#tries to remember my timeline without digging up my timeline shrugs and carries on

[birgittesilverbae]

How do you think Shannon reacted to being told she was next in line for the Halo?

Sister Carla's body isn't yet cold where it lies in the undercroft when Mother Superion calls for Shannon to attend her. They walk the perimeter of the grounds in slow, careful lockstep and Shannon can't help but remember how they had once raced each other across the parapets, how she had again and again and again fallen panting in the grass with a practice blade at her throat. She can still see flickers of that young woman in Suzanne from time to time, when Vincent makes a particularly daft suggestion or one of Shannon's pranks blows up in her own face, the way her head tilts and her eyebrow quirks up, the slight turn as though looking for someone to share the humour of the situation with. 

Now, though, as so often is the case, she walks fully shrouded in the vestments of Mother Superion, an acid bite to her tongue tempered only by the fatigue of living past loss after loss after loss. She pauses by the front gates, the handle of her cane cradled in both hands in front of her as she leans heavily on it. It's always the longest days that take the most out of her, Shannon has noticed, but she knows far better than to even attempt to make an offer of aid. 

"I spoke with Sister Anna upon her return," Mother Superion says. Her hands are steady on the cane, but there's something about her posture, something about the aching curve of her back, that sends alarm sirens blaring through her body.

"You've chosen the new Next in Line, then," she replies, her voice steady, working carefully around the dread seeping into her bones. "It is sooner than I had hoped that Lilith would be asked to bear that weight, but–"

"Hardly. You and I both know that Lilith is not ready to carry that burden without bending beneath it." 

The honesty of it startles a confused "Mother?" from her, fear surging hot and sharp through her veins. "You don't mean Beatrice, surely."

"You never have been good at seeing the truth of what's right in front of you, child." Mother Superion turns to Shannon, raises a hand to touch her cheek. "You have always wanted so badly to be useful to your family, have you not?"

Shannon's breath catches in her throat. "I'm not fit–"

"You are, Shannon. You are more than deserving of this gift." Mother Superion's gaze slides from hers, downcast. "And you know better than most the cost."

The aching curve of Suzanne's back as she knelt over a woman turned corpse by a bullet she should have taken in her stead. The tantalising scent of seared flesh as the Halo freed itself from Suzanne's back, the month Shannon had spent waving away portions of meat at dinner service. Until Mother Superion, two days back from convalescence and already shrouded in black, had laid a steak before her and refused to let her rise until she'd choked down every last bite. 

The Halo a bullet she could catch in Lilith's stead, in Beatrice's, putting herself in their path in the faint hope that she could give them a year, six months, any time at all without the threat of this burden. She could bear it if it meant they didn't have to. She could, even if it meant Mary would never forgive her. She could. She could.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

The Darkest Timeline, Part 9

Living with Andrea feels like slipping into a second skin. It's familiar, yet entirely foreign to Lena after the coziness of Kara's apartment. Andrea's condo is all bright lights and sharp lines, aesthetic over material comfort. Lena keeps her sunglasses on, swallowing against the onset of a migraine.

"Make yourself at home," Andrea offers. She peels off her coat and hangs it on the stand beside the door.

Lena hugs her bag of belongings to her chest. "I'm actually pretty tired..."

"Oh, of course. Sorry. Here, I'll show you the bedroom."

Lena follows her deeper into the condo, and breathes a sigh of relief when the bedroom proves to be dimmer. The second thing she notices is that the bed is unmade, a fact Andrea immediately tries to rectify by twitching the covers back into place.

"Yes, I'm still a slob," Andrea jokes. "I've got an extra pillow somewhere around here..."

Lena meets Andrea's gaze. "I can take the couch--"

"What? No! This bed is huge-- we'll both fit no problem." Andrea smiles. "It'll be fun. Like a sleepover."

Lena remembers their sleepovers, all giggles and limbs beneath the sheets. Lena remembers feeling carefree with Andrea in her corner. She remembers how deeply it had cut her to see her best friend wearing the medallion that bore the symbol of Acrata.

"I lost my memory," Lena blurts.

Andrea falls still, surprised by the revelation. When she stares, Lena rushes to fill the silence.

"Five years of it, roughly. So if there's anything I need to know, please-- tell me now."

In an instant, Andrea's features crease in concern. "So you don't... you don't remember selling me CatCo? Or-- Acrata?"

Lena's scowl deepens. "I remember you stealing the medallion and letting me believe that I had lost the last remnant of my mother, of that's what you mean."

"No, I mean..." Andrea trails off. In the end, she sighs. "Okay-- maybe you should sit down."

Lena sits on the edge of the bed and listens as Andrea tells her everything. From the deal she made in the temple to the powers granted to her by the medallion itself, how Leviathan said they would one day call on her, but never did.

Lena doesn't believe it at first, not until Andrea demonstrates by walking into one shadow and coming out of another on the far side of the room.

"You told me that if Leviathan ever did reach out to me, you would help me," Andrea finishes. She comes to sit next to Lena, hands folding in her lap.

Lena looks at her, then reaches out to take Andrea's hand in hers. "I don't remember making that promise," she says quietly. "But I will honor it."

Andrea looks at her with tear-filled eyes. Lena smiles. "You jump, I jump, remember?"

Laughing wetly, Andrea turns and wraps Lena in a long hug. "I've missed you, Lena," she whispers. "So much."

Later that night, Lena lies awake next to her best friend, fighting tears of her own. She doesn't carry the anger that she used to, for Andrea. But that doesn't keep her from wishing it was someone else sleeping next to her.

---

In the days that follow, Lena loses herself in learning everything she's forgotten. She digs into old news feeds, charting her move from Metropolis to National City at the behest of her brother. Though the information is tainted by the fact she knows this reality isn't how her story started, it does give her an unbiased glimpse into her own life. She watches any televised interview with herself that she can get her hands on, and with Andrea's ties to CatCo, there's a shocking amount of footage to wade through.

The version of herself on the screen is charming, quick-witted, and engaging-- everything Lena feels she is not. She learns of the charity and outreach initiatives she's helmed, the profits earned by LuthorCorp's expansion to the West Coast. Everything is clean and good, but Lena can't help but wonder how much of the truth she's still missing, how much of her life was kept from the public eye like Lex's has been.

"It doesn't feel real," Lena says to Andrea one night. They're folded up on their respective ends of Andrea's couch, each sipping on a glass of expensive Malbec. "It feels like someone else's life. Not mine."

"What would help it feel more like yours?" Andrea asks.

Lena doesn't expect the question, and doesn't have an answer to give. She shrugs. "I don't know."

"Well, what does feel real?"

"My memories. What I remember from Metropolis. My brother going insane."

She vividly remembers the light of that red sun, the bite of the plastic ties binding her to the chair as she watched the world descend into chaos. She remembers the thundering of her heart in the courtroom after, confessing to wearing a wire. She remembers the way Lex's head had finally lifted; he had expected her to cooperate with the authorities after his arrest-- he hadn't imagined she would take the initiative to work against him beforehand.

But none of that mattered. Not anymore. None of that had happened here, and not even Andrea could fathom the loss she felt, knowing she was adrift in a reality completely different from the one she remembered.

"It sounds like you need to make your own memories," Andrea comments, sipping her wine.

Lena scoffs. "Fat chance of that while Lex is gunning for me."

"Then we take the fight to him." Andrea's features are hard, solemn-- though she has no reason to suspect Lex's villainy, she takes Lena at her word. She always has.

Lena nods.

"I think I have an idea."

---

A plan starts to build. Andrea's dining table soon becomes Lena's workbench as she cobbles together anything she thinks could help. Within a few weeks, Lena has the how: all she needs is the when and where. Luring Lex to a secluded place would prove difficult without allowing him the chance to outleverage her.

Their timetable is forced to the forefront when Andrea comes barreling in the front door, her hair windswept and harried.

"We have a problem," Andrea says, shoving her phone in front of Lena.

Lena takes the phone and struggles to focus on the text window. It's a new contact channel, consisting of an image and a single text message.

"Time for us to have a chat, ace."

Enlarging the image, Lena can just make out the red and blue shape of Supergirl sprawled on a cement floor, unconscious.

Lena's heart starts to pound, making her vision pulse with every beat. As she stares at Kara's unmoving form, the phone buzzes in her hand. A new text message pops up, containing a set of coordinates.

Taking a deep breath, Lena sets the phone down. She swallows thickly against the bile in her throat.

"It's trap," Andrea tells her point blank.

Lena nods. A trap it certainly is, but that doesn't change the fact that Kara is in danger. Danger she helped create. She lifts her head, meeting Andrea's wide eyes with a steady gaze.

"I'm going."

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Playing House Part 3 (Humor, Romance), Rated T. Full on Sylki hijinks, as promised!

Masterlist of my Sylki fanfics here.

---

The first thing she does when Thor leaves is Google herself. Apparently, she was a child actor and made a fortune there, before transitioning into modelling, and later into a successful influencing career.

"That makes perfect sense to me", Loki comments. "If I was not a prince, I would have chosen to be an actor too. Just imagine, legions of fans screaming your name, begging for your attention for just one moment, hanging onto your every word, willing to worship the very ground you walk on. Now, that is the dream." He pauses, cherishing the image in his head. "There's also the money. Looks like you and I will never have to work a day in our lives. We can just live off your money."

[[MORE]]

Sylvie feels the muscles in her laws instinctively tense. This is not her life, or her reality. She can't imagine spending eternity here. She looks at Loki sternly. "We can not. We have to return to the TVA."

"Yes, of course." He agrees immediately. A part of him likes this life. But another part of him knows there is never a gain without a loss. The universe finds a way to make him pay for every bit of happiness he ever gets. Who knows what the price may be if he chooses to stay, with his family, and with Sylvie right here?

Sylvie sets down the laptop on the bedside table, ignoring the danger of Loki's glass being knocked over and drenching it. She cannot let herself be concerned with such simple things. Ignoring them is the surest way to covince herself she hates it here. "I was wondering, if Thor can get into this town, and if he remembers us leaving this town in the past, does it mean we are free to leave?"

Loki studies her features, the resolute glint in her eyes and the defiant stance of her chin. It is clear that she will stop at nothing to get back to the TVA. "We should test it out." He says, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Maybe we can go to Oklahoma? See my supposed parents?" She attempts to play it off like it's nothing, even though she knows exactly what it means- temptation. The urge to see what this life looks like is ever-growing.

"Why can't we go to Asgard and see my parents instead?" He counters immediately.

Sylvie purses her lips, trying not to reveal her emotions. She doesn't remember her Odin or Frigga at all. A part of her longs to meet this version of them, but another part wonders how overwhelming it would feel, watching Loki occupy her place, have her life, her "parents" in this timeline. "Fine. How about we pick a neutral location first?"

"Fine." He replies curtly.

"Fine!" Her irritation escalates. She grabs the laptop again, opening up a tab to a travel website, ready to book a flight.

"LA?" He suggests.

"You just want the paparazzi attention, don't you?" She points out, but doesn't resist. "Alright."

September 1st. The date is set. They will be off to LA within three days, and if whatever being that has placed them here does not want them to leave, they will know by then.

---

"Do you really need all of these sunglasses?" Sylvie asks, after Loki stashes the fifth one in his backpack.

"Of course, I do." He defends. "Style? Remember?"

"Travelling light, remember?" She hits back, taking out two random pairs and throwing them back on her dresser. "Just take what you absolutely need."

"I absolutely need my sunglasses." He says stubbornly.

She can either give in on this trivial matter, or she can dig her heels in and fight it out with him. A stupid pair of sunglasses is not worth the effort. "Fine." And in return, there's something that he has to compromise for her as well. "Only if you help me get my swords past security."

"With pleasure." He says with a grin, and with a wave of his hand, the newly arrived swords from eBay are magically cloaked.

Sylvie looks at her own luggage. She has never really owned anything. She jumped from one apocalypse to another, with only her life, and sometimes food supplies for a few days. It feels surreal to look at the clothes in her wardrobe now. The thought of carrying them with her feels even more foreign.

She looks at the tons of products on her dresser, skin creams, lotions, toners, cleansers and heaven knows what else. All the luxuries she never had.

All the luxuries she does not want.

"I'll just pack a change of clothes." She says finally.

"You don't want anything else?" He asks, surprised.

"These are just things, Loki." She explains. "They can be replaced. I have no attachment to them."

---

She regrets not booking first class. She has been on planes before, using crashing aircrafts as a temporary hideout spot to regroup when the TVA was on her tails. As a stowaway, she never realized just how annoying a plane journey can actually be.

Loki graciously offers her the window seat, noting her unease as soon as they board. She thanks him with a smile, and they nod in mutual understanding.

She stares out of the window, at the town that is supposedly her home, and for the first time ever, she feels a pang of homesickness for a place that is not Asgard. She has been here for just five days now, yet, the thought of sleeping in her own bed is so tempting.

Sylvie notices how she is thinking of the bed as her bed now, but tries not to dwell on it too much.

The plane takes off without incidence, and she dozes off quickly. When she wakes up, she notices a thin comforter wrapped around her shoulders. Turning to her side, she sees Loki sleeping as well, his mouth slightly agape. She snuggles close to him, suddenly needing the comfort of his warmth, and the woman on the aisle seat gives her a dirty look. There's a baby crying somewhere in the back, and what feels like the beginning of a massive headache. But all that fades away when she lays her head on his shoulder.

---

When the flight arrives at LAX, they are both a little scared to leave its comfort. They are about to find out if they are free to travel wherever they want, or whether the action had any consequence. Sylvie is the first to take a step out, and they are both relieved to see nothing happens. The baggage claim goes smoothly, though slowly, and they get a cab quickly. Sylvie hides her grin when she sees Loki put on his sunglasses.

"So we're here." He says, staring at Sylvie, while she stares out of the window.

She only hums in response.

"Is this your honeymoon?" The driver asks.

Loki laughs nervously. "No, no. We've been married for quite a long time. This is just... a vacation."

The driver recommends them a lot of tourist places. Sylvie tunes him out. This is just a test. She has no interest in touring LA. They have their return flight scheduled for the next day.

They check into their hotel room, and she plops down on the bed immediately. "It seems we are free to leave the town. Just not the reality, I suppose." She runs her hands over the silky sheets, amused. "I must say, whoever placed us here has taken every measure to make this prison comfortable."

Loki follows suit and takes a seat beside her. "I suppose that is indeed generous of him. Or her."

Sylvie turns to the side to look at him. "So how do we get out of here then? Got any plan?"

He shrugs. It's not like there's a book called What to do when you find yourself trapped in an alternate universe with your alternate self for Dummies. "Right now, the plan is to get some dinner, then some sleep. Then perhaps in the morning we can see a bit of LA?"

"You want to play tourist?" She asks in a neutral tone.

He replies in kind, testing the waters. "We are here already, and we have the time, so why not?"

"Okay." She replies, a little unsure, but not entirely opposed to the idea. The weariness of the journey starts taking its toll on her. She messages her temples with her fingertips. "Should we order room service?"

Loki contemplates for a moment. On the one hand, she looks really tired, and she could use a good night's sleep. On the other hand, she has been completely on edge and razor focused on the mission since they got in this mess. Well, since they met, actually, and probably for centuries before that. She could also use a bit of fun and relaxation.

