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theuncommoncorner · 5 years

Text

Kisame Fight Club

“Fight Club”

(Kisame x S/O)

Requested by a few people

Word Count 2,259

“I’m not mad at you for being in your fight club, I’m upset because you didn’t tell me you were in it!”

“Ok, that’s understandable. But I just,” Kisame paused and turned his head to the side, “I just figured you’d want me to quit.” Kisame attempted to avoid them by turning his body away, but [Y/N] grabs his hands and sits down at the kitchen table.

“Kisame, I would never tell you to quit. It’s obvious this is something you’re passionate about. I am not going to stop you from pursuing something you’re passionate about—that’s just idiotic! I’m supposed to support you as your friend and partner. Don’t ever forget that.”

He sits down as well, clears his throat, and with a faint smirk replies, “What if it’s illegal?” It’s obvious he’s trying to dampen the mood a bit but they seriously consider this. Cocking their head to the left just a hare and sticking their tongue in their right cheek—a quirk he’s noticed over the years.

“It… depends.”

“Depends? Elaborate.”

“Hmmm,” they bite their index finger while thinking, “murder—obviously, drugs, off-shore bank accounts, robbing people and places, shoplifting uh…”

Kisame lifted his eyebrows a smidge, “So you will support me doing that?”

They straighten their back, “What? No! Why would you say that?” Their eyes locking on his

“You didn’t specify,” he says with a cocky smile.

They sigh dragging both hands down their face, “Come on man you know what I meant.”

“Anyway,” he shifts in the mahogany chair, “you’re not mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. But I am upset that you didn’t tell me. Kisame you can’t keep secrets like this from me. I understand why you would, but…”

He puts his left-hand palm-to-palm with their right hand. The two of them exchange a soft smile before looking at their hands. A barely audible ‘I’m sorry’ is heard from Kisame’s side of the table in their kitchen. His partner intertwines their fingers showing they accept his apology.

Kisame exhales out of his nostrils staring at their hands and the gold band on his ring finger. He really did hate disappointing and upsetting his partner.

The next day during dinner Kisame and his partner talk about their day. Uneventful on both ends. Nothing special and nothing new. As the conversation ended he wondered if they would talk about it. The answer was yes.

“Kisame.” [Y/N] said softly.

He looked up from his plate of food, “yes?”

They looked to the side bashfully, “Would you be opposed of me joining you?”

He looked at them thoughtfully, weighing the pros and cons of their request.

“Not…particularly.” He wondered how everyone at the meeting place would react. Sure, the others had brought their significant others but this was different. Everyone knew about [Y/N}, and he only talked about them. The other members would playfully tease him about [Y/N] paying a visit. Even The Boss would join in if she wasn’t too busy coaching someone. He knew under their teasing ways they truly were curious about his s/o. If someone was married or dating the members made it a point to ask them to share, if the person in question was willing. It was one of the few things everyone in the group talked about. They knew Kisame was willing and that he simply hadn’t told [Y/N] about his late-night training and competitions. Welp, now they know and now they want to join him.

He looked up meeting [Y/N]’s excited gaze. He could tell from the glint in their eyes they really want to go with him. All he had to do was give them a definitive ‘yes.’ He ponders the idea a little longer.

“Alright.”

In one swift movement [Y/N] moved both of their plates, launched their body across the kitchen table, and engulfed Kisame in a bone-crushing hug, “Thank you!”

Kisame wrapped an arm around their waist and used the other to prevent them from tumbling backward. He chuckled, “Excited, huh?”

[Y/N] leaned back slightly, still holding onto his shoulders, “Of course I’m excited! It’s not every day you learn that your husband is a part of some badass fight club!” They pump their fist in the air as a way to emphasize what they just exclaimed. Kisame moved his chair back and guided them into his lap.

“There are of course a couple conditions.”

“As expected,” they shifted into a more comfortable position while lightly resting their forearms on his shoulders.

“I’ll need to let everyone know you’ll be coming with me the next time I go in. Also, I’ll need to double check with The Boss that it’s alright for you to tag along.”

“The Boss?”

“Yeah, our head honcho and coach. She’s—”

“A woman?” They looked at him quizzically.

“Yes, a woman. However, she’s built like a tank and honestly, she scares me and everyone else a bit.”

[Y/N]’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, “You’re scared of someone?”

“Shocking. I know,” Kisame huffed, “you’ll understand once you meet her. Hopefully, her two sons will pay a visit when I bring you. They tend to take the scary aura off of her.”

“I guess I should prepare myself. Anything else?”

“A few things but they can wait. Let’s finish eating and clean up in here. I do have to go in tonight. The sooner I talk to everyone and get the OK the sooner you can come with me.”

[Y/N] removed themselves from Kisame’s lap and proceeded to shovel the rest of their food in their mouth. Through a mouthful of food, Kisame could make out, “hurry up and finish so you can go!”

He chuckled and finished his meal then went to their bedroom to get dressed. The night you would join him was going to be interesting.

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

Kisame shifted in his seat, twisting one hand on the steering wheel and the other lightly gripping the gear shift. He was nervous and detested the fact he let his nerves get to him. They weren’t strong but they were there. Nagging him throughout the entire ride.

“Kisame!”

He blinked, bringing himself back into the present, and glanced at his s/o in the passenger seat. “What?”

“Goodness man I’ve been saying your name for five minutes!”

He turned his head to signal they have his full attention before returning his eyes to the road, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong other than the fact you’ve been in your own brain a good chunk of this car ride. Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine.” [Y/N] put their hand on his own placed atop the gear shift. Their hands moving as he switched gears to slow down off the exit ramp of the highway.

Four turns to their destination.

“You say that now,” he puffed air out of his mouth, “wait until you get bombarded with questions from everyone.”

They patted his hand twice, “you know I can handle myself.”

“I know you can handle yourself, I’m hoping they know how to handle themselves.”

Red light.

“They are all grown adults they know how to be polite.”

[Y/N] looks at Kisame as the light turns green and he shifts the vehicle forward and turns it left leaving two turns until they arrive.

“Minus the Vargas Brothers,” he mumbles.

“Oh, pish posh,” they wave their hand in a dismissive manner towards him. Kisame gives [Y/N] a look as he turns right. Hoping nothing absolutely ludicrous happens just because he said ‘Alright’ a few nights ago.

Three ‘STOP’ signs, one left turn, and two blocks later they arrive. The building is brick with white paint chipped off in some areas. It’s nestled between two other buildings. One a house with a short 3ft/91.4cm chain linked fence. The other an open convenience store.

They unbuckled their seatbelts and Kisame took a deep breath before grabbing his duffle bag from the backseat. [Y/N] checked their phone for the time, 9:40pm. Kisame told [Y/N] that he normally arrives at 10:10pm to warm up before his rounds started but since they were with him he needed some more time to be there when they met everyone. [Y/N] placed a reassuring hand on his arm as he led them inside.

It smelled. Not horribly, but it did smell. A mixture of sweat, human funk, and air freshener. Specifically, clean linen and lavender. They wondered who decided that.

“Tiff.”

“What?”

“Tiff. He’s the one that chooses the air freshener,” he looked at their bewildered expression before explaining, “you said that out loud.”

They looked away in embarrassment as they continued walking down the hallway. It was well lit with grey marble tiled floors. The walls lined with different Bruce Lee cloth posters. [Y/N] recognized some of the posters. They watched The Big Boss and Fist of Fury with Kisame during a couple of their date nights. The former being [Y/N]’s personal favorite.

A white door is at the end of the hallway with a passcode lock. As Kisame types the code [Y/N} turns their head away—just in case. He opens the door and [Y/N] looks around the large room. Shuffling and what sounds like a large ‘thud’ can be heard from upstairs. [Y/N] assumes it’s someone landing on the floor. Loud whooping and cheering can also be heard from the open staircase on the left towards the back wall. Two large benches are in the middle of the room and equipment is neatly organized on racks and shelves at the back of the room. On the right side is a regular wooden door marked ‘MEN’S LOCKERS’ in red. The door directly across from it is marked similarly except it had ‘WOMEN’S LOCKERS’ on it and the words were in blue. There was another door next to the women’s lockers—an office maybe? As they walked further into the room [Y/N] could see a metal desk with a three-tiered tray organizer and an assortment of office supplies and papers—definitely an office.

A door shuts from within the office and footsteps are heard coming to the main room. The Boss walks in, paper in hand, and doesn’t even look up from the sheet while saying, “You’re here earlier than usual Kisame. I put you down for training downstairs today. I want you working on the shield with Thane and on the battle rope. Make sure you get some laps in sometime this week too. I don’t want you fighting today because as you can hear from the bumping upstairs the Vargas boys are double teaming against Jon and his sister Andie.”

“I don’t even wanna know why they thought that was a good idea,” Kisame chimed in.

“I think they are trying to ‘get even’ since the brothers lost their last match against them.” The Boss looked up from her sheet of paper and noticed [Y/N] standing next to him, “Oh! Kisame why didn’t you tell me she was standing there the whole time?!”

Kisame’s partner understood what he meant when he told them that the members were slightly scared of her. The dangerous aura surrounding the woman reminded them of their own mother’s rage when their father did something really stupid. That feeling went away as soon as she started to address [Y/N].

“It’s nice to meet you [Y/N]! I’m The Boss, as I’m sure Kisame has told you, but you can call me Sawyer,” she holds out her right hand.

“It’s nice to meet you as well Sawyer!” [Y/N] smiles and exchanges a firm handshake with her. Kisame smiles to himself behind them—so far so good.

“Welcome to the family. We’ve heard quite a lot about you, all good things of course. I hope to see you more often,” a large bang was heard from upstairs along with yelling, “If you’ll excuse me I should make sure no one is seriously injured.” Sawyer excused herself and quickly made her way upstairs to see the damage. The bang of a body slamming into a door was heard and all sound coming from upstairs ceased. It closed before mumbled yelling could be heard from Sawyer.

Kisame chuckled and said, “She’s not one for long conversations anyway. It’s somewhat painful to hold a conversation with her since she doesn’t talk unless it’s necessary.”

[Y/N] hummed and thought it was an odd trait to have considering she ran such a facility. They guessed she relied more on showing others what to do than saying what it was she wanted people to do.

“Well,” his partner turned towards him as he spoke, “I better get changed. The faster I do the sooner we can rip off this imaginary band-aid and you can meet everyone else that’s here. You can either sit out here or go to the women’s locker room, it’s your choice. You don’t have to worry too much about anyone else here since their all busy plus the only women here are you, The Boss, and Andie. I’ll be back.” He turned around and started walking to the men’s lockers. He opened the door slightly and paused before saying, “I know I don’t need to say this but don’t touch anything. I know how sometimes trouble seems to find you at the most inconvenient times.”

“Sure thing,” they gave him a thumbs up before making their way to the women’s lockers to use the restroom.

Tonight was going to be something else.

#Kisame #Kisame hoshigaki #kisame scenario #kisame hoshigaki scenario #kisame x reader #kisame imagine #fight club

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chocojjk · 5 years

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cafes and pinky promises

summary: bff! felix → idol! felix ,,, like i said , i suck at summaries

words: 2.8k

a/n: yall im on a roll, i really don't know why im writing so much these past few days but enjoy,, i hope

not edited, per usual

as you entered your favorite cafe, you never expected to come face to face with the boy who filled up every second of your thoughts

in fact, it was the very boy that has created so many memories with you in this same exact place

you wanted to go up to him, to see how he was doing, ask him how idol life been treating him but you found yourself glued to the floor, unable to move

every single memory with him suddenly flashing in mind

the two of you met back in middle school

it was the typical story

you were the new kid in school,

didn't have any friends,,

sat alone at lunch,,,

then one day he came up to you wearing his brightest smile, the freckles upon his cheeks shining up like the stars in the sky

“hi, im felix”

(❁´◡`❁)

and the rest was history

you guys became the best of friends, practically glued to the hip

but let’s skip all that friendship fluff and fast forward to second year of high school

you guys have been best friends for a good four years now

one of the things that you guys love doing is going to the cafe a little out of town

the cafe had free wifi and barely any people so it became a routine to just go there after school and goof around

dont get me wrong, you guys do homework too

#getyoureducationkids

also like #fuckthesystem

anyways,,,,

since you guys were the smartest in your class, it never really took that long to finish homework and instead you guys would just have fun listening to music, telling bad jokes, watching a show on netflix, and sometimes even just playing rock paper and scissors

there’s never a dull moment between the two of you

honestly if it wasn’t for you and felix, the cafe would probably be out of business

even the owner knew you two

she was the sweetest old lady, always giving you guys extra cookies and letting you stay for as long as you can

she would also always joke around about how you two would make the cutest couple, comparing the two of you to her and her husband who were high school sweethearts

being young, the thought first made you wanna vomit

like ew,,, boys are gross

but as you grew older, you started seeing the boy in a different light

the small touches and the hand holding suddenly started to have meaning

everytime he laughed, it was music to your ears

his freckles became the most beautiful thing in the world, and you loved tracing each one of them

sure, you guys have had your own share of petty fights but at the end of the day it did nothing but strengthen the friendship that you two share

there were never any secrets

(((besides of course these feelings that were growing but shh we dont speak of that)))

you knew felix like the back of your hand and vice versa

and you could just see yourself spending every moment with him in the upcoming future

until of course one day,

“y/n, i need to tell you something but pinky promise you won’t get mad?”

“felix every time someone says that, people tend to be mad”

“y/n just pinky promise me you wont”

“ok, i pinky promise, now what is it??”

felix was absolutely terrified

he’s been meaning to tell you this for a while but every time he tried he just couldn't find the words to do so

and god, how he has let time pass him by

“im moving to korea”

you bursted out laughing and felix is confused as heck like?????

whats??

so ???

funny????

“seriously lix, you made me pinky promise not to be mad over a joke??”

you see, pinky promises may seem like a childish thing but it was sacred between the two of you

so when he used it over a joke, you just couldn’t help but let out a few couple giggles

however, as you turned to face him and saw the serious expression written on his face you found yourself at loss for words

“wait, are you serious?”

“yeah”

“wh-when are you leaving?”

“in a month”

“h-how long have you known???”

“ummmm” (´･_･`)

“felix.”

“Since we went to the park”

the park

you remembered that day, it was probably one of the happiest days of your life

you passed your math test with a perfect score and has just become the student body president of your class

on top of that, felix decided he wanted to treat you out for ice cream as he was proud of his best friend

what you didnt know was that this was the day that would change everything

this was the day he was scouted

the day he received the news that he was accepted as a trainee

and hes been finding a way to tell you

but he just couldn't

you were completely over the moon

as you guys were sitting on the swings, your hands occupied with your own ice cream cones

felix started talking about his dance team and choir class

you always knew how much he enjoyed those classes

yet as he talked about his passion, his eyes twinkling and his mouth curving into the softest smile, you truly got a grasp on how much your best friend loved music and performing

you can't help but think back to a few days ago, when your friend brought up how much your eyes sparkled talking about felix

you wondered if you looked the same as how felix looked now, talking about the things that he loved to do

and then it hit you

you were in love with your best friend

god reader, how cliche could you be (●'◡'●)ﾉ♥

“felix, that was two months ago.”

to say you were mad was an understatement,, you were filled with rage

anger and disappointment all just combining into one

suddenly the future that you clearly saw vanished because every single one of those versions had the boy by your side

“im sorry”

not knowing how to respond, you started packing up your things in your backpack

felix just watching you do so, thinking of things to say to make the situation at hand better

once you stood up, he snapped out of his thoughts, worry completely washing over his eyes

“where are you going?”

“im going home.” you say emotionlessly

“let me walk you”

“no”

and that was the last of it

he tried calling you several times after that yet all he was left with was your voicemail

every time he approached you at school, you would walk the other way

every day he would show up at the cafe hoping to see your face, yet that day never came because you stopped going

you figured it’d be easier to let him go if you just stayed mad at him

you figured that your feelings would automatically go away if you replaced them with hate

but reader, you were so wrong

the day came when he finally had to go

that day was painfully hard for you

your whole class was bidding him goodbye, and all you could do was watch from the sidelines, your pride way too high to forgive him now

no one really knew about your guys’ fall out as you found it was better to keep things to yourself than become the schools new gossip

and so when everyone started asking you how you felt, you responded with the most generic answers

“whatever makes him happy, im happy”

oh reader, you are such a liar

it wasn't until a year after, that you truly forgave him

and that was because a classmate of yours barged into the room, waving her phone around

“Guys remember felix!, well he’s an idol now!!”

as soon as you got home that day, you searched up his name, and there he was

Lee Felix

Stray Kids

and you realized how stupid you’ve been

you never even bothered asking him why he was leaving

you cried yourself to sleep that night as you look back on the wasted friendship that you threw down the drain

but you figured that there was no point in being sad over it anymore

you were done holding grudges

so the next day you went back to the cafe and binged the survival show that your best friend, well ex best friend, was in

the sweet old day was overjoyed when she saw your familiar face

she asked you where your partner in crime was and with a genuine smile you responded with “he’s out there doing bigger and greater things”

ever since then, you made the cafe a weekly trip

it hurt you to know that you spent your time resenting him so you made a pinky promise to yourself, that even if he didnt know, you would support him no matter what

you ended up buying all their albums

watching their vlives

staying up late for their debuts

hell, you've even gon to the point of making a stan account just to be be updated

which brings you to now

you knew that felix was in australia, they were having a concert here

you even got a ticket for yourself, not close enough where he could see you of course

you were still ashamed of your actions even though it’s been almost two years

so when you walked in the cafe and saw him with his 8 buds seated in your guys’ usual spot, you definitely didn't know how to react

seeming as they haven't spotted you yet, you quickly made your way out the door

however, Elise, the sweet old lady, had other plans

“y/n, honey, leaving so quickly?”

and that was when 9 heads turned to the door

all 18 eyes just looking at you

‘fuck y/n okay just act cool’

‘youre fine’

‘maybe they don't even notice you’

‘omg speak’

“y/n?” felix says, his deep voice breaking you out of your thoughts

“felix?? Hi!!!” you say, giving him the biggest fake smile ever

it’s not that you wanted to okay, it was just a very awkward situation and you have no idea how to act

‘smooth y/n, so smooth’

I swear if you could facepalm yourself, you’d be doing so with both of your hands + the hands of the 7 billion people on this earth

“uhm hi?,” he replies, obviously confused as to why you suddenly acknowledged his existence

truth to be told, he was expecting you to ignore him just like all the other times before

“well, won't you look at that, my two musketeers are back together,” Elise butts in,

“ah, it's just like the old days, would you guys like some cookies???” she says, a soft smile on her face

“no that's okay El, im heading out soon anyways, can i just have the usual caramel macchiato?” you say quickly, ignoring the awkward tension in the air

“sure thing hon”

and as she goes to the back to make your order, you were left with the 9 boys

welp

its now or never

“uhm, when did you get back?”

you ask, your hands automatically playing with the hem of your shirt, a clear sign that you were nervous

“im just here for the week”

“oh,,, nice”

“Yeah”

(>_<)

the other boys just sitting in silence, going back and forth between the two of you

they know exactly who you are, and trust me, they arent your biggest fans

which is exactly why they chose to not break the awkward tension in the air

and you swear, you wish you can just have the earth open up and swallow you whole

“hon, heres your order!”

oh thank god,,

Elise is your savior

even though you wouldnt even be in this situation if it wasnt for her

you quickly grab your drink and make your way out,,, but not before saying

“uhm, it was nice seeing you again lix,” you say, this time, a genuine smile on your face

◐ˍ◑

when felix heard the nickname that you've once given him, he couldn't believe his ears

great job reader, you’ve left him stunned

taking his silence as a response, cause youre kinda a dumbass, you nodded to him and the other boys and left the cafe

however as you made your way to your car

something clicked inside of you

,,,,

fuck it

,,,,

you ran back to the cafe, grabbing the door wide open at the same exact time that felix pushed it open

which caused him to stumble right on top of you, your coffee being thrown a whole meter away

at least it wasn't on your shirt

“omygod im so sorry! are you okay?” he asks, picking you up and checking you for bruises

and youve realized that he hasnt changed one bit

he’s still your best friend felix

the same felix that treats you with so much love and care

the same felix you fell in love with all those years ago

and you couldnt help but let out a tear

this worried felix even more

“what is it?? whats wrong???”

you were blown out sobbing at this point

“Im ๑•́ㅿ•̀๑) ᔆᵒʳʳᵞ ”

“huh??”

