would have done something bad and Loki could tell mother on him. That would get him in trouble for sure. On top of it, Iggy wouldn’t have that old pan to beat him with anymore.

“I accept,” Thor said, haughtily.

“Alright, then. Go get it.”

“Fine, I will.”

“Fine, I’ll be in my room.”

“Fine.”

They both snuck out of the room. Loki made a beeline for then nearest exit while Thor made his way through the kitchen after Iggy. Loki had no doubt that his brother would get the pan. He had his ways of convincing people to do what he wanted. Loki was going to sit and wait for his plan to take effect.

Half an hour later, Thor returned to their room with the pan.

“See,” he said, showing Loki. “I told you.”

“Well done,” Loki said, taking it from him.

Thor grinned at him and then bolted out the door, flying down the hallway.

“Father! Father! Loki stole Iggasok’s pan from the kitchens!” he screamed as he fled down the hallway.

Loki panicked. He looked around the room for a place to hide the pan. Maybe, if father couldn’t find the evidence, he would abandon any punishment he could think of for his youngest son. Loki scrambled around the room, testing the best hiding spots but found nothing good enough.

Then, he remembered his mother teaching him about pocketverses. She had only shown him once how to do it. He had had trouble accessing the pocket ever since. After becoming frustrated with it, he just abandoned it. But now, he needed it more than ever. No one, not even the Allfather, could access someone else’s pocketverse. This was his answer, but he was running out of time.

It wouldn’t take long for Thor to reach the court chambers and rouse their father from some meeting with dusty, old men to punish Loki. He plopped down on the floor, pan in hand, and thought with all his might for it to disappear. He moved his hands in the circular motion mother had showed him, but it didn’t work.

Panicking, he tried again and again. He could hear footsteps approaching the doorway. He knew telling the truth would not save him. The truth meant telling father they were down in the kitchens where they should not have been, antagonizing Iggy. The truth meant telling father they were playing some silly game instead of studying or sparring in the courtyard. The truth meant telling father that Loki had tried to get Thor in trouble.

He concentrated as hard as he could, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Go away, go away,” he muttered, making the circular gesture over and over again.

“Loki?” Odin called from the doorway.

His eyes opened. The pan was gone. It wasn’t in his lap anymore. He looked up at his father. Thor was standing by his side, beaming.

“Yes, father?” Loki said, trying to act calm.

“Were you down in the kitchens?” he asked, gruffly. “Did you steal Iggasok’s pan?”

“No, father. I’ve been in here all afternoon…” he said, trying to act as innocent as possible. “I’ve been reading.”

“Is that so?” his father asked, raising the brow above his golden eyepatch.

“Yes, sire. I’ve been reading about dragons today. Did you know that thousands of planet systems have dragons?” he stalled. “And - and there are hundreds, if not thousands, of different species on each planet? That has to be billions of types of dragons all over the universe!”

“Mmm, yes, I suppose so,” Odin muttered. He wasn’t listening to him. Loki watched as his icy, blue eye searched the room. He walked in and passed Loki on the floor. He opened the hamper and looked inside but found nothing. “Where’s your book?” he asked, continuing to interrogate Loki.

“Oh, it’s over here,” Loki said. Thankfully, it wasn’t a complete lie. He loved reading The Natural History of Dragons. It was one of his favorites. He picked it up from the bedside table and brought it to his father.

Odin took it from him and flipped through the pages, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking for another place Loki could have hidden the stolen pan. Thor was pretending to play with his toy warriors in the corner.

Odin closed the book and shoved it into Loki’s chest, striding over to the box where they put their toys. Thor looked pleased. He caught Loki’s eyes as their father’s back was turned and stuck out his tongue at him. Loki made an ugly face back at him.

“Loki,” his mother said from the doorway. Her sudden appearance made him jump. Odin straightened up from the toybox, letting the lid fall. “Don’t make faces at your brother,” she said. It wasn’t much of a scold as a reminder.

“Sorry, mother,” Loki said, looking down at his feet.

“Did you lose something in the toybox, my love?” she addressed Odin. He turned and looked at her, weighing his own options. Did he risk antagonizing a mother’s wrath for such a minor fault of Loki’s or simply drop the subject?

“Mmm, no,” he grumbled and walked by, striding out the door to return to his business. Thor’s jaw dropped in bewilderment at his father’s quick abandonment of Loki’s juryless trial and sweet punishment.

“Thor, darling, close your mouth. It’s not very princely of you,” Frigga said with smirk at her eldest son. She looked down at Loki and winked at him. He looked back at Thor and grinned. It felt so good to see Thor’s plan be thwarted. And even if Loki’s hadn’t gone exactly as planned, he had still silently won this round against his brother.

Loki chuckled to himself as he stared at the pan in his hands in the diamond cave. The fondness of the memory was quickly overtaken by a hollow feeling in Loki’s chest. Now, his brother and father wanted nothing to do but kill him or lock him away. And he would probably never see his mother again.

He shook his head and stood, pan in hand. He looked down at Kuna. He hoped he could quickly get outside and back again without her waking. He waved his hand at the candlelight above, commanding it to stay put this time as he walked through the passageway. He dipped the pan into the snow that had built up nearest the entrance. He didn’t dare try to go out into the open again, lest those snowmen still be guarding the entrance. Taking a small handful of snow for himself, he tasted it, ensuring that there was a zero percent alcohol content this time.

Satisfied, he returned to Kuna. He sat a few meters away from her and put the pan on the floor. The snow began to melt immediately from the warmth of the floor, but Loki would have preferred to boil it first. He conjured up some old linens and pieces of blank parchment from his pocket and built a small fire, this time without blowing himself up in the process.

Once the fire was crackling, he set the pan over it, careful not to snuff it out. He stared into the flames for a while as he waited for the water to boil. He glanced over at Kuna. Rising to his feet, he carefully picked her up and brought her closer to the fire.

She did not wake this time. He watched her chest. There was no movement for a moment and Loki felt a pang of panic and then guilt. Then, her chest rose in a long but shallow breath. She did not have much time. He concentrated once more and tried to summon any sort of food from his pocket, but his hands came up empty.

He dropped his hands in his lap. How was he going to nurse her back to health without any food? He closed his eyes. He needed something to heal her but he had nothing. He was not trained in healing magic, relying more on potions and ingredients or his healing factor for himself in the past. As he sat there, thinking, he felt something cool fall into his hands and opened his eyes. The bottle of blood he had extracted from the kapka on Torileena glinted in his hands.

“That’s it!” he said and flinched, covering his mouth with his hand and looking at Kuna. She did not stir. He sighed, relieved.

He conjured his alembic, a mortar and pestle, and the kapka claws he had taken as well. Kuna’s moron masters had said they could both be used to create healing potions. Loki just had to make a refined composite of the two.

The water was boiling now. He took it from the fire and set it aside to cool. He poured the blood into the alembic and set it on its stand. Using the mortar and pestle, he ground the claws into a powder. For good measure, he conjured up some hawk feathers he had plucked from a very angry mother hawk and placed them in the mortar to grind in with them. The feathers were well known throughout the Realms for their healing properties.

He added the powder to the alembic with a small amount of water and attached the tube to it, angling it into another small vial to catch the composite. He waited. Slowly, the mixture began to bubble in the green glass base. It turned a rather gross shade of yellow. The vapors traveled up the spout and condensed in the bulb above it. The little droplets traveled down the tube and began to fill the container with the newly distilled mixture.

When the vial was full and all the mixture had been distilled, he took it over to Kuna. Gently propping up her head in his hand, he tried to wake her to drink the potion.

“Kuna,” he spoke softly. “Kuna?” Her eyes opened a little. “Here, I need you to drink this, it will make you feel better. No alcohol this time… I hope,” he added.

He tipped the vial to her lips and she drank from it. She swallowed a bit and made a sour face, pushing the vial away. It tasted awful; like rotten meat.

“I know it doesn’t taste very good, but you have to drink all of it.” Loki coaxed her with it again. She frowned but gave in and drank the rest in one big gulp.

“Agh!” Kuna gagged on the liquid but swallowed hard. Her whole body shuddered at the horrible taste. She tried not to heave. She did not want to get sick again. She closed her eyes and waited for the sensation to pass.

She felt a warmth begin to emanate through her body from her tummy. She closed her eyes and concentrated on this strange feeling. It traveled up from her chest, down her arms to her fingers and down from heart to her legs then toes. It felt good. Really good. Like she was being hugged by golden light.

“Mmm,” she breathed. A smile spread across her face. She did not want the feeling to stop.

“How do you feel, Kuna?” Loki asked her. He had been watching her, studying her for any signs of a negative reaction.

“I feel really, really good,” she said, slowly. Her eyes were still closed. Loki couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good,” he said. He was relieved.

“What was that?” Kuna asked. “It tasted really bad.”

“I’m sorry about the taste,” Loki replied. “Do you remember the kapka blood and claws I took from Torileena?”

Kuna gasped. “Are you a maker?”

“Uh. Um. I don’t know what that is. But I do have some skill as an alchemist. I just mixed up a little potion to heal you. I’m glad it worked so well.”

“Woah,” she said, quietly. No maker had ever paid any mind to her. “Thank you, sir.”

“Kuna, you don’t have to call me ‘sir’, remember? You can call me Loki.”

She smiled and looked down at her hands. Loki moved closer to her. He wanted to see if the bruises and cuts on her arms had healed as well. Out of habit, her body tensed. “May I see?” he asked, softly.

Her eyes darted around, unsure of what he meant. He gently took her arm and looked at the place where the chains had dug into her skin. The potion did seem to heal her wounds. The bruises had turned brown and yellow from the deep purples and blues they had been before. The cuts were scabbed and nearly healed. Even the chafing around her neck and wrists and ankles had diminished. He smiled at his work.

“Do these feel better?” he asked her, still examining them. He saw a small, silver scar peeking out of the top of the back of her shirt. He went to pull it down but she tore away.

“Y- Yes, si–, I mean, Loki. They feel b—better,” she stammered.

He turned his head. “Kuna, are you hurt somewhere else? Can I take off your shirt to see?”

She shook her head hard. “No, no, please, Loki,” she said, hugging herself and pulling her shirt over her knees and legs.

“Alright, alright, I won’t. You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, sir. I’m not. I feel so much better. I’ve never felt this good before.”

“Well, alright, then,” he said. He was concerned about these scars he had seen but he did not want to push her. She was terrified of him still, he could see that. And why shouldn’t she be? She may not have seen it but he had been very close to killing her only a few hours prior.

