#walking through yet another desert alone when she should have been somewhere green and alive

[mourntheantagonist]

#HarringroveApril Day 23: Picnic

***

Billy’s favorite memories of his mom were always at the same place. That same little place that was outside those suffocating four walls where instead of just the aroma of beer and tobacco where the light came just from one flickering bulb in the ceiling, the sun shined through the branches on the maple trees over fields of dandelions, where his mom would always hold one up to his lips and tell him to make a wish.

They spent that time eating. She would pack a big basket full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, sliced fruit and juice boxes, and always something special and home made for the desert. They would sit out on a ratty old blanket and play with the ladybugs and enjoy their time away. Together.

It was always so perfect. So peaceful. He had to be physically dragged back home to the dingy and dusty apartment every time.

The day he used the dandelion to wish they could both just run away was the day he first stopped believing in it.

In the months leading up to his mom ditching, trips to the field were nonexistent for the most part, aside from the last one. The one that took place just two days before she packed her bags and left without a trace, without notice, nothing but a note left on the fridge granting Billy just one phone call before he would never hear her voice again.

He still went back to the field. He would sit with his back to their favorite tree until the sun began to set, waiting for her to come back. Waiting for her to emerge from the distance with that same contagious laugh and picnic basket in hand. He did that every day until he couldn’t anymore. Until seeing the sun set just one more time and seeing no blonde figure walking over through the horizon became too painful.

It got to a point where he wasn’t sure he’d be happy to see her if she did, just angry. So unbelievably angry. He would have shown her all of the cuts and bruises she left for him to bear all by himself. The one person he had in his corner left him high and dry and without even so much as a basket full of pb&j’s and her famous apple pie.

After waiting and hoping became too exhausting, the anger followed suit. It soon became easier to forget than to stay mad. It became easier to shut himself down when it was time for the belt than to curse her name for leaving him there to take it all alone. He’d let the rage fade away and think of only fields of green, yellow, and white, and the smile on his mom’s face, the mother that stood between him and the monsters, not the one who fed him to the dragon.

His happy place.

It didn’t take long for him to lose sight of that too. He could hardly remember what her face looked like anymore, and day by day, beating after beating, his happy place became too closely associated with pain, that it was just another place. Just another place he couldn’t successfully escape to anymore.

And the memory was lost. Just like that. Suppressed along with all of the others, and Billy could only recall her face in the few pictures he managed to keep away from the fireplace. He had nothing to replace the sounds of leather striking his skin or the taste of blood in his mouth, so he was left there to just take it. Unable to fight back, unable to breathe. He’d just stay there, hold back the tears, and keep telling himself that it would all be over soon.

He’d forgotten. Memories out in the field chasing butterflies and picking flowers and smearing jelly all over his face were replaced by red, replaced by pain and grief and a dark tunnel with no conceivable light on the other side. No more hope.

He’d forgotten until he found the same old wicker basket while cleaning the garage.

The old ratty blanket was still inside.

It was all still intact.

And the memories came flooding back like a fifty foot wave crashing over the top of him, drowning him, leaving him panicked and unsure of what to do next, where to go, how to proceed. He just held it in his two hands and let his eyes fall closed, seeing the green, yellow, and white displayed on the inside of his eyelids, feeling that happiness inside of him just one more time. The memories were far away, barely in reach, but they weren’t gone forever.

He could almost smell the lemon perfume and hear the buzz of the bees she attracted.

There were many steps that had to be taken in between point a and point b that couldn’t even be considered a mistake, but it felt a little bit like one when he was driving in the car to Steve’s house with a picnic basket in the passenger seat filled with beer and chips and whatever snacks he could find lurking in the back of their kitchen cupboards.

And of course, two quickly and poorly made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Steve had been the memories that filled the silence for him. It was Steve’s laugh that he heard when he needed the tears to stop, it was the feeling of his lips against his own that made the pain go away, it was the feeling of his arms around him, holding him tightly when Billy didn’t want him to let go, feeling like it was always too short when he did, that made it seem like only a second. A blip.

He wanted to have a picnic with Steve. He wanted to bring use to the abandoned basket and play with the ladybugs in Steve’s hair and make wishes on dandelions.

He knocked on Steve’s door with one hand, the other holding the picnic basket.

“Hey, you didn’t say you were coming over.” Steve said, eyes looking only to him and not noticing the basket just yet.

Billy held it up a little higher, right in Steve’s view. “I had a stupid idea, are you free?”

“I’m literally always free Billy.”

Billy laughed and pulled Steve outside by his hand, helping him down the step like a gentleman. “Y’know of any good places for a picnic around here?”

Steve guided him somewhere not too far, just ten minutes south of Hawkins where there was a large field with a pond nearby, quiet and vacant and perfect, and absolutely littered with dandelions both yellow and white. Despite the short trip, Billy had to slap Steve’s hand away from opening the basket more than one time.

It was freeing walking hand in hand through the field. There was nobody around to see them, but the open space made it feel public. No tight walls or car doors holding them in and hiding them from view. Just that little bit of freedom was enough. They found a little patch with a little bit of shade and laid out the blanket on the grass. It was just like he remembered. Tattered and worn blue cloth, it still had the grape juice stain on the corner from when he laughed so hard it came out of his nose.

Steve sat down and looked up at Billy with little puppy dog eyes that asked “can I please open it now?”

Billy just nodded his head and Steve immediately started pulling out the chips and the beers and the little saran wrapped sandwiches.

“It’s not gourmet or anything, but it’s food.”

“Don’t knock a perfectly good pb&j,” Steve said, already beginning to unwrap it. “What’s the special occasion anyway?”

“No special occasion, I just wanted to take you on a picnic.” Billy said, hesitating, wondering not only if he should go forward, but wondering if he even could. Would the words even come out if he tried to say them. “My mom and I went on picnics a lot as a kid.” He says it all in one hastily quick breath, sighing heavily when he reached the end of his sentence. “I thought this could help keep the memory alive.”

Steve took a bite of his sandwich while Billy worked on unwrapping his own, looking down and away from Steve as he finished chewing his bite. “You don’t talk about her much.” he said, and Billy chanced a look up, and Steve was giving him a soft toothless smile. Warm and inviting like it always was.

“She left when I was ten. It’s not like there’s a lot to talk about.” Billy took a bite out of his own sandwich, a large one just in case Steve decided to begin some type of interrogation, that way he’d have at least a little bit of spare time to think of something to say.

“What was she like?”

Billy smiled, the memories coming back again. He remembers doing somersaults and cartwheels in the grass pretending they were training to be gymnasts, even if Billy fell on his ass every time and got grass stains on his jeans that didn’t come out no matter how many times they ran them through the wash. He was also remembering all those times Neil would scream at her for letting him ruin another pair, and hearing her scream back at him just as loud.

“She was strong.” he said, smile only faltering for a second.

“I figured you had to have gotten it from somewhere.” Steve said, he managed to finish the first half of the sandwich in just the time it had taken Billy to answer. “What else? What did she look like?”

“She was blonde, bright blonde, and tall. She was beautiful.”

“So you didn’t get the height from her.” Billy nudged him in the shoulder and laughed. He pulled out two cans of beer from the basket and passed one over to Steve. “You think she would have liked me?”

“I’d just love to say no, but yeah. She would have adored you.” Billy said, because she would have, she would have loved to have a buddy by her side while she poked fun.

“Do you still miss her?” Steve asked, and Billy tensed enough that Steve noticed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, it’s okay.” Billy took a deep breath. “I think for a while there, I forgot to miss her, but I think I always will.” he shut his eyes and bowed his head. “Sometimes I feel like she hurt me worse than my dad ever did, so I shouldn’t have good memories of her.”

Steve moved across to the other side of the blanket and pulled Billy into his side, one arm wrapped around him and Billy just let his head tilt to the side and rear on his shoulder. “She betrayed your trust. I can’t even begin to imagine how much that hurt, but you’re still allowed to have the good memories. She doesn’t get to take those away from you too.” Steve rubbed his hand against Billy’s arm, the friction making him warm and sending a chill up his spine. “And missing her, remembering good things about her, it doesn’t have to mean that what she did after was okay. It doesn’t forgive her.”

Billy doesn’t realize he’s crying until Steve’s wiping away a tear from his cheek.

“Hey, I love you,” Steve said, holding Billy’s face in both hands and looking him right in the eye before giving him a short and chaste kiss to the lips, “and I’d love to hear more about her if it helps you remember,” Steve kissed him again, longer this time, pushing a strand of hair back and tucked behind his ear, “and I want to help you replace the bad ones with better ones if you’ll let me.”

Billy smiled and wrapped a hand around Steve’s wrist that was still holding his cheeks. “You already do, everytime I see you.”

Sitting on that blanket, eating from that basket, it sent a lot of forgotten memories rushing back in a flood, and as Steve kissed him there was one that kept pounding at the front of his skull.

When his mom held the dandelion to his lips, and he made the wish…

“I wish I will fall in love.” he said it out loud for his mom to hear and she just smiled.

“Anyone would be a fool not to love you.”

That one came true.

He was in a sea of dandelions ready to be wished on, but he didn’t budge from his spot, because there was nothing he could think to wish for. He had everything he wanted right in front of him.

And he tasted just like peanut butter.

[velociraptors-dont-lie]

My Way (Four)

Summary: Anita passes the eye of the storm. 

Warnings:....More swearing? perhaps.  

A/N: Short one. Before it all kicks up. I wanna say, Anita is british for any that are confused by the way she seems to be. We’re all bit crazy over here. lol. Also....i hate this, hehe. 

Read on AO3 ,Part one here. Part Two here. Part Three here.

Chapter Four

Kuiil had given her a cloak and a pair of ratty old shoes to wear to protect her healing feet. Thankfully enough the cloak kept her dry from the rain that had decided to appear on their journey to find the Jawas.

The blurgg, as they had called it, was dragging a large... Anita was going to call it boat because that's what it looked like. It's what she and the Mandalorian were sat on... in the rain.

Luckily enough, Scamp was more than content to stay hidden inside his pod, safe from being pelted with falling water. It rained all through the night but somewhere during the journey she had fallen asleep, woken only when the sun had reared its ugly head.

''They really don't like you for some reason.'' she heard Kuiil speak, addressing the Mandalorian who was still sat in the same position as when they had left.

''Well I did disintegrate a few of them.'' Anita rolled her eyes at his reply to Kuiil opening the pod to check on Scamp, who was already awake and waiting to go. He crawled out of his pod and into her lap, looking up at her and fiddling with the jewellery around her neck.

Kuiil had told The Mandalorian to drop his weapon and after little arguing, he reluctantly did so. She stayed with the child on the makeshift vehicle as Kuiil and Mando went to talk to the Jawas about getting his parts back. Scamp seemed interested in everything going on whilst also clinging onto the crystal hanging from his mothers neck.

Anita watched them calmly, noting that the Mandalorian's weapons were close by should she need to use or throw them to him. Squinting with annoyance as they mocked him for his broken Jawa he tried to speak, amused when he tried to fry a few alive.

Though her guard was instantly up and her arms wrapped around Scamp when two Jawas came up to them, interested in the green creature in her lap. Anita's eyes darted to the gun left beside her when a sudden shout called out.

''Get away from them!''

It was only a minute later when they started chanting something in their language. Excited when the deal was struck and everyone was ushered onto their crawling fortress.

''What do they want?''

''An egg.'' The Mandalorian replied.

''An...egg?''

She sat between him and a Jawa in the fortress as it made its journey to wherever this egg was. Only slightly creeped out by the one who drawled out the word in his language whilst staring at the Mandalorian.

They stopped seemingly in the middle of nowhere but Anita thought the entire planet was near enough deserted, so she trusted the Jawa's enough to assume they knew where to go. She, Scamp, Kuiil and the Mandalorian were stood by the door as it dropped waiting to leave to find the egg.

He moved and the pod followed, but as Anita went to take her steps to follow, he stopped and turned to look at her. ''You're staying.''

Anita smiled sweetly, hummed out her laughter and shook her head. ''No.''

He watched her walk past him, bag on her shoulders still and though impressed that she was ready to face whatever dangers awaited them, she was still injured. ''You are still hurt.''

''No more hurt than I was without the shoes. Thank you, kuiil!'' Anita bent slightly over the pod, making sure her white lab coat was cushion enough for Scamp to be comfortable on. ''He's going? I'm going. Bye now, I actually want off this planet.''

She gripped onto the pod with one hand and dragged it off into a direction, intent on getting the egg herself if he was just going to sit there and complain that she shouldn't go. She heard him sigh, his armour making noises as he approached and took her upper arm in his hand.  

''It's this way.''

Smiling in victory, yet surprised at the gentle hold he had gripped her with, she followed him with little care. Warming up to the man hadn't been all that hard, he barely spoke, hadn't cared to annoy her with anything and only kept them safe from harm.

She had no idea who she would be with when they got to Nevarro, but she hoped they were as gentle as the Mandalorian seemed to be. After walking for another long while, he finally stopped in a crater, there was a hole in the side of the sand wall where Anita assumed the egg would be.

''Wait here this time.'' He told her, lifting his arm and fiddling with something. She wanted to argue but held her tongue since the pod stayed next to her when he walked away. Anita had a bad feeling about this, something about the whole area screamed danger, but she didn't want to leave Scamp alone to fetch their protector.

Jumping in her spot when he fired in gun and then once more when he was thrown from the hole. Something roared then showed itself, large and Rhino like except it was covered in ...moss like hair and mud.