“im so sorry felix, i-”

your emotions not allowing you to create a single coherent sentence

but because felix still knew you like the back of his hand, he knew exactly what you were talking about

“lets go inside okay”

all you could do was nod and let him guide you to your usual spot that was now empty

grabbing a couple napkins, he wipes your tears away for you before you finally became conscious of what was happening and took control

“I didnt know you still came to this cafe?” he says, finally breaking the silence

“yeah uhm, i started coming back,”

“why?”

“I-i guess i just missed you”

“I thought you hated me”

“No,” you say quickly, that was the last thing you wanted him to think

“i didnt hate you, i was just angry and sad and i acted upon those emotions. I was stupid, im sorry”

“its okay, i understand, youre not stupid y/n”

god damn it,,

why is this guy so nice,,

“no felix, it's not okay. we were best friends, i should have talked to you. I-i shouldnt have cut you off like that especially when i didnt even give you a chance to explain yourself”

damn okay reader, admitting to your mistakes, im p r o u d

“Its all in the past now y/n”

“can you forgive me for being a bitch?” 👉👈

This got a chuckle from felix

“as long as you can forgive me for keeping a secret from you” he replies, shooting you a smile

you smile back at him

“ive forgiven you a long time ago lix”

,,,,

felix has stopped malfunctioning

“ive missed you,” he says grabbing your hand from across the table and holding it the way he used to

“ive missed you too,,, so much,,, im so proud of you,”

“proud of me?”

“yeah, youve finally done what youve always dreamt of”

“you know?”

“of course i know lix, youre everywhere!”

“it kinda sucks how you know whats been going on in my life and i dont know a single clue about yours”

“I can always catch you up!” you say excitedly, but as you see the sad smile that began to etch his way onto his face, you see that that’s not the case

“busy schedule?” you question

“yeah” he replies, the grip on your hand becoming tighter, almost like he doesnt want to let go

“thats okay, im sure we’ll find some time,” you say maintaining the positive energy

right on cue, chan peeps his head in the door

“Felix we have to go now, i tried convincing them to give you more time but were already running behind schedule”

“aish” felix replies as his tears suddenly made his way down

he gets up and pulls you into a bone crushing hug as you breathe in his scent, taking it all in

“im sorry i have to go so soon”

“thats okay felix, ill always be here”

“i hope i can see you again before I leave,”

“oh dont worry, you will” you say, a big smile on your face

“what do you mean?”

“just watch out for me at the concert, yeah?”

“youre coming???!!!!??”

“yep, already got my ticket!”

and you swear youve never seen felix smile so brightly before

“you pinky promise?”

“I pinky promise.”

#lee felix #lee felix imagine #lee felix au #lee felix blurb #stray kids felix #lee felix x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids blurb #stray kids au #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #lee felix fluff #lee felix angst #stray kids lee felix #stray kids soft #stray kids scenario #stray kids ships #stray kids

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megabadbunny · 6 years

Note

Ten and Rose, 2, E and ➕

(tenrose, bad wolf bay, comfort, four’s scarf from @doctorroseprompts )

For a few blinding moments, all she feels is the sheer whitecold.

“…you not to, I toldyou,” bleeds into her hearing, faint and dim like a background hum, like adream. The voice is cottony through the ice-cold of her skin, the painscreaming in her veins, the penny-copper smell in her nose, but if she didn’tknow any better, she’d almost think it was him—

“No, no no no no,” says the voice frantically, fromsomewhere far away, and she wonders what’s wrong. “Stay awake, stay with me,don’t—”

The darkness is quiet and warm.

***

She dreams; she dreams about stormy grey beaches and solidwhite walls.

***

White floods her vision the moment she wakes.

“Rose? Are you conscious? Are you all right?”

She blinks, sorting through the words in her head, parsingthe meaning of them. It’s a little difficult to separate them from the faintbeeping surrounding her, an uneven beep-beep-beep,beep-beep bleating in time with herheart. Her skull feels stuffed with cobwebs and it’s taking a little while forthings to make their way through.

Eventually, the Doctor’s face swims into view, sharplycontrasted with the stark, antiseptic walls around him. He looks worried.

God, he’s lovely.

“Rose?”

“’M fine,” she says automatically. And really, she is, ifyou ignore things like her cloud-filled head and aching temples and how shecan’t seem to stop shivering and it would be nice if the room stopped moving,please.

Grimacing, the Doctor drags a hand over his face; eventhrough the fog in her head, Rose can see that he’s trembling. “I told you notto do it,” he breathes. “I don’t know what you were thinking.”

His gaze turns hard. “I should have stopped you.”

Feebly, Rose tries to protest, to reach for him, but hejerks back faster than her brain can process right now, as if he needs timebefore he can touch her again, as if fouryears wasn’t enough somehow. He stalks away before Rose can open her mouth,to plead with him to stay.

It’s just as well. He won’t miss much while she slips backinto unconsciousness.

***

She closes her eyes and her brain plays back memories likefilm on a rickety projector.

***

There’s another voice out in the corridor, now; Rose canjust make it out over the beeping of the monitors in the medbay. Beep-beep, beep-beep, they chirp, cheerful, slow, steady.

“Wait, so you’re telling me the love of your life is inthere—right there, right now—and instead of marching in there andtaking care of her, you’re sitting out here, bloody brooding?”

“She’s well-cared-for, Donna,” is the curt reply. “She’s notlacking for any amenities or medical attention.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

Silence. Rose imagines the Doctor is glaring at the floorright about now, brow furrowed and arms crossed over his abdomen. Petulant, she thinks hazily, though shecan’t quite remember what the word means.

Beep-beep, beep-beep,chimes the medical monitors. A cold sound in a cold room. Rose is piled withblankets but she can’t stop shivering.

She wishes she could see him.

“So how long are you gonna pout out here, anyway?” the othervoice—Donna—asks impatiently.

Again, the Doctor doesn’t reply. Several moments pass inagonizing quiet before Donna huffs in irritation. Rose can practically hear her rolling her eyes, even throughthe walls of the medbay.

“Fine, have fun being a giant prat,” says Donna, and thesqueak of trainers on the floor lets Rose know she’s walking away. “I’m sureRose came back just for that!”

It’s about what Iexpected, actually, Rose thinks, or maybe says, she can’t be sure. Thebright-white hurts her eyes so she closes them and slips quickly back intoslumber.

Beep-beep, beep-beep.

***

Ring-ring, ring-ring.

The line chimed forages; generations and eons and entire geologic periods passed in the timebetween knells. Rose worried her lip between her teeth, fingers tapping an idletaboo against the side of her headset. Glancing down at the equipment desk, shewatched her old mobile as it flashed numbers and a tiny blue icon across itscracked little screen, happily announcing that, yep, it was still calling, andnope, no one had picked up yet. Chin in hand, Rose tapped the dials in front ofher, double-checked the diagnostics screens, triple-checked the many cablesconnecting her old mobile to the Projector device in a tangle of dully blackand grey.

Fifty-two calls, now;that meant fifty-two other universes detected, not one of them right. Mickey’shalf-lidded, sleepy eyes and the lab tech’s fingers lazily spinning a pencilback and forth let Rose know they’d already given up on this call, and shecould only half-blame them. Call fifty-three certainly didn’t look promising.

“That’s forty-fiveseconds gone,” Mickey rattled off, watching dispassionately as the stopwatch inhis hand counted down. He stifled a yawn. “Just over a minute left. You wannago ahead and cut out?”

“No, might as well gothe full 113. We’ve got the budget for it.”

“Yeah, but then it’stwo days before we can make another call. If they even let us make anothercall.”

Ring-ring, ring-ringchimed the other end of the line.

With a dry chuckle,Rose adjusted a knob on the Projector, wincing at the feedback that flared inher ear. “Of course. What’s the fate of the universe when you’ve got that peskybottom line to maintain?”

“On the plus side,when we do blink out of existence, at least we won’t hear any whinging fromAccounting anymore.”

Ring-ring, ring-ring.

“Or maybe that’s allwe’ll hear,” joked the lab tech—technically the lead lab tech, a friendly andpleasantly plump middle-aged woman named Julie, and coincidentally, one ofperhaps four people besides Rose and Mickey who hadn’t completely given up onthis project. She swiveled round in her chair, her pencil still dancing betweenher fingers. “You know,” she continued, “if those cult leaders are right andwe’re going to hell, and all.”

“God,” Rose and Mickeygroaned in unison, and Rose laughed. “They’re not still picketing outside thelobby, are they?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. Now they’vebeen joined by that other cult, the what-d’you-call-‘em’s, the Children ofNight or whatever.”

“Those the blokes withthe dark hoods and those blinking star-staff-things?”

“No, you’re thinkingof the Brotherhood of the Night.”

Ring-ring, ring-ring.

“Blimey,” sighedMickey, scrubbing a hand over his face; it made a not-unpleasant scritch-scratch sound against the four-day-old stubble thatsat dark on his chin. It was a good look for him, Rose thought, or at least itwould be if it wasn’t a byproduct of trying to outrun the end of the world.“Things are bad enough without all these nutcases making them worse,” hegroused.

“At least theEvangelicals never gained any traction,” said Rose. “Can you imagine what it’slike in America right now?”

“I’m trying not to.Seems like every time we come in to work, there’s another report of anotherzealot interfering with NASA business.”

“Speaking of, have youheard anything back from their people yet? We were supposed to get those suits agesago.”

“No, shipment’sdelayed while they sort out litigation issues.” Mickey grimaced. “Apparentlysome radicalist right-wing group is suing NASA on the grounds that their ‘attemptsto halt the Apocalypse interfere with sincerely-held religious beliefs’ orwhatever.”

Ring-ring, ring

“Why d’you suppose somany folks are hopping on this pro-Apocalypse bandwagon, anyway?” asked Julie.“You’d think people would want to believe in a just and merciful god, not onethat punishes without warning or reason.”

Thinking for a moment,Mickey shrugged. “Maybe it’s a control thing. Like, ‘Welp, this wouldn’t havehappened if we’d been better. We could have prevented this, we just didn’t.’Because, y’know, then it’s like the stars aren’t going out because of somerandom thing we can’t understand or control, they’re going out because we’rebad, because of things we did.”

Julie snorted. “Smellsan awful lot like narcissism to me.”

“I dunno. Maybe it’sjust less scary for people to think we earned this somehow. Like we’ve actuallygot any say in how the universe operates.”

“Yeah,” said Juliethoughtfully. Then, with a grin, “How much you want to bet those Brotherhoodtossers aren’t wearing anything under those robes?”

“Five quid,” Mickeylaughs.

“C’mon, mate. At leastmake it ten!”

“Make it twenty andyou’ve got a deal,” piped up a voice on the other end of the line, and allthree of them jumped.

Rose and Mickeyexchanged shocked glances, Mickey’s eyes as wide as Rose had ever seen them. Thatvoice—Rose knew that voice—

Was there any way itcould actually be—?

“Hullo!” said the voice, amused. “Person-you-called here. I presume you did it for a reason? I’d love to know what it is.”

Time was moving tooslow and too fast all at once.

Julie snapped to,tossing her pencil over her shoulder as she darted to her control board andgestured frantically for Rose to start talking. Heart hammering painfully inher throat, Rose yanked down her mic.

“Doctor?” she asked,breathless.

A pause. Dimly, Roseregistered the noise of chirping, quiet and echoing somewhere in her periphery,but it faded to the background in favor of the sound on the other end of theline, soft amidst the crackle of static and white noise. It was a quiet, gentlesound, like someone’s mouth falling open in surprise.

Rose held her breath. Sheswore she could feel the earth moving beneath her.

“…Rose?” asked thevoice on the other end.

With a shuddering gaspand a groan, the lights around them blinked out, plunging the room into totalpitch-blackness. Mickey swore and dropped the still-chirping stopwatch in hishaste to help Julie restore the connection or at least mitigate the damage,flipping switches and banging the side of the blasted Projector, like maybethat would turn the damn thing back on, like their illicit extra few secondsdidn’t just drain the entire city of power. At least UNIT’s generous donationsto the hospital and police station had them taken care of, with theirtop-of-the-line generators smoothly picking up the slack, but the rest of thecity wouldn’t be so lucky. Julie was already muttering angrily under her breathabout all the nasty calls she’d be getting from their bosses and the localcouncils the next day, and Mickey smacked the top of the Projector infrustration.

Rose did none of thesethings. Rose smiled.

She’d found him. She’dfound the Doctor.

Everything was goingto be all right.

***

Rose gasps awake to a dark room and a hand pushing her downgently by the shoulder.

“Easy, easy, everything’s okay, you’re okay,” sayssomeone—it’s the voice from before, a woman’s voice. Donna’s voice.

Rose blinks sleep and disorientation out of her eyes to seea woman peering down at her, her face only just visible in the soft dark.Fire-red hair peeks out beneath a thick woolen hat, and Donna pulls her jumperclose, shivering. “Been sleeping like the dead, but you’re okay,” she continueswith a reassuring pat.

“Wha’ happen?” Rose murmurs blearily.

“Well, as the Doctor put it, your takeoff was perfect, butno one lands well with their wings clipped.”

She can’t be sure she’s doing it properly, but Rose does herbest to raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Huh?”

“Ah, sorry,” Donna says, shaking her head. “Long storyshort, your machine did the job, got you across the Void and all, but you’d,well.”

She frowns. “You’d gone into shock by the time you arrived.Looks like sabotage, far as the Doctor can tell.”

Nodding, Rose presses the heels of her palms into her eyesuntil she sees stars. Bloody cultists.She should have seen that coming. She’ll have to warn Mickey and the othersbefore anyone else tries to—

Oh, god.

“Mickey!” she starts to say, shooting up in bed, but Donnajust places a hand on her shoulder again.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ve talked to him,” Donna says,in a soothing tone of voice that would drive Rose batty were she more awake.“He knows all about the sabotage, and that you’re here, and that you’re safe.Okay?”

“’Kay,” Rose mutters, willing her heart to stop racing andlungs to stop seizing up in her chest. Slowly, she relaxes back against herpillows, drawing her duvet up close.

(Why can’t she stop shivering?Maybe it’s a side effect of the shock. She doesn’t care for it.)

“Thanks,” she adds, as an afterthought.

“Don’t mention it. Anything else I can do for you?”

Rose tries to think, and slowly, the clouds begin to clear, liketaking a broom to spiderwebs in the cupboards. She’s on the TARDIS. In bed. Inthe medbay. With Donna.

Who’s Donna, again?

“Are you the new me?” she asks, fuzzily, because words arehard right now.

Donna’s lips twitch. “Wanna try that again, blondie?”

“Sorry,” Rose chuckles, and she offers a grateful smile whenDonna hands her a cupful of water in response. Rose slowly drains the cup,shivering back down into her blankets afterward. “Thank you,” she says. “Andsorry again. I meant to say, are you the one traveling with the Doctor, now?”

“I am. Have been for a little over a year, by my reckoning.”

“Good,” says Rose softly. “I’m glad he hasn’t been alone.”

Donna takes the cup back with a smile. “He really shouldn’tbe, should he?”

“No, he shouldn’t.”

With a sage nod, Donna extends a hand for Rose to shake, andRose accepts. “I’m Donna, by the way,” she says. “And you, of course, would bethe infamous Rose.”

“Yeah. Very nice to meet you, Donna.”

“Very nice to meet you, Rose. Good to finally be able to puta face to the name—god knows you hear it often enough around here.”

Rose blinks in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes,” Donna says emphatically. “I’m sure Martha took thebrunt of it, but I still got more than my fair share of Oh, Rose would do this and Rosewould say that and Blah-blah-blah,Rose was the bestest-bestest-ever and maybe I should’ve said that her face butnow she’s gone and I’ll never get the chance so I guess I’ll be a hopelesslovesick sap instead and besides I never would have said anything anyway becauseI’ve got the emotional development of a pinecone, blah-blah-blah.”