With that in mind, he carefully voices his proposal. "I was thinking maybe we can go down to the restaurant and have a proper dinner."

Sylvie looks up, grinning mischievously. She's about to call his bluff. "What, like a date?" His deer-in-the-headlights reaction makes her laugh. "Calm down, I'm just teasing you."

---

It's not a date, but it kind of is. It's a four course meal and a fine bottle of champagne over candlelight, after all.

"Was it like this? Back at Asgard?" Sylvie wonders.

"Mostly. But Asgard was grand, elegant. This is..."

"A cheap replacement." She completes.

Loki smiles. "Precisely."

They talk about their Asgard bedrooms, the similarities and the differences between their safe haven in the palace. An hour passes swiftly.

"The wine is good." Sylvie comments, sipping on her first glass of wine, when the champagne is drained.

"Yes, quite good." Loki agrees, on his first glass as well.

The tiniest buzz starts to take root in him, and his mind wanders into the realm of possibilities, the future he can have, here and now. His eyes focus on the brighest object in front of him- Sylvie.

She feels her cheeks flush under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You are just so..." He blinks. What is another word for Asgard's Sun when it disappears into the azure lakes? "Breathtaking"

Her lips curve into a shy smile. This is the beginning of the same foolishness he showed on the train in Lamentis-1 that almost got them killed. But right now, their life isn't in imminent danger. Right now, she is just amused. "Wow, you really can't hold your liquor, can you?"

"Of course I can. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard." He declares proudly.

"Yes, yes, I've heard the speech." She says it with a smile and an eye-roll. "We should get you upstairs."

He objects immediately. "But I'm not done yet."

"Oh, I think you're quite done." She beckons the nearest waiter. "Can we get the bill, please?"

He can still walk surprisingly well, but she holds his hand tightly, just in case he decides to take a detour, and drags him into the elevator.

"Blonde looks good on you." He comments out of the blue. "Maybe I should go blonde too."

She grins. "Like Thor?"

He glares at her. "You're a buzzkill."

---

Sylvie opens the door after fumbling with the keys for a minute. She is starting to feel the effect of the alcohol as well. She takes off her shoes and her earrings, while Loki runs to the loo.

"Why did you book a room for two?" He asks in a serious tone, leaning against the door-frame of the bathroom.

Sylvie freezes, her hand hanging mid-air for five uncomfortable seconds before she awkwardly drops it to her side.

Why did she book a room for two? She could have just rented separate rooms, or at least ones with separate beds. It's not like she and Loki are actually together.

But they have been. At least for the past few days. Why do they need separate rooms here when they share a bed back home?

Home. Sylvie realises with alarm that she's thinking of her prison as her home.

Is this reality starting to mess with her mind now?

"It's okay, I don't want to leave you either." Loki's voice pulls her out of her inner monologue. She turns around quickly in his direction. He's still drunk, and it shows, but he has a look on his face that she has never seen before- a mix of resolution and fondless. His eyes whisper silent vows of loyalty, and something else, something he can't quite express yet. "I will never leave you."

Sylvie smiles, closing the distance between them and standing next to him. Her hand finds his by sheer instinct. "Good to know."

"I mean it, Sylvie." He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, before he tugs her along with him as he sits down on the bed, unable to stand any longer in his inebriated state. She is grateful to be seated too, and she's unsure whether it is just the alcohol. "I know you hate it here. But I like this." He indicates at her, then at himself, then back at her. "I like falling asleep next to you, and walking into the kitchen first thing every morning to see you cursing at the microwave. I like how you hum in the shower and scream at the TV."

Sylvie listens quietly, her eyes focused on the feeling of his hand in hers. She is trying to memorize this moment, burn the shape of his fingers and the feel of his touch into her brain, so that when it's gone- when he is gone- like everything in her life always is, she will have another good memory to relive again and again.

Loki continues. "I like the way you burn the pasta every time you try to cook."

"I don't burn the whole dish." She retorts playfully. "Just the bottom part."

He shakes his head to show he disagrees. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Her heartbeat quickens. Is he going to confess that he has feelings for her?

Does he have feelings for her?

"Sure." She barely whispers back.

Loki double-checks. "Promise me that you will never tell yourself?"

She laughs softly. "I promise."

Loki tenses, suddenly looking sober. He lets go of her hand, to rest his by his side, his fingers clenched into a fist. Mastering all his courage, he finally speaks. "I don't want to leave. Ever. I like it here."

Sylvie looks away, suddenly needing air. Hearing Loki say that makes her feel irrationally angry. He promised to be on her side every step of the way, but the minute he finds a life he likes, he's ready to throw in the towel.

A part of the anger stems from the fact that she knows, a major reason he wants to stay is her, this life he has with her. Two Lokis on any other timeline will cause Nexus events. But here, they are free to be together. Timelines don't start branching off like a growing vine on timelapse video every time they touch. And he wants that. She knows this because he has all but said it with his words and his actions.

And because she wants it too. Damn it, she wants it so much. She is getting sucked into this reality, indeed.

But she knows she has to finish what she started- she owes it to herself, and to the people out there who need her help, who will be robbed of their lives if she doesn't stop whoever is doing this.

She wants to-

- But she can't.

"Loki, I-" she stops when she turns around to see he has already fallen asleep. Wordlessly, she wraps the comforter over his sleeping form, before crawling under it herself. Turning to her side, facing away from him, she wonders what's next for them.

[talpup]

Light In the Darkness:

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.  For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Some much needed comfort and fluff for Yami and Teris as we end Part II of their story.  Next update we'll be starting Part III with drama at the Magic Knights Entrance Exams.  In case you haven't noticed, parts in this fic are sectioned by years starting with the Entrance Exam, and Yami and Teris' 1st year as Magic Knights.

To make it easier on anyone wanting to look back, I've put my timeline notes for Part II at the end of this chapter over on AO3.  And have also added my timeline notes for Part I at the end of chapter 13.  Please excuse my abbreviations and the unedited mess these notes are.

Chapter 63

It was the start of a new month.  Both Yami and Teris had been home and out the that cursed infirmary Yami never wanted to see again for a little more than a week.  Though their sleeping patterns were almost back to normal, they both got fatigued a lot sooner than they use to, turned in early and stayed in bed late.

Bran had thankfully helped Gendry tend to the Saber Wolves.  Taking them out for rides and such when Gendry couldn’t.  Today Yami had gone out to the kennels with Gendry to see Pilfer and No Name for the first time since this mess.  Though his friend hadn’t so much as let him carry the bucket of meat, Yami still found himself winded and tired from the trek down as if he had put in a full day of hard labor.

Yami glanced back up the path in disgust, not looking forward to the trip up hill.

“You have to take it slow.”  Gendry said, tossing the Saber Wolves a leg each.  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.  You’ll be back to normal in no time.  We only got you back home nine days ago.”

Yami wiped the sweat off his brow and leaned against an iron post.  “I hate this.  Some Third Class Senior Magic Knight I make.”

Gendry shook his head at Yami’s self disparaging remark.  “You make a fine one.  And you’ll make an even finer co-Vice Captain.”

Yami looked up wondering how he knew about Jax’s plans.

Gendry smirked.  “It’s easy to go unnoticed and overhear things when one usually doesn’t say much to call attention to themselves. Especially if the one not noticing is Bronn.”

“I’ll certainly make a better Vice Captain than him.”  Yami said.

“That wouldn’t be too difficult.”  Gendry said, dumping out the wolves drink pails and refilling them with clean water.  “Let’s try to raise the bar a little higher, shall we.”

Yami smirked at his friend.  “Let Pilfer out.”

Gendry did as he was told, the Saber Wolf rushing to Yami, almost knocking him over.  Yami let out a huff, holding onto the wolfs neck until he regained his balance.  He was grateful Gendry hadn’t rushed over to try and help him.  Tobin was a good friend and all; but Yami had quickly lost patience with how Tobin hovered and tried to do everything for him.  How was he suppose to get better if he wasn’t given the chance to struggle?

Yami patted Pilfer’s flank.  “Missed you too boy.  Promise we’ll go for a ride as soon as I’m able.”

“But not before.”  Gendry said, petting No Name through the bars.

Yami scowled at his friend and told the wolf.  “Don’t listen to him. He just wants to keep you to himself.”  He looked up at Gendry. “What of the one that was snooping around and digging at their pens?”

“Moved on.”  Gendry said.

“Good. Don’t think we could've managed another now.  Even with Bran stepping up to help.”

Gendry nodded.  While he could handle the trained Pilfer and No Name with ease, he wouldn’t be able to do anything but feed a wild Saber Wolf and keep it penned up till Yami had been able to train it.  Gendry had assisted Yami a bit with training No Name; but he didn’t know much about the process.  He certainly didn’t feel comfortable trying anything like that on his own; which would have spelled disaster from the start as the wild wolf would have sensed his timid unease.

“Bran has been a big help.  He’s rather good with the wolves.”  Gendry told.

Yami’s eyes narrowed.  “Used his magic?”

“Not once.  When he offered to help I had him come down with me and watched him just to be sure he could manage without getting himself killed or needing to use it.  He’s got a good sure hand and easy confidence about him when he’s of mind.”

“He needs to grow up and finish growing a backbone but he’ll make a decent leader eventually.”  Yami said.

Gendry lifted his brows and blinked.  From someone like Yami that was high praise.  Especially when said about Bran who Yami had always been particularly hard on.  It struck Gendry that maybe that was why Yami treated Bran so.  To bring out the hidden aspects Yami saw in the boy that would help see him grow.

Smirking, Gendry asked.  “Already eyeing a future Vice Captain of your own?”

Yami grinned back.  “Are you saying you don’t wanna be my Vice Captain when it’s time?”

“Hell no!”  Gendry laughed, knowing Yami’s query for the joke it was.

Yami laughed as well.

Gendry sat down along No Names kennel.  The Saber Wolf laid down, his tuft of fur poking through the metal bars.  Patting the creature absently, Gendry asked.  “How’s Teris?”

“As frustrated as I am, if not more.”  Yami said, more falling than sliding to the ground to sit.  “She’s even weaker than I am.” He thought about that day.  “She went through a lot.”

“You both did.”  Gendry said.

Yami shook his head.  Recalling his utter fear and rage as he pleaded, prayed, and demanded for Teris to breath.  “She died for a moment.” He confessed, throat bobbing with emotion.

Gendry started.  “I didn’t know that.”

Yami shook his head again.  “No one does.”  He looked at Gendry, eyes deathly fierce.  “And no one will.”

Gendry nodded, understanding.

Yami looked away, wondering what he would have done if Teris hadn’t come back to him and lived.  Rain hell down over every living thing on the earth sounded about right.  No one.  Not even Gendry, Tobin, or Julius would’ve been safe from such consuming wrath.  Whatever magic that was within him.  Whether it was just dark magic or Darkness itself.  He would have used it to do his bidding and ended a world that dared to go on without Teris Nova in it.

Yami blinked and shook his head, ridding himself of such thoughts.  It didn’t bare thinking about.  Teris had lived. ��He had called her back to herself, willing her to breathe.  It wasn’t like him to think on past possibilities and annoyed him that he was doing so now.

Gendry wanted to ask more but knew now wasn’t the time.  Thinking now wasn’t the time for Yami to be left to his thoughts either, he volunteered.  “I kissed Abril yesterday.”

Yami looked at his friend, brow raised in amusement.  “What’s that make?  Two kisses in the course of a year?”

“Half a year.”  Gendry stated, dryly.

“You better slow down.  You don’t wanna overwhelm the girl.”

Rolling his eyes, Gendry tossed a blade of grass at Yami.

Yami scratched the back of his neck.  “That’s got to be the one of the few things I completely don’t understand about you.”

“We’re not you and Teris.”  Gendry said.

Yami huffed.  “That’s for damn sure.  I kissed Teris for the first time twice in the same night and would've kissed her some more it we haven’t been interrupted.  Are you two even together?”

Gendry plucked another blade of grass and toyed with it.  “When are we not?  She’s always following me around.  Worse than my own shadow she is.”

Yami didn’t tell him that wasn’t what he meant, sure Gendry had understood.

“I think might want to marry her.”  Gendry said.

Yami didn’t say that Gendry would have to do more than kiss Abril once every six months if he had hope of kids.  Who was he to judge? Instead, he asked.  “Does she know?”

“You laugh.”  Gendry scowled.

“No. I didn’t.  But I almost did.”  Yami admitted.

Settling back, Gendry shrugged.  “I don’t know what Abril wants.  We don’t talk about stuff like that.”

“What do you talk about?”  Yami wondered.  Gendry was even less chatty than him.  Every time he saw the two together it was always Abril doing the talking.  The girl rarely shut up.  Yami didn’t know how Gendry stood it.  Though he supposed after awhile it just became a sort of background noise like an insentient rain.  Maybe more like an annoying cricket who’s chirping kept you awake; but no matter how hard you looked you couldn’t find it to shut it up and instead did your best to ignore it.  It’s sound always present but sometimes buffeted when your mind traveled elsewhere.

Gendry shrugged again.  “Stuff.”

Yami eyed his friend, a smirk of amusement tugging at his lips.  “Do you even get a word in edgewise?”

“Sometimes.” Gendry said, defensively.

Yami held up a hand calling for peace.

“It’d be nice to retire in five or six years.  Get married.  Open up a smith shop of my own.  Maybe in Kiten or Neige.  Somewhere close enough to the base so I can still come by regularly and help you with the Saber Wolves.”

“I’m part of this dream future of yours?”  Yami questioned, brows raised.  He felt slightly uncomfortable by that.  It was one thing for him to fantasize about being married to Teris and Captain of the Black Bulls.  But for someone else to make him part of their future plans?  That put expectations and pressure on him that he didn’t want.

Gendry shrugged.  “You are planning on becoming Captain of the squad one day right?”

Yami gave a slow nod.

“I don’t see you giving up on taking in wolves that pass your way.  If anything I see you growing it into a sort of business.”

“I think I’ll have my hands full being Captain.”  Yami said.

“I think you’ll have a tough time providing a life Teris is accustomed to and get in the gambling you want on a Captains salary.”  Gendry countered.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Teris isn’t the typical royal.  Her life here is what she’s happy and accustomed to.  Not to mention she’ll be bringing in her own hefty salary as Knights Commander.”

“Do you know how much time a Magic Knights Commander spends out in the field?”  Gendry asked.  “You’ll need something to pass the time while she’s out, else you’ll go mad or broke gambling or both.”

“I’m well aware with how often she’ll be away from home.”  Yami snapped.  But oh, the time they would have when she was home.  He might not even let her leave the bedroom, he thought smiling.

Gendry watched Yami smile wondering what he was thinking.  “All I’m saying is it’s something to consider.

“I have.”  Yami admitted.

Gendry gave a rough sigh wondering why Yami was always so difficult.  “And?”

Yami shrugged.  “It’s a consideration for future me to deal with and decide.  I try not to think that far in advance.”

“But you have thought of it?”  Gendry pressed.

“Once.” Yami looked at Gendry.  “Twice now I suppose.”

63.2

Seeing Fuegoleon enter, Teris pushed up from her seat and stood.  Her cousin rushed to her, wrapping her in a hug.

“Don’t scare me like that ever again!  I’ll kill you if you do.” Fuegoleon breathed, squeezing her tightly.

“I think that makes the point of her frightening us like that moot.” Nozel said, from behind him.