The Mandalorian tried to prepare his gun and fire it but was hit by the horn of the space Rhino and was thrown backwards again. Anita scrunched her face and hissed as though she had felt the pain herself.

His gun knocked away from him, the Space rhino turned its attentions on Scamp and herself, her heart dropping into her stomach. The pod was moved away from her and out of danger at the wave of his arm, and he yelled out as Anita didn't move until the last minute to avoid the creature turning at the last moment, instead going face-first into the wall behind her.

Attention back on the Mandalorian, Anita wondered what she could do to help as if she had any fightings skills whatsoever. She worried about him, none of his weapons are defences were affective, and she could feel something within her stirring. A pain and a fear of actually losing the one person who seemed to helping, who seemed to have a heart.

Scamp looked up at the woman who cared for him, seeing her step forward in hesitation, her face contorted in worry and he himself wanted to do something. The woman who had adopted him and treated him like her own son had never cried, had never expressed a fear such as this and he wanted nothing more than to stop the tear she didn't even know was trailing down her cheek.

The creature brace and prepared to charge, The Mandalorian pulled a tiny knife from his side and took his own last stand but before the creature could hit him, it stopped and struggled. Lifting into the air as though some invisible force was doing it, both pairs of eyes turning to look down at the child in his pod who had a hand reached out.

Anita panicked when Scamp dropped his hand and fell back, checking him over for injuries as the Mandalorian won the fight against the creature. Satisfied that her child was merely exhausted and sleeping, she turned her attentions as she dropped her bag next to the pod.  

''Manny!'' her feet slipped in the mud, but she hardly cared for as she slipped to her knees to next to him. ''Are you okay? Any bones broken or gashes that need cleaning? Your head hurt? I'll close my eyes, and you take of the helmet to check for wounds!?''

Glad the helmet kept her from seeing his confused face as she searched him over for injuries, he gently caught her wrists in his hands and, though she couldn't see it, smiled gently. ''I'm fine. The child-''

''He's fine! He's sleeping! Whatever he did, it exhausted him.'' She glanced over to her boy sleeping in his boy. ''did you feel it? The energy in the air?'' she watched his helmet shake from side to side, confusing her.

Anita did feel it in the air, the raw energy that swirled in the atmosphere in a way that she could have touched had she just lifted her own hands. She tried to help him up, but what with the mud so slippery, they only ended up crashing to the floor again, covering her in just as much mud as he was covered in.

He disappeared inside the cave again and reappeared with the egg in hand. The pod following him once again as they made the journey back to the Jawa's and Kuiil.

''He's never done that before.''

Anita shook her head. ''No. I've never seen him do anything like that. But it now tells me why the Nikto's were so hell-bent on keeping him.'' He hummed in reply, not another word said between them even when they arrived back to the Jawas.

They seemed happy to see the egg, cheering and when they had it, they cracked it open and began to scoop out its contents like Pooh bear and jar of honey. Anita rested on the thing she had been calling a boat and when all his ship parts were piled on, she rested back against them.

She pulled Scamps pod in close, closed her eyes and drifted off as though his own energy bending had exhausted her as well. They were working on the ship when she woke up, watching them contently and learning as she tried to feed Scamp while he slept.

The ship slowly but surely ended up looking pretty cool, and she couldn't wait to see it turned on.  Exploring its little characteristics while the two men talked.

''Thank you for the shoes and medical supplies, Kuiil! I hope to see you again!'' Kuiil waved from the blurrg and Anita climbed the ladder into the cockpit, sitting in the passenger chair. Leg's bouncing excitedly as the Mandalorian pushed the pod into her lap and prepared to turn on his ship.

The rumble of the engines were almost as loud as the heartbeat in her ears, The ship lifted from the ground and flew off into the sky.

''Oh wow.'' The Mandalorian looked over at Anita as he heard the whisper, seeing her eyes scouring the vast darkness of space, the numerous stars, and he could see the slight sheen ion her eyes.

''You act like you've never seen space before.''

''Not like this.'' She replied. ''Only ever from the ground. Space travel was limited to our moon on my planet. We're nowhere near this advanced on space travel -'' She lifted her feet slightly ''-medical supplies. Bacta? Amazing.''  

''you must have felt out of place.''

''Very. But it's nice to see this now, before you hand us over to whoever. I doubt space travel is gonna be in my future when we get to nevarro.''

He felt guilty all of a sudden, remembering how he'd lied to her. The client wasn't going to need her for whatever they needed the child for and she wasn't going to be happy about it at all. Whatever trust she had built up for him was going to be torn down, shredded and eaten by the anger she'll direct at him.

The gentle cooing of the child distracted Anita from asking anymore questions. He told her where she could clean up and she took the child with her, leaving him to wallow in his own guilt.

Tags:

@buckysalefty​

Picture (if its there) was made with some xmen dress up game thing I found. It’s what Anita’s hair looked like before the months on Arvala-seven. as of this chapter. There’s about 3 to 4 inches of brown virgin hair grown in. and its probably faded to less vibrant blue

[juniperwindsong]

Necessary Monsters (5/16)

  Summary:  "Isn't it considered ungentlemanly to keep a lady in suspense? Especially after she's nearly been killed?" "How many times do you plan on using that?" "As many as I can before the novelty wears off."

    Felix is lucky he's already garnered a reputation for himself at the Romanian Reserve. He's sure he would never pass this interview otherwise. He can't remember half the things he's learned about international dragon research regulations, and completely fumbles the telling of his team's recent successful capture. But the Reserve Liaison cannot stop shaking Felix's hand, awed to meet the young man who "caught a Common Welsh Green at seventeen, quite remarkable!" He assures Felix the paperwork will be finalised and forwarded to Romania that very day, and by tomorrow, Felix will officially be the Reserve's Junior Resident Dragonologist for the Peruvian Vipertooth.

   "You'll be such an exciting addition! So many brilliant young people there just at present. Makes me wish I weren't retired to an office, but, the missus does like her quiet life."

   Felix manages a polite smile, and the Liaison pumps his hand a final time.

   The job he's dreamed of since childhood is his. And it's a beautiful early summer morning that greets Felix as he steps onto the sidewalk outside the Ministry for Magic guest entrance. By rights, it should be the best day of his life. If the sound of Juniper's eldritch scream wasn't replaying in the back of his head every few minutes.

   Felix sets off down the deserted street in a random direction. Freshly washed and laundered, and no work required of him for the rest of the day, he knows he should be apparating back to St Mungo's to check on Juniper's condition. But a strange reluctance tugs his feet around a corner and onto a walk bustling with muggles. He doesn't know what to expect upon his return; Juniper once again laid out like a corpse on white sheets, or wide-eyed and wailing, unable to escape whatever horrors that curse had inflicted upon her.

   Shuddering at the memory, Felix's eyes squeeze shut briefly and he bumps into a couple turning a corner in his direction. The woman holds up a hand in quick apology, her other hand caught fast by the man beside her. Eyeing Felix, the man pulls his companion closer so they take up less room on the walk. The woman giggles, melting against him, and Felix is forgotten as they traipse away, wrapped entirely in each other.

   It's exactly the sort of casual romantic display Felix dreams of, and his heart aches with a desperate longing. His evenings of the last year have been filled with similar fantasies: meeting Juniper somewhere in passing, chatting her up charmingly, letting her see how much older he is now, how much more confident and impressive. One particularly alluring daydream he indulges in often involves rescuing Juniper from some dangerous enemy and comforting her from the subsequent fear, until his embrace wipes away all memory of the horror she's experienced. 

   Felix stops abruptly, and the man behind him almost runs him down. He swears at Felix loudly, then rights himself and speeds away. Felix takes no notice. What on earth is he doing here, strolling past muggle shops, while Juniper is in pain, alone with only abrasive healers and murderous aurors and, well, Snape, to provide any sort of comfort? 

   Fiery indignation at his own cowardice burns a hole through Felix’s chest. This is hardly his fantasy; he's never imagined Juniper tortured or half-dead in hospital. But it's still an opportunity. Perhaps the opportunity. To show her the precise depth of his feelings in a way she cannot misunderstand.

    Felix pats his inner pocket. He still has the letter he spent an entire night composing. And a whole day before he has to be in Romania. 

-

   The hospital is a good deal less crowded when Felix returns that afternoon. He bypasses the help-witch, nose firmly in the air, exits the stairs at the fourth floor and wanders down the main corridor, trying to remember the sequence of hallways leading to Juniper's hidden room. As he walks, he becomes aware of voices in the distance. Vaguely familiar voices, though he can't place how he knows them. The sounds grow clearer the farther Felix walks, and just before he turns onto the final dead-end hallway, he recognises one.

   "Barnaby?"

   The young man's head whips around, eyes comically wide as he stares at Felix. Felix stares right back, taking in the tableau in front of the dirty window in disbelief. Barnaby Lee has his arm around a tear-stained Rowan Khanna. Propped on the windowsill behind them, Felix can make out Penny Haywood and, his heart thuds unpleasantly, Charlie Weasley, hands shoved deep into his pockets. In front of the sixth-year students, a tall healer with long, black hair lounges against a door. Her face is sharp and forbidding, until she blows a large pink bubble from her chewing gum and pops it loudly.

   "Maybe he can help?" says the healer, jerking her chin at Felix.

   "Felix!" Barnaby rushes up the hall. “Are you here about Juniper, too? Have you seen her yet?"

   "Do you know if she's okay?" Rowan asks, trailing behind Barnaby and wiping her eyes on her scarf.

   "What-what on earth are you all doing here?" Felix stutters.

   "Why? Did we get the wrong hall?" The strangely impish healer cocks her head curiously. "I swear this is the one Snape turned down this morning. I just didn't see what door he went through."

   "It doesn't matter, they're all locked anyway," adds the Weasley boy, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.  

   Felix's shock gives way to irritation. "I mean - how did you get here? You're all supposed to be in school!"

   The healer chuckles around her wad of chewing gum.

   "We're here to see Juniper," explains Rowan in a rush. "They said she was attacked but no one will say anything about what happened or how she is, just that she was here. And then Chiara told us the fireplace in Madam Pomfrey's office is connected to one here so she can communicate with the healers, and so Tulip distracted her by letting off a bunch of dung-“

   "Rowan!" cries Penny from the window, "You're going to get us all in trouble!"

   Rowan gives a choked sob and Barnaby drapes his arm around her again.

   "It's okay, Felix will help. He wants to see Juniper, too." Barnaby looks expectantly at his former prefect. "Do you know where she is?"

   Felix is entirely lost for what to do. He's never even heard of students sneaking from the school as far away as London; the amount of house points that's likely to cost them makes the old prefect within him feel faint. He knows he ought to enforce their immediate return to school, but a five-to-one duel in a cramped hallway seems unwise.

   "Look," he sighs. "I don't think Juniper is up to visitors just yet. She isn't - isn’t well."

   "You've seen her?" gasps Rowan.

   "How is she?" asks Penny, jumping up from the windowsill and hurrying toward him, Charlie and the odd healer following closely.

   Felix takes a step back from the throng of eager students. They look like a nest of newly hatched Vipertooths all edging toward him with hungry expressions, and he has to make a conscious effort not to draw his wand for protection.

   "Like, I said, she's not well.”

   "But she's alive?" Charlie insists.

   Felix's eyes narrow at the red head. "Yes."

   There's a chorus of relieved murmurs.

   "But she needs rest," Felix continues. "She's still...still - hurt." he finishes, unable to think of a better way to describe her condition.

   "If she's hurt, she needs some cheering up!" the healer says brightly. "Who better to do that than her friends?"

   Felix looks the woman up and down. "Which friend are you?"

   The healer's entire body suddenly shifts, and he recognises the pink-haired Hufflepuff from the Quidditch after-party.

   "Tonks," she says with a wink and another pop of her gum.

   "Please, Felix," begs Rowan. "We just want to see her. We won't stay long."

   Felix flounders. His desire to send them all away and speak to Juniper alone battles his itch to return to her side as quickly as possible.

   "Look, when I left she was asleep. And there isn't much room in there-” Felix breaks off as he remembers Juniper’s ever-present guard. If it's Snape, he'll have each student in detention every evening for the next year. And if it's Moody, well, he might just jinx the lot of them. "Alright then, hurry up before someone sees."

   Felix edges around the teenagers to the end of the hall, and taps the window with his wand. The lock clicks, the door swings open, and he steps aside to let Juniper's friends push into the tiny room. He leans against the doorway where he can duck out of the line of fire if necessary, but neither Snape nor Moody are inside. Instead, it's the nervous trainee healer from last night who jumps up from the bedside chair.

   "Who are you? What's going on?" He points his shaking wand from person to person, finally settling it on Tonks, again disguised as the severe looking healer, who draws herself up to full height.

   "It's alright! I have given us - that is - these students permission to visit Juniper, er, Miss Windsong. Which I can do, being a fully qualified healer and all."

   Felix snorts quietly and turns his attention to the bed. He does a double-take, pushing himself quickly off the door frame. Juniper is sitting up, staring at the horde of people packed into her room.

   "What's the password, then?" demands the trainee, his challenge belied by the obvious fear in his voice.

   "Ah, the password, yes..." Tonks waffles. She flicks her eyes to the students around her, all as clueless as she. "Well, I definitely know it. And....it is...”

   "Dragon Heart-String."