Bewildered, Rose stares at the opposite wall, unsure of howto process this information, trying to ignore the blush that threatens to creepinto her cheeks.

“Anyway, glad to see you made it back all in one piece,”Donna breezes on. “The Doctor made it sound like there was a chance youwouldn’t have, what with the sabotage and all. Though honestly, I’m not sure ifhe was being literal or like, if he meant actual little pieces, like littletiny microscopic pieces or big wet chunky bits—bleh, that’d be a nasty mess,he’d be on his own, cleaning that one up.”

“Do you, erm,” Rose starts to ask, suddenly shy. “Do youhappen to know where he is, right now?”

“Yep.” Donna’s mouth purses into a thin line. “He’s avoidingyou.”

Rose’s shoulders droop in disappointment. “Oh.”

Maybe it’s silly, but she’d hoped for a warmer reunion, bothliterally and figuratively—nothing too extravagant, of course, just hisinfectious smile and a tight hug and maybe a hug again, maybe a few fond words,and she wouldn’t say no to a kiss, though that might be reaching—but perhapsthat was all too much to hope for, from him. He’s not like her, after all; hedoesn’t crave that connection like she does.

She just hopes he gets over this sooner rather than later.She still misses him so much she wants to scream.

With a little shake, Rose slaps on a smile she doesn’t feel,something she’s got quite good at over the last few years. “So what about you,Donna? Where are you from, what did you do before, how’d you start travelingwith the Doctor?”

“No,” Donna replies, her voice kind, but firm.

Rose’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “Sorry?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d love a chat later,” Donnaexplains, pushing up from her bedside chair. “I’d abso-bloody-lutely adore a chat later, haven’t had a properconversation with a woman in ages—the TARDIS is lovely and all, but she’s notmuch of a talker, and the Doctor’s no substitute, man’s worthless for anythingthat’s not alien electronics or whatever bits of history he pulls out of hisarse—but if I do that right now, I’ll be playing right into his hand, andthat’s just not gonna happen.”

“What do you mean?”

Donna sighs. “You’re still just a little bit addled, aren’tyou? Go find him, dumbo. Track him to his hidey-hole, pin him down, and makehim talk to you. And don’t let him hide behind me or anything else. Okay?”

With a slow nod of understanding, Rose releases a shakybreath. “Wow. Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.”

Donna claps her hands and the medbay lights spring onoverhead, piercing Rose’s eyes with their sharp-white glare. Ducking out ofsight, Donna returns with a laundry-basket heaped with clothes, which sheoverturns on Rose’s bed. Jumpers and mittens and thick woolen socks tumble outof the basket in an elegant landslide, covering Rose’s legs and spilling overthe edge of the bed onto the floor.

“Am I helping you with the laundry, first?” Rose asks with asmile.

“I’m sure you picked up on the fact that it’s a littlechilly in here,” explains Donna as she fishes around the clothes-pile. “That’sbecause whatever thingummy-whatsit the Doctor rigged up with thetractor-beam-doodad to help you do your jump-thing did a number on the power.”

“Aww, so you raided the wardrobe room to bring me warmthings.” Rose beams. “Lovely, thank you!”

“You’re very welcome. Might be wearing jumpers for a while,though—the TARDIS is in some sort of emergency powersave mode right now toconserve fuel. Essential functions only,the Doctor said.”

“Right, cos heat’s not an essential function or anything,”Rose laughs, plucking at a particularly vile rainbow jacket.

“God, yes,” Donna groans. She tosses Rose a pair ofmismatched but very nice plushy socks. “Yes,see, that’s what I mean! Another reasonable person onboard, another woman onboard, that’s exactly what Ineed!”

“Don’t worry, darling, she means another human woman,” Rose coos to the TARDIS,lovingly stroking a nearby coral strut.

“Oi, don’t you go rubbing bits of her, it’s bad enough thathe does it.”

“Donna just doesn’t understand, does she? It’s all right,you’re plenty woman for me.”

Donna sticks out her tongue. “Ugh. You two really are madefor each other. Gross.”

“Do you hear that? Madefor each other. Donna’s blessed our union and everything!”

“Yep, that’s exactly what I meant,” Donna laughs, tossing apair of thick-knit trousers Rose’s way. They hit her in the face with a whumph. “Now layer up and get on outthere!”

***

This time, the phonedidn’t even get a full ring in before the Doctor picked up.

“Listen,” he said, hisvoice taut, like a string pulled tight and about to snap. “I don’t know how yougot hold of this number, or how you got hold of that phone, but if this is somesort of prank or sick joke—”

“It’s not a joke,Doctor, I swear—”

“—then I will do everythingwithin my considerable power to personally ensure that you regret it—”

“—it’s me, it’s Rose,I’m calling from the other universe, but I haven’t got much time—”

“—and please believeme when I say I don’t make empty threats—”

“—please, Doctor, Ineed your help!”

The silence that fellbetween them was thick with suspicion.

“I mean, we need yourhelp,” Rose amended, her grip on her old mobile tightening until her knucklesglowed white.

Silence once again.Mickey flashed the stopwatch her way. Ninety-five seconds left.

“Please, Doctor,” saidRose. “Our universe is dying. Something’s killing us, star by star.”

More quiet. OverJulie’s shoulder, Rose glanced at the diagnostics screen, double-checking theconnection to ensure nothing cut them off, but the signal was strong, accordingto the numbers—as strong as it could be, anyway, bouncing between universes.The Doctor just wasn’t talking.

Of course, the onetime she actually needed him to run his gob. Typical.

“Look,” Rose pleaded,turning away from Mickey and Julie, as if that would offer her any extra smidgeof privacy, or maybe protection. “I can prove it’s me, yeah? The first thingyou ever said to me—this you, I mean, not the other you, the first one, myfirst one anyway, dunno how many of you there’ve been, cos—cos you haven’t goneand changed again, have you? You sound mostly the same. You’re still you, right?”

She couldn’t blame himfor not replying that time; that was a nice bit of word salad, that was. Rosecringed and pressed on.

“You’d just regenerated,after the Games Station, and—and you were going on about your hair, andBarcelona,” Rose continued, her voice low. “And then we crashed, and there wasthe bit with the fake Santas, and the Sycorax and Harriet Jones, and—and thatwas actually sort of awful what you did to her, by the way, I’ve had a good fewyears to think about it, doing the job I do, and that sort of thing gives you abit of perspective and it just wasn’t called-for, Doctor, I get why you wereangry but her decision was actually really understandable even if youpersonally disagreed with it—”

The sound of Mickeyloudly clearing his throat interrupted her, and she glanced round to see himflashing the stopwatch again. Sixty-two seconds.

“…but anyway,” Rosesaid, a little sheepish now. “I know you said this sort of thing wasimpossible, contact between different worlds, but it’s not. Not anymore.Whatever’s killing our universe is tearing holes in all of reality, and we’vegot a machine that can send signals through those holes, across the Void.That’s how I’m talking to you right now, Doctor. That’s how I’m able to ask youfor help.”

The silence quicklygrew to be unbearable. Rose checked the connection again. Would he really stayquiet this whole time? Wouldn’t he say anything?

“Please,” Rosepleaded, one last time. “Doctor, you’ve got to help.”

Now the Doctor was theone clearing his throat, but the noise was far from the impatient sound Mickeymade earlier. Rather, it sounded like he was moving something painful out ofthe way.

“Right. Yes. Ofcourse,” he said, and Rose imagined he was probably running his hand throughhis hair at that moment, mussing it even more wildly than usual. “But, erm. I’dneed more information. A lot more information. Definitely more than you couldtransmit over the course of such a brief phone call. And even then, I’m notcertain how much I can do, not being there myself.”

Rose glanced at thestopwatch in Mickey’s hand. Thirty-four seconds.

“Is there any way youcould come here?” she asked hurriedly. “Since all these holes have opened up,could you pilot the TARDIS through?”

“No.”

“Oh,” said Rose,biting her lip in worry.

“Well now, hang on aminute, there’s no reason to get all gloomy,” the Doctor protested, and here hesounded so much more like himself that Rose couldn’t decide whether to laugh orcry. “Just because one solution won’t work, doesn’t mean nothing will. Myreadings indicate too many quantum instabilities for the TARDIS to digest atthe moment, but I’ve got other things in the ol’ think-tank that could work.Big things. Important things. Big, important things.”

“Impressive things?”Rose asked with the ghost of a smile.

“Terribly impressivethings, Rose Tyler. Terribly impressive. It’s only a matter of determining allthe potential confounding variables and considering all of the resources at ourdisposal. For example, if I could procure a Void-worthy vessel, that would beneat. Or perhaps I can build one, though I’m not certain where to obtain thenecessary molecular resistance buffers this time of year…”

Mickey smacked Rose’sarm for attention, mouthing the words that were passing through Rose’s brain atthat very moment.

Dimension cannon.

“We’ve got somethingthat could work,” Rose said, nodding.

“‘Could work’?” theDoctor repeated. “Could work. Thatsounds…encouraging,” he said, in a tone that suggested it didn’t sound veryencouraging at all.

“I mean, it shouldwork. It does work. The trials wereall a huge success. The program was just put on hold for stupid administrativereasons.”

“Being?”

Eleven seconds. Rosehesitated, wasting time she knew she didn’t have.

“It’s modeled afterrecovered Cyberman tech,” she confessed.

Probably he wasscratching the back of his neck now. “Eh, not ideal, but if it’ll bring meover…”

“It will, we’ve justgot to send me first.”

“What?” the Doctorsnapped, suddenly stern. “No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Well, yeah, that’show it works—I go over there, establish a connection point, grab you, bring youback.”

“No. There’s no waythat technology is refined or stable enough to safely transport a human.”

“Excuse me, but we didall right,” Rose shot back, indignant. “I’m sorry it’s not Time Lord enough foryou, but it still does the job—”

“Rose, no.”

“Doctor, we haven’tgot time—”

The stopwatch chirpedout a warning tone and Julie slammed the kill switch, ending the call with asickening whine. Although the lights flickered queasily overhead, they didn’tblack out this time; a few shuddering gasps later, everything returned to fullpower. At least they wouldn’t be getting any nasty calls from their supervisorstomorrow.

Although if tomorrownever happened, then that would hardly matter, would it?

“Mickey,” Rose said,pulling off her headset. “How do you feel about pulling some strings and makingsome threats?”

Mickey grinned. “I feelpretty good about it.”

***

After a brief (and very cold) scrub-off in the medbayshower, and struggling (but ultimately succeeding, she’d like to point out)with leggings and stockings and a jumper, Rose accepts Donna’s help with therest of her clothes only a little reluctantly—she feels like a child, lettingDonna fuss over her, buttoning her cardigan over the jumper, pulling a slouchyknit cap down over her ears, winding Rose’s old scarf round her neck. Rose askswhere she managed to scrounge the scarf up from and Donna just tuts and wavesher off. Rose gets the distinct impression that Donna can be downrightJackielike, when she wants to be.

“At least you’re not plugged into the IV station anymore,”Donna remarks as she helps Rose step into a pair of comfy, chunky boots, lacingthem up after. “Can you imagine carting that thing all over the place?”

“How long was I out, anyway?” Rose asks, doing her resolutebest not to sway on her feet.

“Well, you know how it is—kind of difficult to tell thatsort of thing on the TARDIS. But by my best estimate—maybe thirty hours?”

“Thirty hours?” Rose repeats weakly. “I don’t know ifthey’ve got even half an hour, back home.”

Donna shoots her a reassuring smile. “Except that’s anotherthing the Doctor’s good at, taking that sort of business into account. We’vebeen floating in the Vortex this whole time—I imagine he’s planning to pop backto the very moment after you arrived, just as soon as you’re up and runningagain. Yeah?”

Of course she’s right. Rose suddenly feels quite stupid anduncertain, and uncomfortable in a way that’s surely got nothing to do with theDoctor running away, the fact that he isn’t here to tell her all of thishimself. “Yeah,” she echoes, quietly.

Donna’s face softens. “We both know it’ll be all right,don’t we? You’ll stop this thing, whatever it is. You and the Doctor both. It’swhat you do.”

Rose relaxes a little. “And you too, Donna.”

“Damn right, me too.” Pulling the boot-laces snugly, Donnastands up, brushing dust off her trousers. “Now, time to get out there and kickSpaceman’s scrawny little arse into gear. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Rose replies.

(Which is to say, not at all.)

***

Now it was Rose’s oldmobile that rang, just seconds before Rose planned to hit the “call” button.

“Listen to me, Rose,”said the Doctor, his voice sharp with urgency. “Whatever you’re getting readyto attempt, do not do it. Do you hear me? Do not do it.”

“What, can you see usright now?” asked Mickey, frowning into his mic as he glanced around the tent,through the plastic window to the outside world, as if the Doctor may walk outof the ocean or materialize at any second from behind a rock or damp sand dune.

“In a manner ofspeaking, yes. And what you’re doing is terribly dangerous, and worse, terriblystupid.”

“It’s exactly the samething you were talking about,” said Rose. She nodded in thanks to thetechnician securing the last pieces of her spacesuit, tightening the chestplatewith a click. (The US may have been completely bonkers, but God bless NASA, shethought.) “We’ve got a Void-worthy vessel. We’re going to use the Void-worthyvessel.”

“We call it ‘thedimension cannon’,” Mickey piped up.

“Oh, lovely, adimension cannon, well. Fancy-sounding, sophisticated name like that doesn’tsound at all like something contrived out of a cheap sci-fi. But tell me, justout of curiosity: precisely how many successful runs did you complete with thiscontraption before you were shut down? Not trials, mind—runs. How many?”

“Enough,” Mickeyreplied stubbornly.

“Now there’s an answerthat inspires confidence,” said the Doctor, his voice dry. “Mickey—that isMickey, isn’t it? I can only assume you would have let Rose talk you into thisreckless venture—Mickey, under no circumstances are you to let Rose do anythingstupid, no matter what she says to you. No matter what. That technology isdangerous. It could kill her, maim her, tear her to pieces, lose her in theVoid, any number of absolutely horrendous and horrifying things. Do youunderstand me? This could get Rose killed.”

Mickey shot Rose aworried glance. Wordlessly, she looked back at him, jaw set, stance firm.Pleading. She would do this with or without his help (but of course he knewthat, he had to know that, and surely the Doctor did too); still, she wouldmuch prefer to go forth into the great dark unknown with the comfort of Mickeyhaving her back.

Besides—the last stardisappeared from the sky not half an hour earlier.

They were running outof options.

“Sorry, boss,” Mickeysays into the mic. “I trust her more than I trust you.”

The Doctor groaned infrustration. “Mickey—”

“Doctor,” Roseinterrupted firmly. “I appreciate your concern, I really do, but we’re hardlyjumping into this blindly. We’ve assembled a team of the world’s top engineers,astronomers, physicists, and experts in alien tech—including a number of actualaliens—to help design a number of machines designed to project things acrossthe Void, and the machines work. They work, Doctor. The tech may not be assophisticated as anything you’re accustomed to, but it’s functional; it’s howwe managed to call you before, why you’re able to talk to us right now.”

“A phone call ishardly the same thing as the safe transmission of human life, Rose—”

“The cannon, inparticular, is designed specifically for projecting organic material across theVoid,” Rose continued, louder now. “We’ve collaborated with NASA on a specialextravehicular mobility suit, specially designed to keep organic material safeand alive in the Void. We’ve built a launch platform at Bad Wolf Bay, where expertshave determined the walls to be the weakest between us and the Void. And ourtechs have pinpointed, down to the precise second, the best time to launchacross the Void. There’s a lot we don’t know right now, about the stars goingout, and how, and why, but we know what we need to, to get me safely to you.Yeah?”

Drawing in a deepbreath, Rose steadied herself. “Look, I know this mission isn’t without itsrisks. But we’ve calculated them, and they’re worth it. We can’t bring you overwithout establishing a connection point first; we can’t do that without me. Wemay not be Time Lords, but we’ve still done our research, and we’ve at leastgot enough brains and know-how to get us where we need to go.”

“And most importantly,we’ve got Rose,” Mickey added. “You may not believe in the tech, but youbelieve in her. Right?”

Rose imagined theDoctor gripping the edge of the TARDIS console, eyes wild and unseeing, mouthopen as he searched for the right words to stop her. She flashed Mickey atender smile.

“That’s not—that’sbeside the point,” the Doctor stuttered. “That’s not the issue here. If thatcannon isn’t perfectly calibrated, if that suit isn’t one-thousand-percentairtight, if you’ve miscalculated in any way—”

“I’ve got him,” Julieannounces from her position at the control desk. “Triangulated the TARDIS callsignal; quantum coordinate set with an error-margin of less than .004%. Readyto initiate launch whenever you are, Agent Tyler.”

“Listen, Rose—at leastlet me help, for goodness’ sake, at least give me time to calibrate some kindof collimated beam to help you land safely—”

“Agent Tyler?”

Rose looked up to findJulie watching her expectantly; she glanced round to see half the UNIT scienceteam crowded into the tent as well, watching, waiting. One of them, a mother offive whose children and partner all sat terrified at home, had chewed her nailsdown to the quick; another team member twisted his mouth in worry, and Roseknew he was thinking of his cousin, embroiled neck-deep in one of thosegodforsaken Apocalypse cults.

She couldn’t quitebring herself to meet Julie’s eyes. Everyone there knew what happened to herhusband, months before—what had happened to so many people who despaired overthe impending death of everything in the world. Everyone knew; no one daredmention it.

(He didn’t even leavea note.)

All of them stood withshoulders and fists wired to stiff tension, all of them silent, some of themstanding with eyes closed, as if in prayer, others trembling with apprehensionand worry. And perhaps just the smallest, tiniest hint of hope.

Heart thudding dullybehind her ribs, Rose stepped closer to Mickey, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I have complete faiththat we’re going to succeed,” she said, so that only he and the Doctor couldhear. “But just in case…you know how much I love you, right?”

Mickey nodded againsther head. “Love you too, babe,” he murmured, hugging her tighter.

The Doctor, of course,said nothing.

No stopwatch told Rosewhen to end the call, this time. (They didn’t even bother bringing thestopwatch, this time.)

“See you on the otherside, Doctor,” she said, hanging up before he had a chance to reply.