“Leon.” Teris gasped, patting at his shoulder.

The Crimson Lion loosened his hold.  “Sorry!”  He pulled back looking at her as she caught her breath.  “Sorry.  You okay?”

“Step out of her space and give her some room to breathe and she will be.” Nozel said.

Fuegoleon turned to the Silver Eagle.  “You got to see her.  I didn’t.”

“Only for a moment.  And I haven’t seen her since, so if you don’t mind.”  Nozel stepped between the Vermillion and Teris, and gave her a gentle hug.  His heart sung when she hugged him back.  It was a brief, light touch; but receptive contact nonetheless.  Reluctantly, he released her, not wanting to press his luck by holding her too long.  Stepping back, Nozel looked at her.  “Don’t scare me like that again.”

Teris looked between the two and told.  “Trust me.  It wasn’t my intention to scare anyone in the first place.  I certainly would rather never do so again.”

Fuegoleon saw her wobble.  He and Nozel each grabbed an arm, steadying her.

“Let’s sit you back down.”  Fuegoleon suggested, he and Nozel helping her sink back into the sofa.

The Vermillion ran his fingers along Teris’ brow, wiping her hair out of her face.  He frowned at how clammy she felt.  Mereoleona hadn’t over exaggerated.  If anything, his sister had under exaggerated just how bad off Teris still was.  He found himself being somewhat grateful that they hadn’t allowed him to visit her before now.  He wasn’t sure what he would've done if he had seen her in a worse state.

He glanced at Nozel who was watching Teris with a look of devotion, worry, and barely controlled anger.  Pulling Nozel back from her, the two men sat.  Fuegoleon noted that Nozel opted to sit on the sofa beside Teris, but far enough that two full hand lengths could be lined up between them.  Ever the perfect and proper gentleman, Fuegoleon thought.  Well except for that one time when the Silva had kissed her.

“I knew you were jealous I got a double promotion.  But did you really have to go this far to best me?”  Fuegoleon teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Teris smiled.  “I use to wonder how you two could think of each other as rivals but not consider me one.  Now I know.  It’s cause neither of you stand a chance against me.  It’d be futile.”

“I don’t know about all that.  But we’ll leave Nozel in the dust for sure.”  Fuegoleon grinned.

“Never.” Nozel told, glancing at the Crimson Lion.

“What’s that, still Fifth Class Senior Magic Knight?”  Fuegoleon asked, turning an ear to him.

Teris laughed.

Nozel let it slide for her sake.  It was good to see her happy and smiling despite all that had happened to her.  He had known Yami Sukehiro was nothing but trouble.  But after everything that had happened, he couldn’t see how everyone else didn’t know it as well.  If Captain Jax hadn’t welcomed the foreign peasant into his squad.  If Teris had accepted another squads offer.  If Yami had never washed up on the Clover Kingdoms shores…

As if pulling the name from Nozel’s head, Fuegoleon asked.  “Where’s Yami?”

Nozel gave his friendly rival an icy look.

“Out with Gendry visiting the wolves.”  Teris answered.

“Is that some sort of figure of speech?”  Nozel questioned. Considering both men were peasants and weren’t much better than wild beasts, he couldn’t be sure.

Fuegoleon leaned back, crossing an ankle over a knee.  “Yami has two Saber Wolves that he’s captured and trained.”

“Himself?” Nozel questioned, raising a brow.  He remembered the one that had all but attacked him when he had walked Teris home and how Teris had brazenly mounted and ridden the thing.

Fuegoleon nodded.

Nozel looked away trying not to be impressed.  Even if Saber Wolves were more difficult to catch and train, training animals was a tradesman's task.

“No Name’s mine.”  Teris reminded.

“Then why aren’t you out there visiting him?”  Fuegoleon grimaced, regretting the words as soon as he spoke them.

“Don’t do that.”  Teris said.

“Do what?”  Fuegoleon asked, catching Nozel’s glare at his tactless insensitivity.

“Don’t look as if you’re sorry for me.  I’ll be back to full strength and better than ever in no time.  You and Nozel should take this time to catch up.  You’re not going to get another chance.”

“Is it true Captain Jax wants to make you and Yami co-Vice Captains?” Fuegoleon asked.

Nozel straightened.  He looked between the two wondering why Fuegoleon hadn’t mentioned this to him.

“Who told you that?”  Teris asked.

“I was filing reports in Mereoleona’s office when the Blue Rose Captain stormed in asking her if she’d heard.  Unfortunately I didn’t get to hear more as Leona shooed me out.”  Fuegoleon watched his cousin a moment before asking again.  “So is it true?”

Teris shrugged.  “Nothing’s true until it’s done.”

“But you’re of a rank where it’s now possible.  And though rare, there have been co-Vice Captains in the past.”  Fuegoleon pressed.

“It would certainly go a long way in helping me reach Knights Commander.” Teris said.

Nozel watched her out of the corner of his eye, furious at such a possibility.  Yami had caused enough problems.  The foreigner had endangered Teris.  Tempted her.  Laid his filthy hands and lips on her.  And now Yami and Teris would share a position of power, assuring they’d work all the more closely together.  Nozel almost wished the people his father had hired to kill Yami had been successful.

“At least you don’t have to spend your time searching in secret anymore.”  Fuegoleon said, changing the subject.

“Lot of good it does.  Other then having a name and a brief overview of what those crazies think and want, there’s nothing of use.” Teris’ gaze became unfocused for a moment, lost in thought. Finally she said.  “They’re not done.”

“Yes they are.”  Nozel said, fiercely.  “They’re never getting near you again.  Even if we have to rain mercury and fire down on the other three kingdoms and then some.”

“He’s right.  No one messes with my family.”  Fuegoleon said.

Teris almost pointed out that they weren’t really family, their connection so old and diluted as to be mute.  Instead she tried to give the two a smile, and failed.

“Full disclosure was only given to the Captains.  But they were given leave to inform the Senior Magic Knights in their squad most of what had happened and the events that led up to it.”  Fuegoleon said.

Teris shook her head.  “Maybe later.  I’d really rather not talk about it right now.”

Nozel placed a hand on hers.  “You don’t have to.  You never have to if you don’t want to.”

She gave him a grateful nod of thanks and slowly pulled her hand out from under his.  It wasn’t because of the past kiss.  With everything that had happened, all of that seemed like forever ago and she was well passed any lingering anger or mistrust toward Nozel for it.  No. The reason she pulled away was because her slow to fade wounds still stung when touched, and she didn’t want him feeling the bandage around her wrist that the cuff of her long sleeved blouse covered.

She wasn’t sure what either had been told.  But even if they knew about her injuries, she didn’t want attention called to them.  She had taken to buttoning the blouse over her tank top to all but the top most button so that the bandages on her chest weren’t easily visible.  The look in Yami’s eyes every time he glimpsed the peek of white bandages never fail to send a shiver of fear down her spine. He looked like he wanted to tear the world apart.  And given what had happened the morning of the Summer Solstice she thought he just might be able to do it.

“What about the dreams?”  Fuegoleon asked.  “The Captain,” he said, speaking of his sister, “mentioned that you had been having some sort of communicative dreams with that page you and Yami got from a labyrinths vault.  But that you couldn't remember them.”

“My Captain didn’t mention any of this.”  Nozel said, once again looking between the two.

“Guess my Captain has more faith and trust in her Senior Magic Knights than your does.”  Fuegoleon said, not mentioning that Mereoleona had told him that bit privately.

“I know I remembered them for an instant.”  Teris said thinking back, the two men turning to her.  “I remembered them all so clearly. They’re what helped save everything.”

“Everything as in?”  Fuegoleon prompted.

Teris shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I don’t remember any of them now.  Just that I did when it mattered most.”  She closed her eyes, trying to force them back.  “They’re there.”  She gritted, and sighed, opening her eyes.  “It’s like a mist you can’t see but can feel.  It’s frustrating.”

She was grateful Julius and Marx hadn’t suggested they attempt to magically access them again.  But another part of her wanted them to try.

“The Captain took away all my notes, including the book you copied for me.”  Teris complained apologetically to Nozel.  “Says I don’t need the temptation.  That I’m still too weak.  Whatever that means.”

Nozel wanted to say that he was glad.  He was sorry he had ever copied the book in the first place.  It was stupid, but a part of him felt responsible.  As if in giving Teris those copied pages he had played a part in what had happened.

“It means exactly that.  That you are still too weak.”  Fuegoleon stated.  “Trust your Captain, Julius, and Commander Greywright to know and do what’s best for you.  Don’t push yourself.  You’ll only delay your recovery.”

Teris made a face.

“I’ll dunk you in the Lava Springs if you don’t behave yourself.” Fuegoleon threatened.

Teris didn’t believe him; but given that he had carried out the threat once before, she wasn’t going to call him on it.

“I mean it Teris.”  Fuegoleon went on.  “I know you don’t like being told what to do.  But this time you have to.  For the people who care about you, if not yourself.”

“I know.”  Teris sighed.

“Promise me.  Promise us.”  Fuegoleon glanced at Nozel.  “That you’ll behave and take it slow.”

“I will.”  Teris assured.  “I promise.”

63.3

Teris found Yami just outside the kitchens, sitting under a tree.  She slumped against the door frame watching him lounge, his eyes closed, face lifted.  His color had returned for the most part.  The dark circles under his eyes barely noticeable in most light.  Other than him being so easily fatigued, the only other telling sign of what he had been through were the bandages around his wrists that Gilly came daily to change.

Teris had been so grateful that they had survived.  That Yami had made it through.  But after hearing Commander Greywright explain everything. After Julius told her that this event had been focused on her as it had been the Summer Solstice.  She could only wonder what Alowishus Spade and his Agents of Chaos had planned for Yami come the Winter Solstice.  It didn’t matter that Julius, Jax, and Greywright swore they would never let the crazies get their hands on Yami.  Teris herself would make sure they never got near him.  Still, a fear tugged at the pit of her stomach.

“Are you going to join me or just stand there admiring the view?”  Yami asked, eyes still closed.

“You can sense my Ki now?  Is that how bad off I am?”  Teris questioned.

Yami leveled his head opening an eye to look at her leaning against the kitchen door.  “It’s cause I heard someone but couldn’t sense their Ki that I knew it was you.  Come here.”

He watched, waiting till she took a step his way before leaning his head back and closing his eyes.  Feeling her near he pushed himself up. Sitting more upright against the tree, he reached up helping her sit on the ground.

Teris’ legs trembled as she lowered herself, only getting halfway down before her legs gave out.

Yami wrapped his arms around her as she fell, pulling her over to fall on him.  “I got you.”

Teris released a breath of disgust.  “This is ridiculous.”

“Just imagine the time we’ll have getting back up.”  Yami said.

“I think I’ll sleep out here if no one comes looking.”  Teris said, adjusting her legs out in front of her.

She tried to push herself up against the tree trunk but Yami pulled her back to rest against his chest.  She obliged, too tried not to.

“Is that why you’re still out here?  Couldn’t get back up?”  Teris wondered, relaxing against him.

Yami’s arms looped around her waist.  “It’s nice out.”

“It’s hot.”

“Exactly.” He murmured, holding her closer, reveling in the heat she gave off.

Teris closed her eyes, soaking up the coolness his mana gave off.  “You feel good.”

“So do you.”  Yami breathed against her ear.

They sat silently for a long time, enjoying each others presence and comforting temperatures.

Finally, Teris asked.  “How were Pilfer and No Name?”

“Happy to see me.  We need to get you down there to see them.  Even if Tobin or Gendry have to carry you.”

“I’m not letting Tobin or Gendry carry me.”

“Fine. We’ll work something out with a wagon or something.”  Yami said.

Teris gave a growling sigh.  “I hate this.”

“I know.”  Yami ran a hand along her arm, kissing her neck.  His chin rested on her shoulder, eyes peeking over to see the slight bubbling of her blouse where the bandages were.  “I hate it too.”

“Do you think—  I mean...  Death can’t really reside in anyone any more than Light and Darkness can.  Right?”

Yami’s fingers slid over her hand which rested on his knee.  “All that stuff went over my head.  I haven’t given it much thought since they told us.  Never mind that you promised Julius, Greywright, and Jax that you wouldn’t go into study mode.”

Teris looked back over her shoulder at him.  “I’m not!  What can I do anyway?  Jax took away everything I had.  I’m surprised he didn’t try to take away my grimoire.”

Yami was sure their Captain would’ve liked to.  He certainly would have.

“I’m only wondering what you think.”  Teris pressed.

“I don’t.  It’s why we work so well together.  You do all the thinking for us.”

“Yami.” Teris said, unamused.

Yami sighed, eyes looking back at the flat of her chest.  “I try not to think about it.”

Teris caught him looking at her bandages.  “And how’s that working out for you?”

“Honestly?” His eyes lifted to hers.  “Not as well as I’d like.  I’m hoping it gets easier when we get back to normal.”  If things ever get back to normal, he thought darkly.

Thoughts going along the same line, Teris said.  “We’ll get there.  We have to.  I don’t think Jax would tolerate Vice Captain’s who couldn’t use their magic, let alone barely make it down the stairs for meals.”

Neither of them said it, but both wondered if their mana would ever calm enough for them to do as they had done before.  They’d be healed up and better than ever if they could just trust the control of their mana enough to feed off of each others.

Needing to know, Yami asked.  “You haven’t opened your grimoire to that damned page of Chaos have you?”

“No.”

Yami lifted his head from her shoulder and looked at her.

Turning her head to meet his gaze, she said again.  “No!  Even I’m not that stupid.”

Satisfied, he told.  “Don’t go doing it alone or without me.”

Teris looked away upset that he was being so protective, yet couldn’t care less about the reasoning behind why the Agents of Chaos were doing all this.

Yami sighed against her.  As a man of action, he didn’t much care about a persons reasoning.  He certainly didn’t care about the Agents of Crazies reasoning's.  All he cared about was that Teris was safe and protected.  Even if that protection was currently from herself.  He had lost her once.  He wasn’t going to lose her again.

“Jax still apologizes to me as if this was somehow his fault.  It’s weird and disconcerting.”  Teris confessed.

Yami shrugged.  “He probably feels that this never would’ve happened if he didn’t tell us about the mission.  It’s stupid.  But it’s Jax.  What can you expect?”

“He said something similar the day Greywright came and told us everything.  Jax said something about how the threat and chance of danger from the start should have kept him from ever offering us the mission in the first place.”

Yami remembered the conversation he and Jax had in the Captain's office. He should’ve turned the mission down.  Let Jax talk him out of it. If only he hadn’t been so arrogant and hungry to see himself and Teris promoted.  Then again Alowishus and his people would've simply found another way to get their hands on them.  No one that crazy, who had planned that long, simply gave up.  The Agents of Chaos might've even attacked the base in force.

“What threat and danger was he talking about?”  Teris asked, remembering the way the Captain and Yami had been that day.

“You’re fishing.”  Yami rumbled, tone censuring.

“Cause there’s something to catch.  Yami--”

“Don’t.” Yami silenced.  “Just don’t.”  He pressed his lips to her shoulder.  “Please.  Ikigai. Just let it go and don’t.”