   The words from the door cause the trainee to promptly drops his wand, then almost drop it a second time when he recognises Felix.

   "It's alright," Felix assures the young man. "They're not dangerous. But they're not supposed to be here. Would you mind sending an owl to Hogwarts letting them know some students have escaped? Post it care of Professor Snape, if you please. I'll keep watch."

    Juniper's gang of devotees all look at Felix askance. Someone at the back, and Felix has a sneaking suspicion who, mutters mutinously.    

   The trainee healer hesitates for only a second before nodding and scurrying from the room, doubling back just before Felix shuts the door. The young man points the chewed-up nail of his index finger at the bedside table.

   "She's supposed to take a draught for dreamless sleep in a minute. It's the blue one. Will you -"

   "I'll make sure she drinks it," Felix confirms, and leans back against the closed door.

   "Juniper?" ventures Penny cautiously, taking the seat by the bed. "Are you....are you alright?"

   Juniper, uncharacteristically silent through all the excitement, blinks at her friend.

   "I'm sorry," she says in a low, hoarse voice. "Do I know any of you?"

   The room is deathly quiet. For several seconds, no one seems to breathe, and Felix is sure his heart has stopped beating. Then the ghost of Juniper's lop-sided smile appears.

   "You should see your faces," she chuckles feebly.

   Felix's intake of breath sounds like a gasp, but no one hears it over Rowan's fresh burst of tears and the appreciative laughs from Charlie and Tonks.

   "Nice one, Juniper!" The once-again pink-haired Hufflepuff collapses onto the foot of the bed. "Nearly had me on!"

   "Juniper, that was awful!" chides Penny in a hurt voice. Barnaby continues to look confused, and bends down to whisper a question to the glassy-eyed Rowan.

   "C'mon, I can't have my little joke? I did nearly die." While her humour has apparently made a full recovery, Juniper's voice sounds frail to Felix, and worry gnaws little holes in his stomach.

   “Blimey, did you really?" Tonks asks, almost awed. Charlie nudges her in the side with his elbow and she tumbles from the bed.

   "But you're okay now, right?" Charlie asks in concern. "What happened?"

   Something in Juniper's eyes goes abruptly dark, like curtains drawn across windows. "I don't know. I can't remember anything."

    "Is this another trick?" asks Penny nervously, but Juniper shakes her head. The movement is slight, a quick angle of her chin to either side, but it makes her flinch. The sight of Juniper in obvious pain shakes the rest of the shock from Felix.

   "Alright, you lot, that's enough. You've seen her and she's alive, so off you go."

   Every person in the room begins to protest at the same time, and Felix has to raise his voice to be heard over the clamour.

   "Snape is on the way,” he reminds them. That silences the lot. "Now, he knows there are students here, but he doesn't know who. If you clear out before he arrives, he may not know whom to punish."

   "Won't you just tell him?" argues Charlie from the corner.

   Felix considers him coolly. "I can tell Snape I didn't recognise anyone." Barnaby grins, and Felix fixes him with his best prefect’s glare. "If you all leave now."

   The sixth years exchange calculating looks with one another, then Penny gets to her feet.

   "We'll come back and see you when term's over," she promises Juniper, to murmurs of agreement.

   Tonks pops her gum again as she scrambles off the bed. "And we'll send you loads of sweets!”

   "Yeah, Mum says the food here is rubbish," agrees Charlie.

   They congregate at the edge of the bed as if unsure of the proper goodbye to give someone covered in countless angry cuts. Juniper relieves them of the decision by lifting her trembling hand in a little wave, which her friends return before filing out the door. Only Rowan breaks away and rushes for the bed. She throws her arms carelessly around Juniper, who winces but pats her friend's back lightly.

   "I'm so glad you're alive," Rowan sniffs.

   "I'm always alive," Juniper reassures her. "Now, go! Get revising, please. You’ll have to help me catch up later."

   Rowan straightens with a shaky smile and returns to the waiting Barnaby. The door closes behind them with a quiet click.

   Juniper leans back, eyes closed. Felix can now see she's not so much sitting as propped up by several large, fluffy pillows. Her body sags against them, seemingly unable to support its own weight. He clears his throat, and Juniper's eyes snap open.

   "Merlin's beard, I didn't know you were still here!" she groans, pushing herself up weakly, and fixing a smile back onto her face. Felix's heart breaks at the sad display.

   "Stop," he orders gently, crossing the room to take the bedside chair. "Don't sit up, you need to rest."

   "I'm fine," Juniper argues, her anemic voice entirely unconvincing. Felix presses on her shoulder lightly, but she collapses against the pillows as if he had shoved her.

   "Don't even try that bit on me, Juniper. You can fool your friends, but I saw you unconscious. And I saw you wake up." The blush flooding her face looks like overdone rouge, emphasising how unnaturally pale she still is. Felix grimaces at it as he continues, "You're about as far from fine as it's possible to be."

   "No, yesterday I was as far from fine as it's possible to be. Today, I'm a good deal closer."

   Felix scans Juniper critically. She's still sickly-looking, the cuts standing out against her skin like violent freckles. And her fingers continue to twitch where they rest at her sides. But she's so much more alive than the last time he saw her, and he can't detect any obvious signs of madness. Relief envelopes him like a warm blanket.

    "Felix?" Juniper interrupts his inspection. "Is it true my brother was here?"

     Felix wonders which thoughtless person mentioned this and what story they told. He briefly considers lying, but thinks better of it.

    "Yes," he admits. "He was the one who woke you up."

    "Did you speak to him? What did he say?" Excitement is obvious even in her unsteady voice and a fresh surge of jealousy at Jacob Windsong courses through Felix.

    "He just said...he was sorry he dragged you into all this. And...that he... loves you."

   A small, almost embarrassed smile graces Juniper's features for a moment, then fades as she remembers, "But he didn't stay."

   Felix can only shake his head, determined to hex Jacob first thing the next time they met for the look of pitiful hurt on his sister's face.

   "That was it? He didn't say where he was going to be? What he was going to do next?"

   This line of questioning makes Felix nervous, and he chooses his words carefully.

   "He said he wanted you to be safe. Whatever he's doing, I don't think he wants you to follow him."

   "Don't worry, I'm not about to go anywhere right now."

   Juniper wriggles back against her pillows, and reaches across to the bedside table for the draught of dreamless sleep. She lifts the bottle toward her, accidentally dropping it into her lap. She picks it up and fumbles it again, her trembling fingers unable to keep hold of the glass for more than a second.

    "Here, let me," offers Felix but she pushes his hand away with a grumbled, "I've got it."

   Juniper clenches the bottle between her knees to keep it still and tries to tug on the cork, but her twitching fingers refuse to grip. After a minute of struggling, she throws her arms down with a noise of frustration.

   Delicately, Felix plucks the bottle from her lap and uncorks it with ease. He holds it out, unsure exactly what to do next. He catches Juniper's eye and she attempts to smile, as if in a shared joke. But he can tell the need for assistance causes her as much pain as her injuries. She leans forward and allows him to tilt the liquid into her mouth, then falls back again, eyes closed and face a garish shade of pink.

   "Thank you."    

   "Of course," says Felix. He means to sound cheerful and unconcerned, but it comes out too high pitched. “It’s just a side effect of the c- I mean, just... everything you've been through. I'm sure it will right itself. Or they'll find some way of fixing it. The healers here are supposed to be the best." He shuts his lips tightly over his nervous prattle, and worries a finger across the scar on his neck.

   Juniper says nothing. Felix wonders if she's heard him at all, or if the potion has already worked its magic. Until she murmurs his name sleepily, sending a shiver down his spine.

   “Felix?”

   "Yes?"

   "If my brother comes again, will you wake me? Please?"

   The pleasurable sensation dies.

   "I will," he promises.

-

   Once Juniper is safely asleep, Felix settles back into the armchair, grateful for the extra time to think. Something about this fresh reminder of Juniper's condition has set his confidence off-kilter. If she's preoccupied with her injuries, she may not be in the right frame of mind to receive his admission with the enthusiasm he would prefer. He broods on this for a while, considering the correct approach.

   Felix pulls the letter from his pocket and turns it over in his fingers. He remembers the gist of its contents, but the desire to re-read it in light of Juniper's new circumstances is too strong to be ignored. Glancing around, he unseals the envelope carefully and straightens out the parchment.

   A few second’s quick reading, and Felix’s face is a shiny, brick-red. The colour only grows with each successive line. He makes it half-way through the letter before he's forced to thrust the parchment back into his pocket out of self-defense, mortification squeezing his head so fiercely he's afraid his eyes might pop. Had he really written this just days ago and felt proud of it? Even intended to send it? Felix shudders at the thought of any one ever reading what he clearly wrote in a fit of sleep-deprived pique. It's a sappy, sopping mess of pretentious lines and flowery adjectives.

   Embarrassment prickles against his skin like tiny needles, and Felix leaps to his feet, unable to sit still. He paces the small space between the door and the wall. Barely half a dozen steps, back and forth, over and over again, until the noxious tide of shame begins to ebb. He takes several deep breaths, running his hands over his hair and smoothing it flat to his head.

  Perhaps he's a bit hard on himself. Love is something words are hardly ever able to do justice, and it’s not as though he has much practice. Felix pulls a corner of the parchment from his pocket and peeks at it again. A second glance suggests his confession might not be complete drivel. It contains a dramatic flair that could, perhaps, appeal to an average seventeen year old. But it's not remotely the sort of thing to interest a girl who's just been tortured nearly to death.

   That's the trouble with Juniper Windsong. She isn't easy to impress. Which of his accomplishments from the last three years can stand up to hers? Any danger he's faced, she’s faced worse. She's the cursebreaker, after all. The hero who's saved Hogwarts more times than he can count.

   Felix rubs at the scar on his neck in distraction. Now he thinks about it from that perspective, he isn't sure what he has to offer the young woman asleep on the bed. She eschews protection, hardly needs assistance, clearly has no lack of dedicated friends. Why has she even bothered keeping up with him all these years? It's clear she doesn't need him for anything.

   Misery dulling his senses, Felix nearly crashes into Snape as the professor opens the door abruptly. Behind him is the curly-haired healer from yesterday and her nervous trainee. And, Felix takes a step back in surprise, Professor Dumbledore. Felix dips his hand into his pocket, but Snape gives the password before Felix can produce his wand.

   The healer stomps roughly past him to the bed-side table. The sounds of violently clinking bottles echo around the still room.

   "I still do not see why this has to be done right this minute," she seethes.

   "Healer Early, you know I would not bother your patient if it weren't of the utmost importance." Dumbledore approaches the other side of the bed, looking down at Juniper's sleeping form. “The more we know about this attack, the greater our chance of catching the perpetrators."

    "I understand your priorities, Headmaster, but this girl has hardly been conscious a day. You're far more likely to get helpful information if you allow her to rest and recover than if you press her mind at this delicate stage."

   Dumbledore makes another apologetic reply, but Felix's attention is captured by Snape who jerks his head pointedly at the still-open door. With a quick glance at Juniper, now sandwiched between the arguing healer and headmaster, Felix follows. The lock hasn't even clicked behind him before Snape is in his face and whispering urgently.

   "Has Miss Windsong said anything to you about her attack?"

   "She said she couldn't remember anything."    

   Snape's eyes bore into Felix's from an uncomfortably close proximity. Felix tries to angle his head away from the Potion Master's unpleasant breath without being too obvious.

   "And I don't suppose you could be relied upon for any useful information?"

   "Like I said before, I didn't notice anything unusual."

   For a moment, Felix fears Snape's eyes will actually burn a hole right through him. Then the Potions Master relents, drawing back with unconcealed contempt. In spite of the fact that he's been graduated for years, Felix can't help feel a quick stab of shame at disappointing his former head of house. He steels himself against it, focusing instead on his most recent concern.

   "Professor," Felix begins tentatively. "The healer said yesterday that - that Juniper...that she didn't expect Juniper to be alright, even if she did wake up. And earlier, she couldn't - " A sudden lump rises in his throat, and he has to swallow hard to dislodge it. "Juniper couldn't hold her own potion bottle. Let alone open it. She's still - I mean, her hands aren't...." He trails away, kicking himself for sounding so scattered in front of Snape, whose opinion of Felix has clearly taken a significant dip.

   "It will get better soon, won't it?" he finishes childishly.

   There's the merest flicker of something in the Potion Master's eyes, too quick for Felix to identify before his inscrutable mask is back in place.

   "It's difficult to say," Snape replies quietly, his own fingers rubbing against the palms of his hands unconsciously. "With therapy and the regular administration of certain restorative draughts, Miss Windsong may achieve some limited mobility within a year."

   The sensation of his jaw actually dropping is distantly strange to Felix. His mouth feels both dry and heavy, and completely unfamiliar with the formation of words. For a few seconds, he can only emit cracked syllables. He has to physically shake his head from side to side to reset his brain.    

   "A year? Professor, what.. what is she going to do? How will she go to school if she can't hold her own wand? She has NEWTs this-"

   "Mr Rosier.” Snape cuts off Felix's frantic questions tartly. "As tragic as her condition undoubtedly is, Miss Windsong has brought this upon herself with her absolute refusal to pay even the slightest attention to the rules put in place for her own safety." He raises his voice a fraction over Felix's choking noise. "However, the Headmaster has made a habit the last six years of allowing Miss Windsong an excessive amount of exemptions from rules and consequences. I doubt very much he will stop now. And you may rest assured she will have the best care St Mungo's can provide. There is no reason to overburden yourself with worry about her physical condition.