Swallowing hard, Rosehanded Mickey the headset. She waited patiently while Julie and the other techsscurried round to complete all their last-minute tasks, attaching her helmet,booting up the cannon, checking and double-checking and triple-checking everylast thing. Rose’s breath fogged up the inside of her helmet as she stepped outof the tent into the grey Norwegian morning, the shrieks of seagulls and crashof the waves muffled by the plastic and padding round her ears.

The beach looked everybit as depressing as the last time she saw it. Hopefully that wasn’t any sortof sign.

“Okay,” she breathed,willing her heart to slow, her nerves to calm. “I’m ready.”

***

The sight is still so familiar, it’s staggering; Rose has tobrace herself against the railing when she sees him at the console, his leanframe angled elegantly over a keyboard as he watches figures flash across oneof those monitors he’s got rigged askance all over the desk. If it wasn’t forthe shorter haircut and the ridiculously long scarf he’s got wrapped around hisneck to keep out the cold, Rose could almost believe she’d accidentally steppedback in time and arrived in the console room four years ago—at any moment, shehalf-expects the Doctor to flash her one of his brilliant grins before whiskingher away on a brand-new adventure.

He does no such thing. He’s too busy glowering at themonitor, like it wronged him. But slowly his focus shifts from the monitor, andnow he looks at Rose.

A small eternity passes in the moment they lock eyes.

Rose represses a shudder. The piercing intensity of theDoctor’s gaze knocks the breath out of her—far worse than anything she everexperienced in the Void. She suddenly has a deep appreciation for the tendencyof his enemies to back down under that stare. She can’t say she blames them.Instead she forces herself to hold his gaze, forbids her eyes from giving in tothe nigh-overwhelming desire to look him over, all over, before sprinting upthe steps to wrap her arms snug around him, reassuring herself that he’s here,with her, and he’s the same, and he’s him.

Telltale pressure burns behind her sinuses but she sets herjaw and wills the would-be tears away. She can think about all of that later—first,she’s got a mission to complete. A universe to save. She can’t let whateverfeelings she may-or-may-not-have about the Doctor get in her way of anything soimportant as that.

“I’m not sorry,” she blurts out, silently cursing herselfafter.

Arching an eyebrow, the Doctor returns to his keyboard andmonitor, back stiff. “Well, hello to you, too.”

“You still cross with me?”

His noncommittal grunt reminds her so fiercely of her firstDoctor, she aches. God, but she’s missed him, too. Rose forces herself not tobetray her nervousness, not to fidget with the hem of her cardigan.

“You would have done exactly the same thing,” she says, hervoice gentle, now. “And you know it.”

The Doctor hmphsunder his breath, and continues typing commands into the keyboard as if Roseisn’t there.

She sighs, shivering with the cold. Fine. It’s as good an opportunityas any to shuffle round the console room, absorbing all the sights, feeling thebuzz of the TARDIS beneath her soles, listening to her hum reverberating in thewalls. It’s pitched a little higher than usual, like the TARDIS is happy to seeher again; the feeling is mutual. Happiness floods Rose, filling her chest likethe golden glow from the central column, and she places a hand on a coralstrut, almost reverently this time, resting her forehead against it, after.

She draws in a deep breath, like she could fill her lungswith the TARDIS’ joy. She was starting to fear she’d never feel that again;Rose has never been more happy to be wrong.

Standing back, Rose sends her fingers traveling over thesandpaper-rough coral down to the handrail, and she follows the handrail up tothe landing, to the creaky old leather jumpseat, running a hand along itsstitches and tears. Sitting sounds marvelous, all of a sudden (thirty hours’worth of sleep, how is she still so tired?), so Rose turns round, braces herhands against the seat and tries to hoist herself up. Of course, her shakingarms and quivering legs have other ideas, and the next thing she knows, she’sslipped half an inch and suddenly the Doctor is at her side, hands steadyingher by the waist.

(She has a flash-memory of a dip on New Earth and the newDoctor pulling her upright, pulling her close; her face mere inches from his, shefeels every bit as lightheaded and disoriented now as she did back then.)

“Hullo,” she says quietly, smiling.

The Doctor does not smile. “Why didn’t you just listen tome?”

“Ooh, look, we match,” says Rose, reaching down to fiddlewith the Doctor’s scarf. She pulls the ends up to hers, and frowns. “Yours ismuch longer, though. That’s rubbish. I want a lovely long scarf.”

“Are you even listening to me right now?”

“Hmm-mm.” Rose plays with the tails of his scarf, rollingthe knit hem between her fingers. “So let’s skip whatever squabbling you havein mind and go straight to the happy reunion, yeah? Hey Doctor, long time no see, fancy helping me save the universe?”

His mouth pinches into a thin line. “You could have died,Rose.”

“Didn’t, though. Doesn’t that count for something?”

The Doctor laughs mirthlessly, stowing his hands in hispockets. “Yes, I suppose it does, in much the same way that one should begrateful for surviving a round of Russian Roulette.”

“False equivalency,” Rose replies.

Opening his mouth to argue, the Doctor suddenly stops,blinks in surprise.

“What? I do read. Andanyway, it wasn’t like that at all. Donna told me about the sabotage attempt.”

“Yes, turns out your ultra-fancy, specially-designed,supposedly airtight NASA suit wasn’t so airtight after all. Though that was, asyou mentioned, the byproduct of sabotage rather than an inherent design flaw,” theDoctor admits, if a bit grudgingly.

“Yeah, and it sounds like things would have gone off withouta hitch, otherwise,” Rose says. “So why don’t you tell me the real reason you’recross?”

Glancing away, the Doctor sighs. “It was just an unnecessaryrisk is all.”

“I dunno, the survival of my universe seems pretty necessaryto me.”

“But it isn’t the only reason you leapt at the chance tocome back here, is it?”

He won’t meet her gaze when he says it. Rose stubbornlylooks him in the face anyway.

“No,” she admits. “It isn’t.”

Eyes sliding shut, the Doctor shakes his head.

“I missed you,” Rose says, despite the anxiety flutteringwildly in her stomach, urging her to bottle these feelings back up before they getthemselves bruised. “So I did what I had to, to get back. Is that really sostupid?”

“It’s not,” he replies, softly. “But it seems grotesquelyunfair, or cruel, even, to expose me to the possibility of experiencing such aloss all over again.”

Guilt prickles at the back of Rose’s mind, and somethingelse, too, some indescribable feeling so big and overwhelming she has to purseher lips tight to hold it back. Tears begin welling up behind her eyes againand her toes curl in her boots with the effort of damming them.

“Well, at least I tried,” she bites out. “I’m sorry if that’sa problem for you.”

Tensing, the Doctor draws back, ready to walk away; panicthudding dully in her ears, Rose stops him with her hands on his chest.

“Please don’t go,” she murmurs. Her hands slip beneath thetails of his scarf to wrap around his jacket lapels, holding on tight. Bowingher head, she steps close, so close she can feel the warmth of her breathtrapped between them. She tightens her hold. “Please,” she says again,swallowing.

He doesn’t reply. But at least he doesn’t try to turn awayagain. That seems like a good sign at least. He still won’t look at her,though.

“God, this isn’t at all how I thought this would go,” Roseconfesses to the Doctor, or rather to his chest, laughing shakily. “I thought—Idunno.” She runs her fingers along the coils of his scarf, plucking at a loosethread. “Thought I’d at least get a hug, or something. You know?”

The Doctor hesitates. Slowly, as if every atom in his bodyis resisting, screaming at him not to give in, he wraps his arms around Rose,the movement stiff and odd and almost painfully formal.

“Mm, yeah, that’s the stuff,” Rose says dryly, and she’srewarded by the Doctor rolling his eyes before he tightens his arms around her,pulling her in for a proper hug.

It’s—

She stifles a gasp.

It’s all really happening, isn’t it?

His arms wrap around her exactlythe way they used to, fists curling against her ribcage and drawing her in snugand close and just short of uncomfortably tight, and her arms snake beneath hisand cling to him just as hard; Rose buries her face in his scarf, breathing himin, and the nostalgia and hurt and longing and grief just wash over her inwaves, buffeting her like a buoy out at sea. The Doctor feels just how sheremembers, wiry and lean but solid, his double-heartsbeat against her chestbeating out a rhythm both alien and immensely comfortable, and he still smellsthe same, that quiet almost-not-smell of home, and the wool of his suit clingsto the whorls of her fingertips precisely the way she recalls; for some reason,that’s the thing that breaks the dam of her tears, bringing them pearlinguncontrollably in the corners of her eyes.

(The truth strikes her like an electric shock. She made it. She finally made it. She’s here, theDoctor’s here, and he’s cross with her but they’re together, he’s hugging herand he’s not going away and she’s not going away and he’s solid and his suit isscratchy and he cares about her and he’s holding her and he’s real.)

“I really, really missed you,” Rose confesses, and she’strying not to let the tears fall, she’s really trying, but she’s just so tiredand the effort of holding back means she’s shaking now, violently, harder andharder by the second. She buries her face against his scarf, like maybe she canhide it from him, like if she burrows deep enough, he won’t notice. Butsomething in him seems to loosen; Rose can feel him unwinding a little, even ashe tightens his grip on her. Now the hug truly is uncomfortable, but she’s notabout to tell him that.

She’s just tired, she tells herself. That’s the only reasonthe tears won’t stop and the hug is hard enough to hurt. It’s got nothing to dowith anything else, not the emotion forming a lump in her chest, not the Doctorpressing his face into her hair. Nothing else at all.

“I, erm. Don’t suppose you missed me?” Rose sniffs, despiteherself.

The Doctor chuckles sadly. “Don’t suppose I did.”

“Not at all?”

“Not even a little bit.”

With a small, watery grin, Rose draws back to look at him. “Liar,”she says softly.

The Doctor nods, his smile just as pale as hers. “It’s goodto see you again, Rose. It’s really good.”

“Yeah. You too.”

At that, the Doctor lets out a slow exhale, leaning forwardto press his forehead against Rose’s, their bodies so close that Rose can feelthe space between them buzzing. It would be quite easy, no effort at allreally, to push up on her toes and press a kiss to his lips, if she wanted. Hereaches up to touch her face, touch her hair, cup her cheek, like he’sreassuring himself she’s real; the gestures are so uncharacteristically sweetand sincere that it makes Rose ache. But things will go back to normal againsoon enough, she knows—normal for them, anyway—back to the silly and the scaryand the ridiculous and the words-nearly-said and feelings-barely-hidden. So fornow, Rose’s eyes flutter shut, and she loses herself in the moment, thealmost-sacred quiet closeness of it.

It’s good to be home.

After a moment, Rose pulls back, thumbing away the last ofher tears. “So,” she says, grabbing the Doctor’s scarf to dab her cheeks dryafterward, “ready to go save the world?”

“Don’t you think you should finish resting up first?”

Rose wrinkles her nose. “No, ta. Thirty hours’ sleep isplenty for me.”

“Eh, technically it was twenty-nine hours and eighteenminutes.”

“All right, twenty-nine hours and eighteen minutes, then,”Rose laughs, pulling out of the Doctor’s arms. “Still, I think I’ve restedplenty—”

And of course, as if they were only waiting for theopportunity, that’s the moment her knees choose to turn to jelly. Rose doesn’teven have time to shout out in alarm before the Doctor grabs her by the waistagain, pulling her upright.

“I’m fine,” Rose insists, even as her body trembles andshivers. (Stupid, treacherous body.)

“Uh-huh,” says the Doctor, eyebrow cocked in amusement. Heloops one of her arms around his shoulders. “Come on, you’re not going to doanyone any good falling all over the place,” he says, urging her along. “Let’sget you back to the medbay.”

“I can still save the world while falling over,” Roseprotests as she shuffles alongside him.

“Oh, undoubtedly, but it’s hardly dignified. Time to rest.Doctor’s orders.”

“This is why no one likes doctors,” Rose grumbles, and that’swhen, with a sigh heavy in resignation, the Doctor stops walking, leaving Roselurching in her tracks. He stoops low to sweep her legs out from under her,scooping her up bridal-style after; Rose gives a little shriek and clings tohis neck as he walks off with her, a smug grin playing across his face.

“Cheater,” says Rose, and his grin widens.

***

She’s surprised when they stop several doors short of themeday, at the library; the Doctor claims it’s only because she’s so heavy, andchuckles at the halfhearted smack she delivers to his shoulder. In any case, heinsists, he’s probably long overdue for a bit of a rest himself, as Donna hasbeen all-too-happy to remind him, and why not kill two birds with one stone? (“Notthat I’ve got anything in particular against birds, not like they can help itthat they’re germ-ridden little disease bombs,” the Doctor says.)

They reach the library settee, one of Rose’s favorite placesto lounge once upon a time; her heart swells with fondness for the Doctor andhis eidetic memory and his wonderful ship, and once more she’s filled with thatsense of time-traveler’s déjà vu, that lovely feeling like she’s stepped backinto the past and transcended the years and distance between them. When theDoctor moves to deposit Rose, her grip on him tightens just a little—partly it’sa hug, partly a silent request not to let go. Admittedly she feels a littlesilly and needy doing it, clinging to him like a child or a desperate lover,but afterward, the Doctor seems to change his mind, turning round to plunkhimself down on the settee instead, Rose still in his arms.

(Hmm. Maybe she’s not the only one who’s just a littleclingy, then.)

Settling Rose’s legs over his lap, the Doctor leans over tosnatch a blanket off a nearby chair—it’s blush-pink and ridiculously soft, certainlynot something he would have chosen; Rose wonders if Donna brought it onboard—andhe wraps it around Rose, tucking it in at the corners. He procures the sonic fromhis pocket and switches on the telly before nestling back, resting comfortablyin his old spot on the settee with one arm round Rose’s waist, the otherresting casually atop her legs. Casually, like it hasn’t been four years sincethe last time they watched telly together, like this is still part of theeveryday, for them.

Later, Rose thinks she’ll have to tease him for being so domestic. Now, she snuggles close,arching upward just long enough to plant a kiss on his cheek. She does itquickly, before she can think better of it. After, she pulls back, nervous,biting her lip in uncertainty.

Of course the Doctor doesn’t say anything (he never doeswhen he should, does he?) but his Adam’s apple bobs nervously and he squeezesher waist. And when she buries her face against his neck, her cheeks burning,he hums deep in his chest, a pleased little sound.

It’s nice, all cozied up together like this. It’s the firsttime Rose has felt warm in months.

“So tomorrow, we save the world?” she asks.

The Doctor nods, eyes fixed on the telly screen and whatevernonsense is playing across it. “Tomorrow,” he says softly.

***

240 notes · View notes

whistlewhileiblogit · 6 years

Text

Telltale Batjokes/Juce Soulmate AU Fic

A/N: The long awaited soulmate Au fic!! It is longer than I intended, welp ;_; Also go easy on me because it’s been years since I have last uploaded writing and this is my first time doing so on Tumblr. ALSO I know a lot of you guys suggested I kept my original idea and not change it after the ending of S2 BUT I actually felt that this ended up working out a lot better but yeah anyway enjoy! <3

“Who- who are you?” Bruce stammered, still visibly shaken from the beating he’d just taken. The man who had saved him knelt down in front of him, a concerned expression on his porcelain face. He wore an Arkham inmate uniform, although he had a long sleeved purple shirt underneath the standard white uniform, with only his left sleeve rolled up.

“Buddy, aww buddy...are you okay?” Bruce blinked. Did this man just...?

“You don’t look so grand...more like the opposite. What would that be?” Bruce blinked, his head still fuzzy, mind racing. Had this man really just said what he think he heard him say?

Bruce realised the man was waiting, wide-eyed and expectantly for a response.

“I...thank you. I appreciate the help.” Bruce stammered, his blue eyes locked onto the pale man’s vibrant green ones.

“You’re welcome,” the man said, snapping Bruce out of his thoughts.

“If we don’t look out for each other, who will, right?” Bruce furrowed his brow at the stranger, taking in his forest-green hair, unable to deter a strong urge to run his hands through it as a woman walked into the room. Her white coat showed she was a doctor, and she didn’t look pleased. The man stood up quickly, like a school-boy caught causing mischief. Bruce wondered if violence was a common occurrence with this man.

“What’s going on in here?” she demanded in a firm, but still polite voice. Bruce barely opened his mouth before the strange man spoke up.

“It’s like I told you Doctor! These creeps were attacking the new guy!” he held a hand out to the unconscious men on the floor. Bruce resisted a smile, rubbing a thumb lightly over his right hip under the guise of rubbing a sore spot. He needed to speak to this man alone...somehow.

“Well who did THAT? Was it you?” the doctor raised an accusatory eyebrow at the green-haired stranger.

“Of course not!” He quickly lied, “it was mostly over by the time I got in. The new guy is tougher than he looks. Right buddy?” He bent over, holding a hand out to Bruce, who took it gingerly. He wasn’t a fan of being held accountable for this guy’s violence. Even if this man was meant to be his…

Bruce grunted as he was pulled up by the stranger. His hands were surprisingly warm, Bruce noted. He had been expecting an ice cold touch to match the colour of his skin.

The doctor inclined her head towards Bruce, “Bruce, is that really what happened?” she asked.

Bruce paused.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s what happened.” the words slipped from his lips before he had even thought it through. He glanced quickly from the man then back to the doctor.

“We have a very strict no fighting policy here in Arkham. If you can't find obey that rule...you’re going to find yourself in hot water fast.” she stated plainly.

“The orderly that was here before took money from these men and let them into my room! He gave them a taser!” Bruce could feel his blood rising again. He knew it was probably still the effects of the drug Vicki had injected into him, but he was still having a hard time ignoring the urge to wrap his hands around someone’s throat.

The doctor didn’t seem to notice his flaring temper, as she replied, “I knew that you coming to arkham could cause some...excitement. But I didn’t expect it to happen so fast. I’ll do my best to keep you safe, but I need you to be careful.” Bruce glowered at her, his temper calming down only slightly.

“Us nice guys gotta stick together. Am I right?” The stranger smiled over at Bruce, drawing his attention back in to his handsome face. Bruce was shocked as a wave of calmness washed over him.

“Thank you, I appreciate the effort.” he nodded politely to the Doctor, forcing a smile.