Teris closed her eyes knowing without a doubt that there was something there.  Upset that there was apparently yet another danger, and this time Yami seemed to be in on keeping it from her.  She wanted to accuse him of being like Sir Jorah and Greywright; but didn’t, knowing that would only further upset the both of them.  She didn’t want to argue.  She doubted she’d have the strength to do so if she tried.  Letting it go, she told herself that she’d figure it out later if Yami refused to tell her.

Yami’s lips plucked at the fabric of her blouse in a slow, steady rhythm. He could sit like this with her forever and be happy.  He found it darkly amusing that he just might if no one came looking and helped them up.

“Yami.”

Lips still pressed to her shoulder, Yami gave a low throaty hum.

“What did Julius mean when he mentioned you were the third seventh?” Teris felt him smile against her shoulder.  “What?”

Yami raised his head and kissing her temple.  “Nothing.  Just thinking how alike you and Julius are.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Even just sitting here your mind doesn’t stop.”

“Is it suppose to?”  Teris asked.

“It’d be nice if it occasionally did.  Yeah.”  Yami admitted.

Teris turned away from him, arms crossing.  “Forget I said anything.  I didn’t mean to be a bother.”

“Don’t be like that.”  Yami chuckled.  “That’s not how I meant it and you know it.”  He leaned forward, fingers caressing her jawline trying to get her to turn back to him.  “Come on, Teris.  I love the way you are.”  His nose ran up the side of her neck.

Teris tilted her head away from him.

“I won’t tell you, if you don’t forgive me.”  Yami warned, playfully.

“Which should suit you just fine.  Since I apparently think and talk too much.”  Teris snipped.

Yami smirked at her temper.  “You really gonna take this out on me, Princess?  I know you’re not that weak; emotionally or any other way.”

Teris exhaled.  “Sorry.  I’m— It’s just...”

“You don’t need to explain.  I get it.  All I want is for you to look at me.”

She complied, head turning back to him.

Yami’s smiled grew.  “Now can we kiss and make up?”

He made her lean in and come to him, forcing himself to hold still and let her initiate.

Her hand moved to his chest, running up to his neck and tugging at him. As soon as her lips met his, Teris melted into him.  Yami gave a low throaty hum which quickly turned into a growl when his muscled trembled, barely able to grip her waist and pull her closer.

Teris broke the kiss far too soon for his liking.  But he saw how out of breath she was, and moved to her neck.  Her eyes fluttered closed, unable to to much else but tremble in a mixture of pleasure and fatigue.

Yami’s hand ran up her side and around her shoulder, holding her closer still.  His forearm bumped her wounded chest.

Teris winced.

Feeling a sudden jerk of tension in her, Yami pulled back.  “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Teris said, moving to kiss him again.

Yami pulled his head back.  Looking her over, he noticed the bit of white from her bandage that showed between her blouses buttons was tinted some with red.

Pointing, he told.  “That’s not nothing.”

He wanted to tell her to unbutton her blouse and show him.  Wanted to do it himself and see.  But Teris was even more careful about who saw her still healing wounds than he was.  The only person who had seen them since they had returned home was Gilly, who daily tended to them.

When Yami had refused to show Teris his, saying they were no different than the ones around her own wrists; Teris had barred him from being in the room while Gilly checked and changed her bandages.  In truth Yami had seen the wounds around her wrists and they weren’t half as bad as his.  Gilly had told him that his had cut to the bone in several places.  That was why he had be against letting Teris see.

Teris returned his scowl with one of her own.  Only unlike Yami, who’s eyes and ire were directed at the bloody bandage on her chest, her annoyance was directed at him.  She held an arm up to her chest, as if to shield it from sight.  Turning back away, she leaned back against him and changed the subject.

“It’s your birthday next month.”

“I am aware.”  Yami smirked.

“What you do want to do?”

Arms wrapped around her, Yami nuzzled her neck.  “This.”

“All day?”  She questioned, smiling.

Yami kissed her pulse point.  “Works for me.  No planned outings.  No gifts.”

“No? I thought you liked your day on the sea.”

“I did.  Still do.  And your gift means more to me than I can say.  But… Let me plan something.”

Teris arched an eyebrow.  “Dare I trust that?”

“Does it matter?  It’s my day.”  Yami thought about the kiss he had wanted for his birthday last year.  If Teris let him, he’d get way more than the single kiss he had hoped for back then.  Looking at her, he told.  “My birthdays were never much of an occasion.”

��Never? Not even before arriving here?”

“Even less back there.”  He said, unable to call it home since he had found a new, better home in her.

“That’s… sad.”  Teris said, thinking that the great deal made of her birthday’s might not have been for her but rather for Fyntch and Nathyn Silva to torment her.  For the two men to force her and Nozel together, while they planned on a future that would never come.  But even then, at least something was done to mark the day.

Yami shrugged.  “When you’re the seventh son, and the fourth or even fifth unwanted one at that, it’s not too hard to see why my parents never made a fuss.”  He saw her perk at the mention of being a seventh son and told.  “My grandmother came to the land of the Rising Sun from a place she called a land of Rain and Fog.  She said it was a dark place with little sun.  The days short and often dark with heavy cloud cover.  She once told me that she had been a sorceress there. That it was a place of earthly and other worldly magic.  She even showed me what had once been her staff.  It looked like a useless wooden walking stick to me.  Even more so when I asked her to do something fantastical with it and she told me she couldn’t. That there was so little magic in my native land that everyone thought there was none and most believed it didn’t even exist.  She said then that magic would always find a way and that it had done so in our family.  That she had married the youngest of seven brothers despite having been courted by the elder, more prosperous one.  That she had let fate decide if she was worthy of bringing seven sons of her own into the world.  My father hated her for calling him something special when he had never felt special.  Every time she visited he would yell and ask her if this was the grand, special life she had told him about.  A poor fisherman who didn’t even own the lean-to shack we lived in.  Cursed with seven sons of his own to clothe and feed.  He especially hated it when my grandmother told me that I was more special still.  He’d tell her to stop putting ideas in my head.  That if I did have a fate, it was to end up just like him, if not dead or in prison.  She only visited once a year.  Her eldest son and his wife looking after her up in the mountains where my father grew up.  She came to visit early the last time.  Before I went out and got caught up in that storm.  She pulled me aside and said that I had to know everything.  That she wouldn’t get a chance to tell me again.  At the time, I had thought she was talking about herself.  That she was sick and thought she would die before next years visit.”  Yami paused recalling his grandmother’s lined, weathered face; certain that she had somehow known what would happen to him not more than three weeks later.

“She said that I almost died the night I was born.  That she used the last of her magic to make my heart beat.  That it was the least she could do for the seventh son of a seventh son of a seventh son.  She said that I was the culmination of her life's work.  The way she had spoken making it sound as if she had lived much longer than the ninety some odd years she was.  She said that I was tied to the seventh form of magic.  That where she was from there were six kinds of magic.  Fire, earth, air, water, space, and time.  But that it was foretold that there would one day be a seventh kind.  Dark magic. She said I would one day see great magic and have my own unlocked, but I wasn’t to allow it to over take me least we all perish.  That my magic could be used for great good but also cause great destruction if I didn’t control it.  She told me that as the third seventh I held the fate of existence in my hand and it was up to me if I let it all continue or not.”

Yami shook his head and huffed.  “My father came in raging at her for filling my head with nonsense.  I thought her words nothing more than a tale to make me feel important.  As if I mattered.”

“You do.”  Teris said, firmly.  “Even without all this.  You matter. You matter to me.  To Julius.  To the Black Bulls...”

Yami kissed her temple.  “All I need is to matter to you, Ikigai. Nothing and no one else matters passed that.”

Next chapter snippet:

Yami looked about.  “You know I think Teris had the right idea after all.  I’ll find my own way to the viewing room.”

Fuegoleon watched him go.  Turning back to Nozel, his frown didn’t lessen. “You may have not deserved that for kissing her.  But you certainly deserve it for the poor choice of timing you had in kissing her.”

“Filthy foreigner.  I’m going to kill him.”  Nozel seethed, holding his arm to his side.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

[fanfictrashdump]

Queening a Pawn, 1

I am kind of Loki trash. I take pleasure in attempting to write some of the cheesiest/most cliched fanfiction around. Honestly, my policy is that if it makes me “awww” or giggle to myself, it goes in. So enjoy this WIP and let me know what you think!

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Loki x OC 

==

The air was still and silent, as it had been for the last several hours. The guards had not been around for a few hours to check on him– why would they? He was trapped in a gilded cage with little to no chance of escape. Not with those wretched manacles that stopped even the lightest whiff of his seidr to come alive. It was very early morning, if the light streaming in from the windows was to be believed– he didn't. Not that it mattered. Not that he was anything more than a sitting duck at the mercy of these annoying, useless mortals and his buffoon of a brother. Briefly, he wondered if they were ever going to attempt to torture him for information. Maybe that would liven up his current situation. 

Bright, fool-hardy whistling echoed down the concrete halls and made his ears ring uncomfortably. The blessed, unmarred silence that seemed to be soaking up all of his self-pity was now gone, which meant that the hare-brained Midgardians would be back with questions. A single human appeared within the doorway, headphones in their ears, and hands laden with a box of what seemed to be colorful ornaments. 

Loki sighed, rolling his eyes much like a petulant child. "What are you, then? Psychic? Super-strength? Power to boil me from the inside? Therapist?"

The sudden noise seemed to startle the newcomer, and they placed the box on a nearby table before turning towards the source. Behind the cardboard box was a woman. Her chocolate brown hair was cropped short, though the messy fringe fell into her eyes as she moved. It made her look messy in a very purposeful manner, like she wanted to look approachable and kind, but also didn't want you to think she didn't put effort into her appearance. The green eyes turned his direction sparkled nearly as bright and excited as the grin perched on her lips as she pulled the buds from her ears and shoved them into her jeans pocket. Loki frowned. This was… different. 

"Sorry, didn't hear you. What was that, sir?" Her head tilted sideways like a curious pup at a weird noise, though twice as enthusiastic. 

"Are they sending children in to question me now? What, not enough ice-thawed super soldiers to do the job? And Stark? What of him? It's odd he hasn't come to gloat, yet." Loki scoffed, throwing himself into the only chair available in his cell, growing more impatient with every passing moment. 

The woman's face fell, if only slightly. "Oh. You don't know, do you?" Green orbs snapped up to her saddened expression, curious. "Mister Stark died with the Titan and Captain Rogers… well, you wouldn't recognize him if you saw him."

"Who are you, then?"

"I manage the Compound. I was just putting up the Christmas ornaments." She gestured over her shoulder at the box with the trinkets, as if it were an obvious response. 

Loki frowned further, trying to process the information as it was received. A moment later, he stared back, deadpan. "You realize this is a prison, yes?"

The woman's cheeks darkened as she fidgeted with her jumper sleeves. "To be honest, I couldn't really see over the box, so–"

He rolled his eyes, opting rather to pinch at the bridge of his nose with a groan. "Norns, I am surrounded by idiots. Why am I still here?"

"Well, Sam and Valkyrie have been trying to find your brother for the lon–"

"It was a rhetorical question!" He seethed, and the woman snapped her jaw shut at once. 

She awkwardly looked around the room before her eyes stopped on a holographic chess board that was sitting just outside the cell. Clearly, this was some of Tony's sense of humor showing through the AI he left behind, FRIDAY. He would have probably summoned up the board with a how about you think about what you've done, and if not, just play with yourself. She had encountered more than a fair share of these ghosts inside the code in her time, like the nervous Is that a trick question? whenever she asked the smart mirror in her apartment if she looked OK. 

There was a single knight in play on the white side of the board. "Are you a chess enthusiast?" There was no response. "Stalking the knight out first is a powerful move." This sentence was accompanied by a huff, but no verbal retort. "FRIDAY, favorite pawn forward." The second to last pawn zoomed gracefully into place a square further and settle there. She looked up at their captive demigod, sneer locked into his lips and eyes staring dead into the wall. She waited several minutes for a move, any move, but came up empty. 

"Lilah, there you are!" Sam strode into the prison floor, still clad in his black flightsuit and more than a little on edge. "FRIDAY, tell Valkyrie Lilah's fine." The AI acknowledged the command, immediately. "What are you– are you putting up Christmas ornaments in the prison deck?"

"Just checking in with our guest," she lied, smiling. 

Sam turned on his heel to face Loki's cell. A shiver ran past him as if simply gazing upon the Liesmith gave him the heebie jeebies. "How is he, then?"

Lilah shrugged, disinterestedly. "No worse than last time."

"No, not like last time. Last-time-Loki helped save the world and his whole realm from his psycho sister. This Loki just came off trying to enslave New York."

"Tomato, tomahto. Same dude, different day, Sam." With an amused smile, she turned the glaring superhero and nudged him out ahead of her. "Someone should be down with your dinner in a bit, OK?" She assured, as if that cleared up the rest of the questions brewing in Loki's head. 

Loki knew was out of sync with the time. He could feel it in the air and with every pulse of his veins. The agents who brought him into the basement gave him a barebones recollection of what had happened– how the Titan known as Thanos, how half the population died, how time had to be altered to change the course of history. Dangerous games played by children who didn't know any better. Once the Stone had been pulled from his timeline, he had jumped, as well. 

It took an impressively short amount of time to apprehend him, as they had the benefit of time to adapt to his wily nature. He had found it odd that he was not immediately chained and scrapped for every bit of information he could give, that they didn't bother monitoring him 24/7, that there seemed to be only a handful people employed in the facility. Midgard was different: older, wiser, a little jaded. It had lost many of its heroes in a short time, it seemed. The corner of his eye caught the subtle glow of the chess board, effectively interrupting his internal monologue. 

Lilah walked cautiously across the threshold of the prison floor. In her hands she balanced a tray with covered food and a large pitcher of sweet tea. Funnily enough, none of the staff found it a great opportunity to bring their prisoner his dinner, despite the fact that he had been doing nothing but bellyaching at the walls and pout for the week he had been there. That meant it was up to her to slow walk some food and drink over to the prison desk and hope she didn't spill. Lilah wasn't particularly clumsy, but she also never had the need to carry a tray full of food and drinks across a couple of floors before. 

"I don't know what you wanted to eat, so I made you a plate with some of everything. Then, I brought sweet tea and then remembered that almost no one outside of the South likes sweet tea, so I brought you some water, but you're free to have some tea if you can tolerate it," Lilah rambled, passing a plate through the hatch on the door along with a bottle of water and a glass of sweet iced tea. Though he tried to seem disinterested, the smell of food made Loki abandon his in-bed lounging and cautiously approach the cell door. He first took the glass of tea and took a tentative sip. His face screwed up unpleasantly a moment after. "Yeah, it's an acquired taste– like watered down cane molasses."

His face turned hard as he swallowed down a few gulps of water to wash out the taste. "Is your intent to poison me?"

"I don't know. Do Asgardians get diabetes?"

"What?"

"That's a no." Glancing over her shoulder, Lilah glanced at a chair by the empty sentry desk. "Mind if I join you?" She gestured the remaining plate on the tray. 

For a long moment, he did not reply, instead glaring into her as if his eyes could become lasers and explode her from the inside out (though they probably could if he tried hard enough). "If you wish." A satisfied grin perched itself on her lips as she placed the tray on the floor and jogged over to collect the chair. She carried it right to the cell's side and collected her tray before sinking into it cross-legged. 