“Well, why don’t you lie down and sleep for a while. You’ll need rest while that potion takes its full effect.”

“It gets better?” she asked in amazement.

Loki chuckled. “Yes, it does. Now, lay down.”

He conjured up another blanket for her and gave it to her. She made herself comfortable by the fire, curling up like a dog. She was nearly asleep when the wind howled loudly against the outside of the cave, creating horrifying, ghoulish echoes in the cavern. She jumped and ran over to Loki, curling up beside his leg.

He scooted over a little. “It’s fine,” he said, dismissively. “It’s just the wind outside.”

“Not the snowmen?”

“No, not the snowmen. At least, I don’t think so,” he replied.

Kuna was terrified. She looked up at Loki, wondering if he really thought it was the snowmen back to get them. He was no longer blue like he was before. His skin had returned to its normal, pale color.

“Loki?”

“Yes?”

“Why were you blue before?”

Loki’s expression fell flat. He did not wish to answer this question. It had taken him hours to completely shut out the voice in his head. He had built a brick wall around the locked pit in his mind to keep him in and now he could hear the echoes of his laugh once more.

“It’s no business of yours,” he said, gruffly.

“Oh,” Kuna flinched at his tone. “I’m sorry, Loki. I—I,” she trailed off. She didn’t mean to upset him.

She made herself comfortable beside him. He had moved a foot or so away from her but his proximity made her feel safer. She wrapped herself up in the blanket and fell asleep.

Loki looked down at his hands. He should not have spoken to her that way. It wasn’t her fault. He should have been thanking her. If it weren’t for her, he’d probably been killed by the snowmen.

He was perplexed by her. He could still feel her magic in his own aura. He knew she had magic but she had been quick to dismiss it before. However, the spell she had used to destroy the snowmen was certainly powerful. Her reaction to it was what puzzled him the most. The painful howl that came from her still echoed in his ears.

In young ones her age, magic could manifest itself in strange ways, like making objects move without touching them; finding things you thought you’d lost; making things disappear and reappear without trying; those sorts of things. But what she had exhibited was far more powerful than simple parlor magic.

His mother had been quick to notice Loki’s aptitude early on and helped him foster his abilities using seidr. Thor had had some aptitude with magic too, but Odin had seen that his abilities would be better concentrated with the use of an enchanted weapon. Thus, he had the dwarves forge Mjölnir for him for when he came of age.

Loki, on the other hand, trained with his mother and learned to control his abilities and focus them with seidr - a magical system of spells, runes, and incantations - that allowed Loki the ability to have full mastery of his powers. He preferred seidr to weapons-based magic. The weapons were nice and all, but he preferred the flexibility of seidr. He did not have to have some fancy weapon to control his powers. He could use them whenever and wherever he wanted.

Frigga had tried to teach Thor in seidr, but he had no interest in it. He spent those lessons swinging his enchanted toy hammer around, electrifying the air and making his and his mother’s hair stand up straight. Eventually, Frigga gave up and let Odin teach Thor with the hammer and focused her lessons on Loki. He had loved those lessons. Just him and his mother practicing magic together.

Loki dozed a little, leaning back against the wall of the cave. He would wake for a moment, ensure Kuna was alright and that they were still alone, before dozing off again. After several hours, Kuna began to stir. She sat up in her blanket and yawned.

“How do you feel?” Loki asked, half-expecting her to be hungover.

“I feel good,” she said. She seemed confused and surprised. “I feel really good.”

“Hmm,” Loki said, impressed by her resilience and his alchemical prowess. “Good,” he added. He made a mental note that kapka blood mixed with its claws and hawk feathers cured hangovers as well as made a decent healing potion.

Kuna looked around at the diamond cave. She liked how the walls and columns sparkled in the firelight. The shadows of the crystalline stalactites and stalagmites danced on the walls. Loki followed her gaze.

“Pretty incredible, huh?” he said. She nodded in awe.

“Does this mean we’re rich?” she asked and then corrected herself, “I – I mean does this mean you’re rich?”

Loki considered her question. He hadn’t really thought about it. On Asgard, and many of the other Nine Realms, diamonds were so abundant, they were hardly considered valuable. Only the stupidest of Midgardians had fallen for their people’s own ploy of giving them a price beyond their true value.

“Do you think they’re worth something?” he asked her.

She stared at him in consternation. Who would think that diamonds weren’t valuable? Was she wrong? Was it a trick question?

“Well…” she said. “I think they are. Master Machaluci said his was the biggest in the whole universe. He put it in his chest, right here,” – she pointed at a spot below the collar on her neck to show him – “so everyone would see it and know that he was richer than them.”

Loki chuckled a little. It sounded like her home-system was made up with beings a lot like the Midgardians he had come to despise.

“Was he wrong?” she asked.

“Well, I guess it depends on how your world, or worlds, rather, were formed,” he explained. “Where I come from, diamonds are like little pebbles on the street. They’re everywhere. On some of the other realms, they’ve been buried for a few million years but their perfectly discoverable with good equipment. I suppose we could take a few of these and jump to the next world to find out.”

Kuna felt sick to her stomach at the thought of doing that again. Upon thinking of her stomach, it growled ferociously. The pains of hunger fled through her body. She wanted to fall over. She put her hands on her tummy and groaned.

“I could get you something to eat there,” Loki said. “It won’t be a big jump, I promise. We can see the planet from outside.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Mmm hmm,” he said, nodding.

He stood and walked over to a low hanging stalactite. He inhaled through his nose and blew out hard through his mouth and struck the diamond with the butt of his palm. A crack burst through the diamond and a chunk twice the size of his head fell away with a thud that echoed around the room.

Kuna was in awe at Loki’s strength. He picked up the chunk of diamond and made it disappear. Kuna’s eyes widened. He had done that magic before. He smirked at her.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. I despise snow planets” he said.

She hopped to her feet. She was no longer dizzy or tired. She thought this was the best she had felt in her whole life. Loki picked up the blanket and stored it away. Stamping out the fire, he cast another candlelight into the air, and it followed them as they walked.

“If it turns out the people on the next planet over think this is the most valuable thing in the world, we know where to come back,” he explained. Kuna trotted along beside him. They stopped in the icy room.

“Look up there,” Loki said, pointing at the hole in the ceiling. “See that planet up there? See the little lights on it? That means there are civilized people there.”

“Oh.”

“Well,” Loki added. “Civilized enough to have harnessed electricity for themselves. The Midgardians have only just done that, and I would hardly call them civilized.”

Kuna had no idea what he was talking about, but he sounded like he knew what he was talking about, so she just nodded. He looked down at her.

“Ready?”

She grabbed his leg and held on tight.

“Good, we’ll do it from in here. I don’t think either of us want to go back outside with those snowmen,” he said. Kuna shook her head. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

Loki concentrated on the tesseract’s energy, “Do what I want this time,” he said, aloud.

Kuna heard him and looked up, confused. Had she not done something right? He didn’t look at her. Clouds of blue vapor swirled around them and they disappeared.

Reappearing on the other side, it was dark there too. Loki looked up at the sky and laughed.

“Ha!” he laughed. “Look at that! See? There’s the snowball planet.” He pointed at a place in the sky. Kuna followed the end of his finger with her eyes. It was hard for her to see it immediately but when her eyes focused, she could just make out a perfectly circular orb hovering in front of the stars. It was completely dark and the only way she knew it was there was from how it blocked out the stars behind it.

She looked back up at Loki. She was still a little disturbed by his comment. “Did—” she hesitated to ask, fearing his reaction. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Hmm?” Loki asked, looking down at her. “Oh! No, no. I wasn’t talking to you. Don’t worry.”

Kuna was a little worried. Who else was he speaking too? She was the only one with him, right?

Loki looked up again. “Ah! Look there,” he pointed. “A city.”

#Loki #God of Mischief #Father #Others #Submitted fic #submission #traveling-classicist #Loki's Daughter #chapter 4

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becausewerebatfam · 5 years

Text

Our Future (1)

Jason Todd x Reader

After a failed mission you and Jason are being left behind to care for a kid while the rest of the team look for Duella Dent.

Warning: Language and maybe suggestive content.

A yellow portal opened in the middle of the street prompting everyone’s attention. Batman scowled knowing exactly what was going to happen. He readied himself for the threat to come when the portal sparked and grew to stable conditions.

“Sh*t-” a smallish boy groaned as he fell out of the portal and landed on the ground face first. Lucky for him he had a full helmet to protect him from any serious damage. As soon as he was out the portal shrank until it had completely vanished. The boy shook his head a few times trying to recalibrate himself. “Well f*ck this-” he pulled the helmet off when he noticed half of his vision was compromised by large and small cracks alike.

“You look a little young to be using that kind of language.” Batman guessed the boy to be around preteen age after seeing his face.

The boy’s eyes widened when he saw who he was in the presence of. “Holy sh*t it’s really you Batman!” This Batman was wearing a cape, not a trenchcoat. He had made it to the right place or time to be exact.

+++

“I would never sleep with you! Not even in a million years you-you-”

“Handsome jerk?” he offered with a playful smirk. Jason admitted he would cross the line often when it came to you. It was just a natural instinct for him to flirt with and or around you just for the attention. He didn’t care if it was negative or positive he just wanted your attention at all times.

“Grrrahhh!” You stormed out with a frustrated semi-groan scream combo. If you stayed any longer you probably would have given in.

While some girls fantasized about a sweet, romantic gentleman who treated them like princesses you preferred the rugged, confident guys with cocky attitudes. You never knew that was your type but you fell in love with Jason who was all those things so you figured it out along the way.

There was shock mixed with confusion on Wally’s face as he and the others watched your retreating figure. “What was that?”

“Todd’s attempt at courtship.” Damian had been witness to this and many similar scenes between the two of you.

Jason sat back with a triumphant smirk. He had waited all day for this moment of satisfaction. While others were content seeing their loved ones smile Jason looked for a more explosive reaction.

“Courtship?” Wally asked thinking he had to have misheard the young Wayne because Jason looked way too happy for someone who just got turned down.

Wally and Jon looked at each other with mouths agape when Damian nodded. They shrugged wondering what the heck he was so happy about. Jon was particularly glad to finally have someone else around who thought the interactions between you two were strange.

Dick laughed and explained the unique situation between you and Jason. "Y/N is just as stubborn and headstrong as Jason.” Neither of you wanted to admit it but you liked each other. Jason would chase away any guys who dared go near you even if they were just friends. While you would sabotage his flirting or act out physically by hitting him. “She says it’s accidentally but-”

Everyone became silent as the Batmobile came into the Batcave at full speed. Bruce emerged asking for you by name.