   "What you can do," Snape pauses, ensuring he has Felix's undivided attention. "Is inform me immediately if Miss Windsong mentions anything about her attack. And if you notice anything out of the ordinary about her in the coming months."

   "What do you mean?"

   Snape pauses, and Felix has the distinct impression he's searching for a way to explain without revealing something important.

   "If Miss Windsong appears in any way out of character, it may be worth noting. We do not yet know what curse she was under nor whether it has lasting effects. It would be prudent for the people closest to her to keep an eye."

   "Professor, I'm... I'm supposed to report to Romania. Tomorrow," Felix realises with a start and suddenly wonders at the hour. Time seems to stand still in the hospital room. "I suppose I could ask to postpone-"

   Snape's black brows travel the length of his forehead in an expression almost like surprise. He casts an appraising look at Felix.

   "I do not think that will be necessary. I believe you and Miss Windsong...correspond?" he sneers. Felix's blush is so habitual by now he hardly notices as he gives a short nod. "If her writing gives any indication that she may not be herself, you may simply send an owl."

   There's the sound of breaking glass from behind him, and Felix turns instinctively to find Dumbledore ducking swiftly from the room. He nods at Felix sombrely.

   "Mr Rosier, Miss Windsong has asked if you would speak to her before you leave. Although," he smiles, the expression not meeting his eyes, "You may be required to duel Healer Early for that particular privilege."

-

   Felix creeps around the edge of the door cautiously and runs straight into the irate healer.

   "Young man, Miss Windsong needs rest just now," she pronounces in clipped tones.

   From behind her, Juniper's wobbly voice says, "Miss Windsong is right here and she's fine."

   "You are most assuredly not fine," the healer snaps. "It's a marvel you're awake at all. I wouldn't have put any money on it."

   "I've been through worse," Juniper insists.

   Fury snorts from the healer's nostrils like a Chinese Fireball. "I sincerely doubt that."

   Recognising a brick wall, Juniper changes tact in a heartbeat.

   "Please, Healer Early. I've been through a lot the last day and I just want to speak to a friend for a few minutes. You know, to help calm myself down before I go back to sleep."

   Felix hides his smirk behind a closed fist, feigning a cough, while Healer Early narrows her eyes at Juniper suspiciously. She glances at the trainee healer clearing up broken glass by the bedside table, and spins on her heel to face Felix again.

   "Five minutes. Not a second more." She pushes past him forcefully and marches from the room. Felix can hear her footsteps rage down the hall even as he takes the seat beside the bed.

   "Is everything alright?" he asks without thinking. "With Dumbledore I mean. Was he angry?"

   "No, not particularly, he's used to me by now I suppose. Didn't even take any house points. But never mind that," Juniper waves the topic aside with a shaking hand. "I forgot to ask how your interview went?"

   Her face is more alive than Felix has seen it since her attack, and nerves squirm pleasantly in the region of his abdomen.

   "As expected," he says casually.

   "Ugh," Juniper groans in mock frustration. “Isn't it considered ungentlemanly to keep a lady in suspense? Especially after she's nearly been killed?" 

   Felix matches Juniper's ironic expression, with the addition of one arched eyebrow.

   "How many times do you plan on using that?"

   "As many as I can before the novelty wears off." She grins, and it cracks his cool mask.

   "I was accepted, of course."

   Juniper laughs, a sound of joy that wavers only slightly, and something about her enthusiasm is catching. The sight of her so much better than yesterday unravels the knot of worry inside him and for the first time he's able to feel the full excitement of his achievement.

   “Felix, that’s incredible! When do you start?”

   "Tomorrow, actually," he says, and has to fight to keep giddy elation from his voice.

   "Tomorrow?" Juniper's eyes widen in alarm. "What on earth are you doing here, then? You should be getting ready!"

   And it suddenly occurs to Felix how very unprepared he is to start a brand new position in less than twenty-four hours. He hasn't had a moment to look through any of the documents the liaison had given him, hasn't replenished any of his supplies or had any of his clothes repaired. He feels dizzy under this sudden avalanche of new worries, and he wonders vaguely when the last time he ate was.

   "I've...got time," he says evasively, and Juniper rolls her eyes.

   "Oh please, Felix. You know you’ll want to make a packing list and go over it at least three times. And you like to arrive early to get a lay of the land before you start. I'm surprised you didn't leave as soon as the interview was over." Felix glows a little at how well she knows him.

   "I needed to check on you first."

   Juniper makes a scoffing sound reminiscent of Healer Early's. "Felix, I'm fine. Yes, yes, I know I'm hurt," she admits quickly over his light protests, "I mean, I'll be fine. I'm sure that healer's exaggerating a bit. Bet I'm good as new by the end of the summer."

   The trainee healer makes a small, strangled noise and Juniper glances at him defiantly.

   "I mean, she didn't think I'd ever wake up, did she?" she fires at the nervous young man. "I managed that, didn't I? I always do. So go!" She commands the last to Felix gesturing toward the door.

   Felix stands reluctantly. The letter is still stuffed into his inner pocket. Felix can feel the slight shape of the crumpled parchment against his side. But he can't give that bit of rubbish to her now. He shoots a dark look at the trainee, now wringing his hands uncomfortably. Why is there always someone around when he needs to say a proper goodbye to Juniper?

   "Wait," she struggles into a sitting position, and holds out her arms toward him with a smile. "Come here." His obedience is automatic.

   It's a weaker embrace than what they shared just days ago. Juniper's arms can't clutch him to her quite as tightly, and Felix's touch is delicate for fear of hurting her. But it feels so good to be pressed against her again, and he soaks up every ounce of closeness he can. She pulls away almost reluctantly, and the way her eyes linger on his lips as she looks at him...Felix wishes he knew a spell to capture that precise expression. In that moment, he is positive Juniper wants to kiss him. He knows it with the same certainty he knows his own feelings. And that knowledge is enough. For now.

   "You'll write and tell me how you're doing?" he asks.

   "Of course," she agrees.

   The trainee healer clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. And it isn't until Felix is back in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, rushing to put together everything he'll need to begin the job he's dreamed of his entire life, that he wonders how Juniper will be able to hold a quill. 

-

Read Chapter 6 | View all stories on the Masterpost

[goodmorningawfulbye]

Bequeathal, Betrothal, Betrayal

Why fear the gods when you can become one?

When Miel had woken up at her noon alarm that day, she was surprised to find Prompto in her bed, leafing through one of her books.

“Your little notes in the margins are so cute,” he said, before anything else.

She blinked at him silently, still mentally scrambling for why she was waking up to this. Granted, it was a dear dream of hers, but now that it was happening, she was confused. Okay, so they had kissed, and… more, but wasn’t he supposed to have left before even that? Why was he dawdling, staying in her twin bed, under her covers, reading her books? Reading her margin notes in her books?

She didn’t get an answer, or even ask the question, because as she lay there blinking and looking into his eyes, he smiled. “Also, good afternoon.” Then he leaned down and kissed her, and she let him, even slid her fingers into his hair and shut her eyes, sighing. Because she wanted this. She just wasn’t sure she was supposed to have it.

But that was six months ago. He lived with her now, still sleeping in the twin bed (they fit perfectly if he slept on her chest or they spooned), still reading her books. Sometimes he left for days at a time, sometimes she stayed awake for 36 hours, ignoring her alarms and flicking the UV lamps on and off as needed, desperate for real sunlight.  

And one day, she snuck off to a cave she’d heard was nearby.

Prompto had told her it was cold, but he never wore sleeves, so maybe it wasn’t that bad. Still, she slipped on a down vest, over a thick sweater. Better too warm than too cold. She threw one more equally-thick layer on over that, then headed out.

It really was cold in there, thank the gods she’d put on so many layers. It was also pretty creepy. Cold and unnerved, she kept walking, careful footsteps on the damp ground. She wished she hadn’t come alone. But Prompto was off with Ignis and Gladio, and who else would she bring with her? Who else would she want with her?

Delph. That’s who. But Delph wasn’t around, either.

Miel made it to the center of the cave, where surely something had once been held (Prompto had said something, something royal arms, but it was so late the night they’d talked about it that she struggled to remember even that. Still, as she shivered, she saw that still, the room did hold something.

Not a weapon. A woman.

Miel sank to her knees to get on eye-level with the woman, who sat curled against a wall, one knee under her chin, the other bent out to the side, so her legs formed a right angle under her skirt.

“Hey,” Miel said, voice soft as a feather, “what are you doing here? Are you okay?”

The woman met Miel’s gaze then, and the pair looked each other over, the both of them dirty and red-cheeked from the chill air. The woman wore significantly less clothing than Miel (did no one entering this cave ever wear sleeves?), so Miel shirked her outer layer, a thick shawl, and wrapped it around the woman’s shoulders. She pulled it tighter, and up over her mouth, brow furrowing as if she were deep in thought. “Well, that settles it,” the woman said finally.

Miel looked at her, confused, until the woman stood up, her skirt unfolding from her lap to billow to the floor, pooling around her feet. The hem of the dress was damp from the ground, and smeared with dirt and grass stains, but not the local reddish dirt.

The woman clutched the shawl, then let it flutter to the ground, revealing a set of folded golden wings peeking out from behind her elbows, and her dress was no longer a faded, dirty pink, but radiant, the shade of pink that the sky turned at dawn on some late fall mornings.

She fixed her gaze on Miel, and took one decisive step toward her, a slightly curled hand extended. When her hand touched Miel’s face, the winged woman drew a triangle on Miel’s forehead with her thumb. She pulled Miel towards her and kissed where Miel still felt the woman’s touch.

Suddenly, Miel felt warm. Not overheated, just as if she were wrapped in the coziest of her blankets, seated in the sunshine.

Oh, she missed sunshine.

But she also felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t remember starting to cry, it had just happened. She fished her phone out of her pocket, looking at its dark screen as a reflective surface, to find her eyes were not her own. They were pure green, the color of precious stones, pupilless, and still, tears flowed from them, faster than Miel could wipe them away.

She blinked, and her eyes returned to normal, the rich brown at their center ringing her pupil again.

The winged woman pulled Miel to her, whispering. “I am Delta Dolorosa, Mother, Warrior, Lover, Queen. Once a divine force, now but a shadow of what I had been. I needed someone like me to be my avatar in this world as I seek to remove what harm was done to it. You have been chosen.”

Miel didn’t struggle through all this, as the sensation of basking in sunshine only got stronger the closer she got to… Delta. But even so, through the warmth, there was a weight settling into her chest.

“I would congratulate you on such an honor,” Delta continued, “but I know it’s not. I know the burden I’ve placed on you. I’m so sorry. I would ask you to accept my task of mothering the orphaned of this world, but seeing the company you’ve kept your entire life, I see that you’ve done that as best you could already. Prompto… Delphine… Acheta. You’ve such love in you, Miel Lux. I think you’ll be me just fine.”

Delta let Miel go then, a sadness in her eyes Miel was almost scared to acknowledge, for fear that her eyes would look that way soon. As she was released, the weight on Miel’s chest increased, and suddenly she recognized it as a sucking sense of deep loss.

She had felt this before. She had still felt it a little bit before she had met Delta.

“You have not born and will not have to bear the full weight of my soul yet,” Delta elaborated. “A time will come where you may, but not yet. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Miel nodded.

“For now, I ask that you seek happiness. Prompto should be coming home soon, right? And there’s something you’ve been meaning to ask him.”

Miel nodded again, muted by something like shock. Maybe it was just the lump in her throat, the sorrow settling into her bones.

Delta hugged her again, and then faded away in a shower of golden light. The closest thing Miel had seen to sunshine in a long time.

The next day, as Prompto hung onto her waist as they careened along a dusty road through the bluffs, she spoke nearly into the wind.

“Hey, Prompto?”

“Hmm?” He asked, lips on the back of her neck.

“Do you want to…” She sighed. “Will you marry me?”

“Will I what?”

“Will you, Prompto Argentum, marry me, Miel Lux?”

He stammered, and opened and closed his mouth a few times. Miel felt it on her neck. “I—Yeah. I will. Let’s do it.”

At least you get what I never did in my time amongst mortals, a voice Miel recognized as herself, but that wasn’t her own voice, echoed in her mind, someone who’s willing to marry you.

_

It wasn’t until a few weeks after the official wedding that it hit her.

It was sunset, and she hopped on her bike and rode out to the middle of nowhere, and threw herself off the bike, caring little for any scrapes she got from the brush or dirt, or burns from the bike’s parts.

She didn’t care anymore. She sat in the dirt, legs crossed, and suddenly, the tears came.

She knew she had no right to be sobbing before night had even fallen, mere weeks after her wedding. To a new life lived in the sun, she’d said. But now she’d made her choice, and in public, and Delphine had arrived to celebrate with her—with them—and Miel hadn’t realized then.

This sent a message to Delphine—Miel had made her choice. And it wasn’t Delph.

Miel had been twelve when she realized wanting to stay with Delphine for as long as she was allowed was more than just friendly feelings. She had seen it in Prompto with Noctis, and she had accepted it. She had accepted in herself that her feelings for Prompto didn’t affect her feelings for Delphine, but she hadn’t known, almost 18 years ago, that it was going to hurt so bad later on when she’d foolishly made a decision between them. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking.

Had she really thought that she could have her cake in Prompto and eat it in Delphine?