Loki had not moved from his place in front of the food hatch, quietly watching the mortal woman dig into a plate of vegetables, chicken and rice as if it were the most exquisite of treats. The weight of his gaze pulled her attention, and she glanced upwards. "Eat. I don't want Thor griping about you getting thin. God knows he already has enough going on in his brain. If Valkyrie even finds him."

"You must be mistaken. The Valkyries are dead," Loki says, simply, an observation. 

Lilah stopped chewing, putting down her fork back on her plate, speared carrot and all. "I suppose they still are, for you."

"Where is my brother?" Lilah hesitated. "You also said earlier that I saved my people from my sister. I don't have a sister."

"Fuck, Thor. Where the hell are you when I need you?" She muttered to herself. "FRIDAY, can you pull up the records on Asgard and Hela, please?"

"Are you sure you want to show him this, Delilah?"

The woman rolled her eyes at the AI's sass. "Do you know where Thor is?"

"King Brunnhilde has yet to find him, as of ten minutes ago."

"You know the answer, then." The glass of the prison cell lit up with pictorials of Asgard. "Some time ago Odin Allfather disappeared." An image of Odin faded into the ether on the screen. "You, in true Loki fashion, had taken up the throne dressed as his clone. Thor found out and forced you both to find him. Odin died shortly after." The images of Thor, Loki and Odin faded and Hela was left in their wake. "His death caused the release of Hela, Odin's eldest child and death-bringer to all realms. You tried to fight her off, ended up on a trash planet called Sakaar." The images on the screen turned to the bright, metal and pastels of Sakaar, complete with Hulk and Thor fighting while Loki stood in a corner laughing. 

"On Sakaar you met Brunnhilde, the last Valkyrie. Thor, Banner, and Valkyrie escaped the planet to rescue Asgard. Surprisingly, so did you." The images of Loki graciously arriving in the giant cruiser ship with Korg and Miek flashed before them, and Loki could not but feel fascinated by this stranger who wore his face. The people of Asgard smiled and thanked him as he ushered them into the ship and jumped into the fray of battle below. "Eventually Hela was defeated and you fled with your people from Asgard. They've made a new colony in Iceland called New Asgard."

"They, not you?" He asked, perceptively, brow furrowed. "I did not survive the trip," he added, matter-of-factly. 

"Thanos happened," she quipped with a sigh. She leant a small smile to him knowing full well it was not to be returned. "You died protecting your people."

Loki seemed as surprised as anyone who heard the tale from Thor, afterwards. "I died a hero?"

Lilah now smiled in earnest. "It seems you are capable of amazing things when you want to. You rose to the challenge," she finished, watching the holographic Loki sink his dagger into an undead sentinel and toss another over his shoulder with dangerous precision. 

Despite himself, Loki smirked, staring somewhat proudly at the ferocious warrior hopping around the scene. He took his plate to the small desk in his cell and tucked into his meal, seemingly satisfied with her answers thus far. Lilah followed his lead, eating her dinner in silence before picking up the remainder of her dinnerware and preparing to leave Loki, once more. Before she did, she noticed the chess board hds moved. Smiling, she glanced shortly at Loki, who had taken up a book and was quite immersed in it, though she swore she saw him briefly gaze at her while she thought of her next play. With a quick jolt of her fingers, her bishop conquered his knight. She then swore she saw him frown. 

"By the way, you can ask FRIDAY for more books, access to the archives, or movies or something. You're not meant to be here to rot in your boredom." She gave a friendly wave. "Good night, Loki."

[alternativewinxcontinuity]

Episode: Sisterhood

Final Fantasy XV Chapter: 01 - Have Pryna, will travel Characters: Iris Amicitia, Crowe Altius, Pryna Plot: Pryna quits canon, Iris drives a stolen car, Crowe tries to do her job

While the waters settled, and the army stopped fighting, Pryna put a paw to her human, her girl, pressing Lunafreya's shoulder to try and wake her. Pryna knew it was a futile effort, and the knowledge left her feeling hollow.

She didn't want her human to be gone to the place Pryna could not follow, she didn't want to run in the world where her girl no longer drew breath.

The sound of soft paws through debris laden streets went unheard over the city's fading distress, until Umbra came close enough that she could feel his breath on her fur. Her brother nuzzled her, tried to get her to move, to finish their job.

But Pryna didn't want to, she didn't want to watch the Astrals' plan unfurl. She knew how it would play out, knew the cost of the Dawn.

Pryna looked away from Luna's body to stare woefully at Umbra. He understood what she wanted right away, and shuffled himself closer to say goodbye.

As the humans began to wander out of hiding, Umbra nuzzled his sister's empty form one last time, before trotting off to find his boy.

There were things he had to see to the end, then he could find the new timeline his sister had abandoned this one for.

Iris scowled as she twisted the wheel, turning the car onto a dirt road. It wasn't fair, she'd wanted to go with Gladdy and the others to Altissia, but her father had insisted the boys go alone.

'It isn't fair,' she fumed, her foot sinking further on the accelerator, racing across the worn earth faster than advisable. 'I never get to go on any of their road trips, even Prompto gets to go and he's-' Iris cut herself off, instantly ashamed. Prompto was a nice boy, if very awkward and untrained.

The young woman, still more of a girl, let out a growl as she shook her head, berating herself for her thoughts and actions. She took her foot from the pedal, letting the car decelerate on its own, before a flash of motion on the road had her slamming her foot on the brake.

The very expensive, very borrowed car slid for far too many metres before coming to a halt with a plume of dust blooming up behind her; Iris sat stock still, pale and shaking behind the steering wheel.

“Rarf!” A dog's head appeared, followed by its upper body as the canine stood, bracing its front paws on the car's hood.

“...Hey! I know you!” and she did, “Pryna?! Why are you here?” Iris tugged on the handbrake, settled the car into neutral and stepped out of the vehicle. Pryna dropped back to all fours as Iris made her way around the front of the car, the dog pranced backwards and away from the girl as she closed in.

Iris stopped.

Pryna stopped.

Iris stepped forwards.

Pryna stepped away.

“Do... do you need me to follow you?” Iris asked, uncertain. Pryna's bark seemed to be a 'yes' sort of bark. “Okay, show me where to go.” Pryna looked back at the car, then at Iris, then at the car again. Taking the hint, Iris slid back into the driver's seat, shifting back into gear as the dog took off at a run.

Iris had borrowed the car from the royal garage on an impulse, angry at not being allowed to go with Noct and the others. 'But maybe,' Iris thought as she followed Pryna, 'it wasn't an out of character impulse at all.'

Pryna lead her north to a scrap yard, where Iris had to leave the vehicle behind, winding her way through the junk on foot. In the distance she saw a van driving away. Pryna began digging into a pile of twisted metal, a few dozen flies swarming the mound. The canine gave a quite bark Iris took to mean 'this is what we're here for, come and help.'

Lifting the scrap away, Iris bit back a scream and she came face to pale face with a corpse. A familiar looking corpse. Clearing the debris from the body, Iris cringed at what was an obvious bullet wound in the stomach area, trying to figure out how she knew the dead woman.

But Pryna gave her no time, nosing at the secure pocket where Iris kept her special talisman, a gift from Noctis, from when the prince had been practising his magic. With an 'oh' of understanding, Iris pulled the phoenix feather from her pocket and pressed it against the dead woman's body.

Iris had only a second to register the body's warmth, before the woman jolted back to life screaming. Iris screamed in response, her body unmoving as she continued to press the feather against the woman's form, making sure all the magic was used up, just in case.

The woman took a wild, half-hearted swing as her surrounds came into focus.

“You're,” her words trailed off, “we've been betrayed!”

“What?!” Iris scrambled to help the woman stand.

The woman wavered but fixed Iris with an intense look, “my name is Crowe, I'm a Glaive, I was sent to fetch the Oracle, but I was shot... by a fellow Glaive, I have to get back to Insomnia, to warn the captain, we've been betrayed.”

Crowe doubled over, her face scrunched as a sharp stab of phantom pain lanced through her.

Iris clung to one of her arms to keep the Glaive upright.

“My car's just over there,” she turned the older woman in the direction of the vehicle. “Pryna!” Scanning the scrap yard, Iris's brow furrowed, “where'd she go?”

“Who?”

“Pryna.”

“...who?”

“She's a dog, or a divine messenger or... something, it's kind of unclear, but she was just here, she lead me to you.”

“Did she bring me back from the dead too?”

Iris grinned and shook her head, “nope, that was all me, well, not all me, I had a phoenix feather from prince Noctis, it brought you back. But I suppose, I don't think you've been dead for very long, otherwise it wouldn't have worked.”

“...great...” Crowe shuddered, letting Iris help her through the junk piles and over to the car. “Nice ride.”

“Thanks, it belongs to the royal family.” Crowe raised an eyebrow, then winced as Iris helped her into the passenger seat, “hold on, let me see if there's any potions.”

As the younger female checked the medical kit in the boot for potions, Crowe asked “what are you doing out here with a car belonging to the royal family?”

“Oh, right, I guess I should introduce myself,” Iris said, “I'm Iris Amicitia, my dad is the Shield of the King. I... may have borrowed Ekleípō without asking, and run away for a few hours...” Iris admitted before letting out an 'aha' as she found the only potion in the supplies. She closed the trunk with a thump, jumped the door into the driver's seat and handed Crowe the bottle of magically saturated energy drink. “Here, this should help, although from what I understand, you shouldn't be feeling any pain from your death at all.”

“Is that an energy drink?”

“It's magically enhanced with healing magic, courtesy of the prince. He made a whole bunch when he was practising.” Iris pulled the car around, and drove as fast as she dared, trying to remember which way she'd come.

In the passenger seat, Crowe quietly sipped the potion, too worried about the traitorous Glaives in Insomnia, to bother with the way the girl had spoken so casually about such a difficult branch of magic.

They were only a few hours from Insomnia – how had Iris driven so far without realising? - which wasn't much by car.

Iris and Crowe shared horrified looks when they ran out of fuel, the car spluttered to a stop where Iris managed to steer it to the roadside.

“Oh come on!” She smacked her hands on the wheel, frustrated that she hadn't kept an eye on the gauges.

“I have a bar!” beside her, Crowe was holding both of their phones, and looking much better than she had earlier. Colour had returned to her face, and pain had stopped lancing through her at every breath.

“That's great, but will it be enough to get a clear line?” Iris asked, unsure how well the signal would carry with such low reception. She'd never been out into areas with such poor mobile phone coverage before, even when camping with her father and brother.

“No, we might get through, but it'll be largely static, I can try sending a text to Libertus and Nyx, but we'll need at least another bar to get clear conversation.” Crowe typed out a simple 'betrayed' and hit send, watching the phone attempting to send on such a weak signal. Iris watched the Glaive, as the woman seemed to will the text to make it through.

The phone dinged.

“Yes!” Crowe's whole body relaxed a fraction.

Iris smiled, then frowned, “why not send a bigger message, tell them who shot you?”

“The less data the phone has to send, the better its chances of getting the message through. I can try sending more information, but for now,” Crowe looked up at the darkening sky and winced, “we'd be better getting ourselves to a Haven or a settlement, and trying to find better reception in the morning.”

A barked echoed through the air, drawing their attention far off the road. A few dozen metres away sat Pryna, clearly waiting. The women shared a look and shrugged, exiting the vehicle.

“Let me grab the blankets from the boot,” Iris said before Crowe could go too far.

“Anything else in there that might help?”

“Uhm... Medical kit, a few bottles of water, protein bars and... aha! Matches!”

“Damn, that's lucky.” Crowe reached out to take one of the blankets, opening, folding and twisting it into makeshift sack for the water and food.

“All the cars have this sort of stuff, dad always said it was 'in case of emergency,' but I never really thought about it. Guess it is lucky.” Pocketing the keys, Iris gave the Ekleípō a final glance, mentally praying the car would still be there, and in one piece, come morning.

As the duo followed Pryna along, going at a light jog, Iris spotted something against the odd colour of the dusk sky. “Is that smoke?”

“Yep, Haven smoke, looks like we ran out of fuel in the right place.”

“Where are we anyway?” Iris asked, wincing when Crowe gave her a look of disbelief, “I wasn't... exactly paying attention to where I was going earlier.”

“Then how do you know you were going in the right direction back to Insomnia?” Crowe did a thing with her eyebrows that made Iris feel very judged.

“I was going in a sort of... general reverse direction to the one I came from?”

“Right,” Crowe shook her head, bemused by the girl's abashed tone. “Well, good news is we're still in Leide-”

“Oh yay,” Iris says happily.

“- in the Three Valleys area, so this,” Crowe says as she pointed to the Haven the duo have just reached, “should be Merrioth, if I remember my maps correctly.”

“Merrioth,” Iris repeats, testing the name, “so, are there any rest stops or service stations on those maps you might remember?”

“Hammerhead, it should be just the other side of this,” Crowe waved at the rocky mound beside the Haven, “and a hour or two at an easy pace. We should head out as soon as the demons disappear though, it'll help us avoid the heat, and we're kind of in a hurry.”

Iris paused, her eyes sliding down and away from Crowe.

“What's wrong?” Crowe reached out for her.

“Would you be able to make it to Hammerhead tonight if I weren't here to slow you down?”

Crowe didn't answer right away, she knew what this is, she's seen sudden self doubt before.

“I'd still be dead in a scrapheap if you weren't here,” Crowe tilted Iris's face back to face her own, “I was dead a short while ago, I have my dagger and my magic, but I'm not stupid enough to think I could take on an Iron Giant if one decides to show up, never mind the risk of putting my foot in a shallow dip only for it to be an actual hole, hiding in the dark.”

Crowe thought she should maybe hug the uncertain young woman before her.

She helped Iris set up their blankets instead.

“If you need to pee you'd better do it soon, we're just about out of time.” In the distance a faint groan of an emerging demon echoed through the Three Valleys area.

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 38)

Description: Estela and Aleister return to Northbridge to identify their father’s body and make an unsettling discovery.

Content Warning: Talk of suicide this chapter.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @mysteli @whatmcsaid @feartheendlesssummer @tigerbryn11

Chapter 38: Right Hand

Alodia

I can't believe it.

That seems to be the general sentiment on the morning of my twenty-eighth birthday, as the news filters through our ranks. Everett Rourke is dead. They found him hanging in his room. They're calling it an “apparent suicide,” which I suppose makes sense. Now Estela and Aleister have to return to Northbridge to identify the body within 48 hours.

“...I don't believe it,” Estela growls. I look up from the glass of orange juice I'm nursing. Estela is seated across from me at the kitchen table. Her chair is pushed out a good distance from the table, and her lithe back is flat, even as she rests her chin on her fist on top of the smooth mahogany table. She glares down at the table, eyes narrow as if the fate of the world hinges on her memorizing every detail of the grain.

“I don't either,” Lila murmurs, staring out the window. “It doesn't make sense. Not now. Not now that he had hope. Not now that he believed he had the chance to...reclaim what he'd lost.”

“...Do you think he could really do it?” Quinn asks. “Restart Project Janus?”

“Not if he's dead,” Lila replies flatly. “He can't really do anything if he's dead.”

“There are ways of faking one's death,” Estela says.

“But to fake a suicide by hanging?” Grace ventures gently. “How exactly would he pull that off?”