“She’s not here,” Jason immediately got up getting a bad feeling from Bruce’s entrance.

“We need to find her.”

Jason didn’t need to be told twice to go look for you. He was already thinking of all the places you could be. If he hadn’t pissed you off you would still be there waiting for Bruce to brief you on your next case. But because of him you left fuming.

He got on his bike and sped out of the cave missing the moment when Bruce let out his new young companion from the Batmobile. The young boy starred in awe at the distant Red Hood.

“Really Bruce another one?” Dick joked.

“Father, when will you stop picking up orphans?”

“I’m no orphan!” The young boy quickly turned around to face the small crowd of heroes. Upon recognizing Damian he stood up to him with an evil grin. The boy was younger than Damian but taller. “Mom wasn’t joking when she said you were a small fry.”

Damian practically growled at the comment. He would have attacked the boy if it weren’t for Jon holding onto his cape. “Small fry is easy to upset,” Jon warned. He gave the kid one of his signature smiles and like a properly educated child introduced himself. “Hi, I’m-”

“Jonathon Kent, I guess right now you’re still Superboy.” He then turned to the others and correctly identified them. “Tim, Wally, Dick- I know all of you so there’s no need for introductions.”

“Great,” Dick smiled warmly to the kid. “Maybe you should introduce yourself then.”

Damian didn’t like the know it all kid. “Tell us who you are this instant!”

The kid wasn’t easily intimidated. He kept his cool knowing Damian wasn’t a real threat to him. “Chill the f*ck down.” The boy crossed his arms, unwilling to disclose his identity to them.

Behind the kid, Bruce stood holding his helmet. It was an exact replica of Jason’s with a few aesthetic differences. The main one being that it was black with gold details and had bat ears like the cowl, reminiscent of your costume. It also had a gold bat symbol on the button that latched the helmet.

Gasps filled the cave along with Damian’s signature, “Tt”. The symbols, the colorway, the language... it was all adding up in everyone’s mind except Wally. “What?” he asked.

“His name is James Todd.” Bruce disclosed the nine-year-old's name. “He’s Y/N and Jason’s son from the future, Bat Hood.” On the ride to the Batcave James had disclosed various information to Bruce.

He still saw him as his loving grandfather but clearly, it was time that made him soften to the Bruce he knew. “Hey!” James didn’t want anyone else knowing the specifics. Time travel was a very complicated thing with many rules and consequences. He was afraid his mission would be compromised but most importantly...his life was on the line. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I lied,” Bruce deadpanned.

“G-pa Bruce would never lie to me!”

“G-pa!” Tim and Dick heartily laughed.

“I’ll make a note of it.” Bruce pulled out James utility belt and holster with two handguns strapped to it. “I’ll also make sure to keep you from getting your hands on fully loaded guns.”

James groaned in annoyance, "I’m very safe AND an awesome shot.” It was true. He had been taught since he was young, well younger, and had earned both yours and Jason’s trust in wielding the weapons. “Besides those are just blanks.”

Bruce crushed one of the bullets in his hands releasing a powdery substance. “Then what is this?”

“That’s classified.” James quickly turned away trying to avoid Bruce.

“We can test it right now and find out.”

“Doubt it,” James smugly smiled. “The programming software needed to identify all the compounds in that drug hasn’t been built yet.” His eyes darted to Tim who would be the one to invent it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tim narrowed in on James. Like the good detective he was, Tim figured out he was being given a hint.

Bruce didn’t care for all that, he had already gotten his answer. “So it’s a drug.”

“Sh*t...” he sighed. “You really are good.”

Damian saw all the bad had been rolled into one package. “Guess Todd is as good a parent as I expected.” James seemed to be left to do as he pleased during his childhood.

But it was strange.

You also had your bad qualities but one thing Damian knew for sure was that you were strict and often disciplined Jason for his language. “But Y/N...”

“Hey, my old man and mom are the best!” James defended his lineage, letting everyone know that it wasn’t a lack of rules that had him a little on the rebellious side. For the first time, the boy seemed to act his age. He began to look vulnerable and small. “My mother was killed by the Joker and my father is in a coma.”

The silence that fell on the room was quickly lifted by his next remark.

“I live with you now UNCLE Damian.”

Damian’s eyes widened, did he really have to put up with such a brat? Is that what his future held?

“I-I took down the Joker,” he proudly proclaimed. “This time for good... I didn’t kill him.” James was quick to clarify knowing Bruce’s moral compass would immediately be triggered. “I told the doctor’s at Arkham to test out the drug Tim and I made. It’s an anti-psychotic especially made for him.”

"But you’re just a kid,” Jon pointed out.

“I got it from a future where I was in my early twenties.” James had been visited by his future self to prevent the death of his parents but it was too late. The Joker had gotten to them there too. “Apparently, I become a pharmaceutical scientist.” He had some difficulty repeating his profession but they understood what he was trying to say.

“Dent is traveling through time searching for this timeline to kill my parents before I’m born. She was the only one who didn’t like the new sane Joker so she’s trying to get rid of me by making sure I’m never born.”

Now it was up to his nine-year-old self to travel even further back and stop her. “Obviously I can’t let her do that.”

Dick was the first to approach James and give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry kid, we’ll help you.”

Damian saw the silver lining of this whole ordeal. “I will help and free myself of becoming a guardian to a brat like you.” Even though he said that Damian was actually worried for the kid.

“Thanks,” James felt relief wash over him. He wasn’t too sure he could get anyone to believe such a ridiculous, yet, true story.

“Can I just say, we definitely need to look into limiting the means of time travel in the future.” Wally found it unbelievable how many people were able to do so. “Seriously did you also invent some sort of time travel device Tim?”

+++

As Jason sped down the streets of Gotham he spotted you fighting in a poorly lit alley close to his apartment. A couple of scared women ran out from there clutching onto their bags. He figured you were on your way to his place when you stopped to help.

There were six or seven guys, one seemed to be out of the fight now. You had beat him up badly enough for him to sit out. Anger fueled your rampage on the men who were trying to rob and take advantage of women at night. “So you can’t get a date with those ugly mugs and decide to force yourselves on a lady?”

“Those b*tches were asking for it, wearing those short skirts-”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, your fist wouldn’t let him. “You can’t control yourself when a pretty woman walks by so she’s to blame? Pathetic!” At the moment you put your attention on the big mouthed creep the others tried hitting you from behind but were stopped by Jason.

“That’s no way to treat a lady,” Jason hit two of them with the back of his guns knocking them unconscious. He proceeded to point them at the last ones standing, “Now do you prefer to join your buddies or wait for the cops like good boys?”

They raised their arms in fear of being shot. “We’ll wait.”

“Good.”

When the cops rounded up the men Jason picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Now you are coming with me.”

“What the- Jason!” You protested when he sat you on his bike.

“Don’t fight it Babe. We both know you were on your way to my place.” The blush on your face could not be hidden even in the dark of night. He knew he was right. “What were you gonna do? Were you going to keep the bed warm for me?”

“In your dreams Jason!”

He smirked, “In my dreams, we never make it to the bed.”

Yes, you were going to his place but you were only going to wait and apologize for letting your jealousy get the better of you. You knew your last mission together went wrong because you let your emotions get the best of you when Rose Wilson got too close to Jason.

Jason sat in front of you waiting for your arms to wrap around him. It was always a good excuse to keep you close. He loved riding with you and vice versa.

The fact that he knew how it riled you up only made you angrier. He always did things to make you mad. You just wished he would admit why he did it, then maybe you could tell him how you really feel. You leaned forward staring at his broad shoulders as your arms snaked around him. “F*ck you Jason,” you let your head rest on him and smiled.

He smiled, content and happy to have found you. “You too Babe.”

You were his everything.

+++

James became still as he saw Jason pull up with you in tow. The laughter of his father was just as he remembered it.

“I found Y/N getting her ass kicked by some drunk sleazeballs,” Jason informed them trying to bring light into the situation. Perhaps it was the darkness of the cave but everyone looked as if they had gotten bad news.

The moment was gone, you were back to hating his guts. “I never asked for your help!”

“Didn’t have to Babe; I saw you were in danger and jumped in.” Whenever Jason gloated he would put his hands on his hips and strike a classic Superman pose with his chest out, leaving himself open for attack.

So you attacked, “You’re a real hero huh tough guy?” Your elbow dug into his stomach as you walked past him.

He broke the stance, doubled over with a mix of laughter and pain.

“Are you sure those two are your parents?” Wally asked James in a low whisper only loud enough for him to hear.

The two of you stopped your fighting when Bruce called your names. That’s when you noticed the boy in the black military style cargo pants and boots. His plain black tee and gloves combo made it seem like he was a black ops agent ready to go out for night training.

Jason similarly looked at the kid with question. “Who’s the kid?”

James smiled when he caught you looking at him. You were younger but you still looked like the mom he knew and loved. It had been long since he last saw you which made him want to run up to you, hug you and never let go.

“His name is James. He’s from the future, he’s trying to stop Duella Dent from killing his parents.” Bruce was careful not to give you and Jason any of the details. With how complicated you two were he figured it was best to let you two figure things out on your own. Clearly, time was the key for you two because as you were it didn’t seem James was a likely outcome. “You two will be watching him while the rest of us gather information.”

“Babysitting?” Jason was very disappointed.

“I haven’t forgotten of your last mission,” Bruce warned.

“That was her fault!” Jason pointed at you earning a kick to his well-toned ass.

“It was your fault and you know it!”

Bruce scowled at you two for behaving like children. “We’ll discuss who’s at fault later.” You three were the target so keeping you out of harm’s way was ideal. “Do not leave the cave.”

“But-”

You sighed placing your hand on Jason’s arm, effectively silencing him. “Maybe he’s right Jay, we don’t want to mess things up for James.”

Seeing you had managed to placate Jason allowing Bruce and the others to proceed with their departure.

It was hard for you to sit on the sideline as well but this time there were far more important factors. Your ego and his were outweighed by the importance of the young boy’s parents. You couldn’t make the young boy return to his time without accomplishing his mission. If that meant you had to sit this one out then so be it.

Jason groaned, “Fine.”

Approaching the boy with a smile you reached out to him. “Hello, I’m Y/N.” The boy nearly knocked the air out of you. His arms wrapped around your waist hugging you tightly.