Maybe deep down, she had known this day was always coming, and thought impulse would carry her through it until she felt nothing, or she’d have been over one of them by the time it was her cue to decide for the other.

But it didn’t, and she wasn’t, and the day had come, and she’d fucked it up irrevocably.

She had felt so joyful and alive when Delphine had arrived at the reception, and bolted over to her, so glad to see her, to hug her, again. When Prompto wrapped an arm around Delphine, too, Miel had finally felt complete again.

Having drunk as much as she had at the reception, she’d almost kissed Delphine. She wished now she had, if only so she could have known the catharsis of 18 years of feelings.

Now she never would. She’d made her choice.

Miel searched for a rock near her feet with bleary eyes, and finding one, flung it as far from her as she could manage. It sailed through the air and clattered somewhere over the next tiny bluff.

She let out another miserable sob. It was so cruel of her, to have called Prompto the love of her life like that, married him twice, and now resent that he was keeping her from being with Delphine.

She sobbed vocally now, sharp little puffs of her voice coming out as her diaphragm contracted. Her heart was so heavy, it should have dragged her into the dirt.

What an idiot, she thought, crying alone out in the desert bluffs because she had done something stupid and couldn’t clean it up. But it hurt.

Maybe I’m the Calamity I keep trying to protect these worlds from, the echo of her-but-not mused. A fresh wave of tears flowed, and she lay in the dirt as she shook with the sobs.

Her body, her heart, warmed as a cool maternal hand brushed back flyaway hairs from her forehead. “Oh, Miel. The Lover part of my title is hard. I know. I’m sorry.” Delta looked up to the rising moon. “I never got to be with everyone I loved, either. At least this is all my soul carries, on your shoulders now.”

Miel opened her eyes and looked at the sky, speckled with stars. Like Prompto’s freckles, she thought, a wet giggle almost escaping her throat.  She looked over towards the moon, trying to forget every thought she’d ever had after the Fall where she had looked up, looked at her last message from Delphine and whispered, “at least we’re under the same moon still.”

Delta had disappeared in another shower of light while Miel had been battling her own memories.

She huffed. She could and would have to live like this. She had promised Delphine a place with her and Prompto (and they were talking about a bigger bed to fit her into it), and gods damn it, Miel meant it. In her bed, in her home, in fact, wherever the Lux-Argentums called home, Delphine could stay, too.

Miel would just have to pack away her desires, her broken heart. She had a husband, whom she loved, despite her heartbreak about what she’d lost in exchange, to be a wife to. She had a job to do as an avatar of Delta, whatever that meant, other than living with all this loss for the rest of her life.

And she had a friend to support, whom she loved more than anything, more than she’d realized.

She wiped her eyes and clambered back up onto her bike.

She had to save the world. And she guessed she’d start with herself, and “the orphaned” she’d lived her life with so far.  

[coldace24]

After The Machine War; Code V.I.S.U.A.L.

The descent felt nerve wracking, both because it was a long fall, and because I was headed to unknown territory alone. Inside the drop pod, there was only darkness, where each shudder and quake could be felt as metal cut through air. Without warning, the impact came, and as unprepared as I was, I accidentally bit my lip. I could feel the pod roll around a few times, tossing and turning me around, almost making me feel nauseous, when it finally stopped and settled.

Hydraulics took over and the pod exhumed air, opening the door in front of me and pushing me out. Sand was the first thing I saw, falling towards it and landing on it face first. I sat up and brushed it off while I scanned my surroundings, soon realizing that I was in the midst of a large, windy desert, with the sun glaring from up high. The pod's hydraulics started to work again, opening up its side, revealing a gun rack with two Desert Eagle magnum handguns; one jet black, and the other metallic white.

They've been upgraded to match the advanced mainframe, huh. I thought to myself as I holstered them, noticing how they've become a bit bulkier than last time. It was around that moment when I realized that my body felt lighter than usual, and I had more strength in my arms and legs; perhaps the high specs of the mainframe allowed for a greater range of movement.

I checked the comms line on my earpiece, but all I gathered were static noises on every channel. Either the area was a shadow zone where our signal couldn't reach, or there was signal jamming within the vicinity. The latter had a higher probability.

Sand was starting to gather around my feet, hinting that staying at my current location would have me buried under the sands in no time. From far away, I could make out the silhouette of a structure, perhaps a building of sorts, and seeing how there was nothing else around me but sand, I decided it was best to head towards that way. At the start of my jog, just a few steps from where I started, I noticed a glint coming from a mound of sand in front of me. Interest and curiosity took over, and I started digging through it and found a small card-like chip, around the size of a coin; on its surface were the faded letters O, S, and C. Figuring I might have a use for it sooner or later, I stuffed it inside my pocket and continued on walking.

The huge silhouette turned out to be the ruins of an old building, with sand starting to cover half its surface as if slowly being swallowed. Somewhere along its side was a crack on the wall large enough for me to fit through, leading to a small room inside. I went in and sat down on the floor, taking quick breaths and resting after the long walk under the scorching sun. From the corner of my eye, I noticed something buried along the piled up sand in the corner of the room. There was a large, black container, somehow resembling a wide refrigerator, propped up against the wall. Again, curiosity prevailed, so I approached the container and brushed off the sand on its surface, revealing distorted inscriptions; the only letter I could make out was a large Y, and the rest were all smudges.

Beside its door-like structure was a busted screen, some buttons, and a blinking green light. I thought perhaps the container might have some things I could make use of, so I tinkered with it to try and get it to open. With a random mash of all the available buttons, the door's hydraulics started to move, releasing air and finally opening upward. What awaited inside was a surprise; a body of a woman. She had silver hair, and wore a black, gothic dress, reminiscent of that of a french maid. It was hard to tell if she was alive or not, as there was no visible movement, yet her skin felt warm and alive when I touched. Her eyes were covered by a black blindfold, and that somehow made me want to take a peek. As my fingers neared the dark cloth, the container started to buzz, making me jump back in surprise.

"<Visual Data Output Error>" The container started to speak in a raspy, robotic voice.

"<Switching To Audio Data Output>"

"<Commencing Systems Check>"

"<Error>"

"<OS Chip Unavailable>"

"<Awaiting Input>"

"<...>"

A small hatch opened up beneath the broken screen, revealing a small, black box, around the size of a fist. The box popped up and from its surface, opened up a small slot.

"OS Chip...?" I thought to myself. It was then that I remembered about the card I picked up on the way. I pulled it out from my pocket, and inspected the letters written on its surface.

"O-S-C.... OS Chip...?"

I held it up against the slot on the black box, and surprisingly, it seemed like a perfect fit, so I pushed it in and waited for the magic to happen. The box swallowed it and closed the slot, then pulled back into the hatch.

"<Input Accepted...>"

"<Restarting Operations...>"

"<...>"

The green light started to blink furiously.

"<Commencing Systems Check>"

"<Memory Unit: Green>"

"<Initializing Tactics Log>"

"<Loading Geographic Data>"

"<Vitals: Green>"

"<Remaining MP: 100%>"

"<Black Box Temperature: Normal>"

"<Black Box Internal Pressure: Normal>"

"<Activating IFF>"

"<Activating FCS>"

"<Initializing Pod Connection>"

"<Launching DBU Setup>"

"<Activating Inertia Control System>"

"<Activating Environmental Sensors>"

"<Equipment Authentication: Complete>"

"<Equipment Status: Green>"

"<All Systems Green>"

"<Combat Preparations Complete>"

"<...>"

The hatch opened again and the black box popped out, though this time it sat still, as if waiting for it to be taken. I slowly reached out to it, and just as my finger touched it, a white blur snatched it away.

"You should be well advised to refrain contact with another android's black box." Said a feminine voice from beside me. The woman who had been motionless a while ago was now standing in front of me, the black box on her white-gloved hand. I jumped back, quickly unholstered my handguns, and aimed at her, but before I could figure out her intent, she had already hidden the black box out of my sight. She turned to me, and continued to stare for a few moments.

"Why are you aiming at me?" She asked. "Are we not both Androids, and as such, allies?"

Then, as if remembering something, she jerked back, moving into a fighting stance resembling martial arts; her feet planted hard on the ground, and her fists raised towards me.

"You...don't tell me you have the logic virus." She said, sounding a bit desperate.

"The what?" Her statement had me confused, all the more that she had labeled me as an android. For a while, she seemed to stare at me, though quite frankly I wasn't sure because of the blindfold, and after a few moments, her shoulders seemed to relax.

"It seems not." She gave out a sigh of relief and dropped her fists. "Your eyes aren't red."

"Sorry, but...I have no idea about what you just said." I remarked as I holstered the handguns. "And just to put it out there, I'm not an android. I'm human."

"Human....?" Her tone sounded of disbelief. "Impossible. Humans went extinct a long time ago."

"But it's true. I swear."

She turned towards me and walked closer to inspect, her lips pressed together in doubt as she started to analyze.

"I cannot seem to detect any electromagnetic emissions from within you, nor do I find any implications of cybernetics to your body." Her lips opened up, as if in awe, as she started to reach out to my face. "Is that...blood?"

Her hand touched my face, wiping off the blood on my lip with her thumb, then bringing it closer to her face.

"It seems genuine. Perhaps you speak the truth." She said as she stepped back.

"Do you mind explaining things to me? I'm kind of confused with what you've been saying." I asked.

"Were you not aware of the machine war?" She waited for my reply, but all I had was silence, so she continued. "For years, we Androids have been fighting against Machines, puppets that the aliens use, so that we may take back the earth for mankind. But by the end of the fourteenth machine war, we learned that humans had long been extinct, and thus, we lost our purpose."

"But we aren't extinct. I'm human, and I'm here. Well and Alive." I said as I pointed to myself.

"Then perhaps our fight wasn't in vain after all." She seemed to smile as she spoke. From behind her, she pulled out the black box, and started to inspect it.

"So what is that black box?" I asked.

"This black box is the core of an android. It is what contains our systems and data, and in some cases, our last resort." She explained as she held it up to eye level. "I'd like to thank you for reactivating me. Though, I'm afraid there might have been some complications."

"Complications?" My eyebrows furrowed. "But that black uh...thingy said all systems were green."

"It's true that I am at operational level, and my functionality is of expected values." She started moving her arms around. "But this body...this isn't mine."

"Uhhh...what?"

"I've run a check on its digital signatures, and the results show this belonged to <YoRHa No. 2 Type B> an all-purpose battle type android of YoRHa." She started tinkering with the black box. "This body was a spare, and coincidentaly, it was missing its OS Chip."

"Then who are you? I mean, you know, the one I put in the body."

"<YoRHa No. 11 Type G> specialized long-range gunner type android of YoRHa."

"I...see...nice to meet you then. I'm Ray by the way." I held out my hand for a handshake, but all she did was stare at me. For a moment, there was an awakward silence between us, then I decided to retract my hand.

"So this Yo-.....the owner of that body-" I quickly followed up to break the ice.

"2B. Her callsign." She corrected me.

"This 2B, what happened to her?"

"From what I can gather from the data left, it seems she had fallen to the logic virus just like the rest of the androids."

"And...what's the logic virus, exactly?"

"A virus created by the machines that forced androids to attack their own allies."

"I see. So, how come you're not affected by the virus?"

"Before the virus reached my core, I ejected my OS Chip to prevent the virus from taking over my body." There was a brief pause, then she continued. "I...didn't want to kill my comrades."

She seemed fidgety, like how humans get when they're anxious, and didn't want to talk about things, so I decided not to pry any further about it. It occured to me that perhaps she had information about my mission that I could use, so I started asking her about it.

"Um, Miss...."

"You can call me 11G (Eleven G)." She smiled a bit.

"Uh...Miss 11G, do you know anything about a singularity virus?"

"Is that a jest?" Her lips pursed

"I'm...actually serious. I'm not talking about the logic virus you had mentioned earlier, I'm talking about a virus that stands independently on its own. It can even control other viruses, and sometimes machines."

"I'm afraid I have no data of such a virus." She shook her head.

"I see. That's too bad then." Of course it wouldn't be that easy, I thought to myself.

"I may not have the information you're looking for, but I can offer you my assistance in searching." She said as she took a step closer towards me. "I was created to serve mankind. Order me so, and I shall assist you."

"You'll help me?" I asked.

She gave me a nod, then she closed her feet together and placed her left hand over her chest.

"Glory to mankind."

° ° °

"You said you were a gunner type, right?" I asked her as we started walking out into the desert.

"Affirmative."

"Well if that's how it is, then I'm lending you Columba." I said as I handed her the white handgun.

"This is..." She took the gun and inspected it. "This seems to be an obsolete model. I am unsure of its efficiency."

"Yeah well, it gets the job done." I grinned. "You'd be surprised at how effective it is when shooting through armor."

I took off one of the holsters and gave it to her along with a couple of magazines for extra ammunition. She strapped it onto her right leg where her skirt had a large, open slit, placing it just a few inches below her hips. We went on walking for a while, with her guiding me towards the edge of the desert until we finally made it out into hard, solid ground, surrounded by large rocks, as if they'd been formed into walls, leading us down a path that brought us through a cavern and out into the open city, or at least what was left of it.

The area was a literal concrete jungle; old, ruined buildings and towers were riddled with plant life, overgrown grass was spreading out everywhere, and trees seemed to reach out towards the skies.

"So tell me, how do you see with that blindfold on?" I asked her as we walked inside the jungle-city.