She smiled back at him, “I’m glad you’re so understanding after what just happened. Good thing help wasn’t far away.” She and Bruce stared over at him. Bruce bit his lip. Did he know? If he did, he hadn’t showed it.

“Hey I’m just looking out for the new guy.” He shrugged casually.

“I’m Doctor Joan Leland, by the way. Head of Psychiatry. I’ll be overseeing your case personally. We’ll get you transferred to a new room, Bruce,” she indicated the blood stains all over the room, “one that doesn’t have your...blood all over it.”

Bruce was hardly listening, distracted as his shoulder brushed against the green-haired man. He couldn’t help but wonder if the man had done it intentionally.

“For now, follow me.” Doctor Leland ordered, leading them out of the room.

Bruce took his chance as they began to walk together, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever got your name-?”

The man paused, a discernible expression on his face, then glanced over to Bruce, an eyebrow raised and a devilish smirk on his face.

“Me?” he asked.

“He’s never given his name out to anybody.” Doctor Leland chimed in, when the man had begun to laugh maniacally to himself.

“We just call him ‘John Doe’.” she added, as they continued on.

“Bingo!” The man-or now, John, Bruce supposed- began laughing to himself once more, as though it were the funniest thing that only he knew his real name.

“John is one of our most improved patients.” Doctor Leland began as the trio headed down the vast halls of Arkham. “He’s been with us for quite some time. I’m sure he’d be willing to show you around. Right John?” Bruce wasn’t listening, however, but rather staring at John. His hand brushed over his hip again, his thumb grazing that same spot once more. He knew what words had been imprinted there, what words had always been there. Words he had waited his entire life to hear. Words he had long since forgotten about, too busy, too hurt to bother considering that he would ever actually hear them. The very first words his soulmate would say to him.

But John...he was a patient. How could Bruce deal with whatever baggage this man carried, when he already carried the weight of the world’s on his back?

“Oh yeah, I’ll show him the whole nine yards.” John smirked, striding casually down the halls with his hands placed behind his back.

“I think it would be best if you stay by his side for now.” Doctor Leland suggested. Bruce couldn’t believe it. This was just too ridiculously perfect for this not to be real. Ever since childhood he’d been told how soulmates not only find each other, but are always somehow...drawn to be with one another. That it was impossible to avoid your fate. Maybe his parents were right.

Bruce, lost in thought, lingered slowly behind John and Doctor Leland, only vaguely listening to their conversation on John’s improvement, when an arm suddenly reached out and gripped Bruce’s own. “I CAN’T TASTE ANYTHING!!! I WANT TO TASTE!!!” A patient screamed at Bruce as he pulled out of his grip. A couple of orderlies rushed in to handle things, and John raised an eyebrow over at Bruce, “You gotta be more careful Bruce...some of these guys bite.”

Bruce said nothing, but moved to stay on the opposite side of the hall, away from the cells.

“Do you remember the first time you let me into the rec room, Doctor Leland?” John started up again. Bruce decided paying attention would be the better choice. After all, he had no idea how long he would have to be in Arkham for...and getting to know John could only be good, right?

“How could I forget?” Doctor Leland replied fondly.

“You had to teach me how to play checkers.” John reminisced. Bruce wondered how long exactly John had been in Arkham, if he’d never known how to play checkers.

Doctor Leland didn’t get to respond, as an inmate suddenly ran towards an old phone, “No no… you need to let me go! I have to warn the president! They’re trying to kill me!!!” He wailed, being dragged away by two orderlies quickly.

“They don’t like it when you try to use the phone.” John whispered warningly, but not quiet enough that Doctor Leland didn’t hear.

“That’s because phones are for staff use only. No exceptions.” She glanced quickly at Bruce, who couldn’t help feel slightly defensive at her accusatory stare.

“Didn’t stop that guy from trying...such persistence.” John quickly moved over the the door of the patients cell, banging on it aggressively, “Wrong number, dumbass!”

“John!” snapped Doctor Leland. John immediately stopped, a doe-eyed expression on his face.

They finally stopped at two double doors. “I’ll come by to check on you two later.” Doctor Leland said.

“Don’t worry about us, Doctor Leland! I’m gonna take good care of him.” John replied as he lead Bruce through the doors to the rec room. He opened his arms widely, “Welcome... to Arkham Asylum. Believe it or not, some of these people are crazy!” Bruce took in the entire room, mentally mapping out everything he could. How many guards there were, the exits, the patients, and the quality of everything within. “But everyone’s friendly. Mostly.” John added with a smile. “I’d watch yourself around those two.” He inclined his head over towards an old man with a sock puppet, and a shirtless bald man covered in scars that looked eerily like tally marks.

“Thanks for the warning.” Bruce said softly.

“No problem, buddy.” John replied casually, his demeanour like one who was showing a new employee around the workplace. “Let’s see...on the couch, that’s Sane Lewis. His favourite show’s on. Never misses it.” The television was playing static. John stood in front of the man, cupping his hands together, a sweet smile on his face. “Alright friendo- commercial break. Get up!” he snapped, but needn’t go any further as the man rushed away hastily. As Bruce neared, John had begun looking around the area, his hands placed thoughtfully on his hips. Bruce wondered if his words were in the same spot on John as they were on himself. “Where is...the remote? One of the orderlies must have taken it. Never fear though! I’ll go ask Leland. She likes me.” He boasted proudly, going to head past Bruce before pausing with a blink. “I almost forgot. Here.” Before Bruce realised what he was doing, John’s hand was in his, as he felt the weight of something chunky and metallic hit his palm. He glanced down. It was an old fashioned key.

“What is this?” He asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. John simply smiled, and walked away. Bruce decided it would be best to figure out what the key was for later, pocketing it quickly.

Bruce spent some time listening in to other inmates conversations, and even attempting to use the key a couple of times to no avail. He refused to admit the slight relief he felt when John entered the room once more.

“Hey there, buddy boy!” John waved, “Ya missed me? I missed you.” John made himself comfortable in the old worn out armchair he had forced Sane Lewis out of, placing his feet up as he turned the tv on to the news.

Bruce watched as Harvey Dent- his old friend spoke of the Children of Arkham, how he was going to clean up Gotham’s streets. John scowled, “Never anything good on, is there?”

Bruce contemplated his next move. He by no means planned on staying in Arkham for long, but he did need to speak to John...no matter how suspicious he seemed. Sighing to himself, he walked over to John, “Your key. It didn’t work.”

John giggled inwardly, “Of course not, that’s not how you get out of here.” He grinned up at Bruce, his laughter apparently hard to control as he spoke, “You tried it though, didn’t you! That’s hilarious!” Bruce frowned, unamused, and the two men both turned their attention back towards the tv. “Politicians usually bore me to tears, but this one? This one has become a lot more interesting lately...” he turned to Bruce with a smirk, then back to the tv once more.

“In my Gotham no one’s above the law. Including Bruce Wayne.” Bruce felt John’s eyes boring into him, but was determined to keep a straight face, keeping his eyes forward. “After his vicious attack on Oswald Cobblepot I had Mr. Wayne committed to Arkham Asylum where I hope he’ll receive the treatment he so desperately needs.” Bruce gritted his teeth as his mind began reeling again. That same urge to strangle someone had returned, only this time it was directed towards Harvey.

“That double crossing, two-faced-”

“I thought you and the mayor were friends?” John smirked. He was trying to rile Bruce up, and if he had been in the right state of mind he would be able to shrug it off. But this was different. “Harvey was my friend. I can’t believe he’s the one who put me in here.”

“Sounds like you need better friends.” John muttered, a slight inflection in his voice. Was he implying himself? “Slim picking around here though. I’ve looked.” He added sadly, before turning back to the tv, catching the ending of Harvey’s speech. “Now THIS is good television!” He laughed. “‘Mayor on a rampage’ versus ‘Freaky Drug Terrorist’!” He chuckled to himself.

“Lady Arkham’s dangerous, way more dangerous than you think.” Bruce warned him, feeling the effects of the drugs calming down again, hopefully for the last time.

“Ohhhh I know about Lady Arkham, let me tell you...”

“-Tragically, there’s still no sign of Gotham Gazette reporter, Vicki Vale, after her mysterious disappearance earlier this week.” The news reporter read as a photo of Vicki-Lady Arkham- flashed on the screen.

“Very tricky, Vicki.” John commented, leaning over to Bruce, resting his chin in the palm of his hand knowingly, “I think we both know she’s quite the ‘Lady’. Right Bruce?”

Bruce felt his eyes widen, unable to hide his surprise. Who was this man? How did he know…

“Wait, you know that Vicki is...Tell me what you know-” Bruce began, only to be interrupted b John, who was clearly enjoying this.

“You want to find Vicki and her drugs huh? Get your revenge just like you got your revenge on Cobblepot? Publicly and dramatically! Something entertaining for these newscasters to talk about.” He smirked at Bruce.

“That all depends on you. If your information is good, we’ll see.” Bruce answered sternly. Soulmate or not, he didn’t trust this guy as far as he could throw him. He was starting to be relieved that this man didn’t seem to know at least that fact about him.

“I knew I liked you.” John smiled, rising to his feet. “I’ve been watching you for a while now, Bruce.” He spoke in a husky voice, one that sent chills down Bruce’s spine, and he wasn’t certain whether it was from fear, or something else. “And I can tell there’s something...darker in you.” John was staring at Bruce almost predatorily now. Bruce fought the urge to match his stare, knowing it was probably better not to compete with John. But those eyes...they were impossible to look away from. Despite all of this, Bruce still wanted to know...who exactly was John Doe?

One Year Later…

Bruce didn’t know what to say, as he sat across from John...or was it still Joker? Bruce realised he didn’t even know what to call his best friend anymore. He almost let out a laugh at that thought. Best friend. He knew that their relationship had long since passed that territory, yet also neither of them had ever had the guts to say so. That was until a month ago, when everything had just gone straight downhill…

“I was such an idiot.” John’s voice rang clear as day through Bruce’s memory. “I was so busy looking at you. Admiring you. Wanting to be like you.” He had paused, hesitated. “Be loved by you.” Bruce still remembered the lump in his throat in that moment. Maybe because it was the same one he had in this very instant.

“H-hi John.” He finally stammered, forcing himself to look John right in those big green eyes of his. He hoped he’d picked the right name.

“Oh Bruce, I-I’m so happy to see you!” John’s arms reached out, and Bruce prepared himself for those infamous hugs John seemed to love giving him. But it never came, as John hesitantly pulled his arms back into his lap. “Sorry...probably not a good idea...given the circumstances.”

Bruce sighed softly, out of relief that he was in fact going by John once more. He licked his lips, feeling his mouth was completely dry, his palms sweaty...why did he have to be so nervous around John? So uncertain? He had lived most of his life faking emotion for others, being able to pretend he was cool, calm, confident. But never with John. Nothing could ever be fake with John.

“It’s good to see you too, John.” Bruce stared down at his lap. He needed to get so much off his chest. Things he had wished he had been brave to speak about long before all of this happened. But talking about his feelings did not come as a second nature to Bruce, and usually when he tried, he’d screw things up.

“Why?” John suddenly uttered, turning Bruce’s attention back to him. “After everything I did...why wouldn’t you just leave me here to rot? Everyone else has.” John sounded so vulnerable, like he might even cry. Bruce had never wanted to hold him more. John hissed abruptly, cradling his right hand in his left. He rubbed a thumb lightly over his palm, where a dark bruised scar with stitches ran along it. Bruce winced alongside John, not even realising he had extended a hand to lightly touch it.

John fell silent as Bruce traced his finger along the ridges of the stitches, finally staring back up at Bruce.

“You’re my f-...you...mean a lot to me, John. And for what it’s worth, I’m so sorry about this.” Bruce gave him a small smile, scooting closer to examine the stitches further. “Heh...two threads in the same stitch, right?” Bruce’s smile dropped as quickly as it had appeared. “Sorry, that’s not fu-”

He paused as John slowly began chuckling, watching as it grew into full on laughter.

“That is funny Bruce...I think I may be starting to rub off on you...” He smiled over at Bruce, and for a moment it seemed like it used to be. Maybe even better.

Bruce cleared his throat nervously, realising he was still holding John’s hand, and released it, standing as if he were merely stretching. He needed to change the subject, before he could back out. “John,” He was finding it really hard to look him in the eyes now, and knew undoubtedly that John would notice his strange behaviour.

“That’s my name.” John said lightly. Bruce spun on his heel to face the green haired man once more. “But it isn’t really, is it?” John blinked innocently. “No, I uh...guess I forgot.”

Bruce sighed again, running a hand through his hair anxiously.

“Look I- we need to talk about that night.” To his surprise, John nodded in agreement.

“I know...I was kinda just hoping you wouldn’t mention it, though.” He sheepishly added, placing a hand behind his back. “A lot of things were said and done, but we can just start over and pretend none of it ever ha-” He stared up at Bruce, who stood in front of him with folded arms and an eyebrow raised. “Can’t hurt a guy for trying, Brucie!”

Bruce smiled briefly, before drawing in a nervous breath. “I think this will work best if I just talk for a moment with no interruptions, okay?” John nodded, sitting up attentively, hugging something close to his chest. Bruce had to do a double take to realise it was a small handmade doll of...himself?

Bruce shook his head. That wasn’t important right now. “Okay...that night you...you said you wanted to be...uhh...” neither of the men were quite looking each other in the eye now. They knew where this was going. “...you wanted to be loved by me...” he forced the words out, feeling as if he was back in school having to give a formal speech to his teacher again. He hastened a look at John, who stared back at him wordlessly. He was biting his bottom lip, as if he was trying to not burst out in denial. Bruce sort of wished he would. Denial was a lot easier than this. “But the thing is...I, err...” John’s eyes widened now, his head tilting in morbid curiosity. “You…?” He uttered so softly Bruce wasn’t even sure he heard it. Bruce closed his eyes, unable to say exactly what was on his mind, when suddenly… I don’t have to say it! He thought, and began hastily unbuckling his belt.

If John’s eyes could have widened further, they would have. “Uhh, Bruce…?” He stared on simultaneously confused yet excited, he had to admit.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Bruce mumbled bashfully, finally loosening his belt enough that he could feel his pants giving enough slack for what he needed. He placed his thumb at his belt loop near his right hip, and his left hand at the bottom of his shirt, pulling both just enough apart that his hip showed. John squinted, leaning forward off the edge of his bed, before he finally saw it. Only slightly darker than his actual skin tone, read the first words John had ever spoken to Bruce. John blinked, before lunging off his bed at right at Bruce’s hip for a closer inspection. Bruce swallowed nervously at the placement they were in. It would not look good to any orderlies checking in on them to find them like this.

“Buddy, aww buddy...are you okay?” John read softly aloud...and then again, only a little louder. Before he finally leapt up with a loud, joyous laugh. One that sounded so differently from all the others. It wasn’t manic, or eerie. It was purely...bliss. He gripped Bruce’s shoulders, shaking him fervently. “That-that’s ME! Do you know what this means, Bruce?!” Bruce didn’t get to respond as John jumped excitedly, “It means I was RIGHT! Everyone in Arkham thought I was crazy! And Harley, she had me convinced that it couldn’t possibly be you, that it had to be a mistake! She said there was no WAY someone like you….OH!” He bit his lip between giggles, clenching his fists with excitement. “Hey Brucie, you ever wondered why I always keep this sleeve down?” He pointed to his right arm. “Betcha thought I just had weird fashion sense. HA!” Without warning, John yanked his sleeve up, and there, from the length of his wrist to the end of his forearm, clear as day against his milky white skin said, “Who are you?” Bruce read aloud. He now understood John’s compelling need to reread it over and over, as he began to do the same. “Who are you...that’s really it. I-I can’t believe it...” Bruce moved over to the bed, sitting down, awestruck. It had been an entire year since he had first met his soulmate, and yet it was only now he had really confirmed it was so. And boy, did it feel…

“This is amazing!” John exclaimed, finally pulling Bruce into the biggest hug he had ever done to him.

“It really is, isn’t it?” Bruce let out a small laugh, before pulling John back in a tight embrace. His nerves about all his feelings...they all seemed so stupid now. And there was no more need to try hide them, either.

The two men held each other for what felt like hours, before Bruce finally released John, only to do up his belt out of pure worry of someone walking in on them like that.

“Holy smokes.” John laughed, falling against the metal headrest of his bed. “I can’t believe it. I had thought maybe mine was a glitch, ya know? Or maybe it was only on my side...but...no...you’re my...we’re...” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “Soulmates!” He giggled like a schoolgirl, covering his mouth to muffle his laughter. Bruce had never wanted to kiss him more, and it felt great being able to admit that to himself.

“I know...it’s...a lot, to take in,” Bruce smiled, “I wish I had told you sooner. Maybe then all of this could have been avoided...if you had known-”

“Bruce.” John interrupted. “It’s about time I...take responsibility for my own actions. What I did wasn’t your fault. It’s on me...” He stared around his cell, “I have been in here almost my entire life...that’s obviously for a reason...maybe this is just where I am meant to be.” He sighed defeatedly.

“That’s bull, John.” Bruce raised an eyebrow, gaining the courage to place his hands on John’s, “Because we both know now that there is only one place you belong.” John smiled sweetly back at Bruce, closing his hands in Bruce’s.

“That’s with you, right?” He smiled a nervous, crooked grin at Bruce, who smirked back.

“Bingo.”

Bruce couldn’t tell who went in first. And to be honest, he didn’t care. All he knew, was that in a flash, his lips had met John’s, and his heart was racing faster than it ever had before. His chest was tight and he was kissing John with everything he had. Neither of them were trying to take it slow, it was long past that. John kissed Bruce as though he was trying to savour every last bit of the kiss, in case it never happened again. As though they were fighting for each other’s souls. Because in a way, they were. Bruce’s tongue gently tickled John’s lips, who let out a small laugh in response. As John’s lips parted, Bruce slipped his tongue into his mouth, unable to get enough of him. John moaned into the kiss, his hands moving to grip Bruce’s hair, tugging slightly harder than necessary. Now it was Bruce’s turn to moan, before hitching John’s hips up closer to his, then laying him down on the bed. It was small, and could hardly the two of them on it, but neither cared. John broke the kiss briefly for air, and Bruce began kissing softly down his neck, nibbling at John’s earlobe carefully. He could feel his pants tightening from the excitement, and was only just resisting the urge to grind his crotch into John’s.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” John breathed airlessly, moving his lips up so that he could return the favour by planting kisses on Bruce’s neck. In one, swift move, John clamped his teeth down just a little too hard on Bruce’s neck, simultaneously managing to flip them both over so he was now on top. Bruce had to admit, he was a little impressed. John’s moved down Bruce’s neck, almost mimicking what he’d done to him, only as he reached that sweet spot between Bruce’s neck and shoulder, he clamped his teeth down hard and began sucking, his tongue moving in circles over the spot as he did. “Leaving your mark?” Bruce smirked.