Realizing what he had done, James backed away. “Sorry.”

You shook your head with slight laughter, “It’s okay.” The kid was too young to be tackling such problems. You were sure he needed comfort and proceeded to hug him this time.

James hid his face in your stomach as he felt on the verge of tears. It was so unreal to be back in his mother’s arms.

Jason narrowed his eyes, "Hey kid what did you say your name was?”

“James.”

“Cool name,” Jason took his helmet off and set it on his bike. “I’m Jason.”

I know, it’s so good to see you awake old man. “Cool name,” James smiled repeating his father’s line.

-end-

pic credit; found it on Pinterest.

A/N: This is a two-shot so the next part will be out as soon as I finish. For now I just wanted to see if you all found it interesting to read ^^ Let me know.

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nothingeverlost · 5 years

Text

Fic: Things Half in Shadow (13/14)

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairings: Gold/Belle (eventually) with side pairings that probably include Graham/Bay, Archie/Emma and others.

Summary: The first thing you learn, back in Psych 101, is that you never get emotionally involved with a patient. For 25 years Dr. Gold hasn’t had a problem walking that fine line. Something changes, though, when he meets Belle French. AU

Author’s Note: I don’t even know how it’s possible that the last update was so long ago. I’m sorry. It’s funny but this fic was started so long ago that we didn’t have a name yet for Gold’s ex. Apparently the one time I mentioned her I named her Nora, so I’ll stay with that.

TRIGGER WARNING: Indirect mentions of abuse and sexual assult

Chapter 13 - Self Care

“You’re not seriously thinking about going to work today. You look like crap, pops.” Bailey was at the kitchen table when Nick made it down the stairs, a frustratingly slow journey considering how much his knee ached. Fortunately his early bird son being awake meant there were hot coffee and muffins still warm from the oven waiting for him.

“I took yesterday off,” he said with a shrug. It had been against his wishes, worried that his absence would damage the progress he’d made so far with Belle, as well as the added strain he’d been forced to put on Archie’s schedule. There hadn’t been any way around it, though. He’d spent most of the day with his leg elevated and ice on his knee, trying not to move his face too much. He’d refused his son’s offer to stay home all day, but in the afternoon after the bakery had closed they’d spent a few hours playing gin rummy and alternately watching the Food Network and a documentary on King James.

“The world isn’t going to end if you take two days off in a row. Your leg…”

“Is something I’ve been dealing with since you were a babe in arms. It’s fine.” It was a complete lie, of course. His knee was inflamed, his calf bruised from Moe’s kick, and he’d taken the pain pills he usually ignored just to deal with walking. As for worlds ending, he hoped nothing so dramatic had happened in his absence but didn’t dare leave Belle alone any longer. He’d spoken with Archie twice during the day, and Graham once, but needed to judge her state of mind for himself. She’d been through enough without taking on the responsibility of his own absence. He was afraid what progress they’d made might already be lost.

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?” Bay said with a sigh as he stood up. “Sit. I’ll start breakfast.”

“The muffins…”

“Are not enough on their own, especially considering the pain pills you’re probably taking in order to push yourself harder than you should. Let me at least make sure you have something decent in your stomach, okay?” Bay was frowning as he stood with a carton of eggs in one hand. His son was a good man. Sometimes Nick questioned what he’d ever done to deserve such a kid, but he was grateful.

“I’ll eat whatever you cook, and take the muffins to work to share,” he agreed, hoping to appease his boy. He’d planned to be earlier than usual, but could sacrifice a little time. Without further argument he took his coffee to the dining room table, doing his best to sit without wincing when his knee was forced to bend.

“Will you eat something real for lunch or do I need to pack you something in a brown paper bag?” Bailey’s hands flew as he chopped onion and minced garlic. He was much slower in picking through a wilted bit of broccoli with a wrinkled nose.

“I’ll pick something up from the cafeteria,” he promised. Someday, he hoped, his son would have kids of his own. He’d be a good parent. The kind of parent children deserved to have.

“Aren’t you a little too old for barroom brawls, Nick? You look like shit.” Mal Carbaosse was the first person Nick ran into, which was better than Regina but less desirable than making it to his office unobserved. He had a half hour before his morning appointment with Belle and needed to catch up on what he’d missed the day before.

“Tactful as always, Mal.” He changed his route to head for the closet they generously referred to as a staff room. At least if Mal was going to distract him he could get another cup of coffee. Tea was not going to cut it for the day.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? You could easily scare small children. And nervous patients. You should do something about that.” She gestured at her own face. “I have some concealer in my bag.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary.” It hadn’t occurred to him, that he could do anything about his cheek. While he didn’t care what most people would think, he had woken up at least twice in the middle of the night worrying about how to explain it to Belle so she wouldn’t worry.

“Of course it is. How necessary was your little caveman display?” Mal, as usual, didn’t listen to him and dig through her purse, pulling out what looked like a tube of lipstick in shape, though the color was more beige.

“Important enough.” He winced when Mal touched his face, the pain shooting up to his temple. As she worked on his skin he focused on his breathing, hand tightening around his cane.

“Well you won’t be winning any beauty pageants but at least you pass for somewhat normal now.” She held up a small round mirror. Nick could still see hints of purple, but it didn’t look much worse than a night without sleep, rather than vivid bruising. “If you’re not careful Regina might give you a matching one, though. She was extremely not pleased to have the sheriff show up again yesterday.”

“Regina can throw as many tantrums as she likes, the welfare of my patients will always come first.” At the best of times Nick had no patience for playing politics and pushing pencils. He had far less patience for Regina and her schemes.

“Fortunately for Regina she’s not bogged down with little things like ethics or the hippocratic oath. Her welfare concerns involve the health of the bank statements. I think it galls her that your reputation makes you too valuable to force out, but it wouldn’t hurt you to learn to play her game a little. Make life easier on yourself.” Mal glanced down at her cell phone. Nick could see the screen well enough to know he needed to head for his office if he was going to be there before Belle.

“I never have been very good at playing games.” And he’d be damned if he would play Regina’s. He could, if necessary, make her dance to his own tune, though it wouldn’t be pleasant for either of them. “If you’ll pardon me I have a morning appointment.”

“You know where to find me if you need a touch up. In a couple of days your face is going to be a very flattering shade of green.” Mal settled herself at the table after picking a carton of yogurt out of the fridge. Nick nodded before leaving the staff room, headed for his office. He had just enough time to brew a pot of tea to go with the muffins he’d brought from home.

“Doctor Gold, would you like to explain…” Regina, predictable, was hovering near his office door.

“Don’t you have any real work to be doing, Regina? I’m busy.” He slipped his office key from his pocket, hoping she wouldn’t follow him into the room.

“My job is to keep this place running which requires, among other things, keeping a spotless reputation. We’ve had the sheriff here twice this week disrupting everyone’s schedule and now this.” She waved a newspaper in his face. He was glad to see there was no photo accompanying the brief article about ‘assault and arrest.’

“I will have no problems explaining my actions to the board, should it become necessary. Until then it is a private matter that involves patient confidentiality and you should be glad not to know the details.” He had been informed that French, so far, had decided not to press charges. While he had no desire to be on the wrong side of bars again his concern was for Belle if the details of the case had to be released.

“There are many that would love to have the position you are in. It wouldn’t be hard to replace you.” Regina folded the paper in half, holding it down at her side, her grip tight as if he would try to take it from her.

“Try it, Regina, and we’ll see who is left standing. You might not like the answer.” He would not go quietly. His patients needed him, and he liked where he was.

“We’ll see,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. When she turned to walk away she was not quite as confident as she’s been when she’d cornered him.

“That we will,” Gold muttered under his breath as he pushed his office door open. He filled up his electric kettle to heat water, and set out the muffins while he waited for his pot of tea to brew. Chamomile, since he would be sharing with Belle, though he would have prefered something black. He finished with a minute to spare and no time to wonder if Mal’s makeup had remained in place. Belle stood in his doorway, silent and timid. He wondered if her expression gave away more than it once had, or if he was merely better at reading it. She was nervous.

“Good morning, Belle.” He stayed in his chair, trying to look as relaxed as possible. He didn’t dare stand, afraid he might not be able to smother any signs of pain. As much as possible he hoped to sound as if this was any other morning. “Would you care for a muffin?”

“Yes, thank you.” Belle stepped into the office, closing the door behind her. She took the muffin, but it remained on the plate while she held her teacup between her hands, staring at the steam rising from the pale liquid as if it would tell her something. He let her have a few minutes, hoping it would help her to relax, but she didn’t seem to be in a place where she could begin the conversation.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking about Belle?” he prompted gently.

“You weren’t here yesterday.” She looked at him for just a moment before returning her gaze to her cup. Not enough time to read her expression. “Dr. Hopper said you hurt your knee.”

“I did. It’s an old wound, and it’s more vulnerable because it’s been injured before. I’ve learned that when I hurt it I need some time to take care of it. It was a hard lesson, one I’ve fought more than a few times, to stop and take care of myself, but it takes longer to heal if I ignore it.” He was less concerned with his own healing, though, than he was with hers.

“You hurt it a long time ago. How did you…” Belle shook her head, shifting on the couch uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business. Papa says…”

Gold didn’t give a damn what her father said or thought. “There’s nothing wrong with asking questions. And it’s only fair that you get to ask a few, don’t you think, considering how many you answer for me?”

“You’re the doctor. You’re supposed to ask questions.” When he nudged the plate closer to her she took the hint, tearing off a small bite of the muffin and eating it. She followed it with a sip of the tea.

“We’ve spent a lot of time together since you’ve been here. It’s normal for you to be curious, and it’s okay to ask questions. I won’t always be able to answer them, but you can ask me anything. I was in a car accident when my son was a few months old, and had to have a couple of surgeries. I had to learn how to walk again when he was learning for the first time.” He’d come home from lunch to see Bay only to find another man in his bed. He’d run from the house, driving too fast and too recklessly. He and Nora had patched their marriage up about as well as his knee had been repaired. The man she’d left with five years later was the same one he’d caught in his bed.

“You still have to use a cane.” She probably didn’t even notice that her hand settled on her stomach, covering the scars that were criss crossed on her skin. Scars that might fade with time, but wouldn’t go away. He had his own scars on his knee, and those less visible.

“I do. It’s one of the ways I take care of myself, just like taking yesterday off was a way to take care of myself. We’ve been talking about behaviors you can use to take care of yourself, can you tell me if there’s any that helped you yesterday?” She’d taken three bites of muffin and almost finished a cup of tea. Now that he had her talking he could hopefully learn a little better how she was coping with the events of the last few days.