"This is a standard military visor for YoRHa Androids." She said as she placed her finger on it. "It allows us to see data along with our vision. It does not actually hinder our sight, but rather enhances it."

"A blindfold visor, huh?" I gave out a small laugh. "That's kinda cool."

From the corner of my eye, I could see her hiding a smile, and that made me wonder just how much an android could seem so human. Along our path, we stumbled upon chunks of metal, one of them was a round piece with slits that seemed to produce a face, something like a mask of sorts. I noticed that the pieces lying around seemed to mimic robotic limbs, and that perhaps, if put together would form something.

"These are machines." Said 11G as she kicked over what seemed like a robot's leg. "Though they're only remains, and are dysfunctional."

"These were what you fought against?" I picked up the metal mask, showing it to her as I asked the question, and she, in turn, nodded.

"Well, let's just be glad we don't have to fight them anymore." I threw the mask away and continued on walking. The metal mask clanged and rolled until it bumped against another piece, then from its slits came out oil, dripping across its surface, as if it was crying. The sound of metal scraping against concrete rose in volume, catching our attention and making us turn around. In front of us stood a few dozen mangled robots; most made from scrap metal pieced together, some missing their limbs and other parts but somehow holding up. The slits that acted as their eyes seemed to glow red as oil trickled down from them.

"...Ki...ll...Kill...Kill...Kill..." The machines started to screech the words over and over again as they started approaching us, arms extended with the murderous intent. From beside me, came a gunfire, followed by the sound of a metal clang in front. One of the mangled machines had fallen down, with a hole between its dead eyes. I turned towards the android, just in time to see her fire three more shots, putting down three other machines. I quickly unholstered my gun and started shooting too, taking down one machine for each bullet.

After firing off seven shots, I popped the magazine for a quick reload, when one of them sprung up on me from my side. Before it could reach me, the android burrowed her heel on the machine's face, with force strong enough to split the metal creature in two, sending it flying in pieces. From behind her came two more, jumping with arms extended for the kill. With her free hand, she grabbed the first one and slammed it to the ground, crumpling it, then with her planted arm, she lifted her lower body, pivoting around to perform a spinning kick, breaking the other machine. Upon setting down her feet to the ground, she had her gun pointed at the remaining machines, firing off the remaining ammunition in her magazine.

Amused at her performance and display of skill, I decided not to hold back. The bracers on my hand extended, forming metal gauntlets that covered my hands; along with my metal boots, my brawling set was complete and ready to go all out. I rushed at one of the machines, sweeping its legs, and as it fell, I grabbed it by the arm and flung it to another machine, shooting through both of them with a single bullet. Another machine rushed at me, which I intercepted with a simple left jab. Upon impact, the gauntlet's mechanism clicked, releasing a force like a pile driver slamming down on concrete, pummeling the machine into a crumpled mess.

We started picking off the machines around two or three at a time with a combination of brawling and shooting, until all that was left of the machines were crumpled scraps of junk. I took a deep breath as I holstered the gun and turned towards 11G, who in turn was kneeling down on the ground inspecting the remains.

"I thought you said they were dysfunctional." I questioned her.

"I do not understand. How could they have moved?" She sounded puzzled, and I was sure that if I could see beneath her visor, her eyebrows would have been furrowed.

"It's just a theory but...it might be because of the singularity virus." I quoted to ease her confusion.

"Then it is nearby?"

"Not sure. For all we know, it can control things from a mile away. That's the problem with singularities, they're unpredictable, and they're never the same with any other."

"...I see. That's quite problematic."

"Yeah." I retracted my gauntlet and held out my hand to her. "Come on, we've got a lot of area to search through."

There was silence as I waited for her to reach out to my gesture; this time, not retracting my hand as I waited patiently. I wasn't sure if she understood what my intent was, but I had hoped she would at least discover what it meant. Then finally, after a few moments, she started to reach out her hand and placed it over mine. Grasping gently, I pulled her up until she stood just a few inches in front of me; probably close enough for her to feel my breath. Perhaps too close.

I could see features of her eyes through the visor, which was more transparent up close than I expected. She cleared her throat, which is probably something that androids don't do, or don't need to do, so I took that as a hint and stepped back.

For the next few moments, we continued to walk, our hands still holding on to each other. Unsure if it was her intention, or if she even noticed or not, I went along with it quietly. We had almost reached the end of the city, where the edge seemed to be a cliff that dropped down towards an area filled with fog.

A few meters towards it, trailing behind the pretty android in front of me, I noticed the ground shook a little. I turned to her, but she didn't seem to notice. Then, another shake, this time a tad bit stronger, followed by another one of much greater force.

"What IS that?" I pulled back her hand, to which she turned to me in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Can't you feel it?" I asked, sounding a bit anxious. "The ground...it's shaking."

She knelt down, feeling the ground with her free hand while the other still held mine. In the next few moments, the shaking of the ground arrived in waves, like an earthquake sending out ripples through the earth. Before I could ask anything, she tackled me away, about a good five meters from where we previously were. A heavy shockwave sent dirt flying everywhere, and in front of us, on the spot where we were before, was a hulking mass of scrap metal. A machine, standing around twelve feet tall, had landed with great impact, it's hands the size of a sedan, and its red eyes, trickling oil down its metal face, was glaring daggers at us.

The static noises in my earpiece started to spike, like the screeching of a wild animal. This thing's the signal jammer? I looked up at the monster in front of me once more.

"You've gotta be kidding me..." The words just spilled out of my mouth. The android pulled me up to stand, and as the towering machine took its first step towards us, she tightened her grip on my hand.

"Alright then..." I said as I squeezed back. How about you and I bring this big baddie down, huh?"

She smirked at my statement, and I couldn't help but laugh. As it approached us, we drew our handguns and all hell broke loose. A gigantic fist came crashing down on us, but we were quick enough to seperate and dodge aside. I aimed and pulled the trigger, puncturing holes on the side of its humongous body, but that didn't even faze it. It kept its sight locked onto 11G, swinging around its metal arms like an angry gorilla. The android kept pace, dodging away at the last second of every strike. At each time she dodged, her whole body seemed to blur, and it's as if mirror images of her appear, making her harder to track, even for me.

A disgruntled bellow came from the metal creature as it pulled back its right arm and smashed its knuckle towards the android's direction. Dust filled the air, then from it emerged 11G, running on top of the machine's arm as she aimed at its head, emptying a whole magazine and filling its face with holes. As it tried to swat her away, I hurriedly ran towards the metal creature's leg, extending my gauntlets and throwing a jab at its ankle joint. The gauntlet's mechanism clicked, shoving extensive force upon the interlinked metal, crumpling it like tin can. The loud noise of creaking metal filled the air, and the metal giant's body slowly descended. I quickly ran to safety, and from the corner of my eye, I saw the android jump off and roll away as the hunking mass of metal crashed onto the ground, spilling dirt everywhere. In just a matter of moments, before the dust could even settle, the machine started to push itself back up with its arms. I searched for 11G, but the dust  was making it hard to see. Then, from behind me, I heard her voice.

"We're not done here yet."

I turned around to find the android, alive and still in one piece, but her black dress was torn up in places, and her blindfold visor was missing. Gazing at me were her brilliant blue eyes that were the shade of the sky, and I was at a loss for a moment. The loud screeching of metal grinding together brought me back to my senses.

"What should we do?" I asked her, trying my best not to stare into her eyes.

"We need to crush its head." She answered like it was an easy feat.

"Alright then....how?"

"Give me a boost." She said as she tapped my shoulder and began to ran towards the giant. Along the way, she picked up a thick sheet of metal, then started to climb up the machine's foot. I waited down below, not entirely sure of what to do, when she suddenly jumped down, holding the sheet of metal beneath her feet.

"Give me a boost". Her previous words rung in my head, and I laughed at the thought. For an android, you sure are crazy. I pulled back my right arm, waiting until she was a few feet above me, then slammed my fist at the sheet of metal, activating the gauntlet's mechanism. The force pushed her up, albeit crumpling the sheet of metal in the process, making her fly through the air. Just as the machine was almost upright, 11G's heels fell straight down its face, pushing it back down and slamming its head hard on the ground.

I ran towards the crash site, finding bits and pieces of scrap metal lying around. Again, there was dust everywhere, and visibility was low. I found the machine's face, crushed like a pulp, with bolts and wires sticking out. Just how heavy IS she to be able to crush it this much? After spending a good while inspecting the wreckage, there was still no sign of the android.

"11G!" I started to call out, but there was still no response. Anxiety started to fill me, tightening my chest as I imagined the worst possible scenario.

"Unbelievable." I heard her voice. I turned around to find her stumbling out of the wreckage, a drape of black cloth in her hand. She started to head towards me, looking somehow distressed.

"11G!" I shouted as I ran towards her. "Are you alright?"

She flinched, looking surprised as she met my gaze.

"Y-Yes, I'm alright."

I breath a sigh of relief, placing my hand on her shoulder. "That's good. For a moment there, I thought you were gone."

"I was looking for this." She held up the black cloth to her chest, placing it in my field of vision.

"My visor... It broke." Her lips pursed.

"Oh...that's uh...too bad." I replied awkwardly.

The look on her face suggested she wanted to keep it, but with it having no use anymore, she was at a standstill whether it'd be a good idea to bring it along or not.

"Well, how about we use it like this?" I grabbed the piece of cloth, and proceeded behind her, grabbing a mass of her silver hair and tying it into a ponytail with the cloth. "How's that?"

She turned to me, feeling her new hairstyle with her hands, then giving off a bright smile. Her face had me mesmerized yet again; perhaps it was the near perfection of her innocent eyes, or perhaps the perfect curve her lips make when she smiles. I placed my hands in my pockets, mustering up the guts to ask.

"Um...11G?"

"Yes?"

"Can I call you...Ellie?" I couldn't look her in the eyes as I spoke. "Eleven G is rather lengthy when calling you on the go. I mean, it's cool, but...I thought it might be easier...?"

She laughed. Perhaps the first time I heard her laugh. Then with a bright smile, she gazed at my eyes.

"Of course, if that is what you wish." She closed her feet together and placed her left hand over her chest, doing that odd salute she did before.

"Glory to mankind, huh?" I smiled as she gave out a light chuckle.

"...u...er....me....Ray?" My earpiece started to spew chopped up words. I started walking away from the wreckage towards the cliff to try to get better reception, with Ellie following behind me, still getting a feel of her new hairstyle.

"....Ray, can you hear me...?" The words were clearer now, spoken by a soft female voice.

"This is Ray. Teto, is that you?" I responded.

"Yes! Finally." She sounded overjoyed. "You took so long to respond that we had to send out the rest of the team."

"Sorry, there was signal jamming." I turned to look at the wreckage behind me. "Only got rid of it now."

"Well, at least you're safe... I mean, you are, right?"

"Yup, fit as a fiddle." Then, I recalled her previous statement. "Wait...did you say you sent the rest of the team?"

"Oh, yes. Ryan and Chris are on their way. I updated their waypoints, so they should be landing somewhere in your general vicinity, though I'm not entirely sure how close since your exact position is still hard to pinpoint, but they should be near." I felt a tug at my shirt from behind me.

"Look up there." Ellie pointed up at the sky where two streaks of smoke were decending from the sky towards the foggy area below the cliff where we were. Perhaps a good hundred meters away.

"Are those...drop pods?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Your allies?"

"...my friends." I smiled as I held up my hand in front of her. "Let's go meet them."

She smiled in return as she grabbed my hand.

[PART END]

[hunnybadgerv]

Pyrrhic Victory | Dragon Age: Inquisition

August 26: A Crossover 

(Though I know crossing over two games in the same series is kind of cheating, but that’s what I’m going with. Even though it is kind of canon.)

Summary: The return from the Fade is not the celebration Rhys would have liked.

a/n: This is a partner piece to Waking Nightmare. It kind of fits in the center of the first section of that fic.

Links: AO3 | FFnet

Pyrrhic Victory

-1-

Rhys’ knees crashed against stone, sending a jolt through his legs and a shudder through his body. The crash of shields and clang of swords rang around him, but he paid it no heed, turning back to the rift he stared at the vibrant green. He waited.

One heartbeat. Two. Five.

Finally, he swallowed the acrid lump in his throat and raised his hand. The effort was half-hearted. He hoped, somehow, he’d hear her call out, hear her ask him to wait just one more moment. There was nothing beyond the crackle of the rift, the cold pain in his hand, and the sound of battle around him. With a clap like thunder the rift closed.

The crackling quieted and the lightning faded. A sea of demons fell and dissipated like steam in the breeze; their screeches gave way to the victorious cheers of Wardens.

Despite the rush of victory, a deep hole bored through his chest. He’d left Hawke in the Fade. Guilt hollowed him into a thin shell. She’d come to help and he left her. Still staring at the site where the rift had been, a part of him hoped she would just suddenly appear.

A voice pulled his attention away from the scorched stone; his head snapped to the left. The carnage around them seared into his memory. The ranks of the wardens had been decimated by Corypheus’ ruse and his demons.

“No demon army for Corypheus,” Alistair called out to cheers from the survivors. He hobbled toward the inquisitor with a limp Rhys could not recall having noticed before.

Rhys struggled to find his voice. Eventually, he replied in a quiet tone that only the two of them could hear over the raucousness. “It appears the Divine—or her spirit—was right.”

Alistair nodded. “You know that’s not how they see it, though. They just saw their inquisitor work another miracle.”