John let up only for a moment to reply, “Figured I should leave one everyone can see.”

Bruce was more than ready to continue, but was caught off-guard when John sat back up. He was positioned with his legs on either side of Bruce, sitting right on his crotch. Bruce could feel his cheeks flushing as a look of recognition spread across John’s face. “That a batarang in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” He giggled lightly, enjoying as Bruce scrunched up his face in embarrassment.

“Umm, but Brucie...is it...is it okay if that is enough for today?”

Bruce pushed himself up on his elbows, seeing John sitting there shyly twisting his finger with his other hand.

“Oh-Of course, John.” John smiled weakly at him, and moved to the edge of the bed, allowing Bruce to sit up beside him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that...well...” John looked away from him, “I’ve never really...you know...and I uh….kinda want that to be special. Maybe one day when I’m out of here…?” He turned expectantly to Bruce, who placed an arm over John’s shoulders.

“For the record, you didn’t have to explain your reasons to me...but of course. I think that’s a good idea. We shouldn’t rush things.” Bruce squeezed John’s arm comfortingly with a warm smile, which he returned.

“Yeah...we have our whole lives now.” John sighed to himself contentedly.

“Huh, I hadn’t even thought about that...yeah, we do.” Bruce smiled, feeling his heart leap back into his throat as John nuzzled into his side.

“Jay.” John said, his eyes closed, and a serene expression on his face.

“What?” Bruce asked, glancing down at John.

“You wanted to know my real name...it’s Jay.”

Bruce smiled to himself, lightly brushing some green flyaway hairs out of John’s-no, Jay’s face. He planted a small kiss on his forehead. “Jay and Bruce...I like the sound of that.”

#juce #batjokes #soulmate au #batjokes soulmate au #juce soulmate au #whistlewhileiblogit #sorry it is so long #forgive me #telltale batjokes #telltale batman #telltale john doe #the enemy within #bruce wayne #I know S3 will come and destroy my idea but I want this to be what happens lmao

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clairekatswritingcorner · 7 years

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Kaito Kid’s Miraculous Night

Part One

Part Two

Word Count: 2,696

Summary: Kaito Kuroba has been searching for the Pandora gem ever since he discovered it’s possible existence and implication in his father’s death. Upon learning some rumors from his friend Akako about gems that grant people mystical and transformative powers, known as Miraculous Stones, he decides that it’s his duty to go to Paris and investigate. Tagging along with Hakuba, who happened to be going anyway due to a case, Kaito hopes that what little information he’s been able to glean is enough of a lead to help him hunt down the most interesting gems he’s had the opportunity to target yet.

Author’s Note: This piece is an intro of sorts for an AU started by @edorazzi and I connecting the Magic Kaito and Miraculous Ladybug (PV) universes. There are some examples of ideas Josie’s drawn on her blog (which I encourage you to check out), and this was my own interpretation of a possible first encounter between Kaito Kid and the Miraculous Holders. This seems like a beginning to something, and that’s because in terms of the AU it is, but I have no idea if I’ll ever have the energy or the inspiration to plan out a full fic. (ーー;) Either way, I put a lot of work into this piece and I really hope people enjoy it.

(both parts also available on my Ao3 account, found on my blog links)

Moonlight illuminated the inky Parisian sky. Stars twinkled alongside its gentle glow, complementing the radiant city lights. A lone figure clothed in striking white perched on the edge of a building, surveying the tranquil scene. He tipped his hat backwards and exhaled softly, smiling at the moon. In a way he had come to revere its alleviating light and quiet watchfulness considering it had been his silent companion in so many ways. His location wasn’t anything special, and although there were some who would argue he wasn’t either, there was evidence to contradict that. He contemplated his next move, turning from the moon to the city. A passing breeze billowed his cape as he adjusted his monocle and leaned forward, squinting at some of the signs and buildings close enough for him to examine.

“This is pointless,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a seat on the building’s edge. “Akako said they liked to show up on rooftops, so here I am! I’m starting to think they really are urban legends.”

He kicked his feet, eyes straying back to the sky. “I have more important things to do, like investigating jewels!”

Only the buzz of the city replied to his disgruntled monologue, and Kaito flopped onto his back, resting his hat and hands on his stomach. He was tired, confused, agitated, and a little hungry. This was the fifth consecutive night he had stayed up to traverse the city in the hope of finding any trace of the alleged Miraculous Holders. According to Akako, they were people of dubious name and even more dubious existence who were able to utilize the power of magical gems to defend Paris from abnormal threats.

The idea of magical gems that granted people powers sealed Kaito’s decision to nag Hakuba into taking him along on his trip to Paris. Akako and Aoko had already been invited, unbeknownst to Kaito, and after the initial bitterness at being passively left off the trip’s guest list, he transitioned full force into preparing for what might be found abroad. With Akako and Hakuba at his disposal, he hoped to go into the situation with about as much information as usual. Aoko was equally likely, even if she wasn’t in on the secret, to be a capable information gatherer and keen civilian surveyor, someone who would notice the one thing everyone else overlooked.

Kaito had been fired up, ready to tackle an international clue that had the potential to wrap up at least a part of his most outstanding problems. He never planned to stop with just shattering the gem, intent on getting to the bottom of what actually happened to his father. Knocking the Pandora gem out of the equation might stir up enough trouble to get the bigwigs behind that morbid task out of the woodwork and remove Kaito’s most significant distraction when dealing with them.

He did feel a small pang in his heart at the idea that by the end of this trip, his career as Kaito Kid might be over. He had come so far and accomplished so much as Kid. He’d had so many adventures, met so many people, made so many memories. Taking up his father’s mantle had also helped him remain close to him in a way that Kaito wasn’t sure he could replace with anything else. There was a part of him that would sorely miss all of the things that being Kaito Kid allowed him to do, as well as how it made him feel. But all of that could be dealt with after he completed his main objective, and right now his leads had practically gone cold.

“Why can’t Akako just gaze into her crystal ball and find out their location or something?” he lamented, twirling his hat with his hands. “I bet she’s holding out on me, there’s something she’s not telling me. Would it be worth it to interrogate her? She’d probably get defensive…”

He sat up, resituating his hat. “Welp, I’ve still got a few more hours. Might as well retrace my steps.”

It was his only idea, and he suspected it would prove fruitless. His biggest problem wasn’t not knowing where they were, it was not knowing where it would be best to wait for them. If these people really had otherworldly powers like Akako said, for all Kaito knew they were actively avoiding him, laughing as he ran around in circles. He wasn’t the type to quit when faced with a difficult challenge, and he also wasn’t the type to go into a situation blind. He hated playing the waiting game, relying on chance, hoping that things would just come to a head in exactly the way he needed them to. It wasn’t his work ethic and, frankly, it wasn’t his style.

As though the universe had finally started listening to his mental and verbal distaste, an unusual light and crashing sounds started making a commotion a few alleys over. Kaito lept to his feet, gliding across the next few buildings before peering down to examine the unexpected scene. A fight had broken out, and it wasn’t the typical back alley brawl one might expect. Two people clad in outfits almost as peculiar as Kaito’s were bouncing around the alley like frogs, hopping and cartwheeling and ricocheting off walls in an attempt to dodge the attacks from their opponent. They, too, were strangely dressed and wearing what looked to be face paint, swinging their hands around and throwing invisible objects that appeared to actually have an affect on the physical plane.

Kaito tripped backwards, barely managing to escape the invisible object that whizzed past him into the sky. He had registered the air movement as it passed, and it’s startling explosion above him proved that there was definitely something going on beyond his comprehension. Before he could celebrate stumbling upon this unexpected jackpot, the figures from the alley made their way to the rooftops, two of them landing on the one he was standing on while the other landed opposite.

“You’re not going to get away this time!” a feminine voice barked, followed by the form of someone who looked to be wearing a ladybug themed jumpsuit. She lunged at the burly yet finely dressed person before her, their face painted in a style Kaito didn’t immediately recognize.

This opponent remained silent and knocked the girl back with what appeared to be nothing, although the force with which she was thrown and the impact indicated that she had been struck by something. Kaito rushed to her side, attempting to ensure the blow hadn’t knocked her out, but she recovered quickly and shoved him away with a strength that made him realize just how evenly matched she and her opponent were. She resumed her fighting stance before the expression on her face shifted to one of confusion, properly registering Kaito’s presence.

“What in the…who are you? What are you doing up here?”

Kaito opened his mouth to respond, but the air was knocked out of his lungs as the girl tackled him to the ground. He tried to lift his head, his vision dizzy as he realized she had seemingly saved him from another invisible blow. A black streak slashed through the stars for a moment, and Kaito chalked it up to just another side effect of the sudden impact. Regaining his composure, his expression shifted into a flirtatious smirk at his savior, his sarcastic side getting the best of him before she used his face to shove herself back to her feet.

Kaito could sense she was eager to ask more questions, but the man she was currently engaged in battle with was formidable enough to require all of her attention. Kaito stood and adjusted his gloves, realizing on closer inspection that the man with the strange face paint was actually dressed as a mime. A mime who could materialize real weapons from just his movement, apparently. That was a level of supernatural mayhem Kaito hadn’t expected to come across in his search for the mysterious Miraculous Stones.

His contemplation was interrupted again as the mime launched another attack that Kaito barely dodged, his senses finally adjusting to the situation. He pulled his card gun from its holster, firing a few shots past the mime’s eyes to create just enough of a distraction that the girl was able to kick his feet out from under him. She took a few steps back herself, panting as she shot Kaito a confused look, clearly unsure of whether this gesture was enough to determine whether he was friend or foe. The fact that she didn’t immediately turn on him at least meant that in some capacity she was grateful.

“I’ll ask you again, who are you? And how did you get up here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Mademoiselle,” the words felt interesting, smoothly rolling off his tongue. “It appears you have just as much explaining to do as I.”

The mime was seemingly incapacitated for the moment, and Kaito wondered if she had struck him with something similarly unseen to paralyze him. He took a hesitant step forward, reminding himself to not make the mistake of portraying just how anxious or confused he really was. The girl remained still, her fists still clenched and her knees still bent should she need to strike at a moment’s notice. She did seem to give off both the look and the vibe of a flamboyant vigilante or wannabe superhero, but until he knew what her connection or knowledge of the Miraculous Stones was, or really anything more about the situation, he couldn’t be too hasty.

“I asked first, and you’re not in any position to be bargaining with me,” she replied stiffly, and before Kaito could blink something knocked the card gun from his hand. He glanced at his stinging palm before returning his gaze to the girl, her stance still guarded as she absently twirled the yoyo she had used to disarm him. “I’m not too keen on getting civilians involved in my work, and I’m even less keen on letting them get away after seeing too much.”

“What are you gonna do, hypnotize me?” he replied, eyeing the toy that he was beginning to understand was a much more formidable tool than it appeared. “I promise, Mademoiselle, I mean no harm. And I’m nothing like your typical civilian.”

“So what business do you have wandering around the rooftops dressed like a snowcone?” she persisted, tucking the yoyo in her hip pouch. “Just because you’re not typical doesn’t mean you have any right to be involved.”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation,” he explained, deciding that giving her part of the truth might help ease the tension. “You might even be able to help me out. I’m a purveyor of fine jewels and unusual artifacts. I’ve been told that there are objects in this city fitting both descriptions that have piqued my interest.”

Her fists tightened at his words, and he stopped his advance towards her. “Please, you don’t have to get defensive. I’m not in league with whoever that man attacking you was. To be honest I have no idea what kind of situation I just stumbled on or who you or anyone else is. But if you know anything about those gems…the Miraculous Stones…I would be very grateful to hear whatever you know.”

The girl shifted her weight, tapping a finger against her arm and hardening her gaze. After everything he had just seen and experienced, Kaito was sure that she was one of the people he needed to find. He had to exercise every ounce of control and finesse that he had to ensure that she didn’t dart away and return him to his cold, blank trail.

“You want to know about the Miraculous Stones…why?”

She did have some sort of information about them then…this was going to be a difficult conversation to navigate.

“Because I’m not the only one looking for them, and I want to secure them before people with bigger and badder plans than me can.” Maybe playing the ‘I’m one of the good guys, just like you’ cards would be enough to sway her judgement. “I’ve been scouting the city for a few days now, trying to find some trace of them. There isn’t a lot of time, and after what you’ve just been through, I’d say you understand where I’m coming from almost better than me.”

The girl swept her eyes up and down him, taking a step closer, though not enough that he could reach her with an arm or leg. She brushed some of her dark hair behind her ear, revealing an earring, no, a dazzling red and black stone that shined with and otherworldly scarlet glow. Kaito felt his chest tighten as he swallowed, trying to conceal the trembling in his hands. His gaze locked onto the object that had spurred him to come to Paris, the object that could possibly be the key to unlocking not only the truth of his father’s death, but also the secret to immortality, a burden that he would cradle in and summarily shatter with his own hands.

“The Miraculous Stones are safe with their holders, and none of us are interested in passing them off to some obvious Lupin wannabe,” the girl scoffed, her gentle and soothing tone contradicting the searing edge of her remarks. “If you came to Paris to steal some gems and spark some sort of publicity grabbing controversy, your journey ends here.”

Kaito was only really paying attention to half of her words, his feet subconsciously carrying him forward as he became enchantingly overcome with hope. He had seen and held so many precious and unique jewels in his hands, peering into their empty and disappointing cores with the help of the moon that still shone like a spotlight over them now. Never had he felt so close to his goal, however, considering the magic he had just witnessed with his own two eyes. He had observed gems with magical and hidden properties before, but never ones that radiated such a stunning red glow, and never ones that had actually granted their owner supernatural powers.

He knelt before her and gracefully clasped one of her hands, pressing his lips to the back in a reflexive gesture. “Mademoiselle, although they cannot compare to the radiance of your visage, I would be honored if you would allow me to borrow the dazzling gems decorating your ears.”

The girl giggled, slipping her hand out of his grasp and re-crossing her arms, albeit this time in a much more amused manner. “You really think that’s all it takes to get your hands on these? Are you sure you aren’t new to this?”

Aside from being stunningly insulted, Kaito was at a loss for how to respond. He couldn’t remember the last time his charms hadn’t worked on someone, and in the panic of being this close to the stones that had a high likelihood of being the Pandora he had spent so many months and heists pining for, he was having trouble processing what his next move should be. He cleared his throat, giving an amused chuckle in return as he rose to his feet.

“I was under the impression we had some sort of understanding, since you were kind enough to admit that you do have the stones in your possession.” He stretched out his arm, caressing her cheek with his fingers as his eyes remained pinned on the gems glowing on her ears. “What would it take for you to allow me to examine them more closely?”

The girl’s blue eyes were unreadable and deep. He could tell from her expression that she was slightly unsettled, but still firm in her decision to keep her distance from him. That was alright, just a little more persuasion, or just the right shock, and he could swipe the gems from her ears no problem. He had especially quick hands after all. He closed his eyes, his palm nestling her cheek as he inched his face towards hers.