He stayed in his office for the rest of the morning. He might have stayed for most of the day, rather than put weight on his leg, but he’d made a promise to his boy. He couldn’t lie about eating lunch, not when Bay was so perceptive about such things and already worried. He waited until the end of the lunch service, though, in hopes that the cafeteria would be mostly empty.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if you had a good reason for missing yesterday.” There were only a few stragglers in the cafeteria; Belle was not among them. Ruby, however, was sitting on one of the tables closest to the doors. She looked like she had been waiting for him; the lack of any food next to her seemed to confirm his suspicion. “Granny would say you look like something the cat dragged in, Doc.”

“The cafeteria is for people who are eating, Ms. Lucas. Perhaps you have someplace more constructive to be?” Archie had told him what Belle had said about trust, and he was grateful to the woman. He was also hungry and not in the mood to talk, or to explain himself when he wasn’t about to tell the truth.

“Something is going on with Belle,” Ruby stated bluntly.

“I’m not at liberty…”

“I know what you’re not allowed to say. I’m not asking.” She crossed her arms, looking for a moment very much like her grandmother. “Her story is hers to tell; she knows I’ll listen if she ever wants to share. I’m not asking about her, I’m asking about him.”

“Him?” None of the patients had been in the lobby two days ago, they couldn’t know what had happened. Belle didn’t need the place to be filled with rumors and people whispering about her.

“She’s scared of someone, Doc. That’s not new, but two days ago something happened to make it worse. We’ve seen the guards.” She leaned forward, just a little. In the back of his mind Gold thought he should ask her later if she was interested in law. She would make a hell of a lawyer in a courtroom.

“It’s a precaution.” He hadn’t seen the guards yet, but was relieved they were there. The fact that their presence annoyed Regina was a silver lining. “Everyone here is safe.”

“We’re never safe from ourselves.” The words she spoke made him forget how to breathe for a moment. It was a truth he’d learned all too well; sometimes the only person he couldn’t save someone from was themself. He wouldn’t let it be true with Belle. “The world isn’t this place, though. We all have to leave sometime.”

“She’d not leaving, not until she’s ready. And when that time comes she’ll still be safe.” He would do everything in his power to make sure it’s true. She would be free of Moe French.

“Okay.” In a flash the almost feral look in her eyes was gone. She was just a patient again, not much older than a kid. Ruby slid from the table and headed for the door, but she stopped next to him for a moment. “Might be time for a little more foundation, Doc. Or some boxing lessons”

He stood where he was until she was gone, shaking his head as he thought over the conversation. There was more to Ruby Lucas than he’d ever seen before. He would have to let Archie know about their exchange, but that could happen later. For the moment he needed food. The ministron didn’t look too bad, and his cheek felt well enough that he decided on a roast beef sandwich, carrying the tray carefully in one hand to the table in the farthest corner of the room. His solitude lasted five minutes before Graham slid into the chair across from him. He hadn’t heard the orderly coming.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here today.” The younger man carried a cup of coffee and a brown bag with a well known label. Gold was very familiar with the double chocolate cheesecake brownie he removed from the bag; Bay had gone through dozens of variations before he was happy enough to start selling them. Gold had been more than happy to offer his opinion of every batch.

“I would have been here yesterday if it had been possible.” The soup, it turned out, was barely warm. He pushed it away and took a bite of the sandwich. “At least I knew my patients were looked after.”

“She was.” Graham wasn’t known for mincing his words. It had been months of working together before Gold had a conversation with him that was more than a dozen words long. They both knew that there was one patient in particular of whom he spoke.

“Archie mentioned the sheriff was here again yesterday.” He planned to stop by her office on the way home. Even from a hospital room French could make trouble.

“She’s in Belle’s corner. The restraining order is what Belle wants and Emma will make sure it’s what she gets. She doesn’t back down in a fight, not when it’s important. She knows this is important.” Graham spoke with a familiarity that Gold hadn’t expected.

“You know her?” The sheriff having Graham’s approval put him mind slightly more at rest.

“When she was seventeen she tried to steal my truck. We’ve been friends ever since.” Graham smiled for a moment before his eyes narrowed. “She visited French last night. She wouldn’t tell me what he said but she was very explicit about what she’d do if he ever came back here.”

“I’m sorry she had to speak with him.” He hoped her help wouldn’t be needed once the restraining order was in place, but it was good to know where she stood. It made him angry that anyone else had to be tainted by the filth that was Moe French.

“Some people let pain twist them. Some people learn to be stronger. Emma’s strong enough to deal with it. Belle’s learning to be strong too. Whatever he did, he’s alone now. She’s not.” Graham tore off a piece of his brownie, sliding it across the table next to his now empty plate.

“No, she’s not.” He accepted the brownie; unsure if it was the sugar or the fact that his boy made it that made it taste especially sweet.

The afternoon was spent in session with his usual patients and two that he’d missed the day before. It took three cups of coffee and pain pills taken religiously to make it through the sessions with the amount of focus they deserved. It was a relief that Jefferson wasn’t one of the patients he had scheduled; he didn’t have the attention for that level of wordplay.

He might have stayed late to make up for lost time, but he had to admit to himself that he’d already pushed himself harder than was wise. The last thing he needed was to push his leg so far that he couldn’t walk on it and needed to take days off.

“Belle.” He couldn’t leave without checking on Belle one more time. He found her in the art room, a pile of yarn ball in front of her. Her attention, however, was on the window. The sun would be going down soon.

“Mary Margaret is going to teach me how to knit. Tomorrow we’re going to start on squares. First I have to decide what colors I like.” She fingered the ball of yarn closest to her hand, a strange shade of greenish gold.

“May I?” he pointed to the chair across the table from her, and when she nodded he sat down. “Perhaps it’s more about the one you like to touch the most? It’s a rather tactile art.”

“This one is the softest.” The skin she pulled out of the pile was a bright blue; it reminded him of the color of her eyes. “If I make enough squares Mary Margaret says they can be turned into a blanket. It would be alright for my bed, wouldn’t it?”

“I think it would be just right.” The yarn was soft, the antithesis of sharp bits of metal. It would be gentle against her skin, covering a bed that she nervously wanted to claim as her own. “I would imagine it will take some time to complete.”

“Winter might even be over before I’m done.” She held the yarn tight in her hand.

He sat with her for ten minutes, speaking of nothing important. She spoke easily of colors and of how she’d asked Mary Margaret about the sweater she was knitting. About the offer that had been extended, and accepted. When the urge came to ask if her mother had knitted he’d bitten his tongue; she needed time to just talk. Ruby showed up a minute after the dinner gong sounded, a handful of people just behind her, and he urged Belle to join them.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Belle.”

“In the morning.” She took the blue yarn with her.

#things half in shadow #rumbelle fic #graham humbert #bailey gold #Nick gold #abuse tw #my fic #belle french #ruby lucas #mal fincent

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worldcakecakecake · 5 years

Text

The Red Mask

In 18th century Valencia, Spain, thrives the legend of the Red Mask, a character with stories of bravery and heroism that have enchanted Lovino Valenti since he was a young child. On a new business deal, his family moves from Naples and Lovino finds himself wishing for adventure and action away from his duties in this new Spanish city. He is given that chance when he joins a group of masked heroes that fall under the command of the famed Red Mask. He grows a close and fiery relationship with the masked man of his tales and dreams, and without knowing his identity, he lets himself be swayed by his seduction, trust and daringness, to passions surely forbidden when he doesn’t even know his actual name or who he really is.

Prolouge III

The morning in the convent went on as per usual, albeit some watched any new stirring from the hall as most were excited to meet the newest member. No other showed it more than one of the Jansen siblings, Laura Jansen.

The small blond girl had kept by the hall, ready to be the first to help and befriend the weak boy she had seen the night before. Her other two brothers, Tim and Louis, stayed by the table focused on their finished breakfast, eyes conversing on how to get their sister on other things. They didn’t know what this new boy was affected with and how weakened he was. He could pretty much decide to be in the room for days and it was probably best for her not to get her hopes too high. They stood, ready to suggest her in a joining of their chores, when suddenly they heard the hinge and opening of that furthest door, Laura instantly perking.

It took a long while for the boy to move enough as to be shown, his entire being down casted, like a darkened ghost that was failing at a simple haunting.

Laura was impatient and would not have this. She rushed and pulled him the rest of the way, in an instant bringing him to the table, not a minute passing and already placing a plate with a loaf of bread and a glass of milk. Antonio remained frozen, startled at this very quick array that was not in his mood and his mind wasn’t quickly thinking to.

“Come on, eat. You have to start on chores and you’re lucky that my brothers and I are willing to wait for you.” She really tried to be harsh, bossy, but instead she blushed and gave quite an adorable pout that Antonio couldn’t find it possible to remain expressionless at.

A laugh erupted, loud and ringing, unsuspected, less by this drowsy boy they had seen earlier and the night before. He banged the table, in wild hysterics letting his laughter continue to ring across the hall.

The two brothers decided that he had to be crazy and the poor girl blushed deeper in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whipped the small tears that had formed, sitting straight and taking the breaths that finally made him calm down, instead presenting quite a beautiful and natural smile. This made the room fall more at ease, Laura finding it quite beautiful and fitting to the boy.

“I think it would be great to join you. Just don’t threaten me like…that, and let me have my breakfast first,” he joked, in an easy friendly way that the girl found herself smiling back at.

Comfortable, she took a sitting beside him, not minding on the silence as he ate on, the other brothers watchful from their side of the dining room.

“How are you feeling?” Laura asked once Antonio took the last sip of his milk.

“Uh…okay, I guess. I can do something though,” he still confided, standing, strong and ready for whatever that could have his use and help.

“That’s great! I’m sure you’ll have some fun with us! And we can help you and become good friends! We’re sure you’ll like it here!” Laura happily exclaimed, ready to lead him to meet her brothers.

“That’s exceptionally kind of you, Laura. But Antonio just arrived, and he still needs his rest.” Patricio entered the dining room, emitting a fatherly aura as ever, one that Laura knew she couldn’t speak against. “How about you and your brothers go on and do the drying. I’ll see if I can get Antonio to join you later.”

The girl nodded and joined her brothers’ side. With her adding they headed off to start with the given job.

“They seem really nice,” Antonio noted.

It made Patricio smile, assuring him that perhaps Antonio can find easy fitting with their people.