“I don't know,” Estela admits. “But I can't put anything past him. Lila is right. It doesn't make sense that he would decide to kill himself now. Not when his white whale is back where he could potentially reach her.” She looks at me as she says this, and I snort slightly as I lift my juice off the table.

“You know, in my present condition, I could take that as an insult,” I quip without any genuine mirth.

“Suicide doesn't always make sense,” Aleister murmurs. He sighs heavily. “In any case, I requested an autopsy, so if Father is faking his death somehow, I'm sure they will figure it out soon enough. ...Or they'll kill him in an effort to determine what killed him.”

Over his shoulder, I see Jake appear in the kitchen entryway. He steps inside to lean against the wall, hands in his pockets.

“Bags are all loaded in the car, and there's a plane fueled and ready for us on the tarmac at SNA. Should be about a five-hour flight. Maybe less.”

“You're taking my car and Quinn's?” I ask. The morning has been so confused and harried that I'm not sure I have the plans straight in my head.

“Right. Raj and Lila'll drive Quinn's car back to Northbridge, and Mike and I'll drive yours back here when we get back to California tomorrow morning. ...You'll be okay overnight, right?”

“I'll be fine. Not like I'll be alone.”

“Yeah, I know. But you know I worry.”

“Varyyn and I will look after her,” Diego promises. I roll my eyes.

“Jeez, you'd think I was a baby instead of pregnant with one.”

“Z and I can stick around until you guys get back, too,” Craig offers.

“That really isn't necessary,” I assure him.

“Do you want us to stick around?” Zahra asks pointedly, sipping on her coffee.

“Of course I do.”

“Well then, we're staying. You got sweet digs here, Alodia. Of course we're gonna jump at the chance to hang around here awhile longer.”

“Well, I suppose I can't argue with that logic.”

“We ought to get going, then,” Jake sighs. “California traffic. It's gonna be shit even on New Year's Day. Where are Sean and Michelle?”

“Right here,” Sean says, coming up behind him.

“Oh, you guys are going with them?” I try not to sound too disappointed.

“We had to leave today anyway,” Michelle says apologetically. “I have to get back to work.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sean adds. “As long as the opportunity is here, might as well avoid going through security.”

I sigh, standing up slowly. “Okay, but everyone who's leaving needs to hug me right now, or you're not allowed out the door.”

Goodbyes obviously take awhile. It's lucky the plane won't leave without them. But, eventually, Diego manages to pry me off our friends and guide me back to the kitchen table. I sit down reluctantly. The weight of their absence makes the house feel very suddenly larger and emptier, like mild air that suddenly feels uncomfortably cold when you've been covered by a blanket. I sigh.

“I suppose I should start cleaning up,” I murmur.

“You mean Varyyn and I should start cleaning up,” Diego corrects me. I roll my eyes.

“Goddsake, Diego, I'm pregnant. Not an invalid.”

“Do you honestly feel up to bending down and picking up and carrying dishes and trash back and forth?”

“Well...honestly, no.”

“There you go.” Diego wraps his arms around me from the side and kisses my cheek. “Finish your breakfast, Allie. We'll clean up.”

“Let me help,” Craig says, pushing out his chair and standing up. Without waiting for a reply, he follows Diego and Varryn toward the front room, leaving me alone in the kitchen with Zahra. For a long moment, she sits absolutely still, long enough that I start to feel a little weirded out. But before I can ask her whether everything's okay, she brings her coffee mug to her lips and tips her head back to down the rest in two big gulps before bringing her hand down with a satisfied exhale.

“I needed that,” she grunts under her breath. Abruptly, she looks up and meets my eyes. “Alodia, we should move somewhere private. There's something I have to tell you.”

I immediately feel my stomach knotting with dread. “That...sounds serious.”

“It is serious. I don't know if it's bad, but it is serious. I brought you something.” I am not sure what her words up to this point have led me to expect, but I do know that I never could have predicted the next words out of her mouth. “...It's about your mom.”

* * *

I remember going to the pediatrician as a kid and poking through the plastic milkcrate full of toys in an attempt to distract myself from my anxiety. I have a clear memory of a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle that stayed in that milkcrate until my last pediatric visit. I always tried to put it together before the receptionist called my name. Of course, I never succeeded. There was never enough time, someone had always taken it apart and cleaned it up by the time I left, and I'm pretty sure some of the pieces had gone missing over the years anyway.

I can still picture the beautiful image printed on the box: shimmering zodiac signs, accompanied by exquisitely drawn animals, people, and objects to represent them, all splayed out on a starscape backdrop. I can still remember kneeling on the worn carpet in the waiting room, pawing through the pile of cardboard pieces and slowly watching the image form in front of me as I pressed each piece into place. I remember the frustration and sense of loss as I was guided back into the exam room with the puzzle never more than half-completed, with partially assembled chunks missing connecting pieces.

Sitting in my room, looking at the information Zahra has presented me on my mother, I feel like I am looking at that half-completed puzzle. Except this time, there isn't a box cover with a complete image to guide me. I have to admit, I have no idea what to make of all of this. Everything that Zahra knows—and Grace, Aleister, Estela, and Craig, apparently—about the woman who gave birth to me is laid out in front of me, and I don't know what to make of any of it. Perhaps what baffles me the most is that the digital image of me, supposedly painted while I was in utero, doesn't baffle me more. It's actually less of a concern to me than the rest of it.

“So...she was studying something to do with time travel?”

“That's what it looks like. What exactly she was trying to do, I can't tell yet. But I'll keep looking into it if you want me to.”

“Yeah...I mean...if you have the time, it might be important to know some of this stuff...”

Zahra frowns thoughtfully at me. “...Your aunt didn't talk about your mom much, did she?”

“No,” I admit. “Not really. I mean, she came up ocassionally. So did my father. Or...at least...the man Vaanu was pretending to be came up sometimes. But I really only got either of them in bits and pieces ...I don't know if Aunt Molly ever really dealt with her grief. She would start to tell stories, and sometimes she got a decent ways into them, but at some point, she always just stopped herself and shut down.”

“Did you even know your mom's maiden name? I mean, did it ever occur to you that she had the same maiden name as the Vaanti Bride? Even just as a coincidence?”

“Officially, when we met Flora Sullivan, I had never had a human mother, remember? Technically, that was before I was retconned into existence. And once I was retconned into existence, any knowledge of my mom and aunt's maiden name was filed in the same memory bank as the fact that I wasn't born on U.S. soil. …Reading it right now was the first time I realized that I had known it all along.”

“Goddamn, your existence is crazy sometimes.”

“You're preaching to the choir,” I sigh ruefully. “...Thank you for showing this to me. I think I should try to ask Aunt Molly for more details on my mom. ...I won't show her the picture, though. Not unless I mean to tell her everything.”

Zahra frowns. “...Is she someone you could trust not to have you committed if you tell her you can remember an alternate timeline where you didn't exist?”

“To be perfectly honest...I don't know. Which is why I'm not going to tell her yet. Maybe not ever. ...But I do want to hear what else she has to say about my mom. If anything.”

“I gotta say, you're taking all this in stride.”

I shrug. “Well, some of it does concern me a little. But my mother did marry an alien. An alien who knew he was going to father a child who would grow up to be me. I don't know if he actually loved my mother, or if there was another reason he picked her. But it would kinda surprise me if there wasn't something special about her. Like being a descendant of Flora Sullivan. Or at least a descendant of one of her relatives.” I sigh. “...Honestly...if I could only have one question about my parents answered for me, it would be whether my father actually loved my mother. ...But right now, any answer I got would probably be overshadowed by the fact that I just heard Everett Rourke is dead.”

“Right. That bombshell.”

I look up and meet her eyes. “...Do you believe it? Do you believe he's really gone?”

“No way in hell.” The complete lack of hesitation startles me.

“So you don't believe it?”

“Not for a second. Not until I see the body with my own eyes. And possibly not even then.”

“Why not?”

Zahra leans back on the unmade bed, propping herself up on the pillows and draping her arms over the headboard behind her. She locks eyes with me, her gaze penetrating.

“You remember when I faked my death on the island?”

“And scared the crap out of everyone? I remember.”

“You remember why I said I did it?”

“...Because they couldn't kill you if they thought you were already dead.” An icy knot is settling in the pit of my stomach. River must sense my anxiety, because she's doing somersaults in my womb. Zahra nods grimly.

“It's not that complicated a concept. If Rourke means to try some shit, it'll be a lot easier if he's free. Since he was given a life sentence with no possibility of parole, the only way to escape is to be dead. There won't be a manhunt for a man everyone believes is dead.”

“Maybe, but...even if the concept is simple, the execution wouldn't be. He wasn't blown up or anything. They found him hanging. How could he fake that? Especially alone?”

“I don't trust that he was acting alone.”

“Even so, he couldn't just build a dummy corpse, hang it, and expect it to fool anyone. They'd figure it out well before autopsy.”

Zahra's eyes narrow just slightly. “...Who're you trying to convince here, Alodia? Me or yourself? ...'Cause I don't think you believe it, either.”

“Do I believe my very own Captain Ahab has taken himself out of the picture? Of course not. Sure, my head is telling me there's no way he could fake his own death by hanging. There's no way he could set up a body that would pass inspection, not with autopsies and identification and dental records and DNA tests. ...But my gut is screaming at me that he's not gone. He's not gone, but the world is going to believe he is, and he's going to come for me. He's going to come for me and my baby...”

I'm starting to panic. I know I am. But I can't quite fight it off until Zahra springs off the pillows and alights at my side to put a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, hey. It's okay. No one's gonna let him get anywhere near you. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know. I also know that the twelve of us have faced him and Arachnid before, and we did it when the whole world was dead and we didn't have any backup. But it's really hard not to feel a lot more vulnerable now that I don't have my link to the Endless and the Island's Heart and while I do have a helpless little person inside me. Even just physically, I am way more vulnerable than I was on the Island.”

“Are you though?”

“...What do you mean?”

“The Endless said that the powers passed on by the Prism Crystal are your birthright, too. That you might have powers that haven't manifested yet. Unless you destroyed them, you also have the Andromeda idol, the Endless' spacesuit, and the Andromeda armor.” She pauses, frowning. “You do still have them, right?”

“Yeah. They're in a trunk in the poolhouse.”

“Okay. So the odds seem pretty strong to me that you aren't actually powerless.”

Anything I might have responded with is cut off with a gasp as River gives me a particularly sharp kick.

“God Almighty, this child is fiesty!”

“Takes after her parents,” Zahra quips. “Good.”

“I hope that if I do have some untapped superpowers, they're enough to keep this kid from kicking through my uterus.” I lie down on the bed, stroking my belly. “Come on, sweetheart. Calm down for Ma-mama...” My words abruptly dissolve into a yawn. Now that I'm lying down, the exhausted fog that has hovered over my head since I got up is seeping fully into my brain. I feel like my memory-foam mattress is ready to swallow me whole. I hear Zahra snort.

“Falling asleep on me, Chandler? Not cool.”

“Oh, lay off. I'm too pregnant to function on less than five hours of sleep, and coffee isn't an option.”

“Eugh. Okay, fair enough. I'll let your caffeine-deprived ass rest then. I'll just go see if the guys need any help cleaning up.”

I think I respond appropriately, but sleep is already taking hold, turning my thoughts to mush.

… Vanuu's face hovers above me. He is not quite in human form, but he is also not the faceless apparition that I met on the island. He is frowning.

“Child,” he says, “where is your right hand?”

I am lying on my back, I realize. I strain to lift my head, puzzled by his question. I look down at my body, and find it clad in red. Oh...that explains it. He is asking the Endless. I let my head drop back.

“I lost it.” I roll my head to the right to assess the damage. My right arm ends in a ragged stump below my elbow, but there is no blood. No pain. In fact, I can still feel my severed limb. Only it's...cold. Too cold. And it won't move.

“...How?”

I roll my head back to look up at my father. “I...don't remember...”

He sighs. “You will, my child. In time. Just look for now. Look.”

I do as he tells me, turning my head to the right again, but the effort is starting to hurt. I raise my right hand, now a skeletal metal claw. I bring it in front of my face to examine the new appendage. A small flame flickers to life above my palm. I don't question it when it turns back to flesh and blood right before my eyes. I only start to feel alarmed when the heat of the flame starts to turn the flesh of my palm red. Before I can quite register what is happening, it has already begun to burn a hole through the center of my hand. The pain is unbearable, but I have no voice to scream.

I whip my gaze back to my father, to plead for help, but he's gone. Rourke is in his place, leering down at me. He brings his right hand down to press the palm flat against my swollen belly.

“Strong...” he murmurs gleefully. “She is strong.”

A pair of hands close around mine, and the pain seems to ease. Estela is holding my hand, kneeling beside me with Aleister at her shoulder. She seems to be examining my wound. Her expression is stoically grim, but I can see fear in her eyes.

“Aleister. Look.”

Aleister's eyes widen. He can't hide his fear like she can. “...So it's true.”

Estela nods. “Just as the Endless warned us.”

Through Estela's tender grip, I can see that my hand has begun to bleed. It trickles from the front and the back of my hand like stigmata, pooling between Estela's palms, but she doesn't seem to notice.

“...Estela...” I croak weakly. “Aleister...” Aleister puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Don't worry, Alodia. We will protect you.”

Rourke has a knife in his left hand now. He holds out his right hand in front of him, raises the blade, and takes aim. As he drives the blade through his hand, he doesn't flinch, but I feel the pain as if his hand were mine, and I hear myself scream.

“Alodia!” Jake is beside me now, clutching my hand and desperately stroking my hair. His eyes are wild with fear, shimmering with tears. “Stay with me, Princess. Please...please don't leave me...”

I want to tell him I'm here. I want to tell him I'm all right. But I can't. The searing pain from my hand is spreading up my arm in waves, to my shoulder, flooding into my chest and my midsection. The smell of blood hits my nose in a sickeningly thick cloud. Rourke smiles viciously, raising his right hand to show me the dark hole that goes straight through.

“Do you remember, Andromeda, the truth of the Hydra?” He approaches me, and the pain intestifies. “...You know that we will meet again.”

I hear myself screaming, but the pain is fading. So is my voice. I can't hear Jake's voice anymore, I can't feel the pressure of his hand on mine. Oppressive heat surrounds me as I realize I am back at Hartfeld as it was the day we stepped through the Lernaean Gate.

“Allie!” Diego's voice cracks like a whip through the lava-scorched landscape.

“...Right hand...?” Vaanu's voice comes through crackling static. “...Right hand...”

“Allie! Allie!” …

… “Allie?”

There's a hand on my shoulder. I feel my heart spasm with alarm. My breath catches in my throat, my eyes flying open in a panic before I realize that it's Diego beside me. He pulls his hand back,d showing his palms with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.” His smile slips a little. “Are you okay? I came in to check on you and you were kind of...talking in your sleep.”

“What was I saying?”

“Um...I don't know. Couldn't really make out individual words.”

“I was dreaming...” I trail off as I ease myself upright, frowning. “...I need to talk to Estela and Aleister.”