#magic kaito #miraculous ladybug #kaito kuroba #bridgette cheng #felix agreste #chat noir #ladybug #kaito kid #my writing #claire writes #edorazzi #miraculous ladybug pv #miraculous ladybug 2d #2d pv verse

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crankychild · 7 years

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The Down Side of Coming Out

summary: Mark makes a very sweet coming out video because he loves both Amy and Ethan with all his heart, but Ethan wasn’t out to his parents yet and some fans started to make comments about Amy ‘getting in the way’ of there otp Type: angst, fluff ships: Amy + Ethan + Mark “so guys, what I’m trying to say, is that I love them. Both of them. And yes, I know that’s not how relationships are supposed to work but I can’t help it. I can’t help my sexuality and I can help who I fall in love with. Ethan, Amy if you’re watching this, I love you both with all my heart.” Mark wiped his tears off his face before ending the video and uploading it with out editing it. He has wanted to to that for so long. He felt so free now. Like he was aloud to love and like his love was valid. Mark decided he wanted to spend the rest of the day with the two most amazing and beautiful people he knows. He walked out of his recording room and went to where Ethan and Amy where editing. “Hey stars,” Mark smiled as he used one of names he called Amy and Ethan when they where together “I made the video.” Both Amy and Ethan looked up at him. Amy was beaming, she was so happy she could start being public about there relationship. She has a file on her phone of pictures that she had been waiting to be able to post. Ethan on the other hand didn’t look as happy. Of course he gave Mark permission to make the video and post it, but he hadn’t told his parents and was honestly, a little scared. His parents had told him that he wasn’t aloud to be gay, so he didn’t think they would be very happy about him dating more than one person and one of them being a guy. Ethan smiled anyway, pushing the feeling down and deciding to focus on the fact it was over and he had people who would love him even if his parents didn’t. —-TIME SKIP—- Mark had never felt happier. He was dating the most beautiful woman in the world and he was dating the most handsome man in the world. He was out and had seen a lot of support and had said beautiful and handsome people curled up to him on either side. Mark felt butterflies in his stomach from how happy he was. All three of them where slowly starting to drift off to sleep when Ethan’s phone went off. *deep beep imma sheep, I said beep imma sheep* Ethan’s annoying ring tone filled the quiet room waking everyone up. Half asleep, Ethan grabbed his phone and picked up the call. “hello?” Ethan suddenly bolted away from Mark and quickly stood. by the look on his face he was horrified. “H.. Hey Dad” Amy and Mark looked at each other with concern. Ethan had told them his parents might not be happy but he didn’t really make I big deal out of it. “please Dad… Ok but if you just listen to me… ok… yes sir… I understand… I’m sorry…” After Ethan hung up his phone he looked down. There was sadness in his eyes, but only for a second as they where soon replaced by anger. Ethan through his phone across the room smashing it agenst a wall befor falling to his knees and sobbing. With in seconds Amy and Mark where both by his side. Mark holding him and rubbing his back and Amy telling him to breath and helping him to calm down. "Blue bird,” Mark spoke as softly as he could “what was that about?” Ethan looked up at Mark before looking down and saying “My dad says I’m not his son anymore and they have no place for… for a freak in there family.” Mark’s heart shattered. How could someone do that? How could someone be so cold and so heartless to someone as amazing as Ethan? “I’m so sorry blueberry,” Amy spoke quietly “I promise you’re going to be okay. I know this is hard, I couldn’t begin to understand what it’s like, but where here for you okay?” Ethan nodded before leaning into his lovers arms, feeling protected by them. —–TIME SKIP— Ethan was fast asleep, sandwiched between Amy and Mark, who where both on there phones. Amy had posted a picture of Ethan, Mark, and her all at the beach. Ethan was in cute light blue swim trunk and Mark was in bright red ones. Amy was in a beautiful yellow bikini that had little bits of green on it. They all looked happy. Amy decided to look at the comments. She saw alot saying how cute they all where. She also saw alot saying it was wrong, which she ignored easily. Then she saw a bunch saying they felt bad for Amy, saying the was getting in the way and didn’t relise it. She looked over the comments like this but there where alot. There where also alot of replies saying it’s her life and that they where happy together. There where also replies agreeing with the comments. Amy felt something inside start to hurt. Did they really not want her around? Was she getting in the way? Would they be happier with out her? “Amy,” Mark’s voice pulled her from he thoughts “you okay babe?” “Mark… Do, do you and Ethan like having me around or would you be happier with out me?” Amy asked sadly “What? Of course we like having you around we love you! why?” Amy felt tears falling and she quickly felt a need for her boyfriends to hug her “The comments on that picture I posted from the beach… there was a lot of people saying you’d both be happier with out me. Mark reached over and wiped her tears away “it’s not true Amy. I love you and Ethan loves you, we’d both be way less happy if we didn’t have you. I promise.” "Thank you” Amy smiled. Mark waited for Amy to fall asleep before getting up, careful not to wake his loves. He quietly walked down the stares to his recording room and started a recording. “Hey. So earlier today, I came out and um, since then, I… I’ve been shocked at everything that had happend. So… A few things have happend and I’m going to go over them and I need you guys to listed. I’d this is you, if you are doing any of this, It needs to stop. So, first of all, to Ethan’s family, Fuck. You. What gives you the right to treat Ethan like he’s nothing purely because of his sexual orientation. What gives you the right to tell a 20 year old, who isn’t even old enough to drink, who you promised to love and take care of no matter what, what gives you the right to take away everything he is? Why do you get to decide his punishment for being himself and why would you do something as drastic as to tell him he’s not family anymore? it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that you all know that Ethan is better than any of you will ever know. Weather he sees it or not he is perfect. Maybe perfect isn’t good enough for you, but that’s fine. If you don’t want him don’t think this will slow him down or hurt him because just because you left him doesn’t mean he’s alone.” Mark took a deep breath and wiped his tears. “Now, the second thing that happend involves Amy. I love her just as much as I love Ethan, and for the most part this community has be great, but to those of you who feel the need to attack Amy and to tell her she isn’t loved or to tell her she’s holding Ethan and I back, is bull shit. Amy is one of the best people I know and I would, and so would Ethan, we would be do much worse with out her. I need you guys to stop. If you are spreading this bull shit stop. If you are posting the bull shit stop. If you see this bull shit, report it. please help me make this stop. I love Amy. I love Ethan. If you have a problem than instead of crying about it and trying to hurt us, grow a pair and leave this community. there’s no place for you here.” Mark finished up the video than posted it again, without editing. He as quietly as he could walked back to bed where he was greeted by his two lovers wide awake with tears in there eyes. “What’s wrong?” Mark panicked “you, you left the door open,” Ethan smiled wiping his tears “we heard what you said. we love you too” Mark smiled before jumping on top of his stars. He loves calling them that, because as cheesy as it was, they are the light of his light. ———-END——— welp, that’s the first fic on this account. I hope you guys liked it! If anyone has any ideas for future story or has any head canons they’d like to share feel free to send an ask or message me ♡ ~Lu

#crankiplier #ethamy #amyplier #if this somehow ends up in one of the main tags please let me know #fan fiction #crankiplier fanfiction #fan fic #fluff #angst

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pengychan · 7 years

Text

The Mind Cage, Ch. 13

Title: The Mind Cage Summary: In another world, Stanford Pines places a metal plate in his skull far too soon. In another world, Bill Cipher is in the wrong place at the wrong time. Characters: Bill Cipher, Ford Pines, Stan Pines, Fiddleford McGucket Rating: T Click here for the first chapter, warnings and links to all chapters up so far.

A/N: welp, this is almost over. There is another chapter left - and epilogue of sorts - and I’ll do my best to finish it soon, so that I can update next Friday and wrap this up.

***

Bill’s mind burned, and so did Stanford.

He was aware, dimly, of what was happening around him. Of the boat sailing through the air, flames at their heels, hot wind filling its sails and blowing through his hair. He was aware of arms around him, a shoulder against his cheek, Stanley’s voice, telling him to hold on, we’re almost out, stay with me, don’t you dare, stay with me.

I’ll be the one to take you down with me!

“Stanford, please…!”

He tried to reply - tried to speak to Stanley, tried to scream against Bill, but could do neither. His jaw wouldn’t move, his eyes wouldn’t open. He could only tremble in the grasp of that unnatural fever, the heat unbearable, eating at him from the inside out. It burned. He burned.

And, beneath his closed eyelids, he saw things he was not supposed to see - disjointed images there one moment and gone the next, like a tape on fast-forward.

Things belonging to other dimensions. Other timelines. Other realities. Bill’s memories, and his own - flashing before his eyes and then gone, photographs thrown in the fire and forgotten, burned away from his memory.

A world burning with blue fire A closed door leading to an empty room The pull of the portal dragging him in The look on Stan’s face one moment before he fell through A being with seven eyes towering over him Fighting for his life in a nonsensical world and that pull, taking him back Stan’s face, much older, smiling at him Children, there were children, who were they, why would children be there-- Just like me just like I was at his age A rift no no there shouldn’t be a rift there couldn’t be one If he gains physical form all is lost ALL IS LOST, oh God, a wound bleeding in the sky No don’t do this where are they are they safe Madness this is madness I brought about the end of the world my fault all my fault No the kids where are the kids LEAVE THEM, LEAVE THEM ALO-- I’ll give you anything! Fame! Money! Riches! Your own galaxy! Please! STANLEY!

“STANFORD!”

Bill’s scream pierced through his mind, like a spear of ice, and for a moment the heat almost died down. For a moment he felt almost cold, and he clung to that one moment of clarity. When Bill screamed again, Stanford could make out words. No - only one word.

“AAAAAGH! A-AH… AXOLOTL!”

Praise the Axolotl, someone had told him in another reality. Or had they? He didn’t remem--

That thought was cut short by another scream - louder, longer, wordless. And he knew, with utmost certainty, that it was to be the last.

There was light, blinding, even through his closed eyelids. The flames enveloping Bill Cipher’s mindscape flared brightly one more time, and then… then…

A crack like thunder echoed all around them, painfully loud, and the shockwave came moments afterwards, hitting them with unspeakable force. The boat was thrown across the thin line between mindscapes, crashing on the non-existent ground, only one instant before Bill Cipher’s mind imploded in a bright flash of light. Then, nothingness. For a time.

When Stanford Pines opened his eyes again, he found himself looking at the stars.

***

“Hot. Belgian. Waffles.”

“Owww, that hurt.”

“I can’t find my glasses…”

“Wait, I think I’ve seen ‘em…”

With a groan, Stan pushed a piece of what had been the boat’s mast off himself and sat up. He was really, really happy that he wasn’t physically there, or else he’d have felt that for weeks to come. He rubbed his head, glanced around to find Stanford… and stilled, mouth hanging open.

They were in space.

“What the…?” he muttered, standing up on… on nothing, it seemed. It was like walking on a thin sheet of glass: stars and galaxies were below him, above him, all around him. Pieces of wood were scattered around, some still and some floating in the air. Behind him, young Stanford was putting his glasses back on while young Stanley pushed a few planks of wood off him; Stan was about to call out when a scroll floated past him, and he reached for it out of instinct - only to still when a voice rang out. A wonderfully familiar voice, calm and yet full of something not too far away from wonder.

“My Mindscape is back to normal.”

Stanford was standing only a few feet from him, a hand to his head where the surgery scar had to be, head tilted back and gaze fixed on the stars. Then he turned and stared at Stan in quiet wonder; he looked well again, healthy, and not at all like the wreck Stan had held only minutes - moments? - earlier, feverish and hot as embers. Under Stan’s stunned gaze, his face opened in a smile.

“He’s gone. He’s really gone, and I’m still here. You… we have won.”

Damn right we have won, Stan wanted to say. Don’t you dare give me another scare like that ever again, he wanted to add. He wanted to grab him and shake him so hard his stupid teeth would chatter. He wanted to punch him and hold him, and laugh and cry and scream all at once - and maybe he would have done just that if given only one more instant.

But then another voice rose, high and panicked, and the moment was gone.

“Bill? Where are you? Billy? BILL!”

The triangle kid - the other one, the one with tilted and uneven sides Billy had called Liam - was standing among the wreckage of the boat, looking incredibly tiny in all that vastness. His eye was wide, but he didn’t spare a glance to the wonders around them: he just looked at them and, despite the incredibly limited features he had to convey any expression at all, there was no mistaking what kind of look that was. The kid was terrified.

“Have you… have you seen my brother?” he asked, his voice thin as paper.

“I, uh…” Stan began, but fell quiet, at a loss for words. Stanford seemed just as surprised, and then suddenly thoughtful at seeing the kid again; he seemed about to speak, but someone else did first. Young Stanley.

“He’s here! He’s got to be here!” he exclaimed, and ran back to the wreckage. He lifted a plank, then another, throwing them aside and calling out. “Billy! Hey, c’mon! Get outta there! Where are you?”

There was no answer, but the boy didn’t let it stop him - stubborn, he’d always been stubborn as a damn mule - and young Stanford was by his side the next moment, helping him move the wrecked wood.

Maybe he’s gone as well, Stan thought, and he could see that same thought mirrored in Ford’s expression, but then his gaze moved on to Liam, who stood miserably and full of confusion.

Have you seen my brother?

To hell with it, he wasn’t gone. If that Liam was still there - a tiny part of Cipher, a memory that belonged to him - then Billy should be, too. Stan took a few steps forward to help, more out of instinct than anything else, and that was when he heard it. They all heard it.

“Oow, my eye…!”

“Billy!”

Liam darted towards the source of the voice right away, almost stumbling forward, just as little Stanford pulled away a broken piece of what used to be the hull. Billy sat up, groaning and rubbing his eye. “Uuugh. Did someone see the license plate of the truck that--”

“BILL!”

“Whoa! Hey! Easy!”

But of course his brother didn’t go easy at all: he clung to him, blabbered, cried, asked a million questions and then if he was really all right, all in the same breath. He hardly seemed to notice when Ford walked up to them, knelt and, calmly, took them both in his hands. Only then Liam turned up to look at him, registered anyone else’s presence.

“It seems some explanations are in order,” Stanford said quietly, then, “I am sorry, Billy. For not telling you everything.”

Still caught in his older brother’s grasp, and clearly not really eager to be freed from it to begin with, Bill frowned for just a moment. “He lied to you, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Ford admitted. “Trusting him was a mistake. Holding you accountable was another.”

Billy seemed to think about it just for a moment before shrugging. “Take us back to the beach,” he said. “I want to show him the sand and the sea and everything. Then we’ll be even. Deal?”

Stanford’s lips quirked in a smile. “It’s a deal,” he said, and looked at Liam. “Don’t worry, young man. You and your brother are safe as you can be.”

***

“... And that’s the ocean! That’s where the whales live! And that’s the sun and we shouldn’t stare at it, but I do it anyway! This color is called ‘blue’, that one’s yellow and it’s my favorite! And there is a thing called ice cream you’ve got to try! Stanley, get us ice cream!”

To his credit, young Stanley did seem to remember what Ford had told him about never giving Bill anything with even the slightest amount of caffeine, because he paused and turned to glance at him as though to ask for permission. Ford nodded, mouthing ‘strawberry’ - better than chocolate, all in all - and smiled faintly when Stanley made a bucket’s worth of ice cream appear out of thin air. Within moments all four kids were sitting in the sand, eating spoonfuls of it, Billy’s voice still going on and on through mouthfuls to explain Liam everything he could see. Ford’s smile widened for a moment, and then he turned his gaze back down on the notebook.

“You’re such a nerd, you know? What’s the point taking notes in your mind?” Stanley asked. He was sitting next to him on the old swing set, basking in the sun that warmed the beach, making its sand shimmer. It hadn’t been much of a beach in the real world - hence its name - but there, in the mindscape, through the filter of fond childhood memories, it seemed the best possible place on Earth.

“I have been on the receiving end of that accusation a fair amount of times,” he conceded, and finished the last sentence before putting the pen back in his pocket, gaze lingering on his notes. While it was true that upon awakening he would find himself without any actual notes, the act of writing itself helped him memorize a great deal. If he wrote something in his mind, he’d be certain he’d remember it all down to the last word when he woke up.

Not that there had been that much for him to write.

***

Billy’s knowledge is limited, only spacing from his very first memories up to the moment the memory of him, as he is, was created; Bill showed him his world going up in flames, but gave him no hindsight as to why or how he did it.

This means he could shed no light on Bill’s rise to power; how he acquired his powers in the first place, and the destruction that followed, will remain a tale untold. Perhaps it is for the best. I shudder at the thought of what must have transpired and, for what is perhaps the first time in my life, I do not wish to know.

What he could give me was a clearer picture of what Bill’s dimension of origin was like. He described a world devoid of color, inhabited by Lines - female - and Shapes - male. A strict class system was in place, one’s lot in life depending on the number of their sides. Women were not considered creatures of much intellect, if any at all, regardless their class. Among males, the Isosceles Triangles were at the very bottom of the social scale; Equilaterals followed, as the merchant class, then Squares, going higher in importance as their sides rose in number. According to Bill, who’s the perfect definition of an Equilateral, he was born from Isosceles parents - a rare occurrence, it seems - and then adopted by Regular parents, Liam’s own. How much of it is true and how much is simple boasting is something I have yet to establish.

Triangles begeting Squares wasn’t unusual, but not very common either: it usually took at least three generations of Equilaterals and very careful breeding to produce one. Every shape from the Square upwards would gain a side with each generation; when a Polygon had such a high number of sides to be considered circular, then he was a Circle - the highest class, and rulers of the Second Dimension.

But perhaps what I wrote is untrue. It was not the Isosceles who were at the very bottom, nor the Lines: it was the Irregulars, of which Liam is an example. Bill’s description of Irregulars in their society gave me the impression they were not quite a class: too low to be considered one. They were mishaps: their world praised Regularity, and their mismatched sides made them pariah. My own experiences as a boy due to my extra finger quite simply pale in comparison of their treatment.

Irregular children were allowed to grow to the age of fifteen, giving them a chance for their Irregularity to fix itself at least to a degree. If it did, then they would pass an inspection and deemed fit to live, if always at the very outskirts of society. If they did not, they would be taken away to be terminated.

And that is the fate that befell Liam. It is one of the very last things Billy remembers, along with finding books speaking of the Third Dimension - our own dimension - hidden away in Liam’s room after he was taken away. I can only begin to guess the reasons Bill may have had to lock away all memories of Liam. I wonder what Stanley would have done if I were in Liam’s place. I wonder what I would have

As much as I wished to ask Liam about those books, where he found them and what his knowledge of our dimension was, I refrained. He seems an intelligent boy, but he is overwhelmed as things are, unaware of being a memory himself - the real Liam long gone - until only hours ago; perhaps my younger self will be able to get more information out of him in time, in a less traumatic fashion. For time being, I’ll leave him to enjoy what this version of our dimension has to offer.

One of the things that surprised me is how both of these memories are still here while, I am certain, the mind where they were created is gone - every connection with mine severed. I will need to think about it, but at the moment I can hazard a guess: after I met them, they became my memories as well. This allows them to exist, as their own individuals, within my Mindscape - just like the memories of myself and Stanely do.

This opens up quite a few exciting possibilities about the nature of memories, and I shall look into it. Not just yet, though.

First, a vacation.

***

“I never said I was sorry.”

Stan’s sudden statement caused Ford to look up from his notes, blinking. Stanley making the seat swing slowly, feet still touching the ground, and kept his eyes fixed on the Stan O’ War - the version of it that was still at the very start of its repairs. “Sorry for what?”

“Your perpetual motion machine. You know I didn’t mean to break it, right?”

He did. Ford could tell now that, deep down, he’d always known. “The fault was mine. I came to the worst possible conclusion without even listening to you, and--”

“Our old man didn’t really give me a chance to speak, anyway,” Stan cut him off with a shrug, and looked down. He shuffled his feet on the sand. “But I had the time to say something, and it was all the wrong stuff. I should have said I was sorry. It was your dream, I took it from you, and then I acted like all was well. Like it didn’t matter at all.”

Ford sighed. “It certainly doesn’t matter at all now, Stanley.”

“I held you back--”

“All you held me back from was throwing myself from the water tower last week.”

The remark caused Stan to turn to look at him, eyes wide. He stared for a few moments, then he let out a long breath. The swing stilled. “Holy Moses. It was that close, wasn’t it?”

There was a knot somewhere in his throat, and keeping his voice firm took Ford a valiant effort. “Yes. But you came for me and then just refused to leave. You took on a demon for me while I didn’t even try to stop dad from throwing you out.”

Stan gave a barking laugh. “Hah! Really now, you make it sound like out old man ain’t the biggest threat out of the two! But I’m totally gonna drop by now, whether he wants it or not.”