“They are. You will have your chance to befriend them later, but for now, I must show you your new home.”

Antonio saw the entirety of the living quarters. Other rooms where they could read, write or play in, bathrooms, kitchen, terrace, garden, stable and even the holy church. It was tall, magnificent, quite a richness compared to the humbler areas of where Antonio would be staying, but it was admirable, and it had his steps slowing as he took in more of it.

The touring had been done by the early afternoon, with time to spare and Antonio quite eager to join the Jansen brothers in the garden, where they worked on hanging wet fabrics to dry, conversing, laughing and joking as children should. Patricio smiled from his sitting, taking parts of his reading, Laura beside her as company, surprisingly not taking part in the activities with her brothers and the newest member.

“Antonio?” She asked to the priest.

“Yes, that is his name.”

“Why is he here? Did he lose his parents too?”

“He lost his father long ago, his mother recently.”

“How did he know about you and the church?”

“I raised his parents under my supervision here as I do you and the rest long ago. Both excellent people and I used to think bright futures awaited them. I was delighted to find out they had been courting and I had already agreed to wed them. But…” solemn he turned, hurt already at his next words while Laura stared on in both worry and curiosity. “Diego…his father, was in a terrible fight, not by his doing, he was just in the wrong place when it happened…he lost his life there and Joaquina…grew vengeful, maddened, more so when she found out she was with child and her beloved never got the chance to know. The fight was between two families, one of them the Montaje, the patriarch man who had killed Diego. Pregnant, Joaquina came for compensation and so the leader Montaje set up a match where they put at stake horrible prizes.” Patricio silenced at the harsh remembrance, but Laura gazed on still expecting his continuing. “If Joaquina won, she will receive a large sum of money to be able to live and take care of her son, if Montaje won…she will relinquish her sword and find servitude in his own mansion.” He sighed, not liking the turn it then took. “To this day I believe something went wrong in the match. Joaquina was a good swordswoman, enough to participate in the highest tournaments of the kingdom and beat all. Yet…this match did not prove it so and so she left to the other side of the kingdom to work for him. It was all disastrous, horrible, she was never meant to serve such a devil man.” His breaths were harsh, being chocked by only thoughts of what he wondered she must have gone through. “For years she took his abuse, worst, she had her son go through it as well and it was only recently that they managed an escape. Sadly, she was caught and well…only Antonio reached our church.” They both raised their gazes to him, who was happily chatting with the other two Jansen brothers, all that misery and turmoil disappeared.

“Will he stay with us then?”

“Until he decides so, yes, we will take him,” Patricio adopted him with those words.

Laura smiled and was giddy in her seat. “It’s like having another brother!” She excited.

“It will be, so I’m counting on you and your brothers to make this the best stay possible. Help him, talk to him, play with him, invite him to whatever any of you concoct. It will help him better and I will really appreciate it.”

Laura smiled back, determined to fulfill that promise.

In the passing weeks, that belonging that all had spoken and wanted for Antonio seemed a brighter possibility. Antonio settled well into the routine, found the jobs that all depended on him and Patricio adored that he was a devoted catholic as the rest of the kids there. He joined in the altar serving, every mass there with Patricio and the rest of the priests. It was a process he enjoyed being a part of and didn’t serve any complains as some of the other children did. The only dilemma was that he hadn’t had a proper outing into the city. Laura, who had quickly become a dear friend to Antonio, provided him that, waking him up in a rather harsh force in the morning and then getting him into proper wear for the streets. Of course, they were provided by Patricio.

The markets in the city were full, which assured a populace that met them as soon as they headed, baskets in their holds to get the things Tim had specified well that morning. Both of them stayed together in their stroll through the streets, Laura being extra attentive that Antonio wouldn’t be easily distracted and loose himself in another direction. No matter, it would happen, which meant random runs getting him back or trying to get him away from buying many tomatoes from different stands.

“Antonio, we go all we needed, we don’t nee more,” Laura told him after yet another pulling from another stand.

“But they were so pretty! I’m sure Patricio and the nuns wouldn’t mind more,” Antonio convinced.

“Best we just keep with what they said. After all we-” Laura was suddenly pushed to the side, a sure hit to the near hardened wall if Antonio hadn’t caught her on time. The men to blame had rushed off, escaping well between the crowds like they were flying, almost unnoticed to others. Later, a woman tried to rush at their pace, but she stood near Antonio and Laura exhausted, hand extending as if hoping it could do the reaching she wanted.

“No…” she devasted, knowing that they were lost. She trembled, tears coating her eyes and showing her in such a weakness that Antonio couldn’t leave her alone in. He came forward, offering a straightening hand and comforting eyes.

“Señora, what is wrong?”

“They…they took my bag! I-I had papers there concerning my move to France. Without them, I won’t be able to go, I’ll lose my position, loose everything.” She started a heavy breathing. “I need those, I need those. Without them I might as well be left on the streets. I have a son, I can’t let him live like this, I can’t!” The tears now fell, depending on the hold she had of Antonio.

He had no way of responding, all the words were sparking repeated horror images that he tried hard to erase from his mind the last few days. His mother, his own escape from the Montaje mansion, her death, nothing to be done but fight.

“Oh, miss, I’m so sorry for this. I really wish there was something that could be done.”

In Antonio’s blankness, Laura decided to take the woman and offer her own comfort how she could. Whatever cries and words were only murmurs, Antonio now switching his attention to the direction the felons ran off. The people that walked on were uncaring, greyed and silent as Antonio surely stood in the center for them. He thought…and even saw how he could run between, what moves he could easily use to ground and defeat them. It wouldn’t be hard, he could go right now, nothing to stop them but perhaps Laura’s confusions and shouts. Before his thoughts continued any other hindrances, he took that sprint, forward trying to find their trace, between carts, rushing people and carriages. Finding recent commotion, he took deep secretive alleyways. A red flag reminded him of his own familiar red, always hidden well in his pockets. He took it out, the holes that were meant to showcase his mother’s green, reminding him, telling him of a trade that had to pass, that he could take. As he gripped it stronger in his hold, he was decided to move on that fire, for his father, and now his mother. Taking that responsibility, accepting everything that would come from there on, he tied it around him, as sure and ready as he would help his mother. It fitted him like it was meant, like it was always for him and with it he felt the strength that pushed him faster down the alley. As he was draped by a sudden red cloak, surely a sheet from a resident in the area, he took it with him, the cape that will hide his body well, ripping then a part to cover his head as he couldn’t find the proper hat.

He was dressed well in the imaginary hero of his mother and her stories, publicly shown as he exited the alley, jumping high in light that none could miss, none couldn’t hold their startling, pointing and gasps. Antonio flew by them uncaring, not when he could catch a glimpse of the running thieves, almost disappearing in the distance. He used the top of carts, stands, even that of low buildings to make his way between this extensive crowd that filled this particular square. Thanks to the movements under him, that he used to propel himself, he managed a quick catching, until he could see the cloaks on the others, even the bag they stole, clear. He smirked at how easy it would be after this…even without a sword tucked in a scabbard at his hip.

A particular jump from a hanged cloth, a made aim, and he landed with a harsh kick on the sole who held the bag. He hurled in pain, one that the others tuned to in shocking halt, confused that…something, dressed in red, just stopped their friend in an easy grasp. Antonio kept using him as his standing, maintaining a force that let him take the bag and place it on himself safely.

He might have it back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to leave it easy for them after what they did. While they were distracted in impression, Antonio drove himself forward and started with his known tactics of kicks and punches, bringing them to an unconscious level that they couldn’t respond to any longer. A space was left for him and his prey while others ran or cowered to the sides. It granted Antonio the sight to see three small logs of wood thrown from some pass mess. It was exactly what he needed. He brought the three to a stoned wall, using the wood to hold them there from there cloaks. The guards will deal with them, but Antonio considered his job done. He ran away swiftly, disappearing to all their eyes, some even daring to follow him and question, but none was fast or attentive enough.

Antonio moved between the shadows and whatever hiding in between with less crowds and people. He managed a return to the area where he started his run, Laura still comforting the victim. Antonio wondered if she had noticed he left. From his hidden heights, he dropped the bag before her, then rushing off elsewhere, plotting some new way to get to Laura without giving suspicion. The woman shrilled and hugged the bag, bringing then Laura close as if she were her angel that brought it forward. She shouted all kinds of thanks to the heavens and even the girl who had done nothing else but remain with her. Laura stood in deep question, not understanding the events that passed so quickly, hoping for Antonio to give some sort of explanation. That’s when she noticed he was gone, in no vicinity, leaving her alone to deal with an aftermath he created.

After the woman had relaxed enough, Laura had let her go her way, now with a new search for the new boy. She was almost close to the church when he heard his shouts, running to meet her down this street she walked on. He seemed exhausted, strained, sweating away a big load from what surely must have been a harshened job.

“Where were you?” She scolded, angered and Antonio feared she was to inflict punishment that instant.

“I…I…tried to find the thieves that took her bag. I lost them…and then I got lost myself. What happened?” He feigned.

“Well, after you darted out like that, someone actually got it back and brought it.”

“Really?” Antonio alighted grandiosely. “Who did?”

“I…don’t know…whoever did just dropped it between us and left. I couldn’t catch them. She was really happy though…she wouldn’t let go of me and I’m wondering if she thought I did it.”

Antonio chuckled, dusting away whatever was on him, striding beside her with their baskets of produces, aiming their way back to the church like nothing had occurred.

Laura rolled her eyes and didn’t pay much mind…but she did notice the red cloth hanging from Antonio’s back pocket.

From that day on, news and stories scurried around the city about a hero dressed all in red, guarding, protecting and acting against all selfish and heinous crimes that disruptive peace. It was the kind of tales that kept all the children in the church awake, wanting to hear anything new that occurred. Laura loved them just as much as her brothers and the rest, but her suspicions, her worries, didn’t let her showcase her true excitement.

Antonio had lately taken to disappearing. Absent from most work, from their fun, arriving at late nights with bruises, blood, strained, wanting immediate food and water to recover the energy he had used. At first, she had wondered if he had been participating in some sort of sports event in the city, but even so he would have told them and he would have had to ask permission from Patricio and in turn the friar would have told them. But with every news, every reading and hearing, Laura would assimilate with the state Antonio would arrive each time.

It was too obvious, it was too coincidental, and Laura couldn’t continue to be ignorant about this.