Aleister

Naturally, Raj made sure we had a packed lunch for our flight back to Northbridge. Nothing fancy, at least not by his standards, just grilled sandwiches and an assortment of hand-made snacks to nibble on. But the effort is always appreciated. About two hours into the flight, after our collective efforts to calm my fussy son have finally born fruit, we lay the tables in the cabin and fetch ourselves drinks from the refridgerator. No one has said much in all this time, beyond what is polite and prefunctory. I think we are all rather in our own heads at the moment. But I have also been watching my sister, and what I see has me a bit concerned. Estela is not a woman prone to tears, or indeed any outward displays of emotion, but on and off, I have noticed her eyes glimmering. She has spent the better portion of these past two hours lying curled up with her head in Quinn's lap, just letting her girlfriend stroke her hair, looking for all the world like a forlorn puppy. Not something I am used to seeing from the San Trobidian rebel. Now that we are sitting at our tables, she is clearly struggling to eat, ocassionally placing a bite or two on her tongue, but very little has actually left the plate in front of her.

“Are you all right, Estela?” I finally can't help but ask.

Estela sighs, picking at a hangnail on her index finger. “Should I be? Considering my father just died?”

“I don't think there is a 'should' in this situation,” Quinn says gently. “You feel how you feel. It's okay.”

“I never cared about knowing who my father was. By the time I learned who he was, I hated him more than anyone else living. ...A part of me thinks I ought to be celebrating...”

Murphy, who had been dozing on the couch, seems to pick up on the general atmosphere. He rises and stretches before padding over to hop up on Estela's lap. She sighs, stroking his fur gently. Beside me, Grace puts a hand on my shoulder.

“How about you, sweetie? How are you holding up?”

“Right now? I am...fine. I do not know if it has entirely sunk in yet. But perhaps it has. Either way, the man is dead. Just a shell. And the world is better for it.”

“I would have expected your feelings to be more mixed than mine,” Estela remarks. I shrug.

“I was raised by the man...if you can call it that. The time was that I craved his affection. One could even say that I loved him, in that dutiful way a child always loves their parents. ...But any lingering love I had for him died back on the island. I won't say I am glad he is dead, but I am not sorry, either.”

“...I'm not sorry, either. Not really. ...But I guess I am...sad. I feel that this whole situation is just sad. New Year's Day, and my half-brother and I are going to identify the body of our father, who died in prison.”

“Yeah,” Sean sighs. “I think 'sad' describes that pretty accurately.”

On the table beside me, my phone trills with an incoming call. I glance at it, frowning when I see the name on the screen.

“It's Alodia.” I am immediately concerned that she may be trying to reach her husband. I look around at my companions and I know that the same thought has occurred to them. I thumb on the call. “Alodia? Are you all right?”

“Oh, Aleister. I wasn't actually expecting you to answer. I didn't think you'd have landed already.”

“We haven't. The ban on mobile phones during air travel has been rapidly dying out in the last few years. ...Are you trying to reach the pilot?”

“No. You're actually the one I wanted to reach. You and Estela. There's something I need you to do for me when you see the body.”

“...Hold on a moment. Let me put you on the speaker.” I tap the speaker and replace the phone on the table. “All right, say that again?”

“I took a little nap just now, and I had a weird dream that I'm not really inclined to ignore. When you see Rourke's body, I need you to check his right hand.”

“...Check it for what?” Estela asks.

“Honestly, I don't know. I'm hoping you will know when you see it.”

We are all silent for a moment. Michelle is the one who finally breaks the silence.

“It will be up to Aleister and Estela to actually check Rourke's right hand and recognize whatever it is they're supposed to be looking for. But if my opinion means anything, I don't think Alodia's instincts should ever be ignored when it comes to anything involving Rourke, La Huerta, the Vaanti, or Prism energy.”

“I would go so far as to say that is an incomplete list,” I agree. “There is nothing to be lost by looking at Father's right hand, and possibly there is something to be gained.”

I don't tell Alodia that her request has left me with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Until now, any doubts I had about my father's demise could have easily been dismissed as the denial stage of grief. Or the mind's unwillingness to let go of wariness after the fight is over. But now my doubts are growing. Now I am starting to wonder if my father is truly dead.

* * *

Grace, Quinn, Estela, and I part ways with Sean, Michelle, Jake, and Mike at the airport. Three Rourke International cars are waiting to take us to our various destinations. Mike and Jake to a hotel to rest up for the flight home in the morning, Sean and Michelle to their apartment, and the rest of us to the morgue. Sean and Michelle agree to watch Reginald for us until we're finished, for which I am grateful. He may be just shy of a year old and unlikely to remember any of this, but it still feels wrong to bring him along to identify the body of his criminal grandfather. Not that I imagine they would allow him in the room with the body anyway, but my point stands.

At the Northbridge city morgue, Grace and Quinn are shown to a plain, but surprisingly pleasant-looking waiting room while the morgue attendant leads me into the back with Estela to the temperature-controlled area where the bodies are kept.

“I am sorry for your loss,” the attendant says solemnly. He is a young man, a little bit awkward-looking, with rather large ears, glasses, a chin shadowed with stubble, and a narrow head capped with sandy-brown fuzz. But his manner is pleasant and professional.

“I imagine you say that a lot,” Estela mutters, echoing my thoughts.

“It comes with the territory,” he concedes ruefully. “But it's always true.”

“We're not exactly...in mourning,” Estela answers flatly.

“We're here out of filial obligation,” I add. “I suspect you know enough of who our father is to guess why we say that.”

“It's not my place to pass judgment on familial relationships. Just to make sure bodies get to the right people. ...Speaking of which, whatever your feelings on your father, it might be shocking to see his body.” His professional composure cracks just a little. “...In fact...we generally only ask family members to look at photographs...I know you have asked to physically see his body, but...” Estela and I exchange a glance, and the attendant trails off.

“It is necessary that we view his remains,” I say simply.

The attendant doesn't question any further. When we reach the coolers, he unlocks the correct cabinet and draws out the shrouded corpse. He warns us about what we will see, what marks his death by strangulation have left on him. When we both nod our understanding, he slowly draws back the sheet.

I must admit, I have to close my eyes, just for a moment. I understand the clinical process by which strangulation kills, and I have some prior understanding of how that process affects the appearance of the victim. But to see my father's face so distorted and discolored... I glance at my sister, who remains as solid and stoic as I have ever seen her.

“I would like to see his hands,” she declares. The attendant raises an eyebrow.

“His hands?”

“Yes. Show me his hands.”

“It is a custom from her homeland,” I explain when the attendant seems to hesitate. “Please be respectful of it.”

Estela shoots me a glare behind the attendant's back. I shrug helplessly and she rolls her eyes, muttering something in Spanish that sounds like an insult. Nevertheless, the attendant allows her to examine our father's hands, on the condition that she wear gloves. Estela doesn't waste time. She pulls on the vinyl exam gloves and removes our father's right hand from under the sheet. I shift awkwardly as she looks it over, wondering if I should help her find whatever it is we're supposed to be looking for. But then her eyes widen, and I realize she's found it. She looks up at the attendant, her dark eyes narrow.

“This is not our father.”

Naturally, the attendant looks shocked by the assertion. I feel rather startled myself. I know it is difficult to believe that our father could actually die, but that Estela should deny what is right in front of  her face...

“...Estela...what...?”

My sister pins me with her penetrating gaze. “The last time we saw our father alive, he had a bandage on his right hand. He told us he had been stabbed in the palm with a pencil. Do you remember?”

“Yes. I remember.”

“He told us that the mark left by the graphite would last years. Decades. The rest of his life.”

The truth is creeping over me as I slowly realize what she is getting at. “...It's true. A graphite mark just under the skin can last decades at least.”

She lifts our father's right hand to show me the smooth, unmarked palm. “...Then where is it?”

[chocolatequeennk]

To Bring Them Home, 5/6

Losing Rose only a month after they bonded hurt more than the Doctor could have imagined. Then he discovered he’d lost more than he’d realised, and he was determined to bring them home–Rose and their unborn baby. But how could he do that, without two universes collapsing?

Ten x Rose, pregnancy fic

The Tenth Doctor gets through the Void with help from the Ninth Doctor, and the family is reunited at last

This story is part of The Course of True Love, following With This Ring.

This was written for the Doomsday prompts on @doctorroseprompts​, and the "helping hand” prompt on @legendslikestardust​

Betaed by @lastbluetardis​ and @pellaaearien​

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

The Doctor’s hands were shaking with excitement as he knotted his tie. As soon as the possibility of seeking help from his past self had occurred to him, timelines had shifted. There were still variables, nothing was set in stone… but that decision had opened up the possibility of bringing Rose home.

He peered in the mirror and fixed his hair so it would stick up just like Rose liked it. If this worked, he would see her again before the day was over. Once he was satisfied with the overall effect, he shrugged into his brown suit jacket, only taking time to do one button before darting out of the room.

He laughed as he spun in circles around the TARDIS console. Finding himself would actually be the simplest part of the whole day—he’d known exactly when to go as soon as the idea had struck him. Rose had spent a weekend at home for a cousin’s wedding, and he, grumpy git that he was, had resisted all her attempts to be her date for the weekend. Instead, he’d gone to Enesta, a planet with the perfect atmosphere for TARDIS maintenance.

The TARDIS flew faster and more smoothly than she’d done in years, and the Doctor laughed again. “We’re going to bring them home, old girl,” he crowed, stretching across the console and patting the time rotor. The lights flashed in response, and then they landed.

Inside a different TARDIS, a different Doctor’s ears pricked. The sound was muffled, coming through the closed doors, but he would have sworn…

The TARDIS doors swung open, and a pretty boy in pinstripes and the coat Janis Joplin had given him burst into the ship. He immediately raced for the console and started spinning around, adjusting the controls without even saying hello.

“Oi!” the Doctor said. “My TARDIS, if you don’t mind—have you lost your manners as well your fashion sense?”

The other man didn’t pause, but he did look up at him, and the Doctor took a step back when he saw the barely contained grief in his brown eyes. “Rude and not ginger,” he said, his lips twisted in a miserable half smile.

The TARDIS chimed, and the other Doctor sighed and pulled his hands away from the console. “Right, we don’t have time for the usual insults about wardrobe and who’s more clever. I need your help to rescue Rose.”

Every snarky comment the Doctor had prepared evaporated in an instant. “What happened?” he barked.  

The older Doctor leaned heavily on the console. “She’s gone. Trapped in a parallel universe.” His shoulders heaved as he took a shuddering breath. “Pregnant with our child.”

The Doctor shoved his shock aside. His older self was right—they didn’t have time for bickering and debating. Telepathic contact was vital for a developing Gallifreyan mind. Without it, the foetus’ telepathy would turn inward, leaving them handicapped for the rest of their life.

Even if Rose had somehow been able to share the bond he could now sense in the other Doctor’s mind, she was still human. There was no way she could offer their baby the support their growing mind needed.

“Right,” he said, shoving the other Doctor away from the console. “I’ll take care of things here. You get back into your TARDIS and get ready to go through the Void as soon as the wormhole opens.”

The older Doctor smiled, and some of the tension around his eyes eased. “I’ve already set the exit vector for the correct parallel universe,” he said, pointing to the navigation panel.

“Good. Now get out of here, and bring them home.”  

oOoOoOoOo

For once, Rose woke up without her alarm clock, and with a smile on her face. She tried to remember her dream, to figure out why she was so happy today, but she couldn’t pin the feeling down to anything more than a general sense that something good was going to happen today.

In the car on the way to Torchwood, the baby started turning somersaults. Rose leaned against the back seat as the driver took them into London, and rested a hand on her six-months-pregnant belly.

Immediately, the baby’s mind clamoured against her own, and suddenly Rose was buzzing with anticipation. Something was coming. She could feel it as strongly as she had at Canary Wharf before she’d been trapped here, only this time, the feeling was light and happy instead of heavy and foreboding.

Rose frowned; the Doctor had told her she was picking up on his own time senses, but he was still on the other side of the Void. She didn’t know much about Gallifreyan gestation, but she doubted the baby’s senses had developed enough to detect changes in the timelines.

Which meant the time senses were her own. “I see everything. All that is, all that was, all that ever could be.” She nodded and let out a slow breath. If Bad Wolf had changed her enough to give her time senses, it would also explain how she’d gotten pregnant when the Doctor told her it would be impossible.

Rose didn’t know how to read timelines, but in her mind, a major positive shift in her future could mean only one thing: the Doctor was coming. She tried not to get her hopes up, but by midmorning, the feeling was too strong to ignore. She cancelled the rest of her meetings for the day, then went through all her active files and marked them with potential replacements. Her desk was clear by lunch, and after a quick call to Pete, she left Torchwood for what she hoped would be the last time.

oOoOoOoOo

Back in his own TARDIS, the Doctor turned the scanner on so he would know the moment his past self opened the wormhole to Pete’s World. While he waited, he cleaned the console, knowing that a speck of dust in the wrong place could throw their landing off by a few thousand miles, or a few years. He shuddered at the possibility of arriving late; it was bad enough that he’d missed the first few months of Rose’s pregnancy.

All the fears he’d managed to set aside for the day crept back into his mind. Inter-species pregnancies could be dangerous, and there was absolutely no data on a human-Time Lord pregnancy. Rose or their baby could be severely at risk, and he hadn’t been there to help.

And what about external risks? What if Torchwood discovered she was carrying an alien baby? Torchwood in this universe had followed the motto, “If it’s alien, it’s ours.” What about the Pete’s World Torchwood?

An alert on the console flashed before he could work himself up any further. The Doctor’s gaze swung to the monitor, which now showed an open wormhole through the Void. Despite all his concerns, he grinned and reached for the controls.

To his surprise, the time rotor started moving on its own. After blinking a few times, the Doctor laughed and grabbed onto the railing as his ship flew them into a parallel universe—one that contained his whole universe.

The engine whirred unhappily at the strain of trans-dimensional travel, and the grinding noises made the Doctor wince and look worriedly at the console. But the ship seemed to be holding together better than she had the first time they’d gone through the Void, so he held on tighter and let her fly.

Finally, they landed with a bone-rattling thunk. The Doctor took a few deep breaths, then ran down the ramp and threw the door open.

As soon as he stepped out into the cool evening air, the pain in the Doctor’s mind eased. Rose was here—Rose, and a tiny, still developing consciousness that he recognised immediately as the baby.

Weak-kneed, he leaned back against the TARDIS and stared at the large mansion he’d parked close to. He’d made it—they were here.

Before he was able to move, a door open, casting a pale yellow square of light onto the garden. “Doctor!”

He knew that voice, knew it better than any other voice in the universe. A sob caught in his throat, then he pushed off the TARDIS and ran towards Rose. He could hear his hearts pounding in his ears as he pumped his arms, eager to hold her again.

But even in his desperation, he remembered to be careful of the baby. He slowed down as he reached her and caught Rose with his hands on her hips to avoid slamming into her pregnant belly.

“Rose, oh Rose you’re here,” he whimpered as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

Rose tilted her head back, and he didn’t hesitate for an instant, bending down to press his lips to hers. The kiss tasted salty, but couldn’t tell if it was because of his tears or hers.

After a moment, he moved one hand up to her temple to fully restore their broken bond. Rose sighed against his lips when the pain of the last few months was washed away in the euphoria of their reunion.

I know, love. I know, the Doctor told her as he trailed his lips along her jawline. I’ve missed you so much.

Rose turned her head, and the Doctor gladly moved back to her lips, relearning her taste after four months apart. She slid her hands over his shoulders when he took her bottom lip between his own, alternating between suckling it gently and scraping his teeth over it.