His lips curling in a smile against his own will, Ford allowed himself a chuckle before readying himself to tell Stan about their father. There had been no time to speak of it, but now he should at least tell him. “... About our father, there is something you should know,” he said. He stared at the sea, but he could feel his brother’s gaze on him. “He… Well. First of all, the night he threw you out… what he said about you making millions--”

“He never thought I’d be back with any money,” Stan cut him off, his voice sounding far too casual to be genuine. “Let alone with millions. He thought I was gonna come back with my tail between my legs in a few weeks tops.”

“You knew…?”

“I guessed.”

“He would have taken you back in--”

“And never let me hear the end of it,” Stanley cut him off, and shrugged. “So, I had to at least try. And I tried, really, but… yeah. Didn’t work out too well - all I got was a crime record a mile long, while you were busy making deals with three-sided Beelzebub or something.”

“We’re a disaster,” Ford sighed, and Stan laughed.

“Yep, true. But hey, on the bright side, we just destroyed a demon and averted a much bigger disaster. Not bad for a nerd and a dork, all things considered. After this, I think the world can make an effort and deal with us two. Not that bad of a ego boost, really. I had hit rock bottom not too long ago. The place I was in when I got your postcard--” he trailed off, and blinked. “Wait a minute. Ford, how did you know where I was?”

“Your crime record,” Ford said. “Law enforcement across the country is relying more and more on the Internet to exchange information. Fiddleford built something that… allows me to access to some of it, if I want to.”

Stanley blinked. “What, seriously? You can get that kind of info and didn’t use it to get rich off it?” he asked, sounding nothing short of incredulous. This time, it was Ford to laugh: the thought of selling information for cash was as plain on Stan’s face as the glasses on his own.

“Well. I’d say I put it to a better use than that.”

“And what would that be?”

“Finding you.”

There was a moment of silence, then Stan turned away abruptly. “Not fair. That was a low blow,” he mumbled, reaching up to quickly wipe his eyes with a sleeve. “Geez, if dad could see me now…”

Something about that off-hand comment truly hurt, because it reminded Ford that he hadn’t yet gotten to tell him about their father, and it was about time he did. “He… Stanley, our father is not quite the same as--” he began, but it soon became clear that would have to wait: before his eyes, Stan’s form began flickering.

“What the heck…?”

“It seems that your body is about to awaken. You have been in here for a long time.”

“Why aren’t you waking up?”

“I was given a powerful sedative. I will awaken in due time, do not worry,” Ford said, promising himself he and Stanley would talk more about their family - about their father’s condition and what that had meant to all of them - in due time. Perhaps it was for the best he didn’t get to mention it now: the least he could do was letting him enjoy that victory in peace. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Stanley nodded with a grin. “Aye aye, captain,” he muttered, and stood. As his form flickered again, he brought his hands to his mouth and called out. “HEY! KIDS! Don’t give Ford too much of a headache, promise?”

Of course neither of their younger selves was willing to let him leave without one more high five or six, although young Stanley had to try twice due to the fact his hand became incorporeal for a few moments - and of course it was a noisy goodbye. Nestled in his hair, Billy - once again a bright yellow, not thanks to paint but because of his newfound knowledge he could will himself to be any color he wanted - reached up to shake his finger.

“You’re gonna drop by again, right?” he asked, and Stan grinned down at him.

“You bet - all I need to do is saying some Latin crap anyhow,” he said, and glanced at Liam. Now a greenish cyan rather than gray, he sat on young Stanford’s shoulder; he seemed still unsure of what he should make of his current situation, but far less scared than he’d been at first. “Hey, kiddo. Don’t think we really had the time to talk, with Sixer givin’ you the third degree. Next time, huh? Enjoy the place meanwhile. And make him try toffee peanuts, Little Stan! Don’t let your brother just feed them jelly beans! Toffee peanuts are the best thing since--”

They never got to find out what he had been about to compare it to: he flickered one last time and then he was just gone in a flash of faint blue light. Liam blinked at the spot where he had been standing moments before, bewildered, then turned his eye to Billy.

“... What’s a toffee? What’s a peanut?”

Billy shrugged, still sitting on young Stanley’s head. “Beats me. Hey, Stan! What’s a toffee peanut?”

The boy’s face lit up in delight, and he reached to take Liam from his brother’s shoulder, his grin wide enough to split his face, and walked back towards the boat. “It’s the food of the gods, that’s what! Let me show you…!”

A look between Ford and his younger self was enough to tell that they were both wondering how could anybody enjoy eating that garbage, but they had enough sense not to say anything - or almost. “I’ll fight it with jelly beans,” young Stanford whispered before running after them.

Ford chuckled, then sat on the swing set again and watched them from a distance. He would probably awaken any moment, but until then he may as well relax and enjoy watching his childhood right before him, frozen in time.

***

“THE HELL DOES IT MEAN, YOU HAD TO FREEZE HIM?”

“Weren’t you listening? That thing took hold of his body, and I had to contain--”

“Well, now the thing is gone! So GET MY BROTHER OUTTA THERE, or so help me-- whoa!” Stan trailed off with a yelp when McGucket suddenly ducked to grab something and then that something - a freakin’ iron bar - suddenly hit the wall just beside his head. Stan took a few steps aside, startled, and McGucket pointed the bar at him like a sword.

“Look, fella. I’ve had a bad day,” he said, his voice dangerously even, and Stan realized just then how reddened his eyes were. He paused and swallowed. All right, maybe he shouldn’t have just snapped and started screaming, but what the hell. He’d left his brother looking healthy and happy, and awoke to find him frozen in some tube, features twisted in the horrified expression of a caged animal desperate to claw its way out. Of course he knew it hadn’t been Stanford to make that face, but still…!

“Huh. Yeah, I can see that now that you mention--”

“A very bad day. I’m going to get Ford outta there with or without you yelling at me. But if you do yell again, then you said it yourself - so help you.”

Stan threw up his hands. “Right! Okay! Sorry,” he said quickly. “I… just got worried. Sorry. Gonna pay for a drink later, what do you think?” he added, fully knowing he had no money and that therefore he’d have to use Stanford’s to begin with. “I mean, Cipher is gone for good. Gotta go celebrate, right?”

With a long sigh, McGucket lowered the iron bar and then let it fall on the floor with a clatter. His shoulders slumped for a moment, but when he straightened himself it was as though a terrible weight had been lifted from them. He met Stan’s gaze and even gave something remarkably similar to a smile. “... Yes. A drink would be nice. It… it’s over, isn’t it?”

Stan smiled back. “Yes. It’s over,” he said, and kicked the iron bar away. It rolled across the floor with more clattering and ended up in some dark corner. “Now let’s thaw Poindexter and go celebrate.”

***

“Boys, you look terrible. What has happened to you?”

For a few moments, none of them said anything to answer Susan’s question: they just exchanged a silent look. Out of the three of them, only Stan was in a reasonably good shape, if rather scruffy-looking. Stanford was on the mend, but he was still paler and skinnier than he had any right to be, his growing hair barely hiding the surgery scar on his head. McGucket had his wrist in a cast, dark shadows under still reddened eyes. In the end, it was him to speak.

“... Car accident?”

“Car accident,” Ford echoed.

“Totally a car accident,” Stan confirmed, and turned back to Susan with a grin. “You see, Mr. Mysterious Science Guy in the Woods totally forgot that triangular road signs stand for danger, and got us in a ditch. The car caught fire and all but hey, good thing I was there to pull them both out! All by myself,” he added, leaning on the counter and entirely missing the unimpressed look his brother and McGucket exchanged. All he paid attention to was Susan’s obvious swooning, which he hoped would be followed by free food to go with their drinks.

It was.

“Did I just watch you seduce the Greasy’s waitress to get free food?”

“Yep. You’re welcome,” Stan said through a mouthful of meatloaf. They didn’t bother keeping their voices too low: Susan was in the back, and the only person in the Diner aside from them was a red-headed teen - Boyish Dan, Stanford had called him - struggling to get the jukebox at the far end of the room working.

“You do realize I could have paid for it, right?”

“Hey, free food is the best food. Free everything is the best,” Stan pointed out, then grabbed his drink. “So. Ding-Dong! The witch is dead. Burned to a crisp. Wanna toast to that? Hah, get it? ‘Cause he’s toast!”

McGucket gave what was probably the only genuine laugh Stan had heard from him until that moment, and raised the glass as well. “You bet,” he said, then glanced at Stanford. “He’s really gone, isn’t he? Gone for good?”

For the briefest of moments, Stanford’s gaze met Stan’s own. It was barely a glance, but more than enough for him to guess precisely what - or rather who - his brother was thinking off: a tiny shred of Bill who still existed within his mind, the memory of what he’d been at some point a long time ago. But that was what he was: a memory. Bill Cipher himself was gone, burned away from existence. So, in the end, Stanford replied with no hint of hesitation.

“Yes. He is gone,” he said, and raised his glass as well.

At the far end of the room, the red-headed teen finally succeeded in getting the jukebox to work - but, taken as they were with their toast, none of them paid any attention to the music.

We’ll meet again Don’t know where, don’t know when But I know we’ll meet again Some sunny day…

***

“So… It is a goodbye, then.”

Stanford’s voice was quiet and, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep sadness entirely out of it. He remembered how happy he’d been when Fiddleford had joined him there - he hadn’t know how lonely he had truly felt, despite Bill’s presence, until then - and seeing him go left a sour taste in his mouth. He knew it wouldn’t the happiest of homecomings, with divorce papers awaiting him in California, and he couldn’t shake off the thought it had been his fault.

If only I hadn’t involved him, if only I listened to him, if only I trusted him, if only--

“I’d prefer to call it ‘until next time’,” Fiddleford said, interrupting his thoughts. He had his coat draped over his shoulders, a suitcase in his good hand and another at his feet. He was so eager to return home and see his son again that he had no intention to wait until his wrist had healed enough for him to drive to return home - hence why they were all standing at the only bus stop in town, waiting for Fiddleford’s ride to come. “Don’t look at me like that, buddy. I’ll be fine. She said she wants things to stay civil and all we both want is for Tate to be happy, so it’s gonna work out. Somehow. At least I’m going to be there, and that’s something, right?”

All too aware of Stanley’s steady presence behind him, Ford smiled. “Yes. It’s what matters the most,” he said, and held out his hand. He expected Fiddleford to take it, but instead he suddenly ducked down to put one of his suitcases down and open it.

“Before I forget…” he mumbled, reaching into it, and pulled out something - a thesis paper of all things - and put it in Ford’s outstretched hand. He took a look at the front page, and his heart seemed to skip a beat.

The Astonishing Anomalies of Gravity Falls, by Stanford Pines, PhD.

It was the paper Fiddleford had written for him in secret, categorizing his discoveries for him to publish, and all to try getting his mind off the portal, away from his obsession. The paper he had written and offered to him without asking for anything in return, not even credit.

There are enough discoveries here to make you a multimillionaire. Forget about the portal and the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness! Publish this, get your life back, and move on!

But he had done none of those things. As a thank you for so much work, for so much selflessness, all that Ford had done was mistrusting him - believing Bill’s words over his friend’s only because that monster said what he wanted, and not what he needed, to hear. He had thought he had wanted to stop him from changing history, to take the merit for himself, while all he had wanted to do all along was to help him. He hadn’t let him, and still he had kept trying; he had been there for a test he was terrified about, standing by his side, and nearly paid for Ford’s own folly with his sanity.

“Fiddleford--”

“I still think you should publish it, you know,” Fiddleford was saying. “It’s huge, Stanford, and it can make you rich.”

After all that happened, he truly would let me publish this with my name alone on it?

“Hey, what’s that?” Stanley was asking behind him. “What’s this about getting rich?”

“It may need a bit of proofreading and a few tweaks - I was rather tired when I worked on it - but other than that--” Fiddleford trailed off with a surprised noise when Ford reached out suddenly to pull him close in a tight hug.

Perhaps too tight, as he had forgotten, for a moment, of his broken wrist. “Yowch!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Stanford said quickly, letting him go and choosing to ignore Stan’s mumbled suggestion to ‘get a room’. “Fiddleford, this is… I have done nothing to deserve--”

A honking noise caused him to trail off as the bus to California pulled to a stop beside them, the door opening. As the driver got off the bus to pick up Fiddleford’s suitcases, clearly having spotted the cast on his arm, Stanford’s old friend smiled. “Think nothing of it, buddy.”

“If I do publish this, your name will be on it right alongside mine,” Stanford said. “Actually, your name should be there first.”

“Nah, don’t do it,” Stan said, crossing his arms. “His ex would take half his slice of cake. Just give him part of the money in cash after meeting in a shady motel, so that no one knows, or… what? What’s so funny?” he protested when both Ford and Fiddleford laughed.

His chuckle dying down, Fiddleford held out his good hand. “Can we do this without breaking my other wrist?” he asked, causing Stan to roll his eyes.

“Look, your started it, okay?” he said, but he was grinning when he reached out to shake his hand. “You know, you’re not half bad for a nerd. Have a nice trip back. So, you’re leaving your car here for good, or…?”

“I’ll return to pick it up when I’m fit to drive,” Fiddleford replied. “I’d appreciate finding it again.”

“Of course.”

“With the engine still in place and all of the tires on.

“Who do you take me fo--”

“And with gas in it. I know there is some left.”

“Fine, fine!” Stanley muttered, rolling his eyes. “Sheesh! How about a little trust here?”

Trust no one.

Fiddleford laughed. “I guess I can try. I assume you’re not off to… wherever you were before, right?”

“Nope,” Stanley smirked, reaching to put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “I ain’t going nowhere.”

There had been a time when that statement would have made Stanford feel like he was suffocating, and then guilty for feeling that way. But now, standing in the sun as his best friend climbed on his bus home and with his brother’s hand on his shoulder, his mind once again entirely his own, he felt neither. He only felt free.

“So,” Stanley finally spoke up once the bus disappeared from sight. “When are we going home? Can’t wait to see Ma again, but maybe it would be best to wait until you’ve got more hair back and look a bit less like a scarecrow, huh? Just to avoid givin’ her the scare of her life. No worries, I’m sure I can get more than enough pies out of Swooning Susan to put some meat on those bones, and… is something wrong?”

Inwardly cursing himself for the frown he had allowed to show on his face, Ford shook his head. “No, no. It’s all right. It’s just… well…” he struggled to find words, and the next moment Stan was looking at him closely, clearly worried.

“Is it about the stuff you saw? From other realities? ‘Cause look, I can tell you that this is real, that you’re safe and all. Want me to take my shirt off again? ‘Cause I’ll do that in a sec if--”

“No, not at all!” Ford said quickly. “It’s not that. Whatever glimpses I got of other realities, they’re gone now. And I hardly remember anything of what I saw,” he added. That was true: he remember bits and pieces if he tried - kids, in one reality there were kids and I didn’t want Bill to hurt them - but he had little doubt they would fade soon. Even now, the more he tried to cling to details, the more they seemed to elude him, like water running through his fingers. It was a relief, for the most part, but there was a part of him that almost mourned for that loss, for the wealth of knowledge now gone, for the worlds he would never get to see for real.

The portal is still there, and now that Bill is gone… with the proper modifications...

Ford forced himself to ignore the thought, holding the thesis paper against his chest instead, and decided it would be best to change subject - just one moment before Stanley took it upon himself to do just that.

“Oh, good. Sorry, can’t help but worry. Must be a big brother thing.”

Oh, for heaven’s--!

“Stanley, you are not the big brother. We’re twins to begin with, and I either way I was the first to be bor--”

“Yeah, by ten minutes. Shame that you were frozen solid for a couple of hours. Can you age while frozen? Nope, didn’t think so! Which makes me about a hour and fifty minutes older now!”

“That’s not relevant--”

“Suck it up! Alpha twin! Alpha twin!” Stanley chanted, improvising a little dance. “Man, I wish I could tell the old man about all this! But it would mean having to explain a lot of crap we better keep secret, huh?”

The mention of their father caused all amusement - and a small measure of childish annoyance; truth was that Stanley had a point, technically, and Ford had enjoyed being the older twin - to fade suddenly, replaced by something that weighed like a rock in his chest. It was about time he and Stanley spoke of their family. It couldn’t be delayed any further.

“When we return home,” he finally forced himself to say, “you’ll find our father is not quite the same anymore.”

Stanley’s smug expression immediately turned to confusion, then into alarm. “What do you mean? Did he shave his mustache? Take off his shades and get blinded by the sun?” he asked, his smile not at all believable. Ford couldn’t bring himself to smile at the half-hearted joke, either, so he just kept talking.

“He began showing signs of dementia four years ago. Nothing too noticeable at first, but he’s been steadily getting worse ever since,” Ford said, trying to keep his voice gentle, and Stanley reared back as though struck.

“What-- you’re kidding, right? I mean, he ain’t that old! He’s like, what, sixty-five?”

“It’s early onset dementia. It does happen, and… it happened to him.”

For a few moments, Stanley said nothing. The he dug his hands into his coat’s pockets, lowered his gaze and set his jaw. He seemed lost in thought for a few more instants, then, “Does he remember kickin’ me out?”

“I… honestly don’t know.”

“Does he remember me at all?” his brother pressed on. His tone was casual, but his body language was that of someone bracing for a blow, and Ford was immensely relieved he wouldn’t have to deal it.

“Yes,” Ford said quickly, and held up his hands when Stanley shot him a look at was in equal parts hopeful and doubtful. “Honest! He remembers you for sure. He did last time - he asked where you were, a few times. No, several times. There was one time, I… I pretended to be you, to make him stop,” Stanford admitted, looking away. Switching places was something they had done often as children, always worth a laugh, but when he’d done it for their father he hadn’t felt like laughing at all. It had been horrible, almost as hard as watching their mother make plans, against all hope, of what they would do together as a family when Stan came back. At least now that dream was about to come true.

More silence, then, finally, Stanley turned to leave. “I don’t know where I was when he asked,” he finally said, his voice low. “But I know where I’m gonna be in two weeks’ time.”

He said nothing more, but of course Ford didn’t need him to specify. They both knew where they were going next.

Home.

***

[Back to Chapter 12]

[On to Chapter 14]

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #bill cipher #fiddleford mcgucket

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