She had decided to remain awake, in yet another late night that Antonio had yet to show his presence. She had taken a sitting in Antonio’s room, something that was well against the rules Patricio had placed for them, but Antonio was well disobeying them as well. She heard his familiar steps, still so clear to her even though she knew he was trying to pass by as quietly as possible. She could tell his relief once he entered, shone by the candle he held, but once he turned, shinning that very light on her as well, he jumped and almost dropped it. Luckily, he didn’t shout, petrified in his spot, afraid of any little extra movement that would get her to befall on him harsh words.

“Are you the Red Mask?” Laura instantly asked, no hesitation, no fear, no other thought to interrupt.

“The what?” Antonio’s question was true.

“La Mascara Roja. The hero that everyone is talking about! The guy who’s out doing good, saving lives, dressed completely in red. There’s been stories about him across Spain, particularly in places you went through when you came here with your mom,” she eyed in accusation, Antonio starting to understand, his nervousness shown with the sweat that began to grow and how he adverted his eyes.

“They’re especially common here in Valencia, during times you are not here in the convent. When you come back, you’re wounded in ways that are exactly like the Red Mask has in his recent stories. Also…I’ve seen you with that,” she pointed to the red cloth, now obvious on his hip. In his shock with her presence he had forgotten to hide it.

“So, I repeat myself, and I want your honesty. Are you the Red Mask?” The flare she had in her eyes were ready to attack for if he omitted lies.

He stood on in silence, his eyes continuing their aversion, as if looking for some kind of escape.

“Come on, just tell me! I’m your friend and you can trust me with this!” She eased close, but yet with a still present beg.

“Okay, okay, if I’m going to tell you this, just please, keep your voice down and you have to promise to not let a single word out!”

Antonio pushed them to a further corner of the room, trying to make their words even more hidden. Laura excited, giving little jumps, such an assuring nod that made Antonio smile, knowing well that he could indeed trust her.

“Yes, fine, I am the Red Mask,” he gave up, huffing, hands on his hips, a tinge of embarrassment and blush over letting someone find out so easily and to having been forced to expose it all.

“I knew it!” She shouted, with a jump that almost hurled her all unto him.

Antonio quickly shushed her and pushed her back to the wall. “Not a single word can escape about this! Do you have any idea in how much trouble I’ll get with Patricio?” He pointed and feared. “And not just Patricio, but perhaps every single thief in Spain who wants revenge! Protecting my identity is for my own protection as well as the people that surround me. I lose that, I put the entire convent in an unbelievable risk,” Antonio wanted Laura to know well before anything.

Antonio could tell Laura understood well with her shocked and feared eyes, surely imagining the horror of that probability. “Oh…I understand then…don’t worry. I won’t tell absolutely anybody, I promise,” she acclaimed.

“Good…then, you should be heading to sleep and-”

“Wait, what, right now? I just found out something incredible and you just want me to head out and go to sleep just like that.”

“Well, yeah, I was kind of hoping you would.” Antonio had even gone to the door ready to open it for her.

“No! I mean! You have to tell me everything! How did you start? Why are you doing this? Do you get something if you do? Are you planning to continue? What if Patricio finds out? What if the wrong person does? You have to tell me everything!” Laura quickened so much that Antonio was easily overwhelmed, startling and not being sure of which question to answer and which to hope she could forget as he answered the other.

He sighed and prepared himself to talk. “Well…my mom, for as long as I can remember, used to tell me these stories about a red masked hero that went out saving the day in the most amazing ways possible. I…noticed well that she made the stories surrounding how awfully our master would treat us, the servants and anyone around him, the hero in her mind saving this person through her tale. Part of me always wanted to take this persona to save these people that I saw everyday be treated so harshly. I…never really thought it possible until well…I saw my own mom do it.” He took a sitting on the bed, a true wonder in his eyes that Laura found beautiful and more fitting to him. “She started it as a disguise to win a big price back where I’m from without letting our old master see us, using that money to runaway here. Truthfully, she was the one that did the majority of the saving when we were crossing Spain. After she died, I though that no such hope would be left again…until I realized I could do it myself.” Laura watched as he took out the red mask, confidently showing it clear, for her to wonder and awe, tempted even to touch it. “This cloth…used to belong to my father, part of a cape he always wore for sword practicing with my mom. She kept is a reminder of him and for a way to have my own connection to him.” He always saddened at the fact that he never got to meet the inspiration that even brought these stories to start. “I really cannot stand to watch people be mistreated, captive and used. If I can do something to change it, if I know I can do it, that I have the skill, then I will risk whatever possible until I know people are freed and happy.” He tightened his grip on the mask, in a noble decree that made Laura even more wondered. It was indeed like a romantic tale of a gallant hero.

“Antonio, I absolutely admire what you’re doing. It’s much more than what the aristocrats that came to mass every Sunday do, I’ll admit even the very guards of the city. I’ll worry, I’ll stay up late waiting for you. It’s not exactly something easy to deal with and I am terrified that it can end worse than what you deserve,” she sighed, worried at those images, taking Antonio’s hands in comfort. “I wish you luck in your continuous missions…but I wish to help, so…I ask from you a condition.”

Antonio huffed and was ready to anger, but Laura was quick to interrupt and say it.

“Let me join you!”

Antonio was stunned, having to shake his face to really let the words repeat well, making sure he really heard them. “You…want to join?”

“Yes! Take me the next calling! I’ll…fight or-or just an extra hand if you need to beat someone and I have to take someone elsewhere!”

“Laura, I cannot simply risk your life like that!”

“Teach me to fight if you have to! We’ll practice! Meet up somewhere every day! I’ll wear my own mask and disguise if I have to!” She was determined, a perseveration that Antonio knew there was nothing he could do to stop.

“Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!” She continued to beg, tightening the hold of their hand.

“Laura, Laura, Laura, quiet!” He still worried.

“If you don’t let me, I’ll just get louder!” She really wanted to do this.

Antonio gave up, giving a harsh sigh. “Fine, fine, we’ll do something!”

“Yes!” Laura excited in whisper, embracing Antonio, glowing at the sure adventure that was to come.

< prolouge II prolouge IV >

#The Red Mask #spamano #spamano fanfiction #spamano fanfic #spamano fic

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melalot · 6 years

Text

Confused

archive of our own link

8 Years Old

Lance was having recess outside in the school playground when he saw a group of kids circling around this boy. He noticed how all the students were quiet and very tuned interested in what one of his classmates had to say. He had never seen so many kids listen to someone this way, not even the teachers. Curiosity got the best of him so he trotted his way over to see what was grasping everyone's attention.

When he got close enough to hear the boy said, "And they told me they were gay!" Lance thought to himself. Gay? What does that mean?

Luckily enough another kid seemed to have the same question as him. "What is that? What does gay mean?"

The boy who was sharing this new word look at his classmate and began to explain.

"It's when two boys date, like a girl and a boy, do. But my mom told me it wasn't normal and that it wasn't okay."

Everyone's eyes went wide, they had never heard about two boys dating. Lance had never heard of this either, he doesn't even think much of dating, he's 8.

Before the conversation could continue the teachers started calling out to the students meaning that recess was over and instruction time was going to continue.

As Lance started getting in alphabet order to line up for class, he couldn't help but think about what he just heard.

It isn't natural the boy had said. It's not okay, the boy had continued.

And Lance thought to himself, why is it not?

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12 Years Old

Lance was in 6th grade now. While all the other kids went to a regular middle school, he went to attend the Galaxy Garrison. It was a school for those that wanted to be part of the space program.

Lance had always dreamed of becoming a fighter pilot and flying a space ship to Mars.

He got lucky enough to get into the Garrison, but even though it was a school to prepare you to go up into space, you still had to take the same curriculum you would normally take in a typical middle school.

And honestly, Lance appreciated that. He needed a sense of being normal. He needed work that wouldn’t be the same thing constantly and that it wouldn’t bore him. He also needed that sense to fit in with the outside world, and know more than just about space, he wanted to know how to live in the real world and real struggles.

Thinking about struggles, Lance remembered about his crush on Jenny. She was this girl in his grade with blonde hair and green eyes, she had small freckles plastered across her face and she just had the cutest laugh. Lance had gotten small crushes on other girls over the years, but those were ones that went away after a week. Lance had a crush on Jenny since the day he had laid eyes on her, and it hasn’t stopped.

Lance had tried using what his brother Marco had taught him about flirting. He even picked up some of his lines, and he didn’t think they were bad if he said so himself. But this new transition of puberty had started to take a toll on him.

A few weeks back, Lance was at the beach with some of his friends from the Garrison because they decided to head out there before the cold season came. And something about seeing his friends shirtless had really taken Lance aback. He started to stare, but once he realized he was staring, he tried to keep it cool. Just something about seeing them without a shirt sparked something in Lance that he didn’t know was possible. He blames puberty affecting a hormonal behavior onto him.

Now Lance had sort of the same experience in the locker room. He would try not to look at other guys and became rather uncomfortable and dreaded the days they had to change in the locker room. Lance was so scared of someone catching him stare, so Lance had found a solution which was to often stare at the ground and at his own shoes instead of paying attention to the others.

As he was about to finish tying the knot, he felt someone slide onto his bench on the left. He stopped the movement of his fingers and looked up to see who it was. It was a guy named Tim from his math class. They had talked a couple of times but not much, they usually had minimal conversations when training since they only knew each other in that class.

He tried for a smile. “Hey Tim, what’s up?”

Tim smiled, but his smile started to become rather uncomfortable.

“Hey Lance, I just wanted to ask you about something.”

“Sure, what is it?”

Tim’s head faced forward and he pointed at a boy with black hair and pale skin, though Lance could only see him from the back and couldn’t really tell who it was.

“Doesn’t it make you kind of uncomfortable?”

Lance was confused. “What would?”

Tim cleared his throat and looked around awkwardly, “You know…He’s gay and he is in the boys locker room, doesn’t it make you think he might try something?”

Oh my God.

Oh my god.

Lance couldn’t believe he was hearing this. As Lance grew older he had been more exposed to gay people and LGBT+ people in general. He had heard about kids not being accepted just because of who they loved, kids committing suicide, and kids being disowned by their families and rejected by others. He also heard about them being bullied.

Now he can’t believe he was experiencing it directly.

He wanted to tell the kid he is wrong for thinking that, and that he should mind his own business. But he felt like something was preventing him, and he didn’t know what. So instead he just looked at the boy and back at Tim.

“Nah, chill dude, just mind your own business and ignore him and nothing will happen.”