“They came out of this alive. As far as I’m concerned, they can tell whatever stories they like,” Rhys spat. He wasn’t a miracle worker. As far as he saw it at that moment, he was a murderer. He’d traded Hawke’s life for his own. He felt like a failure, despite the blow they’d managed to deal.

“I suppose ‘the inquisitor and his warden friend escaped by skin of their teeth’ wouldn’t be as good for morale.”

Light footsteps slapped against the stone as a scout approached them. Rhys sealed his lips into a tight thin line. “Inquisitor, the archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. The Venatori magister is unconscious but alive. Cullen thought you might wish to deal with him yourself. As for the wardens, those who weren’t corrupted helped us fight the demons.”

Cullen. Oh, Maker. Rhys couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about him. How could he tell his commander that he left the love of his life in the Fade to deal with a demon that surely spelled her doom? Every muscle in his body tensed up to keep him upright and his face implacable. What can I say to him?

Just days earlier Cullen had told Rhys how joining the Inquisition changed his life. He’d said that the good far outweighed the inconveniences. When the inquisitor asked what prompted his opinions, Cullen had said that it was the first time he and Hawke had been allowed to share a life rather than having to deal with quick moments of intersection. And I’ve taken that from him, Rhys thought.

Certainly, Cullen could never find it in his heart to forgive him. Rhys was certain, but he had to know the truth.

“We’ve seen no sign of Hawke since you disappeared over the ledge. We assumed she was with you,” Solas asked, stepping forward from the fray and leaning on his staff. Blood streaked across his tunic in places. Rhys couldn’t recall ever having seen Solas marred by the gore of combat before. One sleeve slit open suggested he hadn’t managed to keep his usual distance from the fighting.

A warden stepped forward holding his side. “We stand ready to help make up for Clarel’s … tragic mistake.”

“Where is the Champion? She is not with us,” Cassandra parroted.

Even she would despise him, Rhys worried. She’d sought Hawke out first to lead the Inquisition, before he stumbled into the wrong room at the wrong moment, like some lost child. And, now, he was only be the man who sacrificed the Champion of Kirkwall.

Rhys’ good eye scanned the faces. They were all staring at him. Wanted answers from him, but he didn’t feel like he had any.

“Where’s Hawke?” Varric asked, pushing his way through the crowd.

Everyone who had accompanied Rhys into the Fade looked away, leaving it to Rhys.

“Where is she?” Varric’s voice bore the same tightness Rhys felt in every fiber of his being.

He chewed on his words a moment and tore his eyes away from Varric. His voice carried through the still crowd reverberating off the stonework. “Hawke sacrificed her life to save us and strike a decisive blow against Corypheus.”

“The Champion is gone.” Cassandra said, her voice somewhere between a question and a statement.

“She gave her life not because she’d sworn an oath or been marked as special, but because someone had to do it,” Rhys told the crowd again.

Varric said nothing, but Rhys noticed him push his way back through the crowd. His heart ached for his friend. Hell, he’d only known Aderyn for a handful of months and came to care for her and call her friend.

The warden stepped forward again. “Alistair, you’re the senior surviving Grey Warden. What do we do now?”

Alistair’s gaze turned to Rhys. The inquisitor was almost grateful for the change of topic.

“You stay and do whatever you can to help. Alistair believes that the wardens are worth saving … and I trust him. You’re still vulnerable to Corypheus, and possibly his Venatori, but there are plenty of demons that need killing.”

Solas sighed and shook his head.

“After all that, you give them yet another chance?” Cole questioned more harshly than Rhys could ever recall hearing from the spirit before. “But they hurt people.”

Alistair ignored the outbursts. “While they do that, I’ll report to the wardens at Weisshaupt. Corypheus won’t catch us with our trousers down again.”

The warden looked up at Rhys then bowed. “Thank you, Your Worship. We will not fail you.”

“Good luck, Inquisitor,” Alistair said, stepping forward and clapping Rhys on the shoulder. “Tell Morrigan … ah, just tell here I stood there looking foolish.” He flashed a wry smile at Rhys, who couldn’t find enough joy in his being at the moment to return it in any way.

Cassandra’s hand replaced Alistair’s once the warden walked away to gather his men.

Rhys looked over at her. She didn’t need to say it. He knew what hollow look in her eyes meant. Rhys shook his head, then changed his mind and nodded. “Please. He likely won’t want speak to me again once I tell him this.”

  -2-

The magister despite his unconscious state had been bound and gagged at Cullen’s insistence and Dorian’s instruction. His men had done good work given how little they had to work with—the makeshift arm spreader and leather gag hadn’t been a challenge, but the silk to bind his hands into fists. Dorian had been forced to sacrifice his own sash for the purpose and did so more than happily, to Cullen’s surprise.

“Some causes are greater than fashion,” the mage had joked with the commander.

The former templar watched over both his men and their charges. His attention turned for a moment when he heard the clamor of cheers behind him.

But there was something about the thin lips and the tight trudging walk of the inquisitor that struck Cullen deeply. His eyes moved past Rhys to Cassandra, then sought any trace of wispy red waves that he should find at their sides.

“Cullen,” Rhys said when he reached him.

There was something laced into that single word that confirmed every latent fear Cullen Rutherford had carried since that bright day near the stream when he first fell into those pale blue eyes and drown.

He tried to speak, but no sound issued from his voice. Cullen just shook his head. Then took a step back, shaking his head. “No.”

“Aderyn sacrificed—”

“No!” the commander yelled in an uncharacteristically undignified way.

He could hear her voice. Just days earlier she’d promised she’d always be there with him. This could not have been what she meant.

“She saved us all.”

Cullen glared at Rhys. Fire burned beneath his skin and threatened to consume him. “Not all,” he growled. With that he turned his back on the inquisitor and walked away. He couldn’t bring himself to speak to the man, not now. If he did, he would regret every word.

Cassandra’s voice and orders to his men barely crested above the sound of his pulse. He stared out over the gulf beyond the walls that the inquisitor, Aderyn, and the others had fallen into when the dragon attacked.

At that moment, he’d thought he lost her. Then they heard the thunderclap of the rift closing and the cheering. He’d let himself hope, which just made it worse.

She’d never broken a promise to him, even the foolish impossible ones. Of course, even he knew that for all her power, she was human. And death didn’t play favorites.

Cullen fought quake in his bones. He could not falter before his men. Taking in a slow, deep breath of the chilled desert night air, he gathered some semblance of his trademark calm and turned to find himself alone on the wall. Cassandra leaned near the top of the stairs. Varric stood opposite her, looking much as shattered as Cullen felt.

The commander felt his eyes sting and his tongue tasted metallic, but with a blink and an exhale. He exerted every ounce of control he could muster over himself and walked toward them. “We should gather the troops and head back to Skyhold before daybreak,” he suggested.

Cassandra nodded and started down the stairs.

“Hey, Curly.”

Cullen stopped, swallowed, and looked at Varric.

“I’m sorry.”

With a tight throat, the commander just nodded at the dwarf and set off in Cassandra’s wake. He could grieve later.

[systemfailuresunshine]

The Mission - Elsa Chapter 15

Author: @systemfailuresunshine

Summary: Year-round fluff for a soldier who just needs a hug, starting at Christmas! The Avengers find the facility, and Bucky has only one thing on his mind…

Word Count: 2461

Warning(s): I want to say none but I’m gonna put swearing just in case. Choking maybe? Graphic-ish descriptions of violence

A/N: 1114 hits! Oh my goodness. I know I haven’t updated the original Elsa in a while and I’m sorry but I have now finished the 4000 word report that’s been plaguing me for the last few weeks so hopefully, there will now be more Elsa more often (but please don’t hold me to that) x

The Quinjet touched down in a deserted field and the Avengers gathered at the back of the Jet, ready to go. They could see the compound from the air, but seemed to have landed without attracting any unwanted attention.

“Right, do we all know the plan?” Steve asked.  

There were nods of agreement around him.

“Sam: take Redwing and scout out the area. Let us know the stats, what exactly we’re up against. Tony, Thor and I will be the first line of defence. Bruce: give ‘em hell but remember we need the Tesseract and the Stone intact. Vision: find a way in. Buck, Clint, Nat, Wanda: we’ll call you when we’re in. (Y/N) will be listening in so try not to make her too anxious.”

Back at the Tower, you rolled your eyes.

“I heard that,” Steve joked.  

“How are you, little one?” came Thor’s voice through the comms.  

Putting down your book and sitting up from your place on the couch, you smiled.  

“I’m not supposed to talk to you guys,” you replied. “That was Steve’s rule for me being able to listen in.”

“And you’re currently breaking it,” another voice said, with an impatient sigh.

You could practically hear Steve smirking as he spoke.

“He asked a question,” you giggled. “I’m good, Thor, now focus on the mission.”

You could hear Tony snorting.  

“Guess we better do as the lady says,” he said, before the helmet came down on his suit. “Let’s go, Wilson!”

Five minutes later, you heard Sam over the comms.  

“There’s not a lot of outside defence, but there’s the odd guard wandering the grounds. A couple of security cameras, which are…”

Static and electrical buzzing filled your ears.

“Now disabled; you’re welcome. It’s pretty fortified inside though. Lots of people around, high alert.” Sam scoffed. “Nothing we can’t handle though,”  

“Well, with the cameras out, I think now’s our time,” said Steve.  

“Are you sure you’re sure those cameras are out, Wilson?” Tony asked, fighting a grin. “Old ‘Sequins’ here isn’t exactly hard to spot.”

Steve’s head whipped up and his gaze immediately fell on Bucky who was hiding his face with his hand, his eyes creasing at the sides as he tried to hold in his laughter.  

“Shut up, Buck,” Steve shook his head.  

He let out a long exasperated sigh.

“Just pair up,” Steve said. “We don’t know how prepared they are.”

With the laughter dying away slowly, Bucky and Nat paired up instinctively. If Anastasia was in there, they were the ones that wanted to bring her down. Clint and Wanda were next: the second line of defence.  

Steve, Tony and Thor exited the Jet first, taking full advantage of what little surprise they had on the facility. The others waited for their command. As soon as they heard the grunts of both their teammates and the HYDRA agents, they started gearing up. Nat grabbed two guns, pocketing them in her holsters. Bucky snatched a pocket knife from the shelf above. He also instinctively picked up a gun, holding it in his hand, an unreadable look in his eyes. Nat glanced back at him, a little taken aback when she saw the way he was now gripping the gun. There was a ferocity in his actions that could only be explained by the fact that somewhere inside that facility was Anastasia.  

Wanda’s focus was on her powers, testing them out and filling the space around them with red mist. Clint headed straight for the arrows. He seemed to be studying one but looked up when he heard voices in his ear.

“We’re in,” Steve informed them quietly. “There’s a lot of ground to cover here, lots of side rooms.”

He paused to let them digest this information, and start to form a plan.

“Let’s go,” Tony said, slightly impatient.  

They tracked their way carefully into the facility with Sam making sure the cameras were still disabled. Bucky and Nat entered just in time to see Thor and Steve combine forces to take down a group of agents who were trying to sneak up behind them. Bucky put his hand on Steve’s shoulder to let him know they had arrived, and that they weren’t followed. Steve’s gaze fell on the gun in Bucky’s other hand and then moved to his face. His jaw was set as he took in the scene. Steve nudged him with his shoulder, and Bucky blinked a few times before a smile ghosted over his lips.

“Can I get in on some of that action?” Tony quipped, firing repulsor rays into the ceiling, which collapsed just as a second group came down the corridor.  

Steve rolled his eyes as Tony lifted his helmet to wink at him.

“Later,” he chuckled.

“Not the time, Tin Man,” Bucky jibed.

Tony pouted, looking to Steve for back-up. Steve turned his head slightly to raise his eyebrows at Bucky as he quietly hummed the tune of 'If I Only Had a Brain’ from the Wizard of Oz. Nat’s shoulders shook as she took in Tony’s shocked expression.

“That security still out, Sam?” Steve asked, his eyes flashing with amusement.

You could practically hear Sam roll his eyes.

“Just focus on the agents,” he said.

Tony nodded at Bucky.

“We’ll stay here to secure this area. You and Romanoff go west and see what else is there. Barton, Wanda: east wing.”

Nat and Bucky walked down one of the corridors, covering each other: one facing forward, the other backwards. As they turned yet another corner without encountering anyone, they heard a voice in their ear.

“Those cameras won’t stay off forever,” Tony said. “Nat, I know you’ve got a pensioner with you, but can you hurry it up?”

“Yeah, Tin Man’s becoming more like ‘Tin Can’.”

“Shut up, Sparkles.”

Nat rolled her eyes and turned back to Bucky.

He nodded at her.

"Too much ground for both of us to cover together,” Nat’s eyes filled with mirth. “Especially with your speed, old man.”

Without rising to the bait, Bucky gestured between her and the corridor to their left before turning slightly to the right to check for any movement. Finding nothing in either direction, they moved quickly and quietly away from each other.

Bucky rounded his corner and pressed his back against the wall. He could hear voices but couldn’t see where they were coming from. The facility was alive with fighting and noise, which meant that his acute hearing wasn’t able to make out exact words but he could sense the direction they were coming from. From above him, he could hear the Hulk’s growls as he tore through another wall. The comms unit in his ear buzzed slightly, as he heard Nat’s electrocution device disable a door. Everything seemed to get hotter as he made his way down the corridor. Bucky could smell the sweat dripping down his face, as his adrenaline pumped faster. He gripped the knife harder in his hand as he moved on, the cool plastic of the handle helping to keep him focused.