Her hands carded through his hair, and he groaned when he felt her nails dig into the nape of his neck. God, Doctor, she said when he pulled her closer. Kissing you is even better than I remembered.

A third telepathic presence worked its way into their mental embrace, and the Doctor pulled out of the kiss with a gasp. The baby was begging for attention, and he immediately dropped to his knees in front of Rose and pressed his temple to her belly.

I’m here, little one, he said, beckoning for his child to come to him. I’ve missed so much, but I promise I’m here now, and we’re never going to be separated again.

Rose ran her hands through his hair. You came for us, she said, and he could feel her surprise. You said it was impossible, but you came anyway.

The Doctor pressed a kiss to her belly. Of course I came for you. I wanted to rip the universes apart as soon as I realised you were pregnant.

He pulled the baby’s mind closer to his, then reached for Rose over the bond and brought her into the embrace. We made this, Rose, he told her, overwhelmed by the moment. Timelines spun around them, and he caught glimpses of the new life they would live together—them and their children, travelling together through space and time.

Time expanded around Rose as she shared the first telepathic embrace with both the Doctor and the baby. They had so much to look forward to—more than the Doctor even realised.

She reached for him mentally and redirected his focus to the golden strand that wound all throughout their life. Doctor, look at this. She touched it, and they both sucked in a breath when the raw power of time surged through them.

Rose quickly pulled back from the golden strand, then looked down into the Doctor’s awestruck eyes. “I promised you forever,” she said quietly. “And that’s what we’re going to have.”

The baby kicked, and the tiny mind sparkled with happiness. The Doctor laughed and pressed one more kiss to Rose’s pregnant belly before jumping to his feet.

Rose could feel his eager desire to sweep her up and carry her into the TARDIS, and she shook her head. “Come on,” she told him, taking him by the hand and encouraging him to walk with her. “Everyone is waiting to say goodbye.” He sighed, but laced their fingers together and walked beside her without a complaint.

They’d only taken a few steps when the door opened further and her family came out to meet them. Mickey had the suitcase she’d packed that afternoon, and he walked past her to put it down by the TARDIS.

Her mum rushed across the lawn to wrap her up in a hug, and tears prickled in Rose’s eyes as she realised this would probably be the last time she’d see her mother. “I’m sorry,” she murmured as they held each other. “I wish I could have both you and him, but…”

Jackie pulled back and shook her head. “No point hoping for the impossible.” She pointed a finger at the Doctor. “Although, if anything ever happens to make it possible, I expect you to bring her back for a visit.”

The Doctor nodded. “Of course, Jackie. We’ll monitor the walls between the worlds from our side, and I expect Torchwood will be keeping an eye on them from this side.”

Pete had been standing awkwardly in the background, his hands in his pockets as he witnessed the goodbyes. But at this, he stepped forward and put his arm around Jackie’s waist. “You can count on it, Doctor,” he promised. “We’ve seen first hand how a breach in the Void can affect a world, so we’ll keep a close eye on things.”

“Yeah, that’ll be my job,” Mickey cut in. “I’ve already got your files on the dimension cannon project, Rose.”

Rose smiled and gave him a hug. “I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else.”

The Doctor cleared his throat. “I hate to cut things short, but unfortunately, the wormhole I came through won’t stay open forever. Rose and I need to get back to our universe.”

The TARDIS’ hum changed pitch, confirming the Doctor’s words. Rose looked over her shoulder at the ship, then back at her family. “I love you—never forget that.”

Then she took a deep breath and reached for the Doctor’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

[ziskandra]

PRIORITY OPS: REPOPULATING HELEUS (Ch. 2)

what did you do today, natasha? i made a dress and cried in a bunning’s parking lot and i also finished the next chapter of the longfic (finally!) HERE YOU GO. ao3 link. 1 | 2 |

2. Home Truth

When Liam returned from Prodromos, Sara was nowhere to be seen. Liam wasn't an idiot. He knew Sara hadn't been herself lately. Still, he hadn't expected her to simply disappear without a trace; while part of him understood why she'd done it, it caused a strong feeling of foreboding to settle in his gut. Why couldn't she just talk to him? What had he done wrong? Had he screwed things up already? The thoughts swirled around in his mind, but they did nothing but agitate him. He wasn't going to get answers like this, and he was torn between going searching for them or finding a distraction to throw himself in. God knew they had enough to be working on, and right now, he'd like to be doing something with his hands.

It was shortly after he found Sara's note attached to the fridge, her penmanship all hard lines and contained angles, that there came a knock at the door. Liam pulled up the security feed, and at first when he saw bright blue eyes staring back at him, he thought it was Sara. His heart washed with relief before common sense kicked in. He blinked once, twice, before realising it wasn’t indeed Sara but someone with those very same eyes. Scott.

“Hey,” Sara’s brother called, waving in the general direction of the security cam. “I know I’m dropping by unannounced and all, but, can I come in?” He bent at the knees, lifting a carton up into Liam’s field of view. “I brought beer!”

Liam couldn't help but laugh, even though it still did little to ease his nerves. He didn’t know the guy well, yet, but from what he did know? He liked him. And maybe Scott’s sudden appearance here had something to do with Sara’s disappearance. It was surely too much to be a coincidence. “All right, all right,” he acquiesced, pressing the button for the door’s override on his omnitool. “Come on up.”

Once he heard Scott struggling to heft the carton up the stairs, Liam popped out himself to help him carry it inside. Scott’s breath was heavy with exertion, fingers pale where he’d been gripping the box, his forehead a fine sheen of sweat. “Please don’t tell the doc I’ve been overdoing it,” Scott huffed. “I should be able to carry a fucking box…”

The box, by Liam’s reckoning, weighed at least a good fifteen kilograms. Hardly anything to a man like Scott at the peak of his physical conditioning, but he wasn’t, and therein lay the rub. He raised an eyebrow. “I won’t if you stop,” he offered as a compromise.

Scott threw his head back and let out an exaggerated sigh as they settled the box down in the kitchen. “Oh, God, not you too.”

It struck Liam then, as he busied himself with opening the carton, just how similar the twins were. It made him smile despite himself, despite how frustrated he currently was with Sara. Was this galaxy really ready for both of Alec Ryder’s kids?

“This is just like Sare,” Scott muttered from where he was stood by the fridge, finger running over the note Liam had discovered just before the other man had arrived.

“Is this the part where you tell me why you’re really here?” Liam asked, handing some to Scott to put away; they wouldn’t all fit in the fridge, but he’d like to at least try.

“That obvious, huh?” Scott answered with a laugh.

“That obvious.”

Excess beer safely stowed, Liam busied himself with pouring one for himself, and one for Scott. “Tell me about it,” he asked, doing his best to keep the trace of neediness out of his voice. He’d always been the kind of person who’d striven to understand people, know what made them tick so he could help them, if and when they needed it. The fact that he’d so obviously missed the mark with the person he cared most about in this whole galaxy still stung.

“All right,” Scott agreed, “but let’s get comfortable. Nice place, by the way!” He cocked his head to the side, as though appreciating the architecture of the ceiling. It looked to Liam like most of the other buildings that they'd built in Heleus since their arrival. “Still waiting for the housewarming, though.”

They settled on the couch, a look of deep thought settling on Scott’s face, deepening the thought lines on his forehead. He was a young bloke, young looking even, but the expression aged him. “Okay,” he started slowly, hardly looking at Liam, “Firstly, I know it’s not my business. But secondly, I saw Sara before she went off-planet and just… thought you deserved a better explanation than whatever the hell that was.” He waved a hand at the fridge. "If you want to hear it."

Scott's repeated hesitation made Liam wonder just how many sternly-worded warnings Sara had given him about getting involved in her business. He wondered, too, whether he should accept Scott's offer. Possible that Sara would see it as some transgression of boundaries. And yet. The situation seemed to warrant it. He closed his eyes, taking a deep sip of his beer. It helped, somewhat. "Okay," he agreed, settling back into the couch cushions, "hit me with it."

"Ah, shit," Scott sighed, "I didn't actually think this far ahead." He fiddled with his glass, twirling it between his fingers. If they were drinking real beer, out of real bottles, old-school style, Scott Ryder was definitely the kind of guy who'd rip off the label. "Just first, let me tell you, it's got nothing to do with you, all right? She's always been a bit like this." As though sensing Liam would seek clarification, Scott shrugged his shoulders gently before continuing. "Things get all up in her head, under her skin, and then poof, she's gone. Always took after Dad more, for the better and the worse."

Liam couldn't miss the way Scott's eyes clouded over; he nudged the other man in the shoulder with his beer. "I'm sorry," he said, because what else could he say? He didn't know what it was like to lose a parent, not the way Sara and Scott did. He'd left his behind, yeah, but they'd gone on to live long and fruitful lives without him. He'd made a decision. A choice. One the twins had never had.

The corner of Scott's mouth curved upward, a sad and tiny smile. "It's okay. I had a lot of time to think while I was stuck in that coma. It's more... I wish I could have been there. For Sara."

Liam sagged slightly at Scott's words, because he knew that he'd tried his best in those early Andromeda days, hell, the whole crew of the Tempest had. But it still hadn't been enough.  

As though reading Liam's mind, Scott threw him a shrewd look. "I know you love her. And I think you're good for her. But you don't know her like I do, and honestly? That's probably for the best." 

There was something about the look in Scott's eyes that told Liam that if he wanted to dig more deeply, Scott would probably let him. But he’d heard enough for now, and maybe recklessly pushing Scott's buttons would just tell him things he was better off not knowing. Sara's not even here but it was hard to ignore the way she'd affected him, especially after she'd voiced her disappointment in him after the mess with Verand. The old Liam would have pushed and pushed and pushed. Now? He was more cautious, and his nerves were somewhat calmed, and that was all he could really ask for. "So, I left for Eos, and she took the opportunity to ...go?" he asked, just to be certain about the timeline of the whole thing. 

"With the Tempest to Havarl," Scott confirmed. "She should be back soon enough. Give or take a few days. Still not certain about the travel time between places here." He took a long gulp of his beer, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "You know, one day, they're gonna have a proper comm buoy network all set up again, and everyone will be able to talk properly. Maybe." He winked.

Liam ran a hand through his hair. He really, really hoped he hadn't screwed things up.

***

Sara's return was marked by as little fanfare as possible. Liam was dozing off on the couch when he heard the door slide open. It could only be one person, the only other person who had access to their little house-slash-unit, whatever it was called. Liam felt his heart thump erratically in his chest as he heard Sara shuffle around in the bedroom before heading to the kitchen. He'd never been good at putting off confrontation, so he pushed himself up and forced himself to talk to her. He'd never really been good at this part of relationships; everything had always been fine until reality had set in, and that's when things got hard and when Liam started to feel out of his depth. Ended things, usually, before his temper did.  

But he'd also never been this stupidly in love before, and with everything he and Sara had been through together? Hell, it still felt like something straight out of a vid. He took a deep breath and tried to remember all the other relationship advice his dad had ever given him. People like to feel they're being heard rose to the forefront of his mind, and it made him wonder if maybe he hadn't been listening enough. Sara wasn't ready for the kind of commitments that he had taken for granted. That was fine. He still loved her, and so long as she still loved him, they could work something out. Together. 

Still. His throat felt raw and tight, like he was about to cry, as he approached her. She was standing by the refrigerator, stripped down to a singlet top and leggings, fastidiously removing the note she'd left there, the note that had Liam felt had been mocking him ever since he'd arrived home. "So," he started, doing his best to keep his voice even, "are we going to talk about it?" 

Sara jumped, almost as though she hadn't expected him around, hadn't given his presence a second thought, a flash of guilt passing through her bright blue eyes before her gaze hardened. He'd recognise that look anywhere. Doubling down. With a shrug so careful it seemed practiced, she crumpled the piece of paper in one fist. "I left a note," she deadpanned. 

"That's your explanation?" Liam said, more sharply than he anticipated. "'Hey, Liam, just have some things that need doing. Be back in a bit.'" He shut his eyes as he did his best to get a handle on his emotions. On one hand, yeah, Sara deserved to be listened to, and maybe he hadn't been doing a good enough job of that lately. On the other, his own feelings were still valid, and being left so thoroughly out of the loop like this? Well, it made him feel a bit shit, to be honest.

There was a moment of silence as Sara rustled around in the fridge, with a confused mutter about why the hell there was so much beer inside it. Eventually resurfacing with a large bottle of reconstituted orange juice, she took a deep sip straight from the container, wiping at her mouth with her wrist. "Yeah, that note," she answered with a jerk of her head. "Sorry it wasn't good enough for you or anything." 

Sara's stubborn passive-aggression unfurls something tightly coiled within his chest, he felt it crawl up his neck before he could quite stop himself. "God damn it, Sara," he started, eyes bunched up tight as though it would stop the inevitable tears from falling, "I was worried about you." He'd pretty much watched her die three times now and he still hadn't cried in front of her. Not really. The thing was, Liam had never been ashamed of his emotions; had told her, even, about how he still cried at night when he thought about his parents, the Milky Way and the life he left behind. Yes, even though he loved his new life now. But Sara has always been his strength, his rock, and as long as she was happy, he was happy, and now she was in obvious distress and he still wasn't enough.

He watched Sara's face drop out of the corner of her eye; she set the juice down on the corner as she whispered to herself, "Oh my God, I'm such a jerk." She reached out for him, a hand hovering just inches from his arm. He recognised the gesture from her own need for personal space; she was never the type of person to touch without permission, and also the kind of person who liked to be asked first. Liam, conversely, had always been very tactile. Dating Sara had been a learning curve.

Taking the offer as intended, he took her hand and drew her into a hug, burying his head into her hair and inhaling deeply through his nose. She smelt like some sort of angaran flower that he couldn't quite place, but what was most important was that she was there and real and he hadn't lost her. "You might not have come back," he whispered against her ear, and he wasn't really talking about just Sara's ill-timed interplanetary jaunt. He was thinking about all those other times he'd almost lost her, to the kett, to the Archon, and to think that after they'd survived all that, he could have lost her because he couldn't stop running at the mouth about just how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. 

He knew Sara had never been emotionally demonstrative; empathetic, yes, likely to get caught up in the heat of the moment, most definitely. Yet the depth of her feelings was something she'd always kept close and tight to her chest. It wasn't that Sara didn’t love him, Liam realised, just that she showed it in different ways. God knew he knew enough about the beginnings of relationships to remember how easy it was to get caught up in lust and discovering a new partner without taking the time to think about one's own self. One's own needs. Probably something Sara had already done but Liam hadn't even stopped to think about. But there was time. They had time. 

Sara buried her face into his chest, arms wrapping around him, holding him tight against her body. "I'll always come back for you, Liam Kosta," she assured him with a little laugh, a laugh that makes him feel a bit stupid for ever considering the opposite. "I just. Freaked out, okay? You were so certain about everything and I wasn't. But I'm feeling much better now." Her fingers splayed at his hips, running over the material they found there. "And I love you," she added, looking up at him through her eyelashes. 

"I love you," he responded automatically, sniffling slightly to get all the last bits of congestion and whatnot out of his eyes and nose. "Are you going to tell me what you were doing down in Havarl?" 

"I will," she promised, cupping his face with one hand, fingers wondering ponderously over his chin. Liam realised he'd forgotten to shave. "But let's go to bed first?" 

Liam yawned. Sleep? Sleep sounded good.