Lance finished tying his shoes and rushed over to the track field, he didn’t want to deal with this bullshit.

xxxxxxxx

13-14 Years Old

Lance had to complete and assignment for English class and it was an argumentative essay. He had to pick topics that would affect many people. So his teacher wanted them to tell her their topics today, or they could submit it in a note. Lance was in his dorm room and started searching for topics on the internet that he could use for his essay.

It was when he came across the LGBT+ section that something started to draw him in.

He looked to both sides of his room and the hallway to make sure no one was around. Once it was clear that no one would catch him, he clicked on the heading.

Doing this made Lance think back to the times he would watch YouTube videos of LGBT+ people. He liked learning about what they were going through and wanted to have somewhat of an understanding of what they go through so that maybe one day if someone needed it. He would have some sort of knowledge of what to expect.

But doing this also reminded Lance of how he would have multiple tabs open to switch tabs in case one of his parents or siblings saw his screen. Since his family mainly knew Spanish, they couldn’t really read what he was doing. But seeing something on a screen they probably would.

Lance hated that he felt like he was doing something wrong, and he was ashamed of it. It’s not that Lance was afraid of his family seeing this. He knew his family was perfectly accepting of everyone. But he couldn’t help but be scared about those few family members that seemed uncomfortable of the idea. He also didn’t want to give them the wrong idea that their son could be gay when he wasn’t.

Thinking back on this made Lance realize that maybe he shouldn’t do his topic on LGBT+ rights. So he exited the page and looked for a different topic.

xxxxxxx

Space

Over the course of the past few months, things had gone crazy.

To start off, Lance had gotten stuck in space with this blue lion along with Hunk, Pidge, Keith, and Shiro.

Then he saw an alien warship and wormholed to another planet, light years away from Earth.

After that, he met these 2 aliens on a castle ship, and he found out about this whole galactic war that could affect the whole universe.

And to say the least, after now being back on Earth after 5 years of not seeing his family or his home planet. He felt relief.

Well until other problems came up.

The war was over and they had defeated Haggar. The Garrison decided to cover them up with money since they fought and risked their lives to protect Earth.

But now Lance has personal problems.

You see, Lance is a very flirty guy. He had lots of crushes back in the Garrison like Jenny who he got over after a year and many other girls. And on space he flirted with aliens from left to right, being suave was his thing.

But being isolated in space made Lance realize a lot of things. One of them being that he is capable of having heart-wrenching feelings.

Lance knew he was a romantic guy, it was in his blood, but after so many years of flirting with girls and being rejected, he really didn’t think it would get anywhere. Plus they weren’t any major feelings either, so he decided to just keep up the act.

Until he met Princess Allura. Nobody could deny she was beautiful. Her crystal blue and purple eyes were so mesmerizing and her white poofy long hair was gorgeous. And above all she was a Princess that fought day and night in this war.

At first Lance just flirted with her because she was pretty. But then it got serious.

When he saw who Allura was in the inside he was drawn to who she was as a person. Lance started to fall hard.

He thought multiple times that maybe he should tell Allura about his feelings, but he always decided against it. That she probably wouldn’t take him seriously.

Allura found out anyway. The mice snitched. But Allura did not choose Lance in the end. She was after Lotor, and honestly, after a while, Lance realized that was who she was meant to be with, especially after he cleared up his past. They were made for each other.

Moving on was a process, but he managed to get through it. But Lance couldn’t help but think that something played a factor in making the process easier to get by.

Keith.

It was weird for Lance to think that Keith had a role in him moving on faster, but ever since Keith had come back to the team, Lance was taken upon the task of being his right hand and co-leader. So being focused on his missions helped a lot.

Or was it the missions?

Lance was in denial. And he knew it.

Even when Lance was moping over Allura, he had started to realize many things, and it wasn’t until Keith came back that he realized them.

Back when Lance was still a cadet at the Garrison, he had made up this rivalry with Keith. Keith didn’t really know Lance, and Lance knew that Keith never noticed him. But Lance was destined to score higher and to be better than the best pilot in his class.

So he made up this indirect rivalry, that he would talk about endlessly with Hunk. He even swore that he hated Keith.

But then Keith got booted from the Garrison. And honestly, it made Lance upset, but he tried not to show it. He doesn’t exactly know why he was upset, Keith was his rival, the one he swore he hated. He should have been happy that he took Keith’s spot now.

But lucky enough for him he got the chance when they rescued Shiro, and that is when Lance had made it obvious to Keith that he hated him.

Over time in space, Lance tried to let go out the act. He realized it was childish and that maybe instead he should try being Keith’s friend. If there was one thing about Lance it was this feeling he had about comforting others when they need it, and that’s what Lance did when Keith was distraught and stressed about Shiro disappearing.

When Shiro came back, Lance had noticed the one paladin too many issues and decided to talk about it with Keith because he was the current leader.

Or maybe it was because he saw Keith as a friend.

He shrugged it off.

Lance can admit that Keith is not the best person to talk to when you’re feeling down. But Lance still walked out of that room with a surge of emotions.

“And Lance. Leave the math, too Pidge.”

He couldn’t help but smile. Now Lance thought he could do this, he could be Keith’s friend.

But Keith left.

And reflecting on it now, Lance was devastated. He felt a void within him without Keith being there, without someone he can make fun of, without someone he can pick a fight with.

And Lance didn’t want to admit to himself, but he missed Keith.

Seeing Keith again after so many months boosted Lance’s mood, and he felt like he could be himself at the speed of a tick.

Keith rejecting his hug, made Lance sadder then it should have. And when Lance had some time to reflect on all that was happening. He started to question himself.

Do I like Keith?

No, I don’t. I’m straight, I like girls, and have only liked girls all my life.

But what if you do? A voice at the back of his mind said.

And Lance hated it, he started to cry. Ever since he was a kid there was this annoying voice that told Lance he was in denial about his feelings for guys. And no matter how many times Lance told that voice to shut up and assured himself that he only liked girls, it only came back that much faster, making it much harder to escape from it. And here it was again. Haunting him. And Lance didn’t know what to do this time. Could he really be into guys? Could he be into two polar opposite people at the same time?

Lance couldn’t think.

xxxxxxxx

Present

After thinking it through, Lance decided he should talk to Shiro. Taking it into account that the real Shiro was back, Lance knew Shiro might know somewhat of what he was going through.

He knew Shiro has a fiancé back on Earth named Adam. It was no secret in the Garrison that the record-breaking Takashi Shirogane was in love with a man.

So Lance knocked on Shiro’s door, taking in a deep breath. I can do this.

The door opened and Shiro’s eyes went wide in surprise.

“Lance? What brings you here?”

Lance gave him a nervous smile. “Hey Shiro, I hope you’re doing good. I was wondering if we can talk?”

Shiro rose his eyebrows up in surprise but directed Lance over to the couch of his office. Shiro set down some water for the both of them and made himself comfortable on the seat in front of Lance.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Anxiety started to kick in and his nerves were alarmed. Lance couldn’t believe he was doing this.

“Shiro I-“ Lance stared at the floor, not wanting to meet Shiro’s eyes.

C’mon Lance, just say it, spit it out.

Say you like guys.

But he couldn’t.

A tear started spilling out of Lance’s eye and his throat was closed up. He felt a weight of emotions on his chest that he wanted to leave but they just couldn’t.

“Woah! Lance! Buddy!” Shiro rushed over to Lance’s side and placed his left arm on Lance’s shoulder and rubbed it. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did something happen?”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shiro, what if…What if I like guys?”

More tears started to fall.

It took a few seconds before Shiro processed this new information, but then he finally found a way to put it into words.

“Is this new for you Lance?”

He nodded.

“Are you scared of your feelings?”

Water started filling up his eyes again, but he tried to hold them back and nodded.

“Do you have a problem with people of the same gender liking each other?”

“No!” Lance sobbed. “I-I don’t really know, I’ve always been accepting of others and I believed in equal rights for everyone and that gays should be happy! And I-I don’t know why…Why I’m so scared of these feelings when it comes to me having them. I’ve always liked girls, only girls, I grew up around people that weren’t accepting of it, even though my own family was accepting of it, I’ve been terrified my whole life, Shiro!”

Shiro tried to speak but Lance cut him off, the words kept vomiting out of his mouth.

“I started looking back on my past life, to see if there were any clues leading up to me feeling this way, and there were so many. I’ve been in denial my whole life because I’ve been so scared of what people would think of me. And I know its stupid and that I shouldn’t give a fuck, but I can’t help but think how uncomfortable others would be around me and I can’t help knowing I’m making someone feel that way because of who I like. This annoying voice in the back of my head keeps haunting me Shiro and I want it to stop! Please! How do I make it stop Shiro? How do I stop being so scared? How do I stop being so scared of my own feelings? I tried everything Shiro, I tried being straight, I tried flirting with girls, I-I made dumb rivalries up. God just, please. What if I go to hell for this?”

Lance couldn’t say any more, he had let it all out. He thinks he even let out about his crush on Keith but he doesn’t care, his feelings are out and he doesn’t know if he feels relieved or scared.

Once Lance settled down Shiro started to talk.

“Listen, Lance. I know this is hard, and not everyone is going to be accepting of this. And everyone accepts themselves at their own time. But you Lance? You’re really strong for keeping this in for so long. You’ve been in denial your whole life, there is no secret about it. But your ways of coping with it weren’t smart. You’ve been supportive and accepting of everyone else, its time you do the same for yourself. You should have just let yourself feel.”

Let yourself feel.

Those words rang in Lance’s head, and he didn’t think he could cry anymore but here he was, breaking down into tears. He hugged Shiro and sobbed on his shoulder. He apologized for being such a mess, but Shiro only supported him.

And suddenly, Lance remembered why he considered Shiro his hero back at the Garrison. He was openly gay and a record-breaking pilot. He was always so brave and owned who he was every single day. And every time Lance had strived to be just like that.

It was only now that Lance found out exactly why he wanted to be like that, and he sobbed even harder.

When Lance stopped crying, he drank some of the water Shiro had given him and tried to clam down.

He looked at Shiro and smiled. He made a good choice talking to Shiro.

“So Lance.”

“Yeah?”

A smirk was forming on Shiro’s face. “So what is this rivalry you made up with someone?”

And Lance couldn’t help but laugh. He began talking about Keith. He felt himself get lighter and lighter as he let this out.

But Lance finally understood now, even if it would take him some time, he knew what he had to do now.

Let yourself feel.

#confused #klance #closeted lance #lance #lance mcclain #fan fic #should i continue?#part 2?#bi lance #bisexual lance #voltron #vld

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