As he edged his way round, he spotted the slim, dark-haired woman. Anastasia. His eyes narrowed instinctively and he flattened himself against the wall next to a door. He couldn’t see inside properly but he also couldn’t hear the voices anymore. This was his chance. He pocketed the knife and grasped the gun as though it was his lifeline. He could finish this once and for all. His past would no longer haunt him. With one shot, he could be free. Bucky braced himself, and then kicked the door, which flew open and clanged as it swung back and hit the wall. He stood in the doorway, facing her. Anastasia looked up from her newly crouched position and smirked menacingly, one eyebrow raised. The Time Stone sat behind her on a pedestal, slightly glowing green in the darkness that surrounded them. The only light was from a small window behind them.

Anastasia stood up and walked directly in front of the Stone, her gaze never leaving Bucky’s form. The look in her eyes was unreadable but she seemed to be enjoying the fact that he was here. Especially that he was here alone.

“Where’s your partner, Barnes?” Anastasia taunted. “Maybe I should pay them a visit.”

Bucky heard a sharp intake of breath through his comms. His grip on the gun loosened slightly at the noise. He’d come here to break away from his past, but also to make sure that Anastasia would pay for what she did to you. Your breathing over the comms brought him back to the moment they’d found you, bruised and broken and helpless. He wouldn’t let that happen a second time.

"Don’t even think about it,” Bucky growled, almost pouncing on her as he leapt up and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her down.

She shook him off with a practised ease, sliding out from under him. He stood up quickly. They circled each other and she moved closer to the Stone.

“Then again, there are easier ways to hurt them,” she smirked, her accent becoming more noticeable.

Bucky’s face gave away his confusion only for a moment before he heard it. He suddenly became painfully aware that they weren’t alone in this room. He looked up before something took him off balance, the gun now completely falling out of his hand. He tried to stand but was being ambushed from every direction. He tried to call out, something to let someone know he was in trouble. Slowly recalling his training with Nat, he let out one word. One word so that someone would know what was going on.

“Buria,” he muttered, hoping she remembered as well. Hoping she could hear him.

From the other side of the facility, Nat flinched as she took down an agent. A chill ran through her body as she stood up, on autopilot as she tried to make her way back to Steve. Steve. Steve could help. Right now; however, she seemed to be too caught up in her own memories to call out to Steve. A large electric shock wracked through the agents in front of her as her fighting became more desperate. ’Buria’. 'Storm’. Bucky was being ambushed.

Back in their room, Anastasia stood over Bucky as he was pinned down by, well he couldn’t actually tell how many, agents. A grin was plastered menacingly on her face as she considered her next move. She grasped the gun from his holster and tossed it to one side. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d be in a similar position soon. Kneeling down, she pressed her lips up against his ear, her mouth at the exact height of his comms unit.

“I’m sorry you weren’t here to help him,” she drawled.

A choking sound on the other end let her know that you were listening. The loud bang from further up the corridor also let her know that the other Avengers now had her attention, even if there was nothing they could do to help. She grabbed the comms unit from Bucky’s ear, and held it out to him as another one of the agents placed their hand around his neck, slowly cutting off his breathing. Bucky let out a strangled gasp.

“I hope you don’t expect anyone else to come either.”

There was a crackle, as Anastasia crushed the comms unit in her hand, and then silence. Back in the Tower, you were pacing the space in front of the couch. Your panic spiked when you couldn’t hear anything over the comms.  

“Steve,” you called out timidly.  

You heard an electrical buzz but there was no response. You collapsed back onto the couch, pressing your fingers to your lips.  

“Steve,” you shouted.

“Little busy here, (Y/N)!”

You flinched at his tone. You tried to speak but your throat caught as you thought of Bucky.

“It’s…” a loud shriek of interference met your ear and you scrambled to take the unit off.

“It’s Bucky,” you said, trying to gain back composure. “Bucky’s in trouble.”

You heard Tony’s voice drowning out your own.

'Please let him be okay,’ you thought. ‘Please’.

As he dispatched another agent, Steve looked up to find the area clear. He pressed a hand to his ear to check on the others. Tony placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Buck?” he whispered, careful to avoid detection in case there were any more agents coming.  

He’d heard the gasp on the other end but couldn’t tell what, or who, it was. He’d been too focused on his own fight. Silence came over the comms. He tried again.

“Buck? You there, pal?”

The silence continued. Steve began to panic, moving deftly through the facility.

“Buck? Bucky?” he shouted, becoming increasingly worried as he rounded the corner followed by the other Avengers.

They came face to face with more HYDRA agents, all on their way to the exit as they made their way quickly out of a room. Steve was pretty certain Bucky was in there.  

“Bucky!” you shouted through the unit.  

You heard Steve burst through the door and gasp.

“Oh my God, Buck,” he whispered, taking in the bloody and bruised form of his best friend, as the commotion outside the door told him that the others were taking care of the agents that had done this to him. The Hulk smashed through the door, displacing the Time Stone which crashed to the ground. Green mist swirled through the air, and the door as the agents outside seem to dematerialise.  

“(Y/N), I’m…” you heard Steve sigh and run a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let him go alone.”

“It’s okay, Stevie. It’s going to be okay,” you whispered. “It wasn’t your fault. Just bring him back. Bring him back to me, Steve.”

A/N: I know! I know, I’m sorry. It’ll be okay. I swear.  I would like to thank my best friend, Ellie ( @itscooltobefanficy), without whom this chapter would not exist. She is wonderful and so talented, and the Tin Man jokes are all hers. I take no credit for that, or for a lot of this chapter. She is also a writer and a thumpin’ good'un at that! Please check her stuff out because it is amazing, and I am in awe of her command of words. (And her new story Feeling Alive is great, so go check that out!)

Taglist: @buckyywiththegoodhair, @buckys-shield, @justkeeplaughing-nevergiveup, @itscooltobehappy, @the-renaissance

If anyone else wants to be added (or removed), just message me on here (@systemfailuresunshine) or on @story-prompt-lyrics!

[positivepsychologyinterventions]

Are We Born with an Expiration Date?

Do you believe we are born with an expiration date and that we “sign up for” a certain number of years? I heard a story today of a stellar young woman on the way to a big event who was killed in a car accident. She crossed paths with another driver who was running late for his own intended destination and he blew through a red light. The young woman was an organ donor whose generosity will save numerous lives.

I know of others who were just going about a “normal” day, and they made their transition suddenly. Some are unexpectedly given a life-ending diagnosis and, as a result, experience pain and suffering. There are many who beat the odds and recovered.

There are some who seemingly have nine lives. I know two of them. Stephen had numerous occasions on which he was declared dead; the first at 3 or 4 when he was run over by a threshing machine on his family farm and then frozen to a fence in a blizzard on his way home from school a few years later and, if memory serves, stung by yellow jackets, struck by lightning, drowned and later was in a motor vehicle accident. He took his final breath this year at 72 as cancer claimed him.

Another friend, Matthew has had at least one stroke, a few heart attacks, open heart surgery and cancer. He is still, blessedly, on this side of the veil, continuing to make a positive difference in the world.

This is an area in which psychology and spirituality overlap. It is an essential conversation for those who ponder the nature of life and their place in it. I happen to be one of them, since, even as a child, I knew there was more than what I could see, hear and touch. Something beyond. Having grown up in a Jewish home in which death was discussed openly, since I had older relatives who passed on and my father was often called on to be present for a minyan (back then 10 men needed to say certain prayers when someone died; now women are counted in that quorum) when someone from out synagogue died. I learned not to fear the eventuality. In college, I had a dream in which I was hover-walking down the sidewalk in my neighborhood and my sister asked what I was doing there since I had died. I woke up, feeling a sense of peace.

It was many years later, on June 12, 2014, that I faced my own mortality. On my way home from the gym at age 55, I had a heart attack. Unexpected, but not completely out of the realm of possibility, since there was a genetic pre-disposition to cardiac disease, combined with my own penchant toward workaholism. I almost didn’t make it. Even now, five years post cardiac event, I am still a bit in denial of how close I came to crossing that threshold and staying there. I do what I can to have a healthier lifestyle, set boundaries and maintain awareness of the tendency to fall back into old patterns. The question I pose to myself often is: Was I meant to survive that experience for a higher purpose? When I incarnated in this current form, did I have a soul contract which implied that as a result of early childhood loss (my beloved grandmother died when I was four), having what could have been debilitating asthma diagnosed right after that, an ectopic pregnancy in my 30s that was nearly life ending, the death of my husband when I was 40 and he was 48, I would grow up to be a social worker/therapist/minister/journalist? Was it a direct line from one event to another, or a random series of events? The answer is important as a means of shaping behavioral choices.

I consider multiple stories surrounding the events of September 11, 2001, of those (including my sister-in-law and brother-in-law who were late to work that day) who didn’t make it in, canceled plans, stopped to pick something up, or were taking their children to school and got stuck in traffic.

A story I read came from Rabbi Jeff Salkin.

“A colleague told me the following story. It is about a non-Jewish woman who worked in the World Trade Center. She had fallen in love with a Jewish man. She decided to convert to Judaism. When she told her parents about her decision, they were not happy. Let’s just say that they were not exactly lovers of the Jewish faith or people. Then, September 11 happened. Her parents called her in anguish, looking for her. Finally, she called them back, and said: “I’m alright. I skipped work today.” “Why?” they asked, through audible tears of gratitude. “I had an appointment with the rabbi who is teaching me for conversion.” Her parents came around. By now, I assume, they have come to believe that Judaism actually saved their daughter’s life.”

I had also heard about a man who survived the attacks on the World Trade Center only to die a few years later in a plane crash.

When I posed this question to various people, the answers were as diverse as they are psychologically and spiritually.

“No. But I do realize that we don’t know how long we’re going to be on this Earth. My time as a pilot of antique aircraft caused me to realize that I might leave this world as a bit of a surprise. And to become okay with that.”

“No. I used to think that maybe everything happened for a reason, but I have seen and experienced things that can have no other reason except that ‘shit happens’ on this planet. A cousin’s husband and my friend were taken out by a perp running from the cops driving through red lights. He was full of life and I knew at that moment there was no reason except cause and effect of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I definitely believe he was taken out before his time and that it was NOT meant to be.”

“There is a random element to the universe where creativity is allowed to flow. If everything was pre-planned there would be no creativity.”

“I do believe that before we come in we know how long we plan to stay — and some choose to go early. One of the things that convinced me was all the stories of those who should have been at work in the World Trade Center on 9/11 but stopped to buy donuts or were otherwise late for a reason. I think it just wasn’t their time. Another thing that convinces me is all the stories of people who have near death experiences and they are sent back here, being told, ‘it’s not your time, yet.'”

“I’d welcome being taken out suddenly ‘before my time’ than a slow, suffering decline.”

“My grandfather told when I was a wee one that there is a day you are meant to be born and a day you are meant to die. I don’t know if he was right. But I hold that as a truth alongside — maybe for some it isn’t.”

“When I first met my husband, we were having a discussion about the paranormal and the metaphysical, and he told me that he has always believed he would die at age 56. He was 40 at the time and promised that he would give me the best 16 years of his life. We celebrated his 56th birthday with some gloom. He’s now 65. We both have had some near-death illnesses that we have survived, and still, I buy green bananas.”

“Well considering I might be the guy you mentioned with 9 lives or 15 I think as of now; this is my humble opinion and from my own experience with death and life: “Death comes for us all period, it all happens exactly as it is supposed to happen, suddenly or slowly there, our lives are meant to be lessons for others. We are not meant to know what those lessons are. Take a person who is dying slowly and painfully, their family watches as the decline occurs, my daughter experienced this as a child with her grandmother’s fall into MS. My daughter used the lesson of sitting and reading to her grandmother and volunteered at a nursing home reading to the elderly who had no family. Now was her grandmother’s painful prolonged exit without benefit? You decide. “Take my first death, I hated myself because I told my mother I hated her for being sick but when she died in my arms at 10 I told her I loved her, and I thought she never heard me. For almost 40 years I carried that guilt till one day on my trip in the desert I realized when I was dying I heard everything, so she heard me, that revelation freed me at the right moment and the right time to do the most good. “Our lives are not chance, things happen when they are supposed to. It is just up to us to be open to the possibility of what the lesson is and open to that chance when it comes, meeting a stranger that becomes a dear friend, helping a down and out guy get through a divorce because you’re a good hearted attorney and turns into a lifelong friendship. Thinking things are just chance closes you off to life and lessons even when those lessons may not be for you at all. “I’m going to die finally one day in some epic fashion alone and in the middle of nowhere and I am so okay with it. Because somewhere somehow along the way there was a lesson to be passed along because of my life, all of our lives, it’s just not your place to know what that lesson was. “Either that or this life is all horse shit and meaningless, but I don’t think it is. Being one of the few people to be alive who has experienced death, not near death, I don’t fear it because I know it, but I also don’t welcome it. The act of dying is beautiful for the person dying I know that may sound illogical or contrary to what you may see, while the pain leading up to death may seem too much and often is the actual part of dying is beautiful beyond words understand that last part please and if you’re struggling with grief about the loss of a loved one know they were at peace fully without pain as they transitioned to whatever is next.”

In the midst of this discussion, the reality is we will all die someday.

from World of Psychology https://ift.tt/2X9tPzD via IFTTT